#this is the worst rip but i did not know who else to respond with

[bluerosefox]

Taking a Chance

I want more TaliaxDanny stuff so how about this AU. Its mostly HEAVILY hinted though.

[Side note: Danny is in his 20s, maybe mid 20s btw, also enjoy my actual writing style, haven't done this in a while besides some small snippets I write]

Talia discovers the future plans Ra's has for her baby, her heir, her child. She is hurt and enraged because "How dare he! How dare he raise my son to be a sacrificial lamb just to extend his own life!" And the fact he had no plans to truly step down from being the Demon Head. (Basically the timeline where Ra's planned to overtake Damain's body)

-x-x-

Talia stared, her green eyes almost glowing toward the sleeping form of her son on her bed. Her eyes roamed his tiny face, the way he lightly dozed the day away unknowingly of the danger that had set in stone for him. Yes, being not just her son but the son of the Bat and the grandson of the Demon Head he was always going to be in danger but never had she really thought the danger would come from the very person who just declared him his heir. At least not in the way its been presented.

Talia had just discovered the fate her father, Ra's al Ghul, the same man that had held Damian not even a day ago and spoke of the future he could see Damian bring to the League once he was of age and would lead it, had actually planned for her son.

He planned on using her son, raising him to be the perfect heir.... to... to...

Use him as a vessel in the end.

He planned to leave his old decaying body, a body that was beginning to no longer respond to the Lazarus Pits as of late, and basically jump ship to a younger and better body...

The body of her son. The son she created and craved to have and raise. The son she made with her beloved's blood running in his veins.

Despite how enraged she is' Talia knows she can't confront her father. He would kill her... no he would torture her by hurting her baby to the point death would be a mercy if she tried. She also knows she can't go running to Bruce, she had burned the bridge to him ages ago when she refused to leave her father and his teachings and knows he would rip Damian away from her should she tell him what she did. He would, under the guise of protecting their child gain sole custody from Talia, set up next to nothing visitation rights for her to follow. He would say it would be to protect Damian from Ra's but Talia knows Bruce, knows he would use it as a half-excuse just to keep her away... but Talia wants to be in her child's life. Wants to raise him. Wants to be his mother, despite knowing next to nothing on how to be an actual normal mother, she wanted to try. She needed to try.

Running away was also out of the question, especially since Damian had been declared her father 'heir'. He would hunt them down and there was no where in this world she could hide that her father could not find them...

And-

Talia barely gives any warning when she flings the knife behind her. She waited for only a second, either to hear the ting of metal being blocked or the sound of it burying itself onto the wooden door she knew was in its pathway.

Instead she heard neither of those things and instead heard the ticking of a grandfather clock and a deep chuckle.

"As expected from the daughter of the Demon. Sharp and deadly with no hesitation in sight."

"Who are you." It was not a question but a demand. She slowly turned her head and was meet with an odd sight that even the daughter of the Demon has never seen before.

"At most.. an ally to have. At worst, merely a passing stranger with an offer."

The ticking never stopped.

Everything else outside the room though did.

-x-x-

Danny stared, his currently green eyes burning even more brightly than they normally do. Many emotions passed through them, anger, frustration, pain, sadness, regret, heartbreak, and hopelessness to name a few.

He stared at the tiny sleeping face within the healing pod in front of him and closed his eyes as memories of spending time with the one sleeping filled his mind.

"My King." A voice began, Danny's sharp pointed ears twitch for a moment and he turned his head slightly but it was all the speaker needed to know that they had his attention even if he didn't give them his full attention.

"I bring the updated reports from Chief Frostbite you requested." The young yeti ghost said, this had Danny finally turning around and looking upwards and towards the young yeti, who was smaller than Frostbite but none the less bigger than Danny. Danny held his hand out and took the stack of papers in their hands.

Once the papers were in his hands he gave a curt wave of his fingers as if to say 'go on' without actually saying the words and turned his attention to the words on the papers. The young yeti, Icewinds took the signal and began.

"Princess Danielle's core has remained the same since the last check up. No major sign of deteriorating or destabilizing... However that also means there have been no signs of improvement or healing as well..." Icewinds stopped for a moment, allowing their King to register the words being spoken "We will continue to monitor her as best as we can but... My King..."

Icewinds took a deep breath and delivered the news everyone already knew "Without a female donor to complete her Ecto-DNA, should the Princess suffers from another Fading even a minor one, I fear it might be too much for her core and with her current body form it will not be able to withstand the stress... I'm truly sorry My King."

The room fell silent, the only real sounds being the monitors in the room and sound of rustling papers in Danny's hands, who was staring blankly at the words written on them but not really taking them in.

After a moment, Icewinds shifting uncomfortably for a second, Danny spoke his voice raw but strong and firm "I understand. Please inform Frostbite I am... grateful for his, yours, and everyone's continued support and everything everyone's has done to help her... If you do not mind Icewinds, I would... Like to be alone for a while and think... For a moment."

"O-Of course My King." And with that Icewinds left the room, Danny barely taking not of the door closing and his enhanced hearing picking up the hushed soft words being spoken to the Knights that stood outside the room of Danny's request of being left alone for a while.

Once the talking outside the room faded, Danny tilted his body and head back on the chair he had been sitting in for the last few days and allowed the papers he had his hands to fall out and onto the floor. Danny took in a shaky breath and closed his burning eyes as he tried to keep his core emotions in control, knowing if he lost control the Realms would echo him and would panic or worry his people.

And he couldn't deal with that. Not now.

"Clockwork, whatever timeline you are trying to set in motion, I hope it pans out soon." Danny rasped out as he tried his best to keep himself from falling apart. Losing Danielle, losing the girl that was his clone, his mirror, but also was like a sister... daughter sometimes would break him, harshly and deeply.

He knew his advisor and resident Timekeeper had something in the works, the way the aging spirit had looked at him before he left was telling when the news of Danielle's suffering from another Fading attack and Frostbite having to perform a Core Transform nearly last second, which in turn turned her into a baby from how close she was to fully Fading, had been delivered to Danny and the others.

But despite knowing Clockwork had a plan, Danny knew that smile he had before he had left. It had been Clockwork's 'Have hope, but even I am unsure.' smile, a rare one the Timekeeper would wear when even he didn't know which way the pendulum of chance would swing first.

So he did the only thing he could do for now, and that was to remain in the room with Danielle, keep her stabilized as best as he could with his own ectoplasim flowing, and wait to see if whatever Clockwork had planned would work out.

Waiting, even with all he's done in his life from becoming a Halfa, to defending his home and haunt, from fighting off insane Fruitloops to dismantling government bigots until there was nothing left of them, all the way to fighting a tyrannicidal Ghost King to the point Danny had won the crown by Trail by Combat thus taking up the mantle of Ghost King of the Infinite Realms since his seventeenth birthday and bringing the Infinite Realms into a new age of healing the broken crumbling lands and ruling over all justly but firmly, waiting was all he could do for Danielle.

And the waiting. The stress. Was agonizing.

Because what they needed was...

Was a miracle if Danny was to be honest. They needed a female, a donor in all sense of the words, to complete Danielle's incomplete Ecto-DNA, because of course that damned Fruitloop tried skipping steps in creating a clone of Danny and it was no wonder he had failed so many times with only Danielle the most stable of them all and given the fact she still wasn't was damning, but they couldn't just have any female donate their DNA to her.

No the DNA needed the donor to at least be limenal, thus turning the DNA into Ecto-DNA because Danielle was created to be a halfa... The only problem was that the person in question needed to be Jazz level of limenal Ecto-DNA as well.

Meaning that despite both Sam and Val offering their Ecto-DNA from the years of being exposed to the Realms and Ectoplasim theirs wasn't enough to work with Danielle's. Jazz's Ecto-DNA was off the table seeing as she was his sister and mixing it with Danielle's would just lead to problems.

No they needed someone who was born near or in ectoplasm, breathed it, ate or at least filtered it, grew with it for years like Jazz and Danny did, basically the person in question just needed one odd day of dying and returning to life at the same time to becoming a halfa levels of limenal. Only those high levels could complete and combined with Danielle's.

Which given the fact only Jazz had those levels, finding someone near those levels was like looking for needle in space, because forget the haystack.

"....You've returned." Was the only words Danny said when his ears caught the sound of a ticking clock suddenly in the room, his anxiety raising as both dread and a tiny slimmer of hope both slowly climb up in his emotions, knowing whatever answer Clockwork would give him would outweigh the other.

"On time, as always My King." His cryptic Timekeeper responded "I bring... a chance."

Those words were enough to snap Danny out of his chair, he quickly looked towards where Clockwork's voice had been coming from and floated. His eyes burning with determination for a moment before he caught sight of movement behind Clockwork.

Behind the ever changing being stood a breathtaking woman. Tall and proud from the way she held herself, she looked a few years older than him but Danny could sense she was far older her soul not really matching her body. She was lovely to look at no doubt but deadly, very deadly and that was something else Danny could sense after all he was the Ghost King.

And she wasn't alone for in her arms was a baby, roughly the same age that Danielle had been de-aged to as well.

Danny blinked at them when he noticed something.

She...

She was limenal.

Very limenal. Even more limenal than Jazz.

In fact both of them were.

"I would like you to meet Lady Talia al Ghul and her son Damian, My King." Clockwork said as he gave a tiny bow towards the woman who stepped forward, a frown on her face she took in Danny's features and her eyes darting towards Danielle's healing pod for a moment, Danny could see she was tensed and a little weary from no doubt everything so far.

".... Welcome Lady Talia to the Infinite Realms. I am King Phantom." Danny greeted, his many years of training with other royalties coming forward as second nature now, he wasn't some normal teen from the middle of the Mid-West after all. "Has Clockwork told you the reasoning as to why you have been... chosen?"

He honestly would put it past Clockwork to be cryptic about the reasoning, but he hoped he hadn't because Danny really didn't want to explain the importance of it all and why they needed to hurry. And judging by the roll of his eyes Clockwork knew what Danny had been meaning as well.

"Yes King Phantom" Talia spoke, her voice rich and silky that sent a tiny shiver up Danny's spine from the sound "You need my DNA to help heal your clone. Should it be successful however it will change her from being merely a clone to instead into becoming yours and mine daughter."

"Correct." Was Danny's response, short and to the point. He needed her answer now if they wanted to save even a fragment of Danielle's core.

The room fell silent again, each them of taking a moment to think.

But eventually Talia spoke. Her voice steady and strong.

"I will offer my aid to you and yours... But only if you swear to both me and my son that we will be given sanctuary from my father and any who dares harm us for the blood that runs in our veins."

Danny only had one answer to that as his eyes caught hers.

Because despite being the Ghost King Phantom nowadays. He had once been Danny Phantom whose core started as a protector spirit and could sense the honestly of needing safety in her words.

"Yes."

-x-x-

Clockwork watched and smiled at the two adults in the room as they continued to stare at each other.

He knew he had been cutting it close, waiting for Talia to be at the ends of ropes and needing a chance to finally leave her deadly and abusive father without the toxic strings attached her ex would tie around her under the guise of safety for their son.

Turning his attention away from the two as they began to speak terms, Clockwork cast his gaze towards an window in the room and stared out of it, smile still on his face as glimpses of the rare future he saw slowly rose up more frequently.

Danny and Talia slowly and surely working together to raise not just Danielle, or rather Ellie as they renamed her since she was no longer a clone of Danny, but also Damian together. Passing them off as twins to those outside the Realms or Amity Park.

Talia learning to release the toxic love she had towards Bruce Wayne, and understand if someone truly loved you for you, they would demand sudden change from the only way of life one knows. That since she was no longer the thumb of her father she could finally be free to be herself.

Danny learning that despite being crowned so early in his life, that the weight of the crown didn't need to be carried alone. Sure he had his friends and family but Danny needed someone, someone who understood the weight of the feeling of needing to wear it head held high. And who better to help teach that than the woman who had to carry the name Daughter of the Demon Head herself.

The two growing closer and closer. Until fondness changed and shifted into more. As they raised the two infants with laughter and joy and love.

Ellie getting a kiss from Talia on the forehead when she had a nightmare and seeked her mother out for comfort. Toddler Damian riding Cujo around the castle as he copied Fright Knight after watching him ride off, Danny floating right by him making sure he didn't fall off. Ellie learning how to fight not just from her mother but from her idol Pandora. Damian learning to identify the stars and their names from the man he saw, and later wished was, his father. Ellie and Damian building pillow forts in the library and reading all manners of stories to each other. Danny and Talia holding their tiny hands as they took them to their first day of school within Amity Park their joyful laughter bringing soft smiles on their parents faces.

Danny holding a crying Talia as she explained the things she had been taught and forced to learn by the orders of her father in the dead of night. Doing his best to calm her down as he had been taught by Jazz ages ago.

Talia standing tall and firm when the Observants tried to undermined a order, no a law Danny had set in motion that had upset the eyeballs badly. How she gathered evidence of their attempts to go against it and how they were nothing but traitors towards their King and couldn't weasel themselves out of it this time.

Clockwork smiled warmly when he caught sight of one more glimpse of this future timeline.

Talia dressed beautifully, a crown made of stars and black jewels on her head. Her son dancing with her as firm as he could but his little tongue peeking out of his mouth as he concentrated on his steps and was dressed like a tiny prince complete with a tiny crown of stars on his head as well, Talia's face held a tiny smile of love watching him try his hardest to dance correctly with her. Joyful squeals of laughter rang out as King Phantom twirled with Ellie, who was dressed like a true princess, in his arms.

Around them in the ballroom the citizens of Realms laughed, joyfully danced, sang, ate, or merely watched. For the first time in many, many years the Realms felt... Complete. Whole. Happy.

A true wonderful afterlife that all could enjoy.

Yes.

He knew waiting the last second was a long shot, for a chance that almost wasn't, but the future he saw was well worth it.

A good future. A balanced one. A happy afterlife one.

Now, all he had to do was wait for the seeds of this future to bloom.

[reiding-writing]

hiii, i hope you're well! i saw that you are taking requests for spencer and i really like your angst fics so i was wondering if you could write one with unrequited love?

preferably bau!reader who has feelings for him but he doesn't and she watches him get with someone else and everybody knows how she feels about him but he is oblivious, ending is up to you but i love me a sad ending heheh 😸

transgression [ s.r ]

You’re in love with Spencer Reid. He’s in love with somebody else.

WARNINGS: SPOILERS FOR THE ENTIRE MAEVE ARC, LOTS of misunderstanding, Spencer is kind of a bad friend, lots of arguing, major character death

spencer reid x gn!reader || ANGST || 8.2k || masterlist!!

a/n: sorry for the delay, but i did warn you it was gonna be long so- also i listened to ceilings on repeat whilst writing this so take that as you will 🫶

did i bend the maeve arc to my will for this fic? yes. yes i did.

taglist (slashed blogs couldn’t be tagged): @babyspiderling @marsxoxo2 @vytvyvy @hpstuff244444 @frostooo @ohmysw33 @radioactiveinvisible @devilsadvcte @the-local-pendeja @kakashis-formal-simp @robinswrld

You suppose you did it to yourself.

Spencer’s migraines had gotten increasingly worse over the last few months, and after a few consecutive days of hounding him, he’d finally decided to go and see a medical professional about it.

You’d expected him to come back with news about how his brain stem was too active from how hard he was working himself, or that he’d managed to raise his blood pressure to an unhealthy high from all the stress he was under.

Instead he’d told you that they couldn’t find anything physically wrong with him and that he’d been referred to a geneticist to check if the cause of his sudden mind-numbing aching was due to an underlying condition that might have been passed down from his mother.

He’d come back and forth to you for weeks about his phone calls with the doctor.

How she was helping him with his sleep deprivation.

How she was helping to manage his diet.

How she loved classic literature.

How she and him had spent four consecutive hours on the phone debating over the logistics of a novel they both enjoyed.

You could see the change happening before your eyes, and you weren’t the only one either.

“Pretty boy’s chipper this morning,” Morgan joins you at the kitchenette, his eyes following Spencer as he takes a seat at his desk with all of the enthusiasm of a golden retriever puppy who’d been let off his leash for the first time.

You hum with a nod, focusing your attention on the two cups of coffee you were making, heaping tablespoons of sugar into Spencer’s Doctor Who mug to satisfy his insatiable need for sweetness. “They’re reading a book together,”

“Really?” You respond to Morgan’s raised eyebrow with a short nod and another hum.

“Thoughts in Solitude by Thomas Merton, apparently she finds the religious analysis ‘fascinating’,” You can’t help the small contemptment that seeps into your tone as you reiterate what Spencer had told you to Morgan, and you can practically feel his pitiful gaze as he watches you make your coffee.

“I’ve heard of that book before from somewhere,”

“I tried to get him to read it a few months ago,” You take a sip of your coffee at the end of your sentence, barely able to taste it over the scolding water but not finding the mind to care.

You leave your conversation with Morgan at that, taking the two mugs in your hands and walking back into the bullpen, placing Spencer’s mug in front of him and walking around the cluster of desks to reach your own.

He’s sure he doesn’t need to verbalise it, but Morgan feels increasingly sorry for your situation, noting how you skirt past Spencer’s “thank you” without a response as you bury your head in your files.

he can’t imagine how much the fact that Spencer had seemingly formed a crush on his geneticist ripped you apart.

And the worst part? He’d never met her in person.

All scientific laws of attraction be damned, Spencer Reid had fallen in love with someone he’d never met in the span of three months, and you we’re resigning yourself to sit on the sidelines and watch as the man you had been in love with for six years find the happiness that you longed for with somebody else.

How you managed to keep up your facade you didn’t know.

You’d offered him change for the pay phone he’d call her from when he was running short. You’d let him rant to you about her opinions on a novel that you had failed to get him to read. You made excuses for him to leave the office early so that he could spend his time on the phone with her.

You were the one that sent him to the hospital and caused him to meet her in the first place.

He never hesitated to remind you of that fact, thanking you vicariously every time he relayed his conversations with the doctor back to you.

As the weeks progressed he stopped calling her that. She wasn’t ‘the doctor’ anymore. She was Maeve.

He didn’t call you by your first name and you’d known him for ten times longer that he’d known her. He didn’t even call Morgan by his first name and those two were practically brothers.

And that part was probably what hurt the most.

Maeve.

A name of Irish origin meaning ‘intoxicating’. How fitting.

Apparently the Irish goddess of love and desire was named Maeve. You could see the glimmer in Spencer’s eye that told you his Maeve was just as important as the mythological goddess he was describing.

His Maeve.

“So why haven’t you two actually gone on a date or anything?” You take a sip from the mug in your hands, swivelling your chair back and forth with your foot as a pivot. “You’ve been talking for what, four months now? Surely it’s about time you actually met her in person,”

“It’s complicated,” Spencer sighs as he collects the loose papers he was working on in a pile. He didn’t want to divulge Maeve’s issues without her permission.

“You’ve been saying that for the last six weeks Spencer,” You roll your eyes as you discard your half-empty mug on the table. “If I didn’t know any better i’d say you’re putting it off,”

Spencer shook his head adamantly at your suggestion. You couldn’t have been more wrong. He did want to meet her. Desperately. He’d wanted to meet her since the end of their first phone call. But he also wanted to keep her safe.

How do you meet up with somebody who’s hiding from a stalker without endangering them?

“I do want to meet her. It’s just- she’s dealing with something personal and it’s put a rift our plans, that’s all,”

“So it’s her not wanting to meet up with you then?” You raise an eyebrow at him over your desks.

“Look it’s- You don’t get it okay? It was a mutual understanding from both of us.” You can hear Spencer’s tone become more defensive as you spoke, and you raised both of your hands in surrender.

“Okay, i’m sorry for prying-” You ended your apology with a laugh, trying to keep the conversation lighthearted despite feeling your heart deflate in your chest at the way the friendliness his his eyes fizzled out the longer you looked at him.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Spencer’s late to work this morning.

It’s 8:06 when he finally walks through the glass doors, the coffee you made him stone cold after sitting lamely on his desk for the better part of twenty minutes. He doesn’t so much as offer an apology as he picks up the mug and makes his way over to the kitchenette to pour the coffee down the sink.

You follow behind him in a mix of intrigue and a want to refill your own mug, swilling it out with some water as you watch Spencer load a coffee pod into the machine. “Phone call last longer than you expected?”

“Hm? Oh- yeah, we were discussing the literary analysis of Annabelle Lee,” Spencer’s demeanour seems to brighten immediately once he’s given an opportunity to discuss the details of his phone call with Maeve, although the beginning of his ramble is quickly cut off by the beeping of the coffee machine.

You wait patiently for his coffee to finish before you begin making yours, raising an eyebrow as Spencer pulls out a regular teaspoon instead of the usual tablespoon he’d incorrectly use to load his coffee with sugar.

Your intrigue only heightened when he pulled a carton of milk from the mini-fridge. Not even normal milk. Soy milk.

“Since when do you drink coffee like a normal person?”

His eyes flickered from his mug to your face as he tipped a single teaspoon of sugar into his drink before replacing the bag back where it came from. “It’s a part of my managed diet, Maeve thinks that my increased sugar intake might be one of the risk factors for my headaches,”

“Did she tell you to put soy milk in it too?” You don’t know why you have the urge to be petty, Spencer had long since needed to change his coffee drinking habits for the sake of decreasing his sugar intake and Maeve’s suggestions were beneficial for his health.

It was just the fact that it was her that ticked you off.

“She did actually, it provides the same amount of riboflavin as cow’s milk, which acts as a soothing agent whilst also helping constrict inflamed blood vessels, but without all of the excess fats in regular milk that might make my migraines more frequent, it’s genius really,”

He thought that her ideas were genius. Him. Mr ‘I have three PhDs and an IQ of 187’, thought someone else’s ideas were genius.

You’re sure that he already knew the benefits of milk alternatives, and yet he attributed the ‘revelation’ of what they could do to Maeve. Of course he did.

“When was the last time you made a decision for yourself?” The question comes out much harsher than you intend it to, and you can tell by the way Spencer furrows his eyebrows that he’s taken offence to it.

“Sorry, that came out wrong,” No it didn’t. “I’m just a little surprised that someone as independent as you is so… willing to follow blind instructions,” Your attempt at saving yourself half-works, that wrinkle between his eyebrows disappears and you can see that the glimmer in his eyes is returning slowly.

“She’s a doctor, of course i’m going to follow her suggestions,”

You give him a soft nod as you pick up your mug from under the coffee machine. “Yeah, no, that makes sense, it’s just a little surprising is all,”

You don’t give him a chance to respond to you before you’re walking away from the kitchenette to retake a seat at your desk, fearing you might say something out of pocket if you continue the conversation any longer.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

You were really pissed off now.

You’d arrived back in Quantico three days ago, and you were still piled up to your neck in paperwork.

Maybe you would’ve had it finished by now if Spencer would stop talking about the fact that he was “-finally going to meet Maeve in person,”.

You had half the mind to snap and tell him to just shut up, although by the saving grace of Morgan you thankfully didn’t have to.

“Reid, give their poor ears a break man,” Your thankful for Morgan in times like this. He knew you were knee-deep in your feelings for Spencer, and he knew that every time Spencer so much as spoke Maeve’s name it carved another hairline fracture in your heart.

You were close to shattering, and Morgan could tell.

“Oh- right, sorry,” Spencer offered you an awkward smile which you mirrored back at him.

“It’s alright, don’t worry about it,” You shake your head in a polite dismissal of his apology before turning your head back down towards your files.

“I take it you’re nervous then?” Alex’s voice cut through the beginning of an awkward tension between the two of you as she entered to bullpen with a cup of coffee in hand.

“Well- I mean- you know…” Upon being unable to find a sufficient response, Spencer resorts to shrugging into his chair. “I just don’t want to ruin anything,”

“But aren’t you curious what she looks like?” Alex raises an eyebrow with concern like Spencer was he son going on his first ever date.

“it doesn’t matter what she looks like I mean- she’s already the most beautiful girl in the world to me it’s just-”

You don’t stick around to hear the rest of the conversation.

You sudden upheaval from your desk stops Spencer’s sentence as his eyes follow you across the bullpen and out of the glass doors, followed shortly by Morgan as he jogs after you.

“Hey- Wait up a minute-” Morgan catches your arm before you have a chance to get in the elevator, and as you turn your eyes towards him he can see the beginnings of tears forming in your eyes.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this..”

Morgan can do nothing more than pull your head into his shoulder and wrap his arms tightly around your back with a soft mutter of your name. “I know kid, I know…”

“He thinks she’s the most beautiful girl in the world,” You turn your head up from Morgan’s shoulder to meet his eyes, a single stray tear cascading down your cheek, illuminated under the florescent lights. “How am I supposed to compete with that..?”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Incidentally, Spencer’s date with Maeve didn’t end up happening. Conflicting work schedules or something, you weren’t really listening.

Maybe all of your subconscious thoughts had leaked into reality and finally gave you momentary release from the crushing defeat of having Spencer go on a date with someone else.

Maybe it was them punishing you further by forcing you to sit through him rant about the book she’d left him at the front of the restaurant.

It didn’t help that you already had a headache that made it feel like your eye sockets were being kicked by an annoying kid sat behind you on an aeroplane, leaving a dull ache in it’s wake and making you just want to bury yourself in a hole and hibernate.

“And right at the back she wrote ’Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone; we find it with another’ it’s a quote from-”

“Thomas Merton. Yeah, I know.” You dig the knuckle of your left thumb into cavity of your eye socket over your closed eyelid, hoping to relieve some of the tension that’s lingering there and disrupting your thoughts.

“Thomas Merton’s ‘Love and Living’ specifically,” If Spencer noticed your discomfort he didn’t acknowledge it. “It’s a collection of his essays on the importance of love to live, so for her to have written it specifically knowing that I would read it means-”

“Reid.”

Your tone stops him from continuing any further, and he blinks at you with that sweet puppy-dog expression that would usually have you weak at the knees.

“No offence, but I don’t care about your over-the-phone girlfriend or the quote that she wrote in your book.” Your tone carried a harshness to it that Spencer wasn’t used to hearing from you. It was cold and detached and not like you at all.

“Are- you okay?”

“No, Reid, I’m not, and if you’d bothered to ask about my life every once in a while instead of using me like a human diary maybe you would’ve realised that already.”

You practically slam your file closed as you speak, pushing your chair out from your desk and leaving him sat in shock at your sudden change in attitude.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

After a bit of introspection, Spencer did realise that he hadn’t been treating you very fairly. He hadn’t asked you how your life had been in 3 months and 26 days. Four of those days he’d spent in damn near radio silence. He wasn’t sure he could take it much longer.

He missed you.

It was a bit ironic considering you sat directly opposite him for almost eight hours a day five days a week, but after you’d snapped at him last week, he truly realised just how much of his day he spent socialising with you, and just how much he missed talking to you.

So he decided that he was going to apologise.

And what better form of an apology for being dismissive of your feelings than putting a personal effort into something for you.

He walked into the office that morning with a leather bound copy of The Parasite by Arthur Conan Doyle stored cautiously in his messenger bag, pages scrawled with annotations from Spencer’s own reading of the novel that he hoped would be insightful to you as you read it yourself.

He’d remembered you saying how much you wanted to read the novel a few months ago, so he figured giving it to you as a personalised apology would show that he really did care about you and had listened to what you’d told him.

“Are you busy?” Spencer asks, though he already knows the answer to the question.

He’d been watching you from the other side of the room all morning, hoping for a moment or two of eye contact to see if there was a possibility of a conversation. A look from one to the other; even a smile would’ve been enough to make him feel validated and content. And he would have been willing to settle for that.

But you never looked up. Not even once.

"Mhm," You continue to not spare Spencer so much as glance as he speaks, turning over the page of the file you were working through.

“Can I take a minute of your time?” He tried to catch your gaze again, only to be met by your continued focus on your work. The last thing he wanted to do was disrupt your work routine, but he also knew that he needed to talk to you sooner rather than later.

“Please,” he said softly. “It’s important.”

You exhale heavily through your nose, exasperation written clearly in your expression as you leave your pen as a page marker to close the manilla folder on your desk. You turn your head upwards, raising an eyebrow and opening your hands to agitatedly indicate for him to continue.

You wouldn’t lie and say that it didn’t hurt being so openly cold towards Spencer, but you’d reached a breaking point, and you couldn’t bare sitting idly on the sidelines and letting him tear your heart to pieces anymore.

Spencer was relieved that you’d granted him your attention, but the look you directed towards him was enough to make him wince. You weren’t looking at him through a lens of indifference but rather cold, hard disappointment.

He took a deep breath, trying to gather the right words for what he had to say.

“I’m sorry,”

He seemed almost breathless as he spoke, like he’d just finished a tangent about something without taking the time to breathe. “I know that I’ve been spending too much time talking about Maeve and not enough paying attention to you.”

"You don’t say," You mutter the words under your breath to yourself, but your sure that Spencer heard you based on the way his eyebrows knit and the small gleam of hope in his eyes dwindles to barely a flicker.

He was trying not to react to your snide comment. Spencer knew that your tone didn’t leave any room to deny your meaning. He’d been selfish in talking exclusively about his relationship and hadn’t realised how it was affecting you.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer repeated. “You mean so much to me and I haven’t been showing that.”

"Thank you," Your thanks are polite but dismissive, like you were acknowledging his apology but choosing to not actually consider it as one, and it left Spencer with an expression of clear frustration.

He was used to being able to read your facial expressions and emotions in the past, but now you were just an unreadable wall of disappointment. He had hoped the apology would've been enough, but it was clear that you weren’t going to let him off that easily.

Time to pull out the last resort.

He bent over and fumbled with his bag for a few moments before pulling out the novel he’d brought with him face up.

“I uh… got you this,” He holds out the book towards you. “You said you wanted to read it right? So I uh.. annotated it for you to make it more enjoyable,”

You take the novel from him with a raised eyebrow as your eyes scan the cover, a clear flicker of confusion in your expression.

Spencer noticed your expression and furrowed his own brow in confusion. You didn't seem to recognise the book. In fact, the look on your face made him wonder whether you even knew this book existed at all before this moment.

“I hope you… like it,” he said nervously. “I was going off what you'd talked about before. You mentioned the book was a classic?”

"I… have never seen this book in my life,”

“B-But…” Spencer knew this was going to be awkward at some point, but he'd hoped not this early into the conversation. He could feel his cheeks burning from embarrassment, and it was only getting worse as he searched your face for an answer to this awkward situation.

“I… swear I heard you mention it once.”

You give him a short shake of your head and a pursed smile of awkward thanks as you put the book down on your desk.

Spencer looked away, embarrassed beyond belief. He hadn't even been able to deliver an apology properly, let alone make you feel special like he'd originally intended to.

How had he gotten it wrong? He had an eidetic memory for god’s sake.

When you put the book down on your desk, his eyes flicked back to the book. He'd spent almost 4 hours annotating and researching it and now it felt like all that effort had been wasted.

If you hadn’t mentioned it then who had? Someone must’ve. Someone he obviously equated with you to the point where he’d somehow managed to override his eidetic memory to mix the two of you up.

It takes him a few moments before you hear him whisper out a name under his breath, the palm of his hand dragging down the front of his face at the realisation.

"Maeve…"

The mention of her name had your eyes flickering away from the leather cover and right back to Spencer’s face, awkwardness completely rid of your features and replaced with a mix of negativity that Spencer wasn’t sure he wanted to dig into.

"Are you serious?" Your words come out less questioningly and more accusatory, and you hold the book up so that he can see it once more, the gold embossing on the cover glinting under the overhead light as if to only taunt Spencer further for his mistake.

“You apologise for continuously disregarding me for your girlfriend by giving me a book that she showed interest in?”

You could see Spencer's face fall as your words sink in.

He hadn't even taken the time to think over what he was apologising with. It was almost as if his brain automatically just reverted back to his girlfriend's interests as an escape from dealing with his own guilt and sadness.

"Damn it," he whispered to himself. And in that moment he realised he'd just committed the biggest crime someone could make when trying to apologise.

“Like you constantly flaunting your relationship in my face verbally wasn’t bad enough.”

"I'm sorry I-" he says again, voice teeming with sincerity and guilt.

"You are truly and utterly unbelievable Spencer Reid." Your words didn’t carry anger as much as they did disappointment, and he could see the astoundment in your eyes as you pushed your chair backwards to stand, dropping the book straight in the trash bin by your desk before walking off.

It’s where it belongs; Right alongside the small sliver of respect you still had for him.

Spencer could've said so much more: he could've admitted how ashamed he felt for his careless actions and he could've apologised again and again a million times if it meant you'd stick around and give him a chance to make it up to you.

But you had already made it clear that you weren't in the right state of mind to discuss this matter further.

The best thing he could do now was give you space as he watched you walk away, a deep pain in his heart that slowly ate him alive from the inside.

He’d well and truly fucked up.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Oh sweetheart, what’s wrong?” You were bordering tears by the time you reached Garcia’s office, unintentionally interrupting her lunch break with Alex in the process, though the two seemed to care less about the interruption and more about the fact that you liked like you were about to cry your eyes out.

You take in a sharp breath through your nose as you try to tape together the cracks in your composure, although with every one you seal three more seem to appear in it’s place.

“I-” You can barely get the first word out before the tears start rolling down your face, and Alex immediately stands from her seat to guide you to sit in her place.

“Hey, you’re alright, slowly,” Alex’s hands find your shoulders and rub reassuring circles against your shirt. The slow breath you take in doesn’t stop the flood of tears that’s blurring your vision, and you only manage to get out a single word, but it’s all the two need to understand what’s got you so overwhelmed.

“Spencer-”

“I swear I am two seconds away from smacking that boy over the back of the head,” You can hear the clear frustration in Garcia’s tone. “Surely he’s got to realise how much he’s hurting you by now,”

“He does… I lashed out at him and then left to come here…” You rub your eyes with the back of your hand alongside a small sniffle, trying to rid your vision of it’s blurriness from your tears.

“Good, the boy deserves to have some sense knocked into him,” You appreciate Garcia taking your side, but you can’t help that small lingering feeling of guilt that invades the back of your mind.

“He’s just in love, it’s not his fault…” The words almost physically pain you to say. The verbal acceptance that Spencer Reid was indeed in love with somebody. Somebody who wasn’t you.

“That doesn’t mean that he should be disregarding you though sweetheart,” Alex’s tone is soft and almost maternal, and your sure that it doesn’t help how emotional you are.

Garcia’s right hand reaches forward to straighten out the collar of your shirt, unintentionally crumpled as you try to wipe your face of your emotions. “You’re his friend, and you have been his friend for longer than he’s known this girl he’s talking to, it’s not fair for him to completely push you to the side,”

Garcia was right. It’s not fair. Nothing about how Spencer had been treating you since he’d started speaking to Maeve had been fair. And you were done making excuses for the boy just because you knees deep in your feelings for him.

You didn’t deserve to feel guilty. You didn’t deserve to feel bad for lashing out at Spencer for apologising for not showing interest in your life by further proving just how little he’d actually payed attention to you. You didn’t deserve to cry because he was the most stupid genius to ever live and couldn’t see that you were hopelessly in love with him. You didn’t deserve to suffer by his hand.

It wasn’t fair.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Maeve’s been kidnapped.”

You have to consciously suppress the small voice in the back of your head that celebrates the possibility that she might not be a part of Spencer’s life for much longer. It’s a horrible thought. You should never wish ill upon anyone, no matter how much you internally despised them.

Still, that part of you that was still petty, that was still infuriated with Spencer and Maeve, wanted you to tell Spencer straight to his face that you weren’t going to help him find her and that it was karma for how he’d treated you.

But you weren’t a bad person.

As much as you might hate her, she was still important to Spencer.

“I have a wealth of knowledge i should be applying to this case, but- i can’t focus on anything for more than four seconds at a time… which makes me the dumbest person in the room-” Spencer’s eyes are full of desperation as they scan across your teammates.

“So please help me… Please help me find her…” The desperation in his voice is heartbreaking, the remnants of tears staining his face as he explains the context of the situation through broken sentences.

“We don’t have an official case, so we’ll be working on personal time,” Hotch’s voice is much quieter than you’re used to. Softer, more considerate. “Does anybody want to leave?”

You can feel his eyes linger on you as he asks the question, and you subconsciously purse your mouth into a tight line to stop yourself from impulsively pulling out of the investigation.

You might be detrimentally frustrated with him, but you did want to help. Even if it ultimately resulted in your downfall.

Hotch gave you a short nod before turning to the rest of the team. “Good, let’s get to work,”

It didn’t take Garcia very long to track Maeve down, mostly attributed to her unique name and specialised job.

Dr. Maeve Donovan, a professor at Mendel University who took a sabbatical leave 10 months ago.

The group split into different groups once they’d found her, JJ and Morgan heading off to a loft her parents owned, Alex and Rossi heading to the lab she used to work at, and you and Hotch, accompanied by Spencer, going to speak to Maeve’s parents.

“Reid,” Garcia’s tone is soft as she looks over her laptop screen towards him as he begins to stand from the conference table. “I have a picture of her, do you want to know what she looks like?”

“No,”

Spencer’s answer is immediate, joined by a shake of his head.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

You and Spencer watched from behind the one way mirror as the interview progressed.

They’d last spoken to Maeve five days ago. Her mother had cancer. She was also a geneticist. They were suspicious of her ex fiancé Bobby.

Her fiancé?

You can see Spencer’s face drop at the words despite the low lighting in the room, and you can’t help but furrow your eyebrows yourself.

She had a fiancé?

Spencer practically storms out of the office after the questioning is over, and Hotch has to remind him to calm down as they reach the apartment of Robert Putnam with Morgan and Rossi in tow.

When the door opens the five of you aren’t greeted by Robert, but rather a girl, a girl who looked very confused.

You invite yourselves inside at the girl’s recognition that Robert was inside the apartment.

“And who are you?”

“I’m Diane, his girlfriend,” She raised an eyebrow as the five of you looked around, confusion cut short as Robert rounds the corner questioning the sudden voices coming from his living room.

“Hey babe what’s-“

“Robert Putnam, FBI we’d like to-” Spencer’s voice cuts him off harshly as he rushes to speak, although he stops his sentence halfway as a flicker of recognition falls across his features and his anger turns to dread.

“Hey, I know you,” Robert doesn’t have the time to say anything else to Spencer before Hotch forces him out of the room, shutting the door behind him to speak to Spencer privately whilst you Morgan and Rossi remained inside.

Hotch returned a few minutes later. Spencer didn’t.

You end up taking Hotch’s place as you push yourself out of the apartment with a small “excuse me,” to follow after Spencer as he walks out of the apartment building.

“Spencer- wait up a minute-”

He doesn’t stop at your call, and you’re practically running down the stairs by the time you get to him, already out of the front doors of the apartment building.

“Hey-” You take a second to catch your breath before turning your eyes back towards him again. “Are you alright?”

You could see the flicker of confusion in his eyes as he met your gaze.

The last time you spoke to him you threw away any remnant of your friendship with him in the bin alongside the book he’d given you, and now here you were, chasing after him to make sure that he was okay.

“Why did you agree to help?”

Your face falls from concern to surprise at his question, and he takes it as a sign to continue.

“I know that you don’t like her, so why are you here?” You could see the beginnings of tears forming in his eyes, clearly overwhelmed with how the investigation was going.

“She’s important to you Spencer. Like her or not I care about you. So therefore I care about her,” You don’t think as you speak, words spilling out of your mouth with no conscious filter.

“I’m sorry.” Spencer’s apology elicits a sigh from your mouth, and you shake your head softly at him.

“Forget it, let’s focus on getting Maeve home safe alright?” He obliges to your request with a purse of his lips and a small nod, turning his eyes towards the ground.

“What’re you thinking about?” His eyes fall on yours once more at your question, round with confusion and glistening with the starts of tears. “I can see it in your face, you’re calculating something in your head,”

He exhales through his mouth in a small laugh. You’d always been able to figure him out, and not just because you were a profiler.

“2,412 hours,” His tone is uncertain, mixed between gratefulness for you observance and something far more upsetting. “That’s how long Maeve and I have contacted each other counting letters and phone calls…”

“That’s what-” You take a second to do the calculation in your head. “100 days?”

“100.5…” He runs his hand backwards through his hair, pressing his eyes closed like he’s afraid tears will spill from them if he doesn’t. “What if that’s all I get?”

“It won’t be Spencer…”

“You don’t know that-“

“Yes Spencer, I do,” You have to consciously suppress the sigh that threatens to leave your mouth, pushing your lingering distaste for Maeve down with it. “She is going to be fine, I promise,”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Turns out Maeve’s ex fiancé wasn’t the stalker. In fact, he was being stalked himself, and whilst JJ and Garcia were looking over the images posted to Robert whilst him and Maeve were still together they discovered something that changed the entire direction of the investigation.

Maeve’s face had scribbled out in eyeliner.

You and the team spent the next thirty minutes rebuilding the profile from the bottom up.

“Celebrity stalkers are usually non violent,”

“You want to tell that to John Lennon Rossi?” Spencer looked up from his lap towards the group at the table, having separated himself from the group to sit on a sofa lining one of the walls so he couldn’t bias the profile.

It wasn’t going too well.

“What was it that Mark David Chapman said after he shot him?” Spencer stood from his seat, anger flaring in his nostrils. “‘It was like all of my nobody-ness and all of his somebody-ness collided’,”

You could hear the rise in his tone as he worked himself up the more he spoke.

“Spencer-“

“Maeve is somebody. And this- bitch is a nobody.”

“Spencer.”

Spencer caught your gaze, and immediately fizzling out of his eyes and replaced with guilt. “I’m sorry- I can’t be very helpful right now I should leave-“

“Yes you can Reid, you have 100.5 days of communication with this girl and a recall everything verbatim,” Morgan’s gaze is entirely concerned with Spencer’s outburst.

“There’s too much of it, and I can’t sort through any of it clearly-“ Spencer is clearly on the edge of breaking, and you can tell he’s not going to be able to keep his composure for much longer.

“Then pick one of us and we’ll go through it with you,” Hotch leaned his elbows against the table, his voice again portraying that soft, parental tone that said he knew how overwhelmed Spencer was getting.

Spencer didn’t even say anything, his eyes just silently flickered over to you and you knew you couldn’t refuse him.

You return his silence as you get up from your seat and pat your hand on his shoulder for the two of you to exit the room together.

Time to torture yourself for the sake of Spencer’s wellbeing.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Diane Turner, a research assistant working for her PhD in the same lab as Maeve. A student who had her thesis rejected because it contained a heavy sample bias that included both of her parents.

It took a while, but Garcia eventually managed to track down a loft that was owned under Diane’s parents’ names, less than 10 minutes away from Maeve’s apartment.

“Take your gun and vest off,” Diane’s voice is harsh through the receiver attached to the front of the building, and Spencer’s eyes flickered up from the silk blindfold in his hands to the metal box.

He doesn’t question the orders as he immediately begins stripping the vest from his torso, dropping it and his gun on the floor.

“Now come in alone.”

“Spencer.” You call out to him as he reaches for the door handle, and he gives you that look that makes your stomach do flips in your torso. Except this time it’s not that pleasant fluttery feeling, but instead an existential dread at the fact that he might not walk out of the building alive.

“I’ll be okay,” He gives you a nod of reassurance as he pushes the door open, and you find yourself clenching your hands around your gun to stop yourself from following after him.

The six of you wait outside for what feels like hours, and you lean back and forth on the balls of your feet as you become increasingly restless with the situation.

Then, a gunshot.

And a second.

And your heart drops in your chest.

You’re not entirely present as you rush into the building with the team following behind you, gun raised at your eyes.

Spencer had to be okay. He had to. He was going to be fine. You were going to walk into that room and he was going to be perfectly fine.

You hoped Maeve was alright too. As much as she was unintentionally causing you literal hell, you knew that she meant everything to Spencer.

You knew that he’d choose her over anything. He’d choose her over you.

And right now you don’t care. You just want him to be okay.

You force the door open to the loft with your foot, gun pointed straight ahead at the first person you see.

“Stay back-“ Spencer practically shouts from where he’s half lying on the floor, right hand clutching tightly at his left bicep, trails of blood cascading down his fingers and onto the floor.

“Stay back stay back don’t shoot-“

You let out an audible sigh at the fact that Spencer wasn’t critically harmed, although upon a whimper of his name from further across the room you turn your eyes up to the noise.

And you finally meet the girl that’s caused you ten months of hell. Held at gunpoint.

That small voice in the back of your head tells you that this might be your chance to finally rid her from your life, to let her succumb to whatever Diane had planned and leave Spencer to you.

But you take one look at the desperation in her eyes and any loathing that remained in your mind immediately fizzled out.

It wasn’t her fault. Of course it wasn’t. She was just a girl that happened to be in love.

“Diane,” Spencer pushes himself to stand, and you can see the pain in his face as he does. “There’s still a way out of this,”

“You never wanted me. Never!” Diane pushes the gun she’s holding hard against Maeve’s neck, and you can see her eyes squeeze closed as she attempts to keep herself from crying. “You lied!”

“I didn’t.”

Spencer shakes his head adamantly, and you glance over at Hotch as you spread across the back of the room, guns raised in Diane’s direction. “Diane, I offered you a deal, and you can still take it,”

“Me for her. Let me take her place,”

You only have a view of the back of Spencer’s head now, but you can tell by the tone of his voice that his expression is a pure display of desperation, one that you’re happy you can’t see because you’d lose your composure in an instant.

“You would do that?” Diane’s question is angry and accusatory, tears rolling down her face as she presses the gun against Maeve’s neck once more.

Spencer nods with no threat in his tone. “Yes,”

“You would kill yourself for her?”

“Yes.”

You practically feel your heart stop.

“Thomas Merton,” Maeve’s voice is almost exactly as you imagined it to be. Soft, smooth and, as Spencer had called it all those months ago, ‘dipped in honey’.

“Who’s Thomas Merton?” Diane’s tone contrasts Maeve’s tenfold, pitchy, uneven and overrun with manic anger.

“He knows,” You can see Maeve’s eyes flicker, and you assume that they meet Spencer’s as his shoulders drop. “He knows.”

“Who’s Thomas Merton?” Diane shakes Maeve in her grasp as if to intensify the urgence of her question, and you tighten your grip on your gun in instinctual response. “Who is he?”

“He’s the one thing you can never take from us,” Maeve’s voice is confident and defiant despite the clear tears in her eyes.

Thomas Merton could’ve been something between Spencer and you.

“No.”

You can see a clear change in Diane’s expression at Maeve’s words, and she lowers the gun from Maeve’s head only to hold it up against her own, staring directly into Spencer’s eyes.

“Wait-”

Spencer barely has time to shout the word before the gun fires, and you flinch at the sound as you watch Maeve and Diane both drop to the floor, dark red blood pooling around the two.

You can feel the tension in the room as everyone computes what just happened, guns lowering slowly as their eyes lock onto the two women on the floor.

You’re not focused on that. You’re focused on the tightness of Spencer’s shoulders as he takes sharp breaths in and out of his nose.

The way he seems to forget about the bullet wound in his arm as his legs give out underneath him.

The way a sob that leaves his mouth despite the fact that he tries to muffle it with his hand.

The way that Spencer broke.

He's crying. Big, heaving, heart-wrenching sobs.

His shoulders are trembling.

His hands are shaking.

His head is hanging downwards so that his hair is covering his face.

You approach him slowly, kneeling down at his side and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

His eyes slowly shift from Maeve, his sobs only seeming to amplify as he meets your gaze. His eyes are red and closely with tears, his cheeks running hot and his lips trembling.

You don’t speak, knowing that you’ll break if you do. Instead, you guide his head into your shoulder and let him crumble in your arms, grieving the loss of the love of his life.

You’re sure you’re going to cry yourself to sleep when you get home, but right now, you needed to be strong. For him.

“I’m so sorry-“ Spencer speaks through broken sobs as you hold him, the rest of the team moving to secure the scene.

“Shh,” You shake your head against his softly, rubbing the palm of your hand up and down his back as you let him cry until he physically couldn’t anymore.

“I treated you so horribly-“ He pulls away from your shoulder to look into your eyes once more. “I’m so sorry- Please don’t leave me…”

You purse your lips into a line, your expression full of so many emotions Spencer can’t distinguish any of them.

“I’m not going anywhere,” You pull his head back into your shoulder, leaning your head against his. “I promise…”

[thewriterg]

𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐳𝐳𝐳𝐬

pairing(s); Leon Kennedy x fem!reader, officer!leon x chief!reader

summary; there was a case that called for some of your best officers out of town and of course you had to bunk with one of your most hard headed recruits of them all leon kennedy —kinktober day; 24—

word count; 1.6k

warning(s); somnophilia, power kink?, reader is an iPad kid for like 5 min, abb riding, degrading, pet names, kisses, and language

A/n:—GIFs; @megamyceted & @eurodynamic— R4 is probably my fav game rn after Silent Hill & Mk1 🤸🏾‍♀️

“I called in for eight rooms there’s no reason there shouldn’t be eight rooms” You hissed at the Manager of the motel the officers giving the man pity from their position in the makeshift lobby travel bags in their hold or resting on your back and Leon whistled lowly to himself which his colleagues would assume was in relief that the heat was finally off himself for once in his career you were hard on him to say the least

He could admit that sometime he could be a little reckless on a case in the field and when he did instead of ripping him a new one like you did everyone else at their personal desks in front of everyone you called him into your office some said it was your way of showing mercy others say that they’d rather take the berating at their desk in front of everyone like usual then be with the ‘final boss’ alone but they all came to one thing to agree on

The blonde got it the worst

All of your officers were fairly new and inexperienced but your older ones knew better and if they fucked up god hellfire sounded like making a snow angel compared to your wrath and Leon wasn’t stupid by any means he knew you gave the rookies a little more leeway but you still didn’t shove a silver spoon up their mouths and it was appreciative disciplined care is what he would call it

“There’s been a problem with housing arrangements me and another person will have to share a room” The blonde was practically crossing his fingers at the opportunity begging mentally please please please choose him while the rest of them prayed to any god that was out there to block the offer coming their way and it was no sweat of the mans back if his competition dropped out the race god if he found your your private bereavement intimate sleeping in the same room as you would be a fucking honeymoon

“Kennedy you’re with me” You declared while he gave you a stoic nod in response even if his his face was warming up and his stomach dropping at the thought of having your attention, being in your presence something that was much more important and meaningful than the pity looks that he was getting from his coworkers was

He had an idea he was your favorite before but now it was written in stone

The ride on the elevator was stiff and foggy to say the least while you handed off room keys to each officer who got off at their assigned floor when needed until his skin was crawling as he tried not to glare at the last man other then himself standing Damon Davis

Leon cleared his throat causing the raven haired man to look at him but it wasn’t his attention he was trying to grasp attention he did not get causing him to repeat his actions causing you look up from you tablet stylus pen resides in your fingers paused from gliding over the screen

“Davis I have you your key are white blind” You questioned and the officer sighed before the responding to you that annoying smirk on his face that Leon just wanted to wipe off-

“I was thinking I would give blondie his own room, he hasn’t really had that hardship why start him now you know?” The pale blue eyed cut from ice man spoke his tone carrying sarcasm resting a toothpick in between his lips and before the blonde could open his mouth to reply you already beat him to it

“Listen Damon I know you’re a little illiterate so I’m going to break this down for you” You sighed letting out little puffs of air at a the situation before your focus goes back to your iPad your tech pen making faint thumps on the surface of the screen

“I’m chief, I’m lieutenant, I’m commanding officer, I’m boss, is that right? Right. So I make the rules I have the last word and I do remember saying Leon Kennedy you are with me tonight because there is a lack of room correct? Correct. The name Damon Davis did not come from my mouth and you’ve disrespected my orders and one of my officers! Do you think we deserve an apology Kennedy? I think we deserve a goddamn apology!”

Leon fought the smirk that tried and succeeded to etch its was on his face the way only looked up from your screen to ask him a rhetorical questioned that you answered yourself the red tinge on his face giving hold all the satisfaction he could need but the apology was definitely the icing on the cake

“I apologize LT, you too Kennedy” The arrogant asshole smell of him begins to leave so he’s finally able to drain his nostrils Damon gets off at the next floor it wasn’t his and it wasn’t yours yet he opted to take the stairs if it meant ignoring the newfound hostility of the the elevator

“Be prepared for weapons cleaning when get get back to base those guns be a good shinning” You called out his as the metal doors shut closed riding your way up higher and higher until you needed a key card to confine the best flood and Leon was surprised to say the least candles lit and rose petals spread throughout the rooms floor and just for a moment he let himself think-

“Couple canceled and it was the last room available ” you mumbled stepping over the teal candles that you were sure was a fire hazard dangerously close to the carpet your legs showing a slip of ankle after stretching

“Please take down those candles, making my head hurt” You weren’t dumb far from it, you had eyes the officer was adorable cute as a fucking button you also noted how he followed your every order and looked at you like you hind every star in the sky

Your eyes traced to the blonde while he positioned himself on his knees his navy blue khaki covered his ass positioned high in the air while he blows out the different rows of candles just like you’d asked him to you shifted your gaze as he lifted from his position on the ground headed to the bathroom with no words spoken the door shut with a ‘click’ behind you

💌💌💌💌

When you wake up in the middle of the night you expect it to be morning but the more you come to a conscious state the more you realize what the hell is actually happening there’s a continuous motion on your thigh and you tilt your head slightly shifting your eyes to see blonde strands of hair peekinginto your peripheral and you feel his face pressed into your back and his hips rotating and grinding against you leg the barricade of pillows holding none of their weight

“Please miss, oh f-fuck please” You can hear him whining and would be lying if the mutter didn’t go straight to you cunt your half asleep dazed state bringing you no luck until you rolled over quickly your bottom half pressed against Leon’s abs just above his v-line while he stared back at you with wide, sultry, eyes

“You’re more of a slut than I thought” You mutter and Leon fights himself to not buck his hips into you at the degradation yet he whines at the sight of you nothing but a cami and boy briefs protecting you from the cold while gusts of winds circulate throughout the room

“Put your hands behind your back… so god help me put your hands behind your fucking back!” You demand barking out orders when Leon pauses and he does it because he’d always do what his Lt wanted so with a slight sit up form crossing his wrist and placing them on the cold mattress before lying on them himself securing his position

“Think it’s okay to use people whore? How you’d like it if I used you hmm?” The blondes heart is pounding as you get off of him and he fights the urge to look at what you’re doing but he’s already in deep shit so he resigns against himself until suddenly you’re on top of him again but this time Leon can feel your heat pressed against his stomach and he groans at the warm embrace engulfing his upper half it’s heaven and hell all in one

“If you touch me I’ll leave you with blue balls” You hissed when he starts trying to grind into getting no where because no pressure was on his aching cock but he stops nonetheless while you begin rolling your hips against the hardness of his abs the firmness of it shooting sparks of pleasure from your belly to your shoulders which hunched while your palms spread out against his chest while the blonde angled his back to arch so his muscles were more prominent to you causing you to moan at the motion

“Oh fuck! S-shit” The look on your face had him awestruck like you created fire, sketched constellations, and sprinkled fairy dust around country’s he felt like he could cum in his pants just from listening to the sounds of pleasure slipping from you lips like honey

“Please miss, just let me help Lt plea-” The blonde whined and before he could complain more your cunt was sat on his mouth muffling his sentence until it died down on his throat while a tongue darted out hitting your bundle of nerves

It was the best way to shut him up

[13thdoctorposts]

What are you thoughts on the relationship that 13 and the Master have?

(asking because your thoughts on everything are so insanely interesting to read)

Thank you for reading my thoughts because they are verbose. lol. so I appreciate you taking the time. 🙏

Complex would be putting it mildly. 😂

First, for me, SpyMaster comes after Missy. The way 13/SpyMaster plays out is a continuation of the 12/Missy dynamic.

At the end of 12's run, when Missy and the Master kill Bill, this sets in motion the way we see 13 engage with SpyMaster. 12 wanted to help bring Missy to the good side. 13 could not care if the Master lives or dies, let alone if he joins the good side. She doesn’t consider their friendship worth anything anymore. Any second chances he has are well in the rearview. In her mind, their relationship is past any point of fixing. But, at the end of Spyfall, when he delivers that message, she still does not care about him or their relationship. But, she wants to know what he knows.

From the SpyMaster view, there is a constant undertone of something more than what he’s saying. He wants to be seen by the Doctor, for example, on top of the Eiffel Tower. When she asks why he’s doing all this, he responds: “To get your attention.” He also hates who he is. It’s because he knows they were so close to being the friends they used to be. But, he destroyed that with the knowledge he found and the actions he took in destroying Gallifrey. Between that and Bill. He knows he'll never get back to where 12 and Missy were. That's what he likely wanted at the start of his new life.

It feels like he loves her so much he hates her and hates her so much because he loves her, super toxic. lol.

My headcanon goes like this: Spy regenerates from Missy. He isn’t the evil villain we see now. But, early in his new journeys, he finds out about the timeless child. It breaks his brain. To Missy, she and the Doctor were equals. This is a key part of Missy's identity. The companions were pets, nothing more. Missy is his only true companion and everyone else pales in comparison. Spy would have thought the same. Then, he finds out about the timeless child. It turns out they aren’t equals at all. What makes him special, the ability to regenerate, comes from her. In his anger, and having his core belief ripped from him, he relapses on being an evil dude. He then nukes Gallifrey.

To him, being evil is like a drug. He wanted to be good. But, getting this information about the timeless child shattered his self-image. It also shattered the way he saw the Doctor and their relationship. It broke his brain and his spirit. Everything he thought he knew about himself and her was a lie. He thought he knew her better than anyone in the universe. But, that isn’t even nearly true. There is so much shattering in his self-image and their relationship. It's the thing he holds most dear, even if he never says it. The pain makes him default to his worst parts.

He was mad at the elites of Gallifrey for what they did to him. But, he was also mad for what they did to the Doctor, even if that was at a deeper level. It's one thing for him to hurt or exploit the Doctor, but another for someone else to do it. After he destroyed Gallifrey for what they did to him and the Doctor, he found that it didn’t satisfy him. It didn't ease his pain. So, the next step was to go after the Doctor, to make her feel as small, used, confused, and beaten as he was. To make her like him, to try and make them equals again. That's why he wanted her to push that button in TTC. It would take them all out. Then, they would have both nuked Gallifrey. They would be equal in that.

He thought he would kill her or they would both die. Then maybe the pain and rage and self-hate he felt would end. It wouldn't, of course. But, he was looking for a fix.

He’s mad at her because she made him who he is. He can't stand that a part of her is why he exists, as he says in the episode. It's why he feels pain. At this point, he’s convinced himself it’s her fault. But, deep down he knows that they used her. He doesn't have anyone else to direct his anger at, so he directs it at her. He’s probably convinced himself that she always knew something was different about her. His pain is fueling so much toxicity. He can't break out of the cycle.

13 is feeling her own trauma and pain from their last interaction. And from the knowledge he gave her and how he delivered it. By the time we get to the Power of the Doctor, she couldn’t be more over him. At this point, he's killed Bill and nuked Gallifrey. He's been a jerk about telling her about her past in the most painful way possible. None of it was her fault, but he had to inflict more pain on her. She can't be bothered with him, but she has no choice. He's continuing to play games. Then he does the most violating heinous thing possible. He regenerates her out of existence and takes over.

13 has had to deal with unmatched violation. In her mind, it could have been her and the SpyMaster (or her and Missy) against the universe. But, the SpyMaster chose violence. 

She's done with him. But, the relationship still holds some meaning to her. She knows it's toxic and wants out so much. But, he just keeps coming back.

13 can be toxic by herself. She deals with trauma in the worst ways. If she just let Yaz in, things could have been so different. However, her toxicity doesn't help their situation. She can be petty too, but it's nothing compared to what he does to her.

They have loved each other their whole lives. But, the Master in all forms struggled each time to choose the Doctor over being evil. A couple of times the Master has. But, by 13/SpyMaster, those have been rare, and the pain too raw. Although she may still love him somewhere deep down, she knows he is bad for her. He is even worse for her companions. That's why she wants nothing more to do with him. I don't think he wants anything more to do with himself. That's why we see him say "don’t let me go back to being me" during the degeneration. But, when he does, he still has to end her like it's a compulsion. Because of his need to make them equals and if it's his time to go then it has to be her time too.

I'm quite long-winded and I'm not 100% sure I've answered what you've asked. Essentially, they are in the universe's most toxic relationship, and she wants out but he won't let her go. Pain, hurt, rage, and love fuel their relationship in the worst ways imaginable.

If I haven't made sense, feel free to ask more questions. I adore how complex, broken, and deep in emotion their relationship is, so I could talk about it for days... obviously 👆🤣

[unholyhelbig]

are you going to continue the spiderperson Kate bishop au?

[a/n: Sorry for the absence! I had to move apartments and that is always a task, especially during the summer]

Title: Magnetic

Ship: Kate Bishop x gn!reader

Disclaimer: I did not proofread, if there are mistakes, I'm sorry!

Trigger warnings: Fight! Fight! Fight!

Main Masterlist | Ao3 | Request Prompts | Join my Taglist!

Part One | Part Two

Summary: Reader is a spider!person from earth-2099 and Kate Bishop is curious about why she's so drawn to them.

“We should get married” the words were whispered to you, her breath hot against your cheek, smelling so thickly of the champagne that was offered upon your arrival. Kate’s nose was comparatively cold, brushing against your skin. It made you shiver, hitting all the way at the base of your spine.

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. Kate’s green eyes were focused on your father again, as he and Lyla gave their alternating speech about the future of Alchemax. They were to change the world, and if they didn’t like the way it had been altered, they’d simply have the power to jump to a new one.

“You’re drunk,” You answered, taking a deliberate sip of your own drink.

“Tipsy, at best and entirely serious at worst.”

You frowned at that, finally devoting your full attention to the woman on your arm. The two of you were matching dark green, something that brought out the gold in her eyes. What your father was saying had no weight to it, never did. Sure, you understood the bare minimum of his science, and you were just here for obligation, but now his speech turned into a dull hum.

Nothing else mattered other than the small smile on Kate’s face, her arm looped through yours, warm and steadying. She plucked another flute from a catering tray and when she took a drink, red rimmed the glass.

“Is this a formal offer?” You asked, eyebrow raised.

“Just a thought. I’d expect a ring, you know?”

You parted your lips to respond, but the room flooded with a roar of clapping and cheers. Kate winked at you and turned her attention back to the stage. Your father had found you through the crowd, his hands clenching both sides of the glass podium.

His head was cocked to the side, jaw working in anger. There was a hatred behind his stare, one that went past general annoyance. You raised your hands, clapped with the rest of the crowd. Lyla put a hand on your father’s shoulder, drawing him back, a smile complacent on his face.

The air that you pulled into your lungs was cold and damp, a stark contrast to the warmth you had drifted into. At some point, a window opened, and a cold wind whipped through a living room that you barely recognized.

The sun was peaking over the horizon, and deep glowing embers from a dying fire failed to provide any heat. You squinted at the rain on the windowsill, what had dribbled in from a quick entry.

Your eyes moved to each darkened corner of the room, something that looked so familiar to your own apartment, but lived in, comfortable. There was a sense of dread in the pit of your stomach- one that was strong enough to wake you from a fitful sleep coated in memories of a life lost.

There was pressure in your head, every inch of hair on your body standing on end. Without thinking, because thinking was bad when it came to Spider Sense, you just had to do, you grabbed the throw pillow from under your head and held it in front of you.

The sound of ripping fabric filled your ears and feathers exploded all around you. It had been torn into two, and as you stared up at the blob of a person who had done that pillow homicide, you struggled to gather your thoughts.

Without the grunt of frustration, you wouldn’t have recognized him, not as your eyes adjusted to the slowly rising sun. In your sleep-ridden state, you still managed to wedge your foot under your attacker and toss him across the room, knocking picture frames and keyholders from their designated place.

“Miguel?”

You were standing now, staring at your older brother with enough contempt to light the end of a torch. He lumbered over the room, his shadow reaching you. With each breath he took, he growled. His eyes were unblinking, red.

“I didn’t want to believe it.” He hissed, “That you… were world hopping.”

He sounded older, angrier than you had ever heard him before. His fists were clenched and as the light filled the room you got a good look at his suit, his mask pulled off and wild black hair falling into his stare. His teeth were pointed, bared like a wild animal. You ran your tongue over your own, keeping them sheathed.

The last time you saw Miguel was at the very dinner you had left to get your father for. He was in a stupid patterned sweater that you were poking fun at all night. But there were laugh lines around his eyes and warmth that was lacking from the room now.

Your voice cracked “Did dad do this to you?”

“I asked him to, begged him. He’s been so focused on getting you back that it took some convincing. More than some, really. Day and night all he would do is stare at the monitor tracking your signature.” Miguel lilted his head to the side “He fell asleep just in time for you to pop up in this world.”

“Does he know?”

“I came as soon as I saw. I wanted to see my big bad sibling in the flesh. Infused with vampire DNA, strong enough to dismantle father brick by brick with his… his longing.”

“Miguel, does he know?”

“Not yet.”

Tension leaked through the distance in the room. You could taste the feathers in your mouth, lingering with the blood from a chewed lip. This was not the brother you remembered. This was a mercenary, this was a man who had no grip on reality.

“While I’m super stoked about the reunion, brother, this isn’t my place and you’ve already shredded a throw pillow” A lamp shattered by your head, echoing off the wall and sprinkling glass at your feet. You looked down at the mess and back up at him. “Dude?”

Miguel moved with a quickness that mirrored yours, his claws exposed and swiping through the air. You grasped his wrist, using your other hand and your strength behind it to hit him in the stomach. You felt the air rush from his lungs, hot on your face.

“Reunions are for the weak. Love is for the weak.” He pulled your arm back and you grunted in pain, shoulder popping. “That’s always been your biggest problem.”

You frowned, using the weight behind you to push him over the back of the sofa and onto the hardwood floor. He scrambled, hitting the back of his head against the tabled pushed up to the window. The sun was streaming through now, orange and unforgivingly strong.

“Weak? You’re the one that’s always hidden behind daddy’s money, his science. Don’t you understand Miguel? I didn’t want this. I didn’t want any of this. I had everything, and I was happy.”

“Yes. Weak.” He hauled himself to his feet, using the back of his hand to wipe away a streak of blood from his lip. “Naive. You put all of yourself into one girl and that was a liability. That angered father more than anything, you know? He gave you the world and you squandered it for someone rotting in a wooden box.”

He meant to provoke anger. It was a tactic that he used often and ferociously since the two of you were children. Miguel had a mean streak and was quick to rage. He would rip your toys apart with his bare hands, and during one particularly nasty fight right before your senior prom he had gnawed the cap off an ink pen and dripped it across the fabric of your outfit.

Kate had reassured you that it was fine, that none of it mattered and was superficial anyway. Still, when she arrived on your doorstep dark blue splotches muddied her silver dress. A smile cracked against her lips. She had even found a blue carnation to match.

There were good moments with Miguel. More good than bad, if you looked back on it. Once he matured, and apologized for his behavior, there was still an edge of jealousy around him. His need to please. You had let go of that aspect of yourself years before when you realized nothing you did would satiate your father.   

Regardless of his intention, it provoked the right reaction. You were, after all, mostly human and when your brother pushed your buttons, he did with intention. You found yourself on top of him, knees on either side as you shoved his shoulders to the wooden floor. In a blind rage, you threw as many hits as you could; one after the other, your knuckles aching, each time you pulled back more black blood would coat your knuckles.

Your own claws, something you barely exposed, pushed into the soft skin of your palms, a sharp sting aiding in your anger. Eventually you felt an arm around your midsection, pulling you back with unnatural strength.

“Whoa, Whoa, Whoa!” Peter’s voice snapped you out of it.

You felt the aching of your shoulder, no doubt pulled out of place for the second time this month. You tried to blink away the anger, the despair that came with Miguel’s statement. Blood dripped from your fingers, puddling on the carpet. Deep breathes, you just needed deep breaths.

There was another hand on your shoulder, the scent of egg and bread that wormed it’s way through the metallic air in the room. The grasp was tender, and a hand was on your face, leading you.

Kate

Again, she had shown up at the most inopportune time. You’d absolutely ruined the shirt she had given you, and feathers were stuck to the blood in your hair. Miguel would be fine, you were sure. Afterall, you healed the same way.

“Hey,” Kate ran her fingers over your cheeks, “Y/n, come back to me, alright? Put the teeth away.”

The teeth. God, you had bitten through your bottom lip. You ran your tongue over the sharpened tips, relished the pressure that was released when you let them escape. Still, you were quick to reign it back in, take a shaking breath.

You came back to the room around you. It was a wreck; glass sprinkling the wooden floor, features coating every viable surface. Miguel let out a soft groan, masked with a gurgle. Peter was at his side, fingers searching haplessly for a pulse. He wouldn’t find a strong one.

They had gotten breakfast, leaving you alone in the apartment to sleep. Quickly, you wiped your fingers on the already ruined garment, giving Kate a pleading look of an apology. There was no fear behind her eyes, nothing that evaded to disgust of the monster that was standing in front of her. Because that’s what you were at the end of the day.

The same monster that was lying unconscious on the floor. You had the same teeth, and claws, and DNA running through your veins. The experiment had worked on you in the same manner. And part of you- part of you wondered if your Kate would still feel the same way about you, looking at you now.

“He,” Your voice was soft, garbled, so you cleared your throat “He won’t stay out for long.”

Kate pleaded silently, “Pete?”

“I’ve got it.”

You were being led into the back bedroom. It was Kate’s, something apparent by the abundance of trophies, and a workstation that was littered with small pieces of explosives. There was a target with a news article for King Pin strapped against it’s center. Her aim, of course, was impeccable.

It smelled like her, the scent cutting through the blood and the dizziness that rushed through you, an after-effect of the anger. She led you to the bed, plopping you down and digging in the bottom drawer of her desk. Kate emerged with a first-aide kit. You let her busy herself, blinking away the rest of the disorientation.

You attempted to get up, but Kate pushed you back down gently, deliberately. There was a stern look on her face that was enough to keep you in your place. You’d let her play doctor, fix up the wounds that struggled to heal. Her touch was gentle, soothing, and constant.

“This was a horrible idea.” Kate admonished, a frown on her face as she shifted through the loose bandages and the small packets of anti-septic. She was mumbling under her breath, something that was a mix of annoyance and worry. “I told you it was an awful idea and now-“

You gently grabbed her hands, halting her movement. She looked up at you, eyes hard with anger. But they softened only a moment later, a quiet surrender. You had a goofy smile on your face. The blood had dried at your hairline and maybe it was the head injury itself, but this was entirely too comical to deny.

“Katie, I fully accepted the consequences the minute I agreed to spar with Jack.”

“I’m going to kill him.”

“Love, I promise I’m okay” You laughed, moving your hand against her cheek with a softness that ebbed away the rest of her rage. “Give me a bandage and some ice and I’ll be as good as new, I swear it.”

It was supposed to be a family dinner, and then you and Jack started riling each other up over dessert. Kate’s mother swallowed a gulp of red wine and rolled her eyes, shrugging at her daughter as if there was nothing to do to stop the course of events.

Eventually, the coffee tables were pushed to the side and the fencing sabers were brought out. Kate was much better than you were by miles and miles of talent. But you could hold your own. It got out of hand, a little too competitive.

Kate was exasperated, but it only lasted for a few moments before the smile melted her exterior and she grinned herself. “Fine. Fine. You did good. It’s not your fault that you chose to puff out your chest against a swordsman.”

“Hey, I think I did amazing until I tripped over the coffee table.”

“Sure, baby. Very valiant.”

You huffed, but let Kate guide your head to the side. You winced with the alcohol pad started to wipe away the deep brown color. No stitches needed, just a strategically placed bandage. Kate placed a soft kiss between your eyebrows.

“You know,” you said, pressing your forehead against hers “You are in the perfect position to propose right now.”

“Without a ring?” Kate beamed, her nose scrunching up “Not a chance.”

Kate frowned, her thumb moving against your hairline “It looks like you’ve healed.”

There were alcohol pads scattered against the bed. They were dark red, then brown, then a soft pinkish-orange. The pad of her finger traced a barely visible scar. Electricity moved across your skin.

“It’s alright,” you assured “I’m… I’ll help clean up the mess. I’m sorry.”

Your mind was swimming and not in smooth waters. Kate looked so much like Kate. She had the same concern, the same tender touch. You stared at her, hair falling into your eyes. There had been a moment last night, before you drifted to sleep, that allowed you to hope.

Miguel had squashed it, just as he had the night that he bit into a blue ink pen. He got the same amount of blue pigment on his lips that he did on your dress, and part of you wanted to laugh at the metaphor.

“I don’t care about the mess, y/n. You’re what matters.” She grimaced, laid her hand on your knee. “Are you alright? Who is that man?”

“My older brother. He’s got a nasty temper and it won’t take long for my father to follow him through whatever hell he crawled out of.”

Again, you attempted to stand, but Kate pushed you back down with more force this time. Her hand had moved to your shoulder, keeping you in place. “Relax for a second, alright? We knew this was coming. This is just an extra obstacle.”

“An obstacle with the power of splice DNA like a God.” You laughed humorlessly.

“Okay, a big obstacle, but nothing we can’t overcome.”

“You’re way too optimistic for eight am.”

The dorky smile on Kate’s face was wiped away when a loud clang came from the living room. You winced, sucking air through your teeth. Kate was on her feet and pulling the door open in a moment. You were close behind, the lavender scent that clung to the girl tickled your throat.

Her mouth was propped open in shock. All of the furniture was upside down, the couch belly-side up. There were DVD’s everywhere and a potted plant that splayed dirt across the hardwood floor. The breakfast still seemed intact, but the coffee had spilled, something that caused Kate to jut her bottom lip out in a pout.

Peter stood by the window, both of his arms outstretched, and his palms pointed towards the floor. His eyes were widened. “I- one minute he was right there, and then the next, gone! Everything was floating, like gravity just got turned off.”

“Huh,” Kate lilted her head to the side “not was weird as fifteenth street bodega guy.”

“He’s gone,”

“No, pretty sure we saw him on the way to get breakfast this morning.”

You groaned, putting your head in your hands. “Not the bodega guy. My brother.”

“Right, right. No, I knew that.” Kate nodded, her face stoic again.

“He’s going to come back.” You said.

“Look, it… it doesn’t matter. Because when he does come back, we’ll be able to handle it. I have already called Clint and Yelena. They’re both in and with all four of us, there’s no way we can lose.”

There was a sadness in your eyes as you looked at the hopefulness in Kate’s. This was putting too many people out, pulling Clint away from his family and Yelena away from… whatever Yelena did in this universe. In most of them, she wasn’t fond of you.

“We wait for them to get here and come up with a strategy that will be fool proof. We can’t fail.” Kate knelt down, picking up the discarded bag of breakfast. She rummaged until she found what she was looking for and looked up at you, holding a bagel. “But first, we eat.”

“I can’t believe you’re thinking about food right now.” You shouted over the sideways smattering of rain. It would shift directions with each new gust of wind, making the awnings you and Kate had crowded under obsolete.

You’d taken off your jacket and draped it over Kate’s shoulders when the first drops had started. Both of you naively thought you could make it back to the apartment before the storm rushed in full-force.

The two of you had closed out a restaurant, never running out of conversation, drinking a full bottle of red even after dessert had been served and cleared. Now she breathed evenly, her nose inches from yours, your back against the outer wall of a storefront.

A few drops of rain sparkled in her hair, the gold flecks in her eyes noticeable when you were this close. Kate hugged your jacket closer. She chuckled, shaking her head. “I’m just saying, the ice cream in the freezer is calling my name.”

You hummed, pressing your lips to Kate’s. You could taste the earth of the wine, the coolness of the rain. She smiled into the kiss, sighing into you. She shivered, keeping her forehead pressed to yours. Thunder shook the windows of the building. Kate pulled your coat tighter around her shoulders. The woman frowned and you lilted your head to the side as she fumbled with the jacket.

“No, wait Katie-“

She pulled out a small dark green velvet box, one eyebrow lifted. Kate’s eyes met yours and you sighed, your breath forming in the air in front of you. Kate was holding hers. You carefully pulled open the lid.

Inside was a white gold engagement ring with a round diamond in the center. Two smaller ones bordered the largest stone. You had spent days talking with Clint before Laura stepped in and went ring shopping with you. And then- then the ring sat in your coat pocket for a month, weighing it down, your thumb moving across the green box more than once in question.

“I was waiting for the perfect time.” You explained, blush against your cheeks. “But nothing seemed good enough. And, maybe I’m thinking too much about it, Katie, but you deserve the entire world and every time I thought about proposing it didn’t’ seem good enough.”

“Hey,” she said softly, placing her hand on your cheek, her thumb moved across and you relished the warmth of her touch. “Hey, you’re rambling, darling.”

“That’s my line.” You sniffed, shaking your head “So… What do you say? Will you marry me?”

“Oh, I don’t know, you have to woo me first.” She said in a sigh, “Of course, I’ll marry you.”

You grinned, pulling Kate in by the lapels of your jacket. There was a whisper of honey in the taste of her tongue, a quiet longing that seemed to fill the hole in your heart. Kate hummed, pulling back every so slightly.

“Oh! Right!” You fumbled, pulling the ring from the box carefully. It was weightless, but with a heaviness that countered the pouring rain. You ran your fingers over Kate’s, gently guiding them until you could slip the ring onto her hand.

“It’s beautiful,” Kate breathed, “and perfect.”

Taglist 💜: @lovelyy-moonlight

[glitchy-witchy1994]

In this AU(Named "The living rose"), Grandma Rosiepuff did not die trying to save Branch.

She is still alive and well.

Clay decided to stay at the Troll tree instead of leaving.

The Burgens were eating Trolls since before Brozone started and that is the reason why Brozone's parents are missing. They got eaten a month after Branch was born.

If you have other questions about this AU feel free to ask!

Enjoy!

"See what happens when you don't follow my lead?" John Dory exclaimed as he entered their Grand Mother's pod, clearly furious about their first show being ruined.

Spruce, who was following the leader close, stopped and looked at John with an offended look. "Dude, that is exactly what happens when we follow your lead." He responded.

John turned to face Spruce. "Oh, so it's my fault? Is that what you're saying?" He asked, getting back to his own obsession to reach the perfect family harmony. "I know we can reach the perfect family harmony."

Spruce rolled his eyes and looked back at John. "What if we don't want to?"

"Yeah, dude." Clay added, as he made his presence known after entering the pod and hearing his two older brother arguing. "This used to be fun. Now it's all about being perfect." he added, looking at John with a sad expression, hoping John would see and realize his mistakes.

But instead, Spruce spoke up once more. "You know what? I'm done playing the heartthrob. My exquisitely chiseled rock-hard abs and I quit." He said as he ripped his puffed purple jacket.

Hearing this, Clay agreed and had enough as well. "I quit too, and you can keep these." He said as he ripped his funderdrawers and threw them at John's face. "I'm more than just the fun one. I'm in a sad book club, did you know that? A sad book club. I'm gonna find Trolls who take me seriously." he added, but before he could do anything else, John huffed.

"Fine. I don't need this. I'm out. I'm done. I'm sorry." The leader said as he turned away, grabbing his grappling hook and backpack. "I'm gonna go hike the Neverglade Trail by myself, bro-lone." He grunted as he pulled the trigger on his grappling hook out the window. "Yeah, that's right. Bro-bro going solo! Yolo! Goodbye forever." He added as he left out the window.

Spruce and Clay rolled their eyes. "Fine! I'm out of here." Clay said first, as they then heard John yell "Later, losers." from afar. "Same here" Spruce agreed, following Clay out the door. Leaving Floyd and Branch with their Grandma.

As Clay was walking away from their home, Spruce following close behind, he started to think about the situation. If John was gone, they could come back and live however they want! John won't be there to ruin everything anymore! John won't be there to stop them from doing the things they loved to do anymore! Best of all, John won't be there to always blame Clay for everything anymore either! And they could be with Branch instead of abandoning him! "Oh god, I was about to abandon Branch..." He though stopping dead in his track. Spruce passed by him, still angry about everything. Clay reached for Spruce's arm to make him stop and listen. "Spruce... maybe we should go back home." he said, his voice giving away the fact he was scared.

"What? Why would you do that?" Spruce said, somehow Clay's words were making him even angrier. "Do you really want to go back there? Things won't get better, it'll just be worst." He added, yanking his arm away from Clay's grip.

"N-no! John is gone, Spruce. He can't make things worst if he's gone! We can finally do the things we want to do!" Clay said, trying to convince Spruce, the brother he was closest to, to go back home with him.

Spruce slowly took a few steps back. "What I always wanted was to leave and live my life however I want, somewhere else." He said, turning away and leaving. He did not even look back when Clay tried to plead for him to turn back.

Clay was left alone at the base of the tree, wondering if he really should leave or stay. If he left, he could start his own sad book club, go to college, meet new people...

But on the other hand, if he stayed, Branch and Floyd wouldn't be alone... he could spend time with them and have the best time! But what was the point if his only best friend is gone..?

He thought for a long moment before making up his mind. He was going to stay! He turned back and went back to his Grandma's pod. As he entered, Floyd was gone and Rosiepuff had just gotten Branch to bed. "Where's Floyd?" Clay asked, as his Grandma make a sad face.

"He left too." She answered, going back to the table and finish her game by herself.

Clay sighed, went to his room to gather his things and left again. But this time, he found an empty pod close to his Grandma's pod to live on his own.

*****

As the years passed, Branch and Clay would spend a lot of time together and have the best time! Clay would help Branch become more vigilant and alert as to not get taken by Burgens, and Branch would tell his Grandma everything once he was back home. Branch loved having Clay around, but he missed the others a lot.

Clay was growing tall and his hair were slowly turning green, just like his skin was getting more green-ish blue. "He is starting to look like you, Rosalina!" Rosiepuff thought, as she remembered her daughter. She was tall, like Rosiepuff, had soft green-ish blue skin tone, magenta hair and blue eyes. She remembered how Rosalina would laugh at everything and was always full of joy. She was protective of her sons, sing them lullabies and be the best mom Rosiepuff knew she would become.

Grandma shook her head, now was not the time to cry. She needed to be strong for her two Grandsons.

One day, the King asked everyone to meet inside of the tree for a very important meeting with the entire tribe. There he explained, without the Burgens knowing, that they had dug up a tunnel that lead to their freedom and that he wanted everyone to be ready to leave early in the morning.

They were going to leave right before Trollstice would begin.

Without hesitations, all Trolls began building fake copies of themselves to trick the Burgens and they all packed their things.

The next morning, Trollstice began earlier than usual. Since the Burgen Prince never tasted a Trolls, the Burgens decided to celebrate early, which made the Trolls' escape difficult. Their escape was discovered and the Burgens started to dig and search for the Trolls...

In the tunnels, Branch had gotten separated from his Grandma through the chaos and was searching franctically for her or his brother. Rosiepuff had gotten out, but was forced to stay out when she tried to go back for her Grandsons. Branch panicked and was about to break down, but his arm got snatched by Clay who was running as fast as he could.

But the tunnel in front of them collapsed. Clay made a split second decision and threw Branch away in front right before the debris of the tunnel hit the ground. Branch was safe and made it out, but Clay was nowhere to be found...

Thinking they just had lost Clay, Branch turned grey as Rosiepuff tried to make him believe he might still be alive, but Branch had already lost hope...

****

Back in the tunnel, Clay groaned from pain as he got caught by the debris of the collapse. His legs were stuck under big rocks and he couldn't move. A few minutes passed by and he heard some noises. He opened his eyes and saw Princess Viva running to him with some other survivors.

They got him out and tried to find another way to escape, but they got cornered. That was then that Princess Viva, filled with sadness and regrets, fought back against the Burgens. Clay, with a broken leg, helped the rest of the survivors escape out of Burgen town through the streets.

Making sure they weren't spotted by other Burgens, Clay successfully brought everyone to safety, with Viva following soon after.

"Is everyone alright?" Viva asked, then looked at Clay after everyone else nodded. "What about you? What's your name? You look familiar!" She asked, looking at Clay up and down.

"I'm fine. My name is Clay." He responded.

"Nice to meet you! My name's Viva, but you probably already knew that! I saw how you helped everyone escape while I was fighting those meanies off." She said, thinking for a moment and then looked back at Clay. "Would you accept to help me lead them to a new home?" She asked.

"It would be my pleasure!" He responded, with a small smile.

She smiled back and they took off to find a new home. After a few hours, Viva found an old abandoned Golf course and decided to turn it into a new Troll utopia.

Once everyone was settled, Viva went to see her new friend. "Hey! How's your leg?" She asked as she sat down beside him on a bench.

"Still hurts, but it should be fine!" Clay answered. "How are you?" He asked, knowing what she had just lost the very same day. And since no one was around, she finally broke down.

She cried for hours, with Clay comforting her as best as he could. While she cried, he couldn't stop thinking about Branch. Was he safe? Did he make it out? Was Grandma gone? He had no answers to these questions, but deep down, he hoped they were okay.

Once Viva calmed down, she looked at him with a serious expression. "Will you lead these survivors with me?" She asked, looking away now with a sad expression. "I-I can't lead them on my own..."

"Of course! I'll help you out!" He replied with a smile.

Viva smiled back as she heard his response, she looked back at him again. "Pinky promise you won't leave me too?" She asked, lifting her closed fist up with only her pinky out.

Clay took her pinky in his, as he answered: "I pinky promise!"

[n30nwrites]

5 Seconds You Can't Get Back

Please Read the trigger Warnings

This is for a platonic The Lost Boys, this is strictly platonic and strictly a vent for me. As the reader you are allowed to see it as how you want but this will be told as platonic and I do not want any comments about romance/any negative comments about it in general.

Again this is a vent for me, about me, what I have gone through and I'm sorry if that sounds rude but I'm trying to cope.

TW - Romantic Partner Death, Suicide, Suicidal ideation, Suicidal talk, grief,

It's been a month since it's happened.

You had to go through Valentine's day alone, technically you spent it with your friends and family, yet it still felt like you were alone.

Just certain moments, when it got particulary loud and you went to turn to speak to him only to realize he wasn't there. Or when you would grab extra food for him just to realize he wasn't going to be eating it.

The worst were the texts. Going back in the conversation never noticing the signs, and continue to text him despite knowing he won't respond.

It's been 41 days.

Your mother called it selfish, his actions. His suicide was selfish.

You could understand why she would think that. But she couldn't understand why you thought something else. That you understood completely why he did it, that life was so fucking horrible that he couldn't go on.

You understood that, you had felt the same. You feel the same currently.

Your friends had no idea.

David, Dwayne, Paul, Marko. Ripping off the bandage that you were alone now.

They were too happy, they wouldn't understand. They were too wild and free, they wouldn't understand being tied down to a body buried 6ft under, that the entire idea of breathing without him seemed too heavy.

So you didn't tell them. You told your mother and your sister and that was it. Because they wouldn't talk about it with you and avoiding it seemed to be the best course of action for you.

It wasn't but who cared.

The boardwalk was loud and distracting, as were the boys. They were bouncing around, quickly going from one place to the next.

"How come we haven't seen **** around?" Paul is the first to ask, he's been brought up in conversation before but never directly.

"He's been sick lately" It's so easy to lie to them and yourself. That he's actually alive and hasn't killed himself.

"Ahh, I hope he get's better soon."

You hope he does too. In some twisted way.

----------

Again this is a vent, this is for me. And This is me venting, it's not long because it's taking a lot but honestly it's kind of refreshing lol. This is for me, by me and I don't care for any comments. Sorry if that sounds rude but I needed something.

[phangirlof]

Is it Over Now?

Pairing: Willhelm x Simon

Word Count: 7451

Summary: Picks up Two years after season1 of Young Royals. Simon decides it’s best to break things off and move on despite that being the last thing either him or Willhelm want to do.

Two years. Simon tried to hold back tears as his thoughts kept racing to places he couldn't get them away from. For the last two years he’d been Willhelm’s dirty little secret. His hidden trophy. The toy he kept selfishly from the rest of the kids. At first it was much easier to push these thoughts to the side but now? After countless secret sleepovers and meet ups. Short lived glances in the hallways or across the lunch table. He was so tired of feeling guilty and ashamed of himself, as if he was doing something wrong. Like some part of who he was was dirty. 

He loved that boy with everything in him. From his heart to his soul and everything else in between. No one he’d ever met had even come close to making him feel the way Wilhelm did, but at the same time no one had quite broken his spirit as much as he did either. 

“If you loved me I wouldn’t feel like this Wille. If you loved me like you say you do then I wouldn’t have to lie about our relationship to the whole world. I want someone to love me unconditionally and wholeheartedly and not worry about the consequences. They love me and they would stop at nothing or no one to love me. And I know that you can’t do that.” 

“But I do. I really really do Simon. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.”

“It’s okay, I know it’s not your fault.” 

The look in Willhelm’s eyes was slowly ripping Simon’s heart to shreds. All he wanted was to stay strong and get through this conversation. Move on and finally close the door on this chapter of his life. He was tired of hurting but hurting Wilhelm was truly the last thing he wanted to do. 

“Please Si, don’t do this. Give me just a little more time and I’ll make everything right. I promise.” The tears continued to fall and Wilhelm didn’t care to wipe them away. 

“I love you. I always will but for my own sanity I just can’t do this anymore.”

Simon gathered his belongings and started to make his way home, leaving Wilhelm behind. What had started out as a nice day alone, the two boys laying around on a blanket hidden away at a park nearby Simon’s house turned into the one thing Simon never anticipated. Their breakup. The further away he walked, the more tears of his own cascaded along his cheeks. Although he wanted nothing more than to turn around and run back into Wilhelm’s arms, he knew this was for the best, despite how shitty and broken he felt. 

In the distance he could hear Willhelm calling his name. Simon didn’t know what else could be said but he turned around anyway. 

“I will do whatever it takes to be with you.” Simon didn’t know how to respond so he just gave the other boy a weak smile and carried on the way he came. 

It’d been months since he last talked to Willhelm. Some days were easier than others. Some days he was really busy with classes, studying extra hard especially with graduation closer than ever, and the rowing team. Now that August was gone, Simon had been voted team captain and he had more responsibility than ever. But it was days like this that got to him the worst. Days where he was all caught up on homework and all of his friends were too busy to hangout. Days where he had nothing to keep his thoughts occupied. 

It would start with small memories like their first kiss or when they first met. The way he caught Willhelm’s attention and held onto which always resulted in an adorable, pink blush spreading across Willhelm’s face and him sheepishly looking away. Then he would move on to thinking about their first sleepover at his house. They were so excited to spend so much alone time together, they accidentally stayed up all night talking. No matter how many good memories came to mind, everything always ended up going back to the sex scandal and how alone he felt when Willhelm denied all the rumors. 

A knock on Simon’s door gratefully interrupted his thoughts. He reached for his phone, turning the music down he had originally turned on to ease his thoughts. “Simon, it’s Sara. Open up!” Sara shouted after knocking once more. A small grin took over his face. “I’m coming, I’m coming. Don’t be so impatient.” He rolled out of bed to let her in. 

“Hello.” She said. Sara gave Simon a little wave as she entered the room and plopped down on his bed. “Hey Sara, what are you doing here? Not that I don’t enjoy your company.” Simon said, taking claim of the other side of the bed. “I thought you were going to a party with Felice tonight.”

“I am, but I wanted to see if you’d come too.” Despite the overwhelming urge to just stay in his room, Simon knew it was much better than being stuck thinking about things he couldn’t change. “Umm, yeah. I’d love to. What time does it start?” He asked. 

“I think about an hour ago.” She said with a quick shoulder shrug. Simon couldn’t help but laugh. “And you waited ‘til after the party started to see if I wanted to go?” 

“Yeah, I kinda forgot about the party so when Felice called I told her I was waiting on you to get ready. She’s waiting on us downstairs so I need you to hurry up.” Simon shook his head and continued to laugh. 

“Okay well get out so I can change and I’ll be down there soon.” Sara left without another word. Simon looked through piles of clothes trying to decide what to wear. He hadn’t been out in so long he had no clue what to wear. After a brief moment of panic he decided he would wear something simple. A plain t-shirt and jeans. It’s not like I have anyone to impress. Simon pushed the thought aside and finished getting ready. His final touches were a couple of bracelets, a chain, and a spritz of cologne. The last thing he did before he left for the night was shove his phone in his pocket and cut off his bedroom lights and with that he was on his way to the party.

***

Simon’s head was killing him. He’d gotten way too drunk way too fast and now he was paying for it. He couldn’t go too long without throwing up. Not to mention every time he tried to stand up his vision blurred and he ended right back on the floor. In all of the party hype he’d also managed to lose Sara and Felice. Gratefully for him he’d managed to find the bathroom which is exactly where he had spent most of his night. Hugged up to one of the nastiest toilets he’d ever seen was the quietest place he’d been since he arrived at this party, not that he was complaining. 

Simon patiently waited for everything to stop spinning and his stomach to settle before he tried to get up again. Once he was up and moving, he slowly made his way back to the party. To his shock the teenage chaos had settled down some. Usually these parties would go on the whole weekend. Whoever was in charge of the music had completely changed the vibe. Before he left they were blaring loud, bass heavy rap music and now it was smooth r&b. It was very soothing to him. Now Simon could actually hear himself think.

“There y-you are, we’ve been l-looking for you!” Sara slurred, latching Simon into a drunken side hug. Felice tried to gently pull her off so they could talk. “Really, where have you been? We looked all over for you!” Felice exclaimed. She was nowhere near as drunk as Simon or Sara. “I got really d-dizzy and s-sick. I don’t know how I got there, but I ended up in the b-bathroom.” Simon replied, sending a lazy gesture towards the men’s room he’d just left. 

“Well I’m glad you’re okay, but I guess that means you haven’t heard.” Felice’s entire demeanor changed once she finished her sentence. Simon looked at her puzzled. “What do you m-mean? Have I heard w-what?” Felice silently took out her phone and handed it to him. 

Upon first glance Simon had no clue what he was looking at. His eyes just wouldn’t focus in, but after a moment of struggling he finally got it. It was someone’s instagram. Simon checked the username. It was Willhelm’s account. The post itself was nothing but a black screen, however Simon came to realize that the caption was what was important. 

Hello. Willhelm here. Against my mother’s wishes I have two announcements to make. My first announcement is my coming out. I’m gay. Yep, the crown prince is gay. Someone very important to me made it clear that a life of hiding who I really am to keep up a fake persona is not one worth living, so I won’t be living it anymore. I hurt the most important person in my life trying to please everyone else and this is only the first step to make it up to them. I’m proud to be who I am and from here on out I will always be proud and open about it. Now that that’s out of the way my second announcement is to let everyone of Sweden know that I am stepping down from my position of Crown Prince. I’m well aware that after the passing of my brother, it was my duty to take his place, but it was never what I wanted. All I ever wanted was to be a normal kid and to live a normal life and that’s exactly what I intend to do. Thank you for reading, but for now this is all I have to say. 

Simon just kept reading the long message over and over again. He was racking his brain just trying to understand exactly what Willhelm had done. He finally publicly came out. He told the entire world that he was gay. The two had had too many conversations about this although Simon never thought Willhelm would ever actually be able to. He was the crown prince of Sweden after all. He had a certain prestigious, good boy image to keep up and his mother made it very clear what he was and wasn’t allowed to share with the public.

It was the second part of the message that Simon really had trouble wrapping his brain around. Willhelm was stepping down? Is that allowed? Is there anyone else to take his place? There’s no way in hell his mother will actually allow this. Simon had so many thoughts racing through his head. He just couldn’t make sense of it all. 

“Simon, Simon?” Felice was snapping her fingers in front of him, trying to get his attention. “Are you okay?”

“I,” Simon was at a complete loss for words. And thoughts. And feelings. He had no idea what this meant or if this even meant anything for him. “don’t know.” Surely Willhelm didn’t do this for him. Too much time had passed since he’d even laid eyes on him. There was no way he did this for him. 

Simon closed his eyes. He needed just one moment to think. This was too much for him to handle right now. He’d spent these last few months trying to convince himself that Wilhelm was well on his way to moving on. He kept trying to beat it into his brain that their break up was for the best and that everything would be okay. That he was on his way to moving on too. However all it took was some stupid instagram post to ruin all his progress. 

Felice hooked one arm around Sara and the other around Simon.“Hey Simon, let’s get you back to the dorms.” Simon opened his eyes and shook his head in agreement. The longer he stayed at this party, the harder it got to breathe. He knew he was being ridiculous, nevertheless it felt like everyone was staring at him. It felt like everyone had read the same thing he did, but they knew he was the reason behind it all. 

Maybe it was his lack of attention or maybe it was all the shortcuts Felice was taking, but Simon was back in his room in no time. Felice had gotten him everything he could need before she left. A cold bottle of water and a back up one for later, a trash can, and a couple of snacks. He was starving. After the party and Wilhelm’s bombshell announcement, he’d barely realized he hadn’t eaten anything all night. He had other things on his mind right now. He had millions of questions. All in all, he was still having a hard time comprehending exactly what had happened tonight. 

After all, what was the point of all this? As far as he knew Wilhelm was finally accepting all his royal responsibilities. The last few times they were together, Wilhelm actually seemed kinda excited. In fact he’d been doing so well with representing the royal family and behaving himself (to the Queen’s standards of course), the Queen herself was quite impressed. Simon didn’t know when things changed for Wilhelm, or why he might be the turning point for him. 

Simon sighed and reached into his pocket for his phone. It was six am. He was exhausted. Tonight had been way too much for him to handle. Earlier that night was the drunkest he’d been since his first year of Hillerska. Simon put his phone on the charger and not long after he set it down he fell asleep.

***

“Hello darling, how’s your food?” Simon’s mother asked him as she took her place across the dining room table. 

“Amazing, as always. Your cooking never disappoints!” He’d said with a full face grin. After the whirlwind of emotions and events that had occurred this past weekend, Simon decided it'd be best if he just came home and spent some quality time with his mom. He loved coming home. It always felt as though his mother had a special  way of making all his worries disappear. 

He appreciated his father springing out the money to secure him and Sara dorms at Hillerska, but sometimes he preferred staying with his mother. He had everything he needed here. He didn’t want to argue with his father, so he just let him do this and thanked him for his kindness. Getting them in the dorms was the first big thing he’d done for them in a very long time. He just let his father have that little victory and just came home whenever he needed.

“Thank you love, how is school coming along?”

“Good. A little tough right now, overall good. Classes feel like they're never ending with homework and projects, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.” Simon replied.

“Well it seems to be that you have a good outlook on things. How is the rowing team coming along? Do you guys know when your next event is?”

“We don’t know an exact date yet, however we think there should be another next month. If we win that one we’ll qualify for regionals. That’s the one we’ll travel for. Regionals ”

“That’s great Simon. Make sure to let me know when everything is, so I can request off from work. I’ve been picking up extra shifts, and we can turn regionals into a whole little family vacation. If you’re up for it.” 

I smiled at my mom. The thought of a getaway was amazing. We hadn’t gone anywhere just to enjoy things and relax as a family since I was younger. “I love that.”

My mother and I carried on a conversation for a while. We continued talking about our future vacation plans and all the things we could do. It was just so nice to be here with her. Being home always brought me to peace. Eventually we ended up finishing dinner. I helped my mother clear the table and put away the leftovers. I washed the dirty dishes as Mom dried them and put them away. We took place in the living room. As we continued to chat, I reached for the tv remote. 

“What would you like to watch?” I said. Once the tv came to life, I noticed it was on a news channel.

“Anything’s fine with me dear.” Mom replied. 

I was about to change the channel when something caught my attention. Footage of a car wreck flashed across the screen. It was a terrible pile up with many vehicles involved. 

“Simon, you should change that.” Mom began.

“I know mom. It must be important if it made the news though.” I said.

“True enough, but don’t leave it on for too long. You know I don’t really care to watch stuff like that.”

“I won't, I just want to see what it’s about.”

“More in about tonight’s terrible crash. We’ve gotten updates about what caused the crash. It turns out the semi-truck involved lost control of his brakes. He couldn’t slow down in time to avoid the cars in front of him. This led to a pile up as several cars behind the truck did not see this coming in time and hit the truck as well”

“Simon sweetie, I really think you should go ahead and switch to something else. This is horrible.”

“I know Mom, I just want to know.”

“The truck was transporting nothing but gasoline, so upon impact of the two government cars in front of him, there was an immediate explosion. Four people were airlifted to the nearest hospital however everyone in the government vehicles died on the scene. This includes not only several Royal bodyguards but the entire remaining members of the Royal Family. It’s incredibly sad to think about. It’s been two years since the death of Prince Eric, as well as not even a week since Crown Prince Wilhelm took to social media announcing his self-disowning of the Crown, but now we are left with no one from the immediate family. It’s one of the worst days Sweden has seen-”

Simon shut the TV off. The silence that followed was heavy. His mother didn’t dare speak a word. Not that it would help Simon in any way right now. 

He should’ve listened. Why doesn’t he ever listen?

The lump in his throat was too thick to swallow. Simon kept trying to. He couldn’t help himself. His mind was on several planets away right now. He’d heard and seen alot of things this week. He had gotten way too drunk to handle. He practically made out with the grossest toilet he’d ever seen. He read Wilhelm’s coming out and resignation of sorts all in one post. Now here he was with the news that not only had Wilhelm been in a car wreck, but he was dead. 

He had so much life to live. He had too many things to finish. Too much world to see. Too many laughs to laugh, smiles to smile, cries to cry. As much as Simon hated the thought, too many other people to fall in love with. He will never fall in love and get to love shamelessly and fully. He will never start a family. He will never get to be prince, no matter how much he hated that. 

Simon’s mind was running rampant, but he started to reel in. 

Wilhelm won’t see college. 

He won’t graduate high school. 

He won’t be there for regionals, barely two months away. 

Wilhelm was gone. Wilhelm is gone. 

Simon didn’t realize it, but tears were streaming down his face. His breathing had become short and staggered. So short that he could barely catch it. It felt like he was starting to hyperventilate. Suddenly he couldn’t keep enough oxygen in his lungs and his chest began to sting. 

Despite the desperate calls of his mother being the only sound to fill the room, all he could hear was ringing. A high pitched ringing that wouldn’t stop. He tried to speak, but once again all he could hear was the ringing. Nothing else. Simon kept trying. Over and over again. He tried to shout out for his mother. For Sara. For Wilhelm. He could feel the sting in his throat from the yelling. He just wanted to hear himself, his mother, anything but this god damn ringing. Wilhelm. Wilhelm. He wanted to hear Wilhelm. Speak to him one more time. Look into his eyes as he held him. He wanted to be with him. He was stupid for ever breaking things off in the first place. So fucking stupid. All he did was rob himself of the last few years of his life, of his own happiness. 

“Simon, baby can you hear me?” His mother was desperate for a response. She had never seen Simon break down like this. It was to no avail. Simon was worlds away in his own grief. She quickly rushed to his side and wrapped her arms around him. Simon buried his face in his mothers shoulder and continued to sob. 

***

The early morning sun shone through the cracks in the curtains. Simon flipped over to get away from the light that hit directly on his face. He grabbed the closest thing to him and brought it to his chest. It was soft and squishy. Simon opened his eyes to get a good look at it. It was his childhood stuffed animal. Simon had slept with this toy for years. It was one of the last things his father bought him before him and his mother split.

Simon got a good look at it. It was a small tiger. The black stripes had faded beyond belief. There was a small tear at the tail where Simon used to swing the toy around. 

The first thing that registered when Simon woke up was the smell of pancakes. He realized he was still at his mother’s house. A yawn overtook Simon’s face and he just let in. Simon sat up, swinging his feet out of the bed. His eyes fell onto the fish tank across the room. Watching the bright colored fish dart past each other. He smiled. He was reminded of memories of him and Wilheim watching them and making up stories of what they were doing in there. 

Wilheim. As fast as the good memories came, they left. Thoughts of the crash resurfaced. The images were so clear in his mind it felt like he’d been there. Simon choked up a sob. He covered his mouth. He couldn’t even control it. It happened too fast for him to realize. Wilheim died last night. His Wilheim. Wilheim. Gone. Just gone. You’ll never see him again. You’ll never hear him again. He’ll never speak to you, call you, text you. Look at you. Nothing. 

Tears clouded his vision and the sobs took over his body. The more these thoughts flooded his mind the less he could comprehend past the pain ripping through his body. Simon’s legs collapsed beneath him and he fell to the ground. He didn’t want to alarm his mother, however he was a wreck right now. Simon cried and cried. He didn’t know what else to do. All he felt was grief and sadness. The love of his life had vanished so quickly. So unpredictably. He wished he could go back and rewrite their story. He would love him more. He would care for him more. Listen more. Try to understand him and see their situationship from his point of view. 

The more he cried the more selfish he felt. In a way he felt responsible for what happened. If only he would’ve listened to him. Maybe they would’ve been together last night enjoying the safety of each other in one of their dorms. The thought did damage. Terrible damage. He was crying so hard he couldn’t catch his breath. It felt like there wasn’t enough air in this room. He had to get out. He needed air. He needed space. It felt like the walls were closing in on him. Simon gathered all the strength he had to get off the floor. His legs were still shaky but at least he was up. He flung the door open and started running to the best of his ability. His mother was in the kitchen finishing breakfast. She attempted to call out for Simon but he rushed past her and out the front door. 

He didn’t know where to go but he felt like he couldn’t stop his legs now that they started to work. He ran down the street and the next one and the next one and the next. Houses and buildings were nothing but blurs as he kept pushing himself further and further away. He ignored the ache in his legs. He didn’t care about it right now. The wind on his face kept him going. He didn’t feel so trapped anymore and that’s all he cared about. He could breathe again. He could feel something other than the heartache that had been plaguing him since last night again. 

Simon started to slow down. The burning of his calves catching up to him. Eventually he came to a halt. He was breathing heavily and sweat poured off of him. He couldn’t recall a time when he’d run so fast for so long. Simon looked around him, taking in his surroundings. He was at a park across town at least 30 or 40 minutes away from his mother’s house. He began walking again, hoping to find a bench or table or anywhere to just rest after his trek. Just ahead of him he saw a picnic table. He found his place at the table. Simon put his head down on the table, taking deep breaths to soothe the sting of his lungs and the sharp prickling in his legs.

He didn’t know how long he’d been running. He’d lost all sense of time. He felt around his pockets for his phone, but came up empty handed. Guilt hit him like a ton of bricks. His mother was probably worried sick. He was never like this. Leaving so abruptly and in general just breaking down so badly. He needed to get home. 

Simon decided to try to make it back on foot. He wasn’t extremely familiar with the area, but he had been around a few times in his life. Before he attended Hillerska he had school friends that lived here. He had a vague memory of a few back roads that would send him in the right direction. After what Simon thought was at least fifteen minutes he found himself more familiar with the part of town he was in. If memory serves him correctly he’s not too far from his childhood best friend’s house. A few twists and turns later and he was approaching the house he’d spent some of his best days in. 

Simon knocked on the front door. He wasn’t completely sure if Elias or his family still lived here, but he figured it was worth a shot. A quick moment later he heard shuffling from inside the home. He took a step back from the door. He was met with the sight of his dear friend’s mother. Shock and surprise shone on her face, but happiness quickly replaced both of them. 

“Simmie, I have not seen you in ages! Come in, come in! Are you well? How are you? What are you doing these days?” She bombarded him with many questions. He didn’t know who to expect at the door, but the sight of her relieved his brief anxieties. “I’m okay Ma. Graduation is around the corner. I’m not into too much lately. Just school and I’m on the rowing team there.”

She hugged him as soon as the door was closed. “That’s wonderful Simmie! Are you studying hard? Oh my goddess how are your Mom and Sara? What are they up to? Gosh, It’s been too long really.” Simon laughed at her excitement. She was always a ray of sunshine. It was hard to feel down around her. “They’re fine. Good actually. Mom works at the hospital in town. Sara is good. She’s found good friends and enjoys school. She spends all her free time horse riding. Her favorite place to be is in the stables with her horses.”

Elias’ mother looked up at him, grinning from ear to ear. “That is so good to hear. It makes me happy. What brings you to this side of town Simmie? Your house is half an hour away right?” She questioned. 

SImon’s gaze dropped to the floor. He nervously rubbed the back of his neck. He should’ve anticipated this question. He tried to come up with something convincing. “I was going for a run. I’ve been working on endurance and just stopped paying attention I guess.” He chuckled awkwardly. She seemed to buy his story, so he kept going. “I left my phone at home, but didn’t go back for it ‘cause I didn’t think I’d be gone too long. I was hoping I could use your phone to call my mom to come get me.”

“Of course sweetheart. Let me grab it for you.” Without hesitation the older woman was searching the room for her cellphone. “Ah and here it is.”

Simon grabbed the phone graciously. He quickly dialed his mother’s number. The phone barely reached the first ring before she answered. “Yes, hello?”

“Hey mom. It’s Simon.”

“Oh Simon! I almost had a heart attack when you raced out. You scared me so bad. I tried to run after you but you were just so quick. Are you alright? Where are you now?” She exclaimed. Her words came out quickly and they rushed together. “I called Ayub after you left and he’s out looking for you now.”

“I’m okay mom. Just ran to clear my head. I left my phone in my room or I would’ve called you sooner. Sorry to worry you. Can you come get me? I’m at Elias’ family home. I’m calling you from his mother’s phone.”

Simon could hear her sigh of relief over the phone. “Thank the heavens you are okay. I was so so worried something was going to happen to you love. I will be there shortly. I’m going to call your friend and let him know you're safe.”

“Okay Mom. I love you. I will see you soon.” Simon hung up the phone and handed it back to Elias’ mother. She sat at the dining table across the room and motioned for him to join her. She struck up a conversation with him. She began informing him of everything he’s missed over the years. She filled him in on Elias and his current whereabouts. Simon learned his old friend ended up studying abroad in another country. He was content in this moment. The two just went back and forth detailing their lives out until Simon’s mother got there. 

The journey home was much faster than the run over and for that Simon was grateful. His mother did not question him on his previous behavior, another thing Simon was grateful for. Once they arrived home he rushed inside. He wanted to take a shower and get changed. 

Simon turned the knob noticing it was unlocked. “Mom, I think you forgot to lock the door.” 

“I thought I had, but I was also in a hurry to get to you.” She said. 

“I’m sorry Mom, I really didn’t mean to worry you. I’m not even sure what came ov-,” Simon stopped mid sentence as he turned into the house. 

He blinked and he blinked and he blinked, but it didn’t change the fact that Wilhelm was standing in his kitchen. His arms were wrapped tightly around himself. Any words Simon knew left his brain. He couldn’t fathom the scene playing in front of him. Surely this was not his Willhelm. Surely he was confused. This couldn’t be the same Willhelm that he’d loved and laughed with. The one he’d cried with, cried over, cried because of. This couldn’t be the one he’d just started mourning last night. The very same Willhelm that he’d barely braced himself to never see again. 

“Simon,” He started to speak but he didn’t say anymore. His voice was hoarse as if he’d been crying or screaming for hours. Willhelm ran to him. He threw his arms around him urgently. Simon let himself fall right into Willhelm’s arms. Simon was still in complete shock. He couldn't understand what was happening to him. This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t real. On repeat in his mind. It was the only thought in his head. He didn’t know how or why this was happening, but all he knew was he must be hallucinating his soulmate holding onto him for dear life. 

“Simon my mom,” Simon felt a wetness on his shoulder. “My dad,” As Willhelm tried to speak, his body shook on and off. “They’re dead Si.” He choked out. Simon still couldn’t find his words. He could feel the rapid drumming of his heart against his chest. His limbs grew weaker the longer the two stood together, wrapped around each other. 

“I was supposed to be with them. I blew up on Mom and screamed at her and stormed off. I was supposed to be in that car with them Si.” Willhelm barely made out the words between his sobs. He had never seen the bubbly boy so inconsolable in their relationship. His problems had always been bigger than Simon could imagine. Royal duties and an image to upkeep, but this was different. This was a much deeper than anything the two had taken on together. First his brother, his first best friend, the only one that understood him and cared about what he had to say. Now both of his parents in a single instant were gone. 

A trail of tears fell from Simon’s eyes despite his knowledge. He could feel the earth crumbling under Willhelm much like he’d experienced last night and just a few hours ago himself. He had no idea what losing your parents felt like, but he had experienced an unbearable sense of grief. 

“I��m so sorry WIlle. I'm so sorry.” It was all he could muster out, but it didn’t matter. Simon knew that. Willhelm continued sobbing and shaking. He didn’t have the energy for anything else. In the emotional chaos the two slowly ended up on the couch. Simon’s mother watched wordlessly. She had never been a part of a situation like this. She knew the boys were in two very different states of shock and anguish, but without any true way to help she just sat at the kitchen table waiting in case either of them needed anything. 

***

Simon woke up in a mountain of pillows and blankets. He was hot and sweaty and overall overwhelmed. His body was flushed with sweat and his clothes clung to his sweatier skin. He attempted to roll over and found himself stuck in place. When he looked over his shoulder he saw Willhelm curled up to his back. His face was buried into the top of his back. One arm underneath Simon’s neck and another wrapped around his waist. They’re legs were intertwined between the blanket mound. All of yesterday’s memories flooded back instantly. His breakdown, his run across town, coming home to see Willhelm, the two crying with each other until they passed out. 

Simon eased out of Willhelm’s grasp. He pulled away some of the blankets and began folding them. He turned behind him. In the kitchen his mother was still sat the kitchen table. She had fallen asleep there. She’d covered herself with a thick blanket. She had also taken one of the small couch cushions as a pillow. A pang of guilt struck him. She had to be so lost and clueless to the mess he was in.

Simon crossed through the small space to get to her. He placed a hand on her shoulder and shook gently. “Mama,” He continued shaking until he felt her stir. “Mama, go lay down. We’re fine. Get some decent rest.” His mother stretched his arms high above her. 

“Are you sure my love?” She asked in a sleepy whisper. “Yes. Thank you for being by our sides, but you need to rest.” She stood up and collect her pillow. Before she left for her room she grabbed Simon’s face and kissed his forehead. She held his face in her hands, cupping them at his cheeks. “I love you so much Simon. I will do anything for you. Never forget it.” Simon nodded. Without another word, she went to her room. 

Simon turned back towards Willhelm. He still slept peacefully behind him. He joined the boy back on the couch, only sitting on the edge. He caressed his face carefully. He let his fingertips drift along the surface of the paler boy’s face. He’d missed him. He’d missed him so so much. More than he’d ever even realized he did. He’d missed his smile. The way his hair fell so softly against his face. He’d missed the way his hands felt within his own and how his skin always felt so soft underneath his fingertips. The smell of him. The smell he couldn’t find anywhere else no matter how hard he searched. He had missed this boy so much. 

The weight on his heart was lifted. Simon was beyond lucky that the tragedy that had struck hadn’t taken his love away. He couldn’t stop thinking about how less than a day ago he didn’t know if he would ever be okay again. He had no idea how he was going to live on without Willhelm. In this moment at least he didn’t have to think that way. Willhelm was here with him. He was right in front of him. On his couch. In his home. 

Simon felt Willhelm’s body. He was just as sweaty as Simon was earlier. He didn’t want to disturb the boy, but he didn’t want him to be so uncomfortable either. “Wille,” He ran a hand through his hair, and kissed his forehead. “Wake up Wille.” He didn’t budge. Simon kept trying to wake him. “Wake up Willie. Wake up love bug.” Simon started tugging at his arms. After a little while Willhelm began to rise. His swollen eyes fluttered open. He blinked multiple times as his eyes adjusted to the morning sun. 

“What time is it?” Willhelm managed out in between a long yawn. Simon looked around for his phone. It was on the side table on the other side of the couch. He didn’t remember putting it there. His mother must have done it. He retrieved it off the charger and unlocked it. He had many missed calls and messages from his friends. Everyone had sent some variation of “are you okay, we’re worried about you.” He decided he would reply to those later. 

“Eight am.” Simon finally answered. Willhelm brought his knees up on the couch and wrapped his arms around his legs, nestling them to his chest. Simon could see reality cascading back to him. 

The two sat in silence for a moment. Neither of them knew what to say or even what came next. Willhelm had no idea what his future would hold now or what he would do with it. Simon wanted to ask, but he knew that asking would probably send Willhelm into a bad spiral right now. 

“I’m sorry Si.” Willhelm mustered. 

“What are you sorry for?” Simon inquired.

“Bombarding you last night, but I needed you.”

“I’m not mad at you for anything, and you don’t need to feel sorry. I’ve needed you too.”

“I didn’t know if you were gonna be home and when no one was here after I let myself in I was gonna leave. I’d been here for about 15 minutes and decided to go before someone called the cops on me and then you came in.”

“This doesn’t feel real honestly. I never thought I’d see you again.” Simon’s voice dropped to a whisper. He’d finally vocalized the thoughts that had taken over his brain. 

“My whole plan was to get to you.” Willhelm’s eyes dropped to the floor. Him and Simon couldn’t get their eyes off each other as the conversation began, but now Willhelm was losing confidence. 

“I only wanted you Si. I didn’t care about being King anymore if that meant I couldn’t have you.”

Simon felt tears building in his eyes. He was tired of crying. He couldn’t help them though. Willhelm had just confirmed one of his nagging suspicions. Deep in his heart he knew that Willhelm had given up the crown for him. He felt so selfish for thinking it the first time it came to mind, but he just knew that Willhelm would do something like this. He had hoped for his sake he was wrong. He hoped he wouldn’t give up the only life he knew just for him. 

“But why Wille? You know I would never have asked that of you.”

“You didn’t have to.  I told you I’d do whatever it took to be with you and I meant it. You are the single most important person to me. It ate away at me everyday that you felt so shameful of our relationship and that I wasn’t doing all I could to prove my love for you, so I made the biggest move I could possibly make to show you I was serious.” Willhelm reached for Simon’s hands. He took both of them in his own and held onto them tightly. As if he was falling and he was desperate for him to hold on to him. “You deserved more. You deserve more, and I hope you can let me begin to make it up to you. If you don’t I can understand that. I can understand if you’ve moved on or just want to be without me. I would totally understand if you felt that way. Tell me no and I will leave you alone.”

Simon thought back to the day he broke everything off with Willhelm. 

“If you loved me I wouldn’t feel like this Wille. If you loved me like you say you do then I wouldn’t have to lie about our relationship to the whole world.”

He was so broken. He felt like his life was crumbling away with every word he spoke. Everything he had known, the life and the boy he’d grown so comfortable with was falling apart at his own hands. 

“I want someone to love me unconditionally and wholeheartedly and not worry about the consequences. They love me and they would stop at nothing or no one to love me. And I know that you can’t do that.” 

Simon remembered the pure anguish in Willhelm’s eyes. The brokenness of his spirit. He felt like he was looking into a mirror because everything he saw in Willhelm, he felt in himself a hundred times over. That was the last time they spoke before yesterday and here they were all these months later. The feelings he’d felt for him hadn’t left. Simon had spent everyday wishing and begging to himself for Willhelm to come back to him. He felt stupid every time he did it, but he did it anyway. All he wanted was a do over. A fresh slate to love each other how they both wanted and needed.

“Wille, all I’ve ever wanted is you. I want to spend every minute of every day with you.”

“So is that a yes, you’ll let me make it up to you?” A pink blush took over Willhelm’s face as he popped the question. 

Simon had let a couple of tears fall as he was thinking, but Willhelm’s obliviousness made him laugh. 

“Of course that’s a yes.” Willhelm smiled. A true, goofy smile spanning from ear to ear. “Thank god.” He mumbled, lounging straight into Simon’s arms. He’d thrown his arms around Simon’s neck, enveloping him into a hug. Simon instinctively did the same. 

“I love you Wille.” Simon said into the crook of his neck.

“I have always loved you and I always will. I would crawl to the end of the earth for you.”

“I know.”

[writerdream22]

requested by: no one, but I sincerely hope you like this anyways ✨🌻💛

pairings: Billy Hargrove x Harrington!reader, Steve Harrington x sister!reader, Dustin Henderson x Harrington!reader, Max Mayfield x Harrington!reader etc.

warnings: a few curse words and the mentioning of physical violence.

feedbacks are always appreciated!

“Steve, wait!” you exclaimed, before taking your own nailed bat in your hands. “Kids, stay here, all right? And keep away from the windows!” you whispered, to which the kids nodded. With that, you sat down and waited for your brother to walk back in the Byers house.

You were ready to defend the kids with all the strength you possessed. You loved them with all your heart. However— seeing them look through the window while you weren't checking on them made you curse out loud “For fuck's sake, you guys!”.

“Shit! Did he see us?” Dustin questioned, to which you responded “Of course he did! Now let's get to the kitchen and stay behind me, all right? I will bat the shit out of this son of a gun”.

After a few seconds, the door exploded open and Billy burst inside. He started scanning his surroundings, and you tried to keep calm as his gaze fixed onto the kids. Suddenly, Lucas put himself in front of everyone, as to protect Max and everyone else; but how could he, when he didn't have anything to defend himself with? You mentally cursed for what seemed like the thousandth time in a couple of hours.

“Well, well, well... if it isn't Lucas Sinclair. What a surprise.” Billy said, moving towards us. Then, he addressed Max by saying “I thought I told you to stay away from him, Max —”.

“Billy, go away —” the girl interjected, clearly scared by her stepbrother, who angrily stated “You disobeyed me. And you know what happens when you disobey me— I break things”

Max shouted at Billy, as to try to stop him from doing the worst, and that's when I decided to step in. I dropped my bat to the ground, then walked towards him and punched him straight in the face, making him fall down.

“Don't you ever touch my children ever again.” I angrily said, bracing for the older boy's reaction “You get it, Hargrove?” he nodded, and wiped the blood of his nose. “If you take a step further, I will make your life a living hell, just like you did with Max's. I won't be as nice as I was before. Control your anger or you’ll have me to worry about.” I stated.

“Ooh, the brave y/n Harrington! You think you're so mighty, uh?” Billy said, in a scaringly joking manner “Just a few months ago, you were drooling over me just like every other girl! You think you were special? Guess what, you were not!”

“You're delusional Billy” I sighed, shaking my head “I may have liked you in the past, but not now. I have more important things to think about— and besides, you're a bad kisser”.

After I said that, he tried to punch me but I dodged him easily “Man, I'm a boxer. Don't you remember? To me, you're just a sissy who throws tantrums”. Billy tried to punch me, but to no avail, and I kicked him in the stomach.

“You're dead, Harrington!” he exclaimed, before he was taken by his shoulder by Steve, who responded “No. You are.”

That's when hell broke loose.

I couldn't separate the two, but as the two boys moved to the living room Max managed to fill up a syringe with morphine and plunged it into Billy's neck. He ripped the needle out of his neck, and stared at it in cofusion.

“... The hell is this?” he mumbled, before getting up and staggering towards Max. “You little shit—” he seethed “What did you do?? What did yo -- y -- o -- ” his words slurred as his knees visibly buckled, and he fell to the ground.

Even though Billy was obviously losing consciousness, it was clear that Max wasn't over yet.

[voraciousvore]

The Half-Blood Giant (38/51)

***Contains soft, safe, unwilling vore***

Chapter 38: Unhealthy Obsession

Hannah was worried. Hector was supposed to meet her after school, like he always did, but he never showed up. She couldn’t locate him in the cafeteria, or anywhere else for that matter, nor would he answer his phone. Hector wasn’t the type to ignore her or play petty games, even if she had upset him for some inscrutable reason. She sensed, deep down, that something was wrong. When she biked over to the boy’s dormitory on the other side of campus, he wasn’t there either. None of the boys had seen him since class ended. 

Hannah didn’t sleep well that night. She kept checking her phone periodically, hoping for a text or call. There was nothing. She decided, if he didn’t show up for breakfast tomorrow morning, she would go straight to Principal Henderson and report him missing. She couldn’t think of any other place he would be. If he had gone home, or there had been some sort of emergency, she figured he would’ve at least contacted her to let her know what happened.  

The morning came, and she woke up cranky and groggy. She rolled out of bed, donned her uniform, and packed up her school supplies in her bag. Labored with fatigue, Hannah pulled her bike from the rack outside and crawled on, then slowly pedaled forward. She hardly paid any attention to her surroundings as she went into autopilot, thinking about her beloved. She was entirely unaware of the sinister colossus stalking her, following her intoxicating scent, ready to strike. 

The world unexpectedly went dark as a shadow blocked out the light of the rising sun. Hannah almost toppled off her bike as she halted in place and the ground swooped away below her. The rapid ascension into the sky was dizzying; she held onto her handlebars with a death grip, her knuckles white from tension. Her sides were pinched by the enormous tips of two giant fingers and she was forcibly ripped from her bike, her strength no match for the giant who grabbed her. She gasped from the pressure on her torso, almost breathless. She plopped into the landscape of a massive hand and her bike was scooped up into the fingers of the other hand, disappearing from her sight. 

Hannah, panting for breath, slowly turned around to face the giant who snatched her. Her worst fears were confirmed when she saw Hunter’s mountainous visage leering down at her. He grinned, revealing a wall of blocky white teeth. Hannah quivered and scooted back into the arch of his fingers, but she had nowhere to go. 

“Hi there,” Hunter rumbled, releasing a puff of warm breath over her that ruffled her hair.��

“W-what do you want?” Hannah stammered. “Make it quick.” 

Hunter regarded her for a long, uncomfortable moment without speaking. He brushed her tenderly with his thumb, making her flinch. “Hector wanted me to pass on a message,” he lied. Hannah’s demeanor changed on a dime as she jerked to attention with the surprising turn of events. “He said he’d meet you at the cafeteria. I’ll take you there.” 

“No need, I can bike there myself,” Hannah asserted, glancing around the platform of skin carrying her. Her bike was nowhere to be seen. 

“No. I’ll take you,” Hunter responded. He did not give her a choice. She relented, realizing she had no power in the situation. She didn’t want to raise a fuss and make the monster of a man angry. The sooner she was conveyed to Hector, the safer she’d feel, and the sooner she could get away from Hunter. 

“Hey, Hannah?” She didn’t want to talk to him, but being held mere feet from his expansive countenance, she couldn’t exactly ignore him. 

“What is it?” she asked listlessly, drooping into the curve of his fingers. His strides rocked her back and forth in his hand like a cradle. 

“Um...” A flicker of anxiety flickered across the giant’s features, barely distinguishable if not for the fact that he was so large. “I was just wondering... theoretically... if Hector wasn’t around anymore, would you ever consider... um... like... hanging out with me?” 

Hannah wasn’t sure how to answer without hurting his feelings, but she thought the question odd. “Hector isn’t going anywhere, so there’s no use speculating about a fictional scenario,” she reasoned, maintaining a neutral tone. 

“Ah.” Hunter seemed to deflate a bit, but Hannah was past the point of feeling empathy for him. As long as he didn’t hurt or threaten her, she didn’t particularly care about his volatile feelings. She just wanted him to be gone. 

Without warning, Hunter lifted his hand to his chest and dumped Hannah into his breast pocket. She tumbled down his palm into the pouch of soft fabric with a yelp. His shirt was stretched taut against the protruding muscles of his pectorals, squeezing Hannah slightly. 

“Hey!” she cried out, but he covered his pocket with his hand, squishing her softly with fingers as thick as tree trunks. Hannah went quiet as she recognized how insignificant she was, how easily he could smash her like an insect. His formidable mass was looming all around her, surrounding her. She suppressed her protests, hoping that she’d be reunited with her human lover soon. She just had to hold out a little longer. 

Hunter entered the cafeteria and got in line for his food. Hannah heard the loud cadence of voices and familiar sounds of the lunchroom and struggled to climb up the inside of the pocket. She peeked her head out of the top, searching for Hector. Hunter, perceiving her movements, shoved her back down with his finger. She cursed at him in response, but her small voice was lost in the roar of giant voices from her much larger peers. Hunter smirked as he collected his food. He grabbed himself a modest breakfast, much less than usual. His belly was still digesting the girl from this morning. 

He sat down in his usual secluded spot, where he could shield Hannah with his huge body and nobody would be able to see her. He reached into his pocket with his fingers, encircling the reluctant girl, and set her on the table, close to him in front of his tray. He placed his arms on either side of her like barriers so she couldn’t run away. Hannah shook with agitation as she gazed at the towering behemoth above her. 

“A-aren’t you going to take me to Hector?” she squeaked. 

“That can wait a moment,” Hunter boomed, waving his hand dismissively. He leaned down over Hannah, hunching his shoulders a bit and bringing his face in so he could be nearer to her. He brought his hands together and cupped them around her reverently. As he collapsed around her, Hannah lost her nerve and her legs buckled underneath her as if they had turned into globs of gelatin. 

“Hunter, you’re scaring me,” she whined. “Please, just let me see Hector.” 

“No.” The authoritarian word bludgeoned her harshly. She sank further under the giant’s impossible gravity. 

“W-what do you want from m-me? L-let’s get this over with already so I can go,” Hannah whimpered. Her eyes began to well up with tears. 

“I want you,” Hunter confessed, his deep voice resounding around her. “Your whole being, in your entirety. Forget Hector. Be with me instead.” 

Hannah was so shocked, she didn’t respond right away and just gaped at the giant dumbly. She scrambled to find words and choked out, “N-never!” 

Hunter’s green eyes flashed with baleful rage, and Hannah flinched at the terrifying sight. “So that’s how it’s going to be,” he snarled, baring his teeth. “Fine. I’ll give you some time to think it over. Perhaps you’ll come around.” Hannah didn’t get a chance to ponder the significance of his words before she was hoisted up by the back of her shirt. She squealed with fright as she was plopped into a thick, creamy substance. By the smell and taste, she realized with disgust that she was bathing in yogurt. 

Hunter grabbed a spoon and gleefully stirred her around in the yogurt, humming to himself. Hannah flailed and floundered, trying to grab the edges of the cup to pull herself out, but Hunter didn’t give her the chance. It all happened so fast, Hannah didn’t fully comprehend why Hunter would cover her in yogurt, until the plastic spoon dipped beneath her and lifted her out. Hannah fit neatly into the curved end, the perfect size for a bite of food. Horror exploded inside her as she found herself facing a titanic pair of lips. 

“No, Hunter, you wouldn’t...” Hannah gasped, appalled. She refused to believe it. He couldn’t possibly do... what she was thinking he was about to do. The lips turned up into a mocking grin, and separated to reveal wet, white teeth and ominous darkness beyond. Hunter’s gigantic tongue emerged, and the fleshy appendage dragged across her yogurt-covered body, from her toes to her forehead. Hannah recoiled and shrieked, throwing up her hands reflexively to protect herself. She felt the slimy bumps of his oversized taste buds slide across her palms. She was repulsed as a thick layer of saliva covered her body. 

“Mmmmmm,” Hunter hummed, licking his lips hungrily. “You taste even better than you smell. Just like a fresh-picked blueberry.” Hannah was speechless with raw terror. She froze up. She had no idea what to do, had no way to escape when she was hovering a deadly distance above the table. She didn’t have to do anything but be a delectable snack, however, as the giant mouth yawned open in front of her. She caught a glimpse of a fortress of huge teeth, a gaping gullet, and a mass of tongue and red flesh before the whole display encompassed her on all sides. The spoon slid out from beneath her, disappeared into the fresh air of freedom outside before the colossal jaws closed around her, sealing her fate.  

Hannah screamed, but nobody could hear her except the giant who was eating her. Oh God. He was eating her! She clawed at her fleshy, wet, bony prison and fought against the overwhelming power of the tongue as it flung her around and tasted her. She slammed against the molars, the roof of the mouth, the soft hot tissue beneath the tongue, as it rolled over her, toyed with her, smothered her. The yogurt dissolved off her body and she was soaked in filthy slobber instead. Her struggles were futile; she was helpless against the desires of the hungry mouth. 

Hunter savored her for a long time before he finally decided it was time to swallow her. Hannah cried out as the tongue beneath her reared up, and she slid down the slippery surface headfirst like a slide, toward the dark void of the gullet. She scrambled to grab something, anything, to halt her descent, but the mouth was streamlined for food, designed for her to be consumed. She even tried to grab his uvula, but it was too high above her to reach. Her head dropped down into the abyss of the throat, and the muscles crushed around her, forcing her down in a rippling wave. 

Hannah couldn’t move much as she strained against the unbearable pressure of the throat dragging her down. As she sank into the giant’s chest, his heartbeat banged loudly in her ears, the vibrations coursing through her entire frame. She could hear a tremendous amount of air swelling in his lungs, pressing into the flesh around her, before racing out with every exhale. She plummeted further, deeper into the giant’s core, farther away from freedom. She was done for. A heavy dread settled into her as she realized the terrible, agonizing end that faced her, her ultimate destination: the stomach. 

Her face was shoved into a ring of muscle, and she was forced through with a revolted grimace. She plunged into the giant’s stomach and splashed into a boiling pool of rancid fluids. Hyped up on adrenaline, she howled and thrashed, pounding the throbbing walls desperately. Her tiny fists and feet bounced harmlessly off the folds of stomach lining, failing to make the slightest dent. The stomach shifted around her, and she slipped and fell into a heap, sobbing. She hoped her inevitable death wouldn’t be too excruciating.  

A foreign object that was firm and solid bumped into her as it stirred in the acid. Hannah hesitantly touched it with her fingers in the pitch-black darkness, trying to distinguish what it was. It was long and hard, about half the length of her leg, with a big ball on the end sticking out at an angle. Hannah abruptly recognized the object with an abhorrence that made her physically ill and threw it away from her. It was a bone—a human femur. She wasn’t the first person that Hunter had ingested. She was swimming alongside the remains of at least one other half-digested human. Who else did he eat? Hannah didn’t ruminate much on the question in her panic, focusing instead on her immediate predicament. 

“Spare me, Hunter, please!” she screamed. She had no idea if he would hear her, or deign to respond, but to her surprise he actually answered. 

“Be quiet in there,” his bass voice resounded around her. “And maybe then I’ll let you out.” He paused before continuing, “I won’t digest you. I’ve cast a magic spell over you, to protect you. You’re precious to me, after all.” The stomach rumbled and groaned, as if complaining about being denied its prey. 

“Then why? Why did you eat me?” Hannah cried. 

“Because you’re mine now.” Despite the infernal heat, Hannah felt a cold chill at his words, uttered with such supercilious confidence. “I’ll do whatever I want with you. Protest, and I’ll kill you and Hector.” Hannah covered her mouth with horror. She didn’t want Hunter going after Hector; she’d do anything to protect him, even if that meant sacrificing herself. Her will to resist drained out of her and she slumped dejectedly into a squishy wall. She didn’t bother to get up, or yell. She realized how futile her efforts would be, when she was already eaten. 

The digestive organ churned and bubbled and grumbled noisily. She could hear the consistent rhythm of Hunter’s throbbing heart and lungs. She was sickened when bones, leftover clothing, and ambiguous soft chunks bobbing around in the gastric fluids collided with her. As Hunter finished eating his breakfast, mushy food squelched down through the esophageal opening above and splattered into the gurgling cavern. Hannah cringed and crawled around inside, trying to avoid the slop. She cried pitifully. She was in an unimaginable hell. 

Hunter glanced around the lunchroom, to make sure nobody had witnessed him devouring his classmate. Not a soul had noticed, the ignorant fools. He turned back to his breakfast and smiled to himself. Hannah tasted even better than he dared to imagine in his most honeyed fantasies. He could feel her small, comforting weight settled in his belly. He loved having her inside him. He wanted to keep her forever. He stroked his belly lovingly, kneading his fingers into the skin. He felt a mild guilt about what he did—eating her against her will and lying about Hector—but the emotion was superseded by how right he felt to have her within, how whole and alive and content he was. For once, he could even believe he was happy. 

Chapter 39

Chapter 1

[gallawitchxx]

ficlet tuesday: birthday edition 🥳

today is a most blessed day, the birthday of my sweet anna of @rereadanon, who has never failed to fill up my prompt cup & is a constant source of joy & inspiration. she has also planned the weddings of most of the au boy dolls around these parts, which is delightful. her tropes were slow burn + dom/sub undertones & well, they definitely become overtones, but i did my best!

enjoy 1.4k words of a quickie au for my muse on her birthday below or here on ao3!

- - - - -

The first time Ian Gallagher laid eyes on Mickey Milkovich, he was waiting to meet with his parole officer for the first time since he’d been released. He had no priors and a Bipolar diagnosis, and yet they gave him three years for blowing up a van. Something about endangering lives, and setting a precedent. 

He was out in two for good behavior.

Milkovich was the only other person in the waiting room. He was slouched in a chair, picking at the fraying threads surrounding a rip in the knee of his jeans, his bottom lip pulled tight between his teeth. The energy between the four dingy walls of the office was fraught—even the receptionist had snapped at someone over the phone—and as Ian’s eyes traversed from tattooed knuckles to cut arms lightly dusted with hair, up towards piercing blue eyes and ink-black hair, an extra jolt of electricity shot through him.

It felt both dangerous and incredible.

“Ey,” a voice said, breaking Ian from his reveries. 

Shit, Ian thought, his head snapping towards the stained ceiling. He’d been caught staring, in just about the worst place you could get caught staring—besides prison, which he’d already survived—and by a guy who looks like he would ruin his face before he’d ever let Ian bend him over and ruin him for anyone else.

“You like what you see?”

Ian exhaled, bringing his gaze back down to his fellow parolee, who’s eyebrows were cocked high up on his forehead, steam practically pouring from his ears.

“I wasn’t…“ he stammered. “I mean, I don’t—”

“You don’t like what you see?”

“No, that’s not what—Sorry, I just—“

“Milkovich!” bellowed the gruff receptionist. “You’re up.”

Thank fuck.

Milkovich slapped his hands against his thick thighs before standing, and Ian looked away again, trying to keep the desire to scratch, and bite, and lick, and soothe at bay. 

“Too bad,” Milkovich said, his scent of cigarettes and soap wafting egregiously into Ian’s space, and filling his mouth with spit. “I like what I see. Kinda wish I’d gotten to see you in cuffs, big guy.”

He was through the door and into the belly of the office before Ian’s brain came back online.

- - - - - 

The second time he saw Milkovich, he hadn’t even made it into the building, stopped dead in his tracks by the sight of smoke curling around plump, pink lips. It was enough to warm his frostbitten fingers, heat spreading from his dick through the pockets of his bright orange-lined coat.

Milkovich was bundled up tight in an oversized coat, a black beanie, and fingerless gloves, which hid his ink, but still allowed him to cradle a cigarette tenderly between his digits. 

Ian wanted to unwrap him like a fucking present.

“Staring again, Gallagher.”

Ian short-circuited. “How did you—Have we—“

“Christ, do you ever finish a sentence?” Milkovich huffed, taking another drag.

“Yes,” Ian answered with finality.

Milkovich smirked, scratching his nose with the tip of his thumb as if to hide his growing smile.

“We got the same PO. Seaver? Saw your file on the desk.”

“Oh.”

“Arson, huh? Kinda sexy.”

Oh. 

Ian had thought he’d imagined it before—how overtly this hot, brash criminal had been flirting with him. But now it was undeniable, and that made Ian fucking weak. He wanted to get this guy on his knees. See how he would respond to a little authority; figure out if he’d get bratty or willingly submit.

Worse, Ian kind of wanted to feel how he’d respond to it, too. Wanted to know what would happen if Milkovich were the one barking orders, telling him what to do, encouraging him to keep going, don’t stop, open up…

But then the guy was finishing off his smoke, pinching the cherry from the tip and stubbing it out with the toe of his boot. He chucked the butt into a nearby trash can, and opened the door to the office, either oblivious to Ian’s gaped expression or delighted by it—a master chess player who’s just a few moves from victory.

“You comin’ in, hot shot?”

Ian cleared his throat and followed.

- - - - - 

Ian has lost count of how many times he’s seen Mickey. 

Mickey, the supernova that had blasted his life wide open. 

Mickey, the wildfire that had chosen him, sure from day dot with certainty that perked his cock right up and screwed with his other head too.

Mickey, the hurricane that had felt familiar like his past, that had ripped his way into his present, and was  now barreling straight into his fucking future. 

Even now, as Ian’s tied to the headboard with some fancy silk scarves that he’d splurged on—neither one of them actually interested in being cuffed outside of a law enforcement setting—he can’t take his eyes off the man in front of him, who’s grinning vulpine and holding a remote control between fingers that had immediately stolen his attention, and have since been in his mouth, his ass, and wrapped around his dick, his throat, and his heart.

“Look fucking good like this,” Mickey says, his baby blues roaming with heated pleasure. “Bet you’ll look even better when—“

His thumb pushes a button that has Ian vibrating from the inside. He squeezes his eyes shut, his mouth falling slack with a whine that has Mickey chuckling.

“Yeah,” he groans. Pleased. “I was right.”

They don’t always need to play like this, but they’d be lying if they said it hadn’t provided some of their favorite orgasms, the two of them riling each other up, pushing, and pulling, and teasing, and commanding until they both fall the fuck apart.

They’d earned it: this comfort, this trust. For as quickly as they’d fallen into the sack—four meetings at Seaver’s office enough to have them jacking each other off in an alleyway near the L train station—the emotional aspects of their relationship had been a trudge. Two Southside felons with a slew of daddy issues didn’t provide the firmest of foundations for commitment. But they’ve made it work. They’ve been bold and brave, and when necessary, they’ve allowed for their wild physical connection to keep them afloat.

The court order to stay inside the city limits helped too.

“Mick,” Ian mewls, his prostrate almost numb against the pulsating plug.

“What’s that, tough guy? You want more?”

A few more clicks of the toy and Ian’s about to explode all over himself and the bed. But he also knows what would happen if he were to do that. 

Disobey. 

So he grits his teeth and lets his gaze go fuzzy over the light trail of hair that leads to Mickey’s thick, stiff cock. God, he wants to taste him, his tongue almost reaching for his length as his own dick dribbles against his stomach.

Mickey saunters over to the bed and climbs on, tossing the remote to the side.

“Goddamn Gallagher, look at you,” Mickey praises, doing absolutely nothing to help Ian come back from the ledge he’s so precariously teetering over. “Think you’ve been good enough for me to ride this monster?” he asks, running a finger up Ian’s reddened hard-on. 

Ian nods, reeking of desperation, barely able to squeak out a, “yes.”

“What was that?” Mickey asks, gripping him at the base.

Ian sighs with relief and tries again, finding his voice. “Yes, sir.”

It’s Mickey’s turn to nod, his other hand disappearing behind him to remove the plug he’d been wearing all night; the bulbous bung keeping Ian’s afternoon release warm inside of him. His eyebrows pinch as he pulls it from his body, throwing it towards the abandoned remote. Then, he straddles a quivering Ian and lines them both up, smiling lazily as the head of Ian’s cock pushes at his loose rim.

“Hold on tight,” he instructs, sinking down with practiced ease. Taking what’s his.

Ian knows what he means, understands that he’s both warning him about the wild pace he’s about to set, and alluding to the fact that Ian can’t go anywhere if he tried, but it’s more than that too. 

Even without the directive, Ian doesn’t plan on letting go any time soon.

[skepticalfrogcat]

This fic is Part 2 to this fic, which I do recommend reading first but it isn't REALLY necessary. Just be prepared to be a little confused about a couple of minor details if you don't feel like reading a whole other oneshot first.

(This is dedicated to @lovehugsandcandy who gave me the motivation to write this, this is a gift for both of us)

Relationship: Finch Parnassus (MC) x Aerin Valleros

Warnings: Nothing major, except some very minor and very brief violence and the fact that this fic doesn't have a particularly happy ending.

Word Count: 4,297

Summary: Following Finch's discussion with Nia, he makes a difficult decision with some painful consequences.

~~~

In the days that followed, Finch found himself with a lot to think about. He thought he did a rather good job of hiding it, and of course he tried not to think of the particularly difficult things much at all. But every so often - perhaps as Mal cracked a joke over a round at the tavern, or Kade went on about some new book he'd read - Finch would catch Nia giving him very pensive looks. He wished she wouldn't. Not only because it felt at times like her hazel eyes were boring into the back of his head, but also because his worst fear was that someone would notice and ask him why.

He wasn't prepared to divulge any of the secrets of the night Nia had visited him, and - thank the Gods - Nia didn't seem to be either. As far as he knew, she had kept her promise to him. He hadn't expected anything different, she was probably the last person he'd expect to ever break a promise. He'd kept his promise to her, too. Most of what he'd been thinking about lately, aside from other, less shareable thoughts, had been what he was going to do next.

It was nearly impossible to decide. At least out of all of the hard things he'd done while he and his friends were searching for the onyx shards, he hadn't had to make very many decisions himself. The quest probably would've gone much worse if he had. In this situation, though, it did seem like the best choice to rip off the bandage. He'd deliberated on it for a while, but at the moment it really just seemed like letting his thoughts and feelings lie would only be torturous for him. He had to go, or else he'd never be able to move forward. He'd just be haunted by all the ‘what if's and ‘if only's. He just had to get closure.

But he needed to prepare first. If he'd learned anything from - well, from everything, it would be that it was always best to enter a situation knowing as much as you could about what you were getting into. He knew he'd have to ask someone about visiting. However, he also wanted to keep the reasons behind his visit close to his chest. Those two things combined had led to what he'd hoped was a fairly unsuspicious conversation with a soldier who was often stationed nearby the cells.

He'd made some small talk first, mostly about other goings on in the kingdom, because he knew that approaching immediately with the question he wanted to ask would set off alarms. But when he'd started to feel like he'd been there long enough, he had finally gotten to his point.

~~~

“What are the protections like, when someone goes down to visit a prisoner?” he asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall in a way he hoped read as casual. “I just know that some of my friends might've been going, and I think it's about time I go for a visit myself. What should I expect?”

“I'm sure we could arrange that for you. We take minimal risks while allowing visitors to the prisoners,” the guard responded. “All visitors are accompanied by a varying number of guards determined by both importance, and how dangerous the prisoner they're visiting is. We don't even let visitors enter the cells most of the time, save for certain circumstances. I'm assuming you're speaking of paying a visit to the traitor prince, meaning you'd likely be given three guards, and you would not be allowed into the cell.”

Finch nodded along, cataloging all of that new information into his brain. He couldn't help thinking that deciding how many guards to give someone based on how important they were was a bit unsavory. It was like ranking people by how much it would matter if they died. Hearing Aerin referred to as the ‘traitor prince’ also put a bad taste in his mouth, even though he knew it was objectively true.

“Along with that, we also ensure that none of our prisoners are in possession of weapons, and we don't allow any visitors to bring weapons into the cells in order to prevent injury.” The guard seemed very pleased with herself as she bragged about the security measures of the prison.

“I don't usually carry my weapons on me anyway, but you wouldn't have to worry about me hurting anyone,” he laughed, finding the idea a bit absurd.

“Oh, no, we're confident that someone like you won't engage in any violent behavior,” the guard clarified. She fiddled with the key ring around her belt as she spoke. “We wouldn't allow you to carry any weapons because we want to make sure he won't hurt you. But you don't have to worry about that, since you won't have to go into the cell.”

Suddenly, any ounce of humor left the situation. He hadn't even considered the possibility that Aerin might try to hurt him while he was there. It hadn't even crossed his mind. Now that he was thinking about it, it seemed like an oversight on his part. But the fact that his mind hadn't even registered the idea of it brought back that all-too-familiar shame.

“That sounds reasonable,” he smiled politely, putting on a pleasant facade even when he wanted nothing more than to shake the guard in front of him and tell her she knew nothing about Aerin. “I'll let you know when I decide to go, then. I haven't settled on a time yet.”

“Alright. Have a nice afternoon, Hero of Whitetower. I'll be looking forward to your return.”

~~~

That conversation had happened three days ago, but Finch hadn't gone back to meet with that soldier. Something about the whole procedure of it hadn't felt right to him. It was much more strict than he'd anticipated, although he supposed it made sense when it came to visiting a prison cell. Still, he knew that having so many guards with him would prevent him from having the conversation he wanted to have. He couldn't be accompanied.

Now, he was leaving his room in the dead of night to go do something he absolutely shouldn't have been doing. He shut his door carefully behind him, not wanting to alert anyone of what he was doing. The only reason he was going at night was because he knew there wouldn't be quite so many people wandering the halls of the castle. He didn't want to have to explain his way past dozens of guards. If he went at night, he'd only have to sneak his way past a few of them. He'd even dressed himself in dark colors to make it easier to merge with the shadows.

The journey to the dungeon was rather short, and he didn't run into any obstacles aside from a few sleep deprived guards taking the night shift as he got close to the entrance. It seemed as though the majority of the prisoners they had in the cells weren't considered particularly ‘high-value’, so they weren't as concerned about guarding them. There was only a single guard stationed by one of the cells in the long block. It wasn't difficult to determine who that cell belonged to.

Before his conscience (and arguably his common sense) could get a hold of him, he began inching his way further into the hall. Finch silently thanked Mal for sharing his wisdom as he neared the guard, still unnoticed. Then, like a snake lashing out for a bite, he caught the guard in a chokehold and placed a hand firmly over their mouth so they couldn't call out and alert the other guards. He applied even pressure until he felt the guard slump in his arms. As he placed the guard's limp body on the ground, it caught up to him that he was doing all of this just to see Aerin on his own terms. That was a troublesome thought to have. But before he could dwell on it, a quiet voice interrupted him.

“Who's there?” Finch's heart jumped into his throat. He would've known that voice anywhere. Memories crashed into his brain like a brick wall. Memories of the Deadwood, and drakna, and sitting by a lake. Of a wicked sword, and a killing blow, and a near escape. But, most prominently, of dark hair, and bright, curious eyes, and lips on his that he so desperately wanted to forget.

“I know someone's there, I heard you,” Aerin continued after what must've been at least a minute of silence.

After a moment more, Finch responded. “You weren't supposed to.”

Another stretch of silence followed. He imagined Aerin was going through something very similar to what he just had. Or perhaps he simply hoped so. “...Finch?”

Finally, Finch stepped in front of the door, looking in through the small, barred window. He pulled back the hood he'd been concealing his face with. “I wasn't going to come,” he admitted into the darkness. He couldn't see Aerin through the shadows of the cell. That made it easier, in a way. “But I was told that I should.”

“So that's it, then?” Aerin questioned, as if he was expecting more. Maybe he had the right to. “You chose to come here in the dead of night, completely unaccompanied by guards, just because someone told you to? That doesn't sound like something you would do.”

“I guess neither of us have really been acting like ourselves, then,” Finch pointed out. He heard Aerin laugh, and had to close his eyes in order to process the swell of overlapping emotions that came with it.

“You sound really sure about that. Sure that you know what it means for me to be ‘acting like myself’, I mean.” That reminder was a harsh blow. There was the Aerin he'd met in the Deadwood and the Aerin who had killed his brother in cold blood and kidnapped Nia, and Finch didn't know which Aerin was the real one. It very well could've been this one. It probably was. “Still, I don't believe someone telling you to is the only reason why you came here.”

“And what makes you think you know me well enough to decide that for me?”

“Because if I were out there and you were in here, I know why I'd be coming to see you,” Aerin answered matter-of-factly. “Now, are you going to stay out there, or are you going to come in so we can actually talk?”

That gave Finch pause. He glanced to his left, at the still unconscious guard. They had a key ring on their belt, much like the other guard Finch had spoken to. He could only assume Aerin knew the keys were there. But Finch hadn't planned on entering the cell at all, his plan had always been to stay on the other side of the door, to get it over with quickly. He wasn't as sure of that now. It was a risk, he knew that; Nia probably hadn't actually entered the cell, no matter how many times she'd visited. He'd been so sure that Aerin wouldn't hurt him, but how could he be? It wasn't as though Aerin had never done anything unexpected in the past.

But Aerin was right: how were they ever supposed to have a real conversation if they couldn't even see each other? Finch had thought the separation would help things stay impersonal, but that hadn't worked. It still felt personal, it just also felt wrong.

He grabbed the key ring.

He had to try a couple before he found the one that worked, but when he heard the click of the lock opening, he froze. He'd just unlocked the cell door of one of the most valuable prisoners in the dungeon. And now, he was going to go into that cell with him. He closed the door behind him as he stepped inside, as if that would matter. He couldn't lock it again from the inside.

“If you're worried about the lock, don't be,” he heard Aerin say from the other side of the cell. The sound of chain links clinking together followed, and Finch assumed that meant Aerin was shackled to something. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. “I wouldn't leave now, even if I could.”

Finch turned and took a couple more careful steps into the room. As he came closer, and his eyes adjusted to the dark, Aerin's face became clearer. He looked just as Finch remembered him. Not as he first remembered him, though, no; as he'd looked when they'd last seen each other. Aerin's skin still had that pallid gray tone, and if Finch looked closely he could see the dark black veins creeping across it. His eyes were still clouded with black, too, and they were narrowed as though he was putting Finch through exactly the same examination. He didn't look quite as regal as he had the last time Finch had seen him, though. Maybe because he was in much simpler clothes, or because he was chained to the floor by his ankle. Probably both. He was sitting on a wooden slab that had been attached to the wall like a bench, which only looked marginally more comfortable than the stone floor.

“You haven't changed much, have you,” Aerin noted, a smirk crossing his face.

“Neither have you.” Finch stood a few feet away from him, not because he was afraid of Aerin per se, but because he was afraid of what getting closer would do to him.

“You're allowed to get comfortable, you know. I'm not going to bite you,” Aerin shifted the way he was sitting, leaving enough room on the wooden seat for Finch to sit down beside him. Finch remained standing. “Alright then, if you're dedicating yourself to that, I can't stop you.” He paused, glancing away for a moment, before looking back up at Finch. “Who told you to come?”

“Nia did. She said she's been coming, and she thought it would be best if I did too,” Finch explained, feeling like that was enough information for the time being. Nia's words still rattled around in his head, though: He has been asking about you. Finch wasn't going to mention that. It would've only made things more complicated.

Aerin rolled his eyes. “Of course she did. Probably another effort to ‘purify’ me. I have no idea why she thought sending you would work, though.” His eyes narrowed. “But the real question is, why did you listen to her? When she told you to visit me.”

“I believed her, I thought it was a good idea,” Finch shrugged, averting his eyes. He was lying through his teeth, of course, but that was neither here nor there.

“Come on.” Aerin didn't seem amused by that answer. He stood up and stepped as close to Finch as he could, which was still decently far away, but it was close enough for him to press his thumb against the side of Finch's chin until his gaze was directed back towards him. Finch gently pushed his hand away. “You were nowhere near that into the Light the last time I saw you, and the last time I saw you, you were actively wielding a massive Light sword. Do you remember that?” He asked, an unmistakable teasing tone in his voice.

“Yes, I do remember that. And I'm sure you remember why I was doing it.”

“I do. So give me the real reason.” Now that Aerin was standing, they were eye level with each other, and Finch found himself unable to look away. Even with that darkness in them, his eyes still held something that could capture Finch's attention in an instant. “And I'll know if you're lying.”

Finch sensed a running theme of people being able to read him like a book, or at least claiming they could. He floundered for something to say. “I can't tell you,” he landed on, knowing that was probably the worst thing he could've said.

“Great,” Aerin sighed, dragging an exasperated hand over his face. “Why?”

“It would be… counterproductive,” Finch attempted to explain.

Aerin's brow furrowed. “What, so telling me why you decided to come would ruin whatever plan you have for how this should go?”

Finch clenched his hands into fists, then stretched his fingers all the way out. “I know it's confusing, but you just have to trust me on this.”

“Ironic choice of words given that you'd probably refuse to trust me, if I asked you to,” Aerin crossed his arms.

“I have a good reason for not trusting you,” Finch reminded him.

“Which is why I'm not asking you to trust me, I'm just asking you to be honest with me. It isn't like I have anyone to reveal your dark secrets to anyway.” Aerin gestured around himself, to the dark empty cell.

Finch looked at the ceiling, then at the ground. After Aerin had betrayed them, Finch had lost all of the faith he had that any of their relationship had been real. Well… almost all of it. But he couldn't shake the feeling that this was just another case of manipulation. If he told Aerin why he'd really visited, would that information just be used against him? It could easily be the basis to accuse him of treason, of an allegiance to the traitor. And whether or not he was actually charged, his reputation would certainly be tarnished.

When he looked at Aerin, though, even he had a hard time believing that. He would understand, wouldn't he? They'd be done with this night, go their separate ways, never have to worry about each other again. That was what he wanted, wasn't it? Telling Aerin that might make it easier. He just had to be clear about what he needed.

“Fine.” Finch took a deep breath. He needed a moment to think of the best way to word what he was about to say. “I haven't been sleeping lately. And I realized that the reason why that's been happening is because I have a lot of unresolved feelings… about you. But I don't want to, and- and I know that I have to get over all of that. So I came here to see you, and I'm hoping that maybe in doing all of this, I can finally get some closure. Then we won't ever have to see each other again.”

As he'd been speaking, Aerin had gotten closer to him. But, wait, that wasn't possible. No, he’d been the one to move in. Unconsciously, sure, but he'd still done it. The fact that he hadn't even noticed was arguably worse. But Aerin didn't look like he found it humorous, as a part of Finch had expected. He didn't look angry either, or upset, or happy, or even all that surprised. He just looked confused.

“I told you not to lie,” Aerin warned, a slight edge to his voice that Finch couldn't identify.

“Aerin, this has been tearing me up for weeks. If I was lying, someone should've told me.”

“Gods, Finch, you stubborn bastard,” Aerin hissed through gritted teeth. “Of course you let that lie for so long. Why didn't you come sooner?” He reached out and took hold of the front of Finch's shirt, pulling him in closer. Finch could see Aerin searching his eyes for something more, some sort of explanation. “What is it that you're so afraid of?”

Finch didn't respond for a moment, simply keeping his eyes locked on Aerin's as he allowed the words to dig into him. He remembered that speaking with Aerin had always made him feel a bit like he was being studied. He supposed he probably was, in a way. That remained true. Now, though, it was the last straw. He felt something snap inside of him, probably his last thread of sense. He placed his hand on the back of Aerin’s neck and, against all better judgment, he kissed Aerin Valleros.

Everything about it was wrong. He shouldn't have been here, he shouldn't have felt this way, he shouldn't have done this. But then the hand holding his shirt was being used to turn him around until he felt his back hit the wall, and suddenly it was all right. More right than anything had been in weeks, maybe more than anything had been ever.

Finch's hand wove up into Aerin's hair, savoring the feeling of it. He'd missed that more than he could've imagined. One of Aerin’s hands pressed flat against his chest, and the other one wandered upwards to brace itself at the side of his neck just below his jaw. It was then that he noticed how cold Aerin's hands were. His face was colder than it should've been too, come to think of it. That realization snapped Finch out of whatever stupor he'd been in.

“Wait, wait,” he muttered, turning his head away from Aerin. 

“What?” Aerin wore a puzzled expression on his face.

“I… I shouldn't be doing this.” Finch stepped to the side and then back into the center of the room. He began pacing back and forth in a line. “Oh Gods, what have I done? I knew I shouldn't have come, why did I ever…” He trailed off into a groan of frustration. He'd just made a massively irreparable mistake. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes as if that would make the whole situation go away.

“Finch, it isn't that bad,” Aerin tried to convince him. He sounded like he believed it, too, which Finch could only imagine for himself. “At least I'd hope you didn't think it was.”

“It wasn't bad, it-” Finch took a deep breath in. “It wasn't bad, but this is bad. As in, no one can know I did that. No one should know I was even here, really.”

“So that was your closure, then?” Aerin's words had a bite to them that Finch wished didn't cut as deep as it did. He sounded hurt, and it caused a stab of guilt in Finch's chest that he then felt even more guilty for having in the first place.

“No, actually, believe it or not this is the exact opposite of what I wanted to happen here.”

“Well that isn't my fault, is it.” He heard Aerin sit back down behind him.

“No, I'm not blaming you, I just…” Finch closed his eyes. “I have to leave.”

The unfinished final half of his sentence hung between them, unspoken but still well understood. I have to leave, and I'm not going to come back.

A heavy silence found a home in the room for a moment. “Okay, fine. If that's what you want.”

Finch could hear Aerin's disappointment, and it killed him. Because he didn't want to leave, but he had to or else he'd ruin himself. He'd probably lose his friends, his brother, his dignity, almost everything he'd ever cared about. Did he really think that all of that was worth it, just for one person? That was probably what scared him the most: the fact that he knew deep down that the answer was yes. So he had to leave now.

He took a few steps toward the cell door and placed his hand on it, lingering there. “Goodbye, Aerin,” he muttered into the darkness.

“Goodbye, Finch,” the darkness responded.

Finch pulled the cell door open again and stepped back out into the hall, closing it behind him as quietly as he could. He was sure the guards were still at their posts, and now wasn't the time to be found. He locked it tightly again, and returned the key ring to the still unconscious guard on the ground, who he was sure would wake up very soon. It was time for him to go. He spared one last glance at the cell door before he departed again.

He made quick work of getting back up to his room, especially now that he knew what would be in his path. Shutting the door behind him was a bit comforting, more than he'd expected it to be at least. He supposed he'd grown sort of used to being there. Not to mention that now he was alone, which meant he had a chance to work through all of this before anyone else saw him.

He hadn't stopped feeling guilty, even after he'd gotten back into bed. He didn't intend to tell his friends, but he couldn't help thinking about how disappointed they'd be if they knew. Especially Nia, who had advised that he go in the first place. And she'd inevitably end up visiting Aerin again, wouldn’t she? Would she be able to tell something had happened? All of the uncertainty gave him a headache. He was exhausted. He didn't know how he could possibly be expected to cope with the seemingly constant stressors being thrown his way, but he was still going to try.

Right now, though, he just needed some sleep. He needed to forget about Aerin, and Nia, and everyone else. He wished he didn't have to, and that everything was easy, but it wasn't. Nothing had been even remotely easy since Kade had gotten trapped in the Shadow Realm, and now things would probably never be that simple again, no matter how much he begged the Gods for respite. His choices were either to keep moving forward, or change his name and run off to live in the mountains. He just had to keep being resilient. Either way, though, he'd be much more capable in the morning. He had to be. Whether he wanted to or not.

[as-frightened-as-you]

And now to some headcanons and stuff from here about Jason inhaling the fossilized vampire and worried Salim. Nothing super-original, just some things I would love to share. Enjoy 😁

/warning: it gets kinda angsty/

***

As soon as Jason realizes that he might be infected, he makes Salim promise to kill him the moment they see that Jason really is turning into something.

“Even if the others are still alive, not one of them has the balls to end this,” he says. “You’re the only one who can do it. You have to do it.”

He can't help but think about Clarice and Joey. He saw what happened to Joey, he saw the thing moving under the skin of Clarice's throat. He's fucking terrified.

"I don't wanna die, but even less I wanna turn into a fucking vampire," he says. "The last thing I wanna do is rip your head off. Your son is waiting for you."

Salim does try to argue. "They did not bite you," he says, "it might be something else. We will get out, you will get some fresh air, you will feel better."

They both know that's not true.

"Just… promise me, Salim," Jason says. It takes some effort to add: "Please."

Reluctantly, Salim does make that promise.

***

Every time Jason starts coughing, Salim looks at him, worried. At some point, Jason snaps at him, really pissed off, because he is so sure that Salim is worried about the coughing being too loud so the creatures can hear it.

“I can’t fucking keep it down,” he says, “stop looking at me like that! You’re waiting for me to start turning or what?”

Salim looks at him, confused because of his anger. “I’m worried about you,” he says. “That does not sound good.”

Jason stares at him, puzzled. He was almost ready to say something like “fuck off and go in there alone, if I’m dying too fucking loudly for you"; now he feels a bit awkward. He has no idea how to respond to that.

“Oh,” he says and just keeps walking.

***

When Nick joins them like a fucking knight in shining armor, Jason is… not as happy as he thought he would be. Don't get him wrong, he is glad and relieved to see Nicky alive, but… Nick is mentally fucked up already, and some shit has happened today, and Nick has a tendency to overthink stuff. Jason just can't be vulnerable and scared around him; Jason has to be that badass marine, has to be the strong one — confident enough to make Nicky keep it together.

Jason is scared, probably dying and so fucking tired. It was so much easier with Salim alone, when there was no need to pretend he's okay.

All Jason wants is to get Nicky and Salim both to safety. Is that too much to ask?

***

When Salim asks him to tell Zain his last words, Jason almost laughs out loud. That requires some really fucking impressive level of optimism to think that Jason can last long enough to be able to go to Salim’s house after all what happened.

He is absolutely sure he's gonna die. He knows that even if he makes it out of here, no one up there is gonna give a fuck about finding a cure for him. He’s probably going to end up in some laboratories or something and die during some fucked-up experiments.

It doesn't really matter if he dies now or later. He just wants his death to not be in vain.

To go out with a bang, fighting vampires for a vague chance to save Salim — that's not the worst option. He’s okay with that as long as Salim survives.

They both make it to the lift, and that’s a fucking miracle.

***

Jason gets hurt during the fight in the shepherd's hut. He could anticipate that from the beginning: the cough made him throw away his shot, the creature attacked, and he wasn't able to dodge that or to protect himself.

Salim saves him. Of course it's Salim who saves him. Jason has almost got used to seeing this fucking metal stake right in front of his eyes.

Nicky is not that lucky. Nicky is dead, lying on the floor with his eyes gouged out, and there's some sick fucked-up irony in this. Jason gets to survive the fight only to be dead in a couple of days at best, coughing his lungs out, and Nicky is dead.

That's so fucked.

Jason isn't really paying attention to what's going on around him. Salim asks if he can dress Jason's wound, and Jason just nods, not moving away from Nick's body. Salim takes off his backpack and vest, cuts up the sleeve of the T-shirt to get to the wound on his shoulder.

A touch on his skin makes Jason flinch — or rather the sudden realization: he’s vulnerable, he can’t fight, and someone got close to him while he wasn’t paying attention. Salim says sorry, moving a bit away.

Jason is too tired to really care about it — or explain it to Salim, for that matter. He just lets Salim finish patching up his wound.

That doesn’t feel that wrong and uncomfortable, to be honest.

***

Jason doesn’t really think about Salim being an Iraqi soldier of the fucking Republican Guard — until he does. It didn’t really matter down in the temple. Here, on the surface — that's where it becomes a problem.

“You have to go,” he says.

He doesn’t even hesitate. He probably should’ve. That's probably treason.

Jason doesn't give a fuck about treason right now.

“I can’t leave you like that,” Salim says almost angrily, as if Jason insulted him. “You’re hurt. The shepherds may come back. What was that thing you kept saying? Semper Fi?”

“For fuck’s sake, Salim.”

Jason knows he has to make Salim go away. Jason would physically push him out of the hut if not for the wound and blood loss; Jason is too weak and tired to even argue.

Jason wouldn’t go away. How can he expect Salim to do that?

“Just… take my watch,” he says, holding out his hand. “Don’t fuck around for too long and get the fuck outta here before the cavalry arrives. Even if I…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, coughing.

***

Jason does his best to stay awake, he really does, but the infection and the wound take their toll. His eyes are closing; he struggles to keep them open.

“Stay here,” Salim says.

“Ain’t going nowhere,” Jason mumbles.

He feels like he has to say something. He knows damn well he’ll never see Salim again; even if he will survive somehow, there’s no chance they’ll ever meet.

He’s never been any good at heart-to-heart chit-chats.

“I’m… glad I didn’t shoot you,” he says, causing Salim to smile.

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t shoot you,” Salim answers, chuckling.

Fair enough. Jason shakes hands with him, trying not to start coughing again, and leans back against the wall, trying not to pass out.

***

Jason loses this battle. He is half-awake, half-aware of his surroundings, leaning on Salim’s shoulder, unable to move or to speak or to open his eyes. At first Salim was trying to talk to him, keep him conscious, wake him up; now Salim is just sitting there, muttering something to himself from time to time. Jason can feel the warmth of his body and his hand that is placed on Jason’s back.

Jason spent hours wearing a vest and a backpack. Now a touch on the back through only a T-shirt feels… weird. Vulnerable.

Comforting.

He manages to cling to reality due to pure stubbornness. Salim is not safe here. Jason has to make sure he gets the fuck out before it’s too late.

There’s nothing he can do about that, really.

It feels like an eternity — definitely not a pleasant one — until something starts to happen around him. Salim gently helps him lie down, head on his backpack; Jason can feel Salim’s hand on his shoulder as Salim says something. Jason doesn’t understand a word of it, but there’s definitely guilt and regret in his voice.

“Just go,” Jason wants to say, but can’t make a sound.

He can hear a quiet “goodbye” and retreating footsteps. Salim’s gone — to his son, to safety. Nothing to worry about anymore; nothing to fight for.

The lights fade.

[thelordofgifs]

Anyway some thoughts on part 18 of tfs because sometimes self care is lying in bed on a Saturday morning analysing your own fic. I like this part a lot actually, but it’s also very self-indulgent. There is a battle going on outside and I should be dealing with that! But instead I am going to make the little guys have dramatic conversations!

So this part is mostly about slowing the plot down for a bit to do character work – for Maedhros and Maglor mainly, Fingon and Curufin are both involved but I wasn’t really focusing on what’s going on in their heads here. Maglor in particular has a lot to do in part 18. Since the stabbing he has generally been very Wise and Kind and Patient which is all quite nice but also! I wanted him to be snappy! I wanted him to be determined to save Curufin’s life and also be SO annoyed that he has to do it! I wanted him to verbally rip Curufin to absolute shreds, which. I think he did. Better than Fingon managed, anyway. Maglor knows how to hit at Curufin’s worst insecurities – his weird relationship with his father’s legacy, and the fact that his son disowned him – and he does just that. Without spoiling too much, I am setting stuff up with Maglor and Curufin and am SO glad I get to write them interacting now; it’s a brotherly relationship that fascinates me.

Anyway still on Maglor: he isn’t doing very well. Because! being stabbed by your brother whom you love more than anyone else in the world because he thought you were literally Sauron is Intensely Traumatic! But also he has no idea how to deal with this at all. Because he isn’t angry with Maedhros – he knows it isn’t Maedhros’ fault – but he also can’t forget. And he’s started flinching when Maedhros moves suddenly and he doesn’t mean to but he can’t stop. Almost all the conversation between Maedhros, Maglor and Fingon is from Maedhros pov – with a little omniscient head-hopping because I’m allowed to do that – but there was a lot I was trying to get across about Maglor’s emotional state too. He’s deeply unhappy basically. And that’s important because the story has focused so much on what’s going on in Maedhros’ head – and will be again now that he’s remembered – but he is not the only person with a lot going on atm.

But also, Maedhros! The central conversation of part 18, in which he confronts Fingon and Maglor, was very important to me. Maedhros has not had much agency lately. (In fact, for such a central character, he’s had very little agency throughout tfs. He’s much more reactive than the other protagonists: he doesn’t cause plot events so much as respond to them.) So I wanted him to be rightly frustrated by all the secret-keeping, and even to take it out a bit on the two of them. Particularly snapping at Maglor felt quite necessary – Maedhros and Maglor have been very gentle with each other throughout the story, but they do still have Tension sometimes. And then when he finds out about the whole cancelling-the-patrols thing, he’s initially upset, but by the time Fingon finds him he’s gone kind of composed and existential about it instead. I like Maedhros to be unpredictable, even to those who know him best: they don’t really have any idea how he might react to any given piece of information. (This is a quality of his I think is quite strongly based in canon. Abdicating, standing aside at Losgar, forming the Union instead of going after Lúthien, even searching for Eluréd and Elurín: he tends to do the unexpected.)

Anyway, it was important I got all this character work in now, because of course we are now at the Revelation and once again into very high angst territory. It’ll be fun!

[the-invisible-queer]

Stream of consciousness highlights from my notes app:

Death of Watcher:

Are Steven, Shane, and Ryan really leaving YouTube??

"I hope you follow us one last time." WHERE WE GOING BESTIE?!?!?!? I'M POOR BUT I'LL SUPPORT ON SOCIALS

Nevermind 😔

AT LEAST if it was on another streaming service I'd be more supportive. But at this point just turn memberships on. Patreon. Something like Mythical Society.

ANYTHING would have been better than this choice

The fact that I can't go on Tumblr and mourn Watcher is TRAGIC

So I'll mourn alone 😭

Random:

The amount of times I've opened Tumblr but I'm logged out so I can't do shit

I miss y'all and it's only been like 4hrs

Me, watching a TikTok of a very pretty man with dark curly hair and pretty eyes who sings nice: wow Joe really fucked me up for life, huh?

The biggest plot twist is if I end up having more photos of Nick than Joe. DOUBTFUL. But not impossible.

Looking forward to logging into Tumblr and seeing if I got any notifs on my main blog. Unlikely. I do hope for a Joe fit elimination update. Hope dickgate 2033 won.

Joe Rambling:

The fact that Joe posted those selfies but I can't be horny on the main because the main is IG which has become a puritan society

BUT I AM FERAL AS FUCK

JOE WITH THE BANDANA PLEASE FUCK ME

We're gonna get a full cowboy Joe era. I am predicting it at 4:08am on April 20th, 2024

"Man, he do got a big ass forehead. BUT I LOVE IT. My man and his five-head. 🥰" - ME about Joe

Can't wait to scream about Joe's fruity little bandana moment

The struggle of so badly wanting to both fuck him and make fun of him over the bandana is STRONG

Decided to make a Joe edit to be somewhat productive. Spent an hour on it. Left the app to respond to a message. Came back. The app deleted the fucking work. 😐

Gotta go spend another hour staring at Joe's chest hair again I guess which is like not the worst thing ya know 👀

I literally don't understand why his chest hair makes me feral but I find it actually disgusting on anyone else

Making fun of Nick:

The fact that I've yet to make fun of Nick for the way his head moves when he sings is a missed opportunity

Okay, Mr. Bobblehead

Me and Josh having an important discussion:

Rest in RIP to Josh's best friend who had to listen to me and Josh argue about Joe having a big dick or not

It's been 20min and Josh brought up Joe's dick again. What is going on? His best friend is still on the call.

Why did Josh out me as "having a picture of Nick Jonas' dick" on my phone 😭 ITS NOT A DICK PIC ITS AN UNDERWEAR PIC THAT LEAVES NOTHING TO THE IMAGINATION

[blueskittlesart]

would love to hear any thoughts and feelings u have abt oot zelink (shink??)

YES. zelda and link in oot are so. AGH. sorry this is literally 5 paragraphs LOL good luck reading it

they first meet when they are nine years old. zelda is in this state where she is completely powerless and made to feel crazy and suddenly there is someone there who listens to her. someone who can understand how helpless she feels, because he's experienced helplessness in the worst way. and he promises to HELP her. she's gotten so used to being ignored and talked over and this quiet little boy LISTENS to her and for the first time in her life she feels heard. For that first segment of oot, when link is still a kid and his only job is to get through those 3 dungeons, it's truly him and zelda against the world. she is the only person in the world who TRULY understands him. (you can argue for saria, but she's kokiri, which puts a gap between her and link, who is slowly beginning to realize just why he didn't ever belong in the forest.)

zelda made mistakes, obviously. she was nine. she told link to go to the temple of time and that caused the destruction of her kingdom. It's important to me that link doesn't EVER blame her for that. i think he actually allows her a lot more compassion and understanding than he allows HIMSELF in that situation. when he looks back on that day, it's always "Why did I take the sword" and not "why did SHE tell me to take the sword." he recognizes her compromised position moreso than he recognizes his own. she was a child in need of help, but he was a child that should have known better. there's a disconnect there that is heightened by the adults around him and how they respond to the situation, too. That's partially why he works himself so hard, because as far as he's concerned, she's gone and he has destroyed everything she worked to protect.

zelda, on the other hand, blames herself for EVERYTHING. she becomes sheik because she is no longer WORTHY of being zelda, the ancestral name that denotes WISDOM. she was not wise enough to see that she was leading the only person who ever bothered to listen to her into this terrible fate. when link wakes up, there is a HUGE struggle on sheik's part over whether he is allowed to go to him. he makes this huge show of being mysterious, of getting just close enough to give hints, to be helpful, but of disappearing the second link reaches out to him. He remembers what happened the last time he got too close. he won't hurt link like that again. He's in this constant internal battle over the way things used to be vs the way things are. he remembers link as his friend, the little boy who offered him help when no one else would, and link still IS that boy, literally he is still mentally a nine year old boy, but his exterior has grown and hardened and sheik sees a hero that link never would have needed to be if not for his mistakes.

by the end of oot they both kind of drop those pretenses, both physically (in sheik's case) and mentally everything starts to come crashing down when sheik is revealed to be zelda. all of a sudden link realizes his mistakes didn't kill zelda, and sheik realizes that his mistakes didn't destroy link. they are alive and they are together and they are POWERFUL, more powerful than they were 7 years ago and when they face ganon together they WIN. but there's still that nagging thought in the back of sheik's mind that he ripped link away from the childhood he should have had. that neither of them were allowed to grow up at a normal pace, neither of them were allowed to really GROW together. so he asks link to go back and fix it all. and link agrees, because he can see that's what sheik wants more than anything. the chance to grow up together.

you all know how i feel about child-timeline zelink. I think they take the chance their adult selves worked so hard to give them, and they grow up together. link keeps his memories, and it does hurt sometimes that zelda doesn't share them, but as he grows older it gets easier and he begins to tell her about them. she's the only one who could ever really understand. and she does.