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blissfulparker · 3 years

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A Work in progress→T.H

Parings: Tom Holland x Actress!reader

Summary: when You and Tom both have each other as a celebrity crush, you two unknowingly take on the role of each other’s lovers in a new movie and are expected to make it real. When the director puts the two of you in a house for the weekend to get to know each other there is little more to rehearsing than just your lines.

Warnings: awkwardness in the first half, smut(oral female), sexual tension

A/n: this is based off of a blurb I did, where it was just from a physical affection prompt list that I went off on! I hope you guys enjoy 💗

Wc: 4k

Tom didn’t know why he was so nervous as he opened the large glass doors to the conference building. His palms were sweaty as he walked alone rather than with his brother and assistant Harry.

He loved working on new projects, new films, meeting new people but the scare of not knowing the new people made him nervous. At this point he normally would be able to get some sort of name, do some research on said person but this time they gave him nothing but a script.

The script was more of a love story. a serious role but one where he could be more seductive and serious, he could let go of the goofy teenager character he seemed to be stuck with.

His character, Jack, who would be the corrupt business man who falls for the one trying to bring down his company, the main female protagonist, Beth.

The meeting started at 10:00. Always being early he seemed to see someone else was too. You stand in front of the coffee machine, trying to get it to work as you waited for the meeting to start—or at least people to come in.

“Oi let me help you with that—“ he offers but a small Yelp comes from your mouth as you quickly turn around and hit your head against the British accented stranger.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry! You scared me half to death—“ you hold your head as you look up, a wave of heat washes over your body and you don’t know if it was just because you hit your head hard enough or if it was because you finally figured out who you were working with.

“I should’ve said something else first, I’m so sorry—“ fuck. He thinks as he looks at you. You who managed to make a way onto the list of celebrities he wants to work with. You who also made it on the list of celebrities he wants to date.

The fans knew quickly he had a tiny crush on you. As he once liked a fan edit of the two of you on the read carpet. He seemed to be one of the firsts to like your Instagram photos and even mentioning your name in an interview saying how pretty you were.

You were the same, with smaller fame of course. You along with half of the other population who enjoyed marvel movies and dorky characters, you fell in love with the curly haired British boy. Finding him extremely talented and a heartthrob of course, you quickly dreamt about working with him but laughed about it never coming true.

Now he was in front of you. His chin red from where your head collided with it and he only stares at you in response.

The awkward silence quickly filled as the two of you tried and laugh off the interaction.

“Tom—“

“(Y/n)—“ you both say your names at the same time. Him going in for a handshake and you going in for an awkward hug. The two of you stop and laugh it off before deciding a simple handshake was the way to go. You had never wanted to quit your entire career more than now.

“Oh! Perfect!” Finally as the tension was cut the director walked into the room. Two people followed behind and you took a deep breath already nervous for the new film and exactly what Toms role was. As far as you read, the main female character, who you were to be playing, had to be in lingerie a few times in front of the main male character. There were also sex scenes, plenty of kiss scenes and sexual tension. You were fit for the character but you were not fit for Tom. All your fantasies about him were just fantasies.

“I see the two of you have already met. But If not, (y/n) meet Tom, Tom meet (y/n) you two will be working together for the next few months as I’m sure you are aware of your roles. (Y/n) will be playing the lover and spy where Tom you will be playing the businessman. I’m sure we already know our positions…” the director starts and you swallow hard.

Tom doesn’t know if you’re looking or not to see the pink shade coming to his cheeks and making him hot. You were just an actress, he thought, an actress who just had to play the role. He was an actor as well, he reminds himself. A very good one for the fact so he didn't want to mess this up all because of one silly crush.

“We want to put you two in a house together.” The director claps his hands together making you nearly spit out the coffee you had in front of you. Tom's head snaps to look at you as you cough a bit trying to digest the words.

“You want us to live together?” Tom speaks for you it seems.

“We only want to see your chemistry! The fans, the academy, loves chemistry! Trust me, people will love the movie but they will not care if they see just two other actors acting to be in love. Not really caring you know? We want to see you guys build a bond, passion, some sort of love even if you lie to us about it to make it believable. Run through your lines, skinny dip with each other for all we care we just want to see passion!” You feel like his words are turning into a dream as he speaks. You feel your heart pounding at his words and try your hardest to keep your calm.

“And where will we be going?” You finally find the strength to speak. If it was anyone else you would not care, reminding yourself you are a good actress and have acted like you wanted to fuck a man you hate. But this was a man you actually wanted to fuck, a man you actually wanted real passion with.

“We rented you two a flat in spain,” he mentions, right, where you’ll be shooting, you think. “It’s only three days and if you want more we will give you more if you don’t we will let you free. Every expense is paid for, go to dinner, have wine, everything will be on the film. This is both of your chances at big awards this year. This is for you and for us.” You could almost feel Toms body heat as he was just as nervous as you, you didn’t know why though. He was the heartthrob, he was the actor that was wanted left and right, this was your big chance at a movie that can skyrocket your career.

The next hour feels torturous as all you could think about was what this house looked like for the two of you. Did it have two rooms? Two bathrooms? Why did your head hit his chin? Is there a bump? What if he hates you? What if he’s secretly seeing someone and just doesn’t want to announce it? All thoughts ran through your head as you had to make this your best acting gig yet. Except the most acting might be pretending not to love Tom the way you do.

Three days. That’s all it was. You would spend three days in whatever this house looked like and all you would have to do is pretend to get to know Tom. All while trying not to expose how much you truly like him.

There were rumors he had a crush on you, of course you saw the interview and noticed how he liked your pictures but you also knew his co-stars from Spider-Man so your thoughts were friendly.

Taking an Uber to the destination, you pull up to this beautiful Italian cottage. Gorgeous stone walls and large driveway, If there was one emotion to be real about this entire thing, it would be that you were spoiled with this house.

You were already nervous as people started to catch on through social media, his fans seeming to know his constant move now quickly knowing yours.

‘Stars (y/n) (y/l/n) and Tom Holland possibly take on a new film with one another: here’s what we know’

‘Why is Tom in Italy?’ ‘Is (y/n) in Italy?’ ‘Rumor is they are filming together soon’

Your heart rushed with comments you had read. Maybe this wasn’t for you, maybe you should stay with doing small movies where you were a side character or something simple. Keep the small amount of followers you had compared to Toms 40 million.

As you go up to knock on the door wondering if he’s already beat you to the place, the door opens and reveals the sight of Tom.

Another Yelp escapes your lips as you jump at Tom opening the door so quickly.

“If we’re living together I think you should hold off on scaring me.” You take a deep breath. His hair was wet, he was fresh out of a shower.

“Sorry darling! They told me your flight landed at 2:00 and well...it’s 2:00 so you aren’t supposed to be here until like 3:00.” He claims and you take a deep breath. Three days, you remind yourself, don’t mess it up.

“Oh…” you swallow.

“Not that I didn’t want to see you! It’s nice to see you again, you look really nice!” He says as you wear the sweats and the sweatshirt from the airport. “Let me help you with those.” He grabs your bags for you and you smile letting him take it. He leans in just close enough for you to smell the aftershave he put on, his muscles flex as he grabs your bags making this all the harder for you.

The night was young, fans already knew, this was your shot at making it big, Tom's shot of winning an Oscar, you two needed to work together. Pushing aside the worried one sided emotion and be able to make a movie that blows people away

“Have you ever done anything like this before?” You asked as you walked into the kitchen. It was now late, you were starving, you and Tom already getting to know each other but it was strange.

“No, I mean the most I’ve done for a chemistry read is take the person out to dinner.” He laughs a little and then runs a hand through his hair. “Speaking of dinner...should we grab something or make something. Unless you had plans of your own then that’s totally fine—“ he starts to ramble and you laugh.

“I cannot cook, so unless you can I prefer to pick something up.” You cut him off to make sure he doesn’t go on and on.

“Have you ever pizza from Italy before?” He asks and you lean against the counter.

“I’ve never been in Italy before.” You shrugged and he grew a smirk. He turns on his heels as if he already has an idea.

“Then I know a place.” He walks out of the room to grab his phone.

You feel your heart pounding as you check your phone. You made a mistake by opening your Twitter, 10k new followers, 50k mentions and plenty more all regarding Tom. You only hoped he wasn’t the type to use Twitter as it was flooded with people wanting you guys to be together.

Your mind swarms with the thought of your character again. Soon you’d have to stand in front of your celebrity crush, half naked, trying to seduce him. It was going to be more awkward if you guys were friends.

“Are you coming?” He calls out and you quickly shove your phone in your back pocket before grabbing your purse to go.

Three days and you feel like you’re already going to snap.

It was a lovely little place he brought you to. You didn’t know If he’d come to Italy often but he clearly knew a decent way around the city. The two of you sat in the corner of a dimly lit Italian restaurant, sharing pizza and feeling more comfortable with each other as the night went on. He was just another person, you thought, nothing to worry about.

“We didn’t order any wine.” You stop the server as he pours both you and Tom a glass. Tom already drunk off of the beer he had and you only enjoying his presence.

“Ah it’s on the house, such a lovely couple in such a lovely city! You two should have fun!” The server winks. You almost protest to stop him telling him that you and Tom were nearly just coworkers stuck in a house for three days.

But rather Tom thanks the server and takes the glass. Your heart pounding as you pick up the glass as well, the boys eyes already red from how much he’s had already and you can tell you have to take him home.

“You know I was nervous to be working with you.” He took a sip before setting it down. “When I saw you I was like ‘shit this is happening’ and freaked out.” He admitted and you try to hold back the butterflies in your stomach.

“You freaked out for working with me?” You swallowed and he nodded.

“Well look at you, you’re gorgeous! Anyone would be lucky to work with you, as your lover as well.” He falls back into the booth and stares at the décor on the ceiling.

“So you read all the scenes?” You ask and he nodded.

“Of course i did! I only improve when I feel like it.” He shrugs, taking another sip.

“You said you’re method too.” You remember from one interview you watched years ago. Your voice was more of a whisper, more to yourself but he grows a soft smirk as he turns his head to face you.

“So you watched my interviews.” He says feeling cocky. You roll your eyes taking another sip of wine yourself to hopefully drown out the embarrassment you just gave yourself.

“As if I don’t see you being the first to like my posts, Holland.” You avoid eye contact and rather look around the room but Tom only focuses on you.

When you catch his eyes they’re sober, this whole time he was telling stories in a drunken state and now he looks at you with glossy soft eyes as if he wants to hear more.

“So you see me liking your posts?” He teases and you finally look at him.

“I see everyone liking my posts. Why do you follow me?” You challenge and he holds back a smirk.

“You’re friends with Z, why do you follow me?” He asks back and you feel yourself straighten.

“Z is friends with a lot of people, I don’t see you following all of them?” You argue and he falls back into the booth again with a soft chuckle.

“So not only do you follow me but you stalk me?” He teases and you groan.

“Not what I meant.” You see how much wine you have left, not a lot as your nerves filled you and the wine didn’t calm you. “You liked a fan edit of us a year ago. We’ve never met until a few days ago.” You rest your head on your hand that props itself up against the table. That’s what makes him lose his game, he turns a light shade of red before quickly straightening himself up.

“You’re talented, why don’t we see more of you?” He asks about your roles.

“You’re about to see everything in a few days.” You mumble and he chokes on his wine.

Page 281

*Beth removes her robe in front of Jack, slowly stalking towards him wearing the tight black lingerie* *she crawls on top of his sleepy figure and points a gun*

It was embarrassing that such a scene turned him on after finding out who it was with. After finding out it was you, he read over every single sex scene, strip scene, makeout scene to make sure everything was real.

“Oh relax.” You hold back a smile. “You’re the Method actor, remember?” You tease. He leans forward, he’s not sure how he’s gotten so confident but he takes your glass and drinks from it before setting it down.

“Yeah, I am. We should rehearse some things, get more comfortable.” He suggests and you look at him up and down. His lips slightly stained reddish pink from the wine, his skin damp from how hot the room was, and he looked at you as if no one else was in the room.

“And where should we start?” You swallow, you can’t get shy now. You’ve dreamt about this moment and now it’s happening.

“Well, if we’re starting with their meeting, I think it would go something like this.” He leans in and places a soft kiss on your neck. You’re frozen as his lips are soft and warm, he pulls back and realizes what he’s done. His thoughts of you, his crush on you, the warm alcohol that ran through his blood all while being in Italy got the best of him.

“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done—“ he started and you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to kiss lips. His eyes go wide softly as if he was a school boy getting his first kiss.

“More wine?” The waiter comes back and Tom snaps out of it for a split second.

“We’ll take the check.”

Your hands tangled in with his messy hair, his shirt already off as he was warm from the summer heat Italy provided. His lips trail down from your lips to your neck as he plays with the strings of the summer dress you wore.

“I can’t believe this is happening.” His words mumbled into your chest as he lets the shoulders of your dress fall.

“Why? You want to admit you have a crush on me now?” you teased and when he looks up his eyes are darker. The sweet chocolate puppy dog eyes before now darkened as his lips were swollen and his face was hot. His hands rest at your hips with a tight grip as he wants more.

“You admitted to stalking my interviews and who i follow so i should be asking you that question.” he teased and you rolled your eyes. Your Only respond by pushing his head back into your chest where he planted soft kisses trailing down.

“So soft,” he takes off the bra you wore. Hes thought about this moment but would never admit it. Hes thought about how soft your skin is and how you looked under his touch with his head in between your legs—

“Do something tom.” you groan as he is on his knees for you. Your dress bunched at your waist, all exposed for him as he takes off the black lace underwear you wore under the dress.

“All for me?” he asks and your head hits the back of the wall, your hands go to his hair and he kisses gently at your thigh. “Say something, darling.” darling, you think about the way he says that word. The simple nickname that made you melt. Darling, that was going to be the death of you.

“Y-yes!” you find the words. “I-I don’t think this is apart of the script though.” You still try and be playful and just below your eyes you can see he has a playful and cocky smirk.

“This,” his thumb rubs at your clit as he looks up. His lips cherry red and his smirk is full view to you as he sees your eyes flutter shut as your head was thrown back. “This is where I improve.” he replaces his thumb with his tongue as he pumps his middle finger in and out of you. Your hands grip his hair as you moan his name, his name that you thought of so many times before this in your dreams.

Your knees go weak as his one hand pins your hips against the wall and his other fingers thrusted in and out of you while his tongue works at your clit.

“Tommy!” The nickname slipped, you didn’t mean it but you imagined it sometimes long before you met him and just had a crush.

“Huh darling? Like that? Want to cum?” His words horse and his accent thicker. “That’s right...” he almost laughs as he can see how much you’re whimpering. “Cum for me.”

You fall under his touch with soft moans leaving your lips. The wave of euphoria washes over you and you struggle to open back up your eyes and come back to reality.

He comes back up to face you, this time you have a thin layer of sweat over your forehead and your chest rises as you catch your breath. You take Tom's fingers and take them into your mouth. Acting as if it were him in your mouth you work your tongue around his finger before taking them out with a pop.

His eyes stare and he almost winces at how hard he is. How hard you've made him.

“This is going to be the best damn movie i've ever filmed.” he nearly whispers as you bite down on your lip before pulling him back into your lips.

This was going to be the best six months of your life.

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andreafmn · 3 years

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Running In Circles - Chapter 1

Word Count: 3,196

Characters: Female Reader Rossi Character, Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid, Jennifer “JJ”Jareau, Emily Prentiss, Penelope Garcia, George Foyet, Multiple Unsubs and Victims

Story Description: (Y/N) Rossi is following in her father’s footsteps by joining the BAU team as a profiler. The girl genius knew almost everything but she could have never predicted falling for Aaron Hotchner, her boss and her father’s friend. in their world mutual feelings are not enough to push them together. Will all the adversities and obstacles they face pull them together or push them apart forever?

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Criminal Minds, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Jeff Davis and CBS Network. The only thing I own is Arden Rossi, any upcoming characters, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others' story line.

Chapter: 1/?

Chapter Description: (Y/N) remebers her first day in the job and recounts all the cases and events that led to the downfall of George Foyet.

A/N: I decided to say fuck the anxiety of posting and put up my Aaron fanfiction. It’s been gathering dust in my documents folder and I love writing too much to keep it to myself. I’m not sure how many chapters this will have but there’s already 8 chapters all finished up. Soon I’ll be posting ff of all the fanfictions I enjoy also! If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories (I also hope to start taking requests if ya’ll want) Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

Next->

Chapter 1

“Good morning, BAU!” I said as I walked through the doors of the elevator and entered the bullpen. I could still remember how it felt the first time I got here.

I walked out of the elevator and made my way to the first office on the left. I was to meet

SSA Aaron Hotchner for an interview to join the BAU. My hands were shaking, and my body was getting warmer by the second. But I remembered my father’s encouraging words. “You’re gonna do great, mia bella.”

Not only was I extremely young, but I also had a lot to live up to. Being the daughter of SSA David Stephen Rossi was no easy task. He was an amazing agent, mentor, and father. He always pushed me to be the best at everything I did. When I started high school, I decided to get a head start on my college studies and applied to dual enrollment. When I graduated I did so with a Bachelor’s in Computer Science. Then, I worked my way to a Master’s in Psychology and Social Work, and a Doctorate in Criminal Justice. At the same time, my father trained me as a profiler. All my life I knew I wanted to be in the FBI, just like him. I was always impressed at all he did and wanted to be just like my hero. The day I told him I had been recruited by the FBI and was set to work in the BAU he said it had been the greatest day of his life.

Now my shaking hand raised to softly knock on the door before me.

“Come in,” someone said from inside. The door softly creaked as I opened and was met by a tall man with dark hair and a shorter blonde woman. “Agent Rossi, welcome.”

“Thank you, it’s an honor to be here.” I smiled and shook Aaron Hotchner’s and Erin Strauss’ hands.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Agent Rossi,” Erin smiled. “Have to say, you have a very impressive curriculum and your disinvolvement in our past interviews and tests have been outstanding.”

I smiled and turned the bracelet on my wrist for comfort.

“I must concur with Chief Strauss,” said Hotch. “I believe you will be a great addition to the BAU team.”

After sharing a few pleasantries and being handed my badge and gun, I was following Hotch to the briefing room to meet the rest of the team. Formally, at least. I had heard everything about them when I spoke with my father. He left no detail out.

“Morning, everyone,” Hotchner started. “I called you all in early today so you could meet the newest addition to the team. This is Agent (y/n) Rossi.”

To the sound of my name most of the mouths in the room dropped.

“Rossi, as in David Rossi?” The slender, messy haired agent said. I could only assume that was Spencer Reid. As my father had described him, a curly mess dressed in vests.

I nodded.

“Rossi, you didn’t tell us you had such a beautiful daughter.” That would be Derek Morgan. The hottie Casanova with a silver tongue.

“I hadn’t?” My father questioned and smirked, knowing full well the answer.

“Well, he’s talked a lot about all of you,” I smiled.

“All good things I hope,” Emily smiled.

“Great things,” I returned the smile. “I could probably make out who is who by the things he’s told me.”

“Go ahead,” Aaron challenged.

“Alright,” I cleared my throat and started going around the table. “Curly hair, vests, analyzing everything I’ve done and said since I walked in… you’re Spencer Reid.”

He smiled brightly.

“Tall, dark, handsome, and a silver tongue. Plus, you checked me out as soon as the doors of the elevator opened… Derek Morgan.”

He smirked.

“Calm, cool, and collected. Quiet but present, inspecting my presence here… you’re Emily Prentiss.”

“She’s good,” Emily muttered to Morgan beside her. I continued.

“And last but not least, bright colors, fun accessories,” I said looking at Garcia. “Even though you’re smiling, you’re not sure about me yet because you don’t like change and are probably going to dig up everything you can on me as soon as you can… Penelope Garcia.”

She stiffened and Derek chuckled.

“Don’t worry, I get it. I do not like change that much either. And here,” I reached my hand into my bag to pull out a rather thick folder. “I’ll save you the work. Background check, complete internet history, social medias, and all the whatnots you would need to build a very extensive profile.”

“Oh, thank you,” she reached out her hand and grabbed the folder, smiling at the floor.

“And well, I already know Agent Hotchner and my father, so they don’t need much of an introduction.”

“No, but you do,” my father said joining my side. “Tell them a bit about yourself.”

“Well, I have a bachelor, two masters, and a doctorate degree: I’m 23, I’m Rossi’s daughter…” In the middle of my thought process dad cut in.

“She’s beautiful, she’s intelligent, and she’s the one I call when I’m stuck on a case.” I smiled.

“She also passed every test with flying colors,” Aaron added. “And her profiling skills are exceptional.”

“Thank you,” I blushed. “I think it runs in my blood.”

“Well, welcome to the team,” Aaron continued. “Let’s get to work.”

That was almost three years ago. A couple of days after, I met JJ who had visited with her newborn son Henry.

In very little time I had grown attached to this family. I was most of the time partnered with Spence and we developed an amazing bond. It did help that I loved playing chess and we could have highly erudite talks. Also, I very much enjoyed his over sharing of facts. But really, I was close to them all. On my spare time I was found watching movies with Derek and Penny, perusing book shops with Reid, having girl nights with JJ, Penny, and Emily, or sipping on top grade scotch while finishing paperwork with Hotch.

Spending time with Hotch was my favorite pastime of all.

I realized I had developed feelings for him the day he was captured by Foyet and left at the hospital. Receiving the call from Emily that she had found blood at his apartment literally knocked the air out of my lungs. Reid could tell that my reaction would not have been the same where it had been any of the other members. For some time, he had deduced my attraction to our unit chief. Once we had captured Patrick Meyers and Reid had been sent off to a hospital, we sped off to St. Sebastian Hospital. I could feel my heartbeat going faster and faster as I felt time slipping by. More than once I had asked Morgan to go faster and with sorry eyes, he told me he was going as fast as he could.

Seeing Hotch on a hospital bed, greatly hurt, broke me. I knew everyone on the team, just like Reid, had figured it out. I was the first one in when the doctor announced he was waking up. His eyes fluttered open as JJ, the last one to enter, made it in.

“Where am I?” He groggily asked.

“In the hospital,” dad answered.

My eyes could not leave his face, even as all I wanted was to imagine him in a different state. Derek told him how he made it to the hospital and Emily asked Hotch what had happened. Closing his eyes, Hotch explained step by step how everything had gone down. Upon more investigation, we quickly figured what Foyet had taken and, a page from his planner that held his ex-wife’s and son’s current address and a picture of them, respectively.

Once we had that information, the team knew exactly what to do. Emily and I volunteered to stay behind and update the team if anything changed. As soon as he went to sleep, we let out a locked breath. But the relief was short lived as his pulse started to get exceedingly fast.

“What happened?” The doctor asked.

“I don’t know,” I croakily muttered out. Emily put a hand on my back as I softly touched his arm.

“Agent Hotchner. Can you hear me?” The doctor called out. “Agent Hotchner?”

He finally opened his eyes and responded. “I’m okay.”

The doctor asked us out of the room as she checked on him and Emily helped stabilize my walk as we made it out. I saw the doctor and a nurse check him as I picked the skin of the thumb of my right hand. Emily noticed and grabbed it, knowing well of my nervous ticks. The other being closing my fist hard enough to dig my nails in it.

“He’ll be okay,” she smiled. “You know he’s a fighter.”

I softly smiled at her, not knowing if she said it for me or for her to believe it too.

Once we knew Haley and Jack were safe the three of us let out a relieved sigh. Hotch squeezed the hand I had been holding as he slept, needing the reassurance of a trusted presence next to him. He asked Emily about the scene at his apartment, but she could not give him definite answers. In a moment of silence, she excused herself to go buy coffee and I took this chance to ask him what had been going through my head.

“Do you wanna talk about what happened?” I asked worry evident in my eyes.

Sighing, he responded. “I don’t know. After he stabbed me the first time, it all goes blank.”

He looked straight into my eyes and I could tell he knew more than he let on, but now was not the time to push him. He had been drained: physically, emotionally, and mentally. In that moment, Haley walked in and I let go of his hand to leave them to talk. From outside of the room, I could hear the heartbreaking moment and knowing he was in pain shattered my heart. That day had absolutely devastated us as a team, but it only made us more determined to find Foyet and end him.

But life and work went on. The whole month he was off, I spent most of my free time helping in his recovery and his healing, using the little training I had in wound treatment. The other part of my time I spent with Reid, who was also in recovery. A far less pressing injury, but an injury, nonetheless. And he was my best friend, so I could not completely abandon him.

We were all worried about him coming back to the team with Foyet still out there, but dad reassured us he would only be more motivated. Yet the first case back, he was different. He was usually professional and understanding, now it seemed that no matter how well we worked, we would make a mistake. And when we finally tracked down the unsub and he made his way inside the house, no vest, and no gun, I knew there was something different in him. I tried to follow him inside, but dad stopped me.

“We have to trust him,” he told me. Even with those words we were all unsure of the outcome. My head was working 1,000 miles a minute coming up with different ways this could all end up in, and when I heard the gunshots, my mind only went to the darkest end. Quickly we stormed in the house and saw Hotch putting handcuffs on Darrin, and a very dead Jarvis on a recliner.

My father spent most of his time with me reassuring me that Hotch was still the same man he had been a month before. And I spent most of my time with Hotch reassuring him that he was not alone.

At the end of most cases Emily, dad, and I sat with Hotch in his office to drink a cup of scotch and unwind after a stressful day. I stayed nights overtime often and was there on the night that Strauss had landed a surprise visit to his office. The next day he became hyper focused on Derek’s work, which later he revealed to me the reason why. The bureau was questioning his leadership and he meant to step down as unit chief at the end of that week. This ended with Derek becoming active unit chief whilst Hotch was being investigated.

The days that followed were quite strange. We were used to taking orders from Hotch and now taking orders from Morgan was completely different. But business went on as usual. We worked on cases just as hard and solved them just as efficiently. With one case always hanging on us like a dark cloud. George Foyet. With every case we finished we knew he was still out there, which meant that Hotch was still hurting and hunting.

But the dreaded day had caught up to us. With the last case we had been on in Hampton we knew Foyet had found Hotch. He was taunting Hotch, dangling his life in front of him. Once he had sent us that calling card, we pressed harder on our investigation, pulling at whatever string we could find.

Thankfully, JJ pulled our medication string harder when she found out about the ability to substitute prescriptions with over-the-counter meds. We worked tirelessly and strongly to shorten the investigation part of this case. We needed to catch him, fast.

“Wait a minute, guys. Foyet likes things that have meaning to him,” I said looking at the map presented in front of us. I could see that Reid knew where I was going.

“The eye of providence, the addresses in blood he wrote on the bus that led back to him,” Spence added, and I nodded.

“Maybe he’s doing the same with his name,” I said as Reid wrote down George Foyet on the board.

“Like an anagram or something,” Emily chimed. Quickly, Reid got to work on the theory crossing out and circling letters. Adding ‘The Reaper’ onto the board and utilizing it, once Hotch had pointed out Foyet gave himself that name. He kept up this process until the name Peter Rhea came to existence.

Garcia tracked down the name and quickly found an address in Arlington. We had found him, but it was just too easy.

We were waiting outside of the apartment building for too long, waiting for something, anything. Once Morgan had given his orders, the plan was set in motion. Still, something in the back of my mind kept telling me it was too easy. We stormed the empty apartment and searched for anything that would help us find his actual location. His computer was quickly deleting files, but Garcia was better. Haley’s protection unit was in trouble.

As soon as it clicked, we were on our way to the stash house. Inside the house Marshal Sam Kassmeyer was hurt, losing blood quickly. With the little he was able to tell us we knew that Haley and Jack were in danger. Sam had not told Foyet anything, but George was smart, unfortunately. He had disguised himself as a Marshal and lied to Haley to get her where he needed her. Only him had communication with her. Everyone was on edge wanting nothing more than to find this man.

In the office we heard Hotch’s conversation with Foyet. He was working hard to buy some time for us to find him but knowing George he already had a plan set in motion. He had eyes on the pair, he was with them. I could only imagine what Hotch was going through.

“Alright, Foyet has to be in control,” Derek said, breaking me out of my thoughts. “He had Haley come to him.”

“Yeah, but where would he take her?” Spencer asked. We all started thinking and speculating. There was something in the call that told Hotch where to go. That was the key.

“Reid, what did he say, exactly?” I emphasized on the last word.

“Haley’s hair looks good dark. She’s lost some weight. It must be because of all the stress you caused her. Where’s the little man? Oh, there he is now. Do you think he likes Captain America because of you? That’s your wife on the other line. Hold, please. Hi. Open the gate and I’ll drive in.” Spencer recited in a monotone voice.

“Open the gate?” My father questioned.

“It would be someplace with the biggest emotional impact for Hotch,” I said looking down to organize my thoughts.

“And Haley has access to the gate,” Derek added, and it clicked.

“Their house,” I said. “Where they lived together.”

“Of course,” Emily said. “Foyet planned this all the way to the end. It’s everything to him.”

“He wants to take over Hotch’s house, to be in control, to prove his dominance,” I finished. We knew where he was going, and I was sure Hotch knew too and was already on his way.

On the way, Hotch got a call from Foyet’s phone. It was Hayley. I heard the emotion grabbing him by the throat. We could hear the whole conversation and my heart broke when he asked Hayley the magic words.

“Tell Jack that I need him working on the case,” Hotch breathed out. One drunken night he had told me about how he had found Jack inside a storage bench in his office after he had knocked on it. The smiling kid had told his father that he was working the case with Hotch. Hotch knew what was going to happen and so did I. This was the best chance Jack had at survival.

When Hotch told Jack to hug his mom and he said I love you, I let out a loud sob and Emily grabbed my hand tightly for support. But I was not the one that need the care. Hotch did. Haley’s words would forever be engraved in my head, and in the heads of our friends.

Three gunshots rang through the line right before it cut. Then I could not hold back the tears. I knew. I just knew.

Hotch was the first one on the scene and all I thought of was that he did not have a vest or any backup, so god knows what could have happened. For the second time in a matter of months all I could ask for was that Morgan drove faster.

At the house, Morgan was the first one in and the scene that unfolded in front of us was heartbreaking. Hotch was hitting Foyet over and over, and Derek had to hold him back. He was dead. I surveyed the scene and instinctively went to Hotch’s office, Hotch following close behind. Jack had to be there. I let Hotch walk past me and watched as relief overtook him when he lifted the lid.

“I work the case, daddy,” Jack said. Unbeknownst to everything that had happened. “Just like you said.”

“You did a great job buddy,” Hotch lifted his son out of the bench.

“What happened to you, daddy?”

“I’m okay. I want you to go outside with Ms. Jareau. Ok?” The child walked to JJ and she took him out in her arms.

And Hotch let go. He silently cried and I helped him make his way to where Haley laid. I stood by the door and turned away a police officer. Morgan stood up and squeezed my shoulder as he left the room behind the officer. I stayed outside of the doorframe, listening to the sobs of a strong man.

Next->

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stellocchia · 3 years

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Alright, now that I got some sleep, time for an overly long analysis on Tommy’s second prison visit!

I’m only talking about character in the rp from here on out, not the cc’s unless explicitly stating otherwise

First of all, a clarification is in order: was it Dream’s plan from the very start to get put in prison to end up in this situation? No. Does this mean he couldn’t have caused this to turn things in his favour? Also no.

Dream has proven before that he’s a rather flexible character (kinda has to be with a nemesis like Tommy), he’s been put multiple times in unexpected situations and managed to come out of top. We don’t know if he expected L’Manburg to be reborn after the 16th, and yet he managed to have the whole cabinet wrapped around his fingers. He didn’t expect Tommy to threaten him with Spirit, and yet he spun it around on him. We also know he didn’t expect Tommy to leave Logsteshire (he was talking about it with Punz, it’s the reason he went to check on him shortly after because he realized he may have stepped too far and broken Tommy out of his manipulation there) which offered him the opportunity to frame him for the community house disaster later on.

He is nothing if not resorceful.

Another thing we have to discuss when talking about the visit is the themes of their relationship:

- Dream’s possessiveness/obsession

- The whole Dream finding Tommy “fun”

- Their “game”

More under the cut

- For the first point, when I say “possessivness” I mean that Dream literally regards himself almost as Tommy’s owner. Don’t believe me? Let’s talk about how he treats Tommy’s canon life then!

Remember all the way back during exile? To keep Tommy in line Dream consistently threatened to take his last life, implying that he would have been fine with Tommy dying, yet, as soon as Tommy showed signs of wanting to take his own life, Dream bust out the line “it’s not your time to die yet”, 2 times in fact. Why? Well, Dream wants control in all things, not only that, but he clearly thinks he’s in the right in wanting it. Of course the life of his favourite toy is no exception. Also let’s not forget about the terrifying scene on top of the obsidian grid where, when Tommy said that their story would be over soon, Dream immediately took control again assuring him it would never be over.

There is also Tommy explicitly stating that Dream was “borderline his owner”, in case we needed an additional affirmation, in the stream where Mexican Dream made an appearance in exile.

Also, I have to mention that during the first Prison visit Dream, when talking about what he missed, grouped Tommy together with “his stuff”... can’t get much clearer then that

- Dream’s describing Tommy as “Fun” has been a reoccurring creepy theme between them. But is it soley done out of manipulation or does Dream actually feel that way in his twisted world view? I’d say a bit of both to be honest.

Clearly there is a level of gaslighting with it were he used to say it at the very start of Tommy’s exile to get him in the frame of mind of considering Dream his friend and trying to convince him that they always had fun together (trying to get him to switch his anger from being directed at Dream to being directed at his old friends), but that’s not all.

Dream, in cutting all his known attachments, is left with only Tommy as an attachment, Jack is right on that one, which is the rason why his obsession seems so extreme. That said, it’s pretty obvious that he does sort of find his relationship with Tommy “fun”. It’s the reson why literally everyone else is a replaceable pawn, but Tommy isn’t. Don’t get me wrong here: he doesn’t see him as a human and, despite him “caring” in his twisted way, there is NOTHING healthy about their relationship. But it is still important to point out that Tommy is extremely important to Dream.

- Their game is something we’re all well aware of. They are regarded by so many people as the hero and the villain of the server, even though neither of them accepts their assigned role. That said they both view the other in the role assigned to them. Dream doesn’t see himself as a villain, but he does see Tommy as a hero and vice-versa. And, just like that, the stage for their “game” is set.

Only problem? Only one of them is playing the game. We know this from the season 2 finale: the reason Dream kept coming down and trusting Tommy was because he thought Tommy was as attached to their “game” as he was, but he was wrong. Tommy HAS other attachments, plenty of them, he’s not dependent on Dream and that’s also probably why Dream is so obsessed with him in the first place: everyone else is predictable, easy to use. They aren’t surprising, they aren’t “fun” (remember that? Remember Dream goning “Tubbo isn’t fun” when Tommy said he had as much value as himself? Because I sure do) they are boring pawns.

You’d think he may think differently of someone like Techno but, despite him acknowledging his strenght, he has no reason to think he won’t be able to use him every time at the smallest promise of violence as it worked every time before. George and Sapnap? When’s the last time Dream showed them he cared in any way? He used them time and time again and then left them behind when the relationships required work on his side to mantain. He didn’t even speak to Sapnap during his visit! He regards Quackity as barely an annoyance (remember what history left on him in the Lost City of Mizu? Just a Fool). Punz and Sam were both people he paid, only means to an end. They ALL played his game and followed his rules, which is what made them predictable. It's what makes them so replaceable.

Now that the themes are established, let’s move on to the analysis of the visit itself!

First of all: big foreshadowing from Sam with the missing books (which Tommy admitted to not remembering the content of) and from Tommy saying how much he trusted and appreciated Sam. It doesn’t have much to do with the analysis, but we all pointed it out.

That said, what was Tommy’s objective with this visit? Closure. Tommy wanted to make their game finally stop for good, he wanted to reclaim the control over his life that he hasn’t had for a while now. Not over his literal last life nor over hid day to day life. Both used to be controlled by Dream.

Dream “loosing” his clock is the first information we learn. But, remember during Bad’s visit when Bad convinced Sam to give Dream one last chance to get his clock back if he behaved? And then again with Sapnap? Dream wanted the clock to go, that’s why he kept burning it despite the warnings. Why? Could it be that he was planning to get someone to stay with him in there? Isolation affects you much harder when you’re not aware of the passage of time after all...

“That’s the Tommy I know!” from the start of the visit Dream is trying to re-establish their “bond” and get Tommy in the mindset of them being “friends” again. I mean, it’s not a coincidence that he’s never been this talkative or friendly in any of the visits from other people.

Other point in favour of Dream having planned this long stay is the sheer number of potatoes he had stored. Also, may I add that he immediately started giving them to Tommy? He started before the tnt and explosions, before he should have known Tommy was gonna stay. He never did this before during any of the visits we’ve seen. Establishing his role as provider again like back in exile I see...

Dream also started immediately demanding for Tommy to visit him more, but Tommy does turn it down just as quickly by explaining that that would be the last visit (if Dream wasn’t planning to act this time, he changed his mind in this moment. He’s very adaptable remember? And his main accomplice was online...). Of course, Dream isn’t happy about it.

We already established that Tommy is the only one he finds “fun” (as far as we know), having him stopping visitations entirely wouldn’t be good for Dream. There is also the fact that Tommy is deciding to move on on his own. It’s Tommy’s choice under Tommy’s complete control and Dream has already shown he’s not too kin on that being a thing.

“Anything you want to say to me now, you have to say to me now, because I’m not visiting you again” “Why?” I’m highlighting this piece of dialogue because I think it’s pretty indicative of Dream still being convinced that they’re both still playing the game. Sure, Tommy outplayed him for now, but the game is not over, is it? Tommy can’t just decide to drop him can he? They both have so much “fun” after all...

Of course though, to Tommy the “why” should be obvious. Because of Dream he’s struggling with severe ptsd. He’s afraid of plains biomes, of lava, of heights to a certain degree, of black stone (both because of the Attachments vault and the Final Control Room on this one), of tnt, of small holes (big enough to drop your items in as he said), of giving up his stuff and of Dream acting Friendly. Dream hurt him a great deal to the point were he’s not managing to settle down even now, he’s still afraid. How can Dream not see how he hurt him? How can he not understand? In Tommy's mind it just doesn't make sense.

TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES (had to add this because it was just funny... why are there always bloopers with this 2?)

Potatoes again. Again the tnt had not started to go off yet. And Tommy eats them again immediately, of course. I can’t stress this enough, but this is done again to re-establish the dependency tommy had on Drem during exile. While he didn’t entirely depend on dream for food (he barely ate and he had Mushroom Henry), he used to be entirely dependent on him for protection, getting to the point where he would hardly defend himself from the mobs when they attacked him even when Dream wasn't around. Of course Dream can’t provide “safety” while he’s in prison, so he has to find something else.

“You had all this shit coming” “I did but... you know... maybe one day” “No! Have you seen this prison? It’s kind of the most secure thing ever” They are talking about two different things here. Dream is implying that, maybe, they’ll let him out in the future while Tommy, having already decided to move on and not worry about Dream anymore, is implying that the only way Dream is getting out is if he manages to escape, which he won’t. Quite different from the first visit were Tommy showed quite a bit of hesitance when asked if he would ever let Dream out.

“Unless you have extreme therapy” Tommy recognizing the importance of therapy I see! No, but, more importantly, this goes to show that Tommy is moving on from his exclusively vengful mindset he had at the start (which was more then understandable, btw). At the start of this visit he said he didn’t think that Dream deserved to die anymore and now he’s recognizing that he needs help, Tommy however also knows he’s not the one who should be helping him, he can’t. Still, he’s empathizing with him, because he can’t help doing so. Despite everything, Tommy always tends to see others as their own individuals, even when the same is often not true in reverse.

“I mean exile wasn’t that bad... right? I mean, we hung out” again, tying it back to the themes in their relationship, this fits so well. Of course exile wasn’t that bad, right? After all: why would Tommy have needed anyone else when he had his Best Pal Dream? And here’s the thing: we can’t know how much of what Dream says is just manipulation and how much of it he believes, but Dream has shown enough signs of being dependent on Tommy as his only attachment that we can assume there is, at the very least, some level of truth in this. I mean, if you remember back when he blew up Logstedshire, he didn’t even wanna believe that Tommy was suicidal. Tommy told him directly, but was dismissed. Why? Not because Dream wasn’t extremely opposed to him taking his own life, he’d already shown that not to be the case. Perhaps because he actually didn’t think it was that bad? Maybe he didn't want to admit he pushed him too far? Did he actually view himself and Tommy to be Dream’s own twisted version of “friends”? It’s a possibility and it’s what this visit seems to imply.

“When I’m around you I feel like my brain is conditioned to be your friend, but also when I have a knife I wanna just plunge it into your heart... you don’t make me a good person!” This seems to be a rather recurrent theme with Tommy and the mentor figures in his life. Wilbur trying to convince him (albeit not managing to) to just blow it all up and give in to his aggressive nature. Techno wanting to “bring him to the side of evil” and making him more violent in the process. Now we have confirmation that Dream himself makes him lash out more (though we could see this already when he was in exile in how he lashed out at Jack Manifold without the latter having done anything to deserve it). There is also the confusion to point out. While Tommy is trying to move on he’s clearly in no way “healed”, he’s still very much suffering from the consequences of Dream’s abuse and manipulation. He still doesn’t know exactly how to feel about him because, despite everything, he feels compelled not to hate him entirely.

“You’re a bad guy” “Well I did bad things, but everyone thinks they’re right from their perspective” “That’s not true” I haven’t seen almost anyone talk about this exchange, but it’s such an important one! As we said, Tommy views Dream as a villain, Dream doesn’t (he admits to having done bad things, but not to being bad because of them). Dream also sees Tommy as a hero, but Tommy doesn’t (Tommy doesn’t even view himself as “the good guy” in his own story, which ties in to his big self worth problems). It’s an interesting dynamic to be sure.

“Well I think I’m right. I did bad things, but I did them for good reasons” “What good reasons?” “I wanted to bring the server together you know? Make it a big happy family” This is the second time Dream brings up unity as his ultimate goal (the first being with Punz). Of course we know that the “unity” he wants it’s under his complete control. It’s not an objective that we can see as positive, but he does, or, at least, if he’s telling the truth about it, he may actually believe in it. Now, while this is the second time he brought up “unity” directly he did also strongly imply in the season 2 finale that that was his intention when explaining he was doing everything to get the server to “how it used to be”, back in the idealized past with no conflicts that never existed. Dream is deluded in the literal sense of the word, I would say it’s pretty probable there is at least some truth in his declared objective (truth in the form of him actually believing the bs he spews).

At this point Tommy is done. He’s drawing an end to the visit and Dream started getting more frantic. He started insisting on how he’s “changing” and insisting for Tommy to go visit him again. Ngl, I think this was probably to buy time for his accomplice (who is very possibly enderwalk!Ranboo) to get there. Because, if he let Tommy go, their game would truly be over, and Dream can’t stand that.

And cue the explosions!

So: Dream managed to buy enough time and, by the prison's protocols, Tommy is now stuck with him up to 7 days. He can’t leave which means Dream gets another chance to force him into continuing their game.

Quite a few people pointed it out, but, from this point onwards, Dream gets much more assertive and controlling in his demeanor. He drops the whole “insecure” act that he had going on in his enunciation and general behaviour and goes back to being like the old Dream (you would almost think that all that talk about “having changed” was just absolute bs, though he keeps insisting on it throughout)

Tommy’s behaviour also changes. He gets much more paniked (no doubt a combination of way too many of his triggers being present at once) and pliant. He starts calling out for Sam and asking to be let out but, of course, that doesn’t happen as Sam has to take care of the security breach first and foremost.

Dream starts immediately harping on Tommy being stuck there (probably to increase his panic, as he's easier to influence when he's distressed), first pointing out how “Sam can’t hear him” and then that the tnt must indicate a “security problem” (which he then explains he knows the consequences of because he wrote the book). By now he’s dropped his meek act entirely and he’s showing to be much more smug and self assured (a big contrast with Tommy having a very obvious panic attack). As we already said: he got what he wanted, he basically won already. All he needs to do now is get Tommy back to how he used to be in exile (”when they had fun” in Dream’s words...).

At this point there is only one question left to be answered: Why did he do all of this? How does this benefits dream?

Clearly this didn’t help him to get out. The security may actually increase because of it. Right? Well...

“I mean... if you want a way to get out, let’s get out together! We can work it out, we can-” “Fuck off” “Then there is no way out” I’m going out on a limb here and saying that, perhaps, Dream may know a way to get out provided 2 people cooperate on it. Tommy wouldn’t help him yet, but, who knows what he may do after spending way too much time locked in a small room, with a lava fall on the side and Dream to top off the list of his worst nightmares...

“Are you trying to get out?” “I’m not trying to get out, I’m not trying to get out!” a bit of a contradiction here, considering he proposed getting out together like 2 minutes before (coupled with his insistence on “one day...”)... however “I’m not trying to get out (yet)” may be a way to interpret his words more truthfully. If he just needed an accomplice to get out, he would have probably used Ranboo, but there is something else he wants as well...

(btw, potatoes AGAIN multiple times, especially every time Tommy is particularly distressed, and Dream also brings up Tommy being on his last canon life again in the context of this being “just like exile”... man do be trying hard with those parallels...)

You see, he already told us that he still sees his objective as good. He still wants control. He still wants his game to go on. And there is one person he elected to be the key to everything...

“I’m telling you you’re stuck in here for a little while with me, were we can bond, we can talk, just like old times, right? You know... just like exile” “Tommy this is the best thing that’s happened to me since I got in this prison, because now we can be company, we can stay together!” “Fine, fine, you’re done with me in a couple days, when you get out of here” “Tommy it’s not that bad! We can- we have lot’s of time to bond” Ngl... something tells me his other objective is very obvious... and we talked about it to death by now. But, in case it wasn't clear to someone, he wants to get back what (or who in his case) he considers to be his most cherished possession (again, do NOT interpret this as a "good" thing. It isn't. Dream literally treats Tommy as his toy, it isn't healthy and I've seen way too many people in chat trying to imply otherwise and calling it "cute". It's not cute, it's abuse)

“Tommy you’re stuck in here with me wether you like it or not, ok?! Wether you like it or not you’re in here with me for a WHILE, we’re gonna talk, we’re gonna have lot’s of fun” I just wanted to point out again how much Dream’s demeanor changed from the start now that he’s back in control. He’s not asking Tommy to talk to him, he’s not giving him a choice in it. Tommy already said how he doesn’t wanna talk and “get to know him better”, but that doesn’t matter. He has no power anymore. He doesn’t have the power to leave NOR the power to ignore Dream, as much as he wants to. Also, after this, Dream seriously ramps up the whole “We’re gonna have so much fun!” shtick...

And you want to know the saddest part of the ending? Tommy is already cracking (honestly, not surprising. He’s been through WAY too much by now...)

He started asking Dream for confirmation of whether all of this was “serious” (just like he needed to ask if things were real back in exile... or generally Dream’s opinion on everything). He also asked for more potatoes in a dejected tone (I know it may not seem that serious, but, as I said, it is just another way to create the dependency that Dream wants), showing a beginning of acceptance for Dream’s role as provider once again. Together with the very obvious “I can’t do this” and the black screen right after it creates a very worrying picture.

In conclusion: Dream is already dependant on Tommy, but the opposite not being true was a big part of his downfall. So, before he can get out, he has to work on getting Tommy back to exile!Tommy only this time he’ll be even more careful not to do some dumb mistake probably...

As anxious as I am to see how this will develop I do also think it’s one of the most interesting outcomes they could have had!

Also can we please take a moment to appreciate how WELL cc!Dream anc cc!Tommy manage to handle this incredibly serious scenes? Like, they bounce off of each other perfectly and, as someone who’s done theater themselves, I cannot commend them for managing to do so well in IMPROV enough!

They are honestly so great! Let’s get some serious love and appreciation for them to close on a positive note!

Also @mysweatymakerstudentworld

#tommyinnit #dreamwastaken #tw suicide #tw abuse #tw manipulation #exile arc #dream smp #Dream smp spoilers #long post #my post #analysis #relationship analysis #this is the sequel to rapunzel where she's stuck on the tower with mother goethel #I can't imagine it ending well...

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creativeashproductions · 3 years

Text

What's a Knife Between Onscreen Family // Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Filming an emotionally wrought scene on the set of your current role as a regular goes very wrong very fast. Expecting the scene to be the most taxing of the day you find yourself in the ER getting a transfusion. It’s all fun and games until someone’s holding a sharp knife incorrectly, guess it’s just something in common with co-star Jared Padalecki.

Warnings: Swearing, blood, fear, injuries, hospital, needles, angst, and fluff

Words: 3.5k (including lyrics)

A/N: I watched a part of a panel from a Supernatural con and found it hilarious that Jensen accidently stabbed Jared. So I had to write that for a Charlie Gillespie fic. Link to the video talking about the stabbing is right below this message.

Jensen Ackles Accidentally Stabbed Jared Padalecki during filming From 1:00-6:00

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX PLEASE!

Masterlist

It had to be one of the most emotionally taxing scenes in your entire career as an actress on a physically demanding show. The scene had been incredibly mentally draining the daughter of a Winchester. It had been once season recurring, one series regular and now filming the third season. As the teenage Winchester, it threw a wrench in all the plans and the reckless character gave no shits.

“Okay, this is our last scene for the day!” Robert Singer, the director of his episode, called out from off stage. Standing at the top of the stairs in the Bunker, you jumped in close with a scrunched nose at the squishy sound.

Over the railing, both Jared and Jensen nodded their support from the ground level with concerned expressions. Ever since you joined the cast in season 13, they had become fathers to you. The sight of you drenched in stage blood was enough to churn their stomachs.

“I gave you the barebones of the scene so work with it. Briar’s traumatized after fighting for her life and has been gone for a while.” Robert explained, ��Cas couldn’t find her. I want this to be a tribute like Dean in season 10 episode 14: The Executioner’s Song.”

Taking a deep breath in your emotions channelled into a hurricane in your chest, clenching your fingers on the knife.

“Action!”

Pacing the floor plan of the Bunker is two brothers bonded by sorrow, pain, sacrifice and love. Each throwing out locations on where Briar could be, Jack and Cas had been little help. Sam’s heart clenched tight bypassing images straight to torture. The kind of torture he had endured over the years.

Dean’s mouth opened to suggest another place when the Bunker door creaked open. The red converse appeared before the soggy jeans as the teen slowly made her way down the steps. Briar Winchester shook like a leaf staring off in the distance as the blood congealed on her face and hands.

“Briar.” Dean slowly spoke, moving towards the girl. His green eyes lit up in fury as the seventeen-year-old flinched back. Dean’s hand gently took the stained knife from the young girl.

“I-I didn’t mean to do it.” The meek voice appeared so unlike the usual confidence Briar talked with. In exhaustion, Briar’s knees collapsed, sending the teen right into Dean’s arms.

The stoic man gripped the youngest Winchester as his waist bearing her weight against his while Sam circled to be behind Dean. The choked sob echoed by another escaped the family huddle; one from Briar and the other from Dean.

“Dad.” Briar choked clenching her arms around the green-eyed adult’s shoulders, craving the safety of her father.

Ever since Dean could remember he had had a strict rule of always practising safe sex, he didn’t want a kid. Not in a world that had it out for Winchesters and not one where he might hold his child’s dead body in his arms. That all changed when Cas delivered Dean to a county jail where Briar was held just for a minor assault charge on a wealthy bully.

Dean never let himself want a future with the picket fence and the dog in the backyard but when Briar changed that. Dean would do anything for his family no matter the cost. Example: Selling his soul for Sam.

“Sh.” Dean spoke kissing the crown of her hair he savoured having his child safe in his arms, “I’ll help you to the bathroom to get cleaned up. We’ll heat some soup and toast.”

On autopilot, Dean helped Briar down the hall to the bathroom where she would freshen up and later burn the unsalvageable clothing. As Dean returned to Sam’s side, Castiel came with a sombre expression and an explanation.

“Dean. Sam.” Cas greeted them, flicking his blue gaze between the two brothers. The faint sound of the shower only picked up by the trained heightened sense of hearing from years of watching over their backs.

“Cas what the hell happened?” Dean demanded, “Why the hell is my little girl bruised and coated in blood?”

END FILMING SCENE

“Cut!” Robert called out to the large room with a big smile on his face, “I’ll watch it back. See if we need more takes.”

Jared and Jensen wiped the tears that fell from their cheeks just thinking on how wrought that scene felt. As fathers seeing a young adult in such a state severely agonized them. The duo jogged to see your back against the cold wall—a pinched expression marring your young face.

“How are you feeling after that?” Jensen asked, coming closer to squeeze your shoulders unfazed by the sticky fake blood. It was already all over his clothes from hugging you in character.

“You shouldn’t be allowed to have sharp objects.” You spoke glancing down at your knee that had been punctured by the knife. The dark jeans soaked in stage blood now concealed the real blood.

“Jensen, did you really stab another person.” Jared deadpanned his best friend referencing back a few years. Jared shoved one hand through his hair, receiving a nasty glare from the hairstylist on call.

The glare on Jensen’s face blistered the taller actor, “I didn’t stab you. You walked into the knife.”

The two bickered as they guided you back to the main stage where Robert had reached a final verdict. He had watched the replay twice along with his crew finding the raw emotion to be perfect. The little detail the three had added was well played. Dean unexpectedly consoling his daughter in tears; no threats to kill or push her to tell him what happened. The first time Briar referring to Dean as her father. Lastly, Sam’s unsure actions in consoling a young girl sucked into life like he was in his youth.

“We got a one-take winner!” Robert called out sending the entire crowd into loud applause and cheers. Jared taking most of your weight as you hobbled to the costume trailer.

The lovely costume designers helped remove the sticky shirt, jewellery and the red converse that had once been white. Only the jeans remained on your body to not mess with the wound. As much as you’d love to shower the blood off, it was near impossible, moving your knee stung and it was best to avoid aggravating it.

“Someone needs to ban Jensen from knives. Just wait till his wife finds out about this, she adores Y/N.” Martha chuckled from her sketches she designed on her breaks for a future in fashion design. Often in your free time, you would be her guinea pig with her designs using refurbished material.

Normally the banter would continue but not when your leg was bleeding, and Jared was taking you to the ER. To make time faster, Jared had scooped you into his arms to the black car their driver waited in.

“Towels are in place. Sorry, you got hurt, Kid.” Clif spoke, opening the door to the backseat where Jensen sat patiently. Unlike usual, he had seated himself in the front so you could stretch in the back.

A weak chuckle met air in the packed car from the blood loss that wasn’t overly bad but enough that Jared took the towel. His pressure on the wound caused a yelp that had Jensen flinching in guilt.

“The knife must have been sharp to cut a mouse in half,” Clif muttered turning towards the hospital close to set. Coincidently the drive took you passed the set your boyfriend currently filmed at.

“Might as well call me butter.” You retorted wincing at the throbbing pain, “You aren’t allowed any more sharp objects, Mr. Ackles.”

“Danneel already threatened to hide all the knives in the house.” The on-screen father laughed as the tension decreased in the small car. Despite the dizziness, it didn’t hide the guilt in Jensen’s green eyes.

Time flew by as you found yourself in a bed for observation and pictures for the knee. It came as a shock when the doctor requested one blood transfusion for the blood loss. The hope of being in and out had evaporated like water beads on a blistering summer day.

Julie and the Phantoms Set

Charlie adored his life as an actor where he was free to visit places, he might not have had the opportunity to do. He made friends with everyone he spoke to and even met the love of his life as an actor as well.

That being said today had been the longest one with a full schedule and barely time for lunch or snacks. Even a nap was unachievable, and he desperately wanted one for being awake for hours by now.

“Charlie! Did you know you’ve got missed calls?” Jeremy inquired, staring at the phone that went black once more. Charlie’s eyebrows came together at the mention. His family had the rough outline of times he would be unavailable to talk.

Stepping back from the craft table’s supper options, he lifted the phone from the table, bringing it to life. His lock screen showing multiple missed calls and voicemails from you, his family and two unknown numbers.

His jaw dropped further when Meghan called for the first time out of the group, “Megs?”

“Finally! Where have you been?” Meghan demanded pacing in the studio she had been using when she got the call. The pretty and successful young woman had gotten terrified at learning about Y/N.

“Filming? It’s the longest day of filming the show. It’s on the family schedule.” Charlie spoke, settling into one of the empty tables. His eyes watching the people entering and exiting the tent set up for food.

“Jesus. Mom called me when you didn’t pick up. Y/N’s in the hospital.” Meghan revealed sending the Canadian actor into a stiff posture. His hazel eyes blow wide and panic flooding his entire system.

“What?!” Charlie didn’t mean to shout nor turn paler than a piece of white paper, but it happened. The volume contracting looks from everyone in the vicinity. Owen even dropped the donut back in the box by the volume.

“She got stabbed with a knife. I sent the address earlier, and I haven’t gotten a lot of info.” Meghan told her older brother, “I know she’s getting a blood transfusion, but nothing else was released.”

Charlie couldn’t tell you what happened between Meghan telling him and reaching the hospital frantically. Nor could he figure out how Owen was in the back of the Uber with him guiding him through exercises; all thanks to Owen’s therapist for his anxiety.

His sneakers squeaked on the polished white floor in his mission to the receptionist transferring information from a chart to digital. Charlie’s painting brought him attention from the kind nurse acknowledging his presence.

“Just let me finish this one sentence.” The nurse hummed saving the information before turning their full attention to the frazzled male, “How can I help you?”

“What room is Y/N Y/L/N in? She was stabbed and needed a transfusion.” Charlie demanded deflating as Owen placed a hand on his shoulder. The Canadian’s eyes bright with panic and a deep fear

The nurse’s eyes softened, “I can’t give out information on patients unless your immediate family members.”

“I’m here-“

“Husband! He’s her husband, they eloped so she hasn’t changed her last name or updated her information.” Owen blurted out, rubbing the pad of his index finger on the black jeans he had worn for his role. The two hadn’t even bothered changing into their street clothing.

The nurse nodded their head-turning back to the computer to enter the name for the patient for the information. It took seconds before the nurse wrote on the miscellaneous sticky note of the ward and room number.

“My name is Riley. If you need any help, you can come back here, and I’ll do my best to give you answers.” Nurse Riley informed the duo with a kind smile nodding in the direction of your hospital room.

Owen’s long legs ate up the distance Charlie made in his sprint to the stairwell, “Shouldn’t we take the elevator?”

“My girlfriend is in a hospital bed. I can’t wait for an elevator.” Charlie rebuked the suggestion on the second flight. Owen’s sigh was the last sound made as the duo slammed into the door to the floor level.

Charlie and Owen appeared in the doorway of your hospital room panting from the exertion meeting the gaze of two actors. Charlie’s heart stuttered at the sight of the high volume of blood in your clothing and your hair.

The sharp gasp brought your attention to the shaking Canadian actor solely focused on scanning for wounds. His eyes barely staying on the two adult males you had been starring with for a few years. Schedule conflicts often led to no introduction to each other’s co-stars.

“What the hell?” Charlie choked stumbling to the chair beside your hospital bed next to the pole holding a blood bag, “Did you get mugged? Are you okay?”

“Char, take a breath, man.” Owen’s blue eyes shadowed with the worry as Charlie’s breathing shuddered. Owen could barely look at you covered in blood.

“Whoa! Charlie. I’m fine. This is stage blood. We had an intense scene, and there was a minor accident.” Your voice soothed the man gently taking Charlie’s hand to comfort him, “I lost a bit of blood. The doctor decided to give me a blood transfusion to bring my levels back up a bit before stitching it up.”

“How do you get stabbed accidently?” Owen questioned glancing at the two men standing silently in the corner. Due to contracts on the Supernatural set details of scenes and storylines was off-limits.

“Well, during filming, I took a knife from her, and she walked into the blade?” Jensen trailed off, shoving his elbow into Jared’s side at the scoff. It happened every time it was brought up.

“I-“Charlie blinked, shaking his head as he took a deep sigh in pushing that to the back burner to focus solely on you. His hand rubbed his face while he settled on squeezing your one hand in both of his.

The touch of your skin grounding him back to earth with the shattering visions of walking into the world without you. It would be both ways, the second his calloused warm skin brushed your hands; it was like the pain faded. Only a sense of content settled in your weary bones.

“Okay Miss Y/L/N.” Dr. Clancy walked into the room only halting to grab a pair of medical gloves, “I see your entourage grew. I’m Doctor Jim Clancy, and you must be Miss Y/L/N’s husband.”

Three pairs of eyes widened at the doctor’s words aimed towards the brunette actor turning a blushing mess. The words mouthed by Charlie to go with it gave barely any insight, but you did it. The moment you had a free minute with Charlie, you would interrogate him in the new title you had.

“Yeah, my husband.” You spoke flicking an expression to Jensen and Jared that caught on from the years together. They had taken you under their wing on your first day on set, and then you became family with their immediate family.

“I can confirm that my initial observation is that the wound doesn’t have anything that shouldn’t be in there. We stopped the bleeding, the x-ray came clean, we’ll set you up with IV fluid, and tetanus shot to be safe.”

“Nurse Gellar here will cut the rest of the jeans off, get you in a gown for a few hours of observation. Just a precaution for blood transfusions. We’ll have some scrubs you can wear when you can leave.” Dr. Clancy motioned to the tall redhead with a quiet demeanour.

Charlie’s lips lingered on your temple at the fear that flared in your expressive eyes, he would give anything to take your place. He softly sang your couple song as a whimper fell from your lips as the jean tugged the dried blood from the wound. The painful pressure felt as you guessed it had started to bleed again, the feel of liquid rolling down your skin, confirming it.

“I’ll sing anything.” Charlie whispered going through his mental catalogue of songs on your shared playlist, “Oh!”

I’m booking myself a one-way flight

I gotta see the color in your eyes

And telling myself I’m gonna be alright

Without you baby is a waste of time

The tears falling no longer came from the pain but the sheer amount of love you had for the man there. Eyes glittering with pure adoration as his voice came off absolutely heart-melting. So, lost in each other neither of you noticed Owen had been filming from the moment Charlie had said ‘oh’.

Yeah, our first date, girl, the seasons changed

It got washed away in a summer rain

You can’t undo a fall like this

’Cause love don’t know what distance is

Yeah, I know it’s crazy

Charlie’s hand slowly slid up your arms to cup your tear-streaked tacky cheeks in his warm grip. The hospital faded as it became just you and Charlie. Completely oblivious at the audience in the room.

“He loves her,” Jensen whispered to Jared out of the camera frame that the blonde-haired kid’s phone. It was such a pure moment it felt disrespectful to see this exchange but also honoured to see it firsthand.

“I’ve only seen the look in your eyes for Danneel,” Jared replied, cupping his hands over his face listening to the near inaudible wet chuckle you gave.

“As I have between you and Gen. They have the real kind of love.”

But I don’t want “good”, and I don’t want “good enough.”

I want “can’t sleep, can’t breathe without your love”

Front porch and one more kiss, it doesn’t make sense to anybody else

“Charlie.” You sobbed at the best part of your life serenading you in such a romantic moment at the odd setting—his hazel gaze greener in what would come to be a very dear memory to reminisce about.

The calloused thumb caressing your cheek wiping a teardrop away he continued to see as the doctor finished suturing the wound.

Nothing mattered other than the couple currently in a bubble.

Who cares if you’re all I think about,

I’ve searched the world and I know now,

It ain’t right if you ain’t lost your mind.

Yeah, I don’t want easy, I want crazy

Are you with me baby? Let’s be crazy

Charlie’s voice faded with the rest of the song bringing you back to reality with the nurse cleaning up around the wound. That’s how the rest of the day went on waiting for the blood transfusion and IV fluids to finish. You stuffed the tetanus shot while Charlie sang between different genres.

“Thank you.” You softly spoke with Charlie being the only one left in the room with you.

Owen had headed back to their set to finish a scene while giving the updates on you while Jared and Jensen grabbed food. J2 had been very clear they would get Martha to grab some clothing for when they came back. Jensen was determined to deliver you to your home as the first action to make it up to you.

“For what?” Charlie questioned as your index and thumb picked at the cuticles of the opposite hand. Your eyes were hidden from your boyfriend’s gaze.

“For dropping everything to be here.” The words were quiet in the room only filled with breathing and the heart machine you had to be hooked up to.

“My girl-“

“Don’t you mean wife?” You teased brushing a lock of his hair from his forehead taking in the man you had the honor of loving. Of waking up next to in the apartment, you’d been renting ever since you landed the role on Supernatural; overtime Charlie’s things had just accumulated there.

“It was the only way they’d let me in.” Charlie spoke sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, “It’s a little early to call you, but I’m excited to make you my last girlfriend and then my only wife.”

The chuckle fell from your lips, “So, you want to marry me?”

“In front of all our family and friends. Tucked away from the media to celebrate the love we have for each other.” Charlie spoke, “There’s no one else I’d like by my side for the rest of my life.”

A new flood of tears welled at the sincerity in his voice and the warmth laden in his eyes of kaleidoscope colours. Sometimes, depending on his emotion or his clothing, his eyes would be greener, or when he was happy, they had a blue tinge in the green in sadness or your favourite; brown with the swirls of green.

“How did I get so lucky to have the absolute honour to fall in love with you?” Your words created a swell of emotion in the Canadian’s heart.

“The same way whatever deities there are took pity on a boy from Dieppe by bringing him an angel.” Charlie words preceded the kiss on your lips with a grin as you chased his lips after. With one last peck, he leaned back with a fond expression.

“Seriously how do you get stabbed accidently?” Charlie chortled with that gorgeous smile lighting up the room more than the white lights.

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#charlie gillespie imagines #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie x reader #luke patterson imagines #jatp fanfic #charlie gillespie #caitsy and ash productions

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guiltgoreglory · 3 years

Text

Heat Waves (Chapter 1: A Warm Welcome)

(Very) Brief Summary: Reader is a government contractor joining the team in Benghazi. (Eventual Tanto x Reader) (2,684 words)

Chapter 2

Foreword: In this series, the reader will be loosely based off of Nikita from the TV show Nikita (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nikita_(TV_series)). The reader has an extensive background in black-ops and is currently an independent contractor working with the department of defense in coordination with the executive branch. If you have any questions about the character, feel free to reach out to me and I can clarify. The story will generally follow the plot of the movie with the exception of a few scenes. Lastly, the POV will shift throughout the story, a change in POV will be signaled by a line.

Author’s Note: Hey guys! I have a full plot already set up but it has been a long time since I’ve written a fic. I’m so sorry if the writing is kinda shitty but I really wanted to get it down in writing. I hope you like it!

You closed your eyes and rested your head against the headrest, trying to find an ounce of comfort in the cramped seat. The dull hum of the plane was cut through by various murmurs amongst the travelers. After a minute or two, you deemed the effort fruitless, letting out a frustrated sigh. Instead, you opened your eyes and looked out the window, watching as the monotonous view trailed by. For the next several weeks, maybe even months, you’d once again become acclimated to discomfort. This shitty seat is probably as good as it gets, you thought. The department will likely have you shacked up in some storage closet on a grimy 20-year-old cot. You have had worse and at least you’d be occupied.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Silva shift. You turned, watching him from a row back, across the aisle. He grimaced as he took off his wedding ring, putting it into a small metal container. He didn’t appear to notice your gaze as you turned your attention back to the window, the heat already radiating in. You felt sorry for him. Leaving people behind is never easy, especially kids. Luckily, you didn’t have that problem.

As the plane began its descent you skimmed the team comp in your head. You’d been thoroughly briefed on the contractors, on top of all the research you had done on your own. You were joining alongside Jack Silva. A family man in real estate. Pushed to fly back overseas for the money to support his family. From all that you had seen, he’s a good guy. He seemed to be good company. It’ll be nice to not be the only strange face, you thought.

You readied yourself. Benghazi is far worse than most believed. Ever since the department even suggested you might be helpful here, you’d been keeping track of the chaos. It was only a matter of time before it erupted into a full-blown civil war.

As the landing zone came into view you checked your hijab, making sure not a hair was out of place. You wore a casual white button-down shirt with a gray tank top underneath. You unfolded the sleeves, covering as much of your skin as possible. Given the heat, you’d love to run out in something a little more breathable, but the beige cargo pants would have to do. Next, you checked your “cello” case that sat in the seat next to you. Moving the strap towards you for a quick and effortless disembark. Being you had its perks, one of which was bringing some of your own firepower.

You cracked your neck as a familiar ding came over the com.

“Welcome to Benghazi.”

The two men settled into the car, watching over all the civilians walking past. Rone leaned forward, pulling a handgun out of the back of his pants. “It’s loaded.” Jack accepted the gun readily, cocking it within his lap.

“How’s the team here?”

“Good. Three ex-marines, one ex-army ranger. It’ll be nice to have some more team guys around.”

Jack briefly glanced back at Rone. “Guys?”

“Yeah. We’re waiting on one more before we head out.”

“You work with him before?”

“Nope. Defense department assigned her.”

Jack furrowed his brow slightly, pursing his lips in surprise. “Alrighty then, what’s she look like?” Jack looked more intently for another westerner standing out like a sore thumb.

“No idea. I’ve been told that she will find us.”

“Oh how ominous.” A smile tugged at the corner of his lip.

Rone hummed in agreement as he eyed the rearview mirror. Out of the crowd, a body began to beeline towards the car. “Think that’s her.”

Jack nonchalantly stretched, turning towards the back of the car to catch a look.

You approached the dust-covered truck, already craving shade from the burning sun. Your sunglasses did little to protect your eyes from the glare off of the ground. As you got closer, you could see Tyrone eying you from the side mirrors. You adjusted the straps of both your cello case and your duffel, making sure not to make any sudden movements. You made your way to the driver’s side door, turning to face him. “You Tyrone?” you asked, knowing full well it was.

“Yes, Ma’am. And you are?”

“Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. Hop in.”

You nodded, moving back towards the rear of the car. Swinging the back door open, you threw your stuff onto the ground next to the seat. Leaving just enough room for you to climb in. As you sat down, you angled yourself towards Jack so that you could have a proper introduction. He noticed your movement, turning back to face you. He reached out his hand for a handshake.

“Jack Silva”

You took his hand. “Y/N.”

He settled back into his seat as Rone started the car. “Just Y/N?”

“Just Y/N.” You affirmed.

As Rone made his way through the city they began to catch up, making friendly jabs at each other. You yanked your duffel towards you, rummaging through the various clothes. You could feel Jack’s eyes peeking at you ever so often through the mirror, making sure you weren’t doing anything unsavory. Trust is earned. Finally, you found your shoulder holster. You unbuttoned your shirt, throwing it on the seat beside you. You put on the holster, adjusting the straps as needed so that it sat comfortably. After you were satisfied you again began to look through your luggage, pulling out two black pistols. You loaded a magazine into both of the guns. The sound quickly drew the attention of both men as the conversation briefly paused before they returned to their conversation. You paid them no mind, knowing that any response would probably make them more antsy. You then cocked them before placing them within your holster. Grabbing your shirt, you put it back on, leaving it unbuttoned. It was opaque enough to conceal your firearms as long as no one looked too close.

“So, Y/N,” Rone directing the conversation towards you, “The Defense Department didn’t tell me much about you. What branch you from?”

You turned from watching out the side of the car. “Covert operations.”

That definitely piqued his interest. Jack let Rone do the questioning, but it was clear he was just as curious as him.

“Alright. SEAL Team?”

“Uh, no. It’s a little more complicated.”

“Oh I get it, you’re on some James Bond shit huh.” He chuckled to himself as you smiled and rolled your eyes.

“Pretty much.”

Rone left the questioning there, knowing he’d probably not get much more of an answer, at least not until you’d come to know him a bit better. The two of them shared a look before the car came to a sudden stop.

“Shit. No, no, no, no, no this isn’t good.” Rone’s body tensed as he assessed the situation.

Civilians began to run around the car, whimpering in fear. You straightened up, readying for a shit show. You positioned yourself in the middle of the back, between the two men so you could see as much as possible through the windshield.

“Fuck.” Rone’s discomfort quickly seeped through his cool resolve. “Who the fuck are these guys?”

“What do we got?” Jack stayed still, his eyes scanning over the various armed men.

“Brigade we coordinate with, February Seventeenth Martyrs. This ain’t them.” He looked back past you and he switched into reverse. Moving back a few feet, the path was blocked and the car jolted forward. “Shit we’re boxed in.”

You settled on your knees, carefully unclipping the straps keeping your guns in place, just in case. Both men leaned out of the window. Jack looking up towards the man on the balcony readied to run.

“We bailing?” He asked, voice calm and collected.

Rone, giving no response, pulled out his radio. “Base this is Rone. Come in, over.”

“This is Base, go Rone.”

“I’m in a Jam off Fifth Ring Road. I’m lookin’ at about 8 armed tangos here.”

“Copy that, sit tight.”

“Sit tight, that’s great advice.” Everyone in the car became increasingly more agitated as the armed militia made its way in your direction.

You took a deep breath. “If we’re bailing we gotta do it now.” You glanced at your bags. You could leave the duffel. There wasn’t anything particularly important in there. The case on the other hand couldn’t be lost to a rampant terrorist cell, if you did, the government would be up your ass about it for at least another 10 years. You fidgeted slightly, knowing that the opportunity to flee was about to pass.

Jack clenched his jaw. “They got a KPV.”

Fuck this is bad.

“Base we ain’t got all day.”

“Hey, Rone. They’re trying to get Feb 17 to back you up, but we’re coming.”

Deeming that transmission utterly useless, Rone whipped out his cell. “Oz I’m in a jam of Fifth Ring.”

“Ty.” Jack interjected as the men became uncomfortably close.

“Rone, 17 Feb QRF is being alerted.”

“Fuck that, the only Quick Reaction force I want is my guys.” Without an immediate response, Rone continued on. “Send them. I want my guys.” He said more adamantly.

“Negative, Rone. Just hang in there.”

“Maybe I’m not making myself clear. I’m looking at multiple radical insurgents with AKs and a 50-cal technical set to blow my rover all the way back to Zimbabwe. Over.”

You watched as a man dressed in a disheveled suit made his way around the vehicles and debris. He’s the big guy.

“It’s not my call, brother.”

Goddamnit. Looks like we’re either talking our way through this, or we go out quick. The thought gave you the slightest bit of comfort.

Rone looked towards Jack frustrated. You could sense he felt an inch of guilt for getting his friend stuck in this hellhole.

“Here we go.” Jack said nonchalantly as he could given the circumstances.

You crossed your arms, giving yourself easy access to your handguns without looking too conspicuous. A man stood at the front of the rover, yelling something you couldn’t understand. He pointed his AK right at you, maybe it wasn’t on purpose but you couldn’t help but mentally scoff. Well, that’s not very nice.

“Welcome to Benghazi.”

The man in front banged on the hood as the leader moved towards the driver’s side window. Jack raised his hands up innocently as Rone smiled at the man.

“Salaam.” Rone raised his badge up to the man in the suit as he gazed at him incredulously. “Libyan visa. Official. Libyan government.” The leader looked him up and down.

The guy with the AK was now in Jack’s face. His gaze shifted forward, doing his best to remain calm despite the barrel of a gun being inches from his forehead.

“Friendly? Hm? Friendly?” Rone again gestured with his badge.

Rone whatever game you’re playing it better fucking work because last time I checked a friend of Al-Qaeda is no friend of ours. You did your best to blend into the back of the car, feigning as the harmless woman.

“Pull over for inspection.” The leader said sternly.

Rone shook his head. “No.”

“Pull over for inspection!” He was now angry, his voice shaking with every word.

Alright, this is how it’s gonna go. You crept your hands slightly closer to your guns.

Rone’s voice remained steady. “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t do that.”

The man at Jack’s door yelled once more. Banging his palm against the dirty surface. Then the slightest movement came from Jack.

It’s showtime. You thought. You gripped your pistols and whipped them forward, pointing them as the secondary soldier positioned at the front of the rover. Jack and Rone acted similarly with Jack’s gun pointed across at the leader, and Rone’s gun pointed at the soldier beside the door. The soldier at the front adjusted his AK, pointing it more fervently towards the car.

“Look up.” Rone pointed towards the sky with his empty hand, never moving his gaze from the leader’s eyes. “Go ahead, look up.” Some of the aggression left the leader as he looked towards the sky, confused. “You see the drone?” The man looked back down. “No? That’s okay. The drone sees you.”

Nice play, Rone. You thought to yourself. A couple of Americans? No problem. We don’t pose that much of a threat. But good ol’ American air support? Now that carries a little weight.

“Sees your face. We know who you are.”

Jack, facing the soldier at his door, swallows hard. Keeping with Rone’s power play, he maintains eye contact.

“If anything happens to us, your home, your family, boom, gone. Give us the order to let us go.”

Jack, looking past the AK in his face, doesn’t flinch as the soldier gestures with his gun.

“I want the car!”

Within a brief moment, Jack and Rone switched their aim, with Jack now pointing his handgun at the soldier and Rone at the leader. You flinched ever so slightly at the movement, but you remained steady, watching for any worrisome movement amongst the militia. Adrenaline pumped through your veins as you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. You ignored the harsh metal of the rover digging into your knees. This was your guys’ only shot to make it out of this cramped alley. They had to think your little caravan of three had the power of the entire U.S. military revolving overhead when in reality, you were just three Americans with a couple of guns in the middle of fuckin nowhere.

“No, I’m not gonna do that.” Jack shakes his head, leaning forward towards the man. The energy around the car was beginning to shift. Despite the KPV having enough firepower to destroy your car, and about 5 cars behind you, you three possessed the upper hand. They recoiled at the barrel of your guns, not the other way around.

The leader’s eyes began to soften, his harsh exterior falling at the thought of losing everything. For a moment, you actually pitied him. “I earn the right to decide the future of my country.” You understood the sentiment behind his words. Once again the U.S. had shoved itself into the center of a country, with no right to do so. But you, and the men sat beside you, just wanted to keep others safe. You had no agenda.

“You’re talking to the wrong guy. How willing are you to die for your country? I’m ready to go right here, right now.” Easy, Tyrone. Don’t push it too far.

The leader’s frown deepened as he considered the weight of Rone’s words. He slowly backed away from the car. “Leave here. While you still can.”

You stopped yourself from relaxing your figure even though it felt like the weight of the world had just been lifted off your shoulders. Rone leaned back into his seat, beginning to maneuver the car between the debris. Jack slowly lowered his pistol to the door as the car inched forward. You followed suit and lowered your guns into your lap. You could hear the leader yelling to his men, and their posture relaxed enough to show they weren’t an immediate threat. Air filled your lungs for the first time in what felt like 5 minutes, before you looked behind through the dusty back window, making sure the leader was true to his word and you weren’t about to get shot in the back. You settled back onto your seat, leaning back against the warm metal. You debated holstering your weapons but decided it was best to have them at the ready until you were within the walls of the base.

“We got air support?” Jack’s voice was calm but demanding. You knew the answer to his question but left Rone to give him the bad news. Rone didn’t take his eyes off of the road as he did his best to make it back to base in one piece.

“We don’t have any fucking support.”

#Tanto x Reader #Tanto/Reader #Tanto x Y/N #13 Hours #Pablo Schreiber #Tanto #Kris Paronto #Kris Paronto x Reader #Kris Paronto/Reader

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hatterstan-shameblog · 3 years

Note

Here is the first one

Second :D

And last..he's looking at you 👀💦

ALRIGHT you know WHAT—

There’s…a lot going on here. So much so, that I have decided to create

CONTEXT

for these three images that is

COMPLETELY FAKE

because I think it’ll be a fun writing exercise. kind of a cringe move on my part, but consider: i have fun making up ridiculous lies about characters who don’t exist in real life.

(which is how I’m treating these, by the way. yes, they are pictures of kaneko nobuaki, but for my purposes, they are NOT actually him. they are distinct fictional characters who are not real.)

so if you’re feeling adventurous skip below the cut and watch me break it down:

Image 1: Accidental “Date” Makes Cousin’s Wedding Less Terrible Than Originally Expected

The year is 1999. Your cousin (who you are not particularly close to) is getting married…on a cruise ship. Your mother insists you attend. You insist upon spending 90% of your time sipping margaritas on the deck and flipping through the latest issue of Marie Claire while trying desperately not to think about the fact that you are surrounded by nothing but open ocean.

One of the (very drunk) bridesmaids tries to toss you a beach ball because you have been, and I quote: like, a total bummer this whole time. She misses. It hits the person next to you in the face. Great. Awesome. You think: well now who’s being, like, a total bummer?

Luckily the person who got hit in the face laughs the entire thing off. He says your friends seem…’lively.’ You say that’s pretty rich coming from a guy who looks like a rejected member of ‘The Clash.’ He insists that he left them, not the other way around.

You slip into conversation. You tell him that you’re here for a wedding. He offers his condolences. You accept them. He says he actually likes weddings—something about two people making a life-changing commitment speaks to him on a soul-level. That and the open bar, of course.

You suggest he crash the wedding. He says he’s not sure if he can make it—there’s a shuffleboard tournament that evening that he would just hate to miss, plus the latest issue of Soap Opera Digest is waiting on his bedside table just begging to be opened. You say that’s perfectly understandable, but, if he suddenly finds himself caught up on the latest All My Children gossip, he can meet you back here at four.

Surprise, surprise: he shows up. He’s wearing the same shirt he was before, but buttoned up this time—and with one of the most hideous neckties you’ve ever seen, which he apparently borrowed from the kind old man next door. Instead of complimenting his attire (because it is truly un-compliment-able), you take the opportunity to mention that this is a Titanic-themed wedding. He says that having a Titanic-themed wedding on a cruise ship is “kind of fucked up” and you solemnly agree.

Everyone is very surprised and pleased to see that you’ve brought a date—even the bride, who tells you that you’re “just like Jack and Rose.” You agree, much to her delight…until you say that, if the ship goes down, you also won’t share the door and let him freeze to death in the icy water. He insists he’d be the guy who jumps off the ship and hits his leg on the propellor—that’s his favorite part of the whole movie, and it’d be an honor to re-enact the scene.

The wedding is…a wedding. Vows, toasts, pictures—and you’re sipping champagne through the entire thing. The two of you spend the evening getting completely wasted and telling everyone a different story about just who your ‘mystery date’ is. Highlights include: the captain’s unruly son whose been tasked with following in his father’s sea-faring footsteps; professional cave-diver who discovered a new species of slug and is spending his reward money on a nice vacation; head of marketing who gives all those clever names to the nail polishes at OPI; the guy who folds everyone’s towels into animal shapes.

You end up where you started: on neighboring lounge chairs, with a margarita, and talking to this stranger who has recently crossed into “acquaintance” territory. You chat about how “My Heart Will Go On” is actually a good song, and he promises not to tell anyone that you said that. He also says that this is the best Titanic-themed cruise ship wedding he’s ever been to, and he can’t wait until somebody decides to do Jaws.

Eventually, you both stagger back to your rooms with promises of seeing each other at breakfast. Unfortunately, you have the worst hangover of your life the next morning and even the thought of ‘breakfast’ makes you want to roll over and die, so you don’t manage to stumble out of bed until it’s time to disembark.

You see him at port, and you each offer each other a little wave before going your separate ways. Six weeks later, you get a Polaroid of the two of you together, sitting at the bar and laughing at something that must have been very, very hilarious.

You don’t remember most of what happened that night, but you remember it was not as terrible as it could have been.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Image 2: Extremely Weird Guy On The Street Has You Questioning Your Sanity

It’s 6:00 in the morning—a truly terrible time to be awake, but a necessary evil. Your flight leaves at 10, and since it’s an international thing, you want to make sure you get there in plenty of time to get to your gate (and maybe sample all the fancy perfumes you can’t afford at one of those high-end stores that are always in airports.)

The streets are mostly empty, save for a few random pedestrians and a handful of passed-out salarymen snoozing on the curb. The sky a rainy gray-blue as the sun tries to rise behind the springtime cloud cover—it’s no doubt going to be another dismal day, as is common during this time of year. Hopefully there’s not too much turbulence on your flight…

You stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the little walking man signal to show up on the light across the way. You’re soon joined by another person—a man in a soft-looking jacket who supplies you with a small “good morning” bob of his head. You respond in kind, throwing in a small smile for good measure. It’s nice that he too understands that it’s entirely too early to be having any kind of conversation, even if it is just a simple verbal greeting between strangers on a street corner.

The light changes, and you both begin your trek across the street. Your fellow walker is faster than you—or, more likely, has longer legs and, ergo, a longer stride than your own—and is nearly halfway across by the time you get your wheeled suitcase over the curb. He seems decent enough. You hope he’s going somewhere nice.

It’s then that you make the mistake of looking up. It would have been much better if you had just continued watching the white painted lines on the road and thinking about how it reminds you of piano keys—and how you hated the six months of piano lessons your parents forced you to take in the first grade.

But no. You noticed someone walking towards you, and you just had to look up.

The first thing you notice is a rainbow tie-dye shirt. The second thing you notice is that the rainbow tie-dye shirt is on a very cheerful looking gentleman, who seemed to be bobbing his head in time with a song only he could hear.

The third thing you notice—and this one’s the real kicker—is the large blue-and-green reptile sitting on his shoulder. It’s bulging eyes are hooded in pleasure as it’s red-pink tongue darts out to eat the green something—maybe a grape or a small piece of melon?—from the rainbow tie-dye man’s hand. It is nothing short of a spectacle, honestly, and you feel a piece of your sanity evaporate.

The rainbow tie-dye man continues on, uncaring of your confused stare at his strange pet. You even turn around to make sure that you weren’t somehow hallucinating, and sure enough, there is definitely some kind of creature draped over this stranger’s shoulder. It’s tail even sways in time with the man’s steps, which is both cute and confusing.

Because it would not do to stand in the middle of the street all day, considering the existence of rainbow tie-dye man and his exotic pet, you do the only thing you can do: turn back around and continue on your journey. You need a coffee. Maybe with an extra shot of espresso, after witnessing whatever the hell that was. Something to set you right again.

“Was that…?”

The other man—the soft-coat long-stride one—is speaking low enough as to not draw attention, but loud enough for you to hear as you make your way towards the sidewalk. His expression reads ‘concerned, but trying not to show it’ which you suppose is the polite and mature way of handling the situation.

“…an iguana? Yeah,” you answer him, “I saw it too.”

The man’s brow furrows. His mouth puckers into a small frown as he considers…well, something.

“…Okay, then,” he concludes, shrugging his shoulders, “Hell of a way to start the day.”

“Yeah.”

And you both continue on your way. He turns left at the next intersection, you turn right—but even though your paths may now be different, you will forever share an unbreakable bond over the fantastical sight you’ve witnessed today.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Image 3: Near Death Experience At Open Mic Night

You are not a poet.

Well, not professionally, anyways. You’ve been known to dabble in the written word, often scribbling little snippets of rhyme in a notebook over your lunch break or tapping a verse or two into the notes app on your phone. It a kind of outlet, you suppose—a way to keep the creative energy that bubbles inside of you from boiling over.

It’s also worth mentioning that you are not a confident public speaker. Not since that unfortunate incident in the third grade where you forgot the single line you had in the school play and ran off stage, tears streaming down your face and—actually, no, you’re not going to think about that right now. Or ever again, hopefully.

So when your (tipsy) coworkers decide that it’s a good idea to push you onto the stage at the local dive bar’s open mic night—while shouting at you to “read the one about the night-blooming jasmine”—you freeze up. There are at least seven strangers staring at you, expectation rising with every passing second of your inaction. It’s nerve-wracking in the way that the third-grade incident was not, and you gulp against the nervousness that rises in your throat.

Shaking hands scroll frantically through your phone, looking for the requested poem—and after a few agonizing moments, you manage to find it. Your voice cracks rather embarrassingly as you begin to read, trying your damndest to get the words out right so you can slink back to the bar and drown the rest of the night in Chardonnay.

Everything is going well—or, at least, as well as can be expected—until you notice that the room is suddenly feeling very hot. That’s the last coherent thought you have before the room goes dark and everything falls silent.

Next thing you know, you’re staring at the ceiling. A man who you do not know is leaning over you, and his mouth is moving—oh, he’s probably trying to say something to you, but it’s very difficult to tell what he’s saying over the throbbing pain in the back of your head.

You ask him if you’re dead. It’s a possibility after all, that you’ve somehow died and landed yourself in some kind of special public-speaking hell. That’s what this feels like, anyways.

The man says no, you are not dead. You say ‘dammit’ in response. He tries to hold back laughter, offering to help you up by extending his hand. You take it and—ouch, ugh, ew, going from laying to standing is not a fun experience.

You thank him (albeit awkwardly) for helping you up, and he insists that ‘it’s cool.’ Passing out in front of an audience is not even remotely cool, but you nod and thank him again, anyways.

Before you’re able to converse with the helpful stranger any further, your coworkers have come to collect you. You are whisked away by someone from accounting, who offers to escort you home—an offer you gladly accept, very excited to leave the site of your failure behind you.

Safe to say, you never go back to that particular bar again.

#writings and such #thought you’d get me with a thirst post WELL I JUST THREW DOWN AN UNO REVERSE CARD BAYBEEEEE #‘he’s looking at you’ YOU TRYNA MAKE ME BLUSH CUZ ITS WORKIN OKAY???#fun fact: the second one was inspired by MULTIPLE real-life events #can’t wait to wake up tomorrow morning and regret this <3

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darling-i-read-it · 4 years

Text

Naka-Choko

2x10

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, dead bodies, smut pretty much i go there a bit btu it’s not super graphic, threesomes, will being hot as fuck

Author’s Note: I spent like this whole season being like ‘do i make the reader sleep with hannibal while will sleeps with margot’ ‘does will not sleep with margot?’ ‘does margot sleep with hannibal?’ and this is the product. I’m not quite sure about it but enough of you were wishing for a little more on Will’s reunion so I did it, I hope you guys enjoy! Ps: I love the sexuality of the reader kinda open, if she engages and such so you can imagine whatever you please!

I used some direct quotes from the script so some things may seem familiar

Official Episode Summary :Will's readiness to go to dark places strengthens his bond with Hannibal -- and garners Jack's attention; Hannibal gives Margot advice about her brother's violent nature.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director

Tag List (is always open!) : @llperfectsymmetryll @ericacactus @vlightning95

(not my gif) (last three gifs are from @/rocktheholygrail)

` The house was still as Will backed up. He held his gun in his hand and you were on the ground beside him. You saw clearly as the window was breaking, shattered all over the ground as the suspect of the last crime scene you had been to in his robotic animal suit.

He attacked Will and you stood up quickly but Will had tossed the gun. You grabbed it off the ground, the dogs behind you growling and barking. Will started to beat the guy to a bloody pulp and you realized suddenly, in the rush of adrenaline why he had tossed the gun. He felt like this needed to be personal.

Will continued to beat him and you grabbed Will from behind. He glanced at you but only for a second as you leaned down, holding the man's hands down as Will stood up a bit before grabbing his neck again and snapping it.

Both you and Will had blood all over you. It had sprayed all over your faces and clothes as you leaned over the dead body. You grabbed Will’s arm and he looked over at you, surprised for a moment that you also had blood on you.

Not a murderer but a murder accomplince. Same difference

You just stared at each other for a moment and you let out a small sigh. You looked down at the lifeless body underneath your boyfriend.

“Did that feel good?” you whispered. Will whipped some blood off your face with his hand which forced you to look back at him. The blood only smudged. He leaned forward and kissed you.

Hannibal’s.

You sat at his dinner table, Will stood at the head, Hannibal at the other head. The body in the middle.

“Consider it an act of reciprocity. One positive action begets another,” Hannibal said simply.

“Polite society normally puts such taboos on taking a life,” Will said cheekily.

“Without death, we’d be at a loss. It’s the prospect of death that drives us to greatness,” Hannibal said. He looked over at you and then back at Will. He smiled a bit, almost proud to see the two of you in front of him. “Did you kill him together? With your hands?”

Will held up his hands, bruised and bloodied. You would have washed them for him if you hadn’t gotten so busy.

“It was very intimate,” he muttered and Hannibal wasn’t sure if he was referring to you and Will or the two of you and Randall Tier.

Will’s hands submerged under warm water. You sat on the counter beside where the boys stood, Hannibal washing over Will’s hands with some epsom salts. The water tinged pink. Will was staring absently as Hannibal treated his wounds.

“Don't go inside, Will. You’ll want to retreat, you’ll want it as we want to jump from balconies, as the glint of the rails tempts us when we hear the approaching train,” Hannibal muttered. He applied a salve to the cuts and bruises. “Stay with us.”

Will looked up at the both of you.

“Where else am I going to go?” Will whispered.

“You can go anywhere,” you whispered. Will and Hannibal looked at you. Hannibal was more surprised than Will at how you were handling this. When you killed the judge you were a shock filled crying mess. You were a hollow shell of the person he knew for a few days. This was so different from how you were then.

Perhaps it was because you were with Will, your person. Perhaps you had just embraced yourself now. Either way, he liked it.

“You should be quite pleased. I am,” Hannibal said.

“Of course you are,” Will muttered.

The BAU stared at the disembodied body of Randall Tier. You, Hannibal and Will all looked at it simply, hands shoved in pockets. Jack was there as well although he didn’t know quite as much as you three did. To an extent.

“His killer chose not to dispose of his body, but to display it,” Jack inquired.

“A jarring reminder of deaths’ informality,” Hannibal muttered, looking it up and down.

“Randall Tier was denied a respectable end that he himself denied others,” Jack stated and he was right, in a sense.

“Dissection is disgrace. This is humiliation, a final indignity,” Hannibal said.

“He isn't mocking him,” you said.

“This isn’t disdain. He’s commemorating him,” Will finished.

“This killer had no fear for the consequences of what he’s done,” Hannibal said, eyeing the two of you.

“No guilt,” Will whispered and you looked at him. He was right.

You and Will walked into the room where Freddie Lounds was residing. She had pinned up pictures on the wall with notebook paper beside them. Pictures of Will she had taken, pictures of you that you didn’t even know she had taken. One when you were at the observatory with Will, one when Will was arrested and you were hugging Hannibal.

“I raised the ante on my publishing deal. There’s been movie interest. Hollywood is a fine place for the obnoxious and wealthy,” she stated.

“You’re not wealthy Freddie,” Will quipped.

“I will be. I’m a pariah among journalists because I took a different faith. But I’m putting that faith in you Will.”

“Let’s talk Chesapeake Ripper. Frederick Chilton. Who knew?” Freddie said as she put the record button on the recorder.

“Who knew,” you muttered.

“No one did. Nobody would. Not even you two and you’re both one for theories. You were both so certain the Chesapeake Ripper was Hannibal Lecter, so much so Will tried to kill him.” Will and you stayed close to each other.

“You neglected to say ‘allegedly’,” Will stated.

“No I didn’t.” She glanced over at you. “Dr. Lecter is your boss and your psychiatrist. What’s up with that?” she inquired.

“I was wrong about him. That’s what’s up with that,” Will said calmly.

“Maybe you were.” Freddie looked at you in the eyes and you wondered what she would say about you in her book about Will. “Maybe you weren’t.”

“Chilton was the Ripper,’ you said simply, despite not believing it. The recording beeped red.

“The Chesapeake Ripper had surgical skills Frederick Chilton did not.”

“They had the same profile,” Will said.

“Except Dr. Chilton was a woeful surgeon. Dangerous, even. I’ve been chatting with his old medical school chums. They say he fled to psychiatry to avoid embarrassment.” Freddie was nothing if not thorough you had to give her that.

“Our story with the Chesapeake Ripper already has an ending Freddie,” you told her.

“Mine doesn’t. Do you really think Dr. Chilton killed Abigail Hobbs? I don’t. Even if I let this story go, i’ll never let that go.”

Will was silent. You were silent.

“Trust me, Freddie,” Will said after a moment. “Neither will we.”

Alana and Hannibal sat on the bed together. Her fingers danced in front of her but she winced at the sounds that she was making. The theremin was unfortunate and nothing she would have tried had she not met Hannibal Lecter when she did.

“Sounds like I’m killing it,” she said laughing a bit. His hand laid on Alana’s arm, attempting to guard her.

“Don’t kill it,” he whispered back at her.

He straddled her. “A theremin is an instrument which can create exquisite music without ever needing to be touched. But it requires a rare gift of perfect pitch to play properly.” He smiled. “Smaller movements. Feel the vibration move through you.”

“Like composing in thin air,” she whispered.

You and Will were at home. You sat in bed together, your head resting on his lower legs as you looked up at him. He was touching your calves with his fingers, causing you to let out small sighs of pleasure. You swirled a half empty bottle of wine. Will took it from your hands and finished it off.

Despite the blanket on top of you the fact that you were naked made Will smile. It made him want to lean forward and run his fingers through your hair. To take you back into his arms despite the fact you had only left them a few minutes before. You were resting now. Who knew a joint murder could bring a couple so close together.

“What do you think Hannibal is doing?” he whispered.

“Best guess?” He nodded. “Sleeping with Alana.” Will let out a chuckle.

“That’s a thing?” You nodded.

“I haven’t told you? Yeah when he couldn’t get me in bed he got her.” He smiled and gripped your arm that was dangling at his side. He played with your fingers.

“I’m proud that you’re not as easy as Alana.”

“Hey, I love Alana. She knows what she wants.” The doorbell rang and you glanced at each other. “Perhaps that’s Hannibal. Maybe he was listening,” you teased. Will rolled his eyes and slipped out of bed. He grabbed his boxers and put them on before grabbing his robe.

You watched him leave the bedroom and then got up, wrapping the sheet around you tightly. Voices floated to your ears from the main rooms.

“What happened to your window?” Margot Verger asked.

“Stag lost in the storm. Came through the window. Got a few scratches getting him out,” Will said.

“I handled most of it,” you teased as you walked into the room. She saw you and raised an eyebrow.

“Have I come at a bad time?” You and Will shared a look and you were just tired and hot enough to shrug.

“No, come on in,” you said with a smile. “Let me grab a robe.” You came back quickly and Marogt put her wine bottle on the counter.

“Are either of you scarred?” she questioned.

“More than I probably know,” Will said. Your breath caught in your throat as you thought about your fingers on those scars, not long before this.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Margot said. You raised an eyebrow and Will looked over at you again.

“I have the wrong parts for your proclivities, Margot,” Will muttered.

“It’s not about proclivities, it’s about trust,” she said.

“It’s good to trust. Better not to,” Will said and his eyes were carefully on the both of you. He was a smart man but he wasn’t sure if he was gauging the situation correctly.

“My optimal level of trust is usually zero. But I trust both of you,” she whispered.

“I don't trust you,” Will said.

“I don’t need either of you to trust me.”

“What do you need then?” you questioned. She walked up to you and started to unbutton her shirt. You raised an eyebrow and your eyes went back to your boyfriend who just laughed a bit, shrugging. You turned to him and he started to take off the top of his robe. You weren’t wearing a bra or anything but you dropped it to your shoulders where you had a few scrapes from over the years.

“Who shot you?” Margot asked Will.

“A friend.”

Margot put her fingers on your shoulder where there was a scrape from when you killed the judge. One of the only fighting back scars you had.

She kissed you. She pulled away and she kissed Will.

A mess of kisses, hands, bodies.

Hannibal kissed Alana and as he lay underneath him he saw you, arching your back and heaving. He kissed her but her hair was not hers it was yours.

Will kissed you as he leaned into Margot. Your fingers touched hers, his hands cupping your face, inside her. Bodies. Breathing. Whispers, finishing.

Hannibal's eyes flashing to yours from miles away. Will’s fingers on your back but arching against Margots.

Finally you lay on your bed again, happily catching your breath. Will laid down beside you and Margot laid beside you.

Hannibal moved to his side in his own bed and instead of Alana he saw you and beside you, Will.

The three of you fell asleep peacefully, Margot and Alana leaving early in the morning.

You opened your eyes and met Will’s already open. You rubbed your vision to be clearer and gave him a droopy, slightly hungover smile. Then you turned to a curious look of confusion.

“Did we have sex with Margot Verger?” you questioned. Will laughed and nodded.

“I believe we did.” You looked up at the ceiling and then back at him.

“Who are we?” you asked, chuckling heartily. He shrugged and draped an arm around you before burying his face in your neck.

“I think the drinks may have helped a bit.”

“Also, how did she find out where we live?”

“She said she looked in Hannibal's things,” he said. You prused your lips.

“The ones I’m supposed to be watching?”

“Those are the ones.”

You paused and then both of you laughed, holding each other for a moment more before you had to get up for the day.

You were walking beside Freddie Lounds. She had called you to chat one on one unfortunately.

“I’ve always admired teachers. Mouling impressionable young minds. But you can only learn so much and live,” she said. You let out an annoyed sigh.

“What do you want Freddie? Your book is about Will, not me.”

“You’re the tag team, you can’t expect me not to add you whenever I can. You’re pure gold. Staying with him through the whole thing, it’s very romantic. I mean come on, everyone calls you the Grahams which I’m sure pisses Hannibal off enough” she said simply.

“If you want to hear about romance I suggest talking to Alana Bloom,” you said, eager to get the talk away from you.

“I’ll make note of that,” she said. “But you know right? You believe him?”

“Know what?”

“Will was right about Lecter.” You gave her a smile and pursed your lips.

“I believe my boyfriend,” you said and left it at that.

You sat at dinner with Will, Alana and Hannibal. An interesting mix of people, considering it all.

“Freddie Lounds thinks the three of you are a paradox. She sees something no one else sees,” Alana said. You wondered what Freddie had said to Alana about you. Likely nothing true although she was more observant than you sometimes gave her credit for.

“What’s that?” Will asked.

“That none of you are the killer she’s writing about, but together, you might be.”

“Freddie Lounds must consider you a bland interview subject if she’s already resorted to fiction,” Hannibal said to Will.

“She won’t be fenced in by something as malleable as the truth. Freddie has no boundaries,” you stated simply, taking a bite of the dinner.

“A person with no boundaries is a psychopath. Or a journalist,” Wil countered.

“Freddie isn’t the only one without boundaries. Your relationships doesn’t seem to know many. Patient, therapist, lover, friend, enemy,” Alana said. You suddenly wondered if she felt threatened by you and Will. You liked the idea of it.

“Crossing boundaries is different than violenating them,” Hannibal said.

“Boundaries are always subject to negotiation. It’s just hard to know where you are with one another,” Alana shrugged.

“We know where we are with each other. Shouldn;’t that be enough?” Will said and you smiled wickedly.

Freddie Lounds did not find you or Will in the house which she was hoping to. She needed an interview with both of you. She walked to the back of the house and to the shed back there, where perhaps the two of you ewre.

Freddie walked forward and found very quickly the suit Randall Tier wore to kill people. She pulled out her camera and took a picture. In the shed she looked around wildly.

Freddie looked up and saw that Will was standing there, walking toward her. She pulled out a gun and raised it to him.

“There really is a very good explanation for all of this,” he stated evenly.

“I don’t want to hear it,” she said shakily.

“You’re not the least bit curious?”

“Get away from the door,” she demanded.

“I can’t let you go, Freddie. Not without hearing what I have to say.” Freddie pulled out her phone. “I know you’re scared. Only have to be scared a little bit longer. Give me the gun.” She fired the gun and missed Will. Behind her you jump out, throwing the gun away and holding a hand over the mouth.

“I’ve wanted to do this since we met,” you hissed. She escaped your grasp and started to run out of the door, hitting call to Jack Crawford.

You, Alana, Jack, Will and Hannibal all stood in Jack’s office. He had just shown off the concerning voicemail he had gotten from Freddie Lounds.

“Freddie Lounds left this message for me three hours ago. Her cell signal dead now. Last call was traced to the nearest phone tower. In Wolf Trap, Virginia. We have her on security cameras at a gas station, filling her car. Six miles from your farm,” Jack said to you and Will.

“Freddie was supposed to interview me. She never showed up,” Will stated.

“Why are you granting interviews to Freddie Lounds?” Jack asked.

“I owed her one,” Will explained.

“SurelY Freddie Lounds has more enemies than Will,” Hannibal reasoned.

“Not in Wolf Trap, Virginia.”

“Will and I were busy all afternoon. Together,” you stated simply. “I think I would have noticed if he decided to kidnap Freddie Lounds. Unless you're insinuating both of us are at fault.” Jack gave you a look but you just crossed your arms.

“We live in the middle of nowhere, Jack. If someone wanted to take her, it’d be a good place to do it.”

You sat at dinner with Will and Hannibal. It was a peaceful dinner. It felt right.

“The meat has an interesting flavor,” Hannibal said. “It’s bracing. Notes of citrus.”

“My palate isn’t as refined at yours,” Will stated.

“Apart from humane considerations it’s more flavorful for animals to be stress-free prior to slaughter. This animal tastes frightened,” Hannibal explained.

“What does ‘frightened’ taste like?” Will asked.

“It’s acidic.”

“The meat is bitter about being dead,” you pointed out.

‘This meat isn’t pork,” Hannibal said.

“It’s long pig,” Will retired. You took a bite and so did Will. Hannibal watched, proud. “You can’t reduce me to a set of influences. I’m not the product of anything. I’ve given up good and evil for behaviorism,” Will said.

“Then you can’t say that I’m evil and Y/N is good,” Hannibal said.

“Y/N isn’t good. And you’re destructive. Same thing.” You took another bite with a cheeky smile on your face.

“Evil's just destructive? Storms are evil, if it's that simple. And we have fire, and then there's hail. Underwriters lump it all under "Acts of God."” Hannibal smiled. “Is this meal an act of God, Will?”

2x11

#will graham x reader #will graham imagines #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter imagines #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #will graham x reader x hannibal lecter #hannibal imagines

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therealsaintscully · 3 years

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Mary and butterflies - the inevitability of death, murderous calling cards and collectors

Some ramblings with links to other people’s excellent meta, in which I suggest that butterflies (and/or moths) symbolize Mary as Moriarty’s reincarnation and or calling card, while also hint at her inevitable death.

Disclaimers: credits are below the cut. I’m not an expert in any of these topics. Thank you, @thewatsonbeekeepers for the beta. In this post I’ll be using moths and butterflies interchangeably, apologies to any entomologists.

Mary’s appearance in the show brings with it new imagery we haven’t seen prior to The Empty Hearse - butterflies. Once Mary’s in the picture, there are butterflies in some very strategic locations, all are either visually or subtextually leading to her. The show has done that previous to season 3; Moriarty is connected to some well established symbols like magpies, apples and IOUs.

When I first started reading meta I used to think these themes were a bit of a stretch, but I’ve since accepted that this is a show that puts barely noticeable phoenixes in a restaurant scene that shows us Sherlock rising from his death.

Here are some of the butterflies I spotted so far:

Butterflies (and in the case of this piece of meta, moth) symbolize most commonly resurrection, change and renewal. Behind the symbolism stands the transformation of a small, ungainly creature into something full-grown and unbound. In that case, in the simplest way, one could argue that butterflies were chosen to symbolize her because the ‘Mary Morstan’ persona was a stillborn’s identity that was stolen and used ‘reborn’ to create a new person.

But more than this simplistic idea; butterflies carry multiple symbolisms. When it comes to Sherlock, I and many others tend to look at Victorian symbolism, considering the detective’s Victorian roots.

I find the appearance of butterflies interesting in Mary’s context, much like I find the skull interesting in Sherlock’s. The skulls, in Sherlock’s case, serve plenty of purposes, but one of them is the idea of memento mori.

Memento mori (Latin for 'remember that you [have to] die') is an artistic or symbolic reminder of the inevitability of death. These are representations that can appear in any form of art such as paintings, literature, poetry etc. It’s a concept that existed in many ancient cultures but is also deeply rooted in early Christianity. It serves to remind people of the inevitable; that even if we choose to ignore it, not think about it, it’s always there lurking, and the purpose is not to scare us but to encourage us to make good use of our time when we’re alive. Memento mori was the philosophy of reflecting on your own death as a form of spiritual improvement, and rejecting earthly vanities.

Victorians were obsessed with the concept (weren’t Victorians obsessed with everything?). They would take photographs of the dead and keep locks of hair of those who died in mourning brooches. It is said that they found these practices comforting.

Another expression of the ‘remember that you must die’ concept was vanitas art; vanitas is a symbolic work of art showing the transience of life, the futility of pleasure, and the certainty of death. The Latin noun vanitas (from the Latin adjective vanus 'empty') means 'emptiness', 'futility', or 'worthlessness', the traditional Christian view being that earthly goods and pursuits are transient and worthless. It alludes to Ecclesiastes 1:2; 12:8, where vanitas translates the Hebrew word hevel (הבל), which also includes the concept of transitoriness.

This concept reminds me, most especially, of the skull used in The Abominable Bride, which is actually Charles Allen Gilbert's 'All is Vanity' Illusion art.

Back to butterflies - butterflies are a staple component of vanitas art - paintings executed in the vanitas style were meant to remind viewers of the transience of life, the futility of pleasure, and the certainty of death. They also provided a moral justification for painting attractive objects - in a way, it’s a justification for the vanity, or the human need of enjoyment of beautiful things. Below is a vanitas by Jan Sanders van Hemessen:

But butterflies are also considered an omen of death:

“Butterflies and moths were associated with death, sometimes merely as omens, sometimes as the soul or ghost.” These butterfly omens came in many ways. For example, in the nineteenth century United States, some people thought that a trio of butterflies was an omen of death.” [x]

Oh.

But I also think there’s more to the butterfly symbolism than Mary’s imminent death; I suggest that, in keeping with @loudest-subtext-in-tv M-Theory (suggesting that Mary was planted in John’s life by Moriarty), they symbolize Mary as Moriarty reincarnated following his death in TRF. That Moriarty had indeed not disappointed Sherlock - there was a posthumous game after all! That Sherlock was supposed to understand that while one form of Moriarty died on that roof, another had emerged, continuing the mission of burning Sherlock’s heart. Mary is Moriarty’s calling card, left behind in the crime scene. They’re different, but not separate, which is why Sherlock is so obsessed with Moriarty between HLV-T6T; he’s both wrong and correct at the same time.

So far, what I’ve suggested is that in Sherlock, skulls are Sherlock’s symbolic memento mori - the skulls are associated with Sherlock in some very significant ways.

However, Mary’s character was doomed from the start - she dies during Sherlock’s hiatus in ACD canon. I believe many fans assumed Sherlock’s Mary expected the same fate when she was introduced to the show. Although the story of Samarra is told by Sherlock, who expects his own death in T6T, Mary is the one who ends up dying.

Butterflies in ACD canon

Searching for the significance of butterflies in the ACD and BBC canon led me to a number of interesting directions in meta written by others.

The first and probably the best place to start is this meta post by @tendergingergirl, which I strongly suggest you read in full: Butterflies, Sexual Deviancy & The Bloodline Theory in The Hound of The Baskervilles.

Stapleton also has a hobby. He collects bugs…Butterflies, to be exact. This can often be seen as purely academic, but depending on the actions of the hobbyist, they can indicate more disturbing things. That of holding something vulnerable captive, treating it as your hostage, pinning it down. The torture of animals has come to be a good indicator of someone who would do this to a human. He had already shown callousness by laughing as he recounts to Holmes of ponies wandering onto the Moor, becoming trapped, and dying. In 1974, there was a release of a new edition of Sherlock Holmes stories, with the forward of The Hound of The Baskervilles written by British author, John Fowles. He is responsible for several well-known works, including The French Lieutenant’s Wife. Another, was a novel that Mason finds himself wondering why Fowles doesn’t mention in his introduction, since the villain is such a close parallel to Stapleton.(but as we have learned through the study of ACD, most writers will not come right out and say where they got their inspiration. They like for you to guess!)

A lonely young man, works as a clerk, and collects butterflies, becomes obsessed with a pretty young girl, Miranda, an art student. He chloroforms, and kidnaps her, taking her to his cellar basement, to add Miranda to his collection. That book was called The Collector. But what else does it sound like?

“So yes, I googled. From an article on the release of the movie’s Documentary. "The docu proves a poor reference point for anyone who wants to understand the literary and movie links for “Lambs.” There’s no mention, for example, of how Harris partly based the butterfly-loving Bill on John Fowles’ kidnapper in “The Collector” …And here I thought Mofftiss added allusions to Silence of The Lambs into Sherlock just for fun. SMH.”

@tendergingergirl also added this photo to their post:

So what we have here is a chain of metatextualities/inspiration, starting with ACD’s THOB, where Jack Stapelton inspires a book about a disturbed butterfly collector (The Collector by John Fowles), which inspires a the author of Silence of the Lambs in creation of his character Buffalo Bill, a serial murderer who inserts a death's head moth into the victim's throat because he is fascinated by the insect's metamorphosis. Silence of the Lambs served as inspiration for Sherlock as analyzed by @garkgatiss in Bond, Hannibal, and Holmes (I suggest you read the whole Hannibal section) .

Let’s look again at some imagery from His Last Vow. Mary shoots Sherlock’s heart, essentially burning his heart out, and who does Sherlock meet in his Mind Palace in a very cocoon-like straightjacket? Yes, the dead dude who encourages him to die already (“one more push, and off you pop”).

What’s the next thing we as an audience see once Sherlock opens his eyes? Mary coming to the hospital to hear that Sherlock had, in fact, survived. And what is she wearing? Her butterfly scarf, one which will another appearance later in the episode, during the tarmac scene.

I also find it interesting that in the context of Sherlock and Silence of the Lamb, there’s an element of gender-switching between Moriarty and Mary. Buffalo Bill, the murderer from Silence of the Lambs, skins bodies of women to create himself a woman’s 'suit’; in Sherlock, Moriarty is a man-villain who transforms into a female-villain in the form of a bride and/or Mary.

By the way, who else is obsessed with his suits?

Also, let’s not forget the worms, maggots and other such crawlers in the grave scene:

Now, let’s go over some of the photos I included in the beginning of this post a bit further.

Mrs. Hudson’s butterfly tea set is first shown in TEH - she uses it to serve John tea when he comes visiting her and tellis her about Mary. We also see it near John’s chair on the day of the wedding. This isn’t Sherlock’s set - his set is different, featuring the British Isles. Moriarty drinks from it in TRF. The next tea set we see, now that Moriarty is dead, is the butterflies one. In TLD, Mrs. Hudson uses Sherlock’s tea set - the butterflies are gone.

Mary’s bedroom wallpaper is very feminine, with flowers and butterflies, both complementing symbols while also very common in vanitas art. Much like Mrs. Hudson’s wallpaper in Baker Street, Mary’s wallpaper is supposed to show the contrast between Mary’s flat/Mary and Sherlock’s flat/Sherlock.

There’s an interesting moth reference in The Empty Hearse, which in my opinion, is Mary & Moriarty related. In short, in a previous piece of meta I wrote, I suggested that the Jack the Ripper case in TEH is subtext alluding to Mary’s skeletons, which Sherlock ignores because he’s upset by his reception by John. And what’s one of the first things Sherlock notices about the skeleton? New mothballs smell, hinting at an attempt to get rid of moth/butterflies - maybe a hint to the fact that Sherlock has a chance to discover the truth about Mary but misses it. Also, in the context of Mary and the Jack the Ripper case, notice this transition:

Transitions are important on Sherlock - they’re nearly always there to draw our attention.

This, I think, is perhaps the most telling about a possible connection between Mary and Moriarty: we have both magpies (a Moriarty hint) and butterflies together here. This isn’t the only hint of Mary’s past we get in the wedding; there is, after all, the telegram from CAM.

Mary’s scarf is colorful, and it appears by the time Sherlock’s subconscious suspects Mary. Mary’s black butterfly dress - an ominous dress, I’d say - is the one she wears during the labour scene in the car. The third photo is a behind the scenes photo uploaded by Amanda Abbington, although I’m unsure whether this necklace is AA’s or Mary’s (but I couldn’t pass on including this).

Interestingly, the butterflies do not appear in Rosie’s context - either because it’s a telling sign that Mary won’t be with us much longer, or because Rosie is spared being considered a part of the ‘burning Sherlock’s heart’ plan. Sherlock, on the surface, seems to love Rosie and accepts her.

Also, another BTS photograph I came across during my research which I’ve never seen before and ties nicely to the vanity topic is this one (found here):

The Death's-head hawkmoth and ‘Death with Interruptions’

You’ll recall that I referenced The Collector and Silence of the Lambs, both featuring butterflies on their cover art.

The Silence of the Lambs cover features Acherontia atropos, otherwise known as the death's-head hawkmoth. It gets its name from the sinister-looking skull shape on its back. In many cultures it is thought to be an omen of death. In a bit of another coincidental but stunning piece of symbolism, all three species of the Death's-head hawkmoth are commonly observed raiding beehives of different species of honey bee; A. atropos only invades colonies of the well-known western honey bee, Apis mellifera, and feeds on both nectar and honey. They can move about in hives without being disturbed because they mimic the scent of the bees and are not recognised as intruders.

Anyway, the use of Acherontia atropos reminded me of the book ‘Death with Interruptions’ by Jose Saramago. Interestingly, this is another book about a deathly collector with a butterfly on the cover:

In Death with Interruptions death is a woman, and she falls in love with one of her future victims. She decides to spare his life: Every time death sends him his letter [notifying him of his imminent death], it gets returned. death discovers that, without reason, this man has mistakenly not been killed. Although originally intending merely to analyse this man and discover why he is unique, death eventually becomes infatuated with him, so much so that she takes on human form to meet him. Upon visiting the cellist, she plans to personally give him the letter; instead, she falls in love with him, and, by doing so, she becomes even more human-like.

It’s pretty common to read theories about Mary who maybe was one of the assassins due to kill John both at the pool and in front of Barts. So we have a death harbinger trying to kill someone twice and failing. She then falls in love with him.

But how does the butterfly fit in?

Well, at some point in the story, death (that’s her name, sans a capital d), contemplates that using the death head butterfly, instead of a violet piece of paper, would have sent a much stronger message to those whose death is coming for.

And here’s another last bit of coincidental reference to Sherlock: I’d argue shades of purple, among them shades of violet, are associated with Mary and her secrets. There’s the purple dress she wears in TEH, her bridesmaids’ dresses include various shades of purple (including what I would argue was a violet sash) and let’s not forget:

Oh and, by the way, remember the song Donde Estas, Yolanda from TEH, about a woman called Yolanda? Always thought it was a bit of an odd choice for a song?

Yolanda is a female given name, of Greek origin, meaning Violet.

Thoughts?

Credits: thank you @lukessense for directing me to @tendergingergirl meta about butterflies. Episode screenshots are from kissthemgoodbye.net.

@sarahthecoat @tjlcisthenewsexy @devoursjohnlock @inevitably-johnlocked @shylockgnomes @possiblyimbiassed @raggedyblue @ebaeschnbliah @gosherlocked @waitedforgarridebs @helloliriels

#mary mosrtan #butterflies #silence of the lambs #the collector #meta #sherlock meta #tjlc #johnlockendgame #jim moriarty

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hawkland · 3 years

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Destiel fic recs #3 - the (mostly) longfic edition!

It’s been a while since my last rec post - mostly because I’ve been wallowing in a number of longer fics (50-350k!) so it’s taken me a while to have enough to talk about in one post (and boy do I talk a lot, here!)

With these longer fics, I do sometimes have some caveats with my recs - or at least reasons why they might not appeal to every Dean/Cas reader. But note that if I didn’t overall strongly recommend reading the fic I wouldn’t include it in my recs here at all, so any quibbles I bring up are minor compared to my overall enjoyment of the stories. Just, I don’t want someone to commit to a long read without knowing what they’re getting into and why it might not be their thing.

I’m still not into reading complete setting AUs at this time, but a lot/most of these are canon-divergence AUs, often written/set at the end of a season and giving an alternative take on what happened next. I love those kind of stories, as it’s often so interesting to see how fans thought of what might happen in the next season (especially when it’s better than what we actually got.)

Onto the recs & discussion behind the cut!

The Sinking Ship by UnfortunatelyObsessed (114k). This is a story that ripped my heart to pieces (in a good way!). I stayed up all night to finish reading because I simply couldn’t stop once I started on it and it gave me a massive fic hanger from all my emotions. Season 14 divergence, imagine if Dean did go into the Ma’lak box to trap Michael under the ocean with him forever...and once there, he discovers that Cas has stowed away with him. Because of course Cas would never leave Dean to such a fate on his own.

I loved literally. Every. Damn. Thing. About this fic. Cas telling Dean stories to pass the (endless) time. Their small intimate moments while realizing they can never consummate physically while trapped in the box but finding every other way to express their love. The absolute heartbreak that had me SOBBING when Michael fights for control of Dean and destroys everything they’ve built together and Cas thinks he’s lost Dean forever. Sam & Gabriel & Rowena & Claire & Jack doing everything they can to devise a plan back home to try to save them both while keeping Michael trapped. Also even just the wonderfully sensitive portrayal of aroace Jack still closely bonded with Claire and Maggie and just. And just. This is a story I’ve already re-read just to savor how much I loved it and its portrayal of everyone in TFW 2.0 and their extended family, it just hit my id in all the most incredible ways and I have nothing but absolute love for this one.

Beautiful Chaos by anyrei, mugglerock (141k). Season 9 canon-divergence, in which Dean doesn’t simply abandon Cas to fend for himself post 09x03. Instead he sets Cas up in a kind of squatter’s nest in an abandoned building near the bunker so he can keep tabs on him and help him out.

This fic definitely gets the award for FILTHIEST, HOTTEST, SMUTTIEST Dean/Cas (and Cas/other) I’ve read in, like, ever, for human!Cas turns out to be a rather insatiable sex fiend/cock slut and Dean is too up his own repressed ass to easily give Cas what he wants/needs. It is dark at times, Cas ends up in some very unsavory/non-con situations, and the authors do mention that they tried to hone in on endverse!Cas’s characterization more than what we saw in Season 9...so you might roll with it, you might not. I adored their original character Jerry the tattoo artist in this, and like I said it was seriously hot (if you are good with total bottom!Cas and Cas with others, I know those are not everyone’s cuppa). I did have a few minor issues. For one, the last chapter felt a bit rushed and hand-wavey, but clearly the authors weren’t fond of the canon conflicts of season 9 & 10 (Abbadon, Mark of Cain) and just wanted to be done with them. Can’t say I really blame them. And I did have to laugh a bit at Lebanon, Kansas apparently having such a bustling gay bar/tattoo artist/etc scene being someone from a butt-fuck nowhere American small town myself. But, SPN was never all that realistic in how Lebanon was shown (and yes I’ve spent too much time roaming around it on Google maps), so if you can suspend some disbelief this is an awesome hot/angsty/occasionally heartbreaking read.

These Forsaken Lands by destielpasta (53k). I came upon this story when looking for fics that dealt in some way with the aftermath of Godstiel. This is a wonderfully atmospheric late Season 9 “fill-in” case fic (post Meta-fiction) where Cas ends up in a small town that had been visited by Godstiel...and while initially residents have reaped much good fortune, there has suddenly been a wave of deaths/bad events and he is determined to find out what happened and set things right. He calls upon Dean for help, but Dean is fighting the Mark of Cain and it’s going to take a lot to get past its control and find a way out for both of them. Together they work on repairing an old church while trying to repair each other and their damaged relationship.

I loved this story for how well written it was, really invoking a gothic small-town/Americana atmosphere. The original characters blend in very well with the case-fic at the center of it, and the author deals really well with Cas at a very fragile point when he’s running on borrowed grace and trying to navigate Dean’s MoC-enhanced anger. It’s Dean/Cas but actually much more of a Cas character study, so I highly recommend it to my fellow/compatriot Cas-girls who love a good wallow in his head.

Mixed Emotions by Tierra469 (50k). Canon 12 “parallel” fic that then goes canon-divergent with the season finale. I actually stumbled on this while in the mood to read some Cas/ or & Mary fic after enjoying their interactions in Season 12 (don’t hate me). This is sort of two fics in one. The first half focuses mostly on filling in the gaps with some critical S12 Cas episodes, especially Cas & Mary’s developing friendship (and one night of something more). But of course Cas’s feelings for Dean (and vice-versa) are always there, and when Cas figures out a way to get his powers fully back, the question is if Dean can open himself up to be vulnerable - and express love - the way Cas needs for this to work.

This was an interesting fic in a lot of ways. I loved the author’s take on angels’ connections to their vessels and grace, it was very consistent in a way the show sometimes/often wasn’t. Cas is very Cas in not understanding privacy and personal boundaries (so he does some questionable things, admittedly, which might squick some readers). The smut is fucking HOT - though I will caution at one point it involves Cas temporarily in a younger (NOT underage) female vessel (and the story does point out Dean’s discomfort with this and some of the consent issues involved, I don’t want to spoil too much). I wanted the Mary plot resolved more than it was, but I still recommend this story strongly for the quality of the writing and unique/well-developed take on angel lore and mechanics that was quite different from what I’m used to reading.

We Are Either Here Or Not Here by petramacneary (54k) A post-season 12 fic that goes on a different tangent to how Cas returns, and what happens in the meantime. Particularly, it offers a different take on what apocalypseverse!Cas would be like—as Mary makes her own way back from that world with AU!Cas as her prisoner.

What I loved about this story: first off, BAMF!Mary is awesome here. Dean is so heartbreaking, not quite knowing what the fuck to do with this different Cas who at times is just a painful reminder of who/what Dean’s lost...but then becomes a chance for Dean to say and express some of the things he always was afraid to in the past. And when (real/our) Cas finally returns, there’s some very interesting stuff that happens with both Cas & AU!Cas and Cas & Dean that I don’t want to spoil. (And let’s also just say that when real!Cas and Dean finally get together it’s AMAZINGLY awesome. Like, hot Impala!sex. So is the artwork that goes with this story.)

You Can Keep Holding On by NorthernSparrow (353k) The longest fic I read this time around and probably the one I have the most mixed feelings about, but a while on I do keep thinking about parts of it so I do rec it with some caveats. This is a canon-divergence after the end of Season 11. Dean & Sam find Cas after he’s been blasted out of the bunker...to the bottom of the Grand Canyon. Mary isn’t in this one except for a brief appearance/visit, which Dean thinks is Amara’s gift to him. Life seems good for a while, they’re enjoying dealing with mundane problems for a change, but then Cas seems to be pulling away from the brothers, spending less and less time with them at the bunker, taking a mundane job at another Gas ‘n Sip, and clearly preoccupied by something else. Or is it someone else? Dean is worried yet finally ready to accept that Cas maybe has a girlfriend, or a boyfried, but then it turns out that is not at all what Cas has going on. It’s something far more serious than that.

Honestly I almost stopped reading when the reveal happened - it’s a subject that’s very sensitive to me from personal/family experience and not something I usually like reading in fic (especially if there is a sad ending.) So I admit I jumped ahead to read how it would end first before committing to finishing it. And I am glad I did, because the author handles the subject matter with a realism and obvious knowledge of experience as well, not how I often see it in fanfic. There are a lot of emotional ups and downs but it’s nice seeing Dean in his momma-hen/mode, and Sam is so so good in this one! I think I enjoyed Sam’s characterization here most of all! And the author has a really cool/well developed angel/wing lore that hit my wing-kink pretty hard. I do think it could have all been edited down a bit - I found myself skimming parts, especially in the last third, just to get on with things. But it’s definitely a story you can disappear into for a good long time and I’ve bookmarked the author’s other works to read later, so again, I do rec it even with a few caveats.

A few shorter fics, too, just because I don’t want to forget about them...

Eleven Erogenous Zones of a Fallen Angel by almaasi (15k) Pure gratuitous wing!kink for me :) Cas uses the last of his grace to manifest his wings...but then is stuck with them in his human form and not even able to use them to fly as he used to. This presents a lot of awkward problems to deal with but also the excuse for Dean to help him keep them clean :) I did say wing kink, right? :D :D I loved how Cas seemed confused about the pleasure signals he got from bathing vs. sex vs. grooming and all of that. It’s sweet and hot and has my favorite kind of caretaking Dean in it.

Fossil Tracks by SegaBarrett (3k). Dean & Sam & Cas and dinosaurs. How can you go wrong with that? One of the SPN stories from the Id Pro Quo collection I really enjoyed reading (and didn’t write myself, lol).

#destiel recs #my fic recs #deancas recs #fandom that ate my life hello #destiel fic recs #my destiel recs

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turtle-steverogers · 3 years

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Team Bonding

fr when was the last time i posted like,,, a fic on here. like a tumblr fic. damn. anyway. ummmmmmmm this is just your.... typical steve freaks out and the avengers are awesome um yah ok ok

warnings: panic attack, vomiting (basically steve watches the titanic and doesnt have a very fun time)

word count: 2575

If Steve was being brutally honest with himself, he was fucking tired of hearing about “the classics”. Irrelevant people butting their noses into his business, tipping him off to what movies were, “the best of the best!” and “absolute must sees!” He appreciated what they were trying to do, but after a while, it felt like people were more or less just trying to garner a slice of his 21st century experience, and quite frankly, he liked doing things better by himself. It was much more appealing to park himself in front of his laptop, nothing but his own quietude to keep him company as he combed through different wikipedia rabbit holes and caught up on movies and TV shows that were apparently crucial to his very existence.

Most were subpar and honestly, he preferred the copious amounts of popcorn he treated himself to on these solo date nights, but some things surprised him. Like Indiana Jones. He liked Indiana Jones. He was neat, and Marion reminded him vaguely of Peggy.

Still, he supposed he should have seen it coming when Clint came to collect him from his floor one evening, that sort of eager-puppy energy he carried around with him vaguely prickling the back of Steve’s neck.

“C’mon, man,” he was saying. Steve leaned against the door jamb, tired. He was going to concede, but Clint was rambling and Steve knew better than to interrupt him. “It’s, like, certifiably the best love story ever. You need to watch it--”

And there it was again. That fucking claim. You need to watch this! You haven’t seen that?

No. He hadn’t. He’d been a little busy, you know, being dead.

“--And the acting is all so raw and it’s just-- Leo DiCaprio-- you know who that--”

“--Yes. I saw Blood Diamond--”

“--Oh, you did? Well, anyway, he rocks in this and--”

“Clint,” Steve cut him off smoothly. “I’ll come, don’t sweat it too hard.”

Clint looked positively elated. “You will?” he exclaimed. “Awesome, yeah, it’s gonna be the whole team. I mean, that’s good right? You’re cool with that? You gotta be, you’re the one who mentioned team bonding that one time--”

“Yes,” Steve cut in again. “I’m alright with that. Give me a minute to change, and I’ll be right down?” He was still in his gym clothes from two hours ago. He meant to take a shower, but he’d sort of… ran out of energy. The sweat had cooled by now anyway. He smelled fine.

“Oh! Yeah, no problem.”

Which was how Steve found himself in a pair of sweatpants and an old SHIELD t-shirt, squashed in between Natasha and Bruce on the communal couch. Someone had handed him a huge bowl of popcorn and Steve was pleasantly surprised to find that it was flavored with some sort of cheese powder.

“White cheddar,” Bruce said, holding up a little blue shaker bottle when he heard Steve’s appreciative hum. “They’re, uh, sort of like seasoning, but for popcorn specifically. They come in all different kinds of flavors.”

“Oh, neat,” Steve said, around another handful of popcorn. He liked Bruce. He seemed to get Steve in that quiet, brutally raw sort of way. A quiet kinship. They didn’t talk about it, but he never made him feel condescended, so Steve decided that was okay.

“I think I fixed it!” Tony said, stepping out from behind the ginormous movie screen where, presumably, he’d been fixing a volume problem. The screen had been frozen on the first frame of the movie for nearly ten minutes. “Okay, okay, let’s see…” he pressed play. Music poured through the speakers on either side of the TV, loud enough so that everyone cringed and Steve nearly dropped the popcorn bowl in his haste to cover his ears. He always managed to forget how damn loud the world could be when he let himself get comfortable.

“Sorry, sorry!” Tony hissed, turning the volume down to a much more tolerable level. “Okay, there. Okay, shh everyone. Gotta let Capsicle--”

“--Just Steve, Tony--”

“--Gotta let Just Steve get the full experience.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but settled in to watch.

The film was honestly better than Steve had been expecting, if not a little… itchy in that way period films tended to be for him. The themes of poverty and love were pretty well-rounded, but they hit just close enough that he almost cringed at the far-fetch’d beauty of it.

Still, his fingers itched for a pencil as Jack guided a pencil over the worn sheaf of paper. The dim light, the faint scratch of the pencil, the forbidden love. It was familiar. Steve could almost smell the salty City air, afternoons spent under the dim lights of candles so they could see even with the curtains drawn-- a semblance of privacy amongst the compact vulnerability of his and Bucky’s shitty little tenement.

Draw me like one of your french girls, Rose had said, and Steve’s eyes drifted towards the wall, Bucky’s voice echoing through his head.

“‘Course I want you to draw me. I ain’t denying my vanity, Stevie,” he teased, but his eyes were soft. “Pal, you could draw a stick of butter and I’d still wanna watch. It ain’t about me here.”

There was a soft touch to his arm and Steve blinked out of his reverie. Natasha was watching him, a neutral look on her face that Steve had finally learned to recognize as concern. He shook his head minutely, offering her a smile. She nodded and looked back at the TV.

The rest of the movie passed without much excitement. The acting was pretty good and Steve had even gotten to a point where he could recognize the filmmaking as something like revolutionary for the time it came out. He was quicker on the cultural uptake than people gave him credit for, but that was neither here nor there. He laughed with everyone else, let himself grow somber when the atmosphere lent that mood, and generally, it was a nice time. He hadn’t gone to any movie nights before this, but he thought maybe he’d start going to more.

And then the ship hit the iceberg.

Steve wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. Obviously, he knew of the Titanic-- he knew, historically, what happened to it. But for some reason, it hadn’t quite hit him while watching the movie that he was going to have to see the catastrophe go down.

There was a loud creaking of ice on metal as the collision occurred on screen and Steve felt himself go still-- body rigid and tense as the deafening noise played through the speakers. His heart slammed in his chest and he felt his palms start to sweat. He knew that sound-- he knew that--

--He blinked, shaking his head. Movie. Watch the movie. There was a panicked scramble on screen. Characters rushing to amend the situation, more metal creaking and groaning and breaking as dark, foamy water broke through the sides of the ship and Steve could taste it, he could taste the water flooding into the cabin, hitting him from the left as it took the plane down in a harsh--

--He twitched, shaking his head. He was being silly. There were moments of reconciliation as the scenes rapidly flashed between water flooding the ships cabins and peaceful moments of civility. A calm before the storm. A final dance before death.

I’m gonna need a raincheck on that dance…

There was a sudden crash as water blasted through into the work quarters and Steve jumped, watching transfixed as unforgiving torrents pushed workers over, flooding them, drowning them, and they were falling, slipping, sliding, panicking as certain death met them at the halfway point, and Steve knew it must be cold. So cold. Suffocating and unforgiving as it flooded their lungs, saltier than they probably imagined, heavy and awful and--

“Stark, turn the movie off.”

The room went abruptly silent. Steve realized his eyes were closed, chest heaving as he sat, hunched over his lap, hands fisted in his hair.

The popcorn wasn’t on his lap anymore. When had he moved? He couldn’t breathe and he was so cold and someone needed to save those guys, someone needed to--

“Steve,” a gentle voice cut into the roaring waves crashing in his head. Bruce. That was Bruce speaking. “Can you hear me, Steve?”

Steve nodded, pulling his hair harder. He couldn’t breathe. Was he drowning again? Surely that was impossible. If Bruce was talking to him, he couldn’t be drowning again, but-- but the water-- and-- and the cold--

“Good, that’s good, Steve,” Bruce. Bruce again. It was Bruce. “Can I touch you?”

Touch. Touch. No touch. He was so cold. He wanted to stop being cold, but he was certain if someone touched him right now, he would lose his goddamn mind. More so than he already had.

“That’s alright,” Bruce sounded steady. Calm. So calm. Why couldn’t Steve calm down? “That’s okay. You think you can do something for me?”

Something… for Bruce? Could he? Could he do anything right then? If he couldn’t breathe, how could he do anything-- and he-- he felt sick--

He opened his mouth to answer and vomited between his feet, straight onto the carpet. Someone in the room hissed sympathetically. Steve wanted to crawl somewhere and die.

“Oh, Steve,” Bruce seemed to be talking mostly to himself, but Steve felt his shoulders climb higher towards his ears. “Okay, Steve, I need you to listen to my voice. Just listen. I’m going to count and you’re going to breathe in time with my instruction, okay? Can you do that for me?”

Steve shook his head, choking on a sob. His chest hurt. Like someone had taken all of his ribs and replaced them with weights, flooding his lungs with-- with water-- and fuck, now he was thinking about the plane again. He felt his breathing tick up higher.

“I want you to try,” Bruce said. “With me. In,” he sucked in a breath. “One… two… three… four…”

Steve tried to suck in a breath, but all he managed to do was send himself into a coughing fit. Bruce kept counting. Steve wanted to tell him to wait-- slow down-- shut up--

He braced a hand over his chest.

Bruce was still counting.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed, but eventually he found himself matching Bruce’s counts, eyes closed and the heels of his palms braced on his temples as he sucked in greedy, measured breaths. His heart was still slamming hard enough to make him tremble and he could smell his own sick wafting up from the ground, but at least he was breathing on his own.

Bruce trailed off. Silence hung thick in the air, the only noise Steve’s slow, shaking breaths. Shame burned around his ears. He didn’t dare look up.

Tony, predictably, was the one to break the silence. “I’m sorry, Steve,” he said, and Steve was surprised to hear honest regret in his voice. “I was the one who suggested we watch Titanic. I should have thought for more than two seconds about that…”

Steve shrugged. Embarrassment climbed from his stomach to his throat, threatening to choke him.

Natasha spoke next. “Why don’t you go wash up?” It was an escape-- a way out-- and Steve took it graciously, keeping his head ducked down as he stood on shaking legs and rushed to the communal bathroom.

Inside, he locked the door and braced himself over the sink, splashing warm water on his face. He drank greedily from the tap. His reflection looked like shit-- he’d burst some blood vessels in his eyes, probably while vomiting, and his skin looked sallow and pale. He was trembling, sweat matting his hair to his forehead. He looked how he looked after a nightmare. This, he supposed, had kind of been like a nightmare. Though, he hadn’t been asleep.

Nightmares, he was finding, weren’t strictly exclusive to the nighttime.

He supposed he’d always known that, though.

He closed his eyes, bowing his head again.

His emotions had been fucked to high hell since waking up from the ice. This hadn’t been the first of those awful… fits, and he was certain it wouldn’t be the last, but to have something like that happen in front of the team was a whole new level of mortifying. Fuck. He’d gotten sick. And he’d left it.

He felt the ceramic counter straining under his grip. Scowling, he let go.

He could slip off to his room, lock himself away until he could find some way to sneak out of the Tower and never talk to any of the others ever again. Even in this state, Steve knew that wasn’t viable in any sense. He sighed. Besides, he couldn’t just damn the others to clean up his mess.

Stowing his pride, he dug some spare mouthwash out from behind the mirror and chugged some straight down, keeping a mouthful and swishing it around before spitting it in the sink. He still felt and looked like shit, but at least his breath would smell like wintergreen.

The others were still gathered in the communal living room, watching what looked like a kid’s cartoon on TV. There was a distinct smell of cleaner in the air and Steve’s eyes landed on the ground where he’d gotten sick. It was clean. He let his eyes drop to the ground, ashamed.

“I’m sorry,” he said. The cartoon paused. He didn’t look at any of them. “I was going to clean up.”

“Nah, man, the only thing worse than freaking out is having to clean up after yourself while you still feel shitty,” Clint said, and Steve looked up. There was no pity in his gaze, only understanding.

“Yeah, we’ve all been there,” Tony said. “Sucks, but hey, least we know now that Titanic is a no-no for you.”

Steve flushed, swallowing a few times. “Um, I guess,” he looked at Bruce. “Thank you.”

Bruce smiled. “No problem,” he said gently. “We’re watching Phineas and Ferb if you’d like to join us, but we understand if you’d like to go rest.”

“Phineas and Ferb?” Steve asked, guilt replaced with genuine confusion.

“Yeah,” Clint said, shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth. “It’s my go-to when I have a bad day. Nothing like some good old platypus drama to cure life’s woes.”

Steve blinked. “I genuinely don’t know what to say to that.”

Clint barked out a laugh. “Join us, man! Don’t gotta talk if you’re not feeling it, but being alone after shit like that sucks.”

And Steve hadn’t had someone there for him after a breakdown-- not since the war. Not since Bucky. Every ounce of him wanted to run. Hide. Smooth out his face and slip on that mask of stoicism. But maybe… maybe he didn’t have to. Maybe he could let himself have this, if only this once.

“Sure,” he said, voice a little hoarse. He awkwardly sat back in between Natasha and Bruce.

Tony pressed play again and Steve smoothed his hands over his thighs, feeling out of place and a little cramped and--

Natasha settled, casually letting her feet rest on his lap. On his other side, Bruce leaned into his shoulder, a subtle, grounding pressure. Clint caught his eye and offered him some more popcorn.

Steve relaxed.

Yeah. He could let himself have this.

thanks for reading, chiefs

yeah this was chatted about in one of the awesome discord groups im in so thanks guyysss lol

#marvel shit #marvel #Steve Rogers #marvel fic #steve rogers fic #Avengers #team bonding #yes #avengers fic #i love them all #dlakjfl #ok #crawling back into my hole #im definitely supposed to be doing homework

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shirtlesssammy · 3 years

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3x14: Long-Distance Call

Guys! We have a special surprise next week!! (Hint: We finally get to recap the gay angel episodes again!) Until then, enjoy our last episode for season 3...

Then:

Sam’s saving his brother no matter what

Now:

On a stormy night, a man drinks alone, contemplating life. His phone rings. It’s Linda. Ben tells her he can’t. “My wife.” He hangs up the phone. It rings again. Linda pleads with him. She loves him. He hangs up again. The phone rings AGAIN. He slams it down repeatedly and tears it from the wall. IT RINGS AGAIN! Damn, Linda, you are persistent. To stop the ringing, Ben pulls out a gun and shoots himself.

Dean tells Sam they have a case. Sam tells Dean that they’re on a case --his. Dean balks at that because they’ve got nothing. Bela’s gone, the Colt’s gone, and Dean would rather work a case they can solve than wallow in his imminent death.

They head to Milan, Ohio. They head right to the dead guy’s house and interview his widow. She’s a little belligerent but tells them that there was blood everywhere (Oh, that’s why she’s belligerent), favorite scotch was out, and the phone was ripped from the wall.

Sam asks to look at the crime scene. He goes through the caller ID. Dean asks about strange phone calls. She admits that a couple weeks prior she picked up on a call that Ben was on. It was static. No one was there.

Research time!

Dean finds out that “Linda” was Ben’s high school sweetheart --and she died in a car accident. On top of that, she was cremated. On top on top of that, Sam discovered that the caller ID on the phone traces back to a phone number used a century ago! (I presume Sam did all that research while he stared out the window.)

They head to the bowels of the phone company to find fly infested, porn addicted Stewie. I’m going to skip over all this but will laugh at the ad that said “Order now & receive a bone-us gift!” Sam asks Stewie to trace the old-time number. (Natasha: flames on the side of my face at this damn offensive porn franchise.)

Dean pulls out the threat level 5 on the guy and the guy finds some results. There’s different houses that all received a call from that number.

Sam heads to investigate one house. He poses as a phone company employee. He asks about strange phone activity. The man that answers the phone says that they haven’t had any issues. Sam notices the daughter looking concerned in the background.

She pops outside to call his bluff. She wants to know why he was asking about the phones. He gives her a little give and she admits that she’s been talking on the phone with her mom --who’s dead.

Dean checks in with similar stories. Then he gets a call. It’s the static-y voice of John Winchester.

Later at the motel, Sam wants to know more about Dean’s call. Dean gets all nervous boy about it possibly really being their dad, and what they should do about it. What should Dean say? Sam, ever the pragmatist, suggests, “hello.” It’s funny, but I guess not really because Dean walks out on his brother.

Dean comes back with a reason why things are happening here. It’s the birthplace of Thomas Edison, and there’s a museum with Edison’s spirit phone.

They take a tour but the phone doesn’t have any EMF. They’re stumped as to what’s happening.

Later that night, while Sam slumbers, Dean stays awake to answer his phone. John calls again. He asks Dean how he could sell his soul. “I was looking after Sammy like you told me to.” (Boris screams into the void) John tells Dean that the demon that holds Dean’s contract is in Ohio.

Meanwhile, the daughter from earlier is IMing a friend when she gets a message from her dead mom. The mom says she wants to see her. The girl is scared but her mom reassures her that she’s with her. Then the girl’s computer flickers out and in the reflection of the monitor, we see the girl and her mom.

The next morning, Sam returns from interviewing Lanie, the haunted daughter, to find Dean obsessing over demon omens. He shares his intel with Sam.

Dean’s pretty sure the demon who owns his contract is following him. I pull a Dean voice to say, “Why are you so obsessed with me?” only Dean’s actual line in the show is “My ass is too sweet to let out of sight.” God. This show. Sam tries to tell him that the demon-killing exorcism that John gave Dean over the phone might not be as advertised. Dean’s a believer, though. He’s got faith in John! (Just gonna take a li’l writing break to tear at my hair.)

Sam heads back to watch over Lanie, but before he goes the Winchesters hold an emotional shouting match. Dean’s ready to stop the demon from coming after him once and for all and thinks that Sam’s reticence is just more head-butting with their (now dead) dad. Sam accuses Dean of having “blind faith” towards his father and I weep. Sam leaves with one request: that Dean stay put until he returns from seeing Lanie. So. That’s going to go well.

Lanie explains to Sam what’s been going on - that her mom’s requests have extended beyond the normal grieving cemetery visit. We cut to a young kid playing in his room. His toy phone rings. “Hi, mommy!” he chirps.

Cut to Dean “Single Man Tear” Winchester sitting dramatically by his phone. It rings.

Lanie reveals to Sam that her mother’s ghost told her to kill herself. When Sam hears the ghost’s catchphrase, “come to me,” he realizes that they’re dealing with something else entirely.

While Sam experiences revelation, Dean heads off alone following his dad’s orders. f r o w n y f a c e. He ends up in a quiet, suburban home.

Meanwhile, Lanie’s brother Simon (of the toy phone fame) has gone missing. Sam saves him just in time from getting pancaked by a truck. As soon as the kids are buttoned up back home, Sam calls Dean. He tells him that a crocatta is after the people of the town. It’s a scavenger that lures grieving people and eats their souls. It tends to dwell in filth. Dean recalls the flies at the phone company, so Sam heads out on a hunt. (Meanwhile, YES, Dean’s off having his own questionable adventures, setting demon traps in a nearby house.)

Sam calls Dean for backup before assaulting Stewie, the phone guy. “I know what you are and I know how to kill you,” Sam says to the terrified guy. Someone looms behind Sam with a baseball bat. It’s Clark, the manager! He takes out poor soft-headed Sammy. Unfortunately, Clark takes out Stewie too.

They both wake up tied to chairs inside the building. Clark kills Stewie and then fangs out. He unhinges his jaw and sucks out Stewie’s soul. Yummy? Clark then lays his hands on the phone console...because it’s time to kill Dean!

Elsewhere, in a police locker room, a man’s phone rings. It’s his daughter. “I know who killed me, daddy,” she says. The girl’s voice tells him that her killer is at their house right now.

Clark explains to Sam that spoofing John Winchester was incredibly easy. All he had to do was find their phone numbers, then John’s old numbers. That let him listen to voicemails, read emails, and easily find the weak links that led him to target Dean. Oof. (Side note: a crocatta would make a seriously amazing private detective in an alternate Supernatural where monsters have better meal restraint.)

Dean stands ready at the suburban house - ready to kill a demon. The grieving officer heads home, ready to kill his daughter’s murderer.

Dean’s jug of holy water is met with an angry father with a shotgun, so things start out really well. They quickly devolve into a dirty fist fight.

Meanwhile, the crocatta continues to villain-monologue at Sam.

Technology, Clark says, makes it so much easier to target people. They’re connected - yet isolated and easier to pick off. (I scoff at this overdone oversimplification of the role of “technology” in society. I hate when people try to pretend the past was trouble-free.) Sam finds his argument weak as well, and punctuates that by breaking free of his bonds and attacking Clark.

At the house, Dean disarms the grieving cop and reveals the demon trap below the carpet. He starts reading out the exorcism. To his horror, the guy walks right out of the demon trap. When the guy accuses him of killing his daughter, the pieces click for Dean.

Sam kills Clark by jabbing his head into a retail hook suspended off the wall. OH I SEE, this show has always been obsessed with death by hook. >:|

Dean and the officer avoid killing each other. Instead, they despair in beaten silence together, before we cut to Dean holding a compress to his forehead back at the motel.

Sam and Dean go over the case back in the motel, but talk quickly switches to EMOTIONS. Sam apologizes to Dean. Dean admits he was wrong. “I wanted to believe so badly,” he says. STORY OF HIS LIFE DAMN IT. He admits that he’s terrified of dying. Terrified of Hell.

Sam gives him sad puppy eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with having hope.”

“Hope doesn’t get you jack squat,” Dean tells him.

For Sad Boys with Poor Coping Mechanisms Science:

Call Me By Your Quote:

I just talked to an 84 year old grandmother who's having phone sex with her husband, who died in Korea! It redefined my understanding of the word 'Necrophilia'

That’s what happens when you mess with the phone company, dillweed

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #dean winchester #sam winchester #spn 3x14 #long distance call #supernatural season 3

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elizabethrobertajones · 3 years

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Did Bobo really create the Wayward Sisters? If so, why weren't Jack and especially Cas included in that episode? That's my biggest issue with that pilot honestly, I mean, the fact that the show abandoned Claire and Cas' bond after season 10 and gave that storyline to Salmondean. Her bond with Cas is more interesting because of their connection to the Novaks. I also think that Claire and Jack would've made a more engaging dynamic and spin off together, I think they're strong characters & actors

Hi there!

Bobo isn’t the “creator” of Wayward so much as it can even have one, as it was a very organic idea, which even involved a healthy amount of fandom input. The original campaign in season 10 was for Wayward Daughters, and the idea picked up so much steam the altered title for, I guess, a mix of copyright and thematic relevance was the Sisters one. I’d say 10x08 was the real genesis of it as something that could be really solid. Once Kim and Briana were put together the chemistry and star power they could have had together was really meteoric as far as our small SPN world was concerned. Phil Sgriccia directed 9x13 and wrote 10x08 and was more of the parent of Wayward than any specific writer in that sense. Jody and Claire were pretty much common property of the show by that point. Claire was really introduced again in relation to plotlines and questions about Cas and less to do with them really going out of their way to re-launch her. I think they’d have been much cornier about it from the start and while YA protagonist diary writing her way through the end of Wayward Sisters was cute, it’s the sort of cutesy that really has to be earned. If she STARTED that way, like maybe me and 3 friends would be stanning her and everyone else would be revolted :P

(I am a YA fantasy novel author, but I do think everyone should make room in their hearts for this level of cheese)

In any case, Bobo just threw his hat into an already crowded ring with Alex, but obviously loving the characters and having his own personal wayward child to contribute did help elevate him to the prospective showrunner seat, but also all the other writers who’d written these characters except Dabb had left at that point. If Bobo was going to shepherd them through to their new show, he’d be the legacy writer, even though he was a new baby writer in the season Donna was introduced... Attrition aside, he did genuinely write them very well, loved their stories and was great with writing Jody when he could get her, so he would also have been a good choice even if all the others were left still...

But anyway. Season 10′s subplot for Cas was about Claire and learning some stuff about himself along the way, but she was used very much for his personal development and for Dean as well, being a mini Dean herself in a season where he had lost a lot of his sense of self. It’s a total accident of scheduling but Angel Heart (10x20) being the last episode before 10x22 is a nice touch in that regard. And while Cas tried really hard with Claire and awoke his inner Dad side so that he’d be more prepared for fatherhood next time, it was pretty insurmountable between them to have anything more than a bittersweet relationship where the best he could do was make up with her and see her somewhere safe. The fact of him looking like her actual dead father is horrendous the more you think about it and while she managed to see him for who he was instead of a horrible monster, that’s more than enough trauma to inflict on an already traumatised girl for the sake of helping Cas’s manpain and tidying up the sticky question of Jimmy and Cas’s right to the vessel.

Angel Heart very specifically ends with TFW mailing Claire to Jody because they know she’s already good with Alex in a genuine way and can handle these sort of issues and has done it before. And also because she can be a guardian who will not constantly remind Claire that her father is dead but something is walking around wearing a perfect reconstruction of his face. Carver era did a few things here and there with bodily autonomy and the problem of angel and demon vessels, but it was also really hit and miss. They’d get random waves of feeling guilty about it but then by necessity go back to stabbing angels in their still-living vessels an episode later. Claire was a way to address at the very least that whatever Cas was being put through was only a punishment on Cas and not on Jimmy as well, which is probably why we got such sappy Heaven scenes. We NEEDED to be shown he was in Heaven and largely okay with what was going on so that the show could justify using Cas at all as a character without breaking the code of ethics they tried to make their own characters adhere to. Aside from that it also gave Cas a side plot for when he wasn’t needed in the main plot, and any emotional connection to anything that wasn’t Sam and Dean.

Anyway 10x20 caused this huge fandom high which was followed by one of the lowest lows of the fandom immediately after, and both centred on female characters (in fact, now we know, 2 lesbians even! Though I’d wonder if, The Gay Agenda aside, Bobo spite-wrote that specifically because of the roots of Wayward) and I think that galvanised the whole movement of fans and hopefully some self-reflection in the show. They DID start making an effort in season 11, which shows some of the early signs of better inclusion but also backtracking or edging nervously away from the more intense Carver era stuff. Not just because Dean didn’t have the Mark any more but in general it was like someone had opened a window and let in some fresh air... Even before Carver bailed somewhere around the midseason to go do a different show and Dabb started to step up.

All this to say that the Wayward stuff was always about the female characters and making up for the past sins of the show. It’s even a riff on the “wayward son” line which obviously centres around male protagonists and their journey. Claire stumbled into being a part of it in the lucky way of being in the right place and time, but the journey had already started even in the season 10 momentum with earlier work and it was that which suddenly made the prospect that Jody had two young women living with her now seem like a starter for the next generation of the show as it was a mirrored format to season 1 in a way, if you took Alex and Claire as the new Sam and Dean. It was exciting but people flipped out after Angel Heart because stuff had been bubbling since season 9 and earlier in season 10, so this was just pouring more candy into an already visibly full bowl of potential tasty gems. It made a possibility seem real that hadn’t before because we already had Kim bitterly complaining that the CW refused to hear the case for a Jody spin off because she was too old. The next best thing was a Jody spin off where she was the Gandalf to some CW age appropriate characters.

(the CW is and always has been garbage)

Anyway in season 13 Jack was introduced as a Claire 2.0 but as a male character with staying power for that reason, but he was filling the space she left for Cas. He couldn’t be a father to her and neither really wanted that set up anyway. But thematically it had created the possibility of Dadstiel and the space he had in his heart for that. Since the show was in its waning years they would be looking for endgame and handing Cas an easy win with a son he could unconditionally love who would love him back unconditionally absolutely filled that gap. It was a non SamnDean thing that Cas could have for himself outside of whatever happened with them. Not sure the memo came back that he was supposed to have mORE than that but oh well it’s not real if you don’t watch it :))) But yeah Jack was always going to be linked to Cas’s endgame, he wasn’t a free-floating character such as Jody who could go where she wanted and do as she pleased. He was main story relevant from start to finish and tied inexorably to another main character’s fate. Because the show wouldn’t do that with its female characters they could be bundled into spin offs but in practical terms Jack was both never what the Wayward as envisioned by fans or writers was about, nor would he have been free to go.

Since it would have been about centering the stories of people overlooked by the main story, Claire a case in point that she had her life ruined in season 4 and it was a footnote until season ten, and then metaphorically more the concept of having queer and non-white characters in the mix of main characters, it would have represented a future of the story where the main show was unable to tread. Probably because of the CW. Also inherent biases in the writers. Bad cocktail. Jack is both too white and too male to fit the brief to ever leave SPN, and not only that but he is so as a precise mirror to the main white male characters, being passably any one of their sons if you squint, and meant to be instantly instinctively read as such... he was one of the safest bets of representing the show as the network wanted to imagine its target demographic.

So I really don’t think that Jack has any place being in a spin off of the show unless you want more of the same. They tried to give us something different and the CW didn’t like it because it wasn’t more of the same. Ironically a Jack spin off, with or without Claire, would have more chance of being greenlit and more chance of success. But the spin off they put their heart behind was Wayward Sisters as it was. And I think it was absolutely correct that never mind leaving Jack out of it after his work was done in the lead up episode to help set the table, but honestly they could have cut all the middle scenes of Sam and Dean wandering in the woods and gained precious seconds with the girls and still had a functioning story with those guys. It was like some cowardly missive was sent that the show couldn’t actually go more than 10 minutes without showing a flesh and blood Winchester or the whole thing would spontaneously sizzle out of syndication and the money tree would wither on the spot. And in the mean time, we could have been having Banter with the girls. Or Claire and Kaia holding hands some more. The good stuff :P

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emachinescat · 3 years

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I've decided to watch MacGyver from the beginning (again), and I'm live tweeting the experience with every tweet tagged with #savemacgyver. I thought it would be fun to share my collected thoughts from the episodes on here as well.

My Thoughts on S1E2, "Metal Saw"

Seriously love the music in this show!

THE FREAKING BELT GRAB. You can tell they've done this kind of thing before.

I always love it when Jack and Mac have heart-to-hearts in the middle of super intense, dangerous situations. Like... it's sweet, but time and place, guys?

"Hi, I'm Jack." Nervous Jack is bebby.

Ew, sweat. Like, I know it's "realism" to have sweat stains on clothes in situations like these, but that's one bit of realism I can always do without. Gross.

Is that a bit of PTSD I'm seeing with Mac there on the couch? That's a kind of realism I can always get behind.

Riley finding Mac and Boze in that compromising position will never not be funny. "But he was on top." I love Riley more every episode.

Riley is a really good liar from day one.

I love the joke about ex-cons benefiting from being in relationships with stable people (i.e., fake boyfriend Bozer), then the immediate cut to Bozer with his whole arm inside the vending machine. Great stuff.

Love the Riley and Bozer bonding... right up until the cringe-tastic "Slide me your digits."

"Soon, I'm gonna woo you the same way Romeo would have wooed Juliet if they had Snapchat back in the Renaissance." Bozer and his surprisingly accurate pickup lines. The Renaissance did in fact start in Italy around the 14th century, when R&J is thought to take place.

I love all this psychoanalyzing of Mac. "Adapting is his survival mechanism." Also I'm living for Jack sticking up for Mac to Patti.

"This place has been searched by everybody and their dog." Is this a Texas thing or an old guy saying? Either way it's great.

Nothing beats the early days of Mac and Jack. Nothing. I wish we had gotten more interactions where Jack has to parent Mac: "Stop touching that. Look at me." ❤️❤️❤️

Jack so concerned about Mac and putting on the kid gloves = everything I could have ever asked for and more.

Jack has such a big heart. Poor guy, the look on his face when he sees that the reporter is actually Sarah...

Paperclip sculptures: When I first started watching the show, I thought they were lame. Now I miss them so much. Does that mean I've gotten lamer or that they were always cool and I was always lame?

"Closest time I ever came to coming home in a box." Oof. This line hits different now, and not in a good way.

I just love how Jack is this big tough ex-Delta who is so open about his emotions, particularly with Mac. And the way Mac reassures him... Their bromance is top-tier.

"Oh, like when they invented fire!" Another zinger.

Mac grabbing that giant cigar right out of that dude's mouth 😂😂😂

Love some good fight-scene Mac whump! 👏👏👏 And bar fights are always a blast!

Riley with the car door - such a boss. "What? You told me to stay in the car, and I did."

I've seen some people say they don't like S1 Mac's hair. I kind of dig it, to be honest. He looks like he's 5, but I love it.

Mac has made a lot of DIY cutting torches in his time, but they never get less impressive.

Jack trusting Mac to save Sarah while he keeps watch is just *chef's kiss*!

These early episodes have so many MacGyverisms. One right after the other. It's awesome.

I've never been a big fan of the dark either, Mac.

The first scene with Mac and Sarah is so beautifully tense and whumpy (he way he scrabbles for purchase, gasps for breath, that hitch in his voice as he tries to squeak out Jack's name) that I had to rewind and watch it again.

The hopeful disbelief in her voice: "Jack Dalton came for me?"

Sarah can kick some serious ass. I can see why Jack likes her. Too bad she's about to lead him on the rest of the episode, while actually having a fiance...

Sarah: *leans out of car, shooting her weapon with deadly, terrifying precision* Riley: I agree, this woman should not have kids. 😂 Everything that comes out of Riley's mouth is gold.

Riley asleep in the back of the car while Mac sits quietly and Jack and Sarah have a sweet moment is like mom and dad with the kids in the backseat. Except mom has a fiance and hasn't told dad yet, even though she's had ample opportunity.

Because seriously, Sarah. It's not that hard to tell him the truth. Giving him those big eyes and flirting with him, thinking he has a chance is just cruel. I have never liked her character, and this is why.

Mac and Jack giggling about Jack's crush on Sarah like middle-school girls is life.

"You're just gonna have to let that go." Man, I love their relationship.

Gosh, the scene where they find Luis always hurts so badly. These early episodes did not play around.

"There isn't always time to beg some suit back home for permission to do what's right." I'm not a fan of Sarah, but I love this line. Also, this is pretty much the synopsis of the whole show.

Riley's hair used to be so LONG! 😍

The loyalty of these three! And I love the OG trio so much.

This sleazy guy in the computer place makes my skin crawl.

Love how Patti's like, "Mac will be back by then." Not Jack, not Riley. Just Mac. Can we say teacher's pet? I actually lowkey love this though.

"Who is this guy?" Much like Doctor Who's "It's bigger on the inside," I never get tired of people being equally amazed and confused at the stuff Mac can do.

I've never been the biggest car chase junkie, but Barrios jumping over the car using that log in the road is pretty dope.

Sarah's rage is chilling. And Jack talking her down breaks me every time.

Again, I love the loyalty of our team. Everyone sticks up for each other, ending with Mac's totally unbelievable but still somehow 100% genuine "It was me. I forced them." TOO good.

First mention of Oversight this early. Just thinking about who it is that doesn't like unsanctioned ops just makes me 😤 I wonder if the writers knew who OS was at this point or if it was a later development.

I do wish we could have gotten more conspiratorial, approving Patti. She's so much better than expressionless, bland Patti.

The way Sarah never told Jack about her fiance Jeff (who is in fact a cinnamon roll but still a discount Jack) pisses me off. "I tried to tell you." Yeah, right. It's not that hard to say, "Yo, I'm in a relationship."

Jack NEVER should have found out about Jeff the way he did. There's no excuse.

It's not okay, Jack. She did you wrong. You didn't deserve that. Stand up for yourself, man. Gosh, he's so broken here, and I hate it.

"At least we have each other... Don't look at me. I know how weird it sounded." THESE TWO I SWEAR 🤣🤣🤣

Poor Mac. I do love how we get his obsessive tendencies so early in the show, and how they keep coming back, even as late as season 5. As someone with clinically diagnosed OCD, this makes me feel seen and I love being able to relate to my favorite character.

Love the found family antics at the end. Riley and Bozer making dinner while Mac and Jack play basketball? Perfection.

Lol, Bozer calling Riley a "caramel goddess" has such Schmidt/Cece vibes from New Girl, and I dig it!

Ew. More sweat. I know some people find sweaty men attractive, but that is NOT my vibe. I prefer my men clean and freshly laundered.

The way Riley glances back over her shoulder at them as she walks away, as if to make sure they're really there, that this is actually real!!!

"That's not even... that's true, actually. That's sad." Jack 🤣 Also, "I'm hungry." Big mood.

As a Grandpa Harry stan from the OG show, I eat up any mention of him in the new one. I just wish we'd gotten more of that wonderful man in the reboot. Still, I'll take what I can get!

I'd honestly forgotten how much I enjoy this episode! So solid, full of bromance, found family, and lots of good-natured bickering. Can't wait to watch the next one, hopefully tomorrow! In the meantime, please keep fighting for our show! Together we can #savemacgyver!

If anyone wants to join me in my re-watching and tweeting adventure, please do! It's my way to take about an hour a day in my busy, busy life to commit to the #savemacgyver movement. (And to enjoy my favorite show yet again!) If you do tweet as you watch, make sure to tag EVERY tweet with ONLY #savemacgyver so we can keep that hashtag trending! :)

Thanks for letting me share my (numerous) thoughts on this episode. This was really fun, and I hope it's something you all enjoy, too. I'd love to know what you all think of the episode in the comments! ❤️

#macgyver #jack dalton #riley davis #wilt bozer #macgyver rewatch #my thoughts #episode review #save macgyver #we can still save our show #s1e2 #metal saw #emcatreviews #spoilers

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intheseautumnhands · 3 years

Text

More Sorting Hat Chats

All right, I have had Daughter stuck in my head all day, and I want to talk about Abigail Hobbs.

(I basically always want to talk about Abigail Hobbs, she is my favorite television character and would make a good running for my singular favorite character ever if I could ever pick one. If you are considering if this is an invitation, please take it as one. But, I digress.)

As I can tell, there’s been discussion of Will and Hannibal’s sortings, and nobody else in the show. I’d love to dig in and do the whole rest of the show, but I don’t feel like I’ve rewatched recently enough to do everybody. I can always talk about Abigail, though!

As I continue to be exceedingly wordy as I do these things (whoops. I tried...), under a cut it goes again.

Let’s start on the Primary. We know pretty clearly that a lot of what Abigail has done has been focused on survival above all. We know for a fact that her darkest actions were: we see her kill Boyle in self-defense, and when she’s discussing helping her father, she says outright, “I knew it was them or me.” That... doesn’t actually help narrow it down, of course, because none of the houses have a claim on survival, and you could come at that feeling from any start point. But what it points to for me is that whatever her Primary is, it’s Burnt, and probably pretty badly. She hasn’t had the ability to come at decisions from a standpoint of what’s right, or what’s good for anyone else, or hell, even what’s good for her -- it’s all about what will get me through this alive.

When she does talk about what she’s done, it all feels very instinctive: “I’m a monster.” “Some places are stained now. Some people too. I know I am.” Even this: “I thought there was something wrong with me because I didn’t feel ugly when I killed Nick Boyle. I felt good. That’s why it was so easy to lie about it.” There doesn’t seem to be any weighing or rationalizing behind it, and every time she does try to come off as doing things from a rational place, it feels extremely put on -- that first scene after she wakes up, when she talks to Alana, for example, and Alana immediately sees through her.

So, not a Bird. She could be a Lion, instinctively knowing that what she’s done for her own safety is wrong and trying to fight that feelings -- it would fit with her judgements of herself, and with how she talks to Will about killing, trying to find someone else to rationalize it for her. But: I’m going to argue that’s she’s an extremely Burned Badger Primary.

First: why Badger, not Snake, when she’s shut herself down until she’s the only person she’s looking out for and that’s basically the original definition of a Petrified Snake? Because Abigail isn’t shutting herself off from connections in general. As soon as Hannibal reaches out, Abigail doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t try to back away from that connection; she leans into it, tells him about her nightmares and trusts him when he asks her. She pushes Will away -- until she’s reassured that he’ll accept enough of what she’s done that she doesn’t have to, and then she’s so quick to accept him and talk to him about it that she almost reveals her other secret in the very next conversation we see them have. She even opens up a little to Freddie, despite the fact that she has to know that’s a bad idea.

That conversation is also one of the reasons I’m going to call Badger, not Lion -- specifically, her view on Nick Boyle sounds so hard like either depersonalizing him to make herself feel better, or trying and failing to depersonalize him to make herself feel better. “I blame Nick Boyle for Nick Boyle’s death. He killed Marissa, he got what was coming to him.” We the audience already know this isn’t true to some extent -- we’ve seen Boyle crop up in Abigail’s dream, among the girls she clearly still feels guilty about, but it doesn’t feel like something she’s saying entirely for Freddie’s benefit either. It’s so emphatic, and it’s not a lie that will necessarily make her look better -- it makes so much more sense if it’s what she wants to believe.

And then Freddie blows it up, reframes it all and makes the guilt flood back in. And it could be either Lion or Badger -- he’s no longer such a bad guy, so having killed him is no longer something she can even try to frame as okay. But, even if Boyle wasn’t a killer, it was still self-defense. Reframing who he was doesn’t necessarily reframe what happened, and the fact that it still changes her feelings on it so thoroughly is part of what makes me go to Badger instead.

She doesn’t react to Hannibal the way I imagine a Lion with all that guilt would, either. Even after she knows for certain that he’s a killer, in the 3x09 flashbacks -- even when she’s outright saying that she’s not sure it’s smart to trust or accept him, she’s not really that guarded with him. If she’s a Lion, her talk with Freddie about Boyle and her guilt for the part she played under duress in her father’s killings speaks to some pretty intense gut feelings about killing and people who have done it. I see absolutely none of that in how she talks to Hannibal immediately after he confesses to killing more people than her father.

(There is some debate about how accurate the 3x09 flashbacks are, I believe, whether they’re closer to Will’s hallucinations of Abigail than actual memories; I do think some of the details may be embellished or changed by Hannibal’s memories, but I’m going to assume they’re more accurate than not to make this easier on myself.)

There’s also what she says in the therapy flashback, and yes, it’s clearly led and influence by Hannibal, but it still appears to be her words and her emotions:

He was as good to me as he knew how to be. Hunting with him was the best time I ever had.

And there’s the simple fact that this is the tact Hannibal takes with her, over and over, which I think can be read into. Hannibal is perceptive, very good at reading and manipulating people, and over and over again, when he wants a way to connect to or manipulate Abigail, he puts himself in a position where she can mentally link him with her father and her family. The tea and the dinner in 1x04, the dinner with Freddie and comforting Abigail in the kitchen in 1x09, “You accepted your father. Would it be so difficult to accept me?” -- it’s the tact he takes with Will too, to encourage his desire to bond with Abigail, pushing him to think of the three of them as family. It makes sense if it’s because he can feel both of them looking for that connection, and knows it’ll serve his desires and plans best if they find it with him and each other.

(I don’t want to go into this too long because I’ve already talked a lot, but there’s also something so fascinating about the idea of Abigail, whose trauma is about fathers and family and girls like her, whose downfall is in who she gives her trust to, being a Badger. And that’s not, y’know, a reason to sort her that way -- but it does add a really interesting layer to her if she is one.)

Okay. Let’s see if I can do the Secondary in under a thousand words this time.

Abigail is trying so hard to perform Snake, or maybe a really fast Bird. She’s trying to manipulate, to show everything what they need to see to want to protect or help her, to have a plan, to be one step ahead of everybody else.

And she’s really, really bad at it. Because Abigail has a loud, screaming Lion Secondary that hates every second of what she’s doing. All the decisions that give her any sense of control, all the decisions that seem to come from what she wants to do instead of what she thinks is best -- going back home to confront what happened, unburying Boyle, going back with Will again in 1x12, even, to some extent, agreeing to work with Freddie -- are impulsive, and involve facing the issues instead of trying to bury them. And the biggest one of all, the thing she does to feel like she has control, unburying Boyle -- it’s the worst possible thing she could do, to try and keep herself safe, but not having to wait for it to happen, to be able to confront it head-on, is the part that matters to her.

She’s just really bad at lying in general, too. Every time she’s around somebody she likes or who knows the smallest part of her secret, she says something that hints about what else is going on. Again, the first time we see her talk to Will alone after she’s stopped trying to push him away, she almost gives it all away: “I wish I had killed him. For killing my mom. For killing all those girls, for making me...” Then there’s what she says to Jack while standing over Nick Boyle’s body, her speech about how she survived -- she’s trying to dismiss suspicion, but she can’t help some honesty leaking out even though it does nothing to help her sound innocent. Alana pegs her as trying to manipulate people and trying to be too practical in their very first conversation, that one that seems so far removed from what she’s like in private, with people she does trust to any extent.

It’s also notable that even with all her manipulation and masks being so see-through to everyone around her, she still ends up with some of that reaction she’s looking for anyway, and not just in Will’s crusade to protect her -- Alana says she can’t help but care about her as well. (You could easily argue Freddie seems to have some extent of genuine feeling towards her as well, sympathy if nothing else, though that’s more debatable. Hannibal is entirely debatable as to whether he has genuine feelings for her or not, but if you view their relationship that way, there’s that as well.) Lion Secondary’s accidental inspiration maybe, twisted and warped by that manipulative performance and the situation altogether?

In conclusion: Badly Burnt Badger Primary / Lion Secondary (probably at least somewhat burnt, or at least repressed) with inexpert Snake and Bird Performances layered on top.

#sorting hat chats #sortinghatchats #abigail hobbs #one day i will work out how to do these in a reasonable length i'm sorry #it all feels important! to explain the thought process behind it!#but then they end up so very long

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ssa-daddyhotchner · 3 years

Text

Undercover - Chapter 15

Chapter Selection

"What do we got now Garcia", I took at seat between Hotch and Morgan.

"Okay today we have a case in one Reno, Nevada. This is Henry Baxter he was found yesterday by some hikers." We all look at the crime scene photo and Morgan speaks up.

"What makes the police think this isn't just a murder." Reid takes a closer look at the details and makes the connection to a previous case. Garcia starts to speak but he cuts her off.

"This looks like a case from 25 years ago. There were bodies of abusive fathers, this unsub was active from 84 to 89. After that he just disappeared." Rossi had a look of realization.

"I remember that case Gideon and I worked on it. We got close to catching him but there was never another body. The FBI called us back to Quantico."

"We'll talk more about it on the jet, let's go." Everyone stands up and go for their go bags. I get into the SUV with Hotch, we leave first before the team. The drive was quiet, we did talk about the notes coming to the our house and my ex. What we would do and if I'd tell the team if the problem escalated.

We got out the car and walked to the jet going inside. I take a seat in the back by the window, Hotch sitting next me. "Sooo", he turned his attention from the case file. "Can you talk to Rossi about that trip, we all need one", a smile tugging at his lips. "I'll talk to him", I let out a small 'yay'.

Aaron glanced out the window, he didn't see anyone. He leaned forward and pressed a gentile kiss on my lips. We didn't notice the already present, Spencer and Rossi standing the aisle. Aaron and I looked at them awkwardly. "I've seen you do worse no need to feel embarrassed." Spencer sat down and I felt my face getting red hot. Slightly remembering the night in the back of Spencer's car.

The rest of the team got there not long after, we waited till the last half hour of the flight to go over the case again. "Ok so first start with the dumping grounds. He displaying them, setting them in an upright position", Rossi finished speaking.

"The stabbing and slicing is the outlet for sexual release. People that use a knife usually more introverted." Morgan stated, Garcia went on the tv.

"Ok there was just another body found an hour ago, I just got wind of it. What do you guys need from me." Garcia finished then Hotch started. "Garcia I need you to look for men that are 50-60 that have lived in the Reno area since the 80's."

"Look for that and any men between the age range that went to prison, he stopped killing for 26 years that doesn't just happen." JJ said while flipping through the case file. "Garcia I think that enough for now."

Garcia ended the call and Hotch stood up, "Rossi and Morgan go to the most recent crime scene. Emily an Reid go to the victims house, talk tot he families. Y/n, JJ, and I will go to precinct to set up."

Hotch went to the back of the plane to get a cup of coffee. I put my hand o his arm and turn to him, "Did you talk to Rossi." He finishes pouring his cup. "Yes", I smile and walk away to talk me seat.

The plane lands JJ, Hotch, and I all go to the precinct.

_____________________________

The case took about a week to solve; the unsub was Matthew Ford. He was in prison for 27 years due to attempt murder. We were on our way back on the jet, I was to the right of Aaron. We were on crowded in the center of the jet.

Morgan was talking to Emily, JJ to Reid. Aaron was doing paperwork, his hand sitting on my thigh rubbing small circles. I had my eyes closed trying to get rid of my headache. Rossi was sitting in front of me.

Aaron took out his phone and texted Rossi. He read the text and stared at him. I shrugged and he began talking.

"Its come to my attention that when I mentioned the vacation all of you took me serious", we all said yes. "So you all want me to pay for it."

I looked at Rossi, "Yeah so were we going. I really need this, you'll be helping all of us out. We're so stressed." I was somewhat over exaggerating. But we all did the vacation and Rossi has the money to do it. Hotch started talking, "Dave if it makes you feel better we can you this as an excuse to 'team bond'."

Rossi glanced at all of us, "Fine but I choose where we're going." Yays were spread throughout the jet. I feel like I needed this the most. My mind was constantly on my ex, Hayley, combined with the stress of the job and what happened with Carmine I was feeling overwhelmed.

Some nights I'd wake up covered in sweat and other I wouldn't be able to sleep at all. It was all still happening and made me feel useless. From the looks of it Aaron didn't have any problems with it.

We got back to Quantico and Rossi had already made the plans and the location.

"We're gonna go to Honolulu, surprisingly I've never been there. We leave at 8am and yes I bought your tickets but I expect to be paid back." Rossi stepped into his office and closed the door. Morgan, JJ, and Emily all gathered their stuff and went home to pack. I sat at my desk waiting for Aaron to finish the files that remained on his desk.

My eyelids were starting to get droopy and I put my head down. "Why don't you go home and get some sleep", I picked up my head and saw Spencer sitting at his desk. "I would but Hotch drove me, I that you went home."

"Nope, when we left for the case there were some files that still needed to be done. You know I don't like to leave things unfinished." I smiled a bit putting my head back down.

"So, how are you and Hotch?" I didn't look at him. "Fine I just wish he'd hurry up!" I mumbled slightly yelling the last part. Spencer was still talking to me but everything started to fade away.

I woke up to someone shaking my shoulder. Rossi stood above me, "Hotch told me to wake you up he's almost done." I nodded still tired and couldn't make out words. He walked through the glass doors and went home.

I stood up and stretched walking into Hotchs office, "I'm almost down give me 5 minutes."

"Ok", I mumbled rubbing my eyes and laying down on the couch. I felt drained but this time I couldn't go back to sleep. "Annnd done, ok we can go." I stood up from the couch and held my hand out. He grabbed it and we walked to the car.

Aaron got into the drivers seat and started the car. II got in and put my hand on his thigh. He looked down at the gesture, "Thought I was supposed to d that to you."

I giggled, "Deal with it." I squeezed his thigh and he was stifling a laugh.

When we got home I was somewhat awake and dropped all of my stuff off at the door dragging my way through the house and to the bed. I slummed down, not bothering to change my clothes, I still had to pack.

Aaron wrapped his arms around me and we drifted off.

_____________________

Aaron packed my things for me and we rushed out the door. We almost overslept and we sped to the airport. We made right before they closed the gate on us, Rossi had bought everyone first class tickets and we sat down. "What the hell took you so long", Emily looked back at us. I glanced at Aaron, "I overslept and Hotch had to bring Jack to Jessica's.

She turned back around and put on her head phones. Reid sat in the middle row reading a book, JJ and Morgan were talking a few rows ahead.

The flight was around 13 hours and they were spent looking out the window and reading. We got there around 9pm and went straight to the hotel. Rossi got everyone a separate room except for me and Hotch.

"Ok in the morning I wanna go to the beach. I need back my tan, can't get that in Virginia." Aaron chuckled in my ear as we were about to go to bed. "Ok sounds like a plan."

"Night."

"Night princess."

______________________

I woke up to a call, I didn't wake up and instead Aaron answered. It was Spencer, "Hey are you gonna come down or do I have to get you." Aaron didn't answer instead he hummed. "Okay fine sleep in", he hung up the phone.

Aaron nestled his face on my back and mumbled, "We gonna get up." I hummed in agreement. "Come on its 10:30am." That made me shoot my eyes open, I turned to look at him. "Alright come on."

We got changed putting on my black two piece, got some towels and snacks and headed for the beach. When we got there, the sun was blazing ahead. There were people lining the beach with umbrellas and food.

Aaron called the team while I took off towards the water, "Hey I finally got up. I met y/n at the beach. Are you guys coming?"

"Yeah we'll be there." Emily hung up the phone and she told everyone else to go to the beach. I was looking back at Aaron while he sat there looking slightly awkward. I dipped my whole body in the water getting my hair wet.

I walked out of the water and over to Aaron. I reached my hand out, "Do I have to beg you." A smirk formed on his lips, "Yeah you know what that'd be nice." I bent over and grabbed his hand pulling him up to me. "You're gonna go in the water. If you like it or not."

He moved his mouth to my ear, "You gonna make me." My breathing hitched, I looked over Hotchs shoulder and saw the team. "I could but that would mean I wouldn't be able to see this." The whole team rushed up behind his and started pushing his into the water dipping his head under.

When he came back up his hair was sticking to his forehead a bit. His body more specifically his chest was glistening in the sun from the water. He looked hot as hell. I just wanted to jump on him right there.

"Emily come here!", Morgan called out putting her on his shoulders. "Let go, come on y/n you think you can take this." I looked at the sight ahead of me and I started to laugh. "Yes I think I can take that." I brought Aaron over to me getting on his shoulders. His hands squeezing my thighs keeping me on.

The guys practically charged at each other. My arms going out and almost knocking them down. Emily dipped to the side blocking the shove. I came back strong no pushing her off but made her back up enough so she fell of herself.

Her body crashing into the water and Aaron and I brought our hands to the air and getting a well deserved high five. "Aww there always next time Derek." I was laughing; I was still on Aaron shoulders we didn't even notice we were still holding on to each other till Spence pointed it out.

He swam over to us, "Y/n just staying you might wanna get down cause there starting to look at you." My eyes went wide and I hopped off. I dragged Aaron under the water will me placing a kiss on his lips before we went back up for air.

There were two people I still hadn't seen. JJ and Rossi were staying on the beach under the umbrella they had brought.

We were at the beach for about 4 hours. "I'm going to head back; you guys be free to do what you want." Dave called out walking away. "You guys wanna grab drinks", JJ, Emily and Spencer all raised there hands. They stood there staring at Aaron and I.

Don't look at me like that, last time I got drunk the day was like hell. I'm willing but only tomorrow not tonight I wanna at last enjoys a few days." They nodded looking at Aaron.

"I think I just grab some food and go tot sleep; maybe talk to Jack a bit." They understood and walked away. As we were walking to the street and to the hotel I spoke. "What are the plans for tonight cause I'm not letting you do that." I grabbed my hand and we headed for the hotel.

"Well I'm thinking that tonight we head out." He stopped talking and left it at that. "Annnd?" He shook his head, "It's a surprise."

"Ok fine hope it's worth it." When we got to the hotel my hair was dry but smelled like the ocean. I got undressed and hopped in the shower. Aaron followed after me; both of us washing off the salt water from our hair and bodies.

We got out and ordered some food Aaron went out to get it form the restaurant. He brought it back and we ate. He put on tv and I fell asleep from the day in the sun. I was curled up on the couch and Aaron carried me to the bed laying me down.

He covered me with the blanket. He set and alarm for 3am seeing as it was only 8pm when I fell asleep I'd get a decent amount of sleep. Aaron wasn't tired yet so he stayed on his phone scrolling through. He called Jack and he told him about his day at school and about the homework he had to do.

_____________________________

I woke up and it was 12:30am I turned off the alarm I know that he set. I sat up against the headboard with me head in my hands slowly waking up. I felt a hand creep up my hand, I glanced over and I felt Aaron start stir. "You up?", he mumbled something but I couldn't hear him.

"What was that?", I was smiling to my self. "I said yea baby. Can you get dressed so we can go." I nodded even though he couldn't see it. Getting up I put on a pair was sweatpants and a white crop with flip flops. Aaron stood and threw on some clothes and we left.

Aaron still didn't tell me where we were going so I followed next to him. After about an hour of walking I finally gave in, "Ok where the hell are we going." I said through an annoyed laugh.

"Alright close your eyes", I covered my eyes and reached out for his hand so I knew where to go. We walked for a about 10 more minutes. I heard a gentile fall and stream of water. It was running down on what seemed like the rocks and grass below.

The air started to smell damp and I heard the crushing of water rushing. I had a feeling of where he brought me. I had mentioned it to him a few moths ago.

"Open them." I uncovered my face and I was right. There was waterfall right in front of me. It was running off of a cliff at least 100ft high. There was pool at the bottom where the water crowded and flowed to different streams. The moon reflecting off of the crystal blue water.

I looked up and the full moon was shining brightly. I lit up everything below, the stars danced in the sky along side it. "How'd I do", He said gazing do at me. When I turned to look at him the moon was shining in his eyes at the right angle making them look like pool of honey.

"Honey you did great", I was smiling through my teeth as I swung my arms around his neck.

"You know what we have to do now right", I knew what he was thinking. "Okay maybe not all that, I know what you wanna do and you're a hell of a lot more confident that I am in that aspect. I'm not doing it."

"Awe come on it'll be great and you know it." He started undressing and stepping into the water.

"Come on it'll be quick", I nodded he grinned sitting on the edge waiting for me to get in more. As he fully submerged he pulled me onto his lap. I was giggling till he pressed our lips together; his hand going directly on my hips.

My hands snaked up his chest to the back off neck. The warm water around us, waving around; set us in the mood even more. He started to move the hands that were on my hip and slowly grinded me on his growing bulge.

He moved his hands and pulled off my underwear and threw them out the water. I moved his boxers down; he rose to pull his cock our. It stood up, my pussy going around it still grinding. "Stop teasing me little girl." He lifted my up and put his tip in my pussy letting me adjust.

I started to bounce up and down on his cock. I held on to his broad shoulders keeping my balance. "God damn y/n", he groaned out. My edge slowly approaching. I clenched around him making him feel every inch of his thrusts.

My breathing started to falter, "Aar-." I was growing tired of bouncing and Aaron hands returned to my hips assisting me. He lifted me up before slamming me down on his dick. He hit my g spot repeatedly. I took his hand off my hip and brought it to my clit.

I was full of pleasure and the look of us in the blue water, the mist from the waterfall, and the way the moon was reflecting of him made him look like and actual fucking god.

I moved my hands from his shoulders to his neck and into his hair. Grabbing tightly on his hair and pulling his head back to look up at me. I smile formed on his face. I dipped my head down and littered his neck with kisses.

Forming small hickys along his jaw. “Fuck y/n”, he groaned out getting closer to his orgasm.

I could feel him twitching inside me, "Cum for me." I released around his and I could feel him fill me up. We stayed there catching our breath, "We should probably move before someone sees us." He laughed into my neck and pulled out.

It was 5am, "We should head back." we got out of the poll of water and grabbed our clothes; we headed back to the hotel.

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