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avis-writeshq · 6 months

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02 — haunted

summary: “something’s gone terribly wrong, you’re all i wanted.”/“you’re not gone, you can’t be gone.” pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst warnings: rated 16+ for alcohol, religious talk (inaccurate portrayal of Christianity), vomit, INCREDIBLY CANON COMPLIANT ‼️IF YOU WERE TRIGGERED BY S2 EP15 REVELATIONS IN CRIMINAL MINDS, DO NOT READ THIS‼️ wc: 10.1k a/n: another special mention to @astrophileous for beta reading and hyping me up!! love you loads zahra 🤎 (she's also doing an AMAZING derek morgan series that i have the honour in beta-in so if you have time please do check it out!! it is an absolute work of art) SPARKS FLY MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

There is never a dull day when working at the BAU. After weeks of cases and paperwork, a night out was exactly what everyone needed. A place to get drunk, have fun and unwind– and O'Keefe's was the exact place to do just that.

“You know, you can at least try to look like you’re having fun,” Emily muses, nudging your shoulder.

Emily joined the team soon after Elle had resigned, and as much as you missed your friend, you enjoyed Emily’s company. She’s too observant for her own good; grinning at you from across the room whenever you have the slightest interaction with certain people. She’s a brilliant addition to the team, much to your chagrin, but you know it’s all in good fun. Well, all in good fun for her.

You shoot her a playful glare, sipping on your drink. “I am having fun!”

“Liar,” Emily says instantly, grinning at you. “C’mon, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you deny, “I’m just tired. Things have been… busy to say the least. I’m just glad that the team is getting some R&R. Well deserved, might I add. How are you? You know, with joining the team and all that.”

She smiles in your direction before downing a shot and shrugging. “It’s been good! Yeah, everyone is so… welcoming. It’s nice.”

“Different to a desk job?” You ask with a teasing lilt in your voice.

Emily laughs softly. “Yeah, totally.”

Your gaze shifts to where Spencer is sitting, for once enjoying himself in such a crowded area. He’s talking to two strangers at a table, his hands gesticulating as he explains something and the two people seem thoroughly amused.

“So… Spencer, huh?”

You frown. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

Emily laughs, “You’re staring at him with heart eyes. Anyone can tell. Except for him, apparently.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“For a profiler, you’re a horrible liar.”

You let out something that sounds akin to a dying cow, turning your attention back to your drink. Your attention wavers and it shifts back to Spencer who is enthusiastically talking about something to the two amused guests. He grins at them as they drink, his own cup still full. Derek is thoroughly enjoying himself as he dances with a group of girls, and you can see Aaron and Haley dancing together on the floor as well. It’s wholesome, seeing everyone in their casual wear and just having fun.

“You should talk to him,” Emily tries again, nudging you. “I’ll buy you a drink if you do.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re bribing me to talk to my best friend?”

“I’m bribing you to give me entertainment,” she corrects, laughing.

“You’re horrible,” you tell her, smiling, as you walk past her in Spencer’s direction. “I expect that drink to be delivered to me.”

“Deal!” She calls after you, downing a shot as she watches you.

Spencer smiles when he sees you make your way over to him, shuffling his chair to the side to give you more room.

“Hi,” he murmurs, pulling your seat closer to him. “Having fun?”

“I should be asking that to you,” you respond, smiling. The two people he was once talking to take their leave, giggling about something you couldn’t quite make out. “I didn’t mean to scare away your company.”

He immediately shakes his head at your words. “I’d rather talk to you anyway.”

You can’t help the silly grin that spreads across your face or the way your cheeks heat up and you cough. “Well, I hope I can live up to your expectations.”

Spencer laughs, his hand gravitating to your knee and he squeezes good-naturedly. “You exceed them.”

You think he’s trying to kill you and you swear you stop breathing as you choke out, “I’m glad.”

It isn’t long before Emily makes good on her promise, and a waiter appears on your left. He presents a drink to your table, the glass adorned with a lemon rind and a raspberry, and you eagerly take a gulp.

Spencer frowns a little as he watches you drink. “Aren’t you going to question who it’s from?”

“I know who it’s from,” you respond cheerfully, letting out a contented sigh. You offer the drink to him, moving the straw so that it’s pointing in his direction. “Want some?”

He eyes the pink drink suspiciously. “What is it?”

“It’s a Pink Bikini!” You chirp, sipping the drink again. “Like… coconut rum, raspberries, and lemonade. It’s good, Spence, you can barely taste the alcohol.”

His nose scrunches at the idea of coconut rum. “I dunno.”

“You’re not gonna get drunk from one sip,” you protest happily, a little tipsy. “It’s good! Besides, how do you know you’re not going to like it if you never try it?”

“You’re literally drunk right now!” He points out, laughing a little and moving the drink out of your reach. “Give it to me.”

“That’s only because I had a couple drinks earlier,” you argue, lunging for the glass. You’re quick but Spencer is quicker (and taller), and he chugs the drink before slamming it back onto the table. “Spencer!”

He grins at you, smacking his lips as he plays with the paper straw. “I’m protecting you, (Y/N). Who knows what you would’ve done if you drank any more.”

“You’re insufferable,” you chastise half-heartedly, “I was thirsty.”

“I have water,” he says, fishing a plastic bottle out of his satchel. He cracks the lid open, taking a sip himself before passing it to you. “Drinking even moderate amounts of alcohol can lead to dehydration. Drinking water slows down this effect, allowing the liver to metabolise the alcohol that was already consumed. This also means you won’t have as bad a hangover tomorrow morning.”

You beam at him, taking tentative sips from his water bottle. The fact that you’re drinking from the same bottle as him is not lost on you, nor the fact that he finished your drink by using your straw– your lipgloss stained straw– and he didn’t even bat an eye.

“What would I do without you?” You croon, handing his bottle back.

“Probably die of dehydration,” he responds, taking one last gulp of water, before returning the bottle back to his bag.

“Ah, yes, that’s right,” you laugh again, beaming at him. You’re not sure if it’s from the drinks, but you can feel your cheeks begin to flush. Did it get hotter in here?

“Hey, sorry to be the bearer of bad news but we have a case,” JJ pats your shoulder sympathetically, frowning. “Horrible timing, but it’s urgent.”

You all but whine. “But I’m tipsy.”

“I’ve got aspirin in my bag,” JJ says, “you’ll be fine.”

“Stupid serial killer,” you huff, getting up from your seat. “They owe me a day off.”

***

“You know it never fails. Just as I’m getting my groove thang going, bam! We’re back at the BAU,” Derek says, pouring himself a much needed cup of coffee and sitting at the roundtable.

Spencer shrugs. “You know, statistically, a case doesn’t come in with any more frequency if you’re at a party or gathering than if you aren’t. It’s a… trick of the mind. We merely remember the ones that came in that way more.”

“Besides, how long does it take for you to get your ‘groove thang’ going anyway?” You tease, sipping from your own cup of coffee, and Emily cackles from beside you.

“Only when he’s sleeping,” Gideon comments, walking into the conference room and taking off his coat.

Hotch’s brows raise in a mixture of surprise and concern. “Where were you tonight?”

“I told you, I went to the Smithsonian,” he grunts as he sits into his chair.

“You missed a good time,” Emily insists, smiling.

“I had a good time,” Gideon responds, his attention turning back to the screen where JJ was getting ready to present the latest case.

“Well, that’s definitely over,” she says, flicking the screen on. “Georgia. The Kyles– Dennis and Lacy– were murdered an hour ago in the suburban Atlanta home.”

Hotch’s brows raise in surprise. “An hour ago?”

JJ nods. “Police were on the scene unusually fast.”

“Why?” Derek asks, leaning over the table.

“One of the UnSubs called them and told them that the other was about to murder the victims.”

You huff out a laugh in disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

“From inside the house.” JJ purses her lips, gesturing to the transcript that was printed out in their files. “According to the dispatcher, the first male sounded terrified and begged them to get there before the other, who they both identified as Raphael, was about to kill the sinners that lived there.”

“‘Sinners’?” Hotch echoes.

JJ nods again, a grimace painted over her features. “The 911 centre is going to send Garcia the tape.”

“How fast was the police response time?” Spencer asks, glancing at the screen.

“Four minutes, twenty-six seconds. During which time Raphael was able to do…” JJ clicks a button on the remote and an array of gruesome crime scene photos popped up onto the screen. “This.”

“In four and a half minutes?” Emily asks incredulously, frowning.

Garcia immediately turns away from the screen, clutching her mug closer to her chest. You can’t help but cringe as well from the violence presented in the photos: blood everywhere, smeared across the walls and floors of the house, and the victims lifeless.

“Mr. Kyle is a dot-com millionaire. His company is one of the largest employers in the community. There’s going to be media coverage. Also, when they arrived, the police found this displayed prominently on the bed.”

Another image appears on the screen, this time a page of the Bible placed into a plastic evidence bag with a certain section highlighted.

“Revelation, Chapter 6, Verse 8,” Hotch reads for the rest of the team.

Derek can’t help but scoff. “They’re killing sinners.”

“These guys are on a mission. And mission-based killers will not stop killing,” Spencer says with a wince.

“‘And I looked, and behold, a pale horse, and his name that sat upon him was Death,” Hotch begins, eyes trained on the Bible page.

Gideon continues, his voice quiet and grim, “And Hell followed with him.”

***

You sigh tiredly as you slump into the seat beside Spencer, playing with the cap of your water bottle. The sky outside is painted in oranges and purples as the sun begins to rise, and you try to hold back the frustrated groan when you see the blaring ‘4:22AM’ flash on your watch.

“Is everything okay?” Spencer asks quietly, looking over at you.

You shake your head, running your fingers through your hair. “I just… I have a bad feeling about this case. There’s something… off about it.”

He hums in thought, “we’ve dealt with religious motives before, though.”

“I know but just–” you huff, leaning against the headrest. “It’s just weird. I mean, usually if one of the UnSubs were partnered with someone who was a liability, they’d eliminate them. But that’s just not happening here.”

“Don’t think about the case,” Spencer says gently, resting the palm of his hand flat against your knee. “It’ll be fine, trust me.”

When you don’t respond, he pokes your cheek gently shooting you a lopsided smile. “Hey. It’ll be okay.”

“I hope it will be,” you respond quietly, moving so that your cheek is pressed against his shoulder. “But you saw those images; what the UnSubs can do in less than five minutes. I know it’s nothing we haven’t seen before but–”

“(Y/N).” He squeezes your knee again and you flush as he continues to speak. “It’ll be okay. We’ll be back home before you know it. Trust me.”

You nod, although you can’t shake this feeling off. “Promise you’ll be safe?”

Spencer smiles at you. “Promise.”

***

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” you mutter, turning away as the video of Mr. Kyle being murdered plays on repeat. Your stomach churns at the mere mental image that pops up in your mind, and a chill run downs your spine.

The case is a lot more gruesome than you expected it to be, especially when it came to the team’s attention that a video of the murder was circulating the internet. The video was currently being played on loop, with the voice of the UnSubs playing out of the computer. You thought you saw it all but this was unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.

That is, until Spencer stood from his seat.

“Agent Franks?” He whispers, looking towards the lead detective. “Does this building have wireless internet?”

Agent Franks nods. “Yeah. Why?”

Spencer swallows, gesturing to the computer. “That camera’s on right now. The computer has connected itself to the internet; it’s streaming a video feed somewhere.”

Hotch’s concern only deepens, along with the frown on his face. “Can we trace the stream to the destination?”

“If we keep it open, Garcia might be able to–” Spencer begins, only to be cut off by a beeping from the computer.

In bright red lettering, the words: ‘THE ARMIES OF SATAN SHALL NOT PREVAIL’ flash against the black screen before turning off.

“So, they’re controlling it remotely?” Hotch asks, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Is that even possible?” Emily asks in disbelief.

“Yeah, you can totally access someone’s computer remotely. It’s actually done a lot today when a mortal calls for tech support. Instead of giving you instructions the tech can work on your computer from wherever she is,” Garcia explains through the phone.

“And they maintain the access even after the work is done?” Hotch asks.

“They’re not supposed to, but I suppose you could install a Trojan horse.”

Spencer turns to Gideon. “Something left in the computer to be turned on later. It’s the same way that websites get pop-up ads onto your computer.”

“Garcia can you check the Kyles’ phone records and see if they called tech support in the last six months?” Hotch requests as he flips through the Kyle family’s folder.

“Right-o. Oh, and if you get me the laptop I can search the drive for anything implanted there.”

Hotch nods. “As fast as we can.”

“By the way, this video? It’s gone crazy viral.”

Gideon frowns. “What does that mean?”

“That means it’s the most downloaded video on the entire Internet. Worldwide. And judging by the responses people seem to think it’s pretty cool.”

“Call us if you find anything on the Kyles’ computer,” Hotch mutters, before the phone hangs up.

“Honestly, they probably don’t even realise that the video is real,” you say quietly, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I mean, you see a video on the internet. The last thing you’d think is that it’s actual people being murdered.”

“They probably think that it’s marketing for a horror film or something,” JJ adds on, but the look on her face is just as disgusted.

“Well, the UnSubs were right about one thing,” Derek mutters, nodding grimly. “The world is pretty screwed up.”

***

After hours of going through files and trying to find a paper trail, you’re left with a mountain of paperwork in front of you and sore eyes. You press the pads of your fingers against the corner of your eyes, slumping over the table.

“Hey.”

Spencer’s voice brings you out of your thoughts and you peek a look at him. “Hm?”

A takeaway cup of coffee is placed in front of you and you immediately perk up. He chuckles softly, patting your head. “You looked like you needed it.”

You spy the name written across the paper cup and frown. “It’s your coffee.”

“You need it more than me,” he says honestly, smiling. “Besides, I’m okay.”

You take a tentative sip of the drink, the sweetness of the sugar overwhelming the bitter taste of the coffee but you don’t mind it. Instead, you didn’t actually mind it; especially because it’s from him.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “We can share it if you want.”

He shakes his head ‘no’, turning back to the files on the page. “Where did you get up to?”

“Nowhere special. Agent Franks is right; there’s nothing in any of the files relating to knife fights that are remotely similar to the case,” you say, slumping against the table and leaning your head on your arm. “I’ve got six or so left to go through but I’m not getting much luck anyway.”

At that moment, JJ enters the room, holding another cream coloured file. “What if we were looking at this the wrong way?”

Hotch turns to her. “What do you mean?”

“I looked for unsolved home invasions. Three months ago there was a prowler called in directly outside of the Kyles’ house.”

Your brows knit together at her words and look up at her. “A prowler?”

JJ nods. “The witness was walking his dog in a nearby park. Going back to his car, he saw a man in dark clothing go over the back wall and start sneaking up to the house. By the time the police got there, the prowler was gone.”

“Only one man?” Hotch asks.

“Apparently.”

“Was the witness able to describe the man?” Spencer questions.

JJ looks into the papers before shaking her head. “If he did, it’s not in this case file.

Hotch looks at JJ then back at the corkboard. “Is there a name and address to the witness?”

“Tobias Hankel,” JJ reads. “Lives about an hour from here.”

Hotch lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing his eyes. “It’s a long shot, but he might be able to give us a description. Why don’t you and Reid go out there, see if you can find Mr Hankel, and see if he remembers anything.”

You immediately frown, perking up at his words. “I can go too, sir. There’s a safety in numbers.”

“You’re exhausted and we need you here,” Hotch says, immediately shutting your suggestion down. “We don’t need three people to talk to a witness.”

Your face falls and your stomach churns. “I understand that, sir, but it’s late and wouldn’t it be safer if more people go?”

“We’ll be fine,” Spencer reassures, squeezing your arm. “We’ll be armed and we’ve got our phones.”

A small breath escapes you and you nod slowly, chewing your bottom lip. “Okay. Be safe.”

He smiles. “I will.”

JJ snickers lightly, turning to Hotch. “Be safe,” she echoes, grinning.

Hotch can’t help but chuckle as he returns with, “I’ll be so safe.”

“Oh shut up,” you laugh, rolling your eyes. “I’m gonna kill you.”

JJ grins. “But how will that keep us safe?”

You throw an eraser at her shoulder in response and she laughs loudly, walking out of the room. Spencer squeezes your arm again, rubbing your shoulder through the fabric of his jumper before following after her.

It isn’t long before the lead detective rushes into the room, his words flying out of his mouth. “Agent Hotchner, we got another murder.”

***

“Tobias Hankel is the UnSub.”

Five words is all it takes for your world to come crashing down around you. Hankel? The UnSub? Your mouth is dry as the head detective explains about the dogs and you think you’re going to throw up. Your mind spins and your chest pounds with anxiety because oh God, what’s going to happen to the others?

“We sent Spencer and JJ there,” you whisper, your throat closing up. You tug desperately at your collar, trying to breathe. “Oh my God, we sent them there. We sent them there.”

“Hey, hey,” Derek is quick to ground you, gripping your shoulders firmly. “They’ll be okay. It’s Spencer Genius Reid and Jennifer Bad-ass Jareau. They’ll be okay.”

You shake your head firmly, pulling away from his grasp and clutching your head. “I should be there with them. I should have gone with them. We don’t know what Tobias is capable of, Morgan, something could have happened to them.”

“We’re dispatching police now,” the detective says, getting off the phone.

Tears spill from the corners of your eyes and you try to keep your breathing steady. It doesn’t work. The room is spinning and you can’t see straight. The words your team are trying to get through to you fades into background noise and you let out a choked sob.

“They could be–” Your words don’t make it off your tongue and you turn, gesturing to the black screen that was once playing the video of the woman and the dogs. “Oh my God.”

“(Y/N),” Emily holds your shoulders tightly, her words a mixture of firmness and care as she tries to snap you out of it. “They’re going to be okay. We have to go there now.”

“They can’t be gone. Spencer can’t be gone,” you say, more to yourself than anything. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s go. We have to find them.”

The others don’t need to be told twice. You get into the passenger seat with Emily, trying to calm your breathing. One hour is too long. Why does Tobias have to live so far away? You press the palm of your hand to your mouth, the lump in your throat getting bigger. Hot tears fall down your cheeks as the world becomes a blur of flashing lights and you try not to cry. It’s your fault. You should have been there with him. There’s safety in numbers. Why didn’t you trust your gut?

“Don’t do that,” Emily says sternly, gripping the wheel tighter.

You can’t bring yourself to respond, merely shaking your head adamantly.

“Stop blaming yourself,” Emily tries again, glancing at you for a second before turning her attention back to the road. “It’s not your fault.”

“I should be there with them.” Your voice cracks pathetically and you wipe furiously at your eyes.

“You couldn’t have known.”

“I should have.”

She looks at you again. “Stop. You couldn’t have known. It’s not your fault.”

The rest of the car ride is silent. You’ve learned that this is the hardest part of the job: losing someone. Losing someone because of a job. It seems ridiculous, considering that it’s something so miniscule in the grand scheme of things, and yet it is the most common factor in divorces. A lack of commitment. Instead of committing to something that actually matters and can’t be replaced, their attention turns to something so lacklustre. If Spencer were here he would tell you the exact statistics. If Spencer were here, you wouldn’t even need to think about the statistics.

The sound of sirens echo through the once quiet country area and the police officers file out of their cars. You fasten your Kevlar vest over your chest hastily, fumbling with the clasps as you jump out of the car.

“John, Bobby, take the house with Hotch, Gideon and (L/N),” the captain orders, pointing towards the house.

Your stomach lurches as Hotch busts the door open, and you move upstairs with your gun pointed out.

“Clear!” You yell, rendezvousing with Hotch and Gideon soon after.

“Downstairs is clear,” Hotch says, nodding towards you.

“Then where the hell is he?” Gideon mutters, looking around the rooms of the house.

The blood rushes to your ears and the air grows thick. You can’t breathe. The house is unmaintained with mould growing in the corners of the rooms and dust gathering on the shelves, the paint on the walls cracking from water damage. Your eyes sting as the air pricks at your skin, and your legs carry you down the stairs and out the house.

“JJ,” you breathe, your eyes wide as you meet the blonde sitting at the back of an ambulance. You pull her into a hug. “You’re okay.”

It’s a different JJ to what you’re used to. She’s always been put together with not a hair out of place. She’s usually so full of life and mirth, bringing a sense of serenity and security when you need it most but this…

Her blue eyes are red and puffy from crying and she’s shaking miserably against your body. She scratches at her wrists and picks at the bandages, her bottom lip trembling. Her gun is set beside her, not in the holster she usually carries it in.

“(Y/N),” she sobs, her voice cracking. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“What happened?” You demand. “Where’s Spencer?”

“I’m so sorry,” she repeats, shaking her head. “I tried–”

“Where is he, Jennifer?” You ask, pulling away from her like she burned you. “Where is he?”

She sobs again, clutching her head. “I don’t know, we separated–”

“What do you mean you separated?!” You’re trying not to scream. Your thoughts are running a million miles an hour. Spencer is gone. He’s gone. “Why would you do that?”

Jennifer lets out a wail, trying to explain herself through broken words. “We didn’t– he said– I’m sorry I’m sorry–”

“‘Sorry’ doesn’t bring him here, does it?” The words are harsh and low, and you tug at your collar again. “He’s not here, Jennifer! Does that mean nothing to you?!”

“(L/N), that’s enough.”

Hotch’s voice makes you snap your head in his direction and you see red.

“I told you I should have gone with them,” you snap, and it doesn’t even occur to you that this man is your boss. “If I went with them, Spencer would still be here right now!”

“(L/N).”

“No.” You glare at him menacingly, too deep in your anger to even comprehend anything else. “He should be here right now! He should– he should be spouting out statistics or coming up with some theory! He should be here and he’s not!”

“We’ll find him. Trust me.”

“I did!” You yell, your voice fervent. “I trusted your judgement! And look where that got us. Spencer is gone. He’s not here, Hotch, because I trusted you!”

“(Y/N), enough.” Hotch is firm and he stares you down. “That is enough, do I need to remind you who you are speaking to?”

In an instant you stop, your heart lurching and you quiver. “... This is my fault.”

He immediately shakes his head no. “It’s not your fault.”

“I should have gone with him. I should have– it’s my fault. It’s my fault.” Your eyes well with tears and you tug at your hair erratically. “He can’t be gone. He’s not gone. He’ll figure something out. Why didn’t I do something? I should have–”

“Stop it. (Y/N), stop.” Hotch grips your shoulders squarely, bending down so that he’s eye level with you. “Take deep breaths.”

Your lungs burn as you try to breathe, hot ragged breaths leaving your lips shakily as you cover your face with the palms of your hands. Tears fall down your cheeks and gather in your hands as you make a desperate attempt to calm yourself down. It’s all too much. The sky is pitch black and the feeling of cold rain stings and bites your skin. The sounds of sirens fade away and for a moment it’s just quiet. Quiet, except for the words and the voices that swirl in your mind.

“A man that matches Hankel’s description was spotted in the next town over.”

Derek’s words bring you out of your thoughts and you manage a soft, “What?”

“Alright,” Hotch nods, before turning back to you. “Go back to the police department.”

“What?” Your ears are ringing. You must have heard wrong. “No. No, no, I can’t– no, Hotch, I’m not going back to the police department. Spencer is missing.”

“You’re too close to the case.”

A humourless laugh leaves your lips as you stare at him. “We’re all too close to the case, Hotch. Look around!”

“You attacked JJ and you raised your voice at me. I want you to go back to the police department and work the case from there.” He speaks to you as if he were speaking to a child and it makes you feel sick.

“Oh, so you’re punishing me?”

“No, I’m using you,” he says firmly, and then his voice softens. “It won’t do you any good to be here, (Y/N), you know that.”

“Aaron,” you try again, your voice wavering. “Please, don’t do this to me.”

“Go back and find us something that we can use.” He turns to one of the policemen. “Make sure she gets there.”

The policeman nods, tipping his hat, and gesturing for you to follow him.

“Wait I– let me talk to JJ. I need– just, please,” you say quickly, clearing your throat. “Sir.”

He’s sceptical before nodding. “Go ahead.”

You don’t need to be told twice. In moments you turn back to the ambulance, letting out a heavy breath. “I’m sorry.”

JJ shakes her head adamantly. “No, you’re right. It was my fault.”

“It’s not,” you say quietly. “I know Spencer and I know you. It was… probably his idea to split up.”

She smiles wryly, fiddling at the bandage on her arm.

“It’s not your fault,” you say again. You’re not sure who you’re trying to convince anymore. “You went through something too and I ignored that and that wasn’t right of me. I’m sorry.”

JJ sniffles, pursing her lips. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you respond quietly, patting her arm. “I need to go. Um, Hotch wants me off the case, or something.”

She nods. “Okay.”

You look at her again, the guilt building like bile in your stomach. “I really am sorry.”

“I know,” she whispers, wiping the tears away from her eyes. “We’ll find him.”

You don’t respond.

***

Everything hurts. His head is pounding and he can feel the sticky blood drip from the side of his head and against his cheek. His feet hurt from each thwack of wood, and his wrists hurt from the handcuffs. It’s cold. So, so cold, and he feels so weak. No amount of knowledge or training could have prepared him for this.

Spencer’s throat throbs from crying. No matter how many times he tries to convince whatever personality is taking over Tobias, it never seems to work. What’s the point of being a profiler if he can’t even save himself?

The creaking of the door brings him out of his thoughts and he jolts. Tobias, at least who appears to be Tobias, enters the room carrying a slaughtered animal. A shiver runs down Spencer’s spine and all he can do is watch.

“You need to eat,” the man says, his voice strangely soft and oddly calm.

“What’s your name?” Spencer asks, his voice small.

The man looks back at him. “Tobias.”

“Tobias, who was here before?” The fear is obvious in his voice and Spencer just wishes for an ounce of Hotch’s stoicism or Derek’s bravery.

Tobias chuckles weakly. “It was probably my father. I’m sorry if he hurt you.”

Before he could comprehend his movements, Tobias takes off his belt and walks over to him. Spencer fears the worst. Did Tobias’s father take over again? He tries to inch away, struggling against the restraints as best he could.

“W-What are you doing?” Spencer asks shakily, trying to pull away from him.

Tobias doesn’t respond, slipping one end of the belt above his elbow. Everything begins to click.

“No, no. Don’t. Please, please don’t.” He resorts to begging.

In this moment, Spencer hates the way his mind works because he doesn’t need to know the statistics. He doesn’t need to know that 75% of drug abusers started out using pain killers. His head swirls with what Tobias could be using. Codeine? Heroin? Opium? The list goes on and he tries to keep his breathing steady.

“It helps,” Tobias says, ignoring the way Spencer trembles and shakes his head adamantly. “Don’t tell my father. He doesn’t know they’re here.”

Tobias takes the syringe and the bottle out of his pocket and Spencer sobs even harder. He tries to appease him again, shrinking away as best he could in his chair.

“Please,” he tries again, his chest heaving and tears wetting his waterline. “Please, I don’t want it, I don’t want it.”

“Trust me. I know.”

“Please,” he begs, tears slipping down his cheeks. “Don’t.”

Tobias doesn’t listen.

The effects are far too quick for codeine, heroin or opium and Spencer can feel it hit. He knows it’s wrong. He can go on for hours about the statistics about it but the feeling so euphoric that he can’t help it. And then he sees it.

“We have another recruit as well. Came in a couple weeks ago,” Derek told him, walking him through the halls of the BAU headquarters. “She’s part of the academy Honours program. Top of the class, apparently.”

“Oh.” Spencer nodded slowly, fidgeting with the zip of his bag.

Derek grinned. “Relax, kid. You still have the most impressive résumé. She’s just an intern; doing paperwork, mainly.”

“I wasn’t– I wasn’t worried about that,” Spencer stammered, wetting his bottom lip. “I mean– not that I think she isn’t smart or anything. I just meant–”

“Kid, I mean it when you have to relax,” Derek snorted as he opens up the door to the bullpen “Meet the rest of the team.”

He walked through the doors, ready to make his mark. He’s spent so long believing that he was nothing but now… he took another step, meeting Hotch’s gaze and– he didn’t get very far when something catapulted into his side. There was a flurry of paper work and cream coloured files, case details splayed all over the floor. Spencer grunted a little, tumbling to the ground like a house of cards.

“Oh, my God, I am– I am so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going and I was running and I am not used to office attire! I am so sorry!”

The ramblings of a girl– she couldn’t be older than him, at least, not by much– filled Spencer’s ears and he grimaces. “No, it’s– it’s okay. Don’t– uh– don’t worry about it.”

“(Y/N)...” JJ huffed out a quiet laugh, helping the other girl to her feet. “Are you guys okay?”

“I’m okay,” Spencer said, slowly getting to his feet.

The girl didn’t do the same, instead scrambling to pick up the multitude of papers that litter the floor. “I’m fine! Just– great. Great. Brilliant.”

Spencer immediately started to reach for the papers, trying his best not crumple them up anymore than they already were. “You’re… the intern?”

“Is it that obvious?” You ask, breathless. “I’m still getting used to all…” You gesture wildly to the interior of the bullpen. “... this.”

“(Y/N), meet Doctor Spencer Reid. He’s the youngest addition to the team. Reid, meet (Y/N) (L/N). She’s part of the Academy Honours Program,” Gideon introduces, peering at the two of you from behind his glasses.

“Hi,” you said meekly, stretching out your hand.

His words hitched in his throat because once he’s gotten past the flying papers and the fact that you literally ran into him, he realises just how beautiful you are. You were right there in front of him, close enough to touch but–

“I don’t shake hands,” he said quietly, the anxiety gnawing at his stomach. His fingers twitch at his sides and he moves them to grip the handle of his satchel. “Sorry.”

You smile at him and his heart thunders in his chest. Is this how Romeo felt when he met Juliet? Or how Charles Bingley felt when he met Jane Bennett?

“It’s okay,” you told him, tucking the papers under your arm. “Don’t worry about it. So, you’re a doctor? That’s really cool!”

“Reid here got accepted into the BAU without even taking a physical exam,” Derek chimed in, practically bragging about Spencer’s intellectual prowess. “Isn’t that right, kid?”

“I’m not an athletic person,” Spencer said awkwardly, his worries dissipating when he heard you laugh good-naturedly. Regardless, he felt the urge to defend himself. “I’m not weak.”

JJ laughed along. “We know, Spencer.”

“I’m not weak… I’m not weak…”

“I don’t give a damn whether you’re weak or strong.”

Spencer barely manages to blink his eyes open as he hears the familiar timbre of Tobias’s father’s voice fill the room. He’s slowly coming down from the high of the drugs and the room spins as he does.

“Yell all you want boy,” Tobias sneers, bending down so that he’s eye level with Spencer. “Ain’t no one gonna hear you where you are.”

As if to prove his point, he begins to scream. Deep and rumbly, and it jolts Spencer back to reality. He wishes he was careful. He wishes he was with you.

***

“Tobias has dissociative identity disorder,” Garcia explains to you through the phone, and you slap a hand to your forehead.

“That makes so much sense,” You mutter to yourself, pacing around the room of the police department. “I should have seen it. It was right there in front of me and I missed it.”

Penelope hums, her voice tense with worry. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. No one knew until we started digging into the journals and cross-checking dates.”

“I know but–” You rub your eyes, cringing as stars litter your vision– “it was just so obvious. What else have you gotten?”

It has been a little over ten hours since Hotch sent you back to the police department and you haven’t gotten much sleep. You tried, you swear you tried, but every time you see the terrified face of Spencer and it makes you sick. The whiteboard in front of you is littered with different evidence files and profiles. Profiles on Tobias, profiles on the victims, geographical profiles… the list goes on.

“We know that Tobias is an addict,” Emily says. “He picked dilaudid as his poison.”

“For someone so hellbent on following the Bible, he’s incredibly hypocritical,” You say, jotting down the words onto the whiteboard.

“His personality is split into that of his father, Charles, and Raphael,” Emily continues, and you can hear the frown in her voice.

You’re about to say something when Garcia’s voice raises by an octave.

“Oh God,” she squeaks, and you can hear the clicking of keys in the background. “Morgan? Emily, get the others, oh my God!”

“What’s going on?” You demand urgently, gripping the phone tighter. “Garcia, what’s going on?”

“It’s Spencer,” her voice is hushed and far from the speaker, and your heart sinks to your stomach.

“What happened? Penelope, what happened?”

“We have to go,” she says hurriedly, and the sound of footsteps from the rest of the team fill the speaker.

“No! Wait, don’t hang—“

The sound of the prolonged dial tone echoes in your ears and you resist the urge to scream. You press the pads of your fingers to your eyes, hot tears wetting your skin. Crying will get you nowhere and you know that. You know that Spencer is holding on. He’s relying on the BAU to save him.

You gather all the available files on Charles Hankel, spreading them around the table. There’s not much to read; he’s lived a relatively quiet life. He was a farmer, his wife left him… dead end. Again. You’re at your wit’s end and you grab your keys.

“John, want to work on a federal case?” You ask, shaking your keys. The younger policeman nods eagerly and you point to the door. “Great. Let’s go.”

It’s a small country town in Atlanta. Someone has to know something, especially if Tobias was a drug abuser.

“We’re going to a few Narcotics Anonymous groups,” You explain to John who looks a little too excited to be sitting in a federal car. “Ask questions on Tobias Hankel and Charles Hankel. Someone has to know something.”

“All due respect, um, ma’am,” John stammers, and you raise an eyebrow amusedly. He coughs before continuing, “why aren’t you with the rest of the team?”

You falter, turning your attention back to the road. “They need me to work it from here. It doesn’t matter, anyway.”

Two miserable hours pass by with not much luck. Two hours that could have been used for something more meaningful than asking a bunch of drugged up assholes about the UnSub. Anxiety claws at your chest again as you flick through the answers. It’s nothing you didn’t already know.

“I got something,” John says a little breathlessly, jogging back over to you.

“Yes?” You need something. Anything.

“A few sheep were stolen off of a farmer’s property,” he says, flipping through the notebook and reading off his scrawny handwriting. “Wasn’t Charles a farmer?”

“What does that have to do with–” You feel your mouth go dry and you turn to him. “Which farm?”

“Which– um…” He swallows. “Mcallister? Shawn Mcallister.”

In seconds you’re dialling Garcia again and she picks up with a trembling, “hello?”

“Is Spencer alive?” You ask firmly, slamming the car door.

“Y-Yes. He’s– it’s not good, (Y/N),” she whimpers, clicking on the keyboard. “There was another murder. Spencer had to– he had to– he had to choose who to save. The UnSub fed a video to us, (Y/N), it’s horrible.”

There was another murder? John seizes up beside you and you grimace. You keep forgetting that John is practically a kid, barely twenty-one, and he hasn’t even seen the horrors of the world yet.

“But he came back, right? To Spencer?” You ask, gripping the steering wheel tighter in an effort to keep yourself steady. “Penelope, Tobias posted a video of the latest murder, right? When was it posted?”

“9:23,” she says woefully, typing away.

“Okay, and…” you check the police radio, biting your lip nervously. “Okay, it says that the call for the murder came in at 9:04.”

There’s a little static in the background along with some shuffling before she responds. “Um… okay?”

“John, I need a map. Where’s– goddamn it– where’s the map of the area, John?!”

He fumbles, spreading the paper open. “Here!”

“That road– it’s 60 miles an hour, right? That means he needs to be–” you scribble across the map, frowning. “That’s within seventeen miles of the crime scene. There’s a farm, uh, poaching or something. Mcallister farm?”

“We’ll find something,” Penelope says quietly. “I’ll try find the farm area. He is going to be okay, I promise.”

You let out a heavy breath. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

***

The guilt alone is enough to kill him. Spencer knows that he is not at fault for this; Gideon said so. Regardless, he can’t get their faces out of his head. They were happy. What if they had kids? They were good people; they didn’t deserve to die the way they did. Spencer’s head pounds as he slumps against the chair, his breath quickening when he realises that Tobias is right there.

“Sorry, I had to leave for a while,” Tobias, the real Tobias, says quietly, strapping the belt to Spencer’s arm again.

He’s felt this so many times now. The high, and then the inevitable low. There’s no point fighting it, Spencer tries to justify, it’s biology.

“You can leave again,” he says softly, “and you can take me with you.”

“My father would be angry,” Tobias says, drawing the liquid up the syringe.

“Not if he can’t find us.”

Tobias scoffs. “He always finds me.”

“If you tell me where we are, my friends will come and they’ll save us,” Spencer pleads, trying to look him in the eye.

“We can’t be saved,” he says dismissively, flicking the syringe.

Spencer sniffles, and for a split second he feels the fear course through his veins. “We can. We can, I promise, if you tell me where we are I’ll save us both.”

“Listen to me. It’s not worth fighting.” Tobias pauses, readying the syringe. “Tell me it doesn't make it better.”

The silence that follows is humiliating. He hates the way that he isn’t fighting anymore but he can’t. It’s almost as if his body doesn’t even want to listen to him. Tobias doesn’t waste another moment and the familiar feeling of artificial ecstasy floods Spencer’s mind.

“Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

The phrase was so unfamiliar and Spencer’s brows furrowed as he looked at you. It has been a couple weeks since you were officially indoctrinated into the BAU and he couldn’t be any happier. It felt nice to talk to someone who was his age, especially because he never really knew anyone of his age back in Las Vegas.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

You laughed and his heart fluttered in his chest. He remembered the feeling distinctly; how could he forget? The feeling is still the same now.

“I mean… tell me something not a lot of people know about you. Like… okay, I’ll go first. Um… my favourite flowers are hydrangeas. The purple ones.”

He committed that information to memory. Every year for your birthday he would buy you a new pot of hydrangeas for your apartment or something flower related like an automatic waterer or a replacement sun lamp.

“Hydrangea macrophylla,” Spencer said slowly, his cheeks flushed. “It means… gratitude, grace, and beauty. It’s fitting.”

He relished in the way your eyes lit up and the way you smiled at him. “Okay, your turn. Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

“Um… my middle name is Walter?” He chuckled awkwardly, wetting his bottom lip. “No one really calls me that, though.”

You typed something on your computer, reading out loud, “The name Walter is Germanic in origin and means ‘commander of the army’.”

His cheeks burned in embarrassment and he nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

“I like it.” You grinned at him. “Walter.”

Spencer choked a little, the hairs on his neck standing on end and heat crawling up his cheeks. “You– you don’t have to call me that.”

“I won’t if you don’t like it,” you told him.

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” he said quickly, his eyes widening. “I’m just not used to it.”

He remembers the way you beamed at him and the way he felt knowing that he made you happy.

“Well then,” You began, meeting his gaze, “I guess that means I just have to call you that more often.”

Tobias’s yelling brings him back and all he can do is stare as he watches him slam on the keyboard angrily. A bright red pop up is flashing on his computer, and Tobias turns to Spencer with a murderous scowl.

“They’re trying to silence my message.”

“I can’t control what they do,” Spencer defends tearfully, his voice wavering. “I’m not with them, I’m with you.”

Tobias scoffs again. “Really?”

He types something onto the keyboard and Gideon’s face show’s up on the screen. He’s leaning towards the camera, his words a mantra that Spencer repeats in his mind.

“Reid,” the crackly audio sounds with Gideon’s voice, “if you’re watching, you’re not responsible for this, understand me? He’s perverting God to justify murder. You are stronger than him. He cannot break you.”

Tobias slams the computer off, walking back to him. “You think you can defy me?”

“I don’t know what he’s talking about–”

“You’re a liar!”

Spencer can only grimace in response, the words caught in his throat. Tobias must have been able to see something and the fear creeps into his heart again as the man lunges for his arm. Tobias forces Spencer’s sleeve up and the guilt crashes like waves.

“You’re pitiful,” Tobias sneers, “Just like my son.”

Spencer wracks out a sob, silent pleas of mercy never leaving his lips. Maybe he does deserve this. Maybe, in some sick and twisted way, the universe is out to get him for all his shortcomings. Maybe, he thinks to himself as he watches Tobias turn the camera on, maybe he does deserve to die this way.

“This ends now,” Tobias snarls. “Confess your sins.”

“No,” he whimpers.

Tobias’s fist collides with the side of Spencer’s face with a resounding slap.

“Confess!”

“I haven’t done anything…”

His fist meets Spencer’s cheek again and all he can do is recoil in his chair.

“Tobias, help me,” he manages, but his plea is shut down almost instantly.

“He can’t help you, he’s weak. Confess!” He hits him again and the pain is almost too much to bear. “Confess your sins.”

Spencer sobs. “No…”

In a fit of anger, Tobias throws Spencer to the ground. It hurts. Everything hurts as he feels the back of his head meet the cold musty ground. He can’t breathe. He feels like he’s underwater. Have to breathe, he needs to breathe, why can’t he breathe? He needs to see you again. He can’t die like this. He can’t, he can’t, he needs to breathe. He tries to take a breath of air but it’s like his mouth is full of water. And just when he thinks he reached the surface, he’s pulled under once again.

Warmth. The feeling of his blood pumping to his ears is the first thing Spencer feels and his fingers twitch. He’s alive. There’s only one reason why that must have happened.

“I was given CPR,” he rasps out, Tobias’s words swirling in his head.

“There are no accidents,” Tobias says slowly. “How many members are in your team?”

Spencer can barely whisper the word. “Eight.”

“Seven, not including you. ‘The seven angels who had the seven trumpets prepared themselves to sound. The first sounding followed hail and they were thrown to Earth’.” He hoists Spencer’s chair upright, standing before him. “Tell me who you serve.”

“I serve you.”

“Then choose one to die.”

Spencer blanches, looking up at him. “What?”

“Your team members. Choose one to die.”

He doesn’t need to think when he responds, “kill me.”

Tobias jeers. “You said you weren’t one of them.”

“I lied.”

“Your team has seven other members. Tell me who dies.”

Spencer breathes in as if it were his last. “No.”

Tobias pulls out a revolver from his jacket pocket, spinning the cylinder before aiming it for Spencer’s head. “Choose, and prove you’ll do God’s will.”

“No.”

Tobias clicks the trigger and nothing happens so he repeats, “choose.”

“I won’t do it.”

The trigger clicks again and nothing happens. “Life is a choice.”

“No.”

Spencer’s mind is racing. His first thought goes to you. He knows you would understand any and all references he throws in your direction, but it makes him sick just thinking about putting your life on the line. He needs something. He needs to think.

“Choose.”

“I choose…” his voice stammers and he can barely see straight. “Aaron Hotchner.”

***

“We got him.”

The words echo in your mind as you pace up and down your hotel room, chewing on your destroyed nailbeds. It’s nearing two in the morning and you can’t sleep. The rest of the team are awake. Why should you be given the privilege of rest when none of them were able to? Why should you be given the privilege of rest when Spencer is out there fighting for his life? It’s not fair. Life isn’t fair.

When you hear the sirens outside you run out the door. Blood is pulsing in your ears and you’re still wearing the thin hotel slippers but it doesn’t matter. How could anything else matter? The car door clicks open and Emily helps Spencer out of the car. She whispers something to him and he looks in your direction. Those big hazel eyes stare at you with so much hurt and you can’t contain it anymore.

“Spencer.”

His arms wrap around your waist, his nose pressing against your neck as he holds you, breathing in the smell of your vanilla perfume. He almost doesn’t believe you’re real. He pulls you impossibly closer, sniffling, and he can feel your fingers run through his hair.

“You’re okay,” you whisper, trying to be reassuring, but he can hear the way your voice cracks. “You’re okay.”

“I should have listened to you,” He whimpers, feeling the cold wet rain soak through his shirt. “I should have– I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be, Walter.”

The moment he hears that name spill from your lips he begins to cry. He’s okay. He’s with you now. You’re right here.

“I thought–”

You shush him for the first and last time, squeezing his arms. “It’s okay. You’ll be okay.”

He wonders how a person could be so warm. Even in the cold Atlanta weather you’re still so warm.

“Hotch wouldn’t let me work the case from the house,” you tell him quietly as you sit beside him on the bed. “Understandable. I screamed at him.”

He chuckles a little, flinching when you gently pull the bandage off the side of his face. He feels a lot better now that he’s clean, the shower more than necessary and he savours the feeling of warm water on his skin. The gash on his head is oozing sticky blood and you dispose of it accordingly, reaching into the first aid kit.

“It’s gonna sting a little,” you tell him, pressing a damp cloth to the wound.

He hisses at the contact, gripping your arm and he tries to change the subject. “Why did you scream at Hotch?”

You hum, continuing to clean the blood off his head. “I was mad at him.”

“It wasn’t his fault.”

“I know.”

You smile at him, applying a new bandage to his head. “It’s okay. I was able to help the case from here, anyway.”

“Stay with me,” he whispers, squeezing your hand. “Please?”

Your gaze softens. “Of course, Walter.”

He curls into your side, an arm wrapped around your middle and he breathes in the scent of your strawberry and honey shampoo. Your fingers curl in his hair, untangling the knots when your eyes flicker to your desk, the letter of resignation tucked inside your bag. He doesn’t need to know that. At least, not yet.

***

You knock at the door of Hotch’s office, chewing on your bottom lip. You remember being in this office for the first time four years ago when you were an intern; the way you shook with nerves and anticipation as you handed in your résumé for the honours program and then again when you were hoping to take the job full time. It’s ironic that you’re back at his office again, but for a very different reason.

“Come in.”

The breath that leaves your lips is shaky and you take a seat in front of his desk. “Hotch.”

“(Y/N).”

You place the pristine white envelope onto the desk,watching the way his face shifts from stoic to surprised.

“You don’t have to do this,” He says, not touching the envelope. “The situation at hand was stressful. No one blames you for reacting the way you did.”

“It’s not just because of that,” you say slowly. “You were right. I was too involved.”

He shakes his head. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” you say quickly, a humourless laugh slipping at your words. “I would have killed him.”

Hotch looks at you, his eyes meeting yours. “You wouldn’t have.”

“I would have,” you say surely. “After what he did to Spencer, if I had found him I would have killed him. And I would have– I would have slept well. I love this team, Hotch, but I can’t separate those feelings when I’m on the field no matter how hard I try.”

He’s quiet for a moment before nodding, rising from his seat. “I’m assuming it’s a two-week’s notice?”

You nod, also getting up from your chair. “Yeah. I– I don’t want to just leave, you know?”

“We’re going to miss you,” he says, walking with you to the door, “but this will be good for you.”

“I know.” You can feel the stares of the rest of the team through the glass and you can’t help but smile. “They’re horrible at being nonchalant.”

“They’re profilers,” Aaron chuckles. “Can you blame them?”

“I guess not,” you muse, pulling the door open. “Thank you, Aaron.”

“You always have a place here, (Y/N),” he says gently as you walk back down to the bullpen.

It doesn’t take long before the overflowing dam of questions burst and in moments Emily is crossing the room and sitting next to you.

“You’re leaving the BAU?”

You look at her with wide eyes before laughing a little. “You… are very good at your job, huh?”

“Oh…” Penelope tackles you in a hug, her arms tight around your frame. “We’re going to miss you.”

JJ sniffles a little, joining the hug. “Don’t forget us.”

“As if I ever could.” A bittersweet smile rests on your lips.

Derek hugs you as well, his chin on the top of your head. “Look after yourself, kid. We’ll make these last two weeks the best you’ve ever had.”

“If you ever need anything…” Emily begins slowly, squeezing your hands. “I’m here, okay?”

Gideon pats your shoulder lightly, a sad smile on his face. “You’re a good person. Never forget that.”

You nod, trying to blink away the tears that fill your eyes. “I know. Thanks, you guys.”

The opening and shutting of the BAU doors brings you out of your thoughts and the familiar head of brown hair stalking away makes your face fall. Gideon meets your gaze, gesturing towards the door. That’s all you need to run out of the bullpen.

“Spencer– Spencer, wait, please.” You tug on his arm desperately. “Please–”

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” He asks, his voice cracking. It has only been a few days since the incident and he looks a little better. The scratches on his face are still visible, but they’re fading slowly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I–” you falter, flinching at the pain and hostility in his voice. “It was never a good time.”

He scoffs quietly, rubbing at his arm. “You should have told me.”

“I couldn’t just randomly tell you,” you say, frowning. “How would that be fair?”

Spencer rubs his eyes, the dark bags beneath them even more prominent. “Why are you leaving?”

“I have to,” you say gently, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I love this job but I can’t do it anymore–”

“Why not?!”

“Because–!” You exhale, trying to calm yourself down. “Because I swore an oath when I took this job that I will put this country above myself. And I can do that. I would die for this country to protect the people in it, I will hunt down the people who make this country so unsafe and I will sacrifice myself willingly, but you? I can’t– I can’t lose you. If I had to choose between catching the UnSub and saving you, I would save you in a heartbeat. Even if that meant letting a bad guy go. Even if that meant more people would get hurt I would still choose you and I can’t let that happen.”

Your words deem him speechless and he shifts his weight on his feet. For a moment, all he can do is stare at you as your reasoning sinks in. It makes sense. He hates that it makes sense.

“So that’s it?” He asks quietly, finally looking you in the eye. “You’re actually leaving?”

“Not for another two weeks,” you tell him truthfully. “Besides, you can still text me. And call me. You know where I live so you can always visit.”

He bites the inside of his cheek anxiously, teetering on his feet before hugging you tightly, burying his nose into your hair. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

“I’m going to miss you too.”

His grip is tight around you and if you paid attention you could feel him tremble. “I can’t do this job without you.”

“Don’t say that,” you whisper. “You can, Walter. You’re stronger than you think you are.”

There are so many things he wishes he could tell you. You’re right here. He doesn’t have to yearn for your touch anymore because you’re right here in his arms. He wants to tell you so many things. Like how he adores the colour of your eyes, or the way you smile, or the way your hair falls. He wants to tell you how much he likes spending time with you and how he feels so good with you but he can’t. The words are at the tip of his tongue so how can he not say anything?

“I–” love you– “I’m really going to miss you.”

“Me too,” you whisper. “Me too.”

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soobnny · 10 months

Text

classmate au | park sunghoon

❝ what do you have for lunch today? ❞

alexa play 0x1=lovesong

in your head, he’s the love interest with 0 interest in you🥲😢😢😢😢

it’s bc he’s so DAMN famous in your school

yes he’s your classmate .. ltrly in the same room but u cannot make conversation with him

he sleeps in class when he can like he will be DOZED OFF !!!!

nobody rly approaches the pretty boy

you’ve heard he’s rejected a handful of people before

you wont make a move for sure

so why does Park Sunghoon drag his seat so he’s sitting adjacent of you

why is he pulling out his lunch box and putting it on ur little table

WHY IS HE EATING WITH YOU

you don’t say anything when he does it

and he doesn’t say anything either

honestlyyyy…. it’s a little awkward like wtf is happening rn this is a Simulation

BUT you’re eating lunch together

and guess what

it becomes a constant thing too 😭

like he’d just silently drag his seat and you know he’s on his way to your table to eat lunch

is it because you’re one of the few people who eat in the room instead of the canteen??

tbh WHO CARES

unattainable campus crush park sunghoon is in front of you and eating lunch with you for some reason

it makes ur heart go crazy becos !!???!!!

he doesn’t rly acknowledge anyone

it’s bc he’s always busy being exempted for some competition

he finally starts talking to you when he sees you watching a yuzuru hanyu video during one of your little lunch sessions

tbh it was just a small video on tiktok that u scrolled by and returned to bc wow that spin was so cool

it’s when he starts making convo that u find out he’s actually SO funny and so unhinged

he’ll start laughing to himself 😕😕

also will tell the most UNFUNNY dad jokes

you only laugh because his laugh is so loud and so unrestrained

tho you do tell him his jokes are horrible

and he makes everyday a mission to tell you a joke that’ll genuinely make you laugh

it becomes your thing

he’ll just randomly show up in front of u and start cracking the most terrible joke

“rip boiling water. you will be mist!”

cue his laughter

you: 😐😐😐 not funny didn’t laugh

then sunghoon becomes more of a friend… not some unattainable crush figure !!! a friend !!!

some of his favorite things to do with you are watching videos during lunch AND sharing earphones while you listen to music

your fyp on tiktok now is both of ur shared interests

you even have a folder on each of ur phones for tiktoks u wanna share to each other that u pass by when u aren’t together

no he doesn’t send u the link like a normal person

sunghoon waits until class to show u so he can see ur reaction face to face

and the whole listening to music ??? u’ll just be seated side by side and staring into the distance sometimes

spacing out is wonderful <3

so now instead of sleeping .. he’ll just offer u an earbud so you can put it in your ear and listen to him

has a secret playlist for u (u don’t know this)

the photo for the playlist is the only photo u have together btw

it was when u were checking ur face on ur front cam and he just suddenly appeared in the back with a peace sign

it’s adorable

he bugged u to airdrop the photo 9284 times that day bc u refused to at first

it’s so 180 the way you suddenly become friends with him !!!!!

another thing he does is laugh at how you enjoy playing candy crush, calling you a grandma as if he doesn’t act like an old man

and then he gets so invested when you let him try

will cheat to get more lives and fuck up your time settings on your phone

btw he always talks about you A LOT 😭

his friends will know everything about you before you even meet them

“so, what level are you in candy crush?”, jake would ask the first time you meet

“excuse me, what??”

“sunghoon talks about you aaaall the time, it’s getting a little silly. like i know your go-to order at a cafe.”

“yeah like isn’t ur favorite color ___”

u look at sunghoon like ?????? and he just has a guilty smile on his face

but he doesn’t deny anything

you’d be shocked to suddenly see him as your seatmate one day like he rly switched with the person sitting next to you

laughing at your test paper scores together is also a fun little activity the two of u do

and then crying as you cram study in one of ur homes or on call when it gets too late

“hey can u help me with this chemistry question”

“ok give me a minute”

would open up those white board apps and screenshare his phone to start helping u with a part he understands but u don’t

he was 828283 screenshots of ur calls together

btw you CANNOT go to the library

you know that if you go to a library together … yall are NOT studying 😭

also u enjoy just shooting each other questions back and forth before the test

u would also probably come up with ways on how to cheat im sorry like u guys will have this whole grand scheme only to chicken out of it when u actually take the test

anyways

one day, you ask him why he had suddenly started eating lunch with you

bc like !!!! u’re happy he did but why so suddenly yknow

you’re grateful tho bc now u have someone to text like 25/8 and call whenever u’re bored

BUT U WANNA KNOW WHY. what started it

“i don’t know... i’ve always wanted to talk to you. you’re always so funny in class”

“and you didn’t say anything because??”

“i was gonna say something then i totally chickened out and then it was too late to say anything…. thank god for yuzuru hanyu.”

asks u to be his gf while teaching u figure skating for the first time

bc u finally ask him like dude why r u ALWAYS absent from classes

he’s like oh no biggie i’m ltrly just an athlete that competes in national events 😹😹😹

WTF !!!!!!!!

u knew he was competing in something but he never mentioned Figure Skating before

he is a fraud of a Friend

“sunghoon what does our friendship actually mean to u … WHERE IS THE LOVE”

but then he’ll go .. “want me to teach you?”

he’s forgiven now

“teach me figure skating??”

“yes” and he’s SOOOOO excited about it

he helps you find which skates to wear like he makes sure u have right size so ur feet don’t hurt

doesnt let u borrow those polar bears to hold onto

he can be ur polar bear

tho, when u do get tired .. he finally rents one and lets u sit on it while he pushes u around

it’s so much fun

except for when you fall

tho … it’s important for me to tell you that when you fall on your butt, he has heart eyes

and he holds your hands the entire time

he asks u to be his gf when you skate ur way across the rink without his help

sunghoon got so happy he just blurted it out

“be mine”

BYEEEEEE ofc u say yes

tho u think he’s joking at first

he does repeat it when you eat ramen after .. he’ll be like r u actually fr ??? did u actually say yes to me ??? u wanna deal with my jokes forever ??

oh dear

you should invite yuzuru hanyu to your wedding honestly 😭 thank u to ur fyp

note. credits to user @.luvknow for the layout of this post! last of the series, let me know what you think!

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askdiscordwhooves · 4 months

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This update was drawn by me, @jitterbugjive

I want to address one thing that I KNOW some people are going to complain about because they've already complained about if it would happen, and that’s The Doctor and Derpy getting together in the end. I understand the concerns. This is in no way meant to say ‘your abusers will eventually change for the better if you just say the right things to them’. This isn’t that kind of story. These are special circumstances that DO NOT EXIST in real life where the abuser was under MAGICAL mind control. That’s not who he actually is and when he’s himself he’s not remotely an abuser. He is safe from having a relapse, the curse is gone and over with because the core Discord was killed while the fragment left over in their universe has been reformed.

Real abusers are not under any kind of puppetry or mind control when they do what they do, and no not even getting drunk counts as this because when someone is an abusive drunk they’re still choosing to get drunk when they are well aware of what they do when under the influence. If The Doctor did any of this abuse on his own terms, I wouldn’t have let them get back together. I’m an abuse survivor, I know better than that. When you try to compare completely fantasy scenarios that can’t happen in real life to.. Well, real life, you’re kind of reaching at straws at that point. Besides, this relationship wasn’t automatically better just because he returned to normal. Both of them suffered damage and trauma and both needed to navigate around it to be able to trust one another again. If there’s any kind of comparison to make, it’d be more like a loved one suffering a psychotic episode and doing horrible things they’d never do in their right mind. And some people are able to understand and forgive, while others are not. The pain of having a psychotic episode and saying and doing things that hurt people is really hard to overcome, it’s hard to trust yourself and it can be hard to make amends. But a psychotic episode does not dictate who a person is. It just doesn’t. And that’s the closest thing to reality this story is. I tried to handle this as best I could, because in my line of work recovery is the most important thing and I understand that someone coming out of a bad episode needs support and compassion (Unless they’re a terrible person in general) and there have been extreme cases where perfectly good people end up going as far as murder- even murdering their own children, but their loved ones are able to reason that they were sick and they are going to suffer great pain upon realizing what they’d done, and they are going to seek help. Maybe you wouldn’t be able to forgive someone who did terrible things in a psychotic state, and that’s within your right, but it doesn’t mean people who can forgive are any less valid. Listen, if a husband can be capable of not blaming his wife for killing their kids in a psychotic state (a very real event that happened rather recently, simply google “wife psychosis news killed children husband forgives” and you’ll find it), it's perfectly reasonable that someone can forgive someone who was under magical mind control.

If you are in a physically abusive relationship, you need to get out of it. The likelihood of this person changing for the better is extremely low, and you can’t cling to the idea of the rare few people who manage to work through these kind of things. Those are very special circumstances and in my opinion if there’s a relapse into violence after making genuine efforts to change, that should be the end of it once and for all. It shouldn’t be happening to begin with, it should not be tolerated. You matter, you deserve to be treated with kindness and compassion. Never let anyone tell you or make you feel otherwise. Please take care of yourselves, and DO NOT use this story as a basis for how to manage your own relationships, no matter how much you might think you see yourselves in it. This is fiction, and the scenarios in this story do not happen in real life. If you can’t discern reality from fiction, that is all on you, not me.

#discord whooves #doctor whooves #my little pony #derpy hooves #dinky #sparkler #warden #aurora #pierce #neosurgeon #carrot top #jack harkness #disclaimer

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norrisleclercf1 · 6 months

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Memories of Old and New

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Female!Reader x Lando Norris

Rating: PG-13

Words: 6.6K

Requested: Yes/No

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, talks of Charles's dad's passing, nothing else major really

Our Boy Series Masterlist / Previous: Letter 2 / Next: Come Home To Us

A/N: I changed when Lando joins the relationship to better fit the timeframe, some things might be inaccurate with proper real life events but I tried my best. This was a big boy and I hope you all enjoy it.

Charles knew it was stupid to ask Nico here; it would cause more trouble than anything. A part of Charles thought knew he needed to talk to Nico. To get this sense of his own closer. It was only suitable for him to do this by asking Elijah and Lando first. Lando was shocked; Elijah seemed impartial to the whole situation.

Lying in bed, Charles facing your pillow, a hint of you kept him together at night. He can't remember the last time you didn't sleep beside him after the first night spent in each other arms. That's a lie. He remembers the night he slept in a chair holding your hand and a little human. If he just closed his eyes, he could still see you, wearing those jeans and acid-washed shirt gently concealing your stomach.

Closing his eyes, he lets his mind wander, pulling him back into those good days. Even when they were terrible, they were still good days.

15 years ago, 4 months pregnant, January 2017

"Oh, god, so sorry." You shout, shoulder bouncing off of someone. Instenticvly, you cover your small bump, ensuring your little duck is okay. "Sorry, are you okay?" The French accent hits your ears, one that you know well. Anyone living in Monaco would know that voice. You see Charles Leclerc, Monaco's pride and a Formula 2 driver.

Blinking up, you notice him wearing black shorts and trainers shirt. "Are you okay?" He asks again. Shaking your head, you give him a weary smile. "Yes, of course. My apologies; I wasn't paying attention." Charles nods. He ticks his head to the side as he takes you in. Freezing, you feel the dread fill your veins. Does he recognize you? Shit, what if rumors spread to the F2 garage and everyone heard? Oh god, he knows about you and Nico, fuck he knows.

"I think I should be the one apologizing. I hope you aren't hurt." He nods to your slight bump. Cold water would've dosed you if possible, freezing those thoughts in your head. "Oh! No, no, really, I'm fine. They're," You stop, how do you say it. "They're just fine." You smile, laying a hand right where his little foot is resting. Charles smiles at you, "I'm Charles," He reaches out, waiting for your hand. "Y/n," You shy slightly, cursing, feeling that flutter in your chest.

"Y/n, pretty name. Listen, I really do want to apologize properly. Um, well, uh, would you like to meet up for dinner?" He asks, a kiss of blush on his cheeks, feet shuffling from side to side. "Um, I just got out of a serious relationship. I," Charles's eyes widen, and he shakes his head quickly. "No, no, I wasn't asking you out." He backtracks, but that's precisely what he was doing though. He'll never admit that to you, though. "Just thought as friends," He grumbles, fingers digging into the tense muscles of his neck.

"You don't know me. I could be a horrible person." You counter, walls raising and shackling down. "I don't believe that, but you seem like you need someone." Reeling back at the bluntness, he does look away, clearing his throat. "Shit, sorry that was rude." "No, it's okay. There's this little cafe. They have this nice blueberry muffin. Down the street and on the corner, next to a hair salon." You point, Charles's face lights up, nodding.

"That's my Mama's salon. I know that bakery." He smiles, and that similar feeling in your chest returns. "Is tomorrow okay?" "It's perfect," He sighs, leaving you to walk away. Yet, rounding the corner to your street, you notice Charles is still there and watching you.

7 months pregnant, April 2017, First Race of the F2 season

"You want me to join you?" You stretch out your fingers as Charles sits on the nursery floor, trying to build the crib. "Well, yeah, I mean, if you can. I know you're, um," He looks at your stomach, which has you arching an eyebrow. "A beached whale?" He groans, making a face at you, calling yourself that. "No! God no, you're gorgeous." Silence fills the room, you looking away as he turns redder than a Ferrari. "Anyways," Charles clears his throat, returning to the crib. "You're my best friend. Also, I want to be there in case you need me."

Being friends with Charles while pregnant hasn't been easy. Rumors spread quickly when photos of you two got out, and terror gripped you. It was a constant worry that Nico or anyone who knew the truth would reach Charles. His opinion of you would change, and he would leave you. "Y/n, ignore the rumors. I don't care that people think the baby is mine. They are, though," The last part is a ghost of words you don't hear. "It's not that, just." Whining, you hide your face in your hands. You want to tell him the truth, but he'd leave, and you'd lose the only good thing in your life right now.

"Y/n," Looking up, you feel Charles's finger dig into your knee, rubbing it in a comforting way. "I was just asking. if you aren't comfortable, stay here and watch." You can see the slight sadness in his eyes. Charles wants you to see him race, but your comfort is far greater than his. "I want to be there, Charlie, really I do." You whisper, covering his hand with yours. You two stay like that, in the comfort of each other's presence.

8 months pregnant, May 2017, Officially Asking You Out

Charles gathers himself up, holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. Pascale had cut his hair and had paid his father a visit. Standing at your door, you were expecting Charles just a lovely night with junk food and movies. Your due date was approaching fast, as were your anxiety levels. Charles was currently the only one who could calm you down. Taking one big breath, he stares at his clothes and groans. Wearing a Ferrari sweatshirt and joggers was not what he wanted to wear.

"Charlie, what are you doing standing out here?" Seeing the flowers, you rip the door open, freeze, and smile. "Oh, Charlie, you didn't have to." You smile, grabbing the flowers and waddling to the kitchen. Charles stumbles in after you, shocked as you've thrown his plans out the window. "What's the occasion?" You turn, and he stops. You're wearing one of his sweatshirts with some fancy pregnancy pants. Seeing you like this, he knows this is his future and that he wants this for the rest of his life.

"Go out with me, no, actually." He takes a breath as yours stops. "Be with me, be the one I wake up to for the rest of my life. The one I come to and can be myself. I want you to help me grow as a person, a driver, a father," He moves, placing his hand on your stomach, smiling when he feels a soft thump. "You're the one for me. Both of you are it for me. Whenever I'm asked about my future in those interviews, I first picture you and the baby. Not Ferrari, not a WDC, none of it. Just you and little Ducky. I know the person before me hurt you deeply, and it's changed you, but I can promise. I'll never be that person. I've waited, I've waited since you first bumped into me, and each time I saw you, the more I fell. You had me from the first smile." He finishes, not looking up, petrified to find your reaction.

"If you're asking to marry me, wait until I can fit into a wedding dress." You joke, wiping the corner of your eyes. Head snapping up, the two of you stare at one another. "I'll ask you to marry me later," He whispers softly, kissing your lips.

9 months pregnant, June 2017, Herve has passed

What do you say? Is there really anything to say? Charles arrived back home in his suit, sitting in the nursery. "Charlie?" You whisper, poking your head in the doorframe. You see him holding a little onesie. "He was so excited for me." He whispers, wiping his eyes. "I lied, Y/n. How could I have done that?" Sighing, you move, sitting down slowly next to him. "You didn't lie. You told the truth of something that hasn't happened yet." You whisper, fingers moving through his tangled hair.

"I lied, just say it. I lied to my father." He snaps, pulling away from your touch. Sighing, you let him move around as he gently lays the onesie down. "Charlies, stop." You whisper, placing a protective hand on your stomach. "I wanted him to meet them," He whispers, tears rolling down his face. "I wanted him to meet them too, but that's okay. He's watching over them before we can. Charles, please just sit down. You haven't slept since that day." You beg him, just wanting him to rest.

"I lied." He whimpers, falling into your arms as you two just sit in the nursery and cry.

July 6th, 2017, 2 am

Sitting up, the sleep that laced your mind was wiped away. "Charlie," You whisper gently, rubbing his shoulder to get him up. The same feeling that's woken you hits you again, this time slightly stronger. "Charles!" Grumbling, he turns over, eyes prying open. "What's wrong? Is it Ducky?" Eyes blinking slower as he's so close to falling asleep again. "I think I'm in labor." Your voice filled with fear and disbelief.

"Oh, you're in labor." He yawns, sitting up slowly. You watch him as he slowly wakes up and gives you a soft smile. "Labor, hm?" Leaning in, he kisses you, but then he heads to the bathroom, leaving you in shock at his lack of urgency. You wait a few seconds before you hear a scream and pounding feet. "Oh god, you're in labor!" He cries, "Thank you! This is the urgency I needed 2 minutes ago." You scream as he helps you up.

As Charles calls Pascale and the others, you arrive at the hospital, letting them know what's happened and where you are. "Father or friend?" The nurse asks Charles. You were currently asleep. The labor was slow and painful, but you could get some sleep. Charles looks at you, and the band around your stomach fills his ears with the best sound in the world. His baby's heartbeat.

"I'm the father," He whispers, taking a cloth and wiping some beads of sweat from your forehead. "Well then, I think you two will be wonderful parents." Charles smiles, unable to tear his eyes away from you or listen to anything else but that echoing heartbeat.

"I can't, Charles." You sob the pain too much as the nurses and doctor try to talk you into pushing again. Charles cringes, hating how much pain you're in as you scream another contraction ripping through your muscles. "Pierre wants to be the godfather!" Charles blurts, his nerves wracked and shot all to hell. He's a Formula driver, so this should be easy. Instead, this might be on his list of most complicated things.

"What?!" You cry, taking deep breaths, the burn of another contraction gathering. "I'm sorry, I panicked. But he does want to be the godfather." Reaching up, you grab his shirt, yanking him down to eye level. "Listen, I will not let that French bastard be the godfather. Ahhhh, Charles." You cry as you push, Charles holding your hand. Sighs fill the room, and you get wrapped in silence before this high, soft cry fills the room.

"Congratulations. It's a boy." The doctor smiles behind their mask. "A boy? It's a boy?" You ask, crying harder as Charles doesn't look away from you. Grabbing a wet cloth, he wipes you down. "You did so well, fuck I'm so proud of you," Charles whispers, slipping an ice chip past your lips. "Charles, please, is he okay?" You ask. "I'm sure he's fine, baby. I'm worried about you." A nurse smiles at the two of you. Her comment was correct. You two would be wonderful parents.

"Would you like to hold him?" Another nurse asks, holding a little bundle in their arms. "I can't, my arms. Charlie, you hold him first." You whimper, body aching. "I, but," Charles can't find the words as the nurse walks around and gently places the baby in his arms. Charles stares in shock as he looks down.

Looking up at him is a little boy with pure baby blues, a whisper of hair, rosy cheeks, and a little tongue poking out his perfect lips. "His perfect, he's..." Charles leans down, pressing his forehead against his son's forehead. "You're the best thing to ever happen to me. You and you're mother both. I'll be there for it all. The first steps, words, date, all of it. You're, damn." Charles gets choked up and clears his throat. You watch through the haze of drugs and emotions as you watch your friend, lover, partner become a father right before you.

"Sorry, but we need a name." Someone whispers, you two facing the person. "You pick," You whisper back, thumb rubbing on his little cheeks. "Me?" "Yeah, you," You laugh but then hiss in pain. "Elijah, Elijah James," Charles whispers the two names of the sons he would've named. "Perfect."

July 8th, 2017, Paying a visit

"Okay, well, he's my grandson," You hear a thick Finnish accent behind your door. Moving slowly, you shuffle to the door and open it slowly, Charles away to Spielberg, having missed Friday to be with you. But you pushed him to go to the race that you'll be discharged when he returns. "Isä?" Shock apparent on your face seeing your father.

"Minun pieni tyttöni," Mika sighs seeing you as he nods at the nurse. Gently pushing you back, he slips into the room and looks down at you. "Look at you. Are you okay? No problems? Baby, and you healthy?" He rattles off, fixing his glasses and hair. "Of course, Isä. 7 pounds and 8 ounces. A set of lungs, but he's a sweet boy." Mika holds your arm, helping you walk back to bed. "A boy?" Mika asks, pride swelling in his chest.

"Yes, a little boy. Elijah James." You smile, touching the bassinet and watching your son sleep. "Hmm, I assume he'll share our name, yes? Not Rosberg?" Mika bites, smiling down at the little boy. "Actually," Mika looks up and smiles gently, his hand comes up cupping your face. "My little girl, not so little anymore." He takes a deep breath and leans down, kissing your forehead. "That boy has no idea how lucky he is. Does he, does he know everything?" Mika asks, worry, mirroring your own.

"Some, not all. I'm using Äiti maiden name." Mika hums, removing his hands. "Well, you'll tell him soon enough, yes?" Mika asks, tired of hiding away from you and now his grandbaby. "Yes, soon." Worrying your lip between your teeth, you look away, turning your back to him. "When you tell him, I'll be there," Mika whispers, kissing your temple, savoring this moment with his ever-growing family.

October 31st, 2017, Elijah's first Halloween, 4 months old

"I am not dressing him up in Ferrari gear, Charles." You sigh, zipping up the orange baby fireproof. Elijah gurgles and waves his fist, hearing Charles's name. "Why in the world did you pick McLaren?" Charles says with disgust, holding the little Ferrari race suit. "Because I've always been a fan of McLaren." Charles makes another face, "Since when? You've never told me you're a fan." He points out, standing at the edge of the bed.

Elijah smiles, making a noise as he reaches for Charles's finger. Charles flexes his finger, letting Elijah grab it, and starts to mouth it. Pulling his attention, Charles sighs, hating to admit how adorable his son looked in the little McLaren suit. "They were the first team I rooted for, and it's a gift. Besides, I figured you'd want to dress him in that when you join Ferrari next year?" You tickle the little boy's stomach, who screams and smiles with the same dimples as Charles.

"I'm driving for Sauber, not Ferrari." Tsking you move to fix your boyfriend's hair. "Charlie, trust me, you'll drive for them next year." You wink. Mika had called you and told you that Ferrari already had their sights on Charles. Thanks to some insider information, you told your father that you'd keep it to yourself. "I hope so. That way, I told the truth," Charles whispers, looking at the picture of him and his father.

"Hey, no more. Let's go show off our son." Charles's frown slowly turns up into a smile that fills his face. "Come here, ducky," Charles blows a raspberry on Elijah's chubby cheek, laughing with that perfect giggle as you watch the 2 men in your laugh leave.

June 9th, 2018, Meeting the Legends, Canadian GP, Elijah is close to his first birthday

Seeing you at the races started to become a regular thing. The drivers would see you and wave but also look for yours and Charles's son. An article not long ago had come out and revealed the fact you were already pregnant with Elijah when you and Charles got together. It's why you're at the race. Charles was refusing to let you out of his sight.

The drivers didn't care. To them, Elijah was Charles and yours. No one else's. Only a handful of people in your life knew the truth, and right now, one of them was parading around the paddock with you and the baby.

"Makes you want to have one?" You ask Lewis, who cuddles Elijah closer. "He's adorable, but it doesn't make me want to have one. It sucks you and Nico made such an adorable baby." Lewis whispers, waving at some fans. "Charles and I." You correct: acid on your tongue. "What?" Lewis turns, confusion etched on his face.

"I said, Charles and I. Elijah is Charles's son. No one else's." Lewis nods, seeing the way your entire demeanor changes. "Right, you're right." Lewis drops it after that, stopping for Toto and Susie, who coo at your baby. Walking on, you and Lewis catch up, stopping for the occasional fan. "Being promoted to babysitter, eh Lew?" You stop, turning to see Sebastian decked out in his standard Ferrari gear, removing his sunglasses.

"No, but I'm sure I'd be better than you." Lewis snarks, but there is no anger or malice behind the words. Just playfulness. "Highly doubt it, now, who is this?" Sebastian asks, turning his attention to a drooling Elijah playing with one of Lewis's necklaces. "Elijah Leclerc," Lewis says, watching Sebastian's smile grow, leaning down to the baby's eye level. "Cutie like his mother, Y/n." Sebastian smiles, nodding in your direction.

Sebastian knew, but there was an unspoken silence between some older drivers to not say a word. It's hard for the older generation to not know who you were when you grew up around some of them. "That's right, you haven't officially met Elijah, have you?" Lewis asks, Elijah's blue eyes pulling away and finally acknowledging the new person.

Elijah whines, reaching out for the older German, practically leaping out of his godfather's arms. The three of you laugh as Sebastian happily accepts the little boy, who flops his head on Sebastian's shoulder. "Well, I feel betrayed." Lewis fakes, wiping a tear, as Elijah closes his eyes. "If he falls asleep on you, you're stuck with him." You giggle.

Elijah was one where if he fell asleep on something, don't you dare wake him. "That's perfectly fine. He'll steal all the girls' and boy's hearts." Sebastian's hand cradles him from Elijah's back to his head. Charles knew you were around, but what he wasn't expecting was to see you with his son and 2 of the greatest world champions of their generation.

"Y/n?" Charles walks over, shying away from the Mercedes and Ferrari drivers. "Shouldn't you be getting for qualifying?" His arms circle your waist, whispering a kiss on your cheek. "I was looking for you two; I didn't expect to see you with," His sentence trails off, taking in the image of his idol holding his son. "Charles, you've been impressive this season. Keep it up," Sebastian smiles, Charles tensing up as he nods, cheeks bright.

"I will, and soon I'll be racing next to you," Charles rushes out, a wave of confidence wrapping around him. The three of you look at Charles, shocked, who swallows and rushes off. He skids to a stop and returns, kissing Elijah's head and your lips before bolting off again. "Cheeky kid," Sebastian mutters, turning to see the puffed-out cheeks of the blonde baby. "Damn," Sending Lewis and you into a muffle of giggles.

September 14-16th, 2018, Singapore GP, The Seat is Mine

"He's retiring," Charles whispers like he can't believe that the Kimi Räikkönen was retiring, much less the contract sitting before him. "Charles," You pull his attention away from the stack of papers before him. Charles had called you in the middle of the night, saying he needed you in Singapore.

Terror froze your lungs the entire flight, thankful for Pascale taking Elijah and jetting off to your partner. "Ferrari, they've, it's," Dropping your bags, you rush to his side, which he welcomes as he takes deep breaths of your shampoo, a comfort to him. "What happened? Are you hurt? Sick? What's wrong?" Your mother instincts kick in as you check over him.

"Nothing, everything is great. Y/n," Charles moves you to the chair next to his, pulling it to face each other. Charles's shaking hands, cover yours. Taking a deep breath, he sighs and looks up, tears covering those gorgeous sea eyes. "Kimi is retiring or leaving. Who cares. But Ferarri has offered me the second seat. I'm driving for Ferrari in 2019." The tears slip down, mouth open, and you stare at him in shock.

You knew he'd one day drive for Ferrari, but you never thought it'd happen after his first season in Formula 1. "You're driving for Ferrari?" You repeat, the news still ringing in your ears. "I'm driving for Ferrari," He confirms, shaking his head up and down. "You're driving for Ferrari!" You scream, leaping out of your seat and tackling him. The two of you laugh and cry at the news, holding each other.

"I didn't lie. I told him the truth," Charles whispers into your shoulder, sending you both a fresh wave of tears. "That's right, Charlie, you didn't lie. You're driving for them. I love you." Charles pulls back, smiling as you two bump your heads together, laughing. "I love you too," Charles whispers.

March 31st, 2019, Bahrain GP. Orange is his favorite color

You swear Eljiah was doing this on purpose. The little boy loved walking, and anything bright pulled his attention. But nothing pulled him away from you or Charles like the color orange. All you did was turn to grab his goldfish and then back, and he was gone. Panic started to tingle through your body, but panicking would help no one.

Unable to tell Charles, the father would freak and demand the paddock shut down as they searched for the toddler. Quickly, you looked everywhere, shooting off a text to Lewis for the driver to keep his eye out. Running around, you are about to run into a wall when you see bright orange and the familiar giggle of your son.

"Elijah!" You cry in relief, dropping to your knees and smushing the poor boy into your arms. "I was going to bring him back, but he wanted to see the car." A British accent has you turning, meeting the eyes of Lando Norris, McLaren driver. "Owange, Mama." Elijah giggles, pointing to Lando's jacket. Standing, you clear your throat, gathering yourself.

"Thank you, but you should've brought him back when you saw he was alone." You chastize, Lando cringing as he nods, looking down at his feet. "Sorry," Lando whispers, nervously playing with the strings of his sweatshirt. "He was thrilled, and I didn't want to spook him. I knew he was alone. But I didn't want to freak out and then scare him. I know he's Charles's son. I was going to take him back." Lando explains, almost making himself smaller with each word.

Looking around, you see that Elijah is enamored with the McLaren driver. "Well, if you want, you can show him the car still." Lando's head snaps up as a bashful smile and nod of the head is your answer. Lando leads the way as Elijah squirms, wanting to be held by the driver rather than his mother. "Can you hold him? He won't stay still, and I need to text Charles." Not waiting for an answer, you pass Elijah to Lando's arms, who fumbles but then holds him awkwardly.

Elijah giggles and starts talking happily with Lando, who still looks shocked but nods. You quickly text Charles, saying you would be with McLaren as Elijah made a new friend, Lando Norris. Getting to the garage, the mechanics seemed confused about why Lando was with Charles Leclerc's girlfriend and son.

Elijah squeals and starts to wiggle, which has Lando set him down, watching the little boy run to the number 4 car. "Mama! Owange, mine!" Elijah giggles. His little arms extend as he lays against the car, which makes you laugh. Turning, you see Lando melting and moves, lifting the boy up and placing him in the cockpit. No one is paying attention anymore as they watch how Elijah listens to everything Lando says. No one even notices Charles enter the garage.

"I hope you aren't trying to replace me, Norris," Lando jumps, smacking his head on the halo as he turns, seeing Charles with his arms crossed. "No, no, I'd he just, he likes orange, and I figured, I'm sorry," Lando rushes out, which has Charles's smile dropping seeing the frantic state he sent the young driver in. "Hey, it's fine. I was joking. You didn't do anything wrong." Charles moves, uncrossing his arms as he goes to comfort the driver.

"Papa! Look," Elijah screams and starts making race car noises, making Charles into a puddle. "Ducky, be careful not to do anything wrong." Elijah nods, going back to "driving" the car. "Thanks for this. He likes orange and gets excited whenever he sees you or Carlos." Charles pats Lando on the back. You can't help but notice how Lando smiles, cheeks painted with a blush.

"If you ever want to, you can bring him here whenever you want. As long as Charles or I are with him." Lando faces you and nods. Elijah stops and stands up in the little seat. "Up, up!" He holds his arms out, Charles leaning down to pick him up. Elijah bats his hands away. "No, Papa! Up!" Elijah looks at Lando, who seems uncertain, but Charles laughs, nudging Lando. Leaning down, Lando picks him up better this time as Elijah points to the other side of the garage, leading the way.

"I guess I am being replaced," Charles whispers, but he seems happy about it, almost glad it's Lando. "Hmm, he'll get over him," You whisper, but Charles shakes his head. "I don't think he will,"

August 10th, 2019, Summer Break, Elijah is 2 years old. There's Enough Room for Three

"I want daddy!" Elijah cries, Charles himself wanting to cry along with his toddler. "Baby, you don't have a daddy. I'm Papa," Charles pleads, trying to get the toddler to bed. He's been inconsolable ever since he said bye to Lando. "Is he still crying?" You ask, arriving home from a night out.

"He keeps crying for Daddy, but I don't know who that is!" Charles yells, which has Elijah quiet, but then sets off a new whimper and tears. "Okay, go to the den. I'll get him to bed." Charles nods, leaving the room defeated. Heading to the den, he notices one of Lando's McLaren jackets. He must've forgotten it when he said bye and had to pull a crying Elijah off him. Lando wasn't staying in Monaco for vacation, heading out with friends to some island.

"He's stopped crying, but you're right. He keeps calling for Daddy; he's sniffling in bed, but I told him we'd be in the den if he needed us." Flopping back onto the couch, you close your eyes. "He started when Lando left," Charles whispers, lifting your head. You open your eyes and see Charles holding the jacket. "Really? Hmm, odd. I know we're all together all the time, but Elijah never once acted like this." Charles nods, a faraway look on his face.

"I don't like this. Lando should be spending the summer break with us." Charles's outburst has you jumping, shocked by this reaction. But it only confirms what you've accepted a long time ago. "He's not your boyfriend, Charlie. He's allowed to go out and party." You comment, seeing the way Charles makes a face. "Well, I'm sorry that our son is crying and can barely sleep because he left. He should be here, with us." He throws the jacket down while you bite your lip.

"You have a crush on him," Charles sputters out a no, his cheeks heating up, betray him. "Charlie, I have feelings for him too." Charles turns, raising an eyebrow. "Is that wrong? For us to have feelings for the same person while we're together?" Charles asks, joining you on the couch. "No, I'm pretty sure he has feelings for us too," attention is pulled away when the doorbell rings, and then the door is slowly pushed open.

"Hello? I forgot my jacket and used my key. Hope that's okay?" Lando's voice fills the silent hallway, and he walks down, stopping when he sees you two. "Oh, hey." "Stay with us." Lando and Charles speak simultaneously, a giggle passing your lips as they startle each other. "What?" Lando repeats. You sigh at the way they're acting. "Lando," You clear your throat, standing up.

"We both have feelings for you, more than just friends feelings. We want you to join our relationship if you are comfortable with that. If not, that's okay. But, we'd prefer if you stayed and joined our little family." You smile, Charles head down, as he was never good with words. "Really? I, yes." Lando, short on his words, smiles. "I've liked you both for a long time, too." Charles smiles, rubbing the back of his neck as Lando steps deeper into the den.

There is a cry and tiny thumps as Elijah stands in the enterway and cries. "Daddy!" Elijah screams and throws himself at Lando, who quickly pulls him into him. "Oh," You and Charles share a look before laughing. "Should've known." Charles stands, walking to Lando and Elijah. "Come on, let's put our boy to bed." Lando lets out a nervous giggle but heads to the bedroom.

November 16th, 2021, Takes place after Our Boy pt.1, Surprise! Another one.

"Hey?" Charles calls softly, Lando looking at him. "He's our boy. Elijah will have both our names. Okay, no one's last name." Charles whispers, settling this talk once and for all. "Yeah, yeah. But the baby has my last name first." Lando sighs, standing. "Fine, I don't care if the baby does," Charles grumbles, standing slowly with Elijah in his arms.

"Wait? What baby?" Charles yells, running after Lando, who giggles like a child. "Whoops, surprise?" As Elijah runs off to join you in the dining room, Lando asks, and Charles glares. "Dammit, Lando. I knew you getting a podium and the anniversary being close together wasn't a good idea." Charles smacks Lando but then pulls him into a hug.

"Is Y/n okay with another baby?" Charles asks, constantly worried about you and Lando. Making sure his little family was safe and happy. "Yes, she's excited. I'm hoping it's a girl. Make it even." Lando smiles softly as the two walk into the kitchen. "A baby?" Charles asks you as you walk into the kitchen for some food. Stopping, you smile, placing a hand on your lower stomach.

"Yeah, about 2 or 3 months." Charles laughs, moving as he picks you up, spinning you around. "I've never been happier," Lando smiles, joining the hugs and kisses. "Fuck, I love you both so much," Charles whispers, wiping his eyes as Lando kisses Charles gently before hugging you. "I hope it's a girl. You two would get so much hotter as girl dads." Lando shakes his head, but he knows it is the truth. "I can't wait." Nodding in agreement, you watch your partner's hearts grow even more.

December 10th, 2031. Elijah is 14, and Cecile is 9. I want to race full-time

"No. No way in hell are you quitting school." You snap at your 14-year-old son. Elijah's jaw tightens as he tries to remain calm, like what Uncle Lewis taught him. "Ma, I love racing. I want to do this, and school is in my way." Elijah tries to reason with you, but you stand firm in your decision.

"Elijah, you're 14. You need to figure out what you want. Besides, you have wonderful marks and could make something of yourself. Racing is, listen, this isn't up for argument. You're going to school, not quitting." Elijah wants nothing more than to scream at you, but he drops his head and bolts out of the kitchen, leaving you there sighing.

"Mama, he's excellent. Like Papa and Daddy good." You jump, holding your chest as you turn, seeing your little girl standing there. "Cecile, where did you come from?" She was supposed to be with her Uncle Pierre, not here.

"Papa picked me up early; we got books." She shows off the little tote bag, heavy from the books. "Oh," You swallow, knowing Charles definitely heard the conversation. "And where's Papa?" "With Eli." She shrugs and walks away, leaving you there with your thoughts.

Elijah groans, hearing knocks at his door. "Go away, Ma! You made your thoughts very clear!" He yells. Despite his protest, the door opens, not revealing you, but his Pa. "Oh, Pa." Charles steps into the room, closing the door with a soft click.

"It scares her," Elijah blinks, confused, unsure what Charles could mean. "Dad and I have been in rough crashes and races. We've lost family and friends from those races. But despite that, your Ma still comes to our races and supports us. With us, it's different. The worry, words, emotions, everything is different. But, with you." Charles moves, sitting on the bed, smiling softly.

"Those things are different. Her love is extra. Words, emotions, and support all of it. She wants to support you, she does, but all she can see is our baby getting into a dangerous and sometimes deadly life. She's not saying no because she thinks you couldn't do it. Trust me, she's well aware of your talent. She's saying no since it's her only way to protect you. Don't hate her for that," Charles whispers, ruffling Elijah's hair and making the boy smile.

"I don't hate Ma. I'm upset, but maybe it'll be better with you and Dad here as support." Elijah smiles, leaning into his Pa's side. "Nope, you're doing this one on your own. She's your mother, you can talk to her. Key word talk, Ducky. You can do this; don't let it stop you." Charles stands, leaning down. He places a kiss on Elijah's head.

"I love you, Ducky." "I love you too, Pa."

May 29th, 2033, Present Day. 3 Dads and 2 Fathers

"Is there anything you want to ask me?" Elijah is proud of controlling his features. Pa had called Nico over here yesterday. They all needed to talk, but it was really for Nico and him to talk. "Ask you something? No, I read your letter to Mama." Nico makes a face filled with regret, heartbreak, and a touch of relief. "Did you?" It wasn't a question meant for an answer.

Elijah looks outside, seeing his Pa, Dad, and Cece outside "tending" to the garden. They weren't where Elijah chose to talk. He knew being in the garden, you could hear everything. It was the perfect spot for his Dad to not worry and for Pa to immediately come to help if things got too much.

"Mama never opened it, so she doesn't know the truth." Nico opens his mouth, but Elijah interrupts him. "And I'd like if she never knew the truth, but that's not my choice. Grandpa told me what you said to her after Pa and Dad ran after me. You might be furious with her, but you had no right to that stuff. You're the one who left, and you left a fucking letter. Admit it or not, you took the coward's way out. The letter might be true, but you should've stayed and not left something so easily mistaken as a breakup." Elijah takes a deep breath, regaining control.

"Mama picked herself up, raised me, gave me endless love and support. I have Dad and Pa, two men who raised me to be an amazing driver, son, and person. You only gave me your looks. Thanks for that, by the way." Nico smiles. He had no right to be angry at Elijah for the utter lashes of words. "I'm the person I am because of them, not you. I might have 3 dads, but I have 2 fathers. And You're not one of them." Nico nods, looking outside to see Cecile giggle, wrapped in her Papa's arms.

"When I saw who your Ma married, a part of me was furious, but another part was relieved. She was happy, found love again, and I wasn't the one that broke her. But then, 3 days ago, when I saw her, that anger returned. I didn't want to mean those words, but I did. Something I'll need to apologize for." Elijah nods, "Well, you can't. She's not here." Nico whips around, confused.

"What do you mean not here?" "Pa, he kicked her out. We don't know where she went." Nico stands up quickly, slamming the screen door, which shocked everyone as he storms up to Charles.

"The fuck is your problem? You kicked Y/n out? What the fuck? That just adds to the list of people who broke and betrayed her! And I should know, I'M ON THE LIST! Now, you listen here, you go after your wife. She's probably in Vantaa. Mika has a home there." Charles and Nico glare at each other.

"I know. Mika texted me this morning that she was there. I already booked the plane tickets for Lando and me." "What about us?" Cecile asks as Lando smiles with pride at his husband. "You'll be staying with Grandmere." The kids break out into smiles as they rush inside, already planning on what to pack.

"Now, can you kindly do me a favor of leaving now? You talked to Elijah, so leave." Lando steps between the two men. "I'm not done talking with him," "Yes, you are. No more talking to our son without Y/n here. Kindly leave. Charles and I have to pack." Nico steps back, snorting, and walks off.

"So, when's our plane?" Charles smiles at Lando. "We leave tonight."

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

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olenvasynyt · 2 months

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Feyre is a shitty friend to Lucien if she’s ever been a friend to him at all

This is going to be a long post and yeah I have made two tiktoks about this already and yes people got very mad at me but I’m going to post in on here anyways!!

In Chapter 3 of ACOWAR, Lucien says, “You are a better friend to me, Feyre, than I ever was to you.”

And I couldn't disagree more. This is just so so wrong. I think Feyre has been such a shitty friend to Lucien if she’s even been a friend to him at all.

If you can’t handle criticism towards Feyre then just scroll past! And I have so many things to say but Feyre being a shitty friend definitely starts in ACOWAR. She’s constantly lying to him, making wrong assumptions about him, she uses him.

And I understand that is all for her plan to take down Spring; she can’t really tell anyone the truth because it’ll ruin her cover but a lot of the things she does concerning Lucien and how she’s his friend, are kind of fucked up.

Constantly lying to him and using him in Spring

Now I thought the nightmare scene with Feyre and Lucien was excellent and very entertaining to read but when you think about how Feyre is using Lucien, her “friend”, in a sexual way to get back at Tamlin and turning them against each other…it makes her a shitty friend.

Chapter 5 of ACOWAR: I waited the five minutes it took Tamlin to decide not to kill Lucien, and then smiled. I wondered if Lucien had pieced it together… A nightmare, I had told Tamlin. I was the nightmare. Preying on what Tamlin had feared from my very first days here… I had no doubt Tamlin was now running through every look and conversation since then. Every time Lucien had intervened on my behalf…weighing how much that new mating bond with Alain held sway over his friend…

And she continuously gets Lucien to touch her to goad Tamlin’s jealousy and also Ianthe’s jealousy. She does it very often while they’re in Spring: an example is when they sleep in the tent together. They basically end up cuddling each other and Jurian sees. And though it wasn’t on purpose, Feyre thinks about how it would be perfect if that got to Tamlin.

Chapter 6: I’d rolled onto Lucien’s bedroll at some point, any schemes indeed second to my most pressing demand—warmth. But I had no doubt Jurian would tuck away the information to throw in Tamlin’s face when we returned: we’d shared a tent, and had been very cozy upon awakening.

She is using him. She admits it when we get to the scene with Ianthe SAing Lucien.

Why she saved Lucien from Ianthe

And getting to this point soon:

So in an earlier conversation they have, Lucien talks about how he did the rite in Tamlin’s place and he completed it with Ianthe. Feyre can see that lines were blurred. Ianthe had continuously sought Lucien and she got what she wanted. And Feyre says she should have been there to stop it.

Chapter 3 of ACOWAR: He might have completed the Great Rite with Ianthe of his own free will, but he certainly hadn’t enjoyed it. Some line had been blurred—badly… The weight of that jeweled knife and belt seemed to grow. “I wish I had been there to stop it. I should have been there to stop it.” I meant every word. Lucien squeezed our linked arms as we rounded a head, the house rising up before us. “You are a better friend to me, Feyre,” he said quietly, “than I ever was to you.”

And this brings in the quote I brought up in the beginning. ANd I will make a whole separate post on Lucien’s inaction in ACOMAF but what he says just tells me that he feels guilty for not doing enough to help Feyre with Tamlin locking her up.

Feyre said she should have been there to stop it. Alright well, when the time came and she was given an opportunity to stop Ianthe, Feyre was thinking about how she could keep going and just leave Ianthe to SA Lucien and let it happen. She is going against her word. and that makes her a hypocrite and terrible friend.

Chapter 9: Keep going. They were distracted, horrible as it was. Keep going, keep going, keep going. “I thought you’d seek me out after the Rite,” Ianthe purred. They couldn’t be more than thirty feet through the trees. Far enough away not to hear my presence, if I was quiet enough.

And Feyre realizes that her using Lucien was a bad move, so Feyre’s guilt encourages her to save Lucien not out of any genuine friendship.

“You don’t act that way with Feyre.” A silk-wrapped threat. “You’re mistaken.” “Am I?” Twigs and leaves crunched, as if she was circling him. “You put your hands all over her.” I had done my job too well, provoked her jealousy too much with every instance I’d found ways to get Lucien to touch me in her presence, in Tamlin’s presence.

But another thing that causes her to save him is because this moment reminds her of when Ianthe assaulted Rhys.

I made it about a hundred yards into the cover of the trees before I halted. I heard Lucien first. “Back off” A low female laugh. Everything in me went still and cold at that sound. I’d heard it once before—in Rhysand’s memory.

and Lucien saying “do not touch me” is exactly what Rhys says and this is what pulls Feyre out of her plans to keep going and save him instead.

Chapter 21 of ACOMAF: Rhys learned close to breathe in her ear, “don’t you ever touch me. Don’t ever touch another male in my court.”

Chapter 9 of ACOWAR: “Do not touch me,” he growled. And then I was moving.

This moment is echoing Ianthe going after Rhys, from the way Ianthe acts to the hand-breaking situation because Feyre was replicating what Rhys did to Ianthe’s hand. And in my opinion, Feyre breaking her hand was not only revenge for Lucien but also revenge for Rhys. And that’s not inherently bad but Feyre is not saving Lucien because she’s a good friend and she cares for his well-being. If that were true, she would have never thought of leaving him to get SAed by her in the first place.

Not trusting him, questioning his priorities

When they’re traveling through Autumn she continues to not trust him, she continues to make assumptions about him and assume the worst. She questions his priorities when it comes to Elain and assumes that he’s only coming along to get what he’s owed. But then she wants him to have sympathy for her and Rhys as mates. It’s just very one-sided.

Chapter 12: “You kissed Under the Mountain.” “I had little choice in that as I did with the dancing.” “And yet this is the male you now love.” “He didn’t know—he had no inkling of the personal history, the secrets, that had opened my heart to the High Lord of the Night Court. They were not my stories to tell. “One would think, Lucien, that you’d be glad I fell in love with my mate, given that you’re in the same situation Rhys was in six months ago.”

Compare this to Chapter 11:

“And that’s why you’re here. Not because it’s right and he’s always been wrong, but just so you can get what you think you’re owed.” “She is my mate and in my enemy’s hands—“

So Rhys and Lucien were in the same situation: both had their mates in their enemy’s hands and want to keep them safe. Was Rhys only getting what he thought he was owed as well? No. So why can’t Feyre offer the same courtesy?

Again, ready to abandon him in Spring

And there’s literally a part when they're running in Autumn where Lucien basically asks “are you actually my friend?” and Feyre doesn’t answer.

Chapter 11: “You have the gall to question my priorities regarding Elain—yet what was your motive where I was concerned? Did you plan to spare me from your path of destruction because of any genuine friendship, or simply of fear of what it might do to [Elain]?” I didn’t answer. “Well? What was your grand plan for me before Ianthe interfered?” I pulled at a stray thread in the bedroll. “You would have been fine,” was all I said.

To actually answer your question, Lucien: she wasn’t planning on sparing you. She used you and was ready to leave you.

Lucien is a bigger man than me because I would have probably yelled in her face.

Again, uses him to get revenge against Tamlin

Also when he asks her where he’ll fit in in the NC,she thinks about how she would only offer him the position to keep Elain from Spring and to get back at Tamlin.

Chapter 12: “And where, exactly, do you believe I will fit in? The Night Court? I didn’t answer. I didn’t have one, honestly. As High Lady I could likely offer him a position, if we survived long enough to make it home. I’d do it mostly to keep Elain from ever going to the Spring Court, but I had little doubt Lucien would be able to hold his own against my friends. And some small, horrible part of me enjoyed the thought of taking one more thing away from Tamlin, something vital, something essential. “We should leave at down,” was my only reply.

Lucien is vital, but not because of his talents as an emissary and how he would benefit the Night Court. It’s because Tamlin wouldn’t have an emissary.

Feyre just lies to him and assumes stuff and uses him…overall, she’s just such a selfish friend and I’m fairly sure that she doesn’t even consider Lucien her friend at this part, despite several things that would go against that. Lucien seems to consider or had considered her a friend.

And then I got a part two because there’s just more things.

Being unwelcome when they get to Night

And now we are getting to one of my biggest gripes with Feyre. When they get back to the Night Court she has the reunion with Rhys. They almost immediately go off and have sex and sure, I get it: they’re mates, they haven’t seen each other in a while, they didn’t know if they would ever see each other again. It’s very emotional. But when they are done having sex, Feyre goes down and sees Lucien in the sitting room, still in his dirty clothes. Feyre thinks about how she should offer him something…but then the thought vanishes as soon as Rhys steps to her side.

Chapter 15: “Lucien was waiting in the sitting room when Rhus and I came downstairs at last… I fought my cringe as I halted at the threshold. Lucien was still in his travel-worn, filthy clothes. His face and hands, at least, were clean, but…I should have gotten him something else. Remembered to offer him— The thought rippled away into nothing as Rhys appeared at my side.

FEYRE. You literally just finished fucking him and putting on your wedding rings, stop thinking of Rhys and offer your “friend” some clean clothes, a bath, SOMETHING!!!! He has his face and hands washed probably because he washed them in the fucking kitchen sink because he doesn’t know where the bathroom is because no one has given him a tour and they still don’t give him a tour after this…

This is infuriating to me. So infuriating. It’s not only being a shitty friend but also a shitty hostess.

And then they have their talk where they explain everything to him, Lucien finally understands what has been going on, he knows that Rhys has been wearing a mask the whole time and that the NC is good…and then he is finally offered clothes and a bath. By fucking Rhys too not by Feyre.

Chapter 16: “I assume you’ll need clothes,” Rhys went on, nodding toward Lucien’s filthy jacket and pants—which he’d worn for the past week while we scrambled through territories. Indeed, that was…blood splattered in several spots.

Not communicating, having no important talks as friends or allies

And then the entire time Lucien is in Night, she does not try to have any meaningful talks besides the one where she and Rhys explain everything to him. She often says it’s for another time. But they never have any sort of conversation, even if it would just be beneficial as allies, if not friends.

There is a weird sort of mistrust for him. They not only don’t trust Lucien with Elain but also just information in general and this mistrust takes way too long to fade. From a political standpoint, I get it: he is / was a close friend and courtier to Tamlin, they did ally with Hybern. But Feyre acknowledges he was remorseful. And when they’re in Spring he speaks up and tells Tamlin his mistrust and dislike towards allying with Hybern. But Feyre just speaks over that.

And I just don’t understand this mistrust with Elain and assuming he’ll steal her away, which is what Rhys implies.

Chapter 19: “If he got Elain away, back to Spring or wherever…do you believe, deep down, that he wouldn’t sell what he knows? Either for gain, or to ensure she stays safe?” I considered his question: Did I trust Lucien? “I don’t know, either,” I admitted, and sighed. “I don’t like that Elain is a pawn in this.” “Did he discuss what he feels regarding Tamlin?” “Non. I didn’t want to push on that. He was…remorseful about what happened with me, and Hybern, and Elain. Would he have felt that way without Elain in the mix? I don’t know—maybe. I don’t think he would have left, though.”

But Lucien explained to Feyre that he hated how Elain was in an enemy’s hands and wanted to make sure she was okay and he knows now that the IC is good and she’s safe, but you still mistrust him? You are just completely ignoring everything and thinking the worst of him, and as I said before, not offering him the same courtesy you want him to have for Rhys.

Also Elain is a pawn because you are making her a pawn.

Lucien has good intentions. He wants to do good. With Hybern, he has not only explains his dislike for allying with them before to her but he sneaks off and sent stuff to Nuan for research to find a preventative against faebane. He goes to find Vassa to basically redeem himself, he says it was “about time he did something”.

And about Elain: Lucien is not demanding to see her. He literally just sits around on his ass and waits and is courteous. There’s no malicious intent. He is so kind and respectful. And if you are so mistrustful towards him that you set up rules for him to follow, maybe just ask him. Ask permission to look in his mind maybe?

Feyre and Rhys and the IC have a set of morals that they follow sometimes but then choose not to follow when it conveniences them. That is a whole other discussion in itself but literally so many things that went wrong with their friendship could have been solved if they actually talked and Feyre wanted to listen to him.

When Lucien and Elain finally talk one-on-one and Feyre goes into his mind (again, out of mistrust), Feyre discovers that Lucien has no ill intentions. Lucien didn’t even mean to find Elain there in the library. He just wanted a walk and to get a book, he didn’t realize she was there, he did not intentionally seek her out and break Feyre’s rule, despite what Rhys says.

Chapter 24 of ACOWAR: He hadn’t expected her to be here. The other sister—the viper—was a possibility, but one he was willing to risk…he’s been cooped up in this wind-blasted House for two days. He just wanted a walk—and a few books. It had been an age since he’d ever had free time to read, let alone do so for pleasure. But there she was. His mate.

Getting jealous he has friends / the entire fight they have in ACOFAS

Feyre seemed to have redeveloped her affection for Lucien by the end of ACOWAR but it took way too long and she is still an ass even after everything he’s done for her and for the good of Prythian.

In Frost and Starlight with their fight that causes him to leave before the Solstice…by fucking god. I truly hate everything about this conversation. Feyre is just so wildly frustrating. I discussed it before so I feel like I don’t need to go a whole lot into it because I already ripped this scene apart word for word.

Chapter 18 of ACOFAS: I rose as well. ‘But Jurian and Vassa’s is fine?’ ‘You’d be surprised to see how well the three of us get along.’ Friends, I realized. They had somehow become his friends. ‘So you would rather stay with them?’ ‘I’m not staying with them. The manor is ours.’” ‘Interesting.’ His golden eye whirred. ‘What is.’ Not feeling very festive at all, I said sharply, ‘That you now feel more comfortable with humans than with the High Fae. If you ask me—‘ ‘I’m not.’ ‘It seems like you’ve decided to fall in with two people without their homes of their own as well.’”

Lucien talks about how he and Vassa and Jurian have been getting closer and Feyre gets almost jealous that he has found friends and a life outside of the Night Court and the Inner Circle.

Of course he wanted to find other friends besides you, Feyre. It’s not like you have welcomed him with open arms.

And then this quote: “It seems like you’ve decided to fall in with two people without homes of their own as well.”

So you’re admitting that the Night Court isn’t his home? That he’s not welcome here, he has no friends here?

And then she realizes she fucked up she tries to correct herself:

Chapter 18 of ACOFAS: “Lucien stared at me, long and hard. ‘Happy Solstice to you, Feyre.’” He turned toward the foyer, but I grabbed his arm to halt him. The corded muscle of his forearm shifted beneath the fine silk of the sapphire jacket, but he made no move to shake me off. ‘I didn’t mean that. You have a home here. If you want it.’”

He doesn’t want it. He talks about how he can’t go to Spring anymore not just to Tamlin but to the court outside of the manor because of how Feyre ripped down Spring. Feyre shows no remorse for that. And he also talks about how he can’t stand to be in Night around Elain. He doesn’t feel welcome here for all of those reasons and from the fact that you are just the worst friend ever.

And then she proceeds to make fun of the Band of Exiles and mock him despite the work they are doing for the land she used to live in as a human. The Band of Exiles is a stupid name but Feyre doesn’t have a right to call it bullshit.

They have not had any meaningful conversations about their friendship. They could sit down and actually talk about what happened like civil people, I think they both have to still fully admit where they were wrong and apologize for the mistakes they’ve made. But Lucien seems to have already apologized more than Feyre ever will. He apologizes, he says Feyre was a better friend than he was, he feels guilty, he says he needs to actually do something and he looks for redemption. In ACOWAR when he is still in the Night Court, he has better manners than Feyre does, he apologizes and says thank you so many times.

And their fight in ACOFAS is basically the last thing we got of their friendship because he does come to the solstice party in Silver Flames which I am amazed by actually. I feel like he is still holding on to Elain and his allyship (I’m going to call it allyship) with Feyre and the Inner Circle. After everything she’s done to him, he’s still pushing through it. And I think that makes him a better person than Feyre. Strong opinion but. Jesus.

I could go for even longer but I’ll stop and I’ll end by saying Lucien deserves better.

#lucien vanserra #lucien deserves better #pro elucien #pro lucien vanserra #anti feyre #anti inner circle #anti rhysand #acotar

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snailsrneat · 17 days

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Yandere Vil Schoenheit Headcanons

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

TW: Kidnapping, Stalking, Posioning

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

I think if anyone got literally any of the overblot boys as their yandere they'd be pretty fucked.

Mostly because the overblot boys hold a lot of power and have tons of magic.

Vil, specifically, however is one of the few who won't ever use his magic on you.

No instead he'll just use potions on you (:

When you two first met, it wasn't exactly love first sight, more like first word.

Cause when he saw you, he wasn't impressed.

'This is the prefect everyone's been so obsessed over? Really?'

He honestly thought that you'd be more impressive, more magnificent and elegant if you will.

His first impression of you however immediately changed when you had begun barking orders at fellow freshman in an attempt to defeat him.

Never once has he seen a freshman, one as weak you, calling the shots amongst the student body.

Something must be different with you. And he had to figure out what.

From then onward he recruits Rook to spy on you and learn what your day-to-day patterns are like.

In the process Rook also listens in and learns all your secrets. All of which he reports to Vil.

The Vil learns about you the more he falls in love with you.

He obsesses over every single detail of you, from little moles in unseen places to the formation of stress wrinkles crowding over your forehead.

Every minute detail that he can find, he wants pepper with kisses and tell you just how weak in the knees you make him.

A part if him feels silly for getting weak for someone as mediocre as you, but the other half of him wants to steal you away and lock you in his bedroom so you never have to be troubled by those horrible boys you call "Friends".

In fact...that's a fantastic idea! Why hasn't he thought of this before? That way he can watch you up close.

No longer will he need Rook to do all his stalking, not when you're already here and so close.

When he kidnaps you he does it under the guise of you try a new tea blend he was given. But, unfortunately for you, the tea just so happens to be spiked.

"Oh no! I'm so sorry dear, I didn't think one of my own fans would try to spike my tea! Here let me help you get to the infirmary~"

He's an actor so he's very good at being melodramatic.

Instead of waking up in the infirmary, you wake up his bedroom, with your arms chained to the bed posts and dressed in expensive satin pajamas.

When Vil comes into the room and notices your struggling, he chides you for bruising you beautiful skin.

He doesn't release you from the chains, but he does his best to keep you comfortable.

"Only the best for you, darling. You shouldn't worry yourself with such needless things. What you should be thinking of is me, and only me. Understand?"

If you ever try to escape, don't.

I'm warning you, if Vil catches you trying to escape it'll be worse than just staying chained to his bed all day.

It's even more terrible if you've been getting "closer" with him recently, because now he knows that he shouldn't trust you fully. Ever.

If he catches you, he'll no longer allow you to be comfortable.

Instead of that nice comfortable bed, you sleep in a dog cage in the corner of his room.

And the days have started to blur together now, he started poisoning your food to make sure you don't do anything.

Most days your too tired to anything, let alone fight back or come up with escape plans.

If he has to start treating you like a baby he doesn't mind, he likes making you depend entirely on him.

"You know you did this to yourself, right? Trying to escape was a foolish endeavor and you must face the consequences of your actions..aw, you're crying darling. Don't cry, it'll give you wrinkles. Don't worry my love, this hurts me more than it hurts you. Now drink this."

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

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freak-accident419 · 1 month

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You Were Everything

Derek Danforth x AFAB!GN!Reader

Summary: It’s been a few years since the divorce. When you accidentally got pregnant by Derek, he left immediately out of fear, leaving you pregnant all alone. Compromises and communication had become established and all he could do now was call your daughter. But one day, just like some others, he asks to see her in person again.

Word Count: 2.3k

Content: angst, mentions of accidental pregnancy, reader is divorced from Derek, ‘P/n’ = parent name (what your child would call you, whether it be mommy/daddy/etc)

(A/n: I’ve gotta stop being inspired by Richie Jerimovich… reader is afab yet implied/intended to be genderqueer—either nonbinary, genderfluid, transman, transmasc, etc. but it can also apply to cis fem readers. Anyone with a uterus. I know this arrangement isn’t accurate—the custody thing—but it makes things more dramatic, you know?)

“Y/n, please.” You heard your ex-husband plead over the phone.

“Derek, we’ve already talked about this countless times. I’m not going to change my mind,” you sigh wearily.

Things with Derek were… complicated, to say the very least. You had once been married to him a few years ago, and everything was going so well. That is, until he got you pregnant.

It was a complete accident. You two always thought you were being safe. You both never planned on pregnancy, let alone even talked about the possibility of having a child. And with your conditions, you weren’t even sure you would be willing to raise it, to carry it all those nine months. But you went through with it anyway.

When Derek found out, he was utterly terrified. He never thought of himself being a father, he never thought he’d ever be the father of your kid, and he especially never thought you would even have a kid of your own. And so, out of sole fear and impulse, he just left one night. Gave you space, you supposed. But things ultimately just ended up in a bitter divorce. Derek was barely there for you.

Which was why you were so insistent on not letting him see your daughter. Jessica or Jess, she was named after Derek’s mother. She was four-years-old now, only communicating with her father on the phone, consoled by the lie you told her that he lived across the globe. During your pregnancy, he still paid for the medical bills, child support, formula, et cetera, yet he was separated from you. Therefore, you simply denied him visitation for your daughter, court-ordered, because you believed he didn’t deserve to see her. He left you alone for all those months, knowing how drastic of a concept pregnancy was to you. You never planned to let him see her.

“Y/n, please. Just for a day. Or even—even just an hour! Let me see my little girl. Please,” he begged with hopeless desperation. It was insulting to you, the fact that he finally wanted to be part of you and your daughter’s life.

“I’m not changing my mind,” you assert forcefully. “You left us. You left her and you left me.” You two always had this same conversation with the same statements and reasons. He had always brought up the possibility of seeing his daughter. This same conversation happened nearly almost every month.

“C’mon. She—she deserves to have a dad present in her life. I can’t just—just call her up all the time while she just believes I’m across the sea and unable to see her!” He urged imperatively to his ex-spouse.

“You’re right. She does deserve to have a dad. A present dad, a good dad,” you utter pressingly. “But that’s just not you.”

Derek pinched his nose bridge in frustration and sighed. He felt terrible. He felt so regretful and so horrible and undeserving of seeing his daughter in person. But he was also selfish—he needed to see her. Derek believed that he learned from his mistakes. Ultimately, he didn’t want to be a father in the beginning because he knew he was unfit. That is, until recently, when he shut down UDG and Nine Star.

“I know I messed up. I know—I know things ended horribly and—and you will never forgive me, but… but I just wanna see Jessica. Not even for an hour? Even five minutes? Five minutes, Y/n, come on, five minutes. Let me have this,” he implored. A part of you felt bad. After all, deep down you still loved him. But you kept remembering every grueling and difficult second while you were pregnant and alone.

“Derek, we’ve already had this conversation. You can continue to call her just like it has been for the past four years. But that’s it. You—” you paused in your tracks as you looked at the kitchen table, the plastic cup of milk tipped over, the drink spreading across the surface. You rushed to get napkins and you soothe your daughter. “Hey, sweetheart. It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s just spilt milk. Easy to clean. You’re okay.” You wiped the milk with the napkins after setting the cup back up. She was a sensitive child, so she was definitely upset about the spilled drink, yet you were able to distract her from the accident. “There. See? All clean. Did you eat your vegetables? Oh my, you did! All of them? Good girl!”

Your sweet, higher pitched voice transmitted to the other side of the phone, Derek hearing you speak to your daughter. His heart nearly stopped as he began to hear the muffled babbles of the toddler in the background of the call. His voice softened immediately, and he couldn’t think about anything but the presence of his daughter.

“She… She’s been eating her vegetables?” He asks softly in awe.

You bring the phone back to your ear. “Yeah,” you answer simply, looking down at her as she continued to eat her lunch.

Derek felt a rush of pride. Even though it was something as small as finishing vegetables, he was extremely proud of her. He always was.

“Is she—is she there?” He inquired breathlessly.

“Uh, yeah,” you reply.

“Can I talk to her?”

“Derek—”

“Please.”

You sigh, pausing. You only let him speak to her for a certain amount of hours and at a specific time of the day, but… you figured there was no harm in letting him speak to her right now. “Fine,” you yield.

After handing the phone to your daughter and telling her who it was, you caught the sudden change of her expression—she nearly beamed.

“Hi, daddy!”

Derek felt his heart explode and his whole world practically stopped at the moment he heard his child’s voice again. Sure, he gets to call her every day, but he could never get used to it, to the feeling, to her voice. The way she called him her father with enthusiasm and exhilaration, as if he was worth all the excitement. Then his lips curled into a soft smile once he fully processed the moment. “Hey… hey, baby, how are you?”

“I’m good!” She chirped sweetly. “Guess what?”

“What is it, sweetheart?” He replies excitedly.

“I can do a cartwheel now!” She exclaimed.

“Oh really?” He chuckles softly.

“Yeah! My friend Emmy, who-who’s in gymnastics, she showed me how!” Derek smiles as he continued to hear the purity and cheerfulness of his own daughter’s voice. His heart melted every time he heard her, every mispronunciation, every babble.

“That’s amazing, honey!” He praised with admiration.

Her happiness was overwhelming. While he was proud of her—and he was—he couldn’t help but feel miserable. He couldn’t be there to see it. To see his daughter, unlike other kids, finish all her vegetables without any problems. To see her do a cartwheel for the very first time.

“I wish you could see it, daddy! It’s so cool!”

“I bet it is, Jess,” he replies joyfully, ensuring that there were no hints of anguish in his tone. “I wish I could see it too.”

It hurt him a lot, if he had to be honest—not being able to see his daughter and her achievements and growth in person. It was slowly, deliberately killing him.

“And-and yesterday, p/n’s friend Josh took us to the aquarium!” she giggled.

Oh, right. Your new boyfriend. Josh.

Josh, the one who always took you out to dinner whenever he could. The one who treated your daughter with ice cream regularly.

Josh, the one with a clean background and normal, humble life.

Josh, the one who Jess mentioned on several occasions, especially whenever she brought up your happiness.

Derek felt his mouth become dry, obligated to lick his lips. He gulped, attempting to disregard the whole painful ‘Josh’ thing with a relevant question. “Yeah? What kinds of animals did you see there?” He asked curiously.

“There were a lot of fishes, and penguins, and seahorses, and turtles, and octopuses! But my favorite were the seals,” she babbles gleefully, completely ignorant of the entire situation.

“That sounds so fun, baby,” he replied with a wide smile. “Why are seals your favorite?”

“I don’t know. They’re just really cute,” she shrugs with an innocent giggle. “P/n said that they remind them of you, though.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Your p/n said that?”

“Mhm!”

“Me? Seals?”

“Yeah. They said it was because you had big puppy eyes,” she giggles.

Derek laughs. It felt nice to hear that you still spoke of him to your daughter, let alone fondly. And it was also very typical of you to say; hearing that was inexplicably nostalgic. It warmed his heart. “Can’t argue with that.”

A pondering thought lingered in his mind as he thought about you, and he felt it eating at him.

“Hey, baby, can I ask you something?” He implores gently.

“Okay!” she replies simply.

“Is… Is your P/n happy?” Derek felt nervous as he asked this question.

“Yeah!” she babbles cheerfully. “They’re always happy!”

There was a wave of a warm, bittersweet feeling in his chest as he smiled softly to himself. But also relief. He still cared about you, so, so much. Derek regrets leaving you that day. He wants to come back for Jess, of course. But he also wants to come back to you.

Derek opened his mouth to speak, until suddenly—

“Oh. P/n wants to be back on the phone.”

Derek’s smile falters immediately. He knew you never really approved of any interaction between him and your daughter, so he assumed you wanted to cut the call short. But in the end, nothing would be enough for him. Not a five minute or five hour call. He would sacrifice anything to see her. But he knew that as long as you never forgive him, it’ll never happen. “O-okay, baby. I love you, okay? Give—give the phone back to your p/n, please.”

“Okay! I love you! Bye daddy!”

He sighs as he heard the phone being passed to you, taking a deep breath as he prepared to speak to you once again. It was kind of draining, mostly because he was intimidated by you. Speaking to you was just a reminder of his failure, of how he failed you.

“Hey,” you sigh.

“Hey…”

There was a slight pause until Derek spoke up.

“So… seals remind you of me, huh?”

You groan playfully and place a hand on your forehead. “She told you that?”

“Mhm. I mean—personally, I don’t get why you’ve always talked out my eyes being ‘big and brown,’ like every time, you always said that same thing—”

“Because they are,” you chuckle under your breath. Little did he know, and little did Jess know, that she had his eyes. You had mixed feelings about Derek indefinitely, especially because of the past. But there was something so invigorating about talking about your daughter with him. “Did she tell you about the cartwheel?”

“Yeah,” he replies with a grin on his face. Knowing him for a long time, you could imagine how his face looked just by the sound of his voice. “I’m so proud of her.”

“You know, um… she’s very invested in math right now,” you bring up.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, there was this, uh, cartoon… on the TV showing simple math problems and uh… she just sorta fell in love with it. She wanted me to teach her more,” you reiterate. “Derek, she’s four.”

Derek listened in awe, becoming more and more amazed by his daughter.

“Really? She wanted to learn math?”

“Yeah,” you were practically beaming. “She is so smart, Derek,” you affirm, “Our—our daughter, she is so smart.”

”Y-yeah. She—she really is,” he replied briefly with mere astonishment.

That was the first time that you referred to your daughter as his. ‘Our,’ echoed in his mind. ‘Our daughter.’ He wasn’t sure that you even caught that, that it was intentional, because you said it so naturally and quick, but… he couldn’t help but feel good about himself—about everything—after that.

There was a short pause before you cleared your throat. “Hey, um… I thought about it a lot and, uh… I have this business thing across the country… and, um… I was planning on having my mom watch her or a sitter, but, uh…”

You pause, afraid to even make the proposal.

“I wanted you to watch her. On that weekend. You can, uh… finally meet her, spend time with her, and…”

Derek was in complete shock. His eyes were wide, he felt his entire body freeze, it was like he couldn’t move.

“When is this?” He uttered quietly in disbelief.

“In two weeks,” you answer, “Are you up for it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. Of course, I…” Derek was incredibly astonished. Was this even real? You were finally going to let him see his daughter? “Of course. I’ll—I’ll be there.” He was so prepared to cancel every single plan on that weekend, clearing up his schedule just for Jess.

“Y/n, thank you. Thank you so much, I…” He was still in utter shock. It was unexpected after all, just a few minutes ago you had denied him again. But while your daughter was calling him, you got an email from your work, reminding you about the business trip. You weren’t entirely sure why you changed your mind like this. You just hoped that you wouldn’t regret it.

“Just… please don’t mess it up,” you sigh exasperatedly.

“I—I won’t,” he says confidently. Derek felt his hands shake ever so slightly, eyes watering from the realization he had—he was going to see his kid. For the first time, he was going to see his child.

“Okay.”

Derek felt emotional. He was actually going to see his kid. He was actually going to watch her cartwheel, he was actually going to hold her. He could take her out for ice cream like… how Josh had.

Derek gulped as he pondered.

“Y/n?” He mumbles silently.

You hum in response.

“I, uh… How are—How are you doing?”

“I’m doing alright, Derek,” you reply briefly.

You said his name softly this time, however—not harshly like before. It tugged on his weak heartstrings as if they were useless, frayed string.

And then there was an awful, deafening pause.

“I, uh… I still really love you, Y/n.”

You felt your heart sink before it shattered completely. Your vision began to become blurry with your now glassy eyes. It hurt. This all hurt.

Derek wouldn’t know much this affected you, however. He could only hear your voice or your silence. He’d never know how awful you felt just from hearing that, like how awful he felt from blurting it out. He believed you completely moved on from him. But he adored you, to say the very least, hopelessly. It was simply a cry for a second chance.

There was a terrible, piercing silence. Were you still there, behind the phone?

“Y/n…?”

You were speechless for too long as his words lingered horribly in your mind.

Then finally…

“I know,” he heard you reply softly, under your trembled breath.

“I—I still care about you,” you add. Wrong. You still love him too. But he would never know that. He would be foolish to assume without hearing the three words leave your own lips. And you couldn’t. You couldn’t tell him that you still loved him, because he would just hold on and hope longer. So instead, you express your gratitude for him. “Um… Thank you for… for all the good times… for being in my life…

You were a wonderful experience.”

#derek danforth #derek danforth x you #derek danforth x reader #derek danforth x gn!reader #derek danforth angst #angst #the beekeeper #the beekeeper fanfic #the beekeeper movie #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutcherson x you #mike schmidt x reader #clapton davis x reader #josh futturman x reader #peeta mellark x reader

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sixosix · 1 year

Note

Hi! I'm on a sae brainrot lately it's gonna consume me and your fics are soo good😫 can I req a sae with reader in love with him despite being friends with rin, I just love the idea of rin being annoyed with the two of them giving each other heart eyes when reader comes over to their house, thank you sooo much!

think of this as an au where the itoshi brothers aren’t as insane and strained ur welcome ALSO ANON HELPP this idea is so funny

rin doesn’t consider himself as someone who has homicidal urges. on a good day, at least.

but you are making it harder and harder not to just strangle you and yell out strings of profanity whenever you sigh dreamily over his brother.

his big brother, of all people. rin knows that he and sae are pretty popular, but for his best friend to be head over heels for his brother when you should be immune to the itoshi bloodline is a bit absurd.

“it’s the best friend’s brother thing,” bachira said. rin has no idea what that means, but apparently, it’s when people go crazy over the best friend’s brother. rin hopes that none of sae’s friends are giving him the same googly eyes you do whenever sae passes by—that would be horrifying.

“he’s so handsome,” you explained to him when he asked why you are so obsessed with his brother in blood. “so—! just soo fucking—” and then rin asked you to not finish that sentence because he might have to damage his eardrums by hand if you continue.

that’s not even the worst part, no.

a normal person (like rin) would think that, okay, pining isn’t that bad. crushes are normal. my friend’s weird obsession with wanting to kiss my brother stupid is normal, maybe. but no. it’s not that easy. rin cannot just coax you to move on or force to imply anything in case sae hunts him down.

because his big brother, itoshi sae, is in love with you.

rin doesn’t know when— how it started. he just found out when you had to come up to rin to ask for something and left like a frightened deer, and sae, dead-inside, doesn’t-give-a-fuck-about-you sae, kept staring at you until you were out of sight. there was a smile on his face—a fond one, if that makes it any better.

(it does not. rin didn’t even know what to say at this point. his hands are itching.)

“that’s just a little brother thing,” shidou remarked once when rin lamented about his worrying urge to throttle you and sae simultaneously. rin understands that one, at least.

you have to come over today.

it’s not a big deal since you’ve come to his room to hang out before. it’s not always voluntary on rin’s part; you just appear out of nowhere, carrying pillows and about three blankets, materializing out of nowhere and onto his doorstep.

the difference is that his brother is back in japan, and you’re coming over today.

why is this a problem?

well, for starters: rin is not fond of seeing you make a fool of yourself and cry about it to him later on. he sleeps through it, usually, but you smack his head when you meet again, and he is afraid he might get brain damage soon.

second, rin only stays in his room, so it is where you follow. if the time comes you leave, sae will interrogate the hell out of him and give the coldest glares out of sheer jealousy. rin cannot be bothered to explain that no, he doesn’t like you that way, and sae is free to take you.

he doesn’t want to expose you like that, though. he is not that much of an asshole. as horrible and hilarious it is to watch you trip over yourself to see him, rin knows you genuinely like sae.

rin sees it in the way you smile helplessly whenever anyone mentions him, and rin can tell that it’s serious. you’re still his friend; he still cares about how this will work out for you.

“rin, i’m telling you,” you say, and in your excitement—or hysteria, really—you fail to notice that your voice is terribly loud. “shidou is out to get me. i have nightmares about him hunting me down because i beat him four times. he has a bat with nails on it.”

“let him win, then,” rin deadpans.

although it is his house, he’s the one trailing after you. mostly to make sure you don’t eat all the ice cream. again.

“i can’t lose to shidou, rin. that’s a stain on my resume.”

“then don’t dream about shidou with a bat with nails on it.”

“you’re the life of the party, itoshi.”

you yelp as you turn into a sharp corner on the way to his room. rin blinks at the sound and visibly deflates when he realizes who you’ve crashed into. he holds back a groan, knowing precisely what’s coming next.

cue: romantic guitar, doves flying, bells ringing.

“y/n,” sae says, holding you up by the shoulders.

“...sae,” you reply, belatedly. and then proceed to gape at him as if you forgot that he is rin’s brother and they live together for that reason.

“nii-chan,” rin says, too, because he really is not in the mood to witness this.

sae blinks up at rin. “where are you two going?”

rin hesitates. “my room.” you’re still steaming because sae is still holding you.

sae narrows his eyes.

“y-you can join us!” you blabber, refusing to meet sae’s eyes—which is horrible, really, because if you just took a single glance at sae, you’d see how his eyes softened impossibly.

“don’t say that.” rin scowls. he already has it rough having one lovesick freak in his room; he is not fit to handle two simultaneously, for each other, too.

“i’ll join,” sae decides instantly, staring right at you. rin wants to throw his hands in the air. “what did you say about shidou?”

thx for reading i had too much fun w this LMFAOOO

#606:BLLK #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk x you #blue lock x you #itoshi sae x you #sae itoshi x you #itoshi sae x y/n #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae fluff

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actual-changeling · 5 months

Text

And once more with feeling: Why there is no magic trick or gun to either of their heads in the final fifteen.

Before you immediately run to my comments or hit reblog, please read the entire thing. If you're still mad, either read it again or sit with it, do not make it my problem. Genuine questions and discussions are always welcome, comments that make it clear you did not understand a word I said aren't.

Okay? Okay.

With that, welcome back to Alex's unhinged meta corner, and today we are going to compare their first and last argument in the bookshop—they are, fundamentally, the same. It both sets the scene for their relationship this season and works as immaculate foreshadowing of how they part.

I compared the scripts, which you can find here. It's incredible that OP put all that work into creating these because otherwise I would have gone insane doing it myself.

Now, the setting: they have a problem.

In ep1 it is Gabriel, in ep6 it is technically still Gabriel, or rather his now empty position in heaven. They solved one problem and now they're forced to deal with another one he also caused; meanwhile he's drinking space margaritas.

Crowley, stuck in his trauma-induced hypervigilance and paranoia, suggest putting as much distance between them and the problem as possible. I think it is interesting that in ep1 he wants to get Gabriel away from them, while at the end of the season he is ready to get them away from the problem.

So far, I have never seen anyone mention that change! And it's important! The entire season, it is hammered into our heads how much they love being on earth. It is THEIR bookshop and THEIR car and THEIR life.

Crowley wants to protect that home, and Gabriel is a threat to it, a threat to both of them, their life, the bookshop—everything. He does not want to leave, he wants his peace and angel in one place.

Yet by allowing Gabriel to stay, Aziraphale destroyed the sense of comfort and safety Crowley slowly developed over the last few decades. Heaven nipping down every now and then to check in with Aziraphale is very different from him sheltering the Supreme Archangel who is running from 'something terrible' without even asking if he's alright with that.

Aziraphale calls it their bookshop, but he fundamentally still sees it as his space to govern and Crowley as a guest.

After another horrible week and having his previously safe space violated several different times and beings, Crowley is back to where he was before—without a home. That fragile existence broke apart, so he is standing in the heap of shards and telling Aziraphale 'I don't feel safe here anymore, let's leave'.

He lost his safe space, but he still has his safe person, his best and only friend, the person he loves. I doubt he cares where exactly they go as long as they're together and it's safe.

Returning to heaven—it is the one place Crowley cannot follow him to. It's literally the worst option, he can't go back, he won't go back. So he invokes the bookshop again, if you don't want to stay for me, stay for the bookshop, your books, your corner of existence that I thought we had carved out for ourselves.

'Nothing lasts forever' and 'you're at liberty to go' have the same underlying meaning—you're not welcome in this house anymore, it was your safe place, not anymore. Both times, he's essentially kicking him out.

Aziraphale then switches it up again!

Same manipulation tactic, first making Crowley feel rejected and unwelcome, then trying to pull him back in by promising and showing affection. He's desperate, he's attempting to get Crowley into his "saviour" role because he knows he has a hard time not saving him from whatever trouble he gets him into. Aziraphale knows him so damn well, and he uses that knowledge to get what he wants.

'If you won't, you won't' has the same implication as 'then there's nothing more to say'—I am ending that conversation, you can leave now, he even makes the same face both times.

In ep1, that's that, Crowley takes his emotions and leaves.

The lightning bolt is the kiss. A sudden, heavy discharge of pent-up feelings that has been a long time coming, but in the end he is more desperate, less controlled, at his emotional rock bottom. Everything he thought to be true about their relationship came crashing down around him.

In his mind, Aziraphale chose heaven over him—TWICE! First Gabriel, now Gabriel's position.

'You're on your own with this one' applies to both scenes, I think the reasoning behind that is pretty clear.

Now, some more verbal components and word meanings that I think are worth mentioning.

One of them is Crowley directly pointing out heaven's cruelties when Aziraphale is seemingly unaware of them, thinking of Gabriel/heaven as in in need of his 'help'.

I can take help him -> I can make a difference.

It is, fundamentally, the same argument.

Aziraphale feels like he is the one who needs to play saviour (that Crowley actually hates it but Aziraphale loves it is a post for another time), the one being who can help Gabriel/heaven and fix all the problems.

Crowley correctly points out that they do not care about him and are just as cruel—if not more—as hell, that Gabriel tried to destroy him, that heaven will destroy all of them.

Their responses to that just shoot past each other and it is what Crowley himself tells us. Two different exactlys

Aziraphale's -> I am the only one who can fix this, I feel responsible for this, help me fix this.

Crowley's -> This is dangerous, it can get us killed, we cannot fix this. Come and be safe with me.

'He needs us' becomes 'I need you'.

'I would love you to help me' becomes 'we can be together'.

In episode 1, the argument isn't 'final', as such. Crowley is exhausted, sad, feels rejected, but when he finds out just how much trouble Aziraphale is in, he needs to go back and help him. It's instinct, he couldn't live with himself if he knowingly let him walk into the knife—and yet in episode 6 that is exactly what Aziraphale forces him to do.

It is why Crowley brings up the nightingales, why he kisses him: that primal, love-based desperation. This argument is final, he won't be able to follow him to heaven no matter what, he won't be able to protect him.

He is on his own with this one.

In conclusion, THIS is why the argument that happened in the final fifteen is real, there's no trick, no nothing.

They have had the same argument before, probably over and over again. Same structure but with lower stakes, and eventually they reconciled.

This time the stakes are as high as they possibly can be, which lures their most primal, honest arguments out of them.

Aziraphale wants to fix heaven, wants to help, still believes that they are fundamentally good, that he can make a difference.

Crowley has lived the truth, has been trying to tell him for centuries, and he is exhausted. He wants safety. He wants peace. He wants the two of them in a peaceful, not-fragile corner of existence that no one else gets to break ever again.

Not a single line was 'out of character', this is exactly who they are, with all their layers stripped away and their fears exposed. It's not pretty to watch, it hurts, it makes you ache, and yet they and we know that this is how it has the end—the only way it was ever going to end.

That is what makes it tragic.

However, even after all of that, there is one step left: reconciliation.

Season 3 is going to give it to us, in whatever shape or form. Neil knows what he is doing, and we can trust him to give them the ending they deserve.

#alex talks good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #good omens meta #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen #crowley meta #aziraphale meta #every single time someone tries to argue with me about this again i will just link this post

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chaoticbardlady99 · 5 months

Text

She’s My Religion (Part 2: She Needs This Love Just as Much as Me) Astarion x F! Reader

Author note- totally not sure how I feel about this, but here we go! I hope someone enjoys this lmao.

I’m really tired and so this has been edited once and I’ll add the link for part 1 later. If you asked to be on my tag list- I am going to be adding you tomorrow simply because I can barely keep my eyes open right now.

CW: Domestic violence, physical abuse, emotional abuse, mentions of torture, violence, angst.

Picture does not belong to me and is not mine. I cannot for the life of me remember where I got it so I apologize in advance.

“You’ve been doing WHAT!?”

Astarion sits staring at the forest with his head hung with guilt and shame. Shadowheart sounds furious with him and admittedly, Astarion is also raving mad at himself.

Astarion miscalculated terribly- his plan was completely, utterly doomed from the start. Shadowheart is pacing back and forth in front of him- reading him the right act.

Astarion is zoning out as Shadowheart goes on and on saying all the things he’s already said to himself- he begins to drift to the first time he had ever met you about three years ago.

Astarion had been in solitary confinement for what had felt like forever when Cazador let him out. It was probably the only time Cazador had looked somewhat close to nervous with some sick twisted affection behind his eyes. He simply told Astarion he was to accompany you around the grounds and that you needed to be treated with respect. Your step-father did not want you to be present after dinner.

“You are allowed to take her to do what she wants- within reason. Do not let her leave the mansion grounds and make sure she is content,” Cazador said stiffly, “I am trusting you, boy. You know the consequences if you step out of line.”

Later, before you had arrived, Dalyria had made him privy to you and your… temperaments. Astarion relished in knowing you made a fool out of Petras. Someone needed to give the prick a wake up call.

It was also, supposedly, no secret to anyone in your family that you are the one Cazador wishes to marry, but due to your lack of royal blood, it would ruin his alliance with the Von family entirely. So Cazador is stuck with a woman named Daisy Von (who he cannot stand) and Astarion felt like it was the perfect karma for Cazador- the one time he wants something or someone, he absolutely cannot have it.

You were (still are) wildly different from your obnoxious step-sisters and step-brothers.

“Wild.”

“Rebellious.”

“Boorish.”

“Trouble maker.”

It was all this annoying group of people could seem to talk about- how terrible and horrible you were. What a disappointment. What a nuisance.

Dalyria told him beforehand that this was the norm and that it really only gets more embarrassing for them every time. You were kind, headstrong, ambitious, and beautiful according to Dalyria- when she had stepped in for Petras that night at the last minute, you had treated her like a person. You had asked her about herself, engaged in her hobbies by asking questions, and you had made a point of showing her all the medical books in Bridril Von’s library (you even let her take one, Bridril never goes in the library). Astarion had just stared at her in disbelief- she had to be playing a trick on him.

You stood on the farthest end next to the youngest girl and Bridril had scowled so aggressively, Astarion thought his face may cave in on itself. You are far more captivating than any of Bridril’s children could ever wish to be. No wonder Cazador wants you so badly that he’s willing to do anything to make sure you come over with them or that you show up for dinner at your own home- undeterred by the inability to actually make a proposal for your hand.

You looked positively irritated everytime Daisy opened her mouth and he was too. The woman is dense and over-the-top. Dinner had been awkward and you had barely even touched your food, but drank three goblets of wine- every time Bridril leered at you for getting another glass, a sly smirk would cross your lips. Your own silent rebellion.

Your demeanor and attitude resembled that of a bird trapped in a cage- wings clipped and feathers plucked. It made Astarion feel bitter- in what world were you trapped? You get to live in a nice mansion and go to dinner parties in nice clothes- Astarion just woke up in a TOMB after being in there for WEEKS. How dare a pampered princess such as yourself pretend that you are provided with anything less than perfection.

His bitterness (and biases) hadn’t lasted very long- it lasted for about 5 parties. Your relationship started out with a lot of bickering and miscommunication. Both of your words towards each other were passively laced with venom, but you never complained so he kept being assigned to you. It was never an option really either. Cazador insisted you be a part of every dinner despite Bridril’s grumbling.

The 6th meeting had changed everything. You had not arrived for the party your step-father was throwing and Bridril told Cazador that you were sick before hurriedly rushing off to talk to a local Magistrate. Cazador, naturally, wasn’t satisfied with this explanation so he had sent Astarion to find you.

Astarion had found you sleeping- bloody, battered, and bruised in your bedroom. There was a thick black banded bruise on your neck. The walls were empty, there was only a bedroll in the corner, and the book you had been reading the last time he was there was destroyed and in tatters on the floor. You had woken up when he accidentally slammed the door out of rage and you had looked around disoriented, but skittish and alert all the same. Your eyes softened when you realized it was just him.

You told him you had lost a competition because you hadn’t been sleeping well- too many bad dreams. Bridril had been so embarrassed that he had beaten you for the last several hours before- completely forgetting the mass amount of guests that he had invited to his home that evening. You weren’t allowed to leave your room. Astarion had been wrong. You were a trapped bird in a cage.

It was the one and only time Astarion ever willingly went to Cazador and told him what he had witnessed. You never had a scratch on you again at any future gatherings, but you always looked more tired than the time before. Bridril would boast about all the competitions you had won over the last month- Archery, jousting, mock combats, javelin throwing, etc, etc, etc. The list went on and on- you looked closer and closer to vomiting or keeling over from exhaustion with every activity he named. Life returned to your eyes when you and Astarion went off to dick around.

Escorting you around the Crimson Palace or around the Mansion quickly became his favorite part of those stupid dinner parties or any of the events Cazador threw or went to. You are complex and didn’t grow up in nobility. You despised it, but you were stuck because Bridril had enchanted your mother. You told him she breaks sometimes, but you rarely recognize the woman that pretends to be her nowadays.

You admitted to Astarion you thought he was a pompous bastard when you first met, but he is pretty so you let it slide. Astarion told you that he thought you were a spoiled brat, but because YOU were pretty, he also let it slide.

You had smiled at him, “I guess we are both wrong.”

“But not about being pretty.”

“Oh most certainly not.”

One evening, the two of you had had ‘too much’ fun according to Cazador. You had snuck him into the library and you had sat reading for the entire 6 hour affair. You had asked if it was okay if you sat near him and that eventually led to you leaninging against each other. Astarion had felt like he had been physically, painfully ripped from you when it was time to go. You had kissed Astarion on the cheek before he left and he kissed your hand. Cazador had flayed Astarion for that one night.

Astarion had felt some guilt regarding his resentment toward you after the incident. He knew he wasn’t helping his own situation by giving into your whims and your touch.

If Astarion didn’t know any better, he would think Cazador loved you, but he learned quickly that Cazador’s “affection” for you comes from a place of obsession and possessiveness. You looked like a previous lover of his from a lifetime that Astarion knew very little about. You were different from this woman, but it was not unwelcome in Cazador’s eyes- he has always liked a challenge. He could make you submit.

Cazador had wanted to send someone else to be your escort after you had begun to show an interest in Astarion- this was quickly squashed when you looked like you were going to light Cazador and his entire world on fire if he dared to volunteer another person. He had brought Leon, Astarion, and Dalyria and when Cazador volunteered Leon- you simply said, “No, I want Astarion.”

Cazador was infuriated, but he wanted- no needed you to be happy and to like him. Cazador had told Pale Petras that if he could win your favor, he was sure you’d just willingly come to him and ask to be his consort. Daisy could be thrown out entirely and maybe he’ll have negotiating room. The thought had made Astarion’s stomach turn- he wouldn’t be able to bare watching you become a lifeless consort under Cazador.

However, he always pushed those thoughts away when he was around you so he could stay in a good mood. You would flirt back and forth with Astarion, talk about irrelevant bullshit from the week, the gossip around the mansion, and you both mimicked and complained about how pathetic it was to watch Daisy grovel at Cazador’s feet- a lamb to the slaughter. You referred to the slaughter as being marriage, he referred to the slaughter as Cazador.

It had been a wonderful year of Daisy entirely failing at keeping Cazador’s attention, but she was determined and Astarion admittedly hoped that you may remain a consistent part of his life- the tiniest ray of light to look forward to once or twice a month. And if Cazador marries Daisy? Well, Astarion may never have to be that far away from you permanently.

Then, one night at a party, he had been in the Von mansion’s dining room- Cazador had instructed him to find you. He eventually gave up after he couldn’t and figured you would come to him eventually. Astarion was right, but not in the way he had originally hoped.

You had snuck into the second floor dining area and you locked it behind you. Astarion had been relieved to be in your presence again, but the state you were in… His relief was swallowed up when he had seen how bruised and beaten up you looked. Astarion had surprised you by his presence and you surprised him with your plan. You were escaping and instead of stopping you like a very massive part wanted him too- in spite of Cazador’s command to keep you from leaving the property having been shoved down Astarion’s throat, Astarion helped you tie the rope to propel down the side of the building.

Astarion can still remember the earnest look you’d given him- the way you begged him to leave with you. Gods he wanted to. Astarion remembered all the days that followed after where he kicked himself for not being selfish, but for whatever reason, he didn’t want there to be any way for you to be caught. Astarion knew if he went with you, neither one of you would ever get to know what it means to be free. Cazador would be able to find you through Astarion.

Astarion had told you “no”, struggled to get you to understand between tears, but then you promised him that you would be back. You would kill Cazador and he would be free- you just need him to wait for you. You didn’t know Cazador was a Vampire Lord at the time, but he still believed you. You said give you at least four years- you need time to prepare. He agreed.

Astarion never forgot your promise, clinging to it like a divine wish. There were only 2 more years left- then the Mindflayers kidnapped him.

Astarion had never felt more angry or defeated in his whole life. Astarion would have been free, but now he’s going to turn into a Mindflayer of all things.

Except it had been the best stroke of luck he’d ever had. You were there! In front of him after two years! Your softer noble appearance has been replaced with a scar that shows you dodged just in time to not lose an eye, an Oath of Vengeance sigil plastered to your chest, piercings along your ears, and a large beholder tattoo on your neck. Still beautiful, just far more authentic.

Astarion knows his initial plan to seduce you, sleep with you, and manipulate your feelings was a fucked up one-especially because he knew having you in every way would destroy Cazador without thinking of how it would make you feel. Astarion also acknowledged that a part of him had been doing all this for his own selfish pleasure- no one was in the way of keeping you from getting closer and Astarion didn’t want to have to share your affections with others in camp. And besides, he had been there first.

Oh and Astarion took every advantage of having you to himself. Talking to you, making you laugh, kissing you, being entangled with you while you sleep, drinking from you- fucking you until you only smell of him, leaving bite marks to show you are Astarion’s only.

What Astarion hadn’t anticipated was how much he would also want to be yours. He had been pushing down the feeling for a long time and he always brushed off Shadowheart’s puppy love jokes. Astarion was not smitten with you- he merely knows you and that’s why it’s all so easy. You had shown him simple kindness and you had a history together- you were the obvious choice to go to for protection.

Then the fight with Yurgir happened and Astarion watched you die.

The battle had been hard- brutal even for Astarion’s standards- and the constant bombs being dropped wasn’t helping the situation.

You were up top with Karlach, facing Yurgir head on while Shadowheart and himself tried to pick off the other attackers going after you both.

It had felt like hours, but in reality, what happened next lasted mere seconds.

Yurgir had made you and Karlach lose your balance, but Yurgir was focused on you. Astarion watched in despair as you were flung into the wall, crashing to the ground with a pained scream, a sickening crack, then nothing but blood pouring out of your head. Suddenly, a bomb exploded above you, the rocks began to pour down from the ceiling, and buried you.

The screams that had erupted from Karlach and Shadowheart had snapped him into action. Astarion didn’t remember the rest of the battle, just that it had been a bloodthirsty blur and now he, Karlach, and Shadowheart were clearing the rubble. Astarion had been the one to find you and your face was a bit bruised, the back of your head still seeping with blood, but you looked so peaceful and your skin was so so cold.

When you were completely uncovered, it was evident that you were dead- that this was a job for Withers or a scroll of revivify. Your neck was snapped in half, your limbs were broken- some even shattered. Shadowheart was able to heal and reset your neck so that the whole ordeal was slightly less grotesque. After, he had cradled you in his arms until Karlach and Shadowheart were sure there were no enemies between themselves and the exit.

Astarion had refused to let Karlach take you, holding your broken form against him as his silent tears spilled onto your hushed expression.

You had thankfully not been beyond the point of no return, but Astarion had realized that he needed to have a conversation with you. You are more than an upper hand to him, more than someone fun to tumble around with in his tent- you have somehow become his reason for going forward. Astarion had resigned himself to dying if you weren’t able to be revived. The thought had surprised him after wanting to be free for so long, but would his freedom be worth having if he couldn’t spend it with you? Astarion would rather take his chances and hope you end up together in the same afterlife.

That is what has led him and Shadowheart to having this conversation. Astarion wants to ask you to be something real to each other. Shadowheart had initially been confused, stating that you had “always been real?”, then he told her everything.

Whenever you left Astarion behind, he’d pass the time getting drunk with Shadowheart (if she was left behind). The last time, she had to ask Astarion if his entire conversation catalog is just about you because you were brought up every other word- he had felt incredibly embarrassed, so much so that he had gotten up and hid in his tent.

“Astarion- you never shut up about her, you’ve been following her around like a lost dog since day one- Hells you looked halfway to smitten on the DAMN BEACH!” Shadowheart says with a shrill voice, “What do you mean the entire time up until yesterday that it was all a lie!?”

“It wasn't yesterday only, my favorite wine drunk Sharran” Astarion stated matter-of-factly, “I just… didn’t want to acknowledge that I wanted more. After I first met her, I didn’t see her again for two years- it was bearable, but that had come with the promise of her coming back. She almost didn’t yesterday and I realized that, even after this is all said and done, I don't ever want her to go away. In any capacity.”

Shadowheart shook her head at him, “She’s going to be furious. Heartbroken even.”

“I know,” Astarion says thickly, “but I’m hoping she will forgive me or at least let me prove to her that I’m serious about us.”

You weren’t due back for at least another hour so they had begun working on the speech immediately.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Whatever we are,” you are glaring at him, your voice coated in venom, “or whatever you were pretending I was to you- it’s over.”

No. No. No. NO!

Astarion didn’t think it was possible for his heart to feel like it’s been shattered since it barely beats at all.

It’s over?

It can’t be over! It’s barely begun and you only have half of the story. Astarion knows you’ll listen- you’ll see sense. You have to… right?

“Darling, pl-”

“No! I hate you so much!,” you sob into your hands, his whole body hurts looking at you, “I hate you more than I thought I could ever hate anyone- undead, dead, or alive! I trusted you and you used me for your own gain- so unkindly, go fuck yourself!”

Astarion wants to grab you as you turn around and walk away. He wants to get down on his knees and plead to you- pray to you until you don’t leave him- that you take it back. You’ll give him a chance, even if he loses privileges like getting to hold your hand, cuddle with you at night, or even kiss you for a while, that would be far more bearable than losing you altogether.

Astarion falls to his knees, ruptured and humbled.

“Astarion,” Shadowheart says softly, squatting down in front of him, “it will be okay. She’ll forgive you. She just needs a second, okay? You knew and I knew that this was a toss up to begin with.”

Astarion nodded numbly and got to his feet. Shadowheart gives him a squeeze on the shoulder before going into her own tent and Astarion briskly begins to walk back to his. He makes eye contact with you as Wyll enters your tent and the look on your face when you saw him makes this whole nightmare all too real.

Once he secures the tent flaps, Astarion crawls onto his bedroll and lets the sadness consume him while being surrounded by your scent. This may be one of the worst days he’s ever had in the last 200 years- at least from what he can remember.

If Astarion wasn’t so afraid for your safety, he would have packed up all of his things and headed back to Cazador with his tail between his legs, but he can’t because all that does is put you in danger.

Astarion slowly peels himself off the bed roll and hugs his knees to his chest. He lets himself stare off into nowhere as he lets himself be consumed with the agony and vexation- it’s not like there is any wildlife to go take out his pain on.

Astarion gets up and rolls his shoulders. As much as he wants you, you are done with him and he needs to respect that. Astarion decides he’ll leave you alone, but remain in the background. He’ll stay until you tell him to leave and never return. It will hurt so terribly to not be near you like he was, but he’ll just have to be grateful for the time he did have- the time he took for granted.

Astarion begins to get ready for the long night ahead of him when an open letter on one of his books catches his attention.

It’s addressed to you, torn open and stained with tears. Astarion opens the envelope. He reads the note so many times he feels like he may go on a homicidal rampage. Not only was your mother dead, likely at the hands of your step-father, you are officially considered engaged to be married to Cazador fucking Szarr.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion had waited until morning to try to talk to you again-giving up on leaving you alone. He knows that you have a very long cool down period when your feelings are hurt (he has made this mistake less severely in the recent past). If there is any hope of you hearing Astarion out- it would be today.

Except you had already left with Karlach, Gale, and Lae’zel by the time he has finally built up the courage to leave his tent.

Astarion spent the day with Shadowheart and actually attempted to help with camp chores. Astarion bounced ideas off of her, but he didn’t tell her about the note. It felt like that was information for you to share if you wanted and you probably hadn’t intended on him learning about this information in the first place.

Shadowheart looks at him after awhile, a troubled look on her face. Shadowheart turns towards Wyll.

“Hey Wyll, they should have been back by now right?”

Wyll walks over to Shadowheart and Astarion with the same troubled expression.

“Yes, it was just a quick supply run to Last Light Inn before we take a day to recooperate,” Wyll says slowly, “I’m wondering what has held them up this long…”

Their pondering and questions were quickly interrupted by the sound of foot steps racing towards them.

“SHADOWHEART! HALSIN!”

You and Karlach were screaming their names in unison. Karlach is supporting Lae’zel and Gale is slack against you as you fight to keep him upright. The usually wonderful smell of your blood is now making him ill as you come closer to camp.

Across your sides were long, bloody scratch marks- in fact, there are claw marks all along your arms and your armor. One side of your face has a superficial scratch. Karlach appears to be in better shape, but just as scratched up nonetheless.

“We- we were ambushed by an Absolute Cultist,” Karlach exclaims breathily, “a Fist named Marcus. He was trying to bring Isobel back to Ketheric.”

Astarion watches as you help lay Gale down near Halsin and Shadowheart so they can begin to get to work, Lae’zel being laid down next to him. Shadowheart catches your wrist with her hand and gives you a Superior Healing Potion- the soft smile you offer her makes Astarion think he may have a chance.

Astarion walks back towards his tent and toys with the letter on the counter. Does he bring it up? Does he just bring it back to you and not acknowledge it? What would you even want him to do?

The noise outside had diminished as Lae’zel and Gale were recovered enough to be moved and healed in their individual tents- Shadowheart healing Gale and Halsin healing Lae’zel. It must be an early night for everyone. Astarion takes a deep breath and opens his tent flap, ready to confront you- but it looks like he didn’t have to travel very far to confront you.

There you are, cleaned up now, standing in front of Astarion’s tent looking nervous and heartbroken. In his shock, Astarion offers you his hand and gently pulls you inside, closing the flaps behind you.

“What did I do?” you blurt out, tears streaming down your face as fast as words are coming out of your mouth, “I can be useful again. I can do whatever you need me to- be whoever you need me to be.”

You take a jagged, heart wrenching inhale and he can hear you fighting the lump in your throat.

“I can’t do this alone- I just can’t,” you sob and look down at your feet, “I know what I said. I know I’m a fool for crawling back here begging you to keep pretending, but please. I can be what you need me to be, I promise. I’ll be- perfect for you. Please.”

Astarion bridges the gap between the two of you and puts your face between his hands, guiding your melancholy eyes to his.

“Darling, you have always been perfect. I have never needed you to be anything more or less than what you are. You are a Godsend.”

“Then why?” you whisper, “Why would you practice breaking up with me? What did I do?”

Astarion sits there and looks at you with bewilderment- practicing breaking up with you? He was practicing trying to ask to be with you!

He chuckles despite the tears that are slowly spilling from his eyes, “You insult me, my Love. I have no issues with breaking up with people- I think. Never really had the chance and I had no desire to end our relationship yesterday.”

You look at him with regret and guilt in your eyes. You go to move away from him- evidently worried about him rejecting you and hurting you. He moves with you, not letting you go anywhere and he kisses your forehead, one of his hands moving to the small of your back while the other remains on your cheek.

“What I was trying to tell you, my Dear,” Astarion softly whispers, “is that, regardless of my original intentions, my plan failed terribly.”

“How so?” you whisper in return.

“It was all so simple- seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me. It was easy- instinctive. 200 years of instinct had kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it and all I had to do was not fall for you.”

Astarion traces your bottom lip with his thumb, pulling you into him by pressing into the small of your back. You gasp gently at the contact.

“And that is where my nice simple plan fell apart,” he says woefully, “you’re incredible. You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”

Your eyes search his face for any signs of ingenuity or deception.

“I do too, more than anything,” you say breathlessly, “but what about everything I said yesterday? Everything I said was terrible.”

“It was,” he ponders, then he says teasingly “if my feelings weren’t so hurt and if I wasn’t the one on the receiving end- I dare say I would have been proud of you.”

“Well I learned my dramatics from the best after all.”

“I didn’t know Wyll was such a great teacher- I’ll have to ask him for tips some time,” he quips.

Your laugh lifts the painful fog that has been smothering him in his tent for the last day. Astarion pulls you down with him into his bedroll, you curl up around him and he spreads the blanket out. You lay your head on his chest and he pulls you into him tightly- inhaling your scent and savoring the thrumming of your pulse underneath his finger nails.

“Those nights when we were together,” you ask, peering up at him with worry, “did they not mean anything to you then?”

Astarion freezes before he releases a deep sigh. This may be the part where you change your mind and he is mentally preparing for it- taking account of the way you feel against him just in case this is truly the last time.

“I don’t know what real looks like,” he confesses, “being close to anyone-any kind of intimacy- was something I performed to lure people back for him.”

He feels you flinch at the mention of Cazador.

“Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing. I don’t know how to be with someone- no matter how much I’d like to.”

“I care about you deeply- we can be together without having sex for however long you need,” you pause, “you are so much more to me than sex and I adore you for so much more than just your body.”

“Really?” the shock in his voice is blatant.

“Really,” you say with a smile before laying your head back on his chest.

“I don’t know what we’re doing,” he says giddily, running his hands through your hair, “ but I know that this, this is nice.”

You hum in agreement and he draws circles on your back. Astarion basks in your presence and sits in the relief that you are back in his arms again.

“Astarion,” you break the silence, “I have to tell you something- I got a letter. It’s not… good.”

“I know, Darling,” Astarion says tightly, “you left it in here. Unfortunately I let my noisiness get the best of me.”

You both sit in the heavy silence that fills the air.

“I’m to be married off to him, Astarion,” you choke out.

“I won’t let him have you, “Astarion snarls, his voice coming out much harsher than he intended.

“But what if there isn’t a choice? What if it would protect yo-”

“No.”

He is looming over you, you are now flat on your back staring up at him. Astarion feels like a coil ready to spring. If it’s ever between him and you regarding who goes to Cazador- he’d serve a thousand life sentences before he’d ever let that vile man so much as look in your direction.

“Astarion-”

“No,” he says between clenched teeth, “you will not sacrifice yourself for me. I don’t care if you marrying Cazador and being his consort would make me mortal again. You will not be his- he cannot have you.”

You look up at him with bleary, adoring eyes, “okay.”

Astarion kisses your trembling lips and he tastes the tears staining them. Astarion pulls away and strokes your cheek softly. He lays back down and you turn towards him, tangling your hands into his hair, gently detangling it. Astarion rests his hands on your hips, using his fingers to delicately adjust you until your legs are entangled in his.

“My mom is dead, Star,” you say remorsefully “she’s gone. She was all alone and probably so afraid. I never even said goodbye before I left her to her fate- I was a coward.”

The hurt in your voice is raw and bleeding- it breaks Astarion’s heart all over again.

“I am so incredibly sorry for your mother and your loss, Little Love, “Astarion says softly, “but you are not a coward. You did what you needed to do. You were always planning on coming back.”

“I was,” you whisper, “I was going to get her first and then you.”

“Foolishly enough,” Astarion chuckles, “I never lost faith in you. I felt like if anyone could do it, it would be you- the glimpse of sunlight amongst the secondhand embarrassment that is Daisy Von.”

You giggle and press your face into his chest- the vibrations fills his chest with warmth. Astarion is so incredibly happy you are back where you belong- here with him.

“I am hardly comparable to the sun,” you say, “I think I’m a candle. Ordinary, accessible, there when you need it.”

Astarion turns over your words in his head- he agrees with the statement but disagrees with the reasoning entirely.

“You are a candle,” he says slowly, “but a candle has always been a luxury to me. It allowed me to sew or read- to have a tiny piece of my humanity back. It was nice to have a break from the dark, huddled around the small flame.”

He pauses, “ I suppose that is why I am so drawn to you. You make me feel like a person again and you are a luxury I never thought I’d be lucky enough to afford outside of those monthly visits.”

“Well, then I promise I will remain here,” you say with adoration, “your humble candle- for as long as you need me.”

“Be careful what you promise, Little Love,” Astarion teases, “if you aren’t careful, you may be stuck with me for eternity.”

“Gods, I hope so!” you say with flourish, “everyone else is terribly boring and does not appreciate my predisposition for shenanigans.”

“How ungrateful!”

“Entirely ungrateful!” you agree.

Astarion pulls you in for another kiss, a grin forming as you gasp at the suddenness of his actions. Astarion kisses the tip of your nose, both of your cheeks, and your forehead. You settle into him and he strokes your hair- your breathing evens out and you are slack against him.

Astarion takes in your sleeping figure and feels another surge of protectiveness enveloping his body. He doesn’t know how accessible his thoughts are to Cazador, but he hopes Cazador hears this one.

You cannot have her- she is mine.

_________________________________________________

Author note- should I do a part three and four with the Cazador confrontation? I’m torn- let me know your thoughts pleaseeeeee

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x you #bg3 spoilers #astarion romance #astarion x tav #bg3 #karlach #astarion acunin #astarion x f! reader #astarion x female reader

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