#category: episode summaries

[miraculouscontent]

Oh God, I just thought of the possibility of love square stans trying to say, “Marinette couldn’t have been in love with Luka because she’s not showing trauma signs!” and them genuinely thinking that this is an okay argument without any sense of awareness as to how that sounds.

#category: salt #salt: fandom #other: ml spoilers #other: ml leaks #other: MLS5bible #((Although technically speaking)) #((if Marinette's stammering is her trauma sign then she DID show those with Luka when they first met)) #((but then he played her song which totally vibe'd her out and her next sentence was completely coherent.)) #((If she never stammered at all as well I suppose you could make the argument that Luka has no connection to Chloe)) #((which essentially ''breaks'' any hold said trauma has on her.)) #((Make of that what you will but regardless--)) #((the idea of using ''trauma signs'' to indicate whether Marinette was ''truly in love'' with someone is...)) #((I don't know but I don't wanna think about it.)) #((Because of the show's inane airing order I'm sure they expect people to completely miss)) #((that the episode where they send Luka away (I presume; not exactly subtle that the only episode summary that mentions him is 'Migration') #((is literally right before the episode where they're going to bring up Marinette's trauma.))

[darklordofthesimp]

Anything II (König x Reader)

The 2nd instalment in the Anything-Verse

Main Masterlist

Part 1 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

Like the characters? Read their fics below!

Sunshine Masterlist || Saint Masterlist

Series Summary:  A lack of information from the chain of command results in König mistaking you for an enemy sniper.

A/N: As requested by literally fucking everyone.

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort || Forced Proximity || Enemies to ?

Warnings: Graphic language || graphic description of PTSD episode || graphic description of unintentional self-inflicted injury

You had thrown up. Twice.

Pressure snaked its way from your chest to your throat and nausea gripped your stomach. You felt deeply unsettled. Your fingers shook, your face was gaunt- you hadn’t slept properly in days. You were a mess.

All because of him.

You cussed beneath your breath, bouncing on your toes lightly. You were due for another training session and considering you’d bailed on the last one, you couldn’t afford to skip it again. You’d received an earful from Price for walking out after your conversation with König.

That fucker had reported back to the Captain that you’d simply ‘discussed the terms of the agreement.’

You slapped your thighs. Then, you hit them harder. The sharp pain jolted your system, and you used the distraction to force yourself out the door. The more you dwelled on it, the more you needed to vomit again.

This time, König was waiting for you.

He sat on the bench, legs spread and his head down. He was fidgeting with his gloves and, had you not known any better, you’d have thought that maybe you’d snuck up on him. But you did know better. König was aware of your presence the second you entered the hallway.  

You sucked in a breath as he finally looked up, pretending that he’d only just noticed you. His features were obscured by his hood, giving you no indication of his reaction. He felt inhuman, there was no tug of his lips or twitch in his cheek- only an emerald gaze that stripped you of your courage. 

“Birdy,” König tipped his head in greeting, your name soft on his lips. Your chest tightened at the sound of his voice. You hated when he spoke like that, low and from his chest. You wished he would yell, you wished he would be boisterous— anything to drown his promises of death in your ear. 

“Your fight is finished.” 

You didn’t acknowledge him. You didn’t say his name. Instead, you slowly entered the room and moved to the farthest side from him. Your heart beat wildly against your ribs and the nausea you’d felt earlier was back in full swing. 

“The sooner we start, the sooner you can leave,” König reminded you, flicking his gaze across your attire. 

“Then start,” you snapped. The man blinked at your aggression and his fidgeting fingers fell still. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. That emerald gaze was pinned to your figure, steady and inquisitive and terrifying. He straightened up from where he was slouched over, his seated form already taller than you standing. 

“What can I do to make you more comfortable with this arrangement?” König spoke slowly, each word enunciated with careful control over his tone. Your heart dropped to your stomach, he was getting frustrated. 

You wanted to spit at him that the only way you’d ever be comfortable was if he were to leave. You wanted to shout at him to fuck right off back to KorTac and never show his face again; that’s what would ease your mind. 

But, as he held his body deathly still, that stare trained on yours- you reminded yourself of what he was capable of. 

“The mask,” you whispered, cursing yourself for the way your voice shook. 

König finally moved, leaning back into the bench as he took in a long breath. He waited for you to continue, to pitch your proposition, but your mouth had gone dry and your tongue had fallen limp. When he realized that you weren’t going to offer anything more, he nodded his head, clasping his hands together tightly. 

“You want me to…” König bounced his leg, clearing his throat as he sat up straight. “You want me to take it off?” 

You nodded your head. König said nothing. The sinking feeling that he just might reject your request began to worry you. He could say no and there would be nothing you could do to argue that, you were still required by order to do these training sessions regardless of whether he agreed to your requests or not. 

You swallowed thickly, scrubbing your nose to break the eye contact between you both. You couldn't stand it. 

"I can't do this if you're wearing that thing," you waved vaguely at his face, keeping your eyes low. "It- I just-" 

Frustration burned in your chest as you flailed to articulate your feelings. You couldn't tell him outright that his stupid fucking mask plagued your dreams every night. You couldn't tell him about the terror that gripped you by the throat whenever you laid eyes on it. 

König didn't let you finish, anyway. He reached for his hood, swiftly pulling it from his head and, again, you were thrown off kilter by his appearance. 

His brows were furrowed as he observed you from beneath his lashes. "I know." 

He knew what you were trying to say. 

"Shall we start?" He asked, slowly standing to his feet. And, despite it being painfully obvious that he was keeping his body language open, you still took an inadvertent step back. You cursed beneath your breath when he straightened up to his full height, the urge to run from the room was almost overwhelming. König triggered your fight or flight response and your body was a slave to its survival instincts. 

You sucked in a breath, forcing yourself to stay still as he approached. 

"What are we doing?" You forced the question from your throat, trying to distract yourself from the hulking figure moving closer. 

"Ground defence." 

Your heart seized in your chest. 

"I don't want to do this," you said as calmly as you could. Your pulse climbed rapidly as König's gaze softened. 

"I know," he murmured. "But neither of us has a choice." 

You didn't give a fuck about him or his choices. You couldn't care less whether he was here of his own volition or if he'd been ordered to take care of your training; you only cared about the fact that he was twice your size and had nearly murdered you once before. 

You couldn't believe that Price was allowing this. 

Betrayal stung in your chest. 

Actually, what you really couldn't believe was how this cunt was even allowed to be here. 

Clearly, you were dispensable. 

Maybe you had overestimated your importance to the team, maybe you had misunderstood the bond between you all. You'd been replaced by your own aggressor and Price had allowed it. 

Clearly, you hadn't meant as much as you thought to the 141.

“Birdy.” 

You jumped, tripping backward into the bench behind you. You stared wide-eyed at König who was equally as startled by your reaction. 

“What?”You snapped, straightening up as though nothing had happened, as though he hadn’t almost frightened you out of your skin. 

He hesitated before continuing, the side eye he shot you was clearly one of concern. Disgusting. “I need you to lie on your stomach.” 

“No.” The word fell from your mouth before you’d even realized it. 

König raised a single brow. “You want this to happen again?” 

He gestured at your swollen cheeks, the fresh scarring from your stitches that littered your face. The man referenced you like an artist would show off their masterpiece. 

“Only to you,” you said, your voice sickly sweet as you forced a bitter smile to your lips. The fluid in your cheeks felt like liquid fire beneath your skin at the movement, but the way his expression fell made the pain worth it. 

“Then get on the floor so I can teach you how,” König crossed his arms, carefully schooling his features to give away nothing- but it was too late. You saw that you’d hurt him with the comment, or at least affected him enough to feel satisfied. 

Your small victory gave you enough courage to lie down. 

Your logic reminded you to immediately regret it. 

Konig’s knee came into your vision as he knelt by your prone body. You couldn’t see his upper body, you couldn’t see where his hands were. He made no noise to indicate what he was going to do and your spine seized along our back.

You didn’t want to do this. 

Not again. 

“König,” you rasped, pressing your hands into the floor. “König, I don’t want to do this.” 

Your breath was too fast, you felt like you were channelling air in through your mouth just to be sent right back out. It was as though you were rapidly suffocating, not getting any oxygen to fill your lungs, the room spinning from where you lay. 

“Birdy, you need this,” König reminded you from above. The words sounded distant and muffled like someone had placed their hands over your ears and spoken softly.

You gasped loudly as the man behind you straddled your back, the mass of his body resting against the lower half of your extremely fragile spine. You wanted to buck and kick and scream until he was forced off of you but your mouth was dry and words evaded you. 

“I want to teach you how to spin onto your back first,” König said, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. “You can’t win from your stomach.” 

You couldn’t win on your back either. 

“No,” you said firmly, twisting experimentally from beneath him. “No, get off. I’m not doing this.” 

There was a sharp sigh from behind you and instead of moving from his position, König began applying pressure. Your chest sunk into the ground as he leant just a fraction of his weight onto your body. 

“Then get me off.” 

The floor was hard against your body, it felt like your ribs were collapsing from beneath you. You could barely breathe as it was and now you were gasping like a fish out of water. There were so many things he could do to you from this position, so many ways he could torture you and you wouldn’t be able to defend yourself.

You tried to press upwards with your hands in an attempt to relieve the pressure from your chest. It was fruitless considering the 130 kilograms of muscle pressing your face into the floor, but you tried again. Then again. 

You were beginning to sweat, your palms slipping on the floor. Your arms shook from the exertion and you could feel your resolve slipping, your control spiralling from your grasp. 

“Get the fuck off me,” you wheezed, that same ugly pressure clawing its way up your ribs and into your throat. “König, I’m serious. Get off.” 

“Listen to me and I’ll teach you how to get out of this yourself,” König’s voice was firm. There was no room to argue, the bite in his tone enough to put the fear of God into you.  “Pull your knee up beside you, slide forward to get up onto your knees and roll me off to the side.” 

You followed his instruction, forcing yourself to breathe as evenly as you could. Your skin burned where he touched, your body screaming at his presence atop of you. 

Get him off, off, off. 

The weight of his body eased as he let you perform the maneuver. He was too heavy and you were too tired to pull that move off without his help, but you didn’t care anymore. You’d do anything for him to get the fuck away from you, you’d do anything for him to never touch you again. 

Konig rested his weight back down, straddling your hips as you lay on your back now, facing upward. 

The exact same position of that night. 

Your breathing picked up and your hands began to tremble. The sensation of excess adrenaline flooding your body, a feeling that you were familiar with, rendering you shaking but incapacitated. 

The hood was on his face again and his eyes were wild and manic. You’d never seen that look in a mans eyes before, you knew then that he was going to kill you. The emerald glint of his psychotic glare was all that you could see. It was so dark and he was so fast, you weren’t able to predict his moves because you couldn’t fucking see them. He was a shadow, he was death incarnate. Your body was on fire, your lungs screaming from within your chest. 

The monster’s eyes drifted to your chest and you followed his gaze. The handle of a knife jutted from above your breast bone and you snap your eyes back to his. Blood sprayed in the space between the both of you as he twisted the knife in your chest. You’d forgotten the noise that it had made, your punctured lung sucking air from the bloody wound with a wet gasp. 

König’s eyes were hard as he reached for your face, fingers outstretched and closing in across your vision. 

Not again. 

Not again. 

“Birdy!” 

You bucked, you heaved, you fought off his grip. You knew what was going to happen, you knew what came next. This time, your brain matter would be smeared across the floor, this time he would finish you off. 

You clawed at the fingers wrapped across your face desperately, trying to draw enough blood for him to flinch away. You ripped at his skin as hard as you could manage, screaming against his palm. 

“Birdy, stop!” 

Nothing was working, nothing could stop him. You dragged your nails across his fingers, driving them into the divots of his cuticles in an attempt to deglove his skin from bone. 

“Jesus Christ, get a fucking sedative!” 

When König smashed your head into the concrete, you were grateful for the darkness that ensued. 

You didn’t have that privilege last time. 

____

The first sense you regained was smell. 

And, by God, did you fucking hate that smell. 

The scent of disinfectant flooded your olfactory system so viciously that you were forced up in your seat. You scrubbed at your eyes desperately, praying to whoever the fuck was listening that you weren’t where you thought you were. 

White lights flooded your vision and you cringed back into the cushions, pressing your palms into your eyes. 

“Easy, Birdy. Easy.” 

That familiar cockney accent served as a warning. Gloved hands tugged your fists down from your face and you tried to regain control of your breathing, eyes squeezed shut.

“Ghost?” You rasped. Your voice was barely a squeak, and you realized with a frown that you’d lost it somehow. 

“Thought I’d come pay you a visit.” 

You slowly attempted to regain your sight, blinking away the blurriness and the harshness of the down lights. You gingerly observed your surroundings, heart sinking to your stomach as you recognised the room. 

You’d been on this bed for weeks during your recovery from the incident. 

Same hospital, same room, same bed. 

You felt nauseas. 

Swallowing the bile threatening to make an appearance, you dragged your gaze to the seat by your bed. Ghost sat so still you could have mistaken him for a piece of furniture had you not been actively looking for him. 

The man watched you carefully, his hoodie raised over his head and the balaclava perched firmly over the lower half of his features. 

“When did you get back?” You asked, cringing at the broken sound of your voice. Ghost exhaled through his nose and his eyes softened under your scrutiny, an expression you’d never seen before flickering across his gaze. You were disoriented, still unsure of how he had gotten there or what you were doing there. 

“Yesterday.” 

You froze, eyes widening as Ghost waited for you to come to the realization. 

“How long have I been in here?” You cried, the words gutted by your vocal fatigue. “What the fuck happened?” 

“You need to take a breath,” Ghost leaned forward, his hand pressing lightly against your shoulder, prompting you to lay back into the cushions. 

“No, you need to tell me what happened, Simon,” you reinforced, throwing a hand to your chest. You pressed against the skin, as though you could force your lungs to slow down with just a touch. 

Ghost made a noise from the back of his throat, strangled and uncomfortable. You could tell that he hadn’t expected you to wake up while he was there. 

“You…” And for the first time in nearly a decade, you heard Simon Riley hesitate. 

Your mouth was dry as you realised the severity of what had happened, the anxiety of not knowing what you’d done ripping at your chest. Your eyes were pleading now, begging him to just come out with it, to tell you the truth. 

That stormy gaze was sympathetic. It made you tremble. 

“You had an incident, Birdy.” Ghost said slowly, deliberating over his words carefully. “An episode.” 

“An episode?” You questioned, narrowing your gaze. “The fuck do you mean an episode?” 

Ghost didn’t shift in his seat the way König did when under pressure, he didn’t fidget or bounce his leg. Simon Riley sat still like a cold-blooded creature, watching you from the darkest corner of the room with a cool, steady gaze. 

“PTSD, Birdy.”

You blinked slowly. 

“During your ‘training’ with that cunt,” Ghost spat the words, his eyes shifting to the side as he centred himself. “We heard your screaming as we were on the way back in.” 

“We?’ You rasped, dread settling in your stomach. 

“Me and Johnny,” Ghost clarified. He exhaled softly, shaking his head. “You had to be sedated, kid.” 

The skin on your cheek stung sharply before you could process that bombshell. You frowned, attempting to ignore it in favour of uncovering what had happened. Ghost was never one to beat around the bush, always outright and as ‘blunt as a cunt’, in Soap’s words. 

So, why was he now omitting a key part of the story? 

The skin beneath your eyes stung again, this time demanding your attention. You began to sweat at the sudden severity of the pain, hands flying to your face to diagnose the issue.

Ghost moved before you could blink, striking out like a cobra. His hands gripped your wrists, keeping them from scouring over the skin. Your eyes were wide as you appraised him, bent over your bed, your hands suspended in his grip between the both of you. 

Your eyes narrowed. He mimicked the expression. 

You shoved at his body, ripping your hands from his hold. You needed to get to a mirror. Throwing yourself off the side of the bed, you gasped as your knees buckled from their sudden use. Simon gripped your bicep, pulling you upright with ease, but you tugged against him immediately. 

“Don’t fucking touch me.” 

He retracted his hand as though he’d been burned. 

You stormed into the bathroom, the door smashing against the rubber stop glued to the wall. The lights flickered to life as you bashed the switch with the bottom of your closed fist. 

You could have thrown up. 

Gauze pads covered both your cheeks, stained pink from what you realized was blood. Your face was bleeding. A whimper fell from your lips as you reached for the dressing, peeling it slowly from your skin. Your mouth fell open at the slow reveal of what hid beneath the gauze. 

A strangled cry ripped from your throat. 

Claw marks. 

Jagged, deep wounds, tearing down the length of your face; raw, bleeding and fresh. 

You couldn’t breathe. 

Distantly, you could see Ghost standing behind you in the mirror, his gaze solemn and his hands clenched. You couldn’t ask the question, couldn’t form the words but you didn’t have to. Simon had understood you back when you were eating from a straw, your eyes so puffy you couldn’t open them for days. 

His hand came to rest on your shoulder, the only comfort he could offer as you stared at your mangled reflection, yet again. 

“You were screaming for him to get off,” Ghost began, his fingers tightening against your burning skin. “The fucker was standing next to me.” 

Blood dribbled down the distinct lines engraved into your flesh, tracing the length of your throat and disappearing down your hospital gown. The both of you watched it trail your prickled skin, but you couldn’t move, suspended in time and trapped with the image before you.

Simon’s voice was barely a whisper when he spoke.

“You thought his hands were on your face.”

_____

NEXT CHAPTER

____

Taglist:

@carnnieval @mmmothballz @corgideer @classickook @je-suis-argent-miel @actuallyanita @o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o @msecho19 @svnflowery @lenasvoid @teacupcollector @voxsdarling @qualityearthquakes @misshoneypaper @eldritch-bunny @vienettacream @untoldshortsofthefandoms @blue-heart-butterfly @deceiverofgods @brainstormbby @angsty-microwave @amatis-gray @xoneaboveallx @avengingwitcher @iwantmethgivememeth @kyojooto @sinnerburrito

Please tell me if you'd like to be added or taken off x

#König x reader #könig x y/n #könig #könig x you #könig call of duty #call of duty #cod #mw2 #könig imagine #konig x reader #konig call of duty #cod mw2 #call of duty mw2 #call of duty x reader

[randomishnickname]

Must-read Destiel fics - my superduper Nov. 5th rec list

Three years ago, on the blessed day of November 5th, 2020, I had:

never seen an episode of SPN,

only had a vague inkling of what the two pale coconuts were on about,

and I hee-heed and ha-had with the rest of Tumblr about the love confession scene and the Internet errupting in an unparalleled craze

At first I thought, that's it.

Then ... I got curious. I watched some YouTube Destiel supercuts. I read some fic (I think @andhumanslovedstories beautiful Cas/OC fic was my entry point?). I read meta. I watched some more YouTube scene packs. I read even more fic. I watched some of S4, some of S1, some random fan fav episodes. And then Destiel lodged itself so deeply, thouroughly into my brain that it took over and hasn't relinquished control in the last two years. The most tenacious, pervasive brain worm to date.

This ship got it all, and this fandom got it all, and there's such delightful, powerful, batshit crazy, romantic, expertedly crafted fanfic out there, it's like being a starving child in the world's biggest candystore.

So without further ado, here's some of my very favorite fics from this infinite trove, with all my thanks to the wonderful writers who keep delighting and awing me with their dedication and craft. There'll of course be some recency bias at play but you can browse my bookmarks over here to chose from over 100 excellent and well-curated SPN stories.

💕CATEGORY: SWOONWORTHY💕

Wildly romantic fics that warm you up from the inside.

It Won't Be Perfect by someonetoanyone (10K words) Summary: Dean daydreams about what it'd be like to let himself love Cas freely.

Why I love it: the humor, the spot-on characterizations, and the quintessential late season Destiel-ness of being so deeply love with your best friend that it's too big to actually do anything about. Just. So warm.

Rock Lobster by Ginger Fail (13K) Summary: Cas decides that the lobsters Dean planned to cook need to get back home. Impromptu beach vacation ensues!

Why I love it: This road trip story is fresh and invigorating like a sea breeze! Fun, entertaining and full of deep, deep fondness.

Seek to Know You Better by ahurston (32K)

Summary: On a road trip, Dean and Cas play the 36 Questions That Lead To Love.

Why I love it: They’re so deliberatedly, carefully starting a relationship here. They try so hard to bridge the gaps and meet each other halfway. A very mature take on love that feels nourishing.

☢️CATEGORY: BRAINWORMS GALORE☢️

Fics that make you go BARK BARK BARK.

samson went back to bed by piesexuality (9k, @twoheadedcas) Summary: Cas strikes a deal with Chuck - keeping his family together comes at the price of their free will.

Why I love it: What if Cas got his revenge for the Mala'ak box? What if love came at the price of everything you've been fighting for? What if a story twisted the knife oh so sweetly? Each word of this one lands a punch. Made me insane in the best of ways (cue pinned fanart).

In sickness by @saintedcastiel (41K) Summary: S4 redux but Castiel has a fetish: giving Dean the sniffles.

Why I love it: This one is soooo. Can barely find words for it. It taps into Cas' early season alienness and psychosexual obsession with Dean, brilliantly demonstrates Casdean vs Samruby parallels, and each word is just. Perfect. ARGH!

so much smoke in a hall full of mirrors by AreYouReady (6K, @autisticandroids ) Summary: Godstiel is losing his heavenly war. Crowley provides a compliant Dean-doll for him to release his frustrations upon.

Why I love it: Urgh, this one is sooo dark. Taps into the scary, intimidating and alien aspects of Godstiel so well. Gore, consent and psychosexual issues galore. Delicious.

Special mention: In a Parked Car, Exhuming Ophelia by @an-android-in-a-tutu (17K). Still need to comment properly ;)

💣CATEGORY: EMOTIONAL WRECKING BALLS💣

Angsty fics that tear you to pieces to remake you better.

What Used To Be Mine by someonetoanyone (48K words) Summary: Dean never makes his apology prayer in Purgatory - Cas dies, Dean mourns.

Why I love it: Oh god, this is a heavy hitter. Just, straight up insurmontable grief, packaged in poetic, raw language to make you shed tears and tears. Loved it so much.

Ignite your bones By ilovehowyouletmefall (67K, @angelinthefire) Summary: Dean accepts Chuck's deal: killing Sam to save the world.

Why I love it: Cruuuuel cruel premise for a story that doesn’t pull its punches. It gets dark in Dean’s head and everyone around him suffers. Wonderfully written. The ending set my brain on fire.

Right Where you Left Me by outdean (93K, @armandgender)

Summary: Cas comes back from the Empty after 10 years to find Dean married to another man.

Why I love it: This one is a riiiide. When grief has become a part of you but your love comes back… When you return from the dead and have to carve a new space into the world for yourself... nothing is easy here, but the emotions are INTENSE. Also, autistic!Cas for the win.

Special mention: Who Ya Gonna Call? by saintedcastiel (50K) and Clear skies in spring by enochianprayer (WIP)

💥CATEGORY: EPIC RIDES💥

Expansive, wild adventures with lots of ups and downs

Spirit of the West by teen_dean (140K, @urne-buriall)

Summary: An 18y old Dean grew up on a horse farm – cue veterinarian Castiel. The summer of a lifetime ensues.

Why I love it: So this is one of my very favorite stories, ever ever, and I cannot recommand enough to immediatedly suscribe to the author’s Substack to be able to follow it in „real time“ next summer. It’s cinematic, rich, full of darkness and light, it’s everything a story can aspire to, I’m just. I just really love it.

Second Verse, Same as The First by LaLaCat1 (135K)

Summary: Endverse!Cas is sent back to the start of S1 and is determined to make things right this time round.

Why I love it: a desperate and badass Cas, unfridging everyone, a thrilling plot, moments of awesome for the entire cast, gripping action scenes, a romance for the ages… this is a genuinely amazing story.

back road, black road by eden22 (167K)

Summary: 18y old Sam gets kidnapped by Hell on his way to Stanford. Dean tries to deal.

Why I love it: So this one’s not Destiel-centric but does have wonderful Destiel moments. It’s also very heavy on the gore and the angst (NOT for the faint of stomach), but expertly crafted, fascinating and frankly it deserves more love. Held my breath for half the read and never knew where it’d take me.

Special mention: It's The End Of The World (As We Know It) by tiamatv (140K)

🤪CATEGORY: DESTIEL INSANITY🤪

Uproariously funny stories about the intricate rituals these two weirdos get up too.

Life Skills by ilovehowyouletmefall (26K)

Summary: Dean teaches a newly human Cas how to be „a real man“.

Why I love it: Dean coming to Big Self-Realizations while trying to have platonic threesomes with Cas is so perfect. Very endearing, tender and funny. Also, smoking hot sex.

the cheapest room in the house by biggaybenny (89K)

Summary: Dean downloads Grindr for Cas

Why I love it: Just. Late season Dean being deranged about Cas’ sexuality while everyone watches on in utter confusion. Equally hilarious and deeply moving

according to all known laws of life by @sobsicles (29k)

Summary: Cas comes back from the Empty to a Dean who won’t stop playing gay chicken.

Why I love it: They are both such petty, insane weirdos in this one. They said „can every situation be turned into a squabble“ and didn’t wait for an answer. So funny, so tender

Special mention: Wedding Vows and Negotiations by GingerFail (6K)

That's it, enjoy and leave your writers some much-deserved love!

#destiel #fanfic rec #supernatural #spn #spn fic #deancas #nov 5th #destiel fanfic #dean x castiel #my posts #long post #it was so hard to choose TT_TT #this fandom is amazing

[deakyjoe]

Not A Place, But A Feeling

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader (fem, she/her)

Category: angst and maybe a little fluff idk

Summary: They say home is where the heart is. And your heart is with Joel Miller.

Warnings: 18+, age gap (reader is mid 20s and Joel is 56), a rewrite of episode 3 basically, kissing (!!), groping (!!), implied smut, mentions of death & suicide (Bill & Frank, Sarah), reader is Bill & Frank’s adopted/surrogate daughter, guilt, sadness, grief, loss/bereavement

Word count: 3.9k

A/N: In celebration of Pedro’s birthday, have something I’ve been working on for literal months <3

Consider buying me a coffee :)

Bill and Frank were dead.

Their corpses sat rotting away in their bedroom, the door locked shut, as Ellie read their goodbye letter, a note of upbeat confusion in her voice. You couldn't blame the kid, she'd never met either of them.

Joel stood next to you rigid, unsure what to do or say as he just listened to the final words spoken by two of the few people he'd chosen to trust in this world.

You, on the other hand, felt as if the universe was crashing down around you. All blood had escaped from your body, seemingly draining out from your feet, as your head floated around in a storm of lightness that threatened to knock you unconscious at any moment.

Bill and Frank had raised you, the former finding you abandoned as a toddler when the outbreak had started. You'd stayed shut away in their own private community for years, Tess and Joel being the first people you could remember meeting that hadn't been your surrogate parents. And when Frank had come up with the genius idea to dump you in their responsibility so you could socialise some more and see the real world, you'd been all too eager to sneak back into the QZ with them.

You were beginning to regret that enthusiasm.

"And take care of our girl for us, we know you will." The final words of the letter hung in the air for a moment as Ellie lowered the paper into her lap, eyes flicking between the two people stood in front of her.

Joel said nothing. And you ran.

The front door almost fell off its hinges with the force of you swinging it open to get to the front yard. Barren flowerbeds were quickly flooded with the contents of your stomach. You retched at the floor, nothing else coming up but the feeling of needing to vomit still strong.

They were dead. Dead. Gone. Forever. What were you supposed to do now?

Your legs trembled beneath you, struggling to keep your weight as every fibre of your being just wanted to give up and collapse into the ground. This wasn't supposed to happen.

Trying to shake the feeling off, you pushed yourself into an upright position and started walking. To where? You didn't know. But this is what you used to do when you needed time to think, time to clear your head, time to escape. You walked the town. You hadn't had that same ease in the QZ, it was nice to have it back now. Even in the worst scenario.

You couldn't dwell on this for too long. People died. Regularly in this world you lived in for that matter. It was an inevitability. The loss of Tess had been a warning sign of that only recently. You'd been taught not to grieve too much, you didn't have the time for it. And it wouldn't change anything.

But you still ached, feeling as if a part of you had been ripped away and stolen for eternity. So, you walked.

Joel had watched you leave out of the corner of his eye, not surprised by your reaction at all. It was a little understated if anything. The men who had raised you were dead. Nobody coped well with the loss of family, he knew that better than most.

"You should probably follow her." Ellie said, looking towards where you'd abruptly left the house.

"She'll be fine." He insisted, rolling his shoulders back and taking in the room around him. He'd have to figure out everything for himself now that Bill wasn't around to help. So he got started on that, distracting himself by creating a mental list of inventory the group of you would need for your journey. And all of it was bound to be lying around here somewhere.

Ellie could only watch as Joel ignored what he really should have been attending to and took to wandering around the house instead, staying careful to keep clear of the downstairs bedroom.

It took two hours for you to reappear in the house again, acting as if nothing had happened.

You strolled in to find Ellie rummaging through a dusty old box with your name plastered on the side of it in block capitals, the black ink slightly smudged.

"Hi."

Her head snapped up to meet your eyes. "Oh, hi. I found this."

You shrugged. "My music collection, right?"

She visibly relaxed and smiled. "Yeah." Ellie wasn't a shy kid by any means and she certainly didn't have any trouble with her confidence or prying, but she liked you and didn't want to overstep since you'd been nothing but nice to her since you'd met.

You nodded. "I think I've got an old Discman around here somewhere if you want to take some of it on the road with you."

Before she had a chance to respond Joel stomped back into the room, gaze landing on you. He didn't say anything but his expression was questioning. You just gave a short nod which was enough for him.

"Take a shower and I can find some clothes for you both." You said, collapsing into one of the wooden chairs. It creaked under your weight but you paid it no mind.

The both of them could tell you still were not feeling quite right but didn't push it, Ellie disappearing upstairs to take advantage of the luxury of a shower that was actually hot with good water pressure. Joel silently followed you to a closet where the stash of unused clothes was stored away.

You found jeans for him and Ellie, a t-shirt for the young girl and a plaid shirt for him. It was one of Frank's. Joel watched you silently as you hesitated before passing it over to him. Luckily, neither of you had to fill the tense silence that followed as the shower switched off upstairs.

“I’ll go give these to Ellie then you can shower.” You mumbled, pushing past him when he gave no more than a grunt of acknowledgment.

You don’t know what you expected from the man, he wasn’t exactly well-versed in emotional support. Just something a little more would have been nice. You pushed the thought aside as you knocked on the bathroom door.

“Yeah?” Ellie called back.

“It’s me. I’ve got you some clothes.” You were slightly turned away from the door in case she decided to open it.

“Oh! Okay, hang on.”

There was muffled rustling from the other side before the bathroom door opened a crack and a hand stuck out.

You laughed and gave her the pile of clothes. “Should be some spare toothbrushes under the sink too. Maybe some toothpaste. If you’re, I don’t know, feeling extra hygienic.”

“Feeling extra hygienic.” She echoed back in amusement. “Thanks!”

The bathroom door slammed again and you rolled your eyes.

“You’re welcome.”

You trotted down the stairs to find Joel hovering by the door to the kitchen, surveying his surroundings. You recognised that look.

“What do you need?” You asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

You sighed. “Don’t tiptoe around me, Joel. What do you need?”

His gaze shot back to yours.

Tense silence hung in the air for a few seconds.

Just as he opened his mouth to reply, Ellie came bounding down the stairs and collapsed in front of the box of CDs again. She didn’t seem to notice the staring contest going on between the two of you as she rifled through the music rapidly.

Joel’s mouth closed again momentarily before he appeared to change his mind. “You good here for a while?” He directed at Ellie.

The young girl glanced up from the box and nodded, finally noticing the atmosphere in the room.

Joel turned back to you and tilted his head towards the front door. "Let's take a walk."

You followed him silently as he walked past you and out the front of the house, not stopping his fast pace until he was well away from the building.

Falling into step beside him, you debated whether you should be the first to speak. Thankfully, you didn’t have to think on that for too long because as you reached the point where the boutique was coming into view, Joel stopped and suddenly turned on you.

"You should stay here."

The statement felt like a knife in your chest. The way he said with such finality, such conviction. Like he’d been thinking it for a while. You wondered if that had been his plan all along.

"What?" You didn’t let your confusion and hurt go amiss from your tone.

Joel could only repeat himself. "Stay here."

You scoffed. "Why would I do that?"

"It's safe." He pushed through clenched teeth.

You nodded. "Safe."

"Your home."

He’d completely lost you.

And yet you nodded slowly again. "My home."

He nodded tightly, wishing you'd stop repeating everything he said in that sardonic tone.

You clicked your tongue quietly. "You think this is my home?"

"Yes."

You glanced at the row of derelict buildings next to you, the cracks on the ground, the dead grass. "The place I left years ago, where I had no friends, where my parents have recently killed themselves, you think that's my home?"

Joel had never heard you directly refer to Bill and Frank as your parents. It pained him to hear the word used in such a horrific scenario. But he didn’t let up.

"You grew up here."

You laughed humourlessly. "You grew up in Texas. Do you still refer to that as your home?"

He'd like to. But didn't. "No."

"And what is your home, huh? What do you think of your home as, Joel?" Your brows furrowed together as you watched him thinking about it.

Sarah.

Tommy.

Tess.

...You.

You didn’t let him answer. "Bet it's not a place, is it?"

You were right.

You knew that so you carried on. "Bill and Frank were my home. Now they're gone. Tess was my home. But guess what? She's gone too. Tommy's gone fucking M.I.A.! So what am I left with, Joel?"

Him.

"I'm left with you." You shoved at his chest, surprised by your own strength when he took an unsteady step back. "So if you think that I'm going to stay in this fucking ghost town alone instead of following my home wherever he goes with that girl who needs us, then you really don't know me at all."

You went to push past him, to leave his ridiculous suggestion behind and maybe go clear your head with a hot shower, when he stopped you with a statement that felt like the knife he’d already plunged into your chest was being twisted around to hurt you even more.

"Tess promised Bill and Frank that we'd look after you."

The scowl on your face deepened and Joel knew he'd given the wrong answer but it was the only answer he knew to give.

"Is that what I am to you, Joel? A promise that Tess made?"

He didn't respond.

A sting that threatened tears bit at the back of your throat. "Because if I'm a promise that someone else made for you then fine, I'll stay. I won't burden you with having to take care of me anymore." You ran a hand down your face. "You've got your hands full with Ellie anyway."

“That’s not what I meant.” He tried.

And failed.

“Then what do you fucking mean?!” You wailed, fingers clawing at your scalp in frustration. “Do you want me to stay here for me or for you? Just spit it out, Joel! So I understand what the fuck you want!”

Joel Miller was an intimidating man. He marched around with a permanent frown on his face, his tall and broad figure parting any crowd that saw him coming. That's why, when he took a few sudden paces towards you, you inched back a couple steps. It was instinct. He was a killing machine. And he didn't look too happy with you right now.

But the pure shock that rocketed through your system when his large hands landed on each of your cheeks and he crashed his mouth against yours would have been enough to keep a whole city's electricity running for a month.

You froze for a moment, eyes fluttering shut in surprise, not sure what to do with yourself. Joel Miller was kissing you. Joel Miller was kissing you. Out of every possible outcome, you never could have predicted this. The older man who you had adored quietly for years and trusted with your life, with your soul, was kissing you.

Your fists curled into the front of the shirt he’d been wearing for days, fabric a little stiff with dirt and grime, using it as leverage to meet his lips halfway.

He kissed you hungrily, like a man starved, devouring everything he could possibly take from you. Fingers tangled in the back of your hair, tugging roughly to elicit soft whimpers out of you. He licked into your mouth hotly, tasting as much of you as possible.

The feeling of your palms sliding up his chest seemed to knock him out of his stupor, detaching himself from you and taking a couple of unsure steps back.

He looked at you surprised, almost like he couldn't believe he'd done that. "I-"

"Joel..." You trailed off when he gave you a warning look. So you went for another approach. "I thought you and Tess..."

His face tightened in frustration. "No."

You didn't believe that. "No?"

"No." He gave a subtle shake of his head. "Never."

He seemed adamant. And sincere. So you chose to believe him.

You weren’t shocked when he looked at you for just a couple of seconds more before spinning on his heel and started walking back in the direction of the house. He was like that. Joel seemed to enjoy ignoring his feelings.

But then he changed his mind and looked back at you again. "We can stay a couple of days and then we need to move again."

You nodded slowly. "Okay."

He tilted his head up towards the dull sky for a moment before turning again and stalking off.

You waited until he was out of sight before following him. If he was conflicted on what he’d just done, then pestering him with your presence certainly wasn’t going to help.

When you got back to the house, Ellie was still sat on the floor.

She didn’t even look up as she spoke to you. “The old man’s showering, thank god. Thought my nose was going to fall off.”

You stifled a laugh and set about finding out if there was any food in the pantry that was still good to eat. You knew there was an endless supply in the basement and garage, but something slightly fresher was more likely to satisfy the three of you for the next couple days you were apparently staying. Managing to find something mildly edible and leaving it out for the two of them to eat, you informed Ellie she could help herself to anything in the house before making your way upstairs to find some of your own stuff to wear in what used to be your old bedroom.

You’d miscalculated how long it would take Joel to wash away the days worth of dirt as he emerged from the bathroom just as you walked past it, hair damp and slicked back and new-ish clothes on. He looked good. Very good. And somehow better than usual.

You swallowed thickly and slid past him into your old bedroom, not saying a word as he watched you go. The knowledge that he felt something for you, you didn’t know just what yet, was weighing down on you. What were you supposed to do with the idea that he maybe liked you just enough to want to kiss you? Joel wasn’t the kind of man to suddenly open up about his feelings and tell you he was hopelessly in love with you. Maybe he was pre-outbreak, you thought. You’d like to have known the him that existed pre-outbreak, you decided. But he certainly wasn’t that man now.

You pushed your door shut behind you, leaning against the wood and letting out a long exhale. God, why had he decided now was a good time to make this more complicated than it already was? You almost despised him for it.

Shaking the thoughts away, you found yourself some clothes and traipsed to the shower. The hot water and steam would clear away the temporary worries whilst you figured out how you were going to address your own feelings for him. Sure, you’d always known you’d silently harboured a thing for Joel. But you’d always assumed that nothing would ever come of it, he was a lot older and Bill would kill him if he ever caught wind of anything, so you’d buried the feelings deep down inside of yourself. Until today apparently. When he’d decided to dig it all up by kissing you.

You scrunched your eyes shut and forced that thought out of your head. The memory of the way his lips felt against yours, the way his hands, his very large hands, held you, the way his tongue licked into your mouth, the way he groaned lowly deep in his chest.

Thoughts. Forced. Out. Gone.

The rest of the day was uneventful. The three of you ate in silence before Ellie declared she was tired and you told her she could sleep in your old bed. She seemed ecstatic with that as she’d admitted to snooping earlier and thought that the mattress looked comfortable. You’d laughed and waved her off. Joel had then mumbled something about supplies and had disappeared into the basement.

You took that as your opportunity to speak to Bill and Frank, something you’d wanted to do since Ellie had first read that letter. So you hauled yourself up from where you were sitting, padded down the short hallway to the room where their bodies rested, and promptly sat down right outside the door.

You spoke to them silently in your head, giving them updates like you would’ve done were they still alive and you were just visiting. Telling them about life in the QZ and what you’d been up to. In retrospect, it seemed ridiculous. But at the time, it felt right.

When you were done, you just closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the door.

"Don't go in there."

Your eyes shot open at the deep voice to find Joel standing a few feet away from you. Of course. Who else would it have been?

"I'm not. Just wanted to sit with them for a minute." You sighed and squinted your eyes at him. "I know that sounds crazy."

He shook his head in disagreement. "I understand."

There was a brief moment of silence.

He broke it. "It's late. You should go to bed."

"Ellie's in my bed.”

"Master bedroom." He countered.

You frowned. "I thought that's where you were sleeping."

"Couch." Joel’s line of defence was unwavering; you didn’t really know why considering you were having a simple conversation about sleeping arrangements.

So you pushed on. "Couch? Why? Isn't that uncomfortable?"

"I've slept on worse."

"What's wrong with the master bedroom?"

He hesitated. "That's where Bill and Frank used to sleep. Feels like an invasion."

Oh.

You hummed and nodded your head. "That's why I can't do it either."

"You can't stay here all night."

"I've slept on worse." You repeated his words back to him, surely he would understand.

He nodded and slowly offered out his hand. “Come on.”

You almost didn’t take it, shocked that he was doing it. But after a moment’s pause, you slipped your hand into his and let him pull you up. And when he didn’t immediately let go, and started to pull you towards the couch instead, you thought you might have a heart attack.

When the two of you reached your apparent sleeping grounds for the night, Joel turned back to look at you. Only to find that you were a lot closer than expected. He didn’t like the way you looked up at him because it reflected a grief he’d only ever seen in himself. It was too personal, what you were feeling. He hated it. And yet, he couldn’t help but feel tempted by it.

He’d already crossed that boundary once. What was once more?

You were less surprised the second time Joel Miller kissed you. In fact, you were more relieved.

One hand cupped your face, keeping you grounded, the other clutched at your waist, keeping you close. Whether that was for him or for you, you weren’t sure. But you weren’t going to complain either way. And when the two of you fell back onto the couch all bitter memories of loss, of grief, of confusion, of him all went away.

Joel could only wish that he was on the same mental path.

This was so unbelievably selfish of him. Bill and Frank trusted him with your safety and security. And here he was on their couch, the memories of their lives still dancing around him fresh, kissing their daughter as he groped and grabbed at you with lust fuelled energy. It was more than lust, Joel knew that, but the ghosts of Bill and Frank didn't.

You were on top of him, full weight pushed against his body, and Joel could think of nothing but how fucking soft you felt under his touch. He ignored the betrayal of two of his only friends, ignored the glaring age difference, ignored that he was feeling what he should have felt for Tess. None of it mattered when your skin was warm and velvety in his palms. None of it mattered when your tongue slid against his and you swallowed the soft groans he'd accidentally let loose every now and then. None of it mattered when you whispered his name against his lips almost checking like his was still there with you. And of course he was. He'd never leave you from this moment on.

He'd continue to be selfish and ignore all the reasons why this was so wrong because it just felt right. Like you'd said, he was your home. And you were certainly his. Maybe he could afford to be selfish for once in his life.

The kisses were sweet, almost as sweet as you, but Joel could feel you yearning for more. Your fingers itched against him, twitching in anticipation. He understood perfectly as he felt the same, letting his hands drift to wherever they wanted. And you had no complaints, arching into his touch as much as you could.

The two of you were like horny teenagers, making out on the couch and trying to stay as quiet as possible so as not to wake the rest of the house. The rest of the house being Ellie in this scenario. Although the teenager wasn’t stupid; she’d felt the tension as soon as she’d met the two of you. Even if you both appeared unaware of it.

The sun dipped below the horizon.

Hands dipped below waistlines.

A war raged through Joel’s mind. This was wrong. So unbelievably wrong. But you felt so right.

He broke away momentarily, running a thumb along your bottom lip. “Maybe you should sleep.”

You only nodded at him, eyelids half closed and pupils blown. Joel just kissed you again. Maybe his moral dilemma could be a problem for the morning.

A/N: When I say this has been sitting in my drafts for ages, unfinished, but calling to me. Glad I finally got around to completing it :)

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou #tlou hbo #the last of us fanfiction #ej’s fics #ej’s writing #deakyjoe’s fics #deakyjoe’s writing

[omenarchive]

Welcome to the Omen Archive!

We're pleased to see you. You may note the “pardon our moon dust” banner at the top of our site. We’ve been weighing site readiness against a desire to launch, and finally felt we had reached the tipping point. This doesn’t, however, mean that things are complete: there is a long list of projects on the docket. Some are below. 

We intend, in time, to add:

A single campaign-at-a-glance page

Character cards (current level)

Character cards (previous levels)

Character level-up summaries for each level

Character damage taken

Fearne’s Wild Shapes

Chetney’s Hybrid Transformations

Chetney’s toys

Times that FCG snaps

Laudna’s Hunger of the Shadow

Imogen’s dreams

Laudna’s “capable”s

Ruidus flares

FCG’s baked goods

Delilah appearances

Campaign calendar

Dynamic character/party inventories

Visited locations list

Improved ability to sort existing lists and tables

Additional data visualizations (graphs, etc.)

Export data to machine readable formats, such as Excel or JSON

If there are additional stats you’d like to see collected, please email us at [email protected], as well as (if relevant) some notes about how you tend to use that type of data (for example, running some analysis of your own, cross-checking lore, researching fanfiction, etc.). We’re always happy to add new things to the list where we can. 

Keep visiting the site for updates, and keep an eye on our social media for announcements of additions and changes to our stats and interface.

-

ETA: We're happy to see people getting excited about discovering new data via our site, but there's one important detail we want to be sure to clarify. Abundant credit is due to the team at CritRoleStats for not only lending us all of the pre-Episode 82 data on our site, but also for providing a partial foundation for some of the above categories where we hope to expand. While some of the data we eventually add to the site will be new from the ground up, thus far a lot of our work has been providing new interfaces and visualizations for engaging with the work the CritRoleStats team has already done!

#critical role #the omen archive #updates

[thisisnotthenerd]

as the fhjy premiere is upon us, i'm back with another edition of thisisnotthenerd's d20 stats. it's just the updates that are relevant, since relationship tracking is taking so long to do and i got sidetracked by polls for a few months. this will be sorted by the categories i have data for--you can look at the spreadsheet to find data for all d20 seasons. or you can read it on ao3. anyway:

player data:

runtime and episode data:

before the start of junior year, we have spent 88 hours, 40 minutes, and 14 seconds with the bad kids on-screen, including in oneshots. this is about 3 days, 16 hours, 40 minutes, and 14 seconds.

that's 41/221 d20 episodes, 22 of which were battle episodes.

we've spent 125 hours, 37 minutes, and 32 seconds in spyre as a whole, or 5 days, 5 hours, 37 minutes, and 32 seconds.

that's 57/221 d20 episodes, 32 of which were battle episodes.

cast appearances:

brennan at the top of the list, with 19 d20 appearances, 15 of those as a gm/dm.

next is lou, with 11 seasons as a player; 8 intrepid heroes seasons, 3 sidequests.

followed by ally, zac and siobhan, each with 2 different sidequests under their belts

second to last is emily, with 9, with acofaf

and in last is murph, with only 8. if aabria is in 2 of the 2024 d20 seasons, she's in the running to beat him.

seating preferences:

junior year tipped a lot of the intrepid heroes into a distinct preference, simply by setting them on one side of the table.

emily axford: strong left side preference (6/8), most commonly in L1 and L2. paired next to zac 5/8 seasons, and across from murph 5/8 seasons. fig sits in L1.

zac oyama: strong left side preference (6/8), most commonly in L2 and L1. paired next to emily 5/8 seasons, and across from ally 7/8 seasons. gorgug sits in L2.

siobhan thompson: weak left side preference (5/8), most commonly in L3 and R3. paired next to lou 7/8 seasons [doubled across 5/8], and across from emily 3/8 seasons. adaine sits in L3

lou wilson: even split preference, most commonly in R3 and L3. paired next to siobhan 7/8 seasons [doubled across 5/8], and across from murph 2/8 seasons. fabian sits in R3.

ally beardsley: strong right side preference, most commonly in R2 and R1. paired next to murph 6/8 seasons, and across from zac 7/8 seasons. kristen sits in R2.

brian ‘murph’ murphy: strong right side preference (7/8), the strongest of the intrepid heroes, most commonly in R1 and R2. paired next to ally 6/8 seasons, and across from emily 5/8 seasons. riz sits in R1.

character data:

given what the bts's have shown, there might be some changes to these that i'll update during the premiere, but as of now, this is a quick summary of the bad kids' data, including dnd race, class, level, highest stat, feats, and age. you can go through the thisisnotthenerd's d20 stats tag for my previous commentary on this data, or check out the spreadsheet.

i'm putting them at level 9 for now because that's what we left off with, but more than likely they're starting at level 10 or higher. we know about riz's respec, but there may be others that crop up during the season.

fig faeth: tiefling. lore bard 8, hexblade warlock 1. CHA. actor, lucky. 17-18

gorgug thistlespring: half-orc. berserker barbarian 8, artificer 1. STR. orcish aggression/fury. 18

adaine abernant: high elf. divination wizard 9. INT. spell sniper, war caster. 16-17

fabian seacaster: half-elf. battlemaster fighter 6, swords bard 3. DEX. sentinel. 18-19

kristen applebees: variant human. twilight cleric 9. WIS. human determination, inspiring leader. 17-18

riz gukgak: goblin. arcane trickster rogue 9. DEX. healer. 17

all of the bad kids have some magic now--the ladies are all full casters, while fabian is a split multiclass, gorgug is a 1/2 caster multiclass, and riz re-subclassed into a 1/3rd casting progression. still an even split of multiclasses and pure classes, though that may change. riz's re-spec has bumped arcane trickster up to the most common rogue subclass, with 6 arcane trickster characters, 4 of whom sit in R1.

and that's it! all of the intrepid heroes/bad kids data that i have updates for! see you all at the premiere of fantasy high: junior year tomorrow!

#dimension 20 #intrepid heroes #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #thisisnotthenerd's d20 stats #brennan lee mulligan #lou wilson #ally beardsley #zac oyama #siobhan thompson #emily axford #brian murphy #fig faeth #gorgug thistlespring #adaine abernant #fabian seacaster #kristen applebees #riz gukgak #dimension 20 meta

[mistydeyes]

an undercover beach episode

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summary: You find yourself undercover again with Gaz but this time your uniform is a cherry red bathing suit and his are swimming trunks. He can't help but flirt a little especially when you're wearing his favorite color.

Part of @glitterypirateduck Gaz Fest! Please check out the tag to see other amazing works or consider participating :) Category: undercover Prompt: "You're not going out in that"

pairing: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x fem!reader (codename: Genesis)

warnings: swearing, violence, the male gaze

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

“Genesis, it’s almost time to go,” Price called as Gaz emerged from the adjacent room. Gaz smoothed out his swim trunks and looked at his name tag on the waistband. He mumbled something to Price about hating the uniform for this mission. “Just give me a second,” you replied as you tried to tie your bathing suit top. “God why am I always undercover,” you grumbled. Despite your technical skills on the field and being just as good of a sniper as Ghost, you someone always found yourself in some kind of outfit. It also somehow was always with Gaz. But you didn't mind being paired with the gorgeous man. “Gen let’s go!” Gaz's voice sounded through the door. “Fine but you’re going to have to tie this for me.” With that, you grabbed your sheer white coverup and put a pair of sunglasses on your head. You turned the knob to see Gaz standing on the other side.

He practically dropped the file in his hands when he saw you. You were glistening with suntan oil as you eyed him. You held the strap of your red halter bikini top, and Gaz’s eyes traveled down your fit body. The red perfectly matched your skin tone and the suit accentuated your assets. Is this heaven, he thought to himself as his gaze traveled from your chest downwards to your hips and thig- “Kyle?” you pulled him out of his daydream, “can you please tie my top? Then we can go.” He shook his head as you looked at him confused. “You’re not going out in that,” he coughed and tried to slow his rapid heartbeat. After many missions and shared safe houses, he wondered if there was a future between you too. The bathing suit was not helping, especially when he knew you were being used as bait. You rolled your eyes at his comment. “I only packed one bathing suit and plus we’re going down to the pool,” you explained, annoyed, “trust me I wish I was on holiday wearing this and not here.” He continued to stand there, dumbfounded. You tried to cover your wandering gaze to his muscular chest by feigning annoyance. “Can you please," you practically shouted and he brought his hands to yours.

Your fingertips brushed as he fumbled with the stretchy fabric. "Too tight?" he questioned as he finished and you shook your head. "Now how do I look?" you said, turning with a smirk. “Nice uniform, Gen” Ghost commented from near the balcony. You turned your body to him and Gaz took a moment to notice how the bathing suit barely covered your ass. He was glad you couldn't catch him peeking a look. “Shut up, you should be the one wearing this,” you mumbled as you glared at him. "You have a good look from here?" you asked as you motioned to the glass doors. Below sat the beaches on the Amalfi coast and beautifully striped cabanas. "Good enough," he said, lowly, "as long as you and Gaz can get the mission done then I shouldn't have to intervene." You nodded before turning back to the rest of the task force. "Ready to go, Gaz?" you asked, trying to avert your eyes from his sunscreen-covered body which looked perfect in his server uniform. He nodded and you allowed him to go first with Soap and Price following after.

After you exited the room, you went your separate ways. Gaz blended into the service bar while Soap and Price in their beach attire, took the elevator with you. "That come with more than a string, lass?" Soap joked as you descended the floors. You made sure to crush his toe in response. "Let's just get this over with," you mumbled before ignoring the eyes of the other guests and making your way to the warm sand. When you reached the cabanas, you placed your sunglasses daintily on your nose as you looked for your target. "Bingo," you whispered to yourself as you made your way to the Italian crime boss. "Mind if I join?" you flirted and he looked like a bull seeing a red muleta. "Of course, you can," he responded and gestured you into his cabana. You closed the white curtain slyly and sat on his lap. You hoped Gaz noticed you entered as you made a flirtatious conversation with the older man.

"I have a glass of sangria," you heard through the curtain and took a deep breath upon seeing Gaz with a tray. The man gestured to the table and Gaz went to put it down, accidentally spilling it on the ground and the man's feet. You jumped back with the man saying a handful of swears in Italian. As Gaz tried to clean the spill with a towel, he bent down and pulled out a syringe. The man barely had time to register the situation as Gaz plunged it into his thigh. You laid the now dead man down on the light blue couch and turned to notice Gaz's eyes on you. "Stop that," you demanded and he looked away. "I'm not the only one in a bathing suit," you joked before motioning for him to exit first. "See you soon, Gen," he winked and you hid your blush with your hands. You left soon after and pretended to say you'd be right back. With the mission successfully completed, you rendezvoused in the hotel room. Everyone was packing up their things as Gaz laid on the bed.

"What was in that thing anyways?" you asked as you fell next to him. "Lead I think?" he questioned, "Laswell gave it to me." You shared a small laugh at her ingenuity. Gaz suddenly turned to his side and you reflexively covered your exposed chest. The sheets felt cold as you felt heated at his gaze. "Red looks good on you," he smirked and you couldn't help but feel a little flush. "Really now?" you retaliated, mirroring his position, "Don't tell me it's your favorite color." Gaz couldn't hide the attraction to you and got up to avoid your interrogation. As he left you called out to him. "Maybe I can get this to be my swim uniform!"

#gazfest #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #modern warfare 2 #call of duty #mw2 imagine #madebyizzie #gaz imagine #kyle garrick imagine #mw2 #izzie is writing

[babymetaldoll]

"Embarrassed" (Spencer Reid x fem!bau reader)

Category: hardcore fluff, friends to lovers. Warnings: Cursing, Spencer being a little asshole, the BAU being nosy as usual. Summary: Spencer embarrassed himself in front of reader, and the annual FBI beach trip could be the perfect place to make things even more awkward between them.  Requested: Nop A/N: I wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins Summer Challenge, hope you guys enjoy it. Prompts used: - He has a degree in engineering. How can he be defeated by a sandcastle? - I don't really like the beach... Sandy food, pink skin, limited and unengaging topography, but mostly drug-resistant bacteria spread by seagull feces. - It's like Hotch at the beach- - Next summer we are doing the Alaskan cruise. Masterlist

- “Explain to me again why I have to spend time with you during the weekend when we just spent eleven days working on a case in Oakland?”- Rossi asked as the entire BAU Team walked into a beautiful cabin by the sea, prepared especially for them.

- “Because we have to do the team training, along with all the paperwork it includes. But at least we have a nice view.”- Hotch explained, opening a window, staring at the deep blue ocean in front of them.

- “For once, I’m glad we have to do this stupid program.”- Morgan commented and took off his shirt. - “Sand, sun, and babes, that’s all I need to enjoy my weekend.”

- “We have to get ready for Strauss lecture.”- (Y/N) pointed out and tossed his shirt back- “Please, put this back on. I don’t wanna see your tits around the house.”

Spencer chuckled at those words and Morgan turned to him immediately.

- “What are you laughing about, pretty Ricky? Are there other tits you wanna see around the house?”- Morgan teased his friends, who turned blood red in a minute, coughed, and walked away, to hide in a room, slamming the door behind his back. (Y/N) raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms on her chest.

- “You love making him feel uncomfortable, don’t you?”

- “Come on! We all know he has the hots for you, little Mama. When are you going to do something about it?”

- “He is my friend, with a capital F.”

- “You could be doing the capital F if you stopped being so stubborn.”- Morgan replied and turned around. He knew he had crossed the line and didn’t want to give (Y/N) the chance to smack him for being nosy.

Yes, everybody knew Spencer was in love with (Y/N). It wasn’t really a secret after he blurted it out by accident on a supermarket mic during a case investigation in front of the whole team. The entire incident was way too embarrassing to even recall, and the BAU had pretended it never happened. Everybody except Morgan, of course. He loved teasing Spencer every chance he got. The whole episode had been messy, and though it had been a few weeks already, (Y/N) still didn’t have a chance to talk with Spencer about it, and he kept acting like it never happened. That weekend’s Team Training Program at the beach was the perfect chance to fix things between them.

If only Spencer dared talk to her first.

Around half an hour later, a very unhappy team walked out of their cabin, ready to deal with whichever activities Strauss and headquarters had planned for them. The FBI had rented an entire villa for the weekend, to host their annual team training program. Rossi hated the idea, Spencer hated the beach. Hotch hated the fact he was wasting time he could be spending with Jake. JJ hated missing Henry’s soccer game, Garcia hated having to work out so much, and Prentiss hated the fact she couldn’t just lay on a chair at the beach with a drink and just tan a little.

(Y/N) and Morgan were the only ones excited to be there. Morgan still thought he could get a girl, and (Y/N) just wanted to spend a little time with Spencer, and maybe ask him out on a date. After all, a weekend at the beach was the perfect scenario to finally talk about what happened and maybe do something about it.

- “Beach activities are a great way to bring a team together.”- Strauss announced as she walked in front of at least 50 FBI agents. All of them, BAU included, wore dark blue short sleeve shirts with the FBI logo, and grey shorts. Everybody except Rossi, of course. He stood among them smoking a cigar and wearing his everyday outfit.

- “All the team-building games you are about to go through, were designed to promote communication, cooperation, and creativity. They will help our agents build trust, learn to delegate tasks, and enhance problem-solving skills.”

- “Sounds like a boy scout’s speech”- Rossi whispered to Prentiss and she did her best not to chuckle. But of course, Strauss noticed and immediately raised an eyebrow in disapproval.

- “You’ve all been designated with a number, that’s your team. Please form your teams so we can start the first activity.”

(Y/N) sighed, already annoyed. She understood the idea of having to go through a team seminar to improve one’s relationship with their team, but having to know other agents and talk with strangers… wasn’t really into her plans.

- “Hey….”- Spencer whispered as he stood next to her in the middle of the beach, right next to a bunch of agents neither of them had met before.- “I… I think we are on the… same team.”- Reid managed to say, and continued staring at his feet in the sand.

- “That’s great!!”- (Y/N) replied, maybe a little bit too enthusiastically. - “We haven’t… it’s been… well, we haven’t had the chance to talk much lately.”- she knew why they hadn’t talked. It was weird. Still, neither of them had addressed the pink elephant in the room, he just nodded and didn’t say another word for a few minutes.

- “Did you put on sunscreen?”- she asked and Spencer turned to look at her with wide-opened eyes.

- “Ye... yes, yes, I did. I always do”- he stuttered and started rambling right away- “Did you know daily use of SPF 15 sunscreen can reduce your risk of developing squamous cell carcinoma by about 40 percent? and lower your melanoma risk by 50 percent.”

- “Yes, I try to put on sunscreen daily as well, but I usually forget.”- (Y/N) added ‘cos she needed to make that conversation last at least longer than a minute. It was ridiculous, Spencer not even being able to look her in the eyes only because he had accidentally said he loved her in front of a whole crime scene, Nebraska’s police force, and the whole BAU team. Even Garcia.

- “Anyway”- (Y/N) said when she noticed Spencer wasn’t saying anything - “Are you enjoying the trip?”

He stared at her and licked his lips - nearly giving her a heart attack - as he tried his best to find actual words to reply to that question.

- "I don't really like the beach…”- he finally mumbled- “Sandy food, pink skin, limited and unengaging topography, but mostly drug-resistant bacteria spread by seagull feces.”

- “Oh…”- (Y/N) sounded disappointed, and neither of them said another word. Their new team gathered around them, and the instructions for the first activity were delivered.

The first team training activity was a beach scavenger hunt. Hotch’s team won ‘cos he was the team leader and… well, he is the best leader in the FBI. Spencer and (Y/N) tried their best, but their group was having serious trouble focusing. Apparently, no one wanted to spend the day at the beach working.

The second team training activity was a beach obstacle course. Morgan’s team won, basically ‘cos most of the agents in his team were pure muscle. Spencer was incredibly embarrassed to even do the circuit, ‘cos he felt self-aware of every one of his moments and that everybody was looking at him. And he ended up tripping on his own feet. Just when he thought he couldn’t embarrass himself more, there he was, face into the sand, hearing the entire FBI laughing at him.

Rossi looked at Morgan and shook his head. The kid needed help. But how?

- “Are you ok?” (Y/N) whispered when Spencer reached her side and he just nodded. - “Your ankle, does it hurt?”- she was honestly worried, but he felt so humiliated he wanted to disappear. So he did, he didn’t even answer her question and walked away. Rossi looked at the scene from a distance and headed to (Y/N)’s side in a few minutes.

- “How is the beach treating you, bella?”

- “I’m hating every minute here so far”- she replied and followed Spencer with her eyes until he got lost between all the people. Rossi noticed, he knew what was torturing her and though they hadn’t ever talked about it, it was clear he had to help those kids.

- “Come on, ragazza. You know he is crazy for you. We all do. You just have to tell him how you feel.”

- “I’m trying, Coronel Cannelloni! but he doesn’t even talk to me. The few things he has mumbled today are the only things he has said to me since “the incident,” and I don’t know what to do!”

- “He is embarrassed.”- Rossi pointed out the obvious and completely ignored the nickname (Y/N) had called him. She usually called him different nicknames just for the fun of it.

- “Well I understand that, but if I already know he loves me…”

- “Embarrass yourself now.”- Rossi suggested and the young woman just stared at him in silence. - “I mean it. Meet him in the middle. You already know he loves you, what’s the worst that could happen?”

- “You know, something bad happens every time someone asks that, right?”- Rossi chuckled at those words and shook his head.

- “It can’t get worse than him stuttering every time he sees you.”

- “I’m sure it can.”

Morgan found Spencer standing against a wall, on the other side of the main building of the complex. His eyes were closed as well as his fists, that he kept hitting against the bricks, over and over again.

- “Hey kid.”

- “Please, not now.”- Derek didn’t say another word for a few minutes. He just stood next to his friends and waited for his tantrum to pass.

- “You know Reid, that woman there loves you. Why don’t…”- and at those words, Spencer just snapped and started yelling.

- “She doesn’t! I don’t know if you remember but I had a little incident the other day with a fucking mic in the middle of a supermarket and everybody heard me telling Garcia how in love I am with (Y/N) and she has acted like nothing happened ever since!”

- “Kid”- Morgan frowned and stood in front of Spencer, holding his arms, trying to calm him down and talk some sense into him. - “You’ve been giving her the cold shoulder every time she tries to talk to you. Don’t blame this on her!”

- “Cold shoulder?! Me? To her? When?”- Spencer chuckled sarcastically

- “Dude, a minute ago she was talking to you and you left her alone in the sand.”

Morgan was right, and Spencer knew it, but he wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of saying it. However, Morgan didn’t sugarcoat things either.

- “And let me tell you one more thing, I saw how the guys from National Security in your team were eying her, and you just left her alone with those assholes after being a jerk. It doesn’t look good. How are you gonna fix it, pretty Ricky?”

Spencer opened his mouth, followed by a long awkward silence.

- “Thought so.”- Morgan sighed, and tapped on his friend’s shoulder - “Come on, let’s go back, and try to talk to her like you did before the incident.”

- “Awkwardly and clueless?”- Spencer whispered, and Derek just chuckled.

- “Just be yourself.”

- “That’s lousy advice, I don’t know how to be anyone else.”- Reid frowned and looked at his friend, who was nearly losing his patience.

- “Just don’t be your asshole self.”

The third and last activity of the day was a sandcastle-building contest. And doing his best to overcome his embarrassment and nervousness, Spencer grabbed a plastic shovel and asked (Y/N) if she wanted to help him with a part of their team construction. His hands were nearly shaking as she kneeled next to him on the sand and started working on their team’s design.

- “How did it go with the kid?”- Rossi asked Morgan, as neither of them even tried to pretend to be into the activity.

- “He is in denial. He swears she doesn’t even like him. What did she say?”

- “The kid is ignoring her and she doesn’t know what to do. So I told her to embarrass herself as much as he embarrassed himself.”- Morgan turned to Rossi and raised an eyebrow behind his sunglasses - “What?”

- “Rossi, that's shitty advice. Next time try something like: “Kiss the goddamn fool!” or something like that! I mean, the kid is hopeless and if (Y/N) doesn’t do anything, they are never going to get together.”

- “Give them some credit, Morgan.”- Rossi regretted his words as soon as they left his lips. Spencer was so nervous as he tried to talk with (Y/N) he gesticulated too much and hit part of his castle, causing half of it to crumble down.

- “He has a degree in engineering. How can he be defeated by a sandcastle?”- Rossi whispered and Derek shook his head. The whole scene was embarrassing to watch.

- “And your great advice was “embarrass yourself.” Jesus! I’m gonna have to ask Garcia to hack the system and move them into the same room. This is painful to watch!”

- “Like Hotch at the beach”- Ross pointed out - “He is so sunburned and he keeps getting redder, no matter how much sunscreen he puts on.”

If you asked anyone at the FBI about how the first day of their annual Team Training Program went, they would say it had been a mess. Most agents were sunburned and exhausted after Strauss’ program. Only Morgan and Garcia still felt like going out for dinner and maybe hitting the club, hoping to have some fun that weekend.

Spencer was alone, sitting on the sand in front of the sea. The sun was setting and he just sat there, on his own, doing his best to clear his mind and come up with a plan. But instead, he had nothing but regret. He kept remembering his worst and most embarrassing moments of the day in front of (Y/N) over and over again. It was a bad movie he’d pay not to watch ever again.

- “There you are!” - Prentiss sat next to Spencer and sighed, staring at the scene in front of them.

- “This is beautiful.”- she whispered and Spencer merely nodded. - “Why aren’t you watching this with (Y/N)?”- instead of an answer, Reid just groaned and rested his forehead on his knees, closing his eyes.

- “I’m guessing you didn’t have a chance to talk today.”- Prentiss whispered, knowing very well what had happened. Not like Morgan and Rossi could keep a secret. - “Come on, Reid, you are a fucking genius! Grow a pair and get your shit together”

- “What am I supposed to do? Honestly, ‘cos I’ve tried, but I just… can’t fucking think when she is next to me.”

- “Then don’t think, just act!”- Prentiss nearly smacked Reid as she spoke.- “I don’t think I have to tell you again, she fucking loves you! Do something.”

- “She doesn’t…”- but before Reid could finish that sentence, he felt Emily’s hand against his head, hitting him.

- “Don’t! She loves you! Now stand up, move your skinny ass, and kiss her!”

Reid turned to his friend, still rubbing the spot she had hit, ‘cos it had been incredibly painful.

- “Are you… drunk?”

- “Come on! There is no way I’m surviving sober a weekend with all these agents.”- Prentiss answered and grabbed a tiny gin bottle from her pocket- “Need one?”

- “No, thanks.”

- “Fine… now go! She was having some dinner at our cabin.”

(Y/N) was about to start eating when Spencer got to the cabin. She sat on the terrace with a grilled sandwich and a glass of wine, holding a book. Reid looked at her from the other side of the house and took a deep breath before he continued walking.

- “You’ve got this.”- he whispered to himself - “You can do this.”

- “Hey Spencer!”- (Y/N) watched him approach and smiled so wide he even stopped breathing as he stared at her.

- “You are not doing this.” - he admitted as he sat down on the chair across from (Y/N) and cut her a little smile.

- “Did you eat?”- she asked and offered half her sandwich, but Spencer shook his head and smiled.

- “Thanks, I’m not hungry.”

- “Sure? It’s your favorite. Lots of cheese and zero veggies.”- (Y/N) teased and smiled at Spencer. He blushed and looked at his hands on the table, trying to find the words to finally say what he had to.

But he never found them, instead, they fell into a comfortable silence. (Y/N) finished her sandwich and Spencer read half of her book. The one he had gotten for her a few months earlier. Neither of them said a word, just looked at each other from time to time and smiled awkwardly.

- “So… I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”- (Y/N) finally said as she folded her paper napkin a million times, in a sad and pathetic attempt at making origami.

- “Wh… wha... what about?”- Spencer stuttered immediately. Not a good sign. (Y/N) looked at him and felt bad about how nervous he was. But he had to tell him, he deserved to know.

- “I have to tell you something, but I can’t tell you here. Can you come with me, please?”- the young agent stood up and offered Spencer her hand. He hesitated, not knowing what was happening. But she just smiled and he reached out and held her hand.

(Y/N) drove in silence for a few minutes. They didn’t go too far, Spencer asked a few times where they were going and what was so important that she couldn’t just tell him in the car, but she refused to say a word. Instead, she just smiled and shook her head.

- “Just wait a second.”

Spencer didn’t get it when she parked outside a small supermarket, he just followed her in silence and watched her walk straight to an aisle and then to customer service. Reid didn’t register anything, he just followed her with honest curiosity. Until he saw her grabbing the mic and locking eyes with him.

- “Spencer Walter Reid. I am so fucking in love with you.”- the few people that were shopping at the hour turned to look at her and the young agent simply giggled.

- “Wh… what?”- Spencer stuttered, feeling his red burning red.

- “I love you. I’ve been in love with you for so long.”- (Y/N) kept talking to the mic, until one of the girls in the staff walked up to her and nearly yelled she couldn’t do that. But she (Y/N) didn’t care if she got kicked out of the store. She just cared about Spencer, who kept staring at her in disbelief.

- “Come on dude! Kiss the girl”- some random guy said and slapped his arm, forcing him to react. But before he could do anything, (Y/N) grabbed his face and planted a kiss on his lips. Spencer wide opened his eyes as it happened, and watched her winking as she slipped her tongue between his lips, deepening the kiss.

- “You… do?”- Reid whispered as he gasped for hair when the kiss was over.

- “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you but you kept running away from me.”

- “I was so embarrassed after that happened I…”- but Spencer couldn’t continue speaking, (Y/N) started kissing him again, and some of the customers watching the scene even clapped.

- “What the hell is going on here?”- a sunburned Erin Strauss asked in shock, shoving a small cart with twenty bottles of aloe vera gel, but David Rossi just chuckled and stood next to her, staring at the scene.

- “Let the kids have tonight. You can make their life under the sun miserable tomorrow.”

- “By the way, next Summer, we're doing the Alaskan cruise.”- she added and started walking away- “Agents, tomorrow we’ll have a serious conversation.”- both Spencer and (Y/N) nearly jumped as they heard her voice when she passed by their side, but Rossi just winked at them.

- “Ok, now I’m embarrassed”- (Y/N) whispered and felt Spencer holding her hand. But she didn't really care if Strauss had seen them. It was all worth it when she stared at Spencer’s sweet smile as they walked out of that supermarket. 

#spencer reid #criminal minds #mgg #babymetaldoll writes #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #fanfiction

[actually-safer-to-kiss]

The Drafts

Summary: Spencer confronts Reader about a breakup text he found in her Notes app

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Angst, Comfort?

Content warnings: Manipulation, lying, yelling, anger, ambiguous ending

Word count: 1.5k

You check yourself out in the bathroom mirror. It’s date night, and it’s been long overdue since Spencer’s been called away to four states in the past two weeks. Despite the stress that already comes with that (and the current state of your relationship), the dress he got you makes up for it, and helps you think about how lucky you are in more ways than one. It fits you just right without trapping you in the fabric. Even the fluorescent lights in his bathroom can’t make you look bad. “Spencer!” You call out, zhuzhing your hair again before leaving. No response, but you flick the switch off before saying, “I’m ready whenever you are!”

Still nothing. Not surprising. It’s rare when Spencer isn’t lost in his own mind. You’ve learned not to ask every time this happens because it often leads to theoretical explanations that go over your head within seconds. On rare occasions, he’s discovered a plot hole in one of the older Dr. Who episodes (which also go over your head).

This is a different time though. Because when you turn the corner to the bedroom, Spencer isn't hunched over his desk or scribbling incoherence on his whiteboard (yes, he has a whiteboard in his bedroom and has refused to move it for reasons unexplained). Instead, he’s pacing the small area between the wall and the foot of his bed. He’s hunched over the phone. Your phone.

You try to bite back the instant frustration as his bare feet smack the floor. “Spencer,” you monitor your tone. “Are you ready?”

“You’re breaking up with me?” That is all he asks when he finally stops to look up at you. He’s not exactly emotional, but he’s definitely holding back.

Red hotly spreads across your cheeks. “What?”

He points and his eyebrows rise like he’s found evidence at a crime scene. “Flushed face.”

“Spencer, we’ve talked about —”

“Likely a sign of embarrassment from being exposed.” He turns the phone screen to face you; paragraphs of text and broken sentences from previous editing attempts. Arguably, not your finest work.

Your mouth is agape, and it is hard to fight the instinct to close it upon suspicion of further guilt. You bet he’ll assume surprise. “I thought we talked about you not looking through my phone.”

“Because you didn’t want me to see this?” He gestures back at it as if it’s not obvious. Sadness is already breaking some barriers, starting with his voice, but he’s trying to maintain a smug demeanor. Even in potential agony, Spencer can still get a high from being right.

You grunted. It was involuntary but honest. It came out of your throat like steam, as the anger in your core is already overflowing into the rest of your body. It bursts again when you snatch the phone out of his hands. He doesn’t flinch, damn him. You scroll up and down on the app incoherently, reminding yourself of the words he’s read and memorized. You think of how they’ll haunt you, how he’ll haunt you with them. “I can’t believe you went through my phone again.”

“I can’t believe you’re not even trying to fix this," he says. “I-I understand that things aren’t the most ideal right now, but we could’ve made time to talk about it.”

“What? Like not going through my phone? Look at how that worked out.”

“I know you’ve been acting differently. No kisses goodbye every day, spacing out at dinners with my coworkers, and a slew of other things.”

“Oh, are they written down on yours? I'd love to read them.”

Spencer shakes his head, letting his eidetic memory speak for itself there. “I’m a profiler, Y/N. And I can’t deny facts.”

The grunt before was delicate compared to the noise you make now. What the noise was is unknown, but terrifying. It wipes Spencer's smirk clean off. “Yes! You’re a profiler! I’m reminded of that every single goddamn day because every move I make near you is analyzed under a microscope!” You resist throwing your phone on the bed; partly out of fear of where it will bounce to, and partly Spencer snatching it up again. Instead, you tap the screen, exiting the Notes app and navigating to your texts. You press the latest contact, Garcia. Then you stay there, knowing Spencer will see the screen brightness show slightly on your face. “You didn’t read my texts, did you?”

Spencer doesn’t say anything. Your eyes dart towards him, and you can tell he wonders what cruel piece of evidence he missed.

“Yeah. Cause if you did, you would’ve known I was writing a breakup text for someone else. But you didn’t. So once again, you’ve snooped and gone out of your way to hurt your own feelings for no reason.”

The look on Spencer’s face. No matter how angry you get, how wrong he is, the sullen puppy dog look this man can pull off with his eyes alone is a weapon. It always makes him look pitiful.

And it makes lying to him even more painful.

“Spencer.” You say with a sigh.

“Who’s it for?”

You throw your head back. “Why is that your business?”

Spencer’s interrogation tactics often get in the way of the fact that he’s not facing a criminal, but his girlfriend. His girlfriend whose privacy he violated with no warrant presented to you. But when Spencer is on a case, he fails to differentiate between the two. You’ve practically heard him making mental notes when your behavior is even slightly off. Even when they have nothing to do with him. But he’s always quick to assume they are as he’s either leaving for work or being called away before discussions can occur. Spencer is a profiler, yes, but all profilers can let their emotions get the better of them.

You show Spencer your wrists. Gold bracelets clang together instead of silver cuffs. “What’s the goal here, Dr. Reid?”

He paces the floor again, briefly, before settling on the bed corner. He’s still looking at the floor, thinking, but you can tell his thought process has slowed down thanks to your (alleged) evidence. "Something must be wrong." He whispers. It’s pathetic. “You used to tell me everything.”

“And you used to not look through my things.” You’d hate to admit that you’re shaking too, but not from sadness. You stay standing, and put your phone on the dresser next to you. Face down. You cross your arms. “Things can change. Actions have consequences.”

He exhales briefly through his nose. He looks up, his eyes already shifting to a pinkish hue. “So it’s your turn to lecture me because —”

“Because my boyfriend is profiling off the clock again? Yes. Because he’s interrogating me and questioning my intentions when he’s supposed to be getting ready for date night? A date night he insisted upon because he’s been working overtime and profiling on a jet for the entire month? Yes.”

The anger. The intensity of it all pierced your blood long before. It coiled around your vocal cords while making your point. You had plenty more to say. A slideshow would’ve been worthy of listing Spencer’s actions over the last three months alone. Except the strain is hard, and clearing your throat doesn’t help. So you stand there, looking down at the miserable man you loved once. You pretend the silence is intentional, you let it speak for itself. 

And by some miracle (or perhaps the predicted luck of your dress), it worked. After wiping the budding tears from his eyes, Spencer studies you from curled hair to strappy heels. You know a stray movement will ignite a thousand rebuttals. You preferred dinner, so you maintain your statue-like stillness by raising only your eyebrows.

Spencer swallows. “I’m sorry.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I should’ve…” He nods while clamping his lips closed. “Yeah, I should have talked to you first. I’m so sorry.”

You exhale. It could be the relief of moving again. Or the fact that you can’t help but comfort the sad man who is still technically your boyfriend. You take his hand and pull him off the bed and allow him to rest his head on your shoulder while holding your waist. His palms are flat on your back as his chest heaves and caves. Your arms are around his neck, and you comfort him with soft hushes. Meanwhile, adrenaline depletion is already beckoning your eyes to close. But you stare at the wall.

You’re so tired. You’ve been tired. Decaying is perhaps the best word for all of this. Nevertheless, you hold Spencer tightly to let him know you’re there. It's all the strength you have. The strength to end things though is of a different caliber than you thought you could fathom. You can collect enough to rip off the world's most difficult bandaid, eventually. But Spencer Reid with a theoretical broken heart is already painful enough to witness. He needs you right now. And right now, you'll be there for him.

Thank you to @imagining-in-the-margins and her discord for helping me with fleshing out this story 🩵

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid/you #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid blurb #criminalminds #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

[xjoonchildx]

kanalia | jhs x reader | chapter five: the king is a fool

banner by the amazing, incredible @kth1

⚜️summary: secrets and uncertainty plague a young queen in her arranged marriage to a kind but distant king. the farther she drifts from her husband, the closer she gets to one of his most trusted men.

⚜️pairing: queen!reader x royalguard!hoseok

⚜️rating: mature, 18+

⚜️genre: royal AU, historical AU, smut

⚜️warnings: infidelity (it’s complicated, y’all) mentions of pregnancy, fertility issues. OC struggles with depressive thoughts and episodes.

⚜️word count: 10K

⚜️notes: the queen is hot and bothered, literally & figuratively. the king puts several Ls in the disappointed but not surprised category, everyone gets drunk at some point. lord min is a terrible archer, yeona remains round and winning. the queen could melt steel with her sexual frustration, lord jung is not faring much better but at least he knows what he's doing, slightly awkward marital smut. the queen fights with everyone.

i could never have finished this chapter without these amazing authors & minds @miscelunaaa and @vyduan and one person who would probably level us all with her first fic if she decided to write one, @hobi-gif. please let me re-iterate how much it means to me that any one of you reads my stories, and it would make me endlessly happy to talk to you about it. you can talk to me here 💕

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Hyeri is curious.

She examines the stains at the hem of your walking dress with narrowed eyes, pausing her thorough study of the red-brown splotches only to steal the occasional furtive glance your way.  

Her lips purse as she shakes dirt loose from the grooves of your walking boots. She watches the sediment fall to the floor with a raised brow, uncharacteristically quiet as she reaches for the broom to sweep the mess away.

But her bewilderment only grows as she draws closer.

The older woman’s posture stiffens as she regards you, lips pulling into a thin line as she takes in the state of your wind-swept hair and grimy fingernails. You must reek of the ill temper you’ve brought back from your ride, the smell of it as pungent as the sweat and horse on your clothes. She tests your temperament in much the same way as she tests your bathwater, query as feather-light as the fingertip she skims along the surface.

“Are you… well, this evening, Your Grace?”

“As well as I ever am,” you answer succinctly, accepting her hand and stepping carefully into the tub. Woven into the spaces between each of your clipped words is rebuke; a silent warning to proceed no further. Your handmaid, who is by no means a meek woman, has the good sense to heed it.

So Hyeri says nothing as she takes a comb to the tangles in your hair, working them apart with peach oil. She says nothing as she scrubs away the dirt embedded beneath your normally pristine fingernails. And she says nothing still when you wince at the ache in your thighs as she helps you from the bath.

When the heavy chamber door finally pulls behind her, shutting the stares and the questions safely out, you make your way to bed. You extinguish the lamp on your nightstand and welcome the shadows.

And then you succumb to the darkness that envelops you, inside and out.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Steamy heat has put an end to weeks of pleasant fall weather. 

You’ve sought refuge this afternoon beneath a tree at the edge of the castle’s sprawling open field. The oak, though grand, offers scant protection from the midday sun. A bead of sweat trickles down your neck and disappears into the linen at your décolletage. 

“Between you and me, I’ve always found hunting to be an appalling sport.”

Boram shakes her head at the scene in the distance. The King and his men claim to be training for an upcoming hunt, but by all appearances, there is little training taking place. Instead they look to be bandying about like mischievous little boys, scrambling for position in front of the straw targets with bows in hand. 

“I find it to be an exercise in vanity more than ability. Little more than male preening disguised as sport.” Boram dabs at her brow with a handkerchief and sighs. “What do you think?”

You don’t answer Boram’s question on account of your distraction. Try as you might to keep your eyes on the dashing elder Lord Kim or the charming young Lord Jeon or – heaven forbid, your husband – they wander to Lord Jung instead, over and over and over again. Your gaze pulled to his strong face as though drawn by a magnet.

He turns his head and his dark eyes find yours across the distance.

The butterflies you’ve felt in his presence before are not to blame for the unsettled feeling that comes over you now. The very sight of the man makes your stomach turn over, as though you can taste the vivid recollection of the last time you saw him. 

The memory of that wonderful ride – and of the horrible way it ended – are still bitter on your tongue. Like picking the most beautiful fruit in the orchard only to find it sour and decaying inside. 

“Your Grace?”

You blink.

“I say this to you as my friend and not my Queen,” Boram says, pausing to clear her throat. “You don’t seem yourself today. Is there anything you want to talk about?”

“Nothing at all,” you lie quickly, smoothing down the damp curls springing up around your ears. “I’m fine, truly. Though I suppose it is possible the heat is making me cross. I can barely think in such conditions.”

“Awful, isn’t it?” Boram laments, reaching over to give Yeona’s belly a tickle. The baby curls into herself like a starfish, giggling as she rolls around on the blanket. “Yoongi says it will take a rain to break it. But until then, we must all suffer.”

“And suffer we shall,” you echo under your breath, watching Lord Jung load his bow in the distance. He sets his lithe body in a precise stance then draws his arm back and releases his arrow. It flies in a tight arc and lands just below the bullseye on the target. The men erupt into raucous cheers. You resist the urge to scowl.

“As for the hunting,” you add, “I think men are just as guilty of the frivolity they so often accuse women of. Not that any one of them is likely to admit it.”

“No, I suppose not,” Boram laughs. “Men are not known to be skilled in the art of introspection.”

“They certainly are not.”

And why should they be? Men never have to stop and consider the consequences of their actions. They alone decide the rules of engagement. They are free to be as vain and as frivolous and as thoughtless as their hearts desire. Horrid, infuriating creatures.

Lord Min steps up to the target. His stance is uneven and his arrow is wild the very second he lets it loose. It flies yards from the target and lands off in the grass. The men jeer loudly.

“Poor Yoongi,” Boram winces as she watches the men tease him. “He’s never been much of an archer, I’m afraid.” But the good-natured Lord Min appears to take it all in stride, shrugging off their taunts as he trades his bow for a fresh tankard of ale.

The King takes his turn next – the lines of his body thicker and stronger than Lord Jung’s, but no less elegant. The men circle around your husband as he draws the bow back with one strong arm. He takes careful aim with his arrow and deftly plants it just above the target’s bullseye. The sound of the men’s whooping echoes across the field.

And so it goes for a while, with the men taking turns loosing their arrows to varying degrees of success.

Lords Park and Jeon both prove to be adequate archers, hitting the targets more often than not. The elder and younger Lord Kims are less skilled and spend the lion’s share of their time plucking arrows from the grass behind the targets. Lord Min quickly gives up on the endeavor entirely, opting instead to sit with his ale and heckle the others.

But the two best archers on the field refuse to be distracted by drink.

The King and Lord Jung set an arduous pace, loading and firing their arrows in quick succession. Even at a distance, even with your meager knowledge of archery, you can discern that both men are quite evenly matched in terms of skill. They load, fire, and strike their respective targets with precision.

On and on they persist – despite the brutal heat, despite the fact that the other men have begun to tire. One by one the other Guardsmen surrender, abandoning their bows and collapsing onto the grass to watch. 

“These two seem quite serious, don’t they?” Boram notes. 

They certainly do. The air of silly fun that’s sat over the group for much of the afternoon is all but gone now and what began as a diversion for all of the men has clearly become a challenge between just two. The other Guardsmen seem to sense the shift in atmosphere as well, their faces earnest as they watch the King and Lord Jung compete.

Physically, the two men are quite different. The King’s muscular arms and chest serve him well as he steadies his bow and fires. In contrast, Lord Jung’s body is lithe, sleek. He moves with an agility the King cannot. But both wear matching expressions of determination. And though this competition might have been amiable at the start, it’s now evident that neither man is willing to leave the field without a clear victor.

Lord Min calls out to them both – voice too distant for you to make out his words – and the men appear to nod in agreement. They both step back from the targets, increasing the difficulty of each shot. But it takes only a few more arrows to prove that the added distance is no hindrance to either man. Both set their stances again, both aim and fire, and both land their arrows with ease.

The Guardsmen sitting nearby fall silent, and in the absence of their racket the King’s answering growl of frustration echoes over the entire field. 

“Oh my,” Boram whispers. “I’d heard there was some tension between them, and it would certainly appear to be so.”

It certainly would. Right now, the King and Lord Jung look more like rivals seeking to settle a score than lifelong friends. 

The King’s agitation is apparent in every move he makes, in the way he jerks the arrows out of the straw targets and stalks back into position. Lord Jung’s agitation is equally apparent. He accepts a skin of water from Lord Min without so much as a thanks and hands it back once he’s drained it.

It’s a strange thing to see the handsome Guardsman challenge his King with the very same passion in which he’d defended him just days prior.

“Has the King spoken to you about it?”

“No,” you admit stiffly, “He has not. Are you determined to keep me in the dark, as well?”

“Heavens, no,” Boram protests, pulling Yeona into her lap. She hands the baby a rice cake and Yeona sets to gumming at it right away. “I would never want you to think that I’m speaking ill of the King, is all.” 

“I could never think that of you.”

There is hesitation in Boram’s face when she flicks her dark eyes back to meet yours. 

“Well, the details I have are few,” she starts slowly. “But what I know is that the King expressed a wish to see Lord Jung married again and Lord Jung, from my understanding was – ” she pauses, carefully considering her next words,“ – less than amenable to the idea.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Yoongi says they fought over the matter. Quite thoroughly, from what I’ve been told.”

“I see,” you say, taking great care to keep your expression impassive. “And did Lord Min explain why Lord Jung is so opposed to marriage? He’s still a young man. I can certainly see why the King would think it a logical proposition.”

Boram’s lips purse as she thinks.

“I do not know that I can say. Though I consider Lord Jung to be a dear friend, he can be terribly private about some matters.”

You cut your eyes towards the field to search for the man in question. 

Does she really know Lord Jung? Do you? Today there is no sign of the man who’d leveled you with a smile in the Great Hall, no trace of the man who’d teased you about riding clothes before helping you onto your mount. The man you see now wears a strained expression as he watches the King take aim, his energy volatile like a pot ready to boil over. 

Perhaps you’d been foolish to think him so different from the King. Perhaps they are as evenly matched in the art of duplicity as they are the skill of archery.

“So what will come of it?” you ask after a while. “Will the King – make him marry?”

“I don’t know,” Boram admits. “And therein, I suppose, is where much of the tension lies. Lord Jung has already taken a bride once in service to the Kingdom. I can’t imagine he’d be inclined to do it again.”

There’s a sudden commotion on the field then, an outburst that has Lords Park and Jeon on their feet. The younger men rush to meet the King and Lord Jung mid-field, nodding as the King speaks. Both take off running at once. 

“I’ve no clue what that is all about, but I do wish they’d end this already,” Boram grumbles, watching the young men disappear behind the tree line as they go off in search of whatever it is the King’s asked for. “I don’t know how much longer I can last in this heat.”

“Nor I,” you agree, watching the King and Lord Jung speak to one another. Both men look sober, the lines of their faces hard. “But it seems we’ll all have to endure it for just a bit longer in order to humor this contest of male prides.”

Some arduous minutes later, Lords Park and Jeon make their return to the field.

The dust kicked up by the horses they ride precedes them, the ground parched from weeks without rain. Both men arrive in a cloud of grime – Lord Jeon on the King’s mount and Lord Park on Lord Jung’s– and dismount without delay, handing the reins over to their elders.

So this is how they will decide the victor.

“Well, let’s hope they keep their wits about them,” Boram sighs. “Lest they both break their legs in the heat of competition.”

“Yes, let’s,” you mutter.

The King is first to take his turn, of course. 

He mounts Jeonsa with ease despite the horse’s grand height and takes his time warming the warhorse up. The King runs his mount in circles around the target until he’s satisfied with his plan and the timing of his shot. He steadies himself against the jostling with his strong thighs, pulling his bow back to fire. The arrow hits the target just below the bullseye. 

The men, who’ve spent hours now drinking in the hot sun, erupt into a chorus of ruffian cheers. 

Lord Jung wastes no time taking to his own mount. His horse is leaner and quicker than Jeonsa, and it’s clear that he commands complete control of the animal’s every step. Both horse and rider move as one as he urges his mount faster, straightening his back to fire. The arrow hits the target just above the bullseye.

The men are getting rowdy now, egging on both competitors as they circle on their horses. Their shouting is louder, more animated, and you would not at all be surprised if there were a few healthy wagers underway. You wonder which of the men they’ve bet on. 

You wonder which of the men you would bet on before pushing the thought away and reminding yourself that you’re not particularly fond of either at this moment. 

The King circles Jeonsa around the target once again, taking his time about it. He seems to consider every circumstance surrounding his next shot – the angle, the speed, the light wind that blows east. After a great deal of circling and thought, he rears back to release his arrow.

It lands on the target, just above the arrow planted by Lord Jung. 

The shouting from the men becomes a low roar.

Lord Jung pointedly ignores the commotion, rolling his shoulders as he stares down the target, brow knit in concentration. Soon he’s urging his mount to move, the pair fluid as they circle the target. 

Just like the King, Lord Jung circles longer for this shot than he had for the first. Twice he draws back as though ready to fire and thinks better of it. But after painstaking deliberation, he finds his stride. He pulls his arm back and sets his stance. Then he releases his arrow. 

And it misses the target entirely.

It flies off the end of Lord Jung’s bow with astonishing speed, gliding just to the right of the straw and landing off in the distance. The men are on their feet now, jumping and yelling and slapping one another on their backs. Lord Jung shakes his head in disgust.

“Well,” Boram reaches for her basket, loading her things into it with haste. “That’s settled now. I certainly hope at least one of them feels better. Let’s move into more liveable conditions, shall we?”

You open your mouth to agree just as you spot the King barreling towards you atop Jeonsa, leaving the men celebrating his victory on the field behind. 

You nearly stumble over the hem of your dress in your rush to rise to your feet. Your husband is grinning widely when he reaches you, stopping his mount long enough to extend one large hand. You place your hand in his and he dips his head to plant a kiss on your fingers.

“Well done, You Grace,” you demur, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “A hard-fought victory.”

“Thank you. I’m quite pleased with the outcome.”

The King acknowledges Boram with a smile before turning his mount to ride back to his men. You put a hand to your brow to shade your eyes and watch as they cheer for him – reward him with the adulation he’s clearly worked so hard for. 

But a thought occurs to you as you examine the scene in the distance. 

There is no sign of Lord Jung. 

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

The King comes to you that night – hair damp and smelling of fine soap, breath tinged faintly with ale. 

He coaxes you to your knees just as he’s done so many times before. His fingers slide against your most secret place, slippery just as they’ve been so many times before. And then he’s pushing inside you, hard and hot just as he’s been so many times before.

But there is something different about him tonight.

Your husband’s touch is rougher than you remember. His grip on your waist is harder than you remember, large hands moving from your waist to your backside to dig his blunt fingertips into the soft flesh. His thrusts are more forceful than you remember, more erratic, powerful enough to push you up the length of the bed. 

You fist your hands into the bedding and push back, refusing to allow your knees to buckle under the pressure. That earns you a low groan from the King – a sound that strikes a strange chord inside you; sends a shiver racing up your spine. You press your hot face into the sheets.

Perhaps Namjoon is still feeling the effects of an arduous afternoon in the hot sun. Perhaps he’s still in his cups after a night of drinking with his men. 

Or perhaps it is all just a trick of your mind.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Morning brings no improvement in your mood. Quite the opposite, in fact. 

You wake snappish, jarred from a fitful sleep by the sudden appearance of light in your chamber. Shafts of it – hot and harsh – stream through your windows, spill across your duvet, assault your eyes. You bury your face in the pillow in a futile attempt to avoid it, sweat beading at the nape of your neck until the uncomfortable warmth forces you to quit the bed.

But the rude manner of your awakening is only one reason for your irritation.

The other is the lingering tenderness between your legs, a dull ache you can feel with each careful step. The sensation is more an annoyance than a true discomfort, but it vexes you nonetheless. Each muted throb serves as an unwelcome reminder of your visit from the King, of the peculiar way he’d bedded you last night. 

Your face flames as you think of it.

What is he about, your husband? And what of the juvenile, chest-thumping nonsense you’d witnessed yesterday afternoon? The combative way he’d gone up against Lord Jung and the grand show he’d made of coming to you to fête his victory. Boorish, absurd behavior – all of it. 

You go about your morning ablutions in silence, unwilling to meet Hyeri’s eyes for even one moment. You are in no mood to withstand her meddling today – well-intentioned or otherwise – and so it is for the best that she helps you wash and dress in relative silence. 

If there is something the older woman means to say, she has the good sense to swallow it, murmuring only a quiet warning about the heat as you slip out the chamber door.

And heavens, how you are wholly unprepared for the heat.

It, too, has worsened overnight – the air around you nearly thick enough to drink. You hurry towards the aviary, spurred on by the promise of the shade beneath its trees, but by the time you are finally seated at your desk you are soggy and sticky all over. Slick with sweat between your thighs and beneath your arms and breasts. 

Perhaps you should have heeded Hyeri’s warning. 

The thought rankles you as you open your book and attempt to pick up your story where you’d left it. You start and stop the same sentence over and over again, the heat so tyrannical that you can barely breathe, much less think. Even the King’s prized birds refuse to fly under such conditions – opting instead to perch on the highest branches, wings lifted to cool themselves with the occasional passing breeze. 

The stillness unnerves you; makes your aggravation mount with each unbearable minute that ticks by and before long, you throw your novel down in frustration. This will not do.

Loathe as you are to spend another day confined to the castle’s thick stone walls, there is no avoiding it. You’ll not survive another half hour in this heat, which means you’ll certainly not be able to pass an entire afternoon in it. You huff as you throw your things back into your basket and stalk off towards the aviary’s entrance.

But perhaps you should have been more mindful.

Immersed as you are in this black mood, you don’t notice the brambles growing at the edge of the heavy gate. You brush past them in a hurry, only to be wrenched back by the thorns that take hold of your skirt. You tug at the material with your free hand, successful only at tearing a hole in the fine linen but unsuccessful at pulling yourself free. You drop your basket in the struggle and the contents spill out, an apple rolling to a stop at your feet.

It is then that you do something very unladylike, something that would have earned you an exaggerated gasp from your sister or a sharp rebuke from your mother. 

You swear. Loudly.

You summon all of your frustration and scream what is perhaps the most undignified word you know at the very top of your lungs, the vulgarity echoing in the aviary’s eerie quiet. And though it’s done nothing to solve your current predicament, there’s something truly satisfying about speaking the nasty word out loud, about shouting it into existence.

That is, until someone coughs.

“I take it you need some help, Your Grace?”

You clap a hand over your mouth as you whirl in the direction of the voice.

Lord Min approaches slowly, eyes sparkling with amusement as he takes in your sorry state. You’ve no idea where he came from, but at this very moment you’ve never been so horrified and grateful to see him, all at the very same time. 

“Yes, I – ” you start and stop, flustered by both your behavior. “ – I’m stuck. The brambles are caught in my skirt and – ”

“Oh yes, I see,” he says, leaning down to examine the mess you’ve gotten yourself into. He tugs at the bottom of your skirt and you wince at the sound of the fabric tearing. “You’ve got yourself quite tangled up here, haven’t you?” 

“I believe I have,” you admit with embarrassment. Lord Min gets down on his knees and begins plucking thorns and burs out of the fabric, brow knit with concentration as he attempts to extricate what remains of your fine linen dress.

You clear your throat.

“My Lord, I hope I didn’t – Well, rather, I hope you were not offended by that word you heard me say. It’s not a word that I usually use, not really. Well, not ever. What I mean to say is that I know of coarse language, of course, but I’m certainly not in the habit of using it.”

“What word?” Lord Min interrupts your rambling from his perch at your feet, eyes wide with feigned innocence. “Did you say something, Your Grace? I must not have heard it.”

The corners of his mouth curve into a cautious smile, which you return with a timid one of your own. His teasing is welcome. It brings badly-needed levity to your embarrassing situation and lightens the heaviness of this atrocious day.

“What’s this, Min?”

At once, the gesture dies on your lips.

Lord Jung comes into view by way of the same path taken by Lord Min, though his sudden appearance does not bring you the same kind of relief. Quite the opposite, in fact. 

The very moment he’s standing before you, critical gaze moving from you to Lord Min and back, you feel absolutely lightheaded with anxiety. You wonder what he must make of the scene he’s stumbled upon: Lord Min on his knees, at your feet, hands fisted in your skirts. 

“You Grace.” The lines of Lord Jung’s beautiful face are hard as he acknowledges you, his voice stiff and formal in a way that makes it foreign to your ears. He bows to you much in the same way, body rigid as he performs the required motion.

“My Lord,” you return with similar formality.

“Her Grace is stuck,” Lord Min explains, unaware or perhaps unbothered by the provocative position the two of you have been discovered in. “I’m trying to free her without ripping this linen to shreds. Could use your help, seeing as you’re standing there. Push that branch back for me?”

“Yes, of course.”

Oh, but now you feel a migraine coming on. Lord Jung squeezes into the space beside you, leaning over Lord Min to push the brambles back so that the older man may have both hands free to work. At this point, both men are too close, but he is far too close. Heat blazes a path up your neck and into your cheeks. 

Inhale, you twit. Exhale.

“Last few, Your Grace,” Lord Min announces, voice muffled by your skirts. “I think the linen will need a bit of mending, but not much more.”

“Thank you, My Lord.”

Lord Jung’s gaze connects with yours. His dark eyes, normally so warm and expressive, are flat as he regards you. In fact, everything about the handsome guardsman’s countenance is uncharacteristically severe today, from the deep knit of his brows to the way his bow-shaped mouth presses into a firm line. He looks away from you without so much as a smile.

Is he – is he angry with you?

Your mouth nearly falls open at the realization. What right would Lord Jung have to be angry with you? It was he who’d laid the trap with the promise of a perfect afternoon spent riding and he who’d sprung the trap by defending your husband’s dishonesty. 

If either one of you had a just claim to animosity, it would most certainly be you. 

The awful word you’d uttered at the very start of this ridiculous dilemma springs right to the tip of your tongue. If only you had the courage to spit it at him. Horrid, infuriating man.

“There now,” Lord Min announces. “I think we’ve got it. Hang on to that bramble for a bit longer while Her Grace steps away from the gate.”

You start forward slowly, steps mercifully unencumbered by gnarled plants. Though Lord Min has done his best to salvage the fine linen, your skirt is now covered in a fine dusting of grime, torn in places from your knees to your ankles. Hyeri will have a fit when she sees you, but you couldn’t care less about the state of your ruined dress. The only thing that matters now is quitting this place at once.

“Thank you so much, Lord Min,” you breathe, dropping to your knees to gather your scattered things. The elder guardsman helps you retrieve the wayward charcoals and papers, which you hurriedly stuff back into your basket. “I’ll be off now and won’t take up any more of your afternoon.”

With that, you rush to your feet and turn on your heels to leave. You try not to think about the scene you’re leaving behind – Lord Min puzzled by your sudden exit, Lord Jung affronted by the fact that you’d pointedly ignored him in your thanks. 

You make haste with those first few steps towards freedom, only to be pulled back once again. Only this time, not by jagged brambles.

“Your Grace.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stand at the sound of the gruff voice behind you. You turn around slowly, acutely aware of both men watching your every move. When Lord Jung steps forward, your eyes fall to the gently worn leather binding in his hands. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” 

You take great care to school your features, though the panic rising inside of you threatens to spill out. Your most private thoughts are inside that book. Fragments of poems and unsent letters and one horribly incriminating sketch of a man who is most certainly not your husband.

“Thank you, My Lord,” you mumble, resisting the urge to run to him and snatch the book right out of his grip. You can feel him watching your every move as you approach to accept it with unsteady hands.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

A storm is coming. You can feel it.

Never mind that the sun is shining – or that the sky outside is a perfect, crystalline blue. The clouds dotted across the horizon hang in the air, unmoving. There is no wind to rustle the leaves in the trees. The calm is ominous. Foreboding.

“... think none of the people in this kingdom have ever seen this kind of display before. I imagine they’ll be quite awed by it. I’ve only ever seen it once myself, in a village far North. A strange lot, those people are. After all these years, they still dabble in the dark arts.”

At the other end of the long dining table before you sits the King. He’s been prattling on like this for the better part of ten minutes now; far too absorbed in his grand talk of the festival to note that his audience of one has yet to engage with a word that’s come out of his mouth.

“It’s strange though, to think of celebrating a Fall Festival in this heat. Though I generally prefer the heat to the cold, these conditions are quite beyond the pale. We’ll have to have just as much water on hand as we do ale.”

You make a sound under your breath that you hope will pass for discourse.

“Of course, there’s still much to be done. But the stewards assure me that everything will be ready in time. And there will be much to celebrate this year as I’m told the crops in all our holdings are faring well. The wheat has – ”

The King’s jabbering comes to an abrupt stop.

“You’ve barely eaten,” he notes, in a sudden fit of awareness. He regards you over the rim of his wine glass, curious. “Is the jajangmyeon not to your liking?”

“It is to my liking,” you insist, pushing the wheat noodles around your bowl in a half-hearted attempt to appease him. “As always. I suppose I’m just not very hungry tonight, is all.”

“I find that surprising,” the King says, as though you’d asked his opinion on the matter. “I understand you were brave enough to venture out into that awful heat this afternoon. I would have thought you’d be famished tonight.”

Every muscle in your body tenses at once.

“Oh?”

“I spoke with Hyeri this afternoon,” the King elaborates, oblivious to his misstep. “She said she’d warned you against leaving the castle under those conditions, but you’d off and done it anyway.” He chuckles under his breath as he recounts the conversation. “I think you surprise her at times with how strong-willed you can be.”

Beneath the table, your hands ball into fists.

The thought of Hyeri disclosing the details of your day to the King, no matter how trivial, incenses you. You imagine them together over tea, sharing a laugh as they trade observations about your shortcomings. Or worse – meeting with one another somber-faced as they commiserate over your inability to produce a child. 

That thought is the most insidious. Your nails dig savagely into your palms.

“Do you and Hyeri discuss my comings and goings often, then, Your Grace?” 

Your husband shrugs, helping himself to another generous serving of noodles.

“Often enough, I suppose.”

“So am I then to assume that when you ask me about my day, you are merely standing on ceremony? Surely you must be, given that you’ve already had a full report from my handmaid.”

The King sets down his chopsticks to look at you, perplexed by the contentious turn in this conversation. But he’s careful to school his features as he considers what to say next.

“Of course not,” he starts slowly. “I ask after you because I genuinely want to know about your day. It’s a consideration that I would think customary between husbands and wives.”

Is he – is he toying with you?

What on earth would His Grace know about what’s customary between husbands and wives? He is the one who’s made this marriage into a farce with his deceit and adultery. He is the one who’s held you at arm’s length from the very start in order to protect the woman he truly loves. Your husband’s hubris is as astonishing as it is aggravating. Horrid, infuriating man.

“Well I, for one, would genuinely like to know about your day, Your Grace,” you say, unable to keep venom from seeping into your every word. “So tell me then – as is customary between husband and wives – how did you pass the afternoon?”

The color drains from the King’s face. 

You should shut your mouth now and say no more, you know it – but by now you are far too consumed with anger to give much thought to the consequences of sharp words. You push the bowl of jajangmyeon away and get to your feet.

“Nothing of interest to share, then?” You raise a brow as you stare down at your husband, unwilling to look away for even one moment. “What a pity. Perhaps tomorrow.”

The King’s eyes narrow but his mouth stays shut. He says nothing in his own defense, says nothing to attempt to placate you. 

And he says nothing as you turn your back on him and walk out the door.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

The first crack of thunder sounds just as you’re readying for bed. You stand at your window and watch the storm roll in. 

Black clouds build off in the distance, discernible only by the occasional flare of lightning. Each bright flash is followed by an earth-shaking rumble that satisfies you somehow, as though you’ve manifested this squall with your thoughts. The violent wind and rain it carries with it a mirror of the tempest inside you.

“Do you require anything else, Your Grace?”

Hyeri’s voice comes from behind, timid and small. She’s been tiptoeing around your chamber all evening, clearly disquieted by the cold reception you’d given her upon your return. The well-bred, well-behaved woman inside you whispers that you should turn to her, do something to reassure her, but you refuse. 

Fortified by your anger, you keep your back to Hyeri and go on staring at the storm clouds.

“No,” you say firmly. “You can retire for the night.”

“But I – ” Hyeri starts, stops, and then sighs. “Very well. As you wish, Your Grace.”

And you do wish. You wish for Hyeri to leave you – not just tonight, but every night. And you wish not just for Hyeri to leave you – but all of them. You’ve grown quite tired of humiliating yourself in this kingdom; of placing your trust in people who’ve made you into a fool time and time again. 

There is rustling as the older woman hurriedly gathers her things, then a brief pause before she slips out the door. The heavy thud that finally announces her departure brings you some small measure of peace, but it does not last.

Your bath-damp body is warm when you slip beneath the heavy duvet. Too warm. Though the storm raging nearby brings with it the promise of cool rain, it is still too far off to displace the humid air in your chamber. You toss and turn beneath the heavy covers for a while, your thin nightgown soaked through with sweat by the time you finally kick your bedding away.

So you lie there in the dark, close to feverish with heat and unable to settle down. Every time you close your eyes, you’re taunted by images – of Hyeri, of the King, of the child that never comes. What you would give to be able to quiet your mind, to have some respite from the reality of your circumstances.

But there will be no respite, not any time soon. The thunder outside is close enough now to shake the castle’s heavy walls with each new blast that rips through the sky. You feel the tremors right down to your bones, the sensation causing goosebumps to scatter across your skin. 

In spite of the heat, you shiver. 

There’s a prickling that starts at your scalp and goes right down to your toes. It makes you itch with the desire to drag your nails down your arms and legs. It makes you want to squeeze your thighs together, tight and tighter still until your agitation is gone. Perhaps that is the solution. 

You cup your breasts through the damp, thin material of your nightgown. They feel sensitive, tender — and the very moment you brush your fingertips over your nipples they come to life, pebbling against the gauzy fabric. 

You close your eyes and try to imagine that your hands are not your own. That the fingers that close around the aching buds, teasing and testing, are not your fingers. That the dormant pleasure the pressure rouses inside you has instead been roused by someone else. 

In your mind, the hand that steals between your thighs is not your own. It’s larger than yours, the fingers longer and rougher than yours. You imagine that hand parting your legs, coarse fingertips slippery against the wetness gathered at your entrance. And you imagine it caressing you there, expertly stroking the spot that makes the air leave your lungs. 

What would it be like to be touched like this? To have a lover’s lips at your neck and his hand between your thighs? To have the weight of him pressing down on you, the scent of him enveloping you – to feel his warm breath fan over your skin?

These thoughts only serve to make the ache between your legs more pronounced. But the more you attend to it, the sharper it becomes. Pleasure blooms with each inexpert pass of your fingers over that place, but in its wake your desperation grows, too. 

You whine under your breath as you touch yourself harder, faster – a heaviness building at your core that makes you feel full, overripe. There is relief on the other side of whatever this is, and you know it. 

But can you reach it? 

Your imaginary lover would know how to help you reach it. He would take you in his arms and in his mouth and leave no inch of your body untouched. He would fuse himself to you, skin-to-skin, and show you how to beckon your pleasure at will, help you realize its full potential. 

In your mind’s eye you can see him – legs and arms strong and lean, golden skin illuminated by firelight. The mouth he sets to your aching nipples would be soft, lips pretty and bow-shaped. And his hair would be dark and his eyes would be a rich chocolate and his face would be – 

A clap of thunder explodes in the sky. 

Your eyes fly open – unseeing – as you gasp from the shock of it. It leaves you trembling, body slick with sweat and limbs tingling from the sudden fear. You lie there in the dark, panting as you wait for your heart to stop racing. 

And just like that, the pleasure you’ve been chasing is gone. Quick as a rabbit. 

Outside your window the heavens weep, the rain beating against the ground like a hail of arrows. 

The dry earth enjoying a relief that always seems to elude you.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

“Magnificent, Your Grace.” 

Hyeri passes a hand over the embellishments in your bodice, chest puffed with pride as she examines the dressmaker’s handiwork. Though her brown eyes have long gone dull and gray with age, they shine as she steps back to take you in from head to toe. “Just magnificent.”

It is magnificent – far and away the finest garment you have ever worn. 

Rich, plum-colored velvet embellished with gilt thread, the plunging neckline and bliaut sleeves lined with pressed bezants. You hardly recognize the woman looking back at you in the mirror, the one with her hair swept off her neck in an intricate braided bun, eyes darkened with kohl, ears and neck adorned with sparkling gold. Whoever that woman is, she is far bolder and far more sophisticated than you.

“There’s nothing like his work,” Hyeri muses, running a thumb over pattern pressed into the hem of one sleeve. “Frail as he is, it takes him ages to complete a dress. But he’s worth it. Worth the wait and worth every single won.”

You study the intertwining gold patterns stitched into the bustline. No doubt the King has paid dearly for this dress and all its fine accoutrements. The thought of your husband spending an obscene amount of money on it nearly puts a smile on your face. 

“You look remarkable in this dress,” Hyeri remarks quietly, wrinkled mouth lifting at the corners with a cautious smile. “Well, of course, you look remarkable everyday, but especially tonight.” 

Her expression is bittersweet as she reaches for you, gently tucking a strand of hair that’s fallen loose of your braid behind your ear. This newfound emotional distance has been hard on her, you know. It’s been hard on you, too. And though holding her at arm’s length has proven difficult at times, it feels somehow vital to your self-preservation.

“Don’t forget your shawl,” Hyeri says softly. “It’s gotten quite cold out there.”

It certainly has. The storm that ripped through the kingdom just days ago took the insufferable heat with it, leaving behind a pure, crystalline cold. The night sky is clear enough to see for miles. 

So you accept the shawl from Hyeri with a quiet thanks, avoiding her eyes as you slip out the chamber door.

By the time you make your way to the great hall, the revelry is already well underway. You can hear it pulsing through the slats of the heavy wooden doors, the music and commotion contained within powerful enough to stir the ground beneath your feet. The footmen posted at either side of the entrance bow deeply as you approach, then move to pull the doors open.

You raise a hand to still them, wanting a moment to steel yourself before entering the fray.

“I’m not – If you’ll just give me – ”

One of the guards steps forward to speak when your words falter.

“No need to explain, Your Grace,” he says earnestly. “Just let us know when you’re ready.”

“Thank you.” You take as deep a breath as your elaborate gown will allow. “Truly.”

You already know what awaits on the other side of those doors. Artificial smiles that hide whispers about your empty womb, honeyed and hollow words of praise from your exasperating husband. Pity too, perhaps, from those connected enough to be privy to the true state of your marriage. 

But you’ll bear it. You must. Because it’s what’s expected of you and because your political survival in this kingdom depends on it.

“Well then,” you say, smoothing down your velvet skirt with trembling hands. "I believe I've had time to collect myself."

The very same footman that had spoken to you just moments earlier gives you a sympathetic smile as he places one hand on the door’s ornate wrought iron handle. He pauses to look at you before signaling to the other footman, one brow raised as if to say are you sure?

You swallow thickly and nod your affirmation.

Slowly, the heavy doors are pulled open, creaking as they part. You step forward to enter, feeling a rush of cool air at your heels. The brief hush that falls over the great hall makes your heartbeat quicken.

But then the King stands. 

He rises to his feet and bows to you, and every person inside the great hall follows suit. You return his bow and then straighten, holding your head up high as you set off to fulfill your duty.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

The King makes no mention of the tense meal you’d shared just a few nights prior. Not that you’d expected him to. If anything, your husband’s predilection for avoidance has been one of his most consistent traits. And if he’s harbored any ill feelings about the curt words you’d spoken that night, surely they’ve been washed away in a torrent of ale.

He’s already a bit drunk when you take your seat beside him – pleasantly so, if his ruddy cheeks and leisurely smile are any indication. His dark eyes are glassy as they sweep over your form, taking in the grandeur of your dress. But they linger at your bust for just a heartbeat too long and it takes all the self-control you can muster to not kick him beneath the table.

“You look fetching in that dress,” the King notes, reaching for his tankard. “The color suits you.”

“Oh? Then you’ll be pleased to know I’ve dozens more just like it on the way.”

You startle a laugh from the King just as he’s taken a drink and he splutters on it, coughing until tears gather at the corners of his eyes. “Very good of you to warn me before the bill comes due,” he wheezes.

“But of course, Your Grace.” You infuse your words with cloying, contrived sweetness, putting a hand over your heart for emphasis. “It is the very least I could do.”

The King chuckles as you turn to look out over the room. 

The tables below the raised platform on which you both dine are teeming with people, their long wooden benches bowing beneath the substantial weight. They are littered with food and drink, tankards and platters and goblets scattered for as far as the eye can see. 

You sip your wine and watch partygoers reach over one another for noodles and steal dumplings from their neighbors’ plates.

It takes a minute for you to spot Boram. She and Lord Min are tucked into a corner, cozy and close. Your dear friend is the very picture of contentment; resplendent in a royal blue gown, glowing in the torchlight when her husband presses a kiss to her temple. Your heart aches as you watch them. What you would give to have what they have – to know the fulfillment they’ve found in one another.

In fact, the Mins make for such a compelling tableau that you nearly overlook the one behind it. Lord Jung is dressed in an arresting black and gold tunic, dark hair styled away from his face and a tankard of ale in his hand. And he is not alone.

Seated close to him – so very close – is a woman. A beautiful woman, as best you can tell from a distance. Her dark red dress in perfect contrast to her shiny fall of dark hair, the garment cut to accentuate what can only be described as a generous bust. She leans in to Lord Jung as she says something, décolletage on full display when she throws her head back to laugh.

Your grip on the wine goblet in your hand tightens.

The woman is brazen, that much you can tell. Her proximity to the Guardsman is far too close to be proper, her scandalous –  if stunning – manner of dress far too self-indulgent to be benign. And though you cannot make out clearly how she’s been received by Lord Jung, the very fact that he has not sent her away is telling. Is this the woman he intends to marry, then? Or just a diversion for the night? 

You drain the wine that remains in your goblet and signal for the serving girl to bring you more.

Moments later Lord Jung, too, flags down a passing servant to fill his tankard. For a man who once took great pride in extolling his discipline with spirits, he seems to be exercising very little of it tonight. In fact, he looks to be indulging as much or perhaps even more than his fellow Guardsmen. Perhaps that is why he does not he does not move to distance himself when the alluring woman at his side places a hand on his arm.

You swallow another large sip of wine.

“It’s nearly time for the evening’s entertainment,” the King says. “I think you’ll be impressed by what’s in store.”

You cannot tear your gaze from the scene before you. You cannot stop staring at the comely woman at Lord Jung’s side – stiffening in your seat when she leans over to whisper in his ear.

“I’m looking forward to it,” you say absentmindedly, lifting your wine glass to your lips once again.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

When you were a girl, barely ten years old, your father had come home from a long journey with a fantastic tale. 

He’d spoken of fire – in shades of red and green and gold – launched into the sky, embers raining down on the earth in a magnificent display. You’d been spellbound by the picture he’d painted for you, wishing desperately to see this phenomenon for yourself.

And now you have.

The King’s promise of a surprise well exceeds your expectations. Each new flare sent up over the open field is met with a hush from the crowd, followed by loud cheers and applause as it explodes into color.

“I brought them back from a village up North,” the King explains, preening at the crowd’s reception. “And though I wanted to show them right away, I made myself wait until the most advantageous time. What do you make of them?”

“They’re splendid,” you answer earnestly. “I’ve never seen anything so grand.”

The King hides a satisfied smile behind the rim of his tankard. By this point in the evening, he’s crossed the line from agreeably drunk to good and well soused – as have many of the others in attendance. You, too, are feeling the effects of your wine, experiencing that strange weightlessness that can only be brought on by drink.

And you are glad for the distraction of the fire display. 

It’s helped pull your focus away from Lord Jung and that woman. Though each time there is a brief break in the presentation, you cannot help but search the throng for any sign of them. You wonder where they are right now. What they might be doing. But then you drown the bitter thoughts with the wine in your goblet.    

The night wears on and the crowd around you becomes rowdier, louder – the ale barrels slowly disappearing one by one. Even the King is looking a bit worse for the wear. He’s sagged into the chair beside you, heavy-lidded as he watches the bright detonations that light up the sky.

You are not faring much better. A dull throb taps at your temples, no doubt the consequence of drinking too much wine, and you suspect that it will be far more pronounced come morning. You ought to retire for the evening now, while you still have some of your wits about you.

You open your mouth to say as much to the King at the very same time you catch sight of a slim man ambling away from the crowd. Though he’s hundreds of yards away and though there’s little light beyond the torches and the occasional embers in the sky, you recognize him right away. 

You would recognize him anywhere.

Impulsively, you get to your feet and utter a rushed goodbye to the King. He bids you farewell with a sluggish smile and not a moment later he’s gone back to gazing skyward, mesmerized by the lights. Just ahead, Lord Jung slinks off into the shadows, moving with an unsteady gait. 

And you follow him. To what end you cannot be sure.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Clearly, you’d given no real thought to this course of action. 

If you had, you’d not be scurrying across damp grass right now, struggling to keep your balance in your beautiful velvet dress. The heavy fabric weighs you down with each step, making each footfall precarious. In fact, if you’d stopped for even a moment to consider the implications of stealing away to pursue a man who is not your husband, you’d have ended this lunacy long before it even began.

But here you are in the dark, chasing after Lord Jung. With only the moon to light your way.

The slender man moves quickly, unburdened by the trappings of women’s formalwear and assisted by his long legs. You lift the hem of your dress off the ground and do your best to keep up on the shadowy path. Just a short distance ahead you can make out the lines of a thatched roof and wooden fence. 

It’s the stables, you realize, and the pieces start to fall into place.

He’s come here to meet that woman. The two of them must have agreed to leave the festival and come here for a secret tryst. Were you a woman in your right mind, that realization would stop you cold and send you running straight back to the castle. But you are absolutely not in your right mind. You are dangerous tonight; fearless from the wine flowing freely in your veins.

As such, the very thought of Lord Jung arranging for a passionate liaison with this woman has the opposite effect. It infuriates you. And you’ll not be satisfied until you can see the proof for yourself and then end this fixation once and for all.

Overhead, a flare of light illuminates the darkness just as you’re nearing the horse stalls. It’s followed by the sound of sizzling gunpowder, and it draws your attention skyward. You look up just in time to see wisps of fire tumble back to the earth. But when you fix your gaze forward again, Lord Jung is gone.

What on earth?

You’ve barely begun to consider your next move before your body is moving of its own volition, jerked right off the walking path by a hand that wraps around your arm like a band of steel. Lord Jung drags you behind the horse stall with one hand and claps the other over your mouth to smother the sound of hysteria that threatens to escape.

“What. Are. You. Doing?”

He hisses the words, one by one, his low vibrato thrumming with barely-contained anger. You’ve yet to recover from the shock of being accosted in the dark and so you stare at him, bewildered and mute.

He releases you, dropping the hand covering your mouth to walk to the edge of the stables. You watch as he ducks his head around the corner to check the walking path. Once he’s satisfied you’ve not been followed, he rounds on you.

“Anyone could have seen you.”

“No one saw me,” you scowl, finding your voice. You rub your forearm where his fingers dug painfully into your flesh. “They’re all far too drunk to see anything, I assure you.”

The Guardsman shoves a hand through his dark hair and exhales deeply.

“What are you about tonight, Your Grace?” 

A fair question, and one you ought to have considered before dashing off into the night. But you’d been so hellbent on hunting the man down that you’d given no real thought to what you’d do if you actually caught him. You hesitate for so long that he grows impatient, closing in on you.

“What,” he repeats slowly, “Are you about?”

“I don’t know,” you admit.

“Well, you ought to know,” he growls. “You ought to know damned well exactly what you’re about before you go off following men into the dark.”

But it’s not as though you’ve followed just any man into the dark, is it? You’d followed him. The admonishment riles you, bringing your temper back to a full boil. You straighten your spine and sear him with a withering look.

“That woman tonight. At the feast. She wants you to bed her.”

Lord Jung’s dark eyes go wide just before they narrow. He stalks towards you slowly, forcing you to retreat until your back is flush to the stable’s rough wooden slats. Slivers of moonlight play off his angular face, making the shadows in the hollows of his cheeks more pronounced.

He’s beautiful – even like this – even when he’s so irate that he can barely stand still.

“I know what she wants,” he murmurs, voice sinking to an octave that raises goosebumps on your arms. “What I do not know is what you want. What I do not know is why you are here.”

“So you intend to bed her,” you challenge.

Something dangerous flickers in the man's expression as he regards you, gaze potent enough to almost make you regret your sudden bout of daring. Almost.

“No.”

And so there is no tryst. No agreement between secret lovers. Adrenaline floods your veins, bringing with it a clarity that you’ve not had since you began drinking tonight. You’ve been reckless – so, so reckless – and now there is no undoing what you’ve done. 

“I’ve answered your question and now you will answer mine,” Lord Jung warns, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “What. Do. You. Want?”

All the fire has left you now. Whatever force possessed you to confront this man in this way has disappeared, leaving behind only a sickly taste in your mouth. You’ll feel more than just the wine in the morning, you know it. 

“Brave enough to follow me into the dark, brave enough to demand I explain my plans for bedsport,” he continues, brows knit as he stares you down. “But somehow, not brave enough to tell me what you’re doing here in the first place.”

“I – ” 

“Tell me then,” he goads, growing more agitated by the minute. “Open your mouth and speak. Tell me why you’re here. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to kiss me.”

You ought to have slapped him across the face. At the very least, you would have earned the look he’s giving you right now – this frozen mask of incredulity that’s come over him. He backs away from you slowly, as though poised to run. But he doesn’t.

“You’re mad.”

“I am not mad,” you say evenly, with a poise you’d not thought yourself capable of. “You asked me what I want and I’ve told you. I want you to kiss me.”

Another burst of color explodes in the sky. A loud cheer goes up over the field nearby, a disquieting reminder of the hundreds of people milling about just a short walk away. The commotion seems to sober him.

“Go home, Your Grace.” His words are strangled, forced. “You are playing with fire. You have no idea what you’re doing here.”

You stiffen, lifting your nose in the air. 

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” you lie.

Your insistence only serves to make him even more agitated. He begins to pace back and forth, glowering at you as he moves.

“Go back to your castle, Your Grace. Go back to your fine life and your fine things and no one will ever be the wiser.”

“I will not,” you refuse, petulant.

Lord Jung delivers his last blow, the fatal one, in a voice so graveled it sounds as though the words are spoken by a stranger. And perhaps he is a stranger, this man you’ve been so infatuated with. Perhaps he’s nothing like what you’ve made him in your own mind.

“Go back to your husband,” he growls. “Your King.”

Your humiliation is instant and acute. You burn with it, the embarrassment so all-consuming that it nearly makes you see stars. You can hear the blood rushing in your ears, feel your heart pounding in your throat when you finally manage to speak.

“The King doesn’t want me,” you say stiffly. “Though I am certain you already know that.”

“The King is a fool!” he explodes, surging forward and slamming his hands down on either side of you. The outburst is violent enough to shake the horse stall and the venom in his countenance nearly makes you come out of your skin. His mouth hovers terrifyingly close to yours, so close that you can nearly taste the ale on his breath. You stop breathing altogether. 

Then he wrenches himself away from you, staggering backwards as though he’s been burned.

“And so am I.”

i’d love to hear from you about this chapter! you can talk to me here. otherwise, i hope you enjoyed it and only the final chapter is left 💕

#hoseok smut #j-hope smut #bts smut #hoseok x reader #j-hope x reader #bts x reader #hoseok #bts hoseok #bts x you #hoseok x you #bts scenarios #bts au #hoseok imagine #bangtanarmynet #thebtswritersclub #bangtan

[skzhua]

Episode nine.

MASTERLIST

pairing: XO, Kitty's Min Ho x Female Reader

genre: Fluff, angst, enemies-to-lovers, slow burn, coming-of-age.

word count: 5.7k

warnings: Swearing, suggestive, jealous Min Ho, sad for some parts.

summary: Transferring to KISS was the last thing you had asked for and, yet, a certain tall boy made it seem both worse and better than you expected.

note: Bold - Korean, Italic - Over the phone

a/n: So much is happening in this one... and it's so long...

"A reason, a season, or a lifetime."

Q paused his workout for a moment. Frowning at Min Ho in confusion, he asked him to explain furthermore. As he stopped massaging his face with the face roller, he sighed.

"Every relationship fits into one of those categories. I read it in a magazine."

Q, not caring much, resumed to working out. Meanwhile, you came out of your room and sat next to Min Ho.

"The point is," he continued. "Y/N and I are starting a relationship. And looking at how things were before between us, I believe we got together for a reason."

"You needed to get laid with a chick?"

You slapped Q's arm aggressively. "What a way to talk about me when I am right here!"

"Not for that, no." Min Ho chuckled. "She showed me that there was more than just casual dating, that it could be worth it."

You laughed and he looked at you weirdly. "What?"

"I'm talking about real feelings and you are laughing?"

"No, I believe you are being sincere and it's real sweet. But it does not fit you at all." you still laughed.

His jaw clenched. "It might not have been that worth it asking you to be my girlfriend, after all."

That shut you up real quick. After a small apology, he invited you in his arms to cuddle before placing a soft peck on the top of your head. You squirmed in comfort.

"Do I have to third-wheel?" Q whined.

"Don't be like this, you have Florian." you assured but it didn't seem to do the trick.

"Yeah..."

Min Ho immediately noticed the shift in his voice. "How are things with him?"

"He's going through some stuff, but I'm here for him."

"That's good. I'm sure he's glad to have you around." you smiled warmly at him.

Having complained about third-wheeling barely two minutes ago, to Q's luck, Dae and Kitty came to join in the living room, skipping before he took her in his arms. Telling each other sweet 'good morning's, the remaining three of you grunted in annoyance.

"And now I am fifth-wheeling." Q muttered to himself.

Min Ho gave the couple the side eye. "It's too early to be this cheery."

"I am this cheery." Kitty affirmed as she and Dae went to the kitchen counter to prepare coffee for everyone. "Not only because I have the most perfect boyfriend in the world-"

"Lucky you." you said as you sat down with Min Ho behind you, rubbing your arms.

"Thank you?" he gasped, offended.

Kitty chuckled before continuing. "But it has also come to my attention that I am failing most of my classes. That means that if I don't do amazing on the finals, I will flunk out of school."

"How is this making you cheery?" you asked.

"Well, if I dwell the fact that I was considered super smart at home and here I can barely keep up, I will start sobbing."

You, on the other hand, had never been doing any better. Your aunt was proud of you for integrating the school perfectly, your uncle praised your grades in his class, you had friends, a boyfriend... This was all too good to be true. You started to doubt that it was going to last, especially with finals coming up so soon.

"We still have a week." Dae spoke. "We're going to make study plans and everyone will help you."

Min Ho shook his head. "I'm very busy and Y/N-"

"Everyone." Dae said in a stern tone. "Guys, Kitty and I are finally together. I'm not going to let her fail out of this school now."

"Well, I'm in. I'll help with chem." Q said.

You raised your hand. "I could ask my uncle for extra exercises in history." you suggested to which Kitty thanked you.

"She definitely needs to work on her Korean." Min Ho mumbled.

"What did you just call me?" Kitty asked angrily, immediately taking offense.

"Exactly." he deadpanned at her.

Dae assured her he'll be helping her with the rest. Being top student, he was the perfect tutor for her. Clinging your mugs of coffee together, you started to get ready afterwards. However, Min Ho did not let you go back to your room and grabbed you by the arm to kiss you.

"I'd love doing that, but I need to change."

He pouted but let go of you. "We can't have a moment to us in this dorm."

You could only laugh at him. You simply adored how much of a softy he was to you.

Tutoring Kitty was either easy or hard. It depended on how motivated she was and, most of the time, she was only discouraged.

"You've got 53%" you said sadly as you gave her back the sheet of paper.

Your uncle happily gave you exam practices for Kitty to study, but with this one being the fourth she did already, you were starting to feel like she was a lost cause. Plus, the library was fully packed since everyone was studying.

"Great." she grunted before dropping her head into her arms.

"It's four percent better than last time."

"And that's what's going to help me pass, yes."

She made a good point. You sprawled on your chair and sighed heavily with her. It looked as if it was the two of you who were failing. And Min Ho just had to confirm that when he sat with you with his Korean lesson books to take over Kitty's tutoring.

"Aren't you two adorable." he teased you and you stuck out your tongue at him. "I'm serious, you are cute."

"Ew." Kitty said in disgust.

"Not you. Y/N." he specified. "I believe it's time to work on your Korean now."

Kitty shook her head. "I am on the verge of dropping out myself. Give me five minutes."

He frowned before glancing at you. "I'm assuming history didn't go well."

"Nope." you chuckled. "I'm sure she'll get the hang of it... We just need to study more."

She let out a whine. "Study, study, study... this is all I've been doing today."

"Stop complaining, you asked us to help you." Min Ho said, frustrated.

He convinced her to get into studying Korean and you stayed with them, having nothing else to do. She started to get the hang of the the basics but it was still very bad. By the end of it, she was able to tell what were some verbs and such.

"Are you coming back to the dorm with me?" she asked while taking her bag to head out.

Min Ho held you by the waist as you walked. "Not today. I have prepared something very special for my girlfriend."

You looked away from him in an attempt to hide your blush. "Another surprise?"

"You can't have enough of them. Don't worry, I think you will like it a lot."

"I'll love it for sure if I'm with you."

Kitty groaned. "I think I preferred it when you were cussing each other out."

"Says the one who is too cheery when she's with Dae."

That shut her up and she parted ways with you, leaving Min Ho laughing with pride. You shook your head in disapproval.

"What? It wasn't even mean."

"Nothing. So, what's the surprise?"

He smirked. "You'll see."

You took a stroll around campus, hand in hand, and he eventually left the grounds to lead you somewhere. Just there, his chauffeur was waiting for you. You skeptically hopped in and he drove off. Being driven away when you didn't know the destination was usually a sign to run away. But you trusted Min Ho, maybe more than you should.

It wasn't even twenty minutes after that he pulled over in front of Han River. A typical date in Seoul. Getting off the car, Min Ho took your hand to help you out and you followed the trail while admiring the view.

"This is so cheesy." you laughed.

"Stop that, it's cute."

You snorted. "I'm sure you brought other girls here."

He smiled in shame. "Fair. But I didn't like any of them as much as you."

Your face became red. A couple of steps later, something popped in your mind. You grew tense and he felt it. As he halted his movements, he rubbed your shoulders while asking you what was wrong.

"What happened with Lulu?"

He gulped. "Should it matter?"

"Kind of."

He sighed and resumed to walking with you. "I went out with her the night after you literally saved my ass. We made out, sure, but I haven't talked to her since."

You nodded. "Okay, and was there anyone else?"

He shook his head violently. "I couldn't get you off my mind after I..." he paused and coughed. "Well, it doesn't matter."

You began to connect the dots. "You had a sex dream about me."

He coughed again. "No."

"So Q was right." you giggled. "How was it?"

"I did not have a sex dream about you."

"Awe, Min, don't be shy."

He looked away and you kept on laughing at him. He fastened his pace in silence. You called out for him and tried to catch up to his pace. He refused to look back at you. But once you did reach him, you were left speechless. On a picnic table, he had delicately placed candles and lights as well as some pillows for comfort. The best wasn't even that. It was the food. You spotted kimbap, japchae, tteokboki, kimchi... The amount was overwhelming.

"I'm... wow." you breathed out.

He walked up to you and hugged you from behind. "I thought we could use a night to ourselves."

You smiled widely. "This is perfect, no one has done something like this for me before."

"Expect to get more of this. Shall we?"

You sat down face to face and he helped you with serving yourself, asking what you wanted to taste first. Every single dish was delicious, you couldn't get enough of it. Min Ho watched you eat, satisfied with how the surprise turned out.

"When did you even cook this?" you asked, still having a bite of kimbap in your mouth.

"I used my chauffeur's kitchen and I missed my classes today."

Your face fell. "Min Ho..."

"It was my pleasure, darling."

You grabbed his hand and stroke it with your thumb. "I love it but I don't want you to fall behind in school because of me."

He gave you a reassuring smile. "I'm doing great in all of my classes, don't worry."

After eating, you went on with your evening stroll. Talking about everything and nothing, it eventually got to the point where he discussed about his parents with you. He understood the lifestyle of his mother but it was starting to get to him more nowadays. If there was one person he loved more than anything, it was her. So being apart from her for so long, he suffered. The relationship with his father wasn't as pleasant. He had pretty much cut off ties with him, not approving of his new way of living life after the divorce.

"Do you miss him?"

He thought for an instant. "Sometimes. But I miss the old him, not what he has become."

"I'm sorry."

He huffed. "Don't be. I'm better off without him."

A silence took over and he stopped you to observe the river. He wrapped his arms around you while you did the same around his torso.

"How did you do when they passed?"

The question took you by surprise, although it shouldn't have since you were already on topic. "I was empty inside. I lost a lot of friends who were sticking to me only for the wealth. I fought a lot with my aunt who didn't even plan on having children and she suddenly had this kid coming to live with her. It was..."

He saw you choke up on your words and brought his hands to your face to stop you from talking any more. "Hey. You don't have to tell me."

"You asked."

He chuckled. "Yeah, but it doesn't mean I wanted to make you think about it all over again and break in front of me."

You got up on your tiptoes – him being the giant he is – and you kissed him. While it was sweet and delicate at first, Min Ho took the lead quickly. Holding you tighter, he deepened the kiss, almost leaving you breathless.

"Shouldn't we get back to the dorm? Curfew is soon."

He didn't want to but you were right. You went back to the car and the driver drove you back to campus.

You didn't know whether it was you or him who started it, but both of you were needy. Walking in the dorm, you couldn't keep your hands off each other as you kept on stealing kisses every two seconds.

"Guys, we're busy here." Q deadpanned at the two of you as he pointed to Kitty with her school books.

Getting his coat off, Min Ho proceeded to help you with yours. "So are we."

Kitty groaned. "Well, don't do that here."

He gave her a look. "But you are all over Dae all the time here, yes."

You dragged him into his room before he would say another stupid thing. As soon ad the door closed, his lips were back on yours. He lost no time in helping get your vest off, both of you still in your school uniforms.

"You're so impatient." you said in-between the kisses.

"Maybe."

You found him shirtless seconds later and you stepped back to his bed. Laying you down, he topped you and started to work on your neck, sucking on your skin. He brushed your thigh gently before giving it a squeeze. You let out a gasp. You felt him smile against your skin. You brought up to your lips again and started to feel him up and you touched his abdomen. His efforts in looking his best truly paid off, you couldn't find him any hotter.

"You're so pretty." he rasped out.

"You're the pretty one."

"You're right."

You slapped him slightly and he laughed. "I think I love you."

You immediately froze. He pulled back slightly before stuttering incoherent words. You only blinked, which made Min Ho sweat. Why weren't you saying anything?

"Y/N?"

You pushed him off and placed yourself so you were laying facing one another. Putting your hand on his jaw, you stroke his cheek softly.

"I love you, too."

The first thing you saw was Min Ho's bare back. You could hear him breathe calmly as the rays of sunshine hit his skin perfectly. So... You slept in his room... Nothing too odd. You were his girlfriend, after all. You tried to get out of bed carefully to not waking him up. But it didn't work as he turned around and brought into his arms, stopping your from getting out of bed.

"Good morning." he mumbled.

"I didn't want to wake you."

"Too late." he said, stretching his arm out.

"Get ready, I'll go make you a cup of coffee."

He grinned and gave you a small kiss. "You're just too perfect, aren't you?"

You walked out of his room to let him change and freshen up and were startled when you saw Yuri sit with Kitty and Dae. You slowly went to make coffee, confused.

"Hi, Y/N." Yuri smiled at you.

"What is happening?"

"I came out to my mom, moved out of the penthouse, and here I am! Living with you!"

You perked an eyebrow at her. "You came out?"

"Yeah, it was hard, but I feel so much better."

"Oh my God, that's great! I'm so happy for you."

She smiled even more. "Thank you."

"Yuri started to help me with history. Want to join?" Kitty asked.

In the meantime of your hot beverage being ready, you sat with them and asked questions to Kitty. You were happy to see she was able to answer most of them easily.

"Timeline of the later Three Kingdoms." Yuri read out loud the memo card, laying on her back while her legs were slumped on the couch, in-between Dae and Kitty.

"890 to 936." she answered automatically.

"The first political state?" you asked in your turn.

"Gojoseon." she said in a broken Korean.

"Gojoseon." Dae corrected her and she repeated properly.

"What is happening?"

You hadn't even notice Min Ho coming out of the room and was now leaning on your seat, rubbing your shoulder softly. You put your hand on top of his and he gave you a quick smile before focusing on Yuri again.

"I moved in!" she answered happily, proceeding to sit up properly.

"What? Why?" he looked to all three of them. "Are you a throuple now?"

"No." they all answered.

"I'm gay." Yuri said and Min Ho seemed to be even more lost so she continued. "I came out to my mom, moved out of the penthouse. Scared, excited..."

"Wait." he stopped her. "You've been gay this whole time?"

"It's not a choice."

"I know, I mean..." he began to say but stopped mid-way. "So you and Dae... you were in a fake relationship?" They nodded. "So Kitty was right?"

Kitty smiled proudly. "I told you I know matchmaking."

His body tensed. "You're not mad at Dae? He lied, and lied, and lied..."

You tensed in your turn. Because you lied as well.

"I was mad." Kitty affirmed. "But then I forgave him, and Yuri, and Y/N-"

"Wow." he scoffed.

He retracted his hand from you and took a step back. You felt your heart pound as anxiety crept in, and not the kind you would feel when something good was about to happen. The kind you'd feel when something bad was coming.

"You're as trusting as my dad's third wife."

"Hey." Dae got defensive. "Kitty and I are good. Leave it alone."

"I'm not good."

The tone of his voice sent a shiver down your spine. At that point, he was ignoring your presence.

"You lied to me, too." he continued. "A lot. I wouldn't do that to a friend."

He slowly dared to glance at you and you gulped. You stood up next to him. "Min Ho..."

"Or someone I care about." he said more softly, though you could hear the pain. "I just wouldn't."

He left abruptly, shutting the door of his room harshly. Meanwhile, you felt the tears prick in your eyes. Things were just starting to be good for you, and you had to mess it all up.

"Finals." Yuri exhaled. "Makes everyone crazy."

You gave her a look but she shrugged and went back to asking Kitty questions. Feeling the need to get away from all of this, you went to get changed and left the dorm. A walk seemed to be exactly what you needed.

So why wasn't it doing anything? You felt nothing but emptiness as you walked by other students. You plugged in your earbuds to block out the outside world and spaced out, heading to nowhere precisely. You checked your phone after a while but you got nothing from Min Ho. You couldn't blame him for being mad at you, you were supposed to trust him the most. You trusted him the most. You were submerged with guilt and, as your mind came back to reality, you were standing in front of the administration of the school. You didn't even need to knock as your aunt had already opened the door of her office only from the sight of you in her window.

"Hey, I didn't know you'd stop by." she cheerfully greeted you but her smile dropped once she took in what state you were in. "Oh, dear. Come on in."

She offered you tea and even if you didn't feel like eating or drinking, you let her make a cup for you. She cleaned up her desk a little to make space and sat in front of you, waiting for you to speak.

"Can I stay over tonight?"

Her eyes softened. "Of course, anytime. Now, tell me what happened."

You took a deep breath. "I don't know. Things got complicated, I guess."

She nodded her head slowly. "I see. I won't tell you what to do but know that I'm always here for you if anything. Time will fix everything, I promise."

You huffed with a smile. "That's what they all say."

"Because it's true." she chuckled and then glanced at the clock in her office. "Your classes start soon. I'll make you a good meal for tonight."

Min Ho: I'm getting coffee with Dae. Do you want me to get you something?

You scoffed at the text. Although you were surprised he was the one to reach out first, this was not the text you thought he'd send.

Min Ho: You saw my message, I know it.

Y/N: I won't be at the dorm tonight, so no thanks.

Min Ho: Where are you?

Y/N: I'm fine.

Min Ho: I didn't ask how you were doing, idiot. I asked where you are.

Y/N: Are you still mad at me?

Min Ho: Yes..?

Y/N: Okay, then I'm not at the dorm to leave you space.

Min Ho: It's not because I'm mad that I don't worry about you. Where are you? I'm picking you up.

Y/N: Don't.

Min Ho: Please.

Y/N: It's only going to worsen things. You'll stay mad, it'll be awkward, and then we both won't be able to sleep.

Min Ho: We'll talk, I promise.

Y/N: Fine. I'm at my aunt's.

You got up from bed and went to the front door. Your uncle, still awake, watched you leave in silence.

"Be careful out there." he said before going back to reading his book.

"I will. Thank you for tonight, it was nice."

He gave you a smile and you left. You waited by the porch of your front door and saw a fancy car coming only a couple of minutes later. You went inside where Dae and Min Ho were seated, coffees in hands. Min Ho passed you an ice americano and you hummed as to thank him. The ride was, as you predicted, awkward as hell. Dae was fidgeting with the hem of his shirt in uneasiness and Min Ho was sipping on his drink every five seconds, visibly nervous.

And the walk to the dorm wasn't any better. As soon as you walked in, you announced you were going to bed. Min Ho immediately stopped you and asked Dae for some time alone with you. Finally just the two of you, you sat on the couch and he copied you.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he finally broke the silence.

You exhaled loudly. "That morning when Kitty ran away, Dae came to our room to talk with her and said it was fake. But then you opened the door, I was there, he didn't know because he left before he saw me. Then I asked Yuri about it and she begged me to keep it to myself."

He hummed. "Okay. I get it for back then because we both didn't like each other. But what about after?"

You shrugged. "It wasn't for me to tell you. I swear I just wanted to have nothing to do with all of it."

He took your hand in his. That's a good start.

"From now on, don't lie to me like this again."

You nodded and that's all it took for him to bring you into his embrace. You melted at the touch and engulfed your head in his shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

He hushed you. "It's okay. I might have overreacted."

You laughed in agreement. The rest of the evening went on smoothly. He invited you to stay with him for the night and he pulled his laptop to his bed so you could watch something together. Dae complained a few times about the volume and the giggles you would slip out every now and then. Other than that, you felt at peace. You were just content that things were back to normal, and you fell asleep soon after.

You groaned loudly as Yuri kept on blabbering about the talent show. To help Kitty get ten percent bonus on her exam, she gathered as many people as she could to do a traditional dance. That was the condition Lee put in place to boost the notes. And you were not left out of it.

"We have to help her, Y/N."

You played around with the food in your plate as another sigh left your mouth. "I don't know, Yuri."

"You'll get ten percent more, too."

You shook your head. "I already have excellent grades, I don't need bonuses."

"She's your friend."

"So is she yours, and you're already doing it. She doesn't need both of us."

She rolled her eyes at you. "The more, the better."

You then saw a guy from your English class walk to your table. Byungwon, if you remembered well. He used to go to school with you and Yuri during middle school. Apart from brief 'hi's and nods of acknowledgement, you hadn't talked to him in years.

"Can I sit here?" he smiled at you.

Yuri frowned. "Why?"

"My friends are at practice for the swimming team."

"I thought you were in the team as well." you said.

"Injured. I'm left alone."

Forming your mouth in a 'o' shape, you gestured for him to sit with you. "How have you been?"

"Great, apart from the injury. I haven't talked to you two in so long. I figured we could catch up." he beamed at you.

Yuri chuckled. "Yeah, we did draw apart with time. I figured you were living your new life well, you know? Part of the swimming team, girls all over you, good grades..."

He blushed. "You're making it seem bigger than it is. I could say the same for you two. You have quite grown well." He looked at you. "And you look great."

You felt the heat rush to your face, so you focused on your food instead, clearing your throat in the process. "You too." you mumbled.

Yuri's eyes flickered between him and you, a smirk slowly creeping on her face. She knew you used to like him, and so the opposite. Visibly, old feelings easily came back. Though she would have usually teased you about it, she rooted for your relationship with Min Ho. If anything, you were simply taken aback from Byungwon's sudden reappearance.

"You still like her." she teased the guy who instantly gulped.

"No."

You wanted to punch her just there and then. "Yuri."

She shook her head. "Or maybe not. But just so you know, she's taken now."

"I know." he said. "I simply want to catch up, that's all."

A couple of tables further from yours, Q was poorly trying to calm Min Ho down. The latter was fuming. All he could see was the sweet smile Byungwon was shooting at you and the giggles you let out with pink appearing on your cheeks. He knew you wouldn't do anything close to cheating on him, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to be worried about you leaving him for someone else. Adding the fact the two of you began your whole dynamic with hate, he was slightly worried you still had that kind of feeling towards him.

"Min Ho, they're just talking." Dae said, growing discouraged.

"I'm not jealous, I'm just saying that he doesn't need to be so close to her."

"He's only sitting next to her."

He pointed at you. "Did you see that? He offered her his drink!"

"Yeah..." Q sighed. "Not jealous."

Back to you and Yuri, she abruptly got up announcing practice for the talent show was about to start. She gave you an intense look and you knew what she was doing. It most likely was not time for practice but this was your opportunity to get away from this awkward situation.

"Right, we have to go." you coughed out.

"And I'll help you get ready for your date after." she added and your eyes grew bigger at her.

"Ah." Byungwon said, slightly disappointed. "You and Min Ho are real serious."

"They are." Yuri nodded. "Let's go. See you around!"

She crossed her arm with yours before you went out of the cafeteria. You could do nothing more but follow her lead.

"I swear I thought you were going to make him make a move on me."

She laughed. "I might not think Min Ho is the best guy to date, but I know you love him. Plus, it's not the first time I've seen Byungwon look at you like that."

"Really?"

"Yeah. But now, that means you have no choice but to participate in the fan dance with us."

You groaned in defeat. As much as you loved her for saving your ass, you also hated her.

"Hi, baby."

"Hey-"

You were cut short as Min Ho eagerly kissed you, long enough for people around to either giggle at you or make noises of disgust. It wasn't an innocent kiss either, he was going for it.

"I missed you." he said after pulling back but still holding your hand to walk with you to the auditorium.

"You saw me this morning."

"Not in front of swimmer guy."

Your eyes shut closed. "You saw that, the other day."

"Yeah." Min Ho said as a matter-of-factly. "And I did not appreciate him eyeing my girlfriend like she is some meat."

You patted his shoulder. "Awe, is my little pup possessive?"

He glared at you. "I thought we agreed on stopping with this nickname. Makes us sound like we are furries or something."

You shrugged. "I still like it. But thank Yuri, she's the one who saved me from him that day."

He kissed the top of your head. "Glad to know she's on our side. Now, how are you feeling?"

"Ashamed, depressed, and on the verge of crying."

He frowned. "I'm not sure if you are referring to your feelings towards the wait for your grades or the talent show."

"Can't it be both?"

He laughed and rubbed your hand softly with his thumb. "You'll do great, for both of them."

While he was not allowed to, Min Ho insisted profoundly in coming with you backstage. Saying he didn't want to watch the whole thing and only your performance so you could leave together in advance, he was only disappointed when you sent him back to his seat with Dae.

You walked up to Madison who was crouched next to a machine. "Hey, what are you doing?"

She squealed. "Fireworks, for my next performance."

"You perform twice?"

"Yeah, K-pop."

You rolled your eyes and gave her the fans. Of course she had to do a K-pop dance. You finished up to get ready by fixing parts of your hanbok.

"Yuri-ah."

You weren't sure what Principal Lim was doing backstage to run to her daughter, especially since they hadn't talked since Yuri moved in with you.

"I want you to come back home." she continued but Yuri only gave her the eyeroll. "I'll talk to Alex. I'll make sure you can get to know him."

"Alex?" she said in confusion. "Alex, who?"

Principle Lim froze. "Oh, I just assumed that Kitty-"

"Wait, Alex is my brother?"

And here was another drama happening right in front of you. You learned your lesson to not get involved, so you went to the other girls to ignore what was happening. It wasn't even a minute later that you were up to go on stage. You wanted to bury yourself alive from how embarrassed you were. Not because you were ashamed of your culture, but you weren't a dancer. This was, in no way, one of your strengths.

"How could you not tell me?" Yuri spoke as the performance began.

You tried your best to block them out but they weren't so quiet.

"I thought Alex was my brother and that my mom was the one who was pregnant." Kitty explained. "It wasn't until we snuck out of detention that day and went to Lee's house-"

"Wait, you've known since detention?"

You subtly shushed them and went on to your next move. They seemed to get the message and you were happily back to focusing on your dance.

"How could you hide this from me?"

You mentally cursed them out.

"It wasn't my place to-"

"To be honest?

Madison groaned. "Guys, I'm trying to focus."

This might have been one of the few times you were thankful to her. But your friends being themselves, they continued to bicker.

"I wasn't not honest, I just-"

"Lied by omission?" Yuri interrupted her again.

"You lied all semester about being with Dae on purpose, and I got past it, and now we're friends."

"We were friends." Yuri corrected her.

And with Kitty being Kitty, she clumsily stepped on her robes and tripped, knocking off the firework machine. Fire came out and the whole auditorium stood up in panic, Kitty first as the fabric of her hanbok caught on fire. She stepped back, panic across her face as she stared at the flame. You looked from afar, worried about her and unsure if you should put yourself in danger as well to help her.

You got your answer quickly when you saw your boyfriend running to her. He took his jacket off as he help her sit down on the ground, and crouched down while putting the fire out. She squirmed for a bit until there was no more flame. You observed them as he helped her relax and something seemed off to you. You weren't exactly sure what, but you knew it made you feel sick. It wasn't until Dae arrived that Min Ho went to you, hugging you tightly.

"Are you okay? You're not hurt?"

You didn't hug him back and only nodded. "I'm fine."

He placed his hands on your cheeks. "This girl is so clumsy, she could have put all of you in grave danger."

You cleared your throat. "Yeah, luckily, you saved her."

You pushed his hands away and walked further from the stage. He caught up with your pace and took your hand.

"Hey, are you sure you're good?"

You didn't know what to say. You only stared at him in silence, feeling the lump in your throat growing bigger and bigger.

Copyright © 2023 skzhua. All rights reserved.

#xo kitty #xo kitty fanfic #xo kitty x reader #xo kitty minho #xo kitty minho x reader #xo kitty min ho #xo kitty min ho x reader #min ho x reader #sang heon lee #sang heon lee x reader

[dayoldtea]

Joe passionately rambling on about Y/N for six mins and thirty-four seconds video

Pairing: Joe Keery x Actress!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Category: Fluff. That's all.

Warning: None

Summary: Steve Harrington and Penelope Carter did not stay together at the end of the fourth season of Stranger Things, and the internet has a lot to say about that. In contrast, to warm the hearts of Stenny's fans, one fan shares a six mins and thirty-four second compilation of Joe Keery passionately rambling on about you, his girlfriend, and coincidentally Penny Carter herself.

"Joe literally pinched himself upon seeing Y/N on set for the first time." Matt Duffer told during an interview with Variety in June 2022. "You remember that, right?"

Ross Duffer, sitting next to his brother, laughed as he shook his head, arms crossed over his chest. "There's no forgetting it." He joked. "They sat next to each other in the script room, and you could just see how nervous he was. It was a really fun thing to watch."

Matt nodded, humming as he did so.

"Yeah, I think that's why we can say that we were kind of prepared for the negative fan reaction regarding Steve and Penny's tragic ending in season four, you know?" He added. "We knew from the beginning that it would be hard to convince the audience that Steve and Nancy should be something when we had Joe Keery in love with Y/NY/L/N since the first time he saw her."

To say that the internet was in mourning would be an understatement.

The fourth season of Stranger Things had premiered some time ago, and for fans of the TV show, that was synonymous with hope. This time, Steve Harrington and Penelope Carter will finally be together.

The development from friends to lovers between the characters was something that fans had longed for since the first season, which unfortunately did not happen. Penelope received a tragic ending in Upside Down, and the scene in which her bloodied body was embraced by a miserably distraught Steve had generated thousands of disgruntled tweets and videos on TikTok — most of them featuring puffy-eyed girls, tears streaming down their cheeks as the scene in question played in the background.

Steve and Penelope hadn't gotten the ending they deserved, but you and Joe were the protagonists of another story, this one being in real life, and knowing that you two had been together for more than four years mended a little the crack left in the hearts of Stenny fans.

One video in particular, accumulating a little over 1,5 million views on YouTube, had been shared by a Twitter account along with the hashtag JusticeForStenny, on the rise since the last episode of the fourth season was aired:

@stennylover: steve and penelope didn't get a chance to be together and I know everyone here is heartbroken about it, but here is a compilation of joe passionately rambling on about yn for six mins and thirty-four seconds to warm your hearts

The video in question begins by showing the title text in white capital letters on a black background, the instrumental of Paper Rings by Taylor Swift playing in the background:

Joe Keery passionately rambling on about Y/NY/L/N for six mins and thirty-four seconds straight.

cut

The first recording shows Joe standing in front of a white background during the Glamour's friendship test, arms behind his back and eyes fixed on the floor. He was wearing a plain black shirt, the length of his hair a little shorter than that sported by Steve Harrington indicating that he was preparing for another role.

"I— I was just mesmerized the first time I saw her, honestly." He shakes his head slowly, his lips curving into a comforting smile. "She was visibly excited to be on set. It was like it was her first time in an environment like that, and it was really adorable to see her so excited about every little thing that happened." He said before looking at the camera, the smile not abandoning his lips. "When we had scenes together— which happened a lot, I used get so fucking nervous." Joe laughed, his cussing censored by a beep. "I was constantly getting my lines wrong because of that, and she's always been so thoughtful and patient about it, you know? Which only made my situation worse, actually." He joked, scratching the back of his neck as his eyes meet the floor once again. "She would always ask me if I needed a break, because, you know, she genuinely thought that these mistakes were because of fatigue or something, when internally I was like, 'Oh, I'm fine, I'm sorry about that, I'm just, you know, thinking of a way to ask you out on a date.'"

The video then cuts to the Wired autocomplete interview granted by Joe and Gaten Matarazzo.

Gaten is holding the styrofoam board while the phrases with "is joe keery" remain hidden under white stickers.

"Okay, so let's see what we have here." Joe hums as he pulls out the first sticker. "Is Joe Keey," he begins, "Y/N/Y/L/N's boyfriend in real life?"

"I love the fact that your first question has to do with Y/N." Gaten joked.

"Yeah, I was about to say that, man." Joe played along, leaning forward with one hand on his knee. "But yes, I am Y/N's boyfriend in real life."

"Title he's most proud of." Gaten punctuated, raising his index finger.

Joe clicked his tongue, a smug smile adorning the corner of his lips. "I mean, my girlfriend is Y/N/Y/L/N." He makes a point of stressing your name as if no one knows. "You don't meet many guys this lucky."

Gaten contracted his face in a fake expression of disgust, shaking his head before looking directly at the camera.

"We are still on a mission to find out how much he is paying Y/N."

The next cut is from an interview of Joe to GQ Spain where he was responding to some comments from fans on the internet.

"Youtube." Joe announced before the edit added a lofi song along with a video of Stranger Things fan comments on a scene of Steve and Penelope in the second season, then focusing on one specific user. "I honestly don't know how Steve doesn't realize that Penelope has a crush on him. Is he an idiot?" He reads as the comment remains on the screen.

The video then turns back to Joe.

"I mean, yeah?" He laughs, the video returning to the commentary session as Joe's lines were added as a response along with a typing sound. "I see a lot of Y/N—my girlfriend, in Penelope, you know? Not just because she plays her, obviously, but also because they're both so smart and have such a gentle soul that it's almost like they're magnetic, so when someone asks me what the similarities are between me and Steve, I make it clear that I'm a little smarter when it comes to girls, because I would never let someone like Y/N or Penelope get away. Thank you."

The video then cuts to an interview of Joe on The Tonight Show with Jimmy Kimmel.

"Can we— Can we talk about Y/N/Y/L/N?" Jimmy asked as he leaned over his desk. The audience whistled and clapped loudly as soon as your name was mentioned, making Joe smile. "I mean, we all love her here, and we know you've been together for years— over three years, right?"

"Yeah, that's right." Joe squeaked, shaking his head. "We kind of got tired of just being on screen, you know?" He made a joke, laughing at the thunderous reaction from the audience.

"Man, this is so cool!" Jimmy exclaimed genuinely, causing Joe to nod his head and mutter an almost inaudible "thank you." "And how was the preparation for you two for this fourth season? If I'm correct, the recordings were interrupted due to the pandemic, right?"

"Oh, yes, unfortunately we had that setback and that's why there was a significant delay compared to the other seasons." Joe explained.

"And you two were together during that time?" Jimmy inquired curiously, arching his eyebrows. "Practicing the script together and all that stuff?"

Joe crossed his legs, interlacing his fingers over his lap.

"Well, we did a lot of fun stuff during those months, and of course discussing the script ended up being one of them, but we also kind of took that time to disconnect a little bit, you know?" Joe replied, "We cook together, we write songs together, we learn about gardening on YouTube…" He enumerated with his fingers, "just a bunch of cool stuff."

"Oh, that sounds amazing." Jimmy said in an impressed tone. "Just a couple discovering new hobbies, right?"

"Yeah, but Y/N, she's just— she's just a lot smarter and more talented than me, you know?" Joe said amidst a laugh. "She can act, she can write, she can sing, she can knit, she can read a book about what are the right garden pots for each kind of seed and suddenly become a big Wikipedia on the subject…" he rambled, gesticulating excitedly, "It's amazing. She is amazing. I'm one hundred percent sure she could build a rocket from scratch if she wanted to."

"Wow." Jimmy smiled, exchanging a quick glance with the audience before facing Joe again. "So I guess we can say you're a little bit in love, right?"

Joe blushes, his eyes dropping to the floor before turning to Jimmy. "Yeah, I kind of am."

#joe keery x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harringto x fem!reader #joe keery x you #steve harrington fluff #famous reader

[astranva]

Andrew Garfield talking about his girlfriend for 8 minutes video

Word Count: 1.2k

Category: Fluff

Warning: None

Summary: A fan makes a YouTube video of Andrew Garfield talking about you for 8 minutes straight.

..

When the news of you and Andrew dating got out three years ago, fans and the media had a field day.

It wasn’t because you were anyone famous—quite the opposite. Being someone with a normal job, you and Andrew had basked in finally going outside as a couple, and it was how adorable the pictures looked that had everyone freaking out.

One picture was of you laughing, Andrew’s arms around you from behind as he wrapped his coat around you as he wore it, a grin on his face.

Another picture was of you looking at him, eyes set on one another with his hands tangled in your hair, while the other was of him kissing you and despite the photo not being one in high quality, everyone could still see the small smirk he had as you kissed.

It was no surprise when fans posted edits of you together, and although the content they got was minimal, considering your lack of presence in interviews and public press, it was always a field day when you appeared beside him on a red carpet or when you both did as little as grab yourselves some coffee.

Andrew Garfield talking about his girlfriend y/n for 8 minutes straight

The 8-minute and 29-second video started with lofi music over an advertisement for marvel hoodies that everyone seemed to promote, before a sound of glitching television sounded and the video started.

The video started with Andrew and Zendaya’s Actor on Actor interview when they first started talking about Zendaya’s performance on Euphoria.

“Makes me want to cry. I didn’t feel like there was any acting. It felt like you were living through something in such an authentic way,” Andrew said, “And I remember I watched episode 5 with Y/N—with my girlfriend, and she was just like, ‘Andy, can you check up on Zendaya?’”

Zendaya smiled, being her usual self who got flustered at any compliment or praise, “She did text me that night, I remember.”

“She did,” he nodded, “She was so heartbroken over the episode.”

The video then moved to show Andrew during his Wired Autocomplete interview, the foam board in his hand as he took off the sticker that hid the question.

“Does Andrew Garfield sing in Tick, Tick…Boom?” He read, “So, Andrew Garfield does sing in Tick, Tick…Boom, yes. Thank you,” he answered, “I worked very, very closely with an amazing vocal coach, Liz Caplan, and all of Lin Manuel Miranda’s amazing musical direction team. They enabled me to open my voice up to the point where I could honor Jon’s songs and feel confident enough to belt them out as he always did when he was doing his one-man show,” he nodded slight, “It was a privilege to be able to learn a skill that I’ve always wanted to attain but my girlfriend wouldn’t really agree,” he chuckled, looking at the camera, “Y/N’s had enough of my singing, because every time I’d learn something new, it’d be the only thing I’d be doing around our home and she’s incredible, she has a job that she needs to focus on and rest from, but I was always there singing and annoying her,” he laughed, “She’s a gem for putting up with me.”

Another clip then played as Andrew read Buzzfeed’s thirst tweets, headphones on his ears.

“Andrew Garfield if you see this on your secret Twitter account, I’m free this weekend if you want to get lunch or drinks or something, just let me know. If you want to do it earlier, I can do dinner during the week,” he chuckled as he read the tweet, “But I’m usually busy before six,” he finished with a laugh, leaning back in his seat, “I love that. That’s very, very—I like hyper-vigilance. I like specificity of plans,” he said, “But I’m going to have to give you a rain check on that because I’m actually busy on the weekend, unless you want to join in on my girlfriend and I’s date, then it’s fine by me,” he laughed, “I can do lunch during the week though, but we’re going to have to have that at Y/N’s office because that’s where you’ll usually find me having my lunch.”

The clip then moved to Andrew on the Ellen show, getting asked about Spider-Man: No Way Home, and having to lie to people.

“Who knew? Beside your agent, who knew that you were doing this? I mean, how hard is that? To keep it to—I mean, your family knew?” Ellen asked him.

“Yeah, my dad, my brother, and my mother at the time,” he answered with a smile, “Yeah, just kind of us. It was fun to keep it secret,” he grinned, “Because you know when you’re planning a surprise birthday party for someone, and then you’re like, tell me, you know I hate surprises, but I can see it on your face that you’re just like ‘I’m not gonna tell you’,” he shook his head with his wide grin, “So it felt like I was part of organizing a surprise birthday party for a bunch of people whom I knew would appreciate it.”

“Did your girlfriend know?”

Beaming even more, “Y/N had no idea,” he said, laughing, “And—lying to the media, to the fans, that was easy and fun, but lying to my girlfriend has got to be—it was one of the most agonizing and terrible things I have ever done.”

“You lied to her for what? Two years?”

“Technically, it was a year and a few months,” Andrew pointed.

“And how—how did she take that? I’d be pretty offended.”

He laughed, shaking his head, “She wasn’t, she wasn’t. I knew she’d appreciate it because she knows how I feel about my experience with the character, and it was—I’ll tell you something,” he sat up, smiling, “It was worth every single moment where I had to tell her I was shooting for another movie when I saw her reaction when we went to watch it together,” he said, “We had to watch it again because she couldn’t really focus after I was on screen,” he laughed, “But yeah, it—it was definitely hard having to lie to her, and it definitely made her tease me about trust for a while, but she supported me throughout without even knowing.”

The clip then moved to the last one, being from a recent interview with GQ of 10 things Andrew can’t live without.

In a t-shirt and sporting a full beard, he held a silver necklace with a compass on it.

“This is a necklace with a compass on it,” he said, holding the necklace in his hands before the camera zoomed on it before it showed him again, “My girlfriend Y/N gave this to me in a period where I needed to trust the direction I was going, even if I didn’t know where I was going,” he chuckled, looking at it, “It’s become such a symbol of our relationship because in a way, to me, it feels like it navigates us both back to where we have always met, toward our common interests and our differences that initially made us attracted to each other. But she’s always been very persistent on her support for me and my journey in my career, and my journey as a person, so this necklace is just a reminder from her that the direction I’m headed in is always one I can find value in,” he smiled, “My relationship with Y/N is very essential to me. She’s just—She’s truly my person, and this necklace is a symbol of the deep connection we have with each other.”

#andrew garfield #andrew garfield imagine #andrew garfield blurb #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield fanfiction #andrew garfield fluff #andrew garfield interview

[writingquestionsanswered]

How many words is too many? I have written over 80,000 words already and don't have a computer to edit properly. I've already decided to split the story among multiple books. But how many should each be? I am aiming for a basic novel to a little bit longer, but as a first-time author, I don't want to write something too long and not get anyone to read it.

Finding Your Story's Target Word Count

"How many words is too many" depends on what you're writing. Every type of story and every genre has a different word count range, and the specific ranges vary depending on who you ask. Here are some general ranges you can target...

Story Type:

Short Stories - 1,000 - 5,000 words Novellas - 20,000 to 50,000 words Novels - 50,000 - 110,000 words Epic Novel - 110,000 words and up (though these are rare)

Age Category:

Middle Grade novels - 25,000 - 40,000 words Young Adult novels - 45,000 - 80,000 words New Adult novels - 60,000 - 85,000 words Adult novels - 65,000 - 110,000

Genre:

Literary novels - 80,000 to 110,000 words Romance novels - 50,000 to 80,000 words Fantasy novels - 90,000 to 110,000 words Mystery novels - 70,000 to 90,000 words

It's important to remember that a book series isn't one long novel chopped up into smaller books. Each book in a series needs to have its own story arc. In other words, a beginning/inciting incident, middle/rising action, and end/climax and denouement. That said, you will need to look at the completed story and identify the natural story arcs that exist within it to figure out where each book should end and the next book should begin.

Something else to consider is your publishing goal. If you plan on pursuing traditional publishing, you might look into writing an in-depth summary of the entire story and working with a developmental editor or book coach to figure out how to best divvy up the story between books. That way, you'll ensure that book one is as strong as it can be, which will increase the likelihood of getting a book deal. After that, if your book sells well enough to warrant the publishing of the next book, you will have some guidance on where to go from there.

If you're planning to self-publish, you can still look into working with an editor or book coach, or even a critique partner, or you can just make the best decision you're able to about how to divide each book. Again, what matters is that each part of the story centers on its own individual story arc.

Something else to consider: if you have a really long story that you want to chop up into pieces rather than individual books, you might look into posting it as a serial on a site like Wattpad, Kindle Vella, Ream, or similar services. Serialization allows you to take a long story and chop it up into sizeable pieces, such as "episodes," and then you don't have to worry so much about dividing it up into books with their own individual story arcs.

One final consideration: Not having the ability to edit properly is not an excuse to publish an unedited work of fiction. No one wants to read an unedited story, even if it's chopped up into pieces. If you want to publish this story, whether online, traditionally, or self-published, you need to find a way to edit it properly and make sure you're putting a tight and polished version of the story out into the world.

Here are some additional links:

Self-Editing Tips Editing Tips Ten Ways to Cut Your Word Count

••••••••���••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[fortheloveofwonderland]

Rusty | Chapter 1 | S.R

Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - When you find a handsome cowboy in need of assistance at the side of the road you make the decision to help him, despite the personal risk.

A/N - just pretend for me that the episode Rusty took place before Believer and 300.

Paring - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - some direct quotes taken from 15.07 Rusty, vague mentions of the events in 13.22 Believer and 14.01 300, depiction of injuries, Spencer’s intrusive thoughts, swearing.

WC - 6.5k

Chapter 1 - Wanted Dead or Alive

He’d watched the sun ebb across the sky, from where it began at its midday position directly overhead, scoring laboriously down, not impeded by a cloud in the expanse of blue. 

He witnessed it leisurely recede across the stratosphere, edging lower and lower on its slow descent towards the horizon. With each passing hour the heat dwindled, the sweat that had gathered on his temples and forehead was drying and crusting against his skin. 

The earth beneath him started to cool, unhurriedly, or perhaps he just got used to the temperature which seeped through the layers, beneath the denim of his shirt, further permeating his t-shirt until it scorched the skin of his back. 

The black stetson, which was originally used to cover his eyes from the assault of the sun, was now resting on his chest. 

It started growing darker around a half hour ago at his estimate and it wouldn’t be long before the darkness encompassed him, literally but maybe even figuratively too. 

Maybe out here on this isolated stretch of desert miles outside of town, would be where former FBI

Supervisory Special Agent Doctor Spencer Reid would meet his end. 

His heavy and tired eyes fluttered. He’d tried to fight it for hours now, desperate to stay awake in case a car passed by on the baron road. In all the hours he laid there, not a single one had. And now it was getting dark, the likelihood of a car even seeing him from the road was slim. 

He gave over to it, closing his eyes as his fingers drummed against the dusty ground beneath him. He was taken back to a conversation of years passed, he could practically hear the thrum of the jet's engine as she spoke. 

“All this talk of alternate realities, where do you think you’d be in a parallel universe? You know, one of your imagined futures?” Jennifer tucked the blanket tighter around her body, the BAU jet’s AC up high. 

Spencer closed his book while his eyebrows furrowed in curious contemplation at his friend's question. 

“I don’t know.” He shook his head lightly. 

“Come on,” she gave him an almost knowing look. “If you weren’t an FBI Agent, what would you do?”

Spencer inhaled through his nose, the cool air tickling his sinuses before puffing the breath back out. 

He glanced over his shoulder, then over JJ’s to check no one else was within ear shot. 

“Promise not to laugh…?” He asked and she nodded slowly with a twitch at her lip. “A cowboy.” 

He could still see the look of amusement coupled with confusion at his admittance. The way she couldn’t quite contain her smile, but also the way her forehead crinkled. 

“A cowboy?” She repeated, as though doing so might help her make sense of his words. 

“Yeah. I’d, uh, you know, have some horses, a few cattle; be surrounded by nature.” A slightly dreamy look washed over him. 

Even now laying in the dirt as the sun set that same smile appeared on his grossly chapped lips. Even as his mind succumbed to the idea that he was to die out here, he couldn’t hold back. 

Since he was a little boy he’d been oddly fascinated by cowboys and the old west. He was just five years old the first time his mother had read him The Log of a Cowboy, a nineteen-oh-three novel by Andy Adams. 

The story followed the journey of young Tommy Moore, who is helping drive three thousand circle-dot longhorns along the Great Western Cattle Trail from Brownsville, Texas to Montana. It was written, he discovered at a later age, as Adams' response to unrealistic cowboy novels that were being penned at the time. 

Spencer had clung to the normalcy of it. He’d never had a regular life, and knew most likely that he never would given his unusually high IQ. 

Something about that tale had stuck with him his whole life. He kept the idea at the back of his mind, wondering if one day, once he retired, he might seek to find a piece of that which was spoken of in Adams' story.

“And what would you do with cattle?” JJ’s lip was still twitching, curling up a little at the corner as she imagined her straight-laced, suit-wearing best friend as a cowboy.

“You know, look at ‘em, pet ‘em…I hadn’t really thought about that. But I’ll figure it out.” He shrugged. 

“Wow, I was…I was not expecting that.” She sat back in her chair, nodding somewhat appeasingly. A part of her could picture it, no matter how far-fetched the concept seemed. 

After everything Spencer had dealt with in his life, maybe being a cowboy was the change of pace he so sorely needed. 

He’d gone on to tell her how he envisioned the team there, even in his parallel universe they were still special to him, just as close as they were now. He spoke of how JJ ran a flower shop on Hickory Street with the boys helping out after school. Will was also there, an old-timey sheriff who protected the townspeople from trouble. 

Rossi ran the saloon, where most of said trouble occurred. Penelope had a sanctuary for wounded animals, Alvez was a rancher. Simmons was a blacksmith while Tara and Emily owned the only hotel in town. 

They were all happy in this timeline. Apart from the odd bar fight at Rossi’s, his make believe town was safe from all the evils of the world. He and his friends could live out simple lives, not to be perturbed by serial killers and rapists and the like. 

But it was all conjecture, an innocent fantasy created in Spencer’s head of what he imagined his life could have been like. But in reality he was an agent of the law, he’d taken an oath to protect and serve. His alternate universe was nothing more than that. 

Until it wasn’t. 

The final straw, the last nail in the coffin of his illustrious career, was Benjamin Merva. After nearly dying at the hands of the cult leader, he knew it was the end for him. 

With Merva’s blade at his throat, he remembered thinking, I can’t do this anymore. Two weeks later he stood in Emily Prentiss’ office handing her his resignation. 

It briefly crossed his mind to teach full time. He’d been working more and more at Marlborough over the last few years and they’d always told him if he ever decided to leave the BAU there was a permanent position for him there.

But the thought had been short lived, barely a blip on his radar. And somehow he circled back to that conversation with JJ a few months prior to his abduction by the cult. 

None of his former teammates could wrap their heads around the idea of Doctor Spencer Reid moving to live on the outskirts of Bandera, a small town fifty three miles outside of San Antonio, Texas. 

He spent nearly his entire life savings on a ranch with almost sixty acres of land. It consisted of a single story wooden lodge in which he would live, fitted with a wrap-around porch for which he pictured himself relaxing in a rocker whilst watching the sunset over the rolling hills in the distance. It included a large barn, outhouse and stables, as well as a second, smaller lodge which was also habitable. 

He equipped his own lodge minimally, a couch, a bed, a desk, a wardrobe and some bookshelves. He had the bare minimum kitchen appliances due to his inability to cook and his unwillingness to learn. 

He brought a whole new closet full of clothes more appropriate for the setting. Crisp, pressed shirts were replaced by denims, flannels and plain tees, his converse and dress shoes were tossed in lieu of sturdy work and riding boots. 

On behalf of a car, he brought a horse, a beautiful three year old, blue roan American Quarter Horse named Willow and to begin with purchased two cattle.

Now two years later he had four more cattle and two more horses. These two were stallions, both American Quarters, one black named Franklin and one brown called Wilbur. 

Somewhere not too far away was the sound of hooves padding around in the dirt and the occasional huff of impatience from the large beast. Spencer’s eyes opened again and he cautiously rolled his head to the side in the dust. His eyes met the cloven hooves and thick blue-grey legs of his trusty steed. 

“Willow,” he spoke, causing another huff of air to leave her mouth. “A dog, I should have gotten a dog. Lassie would be of much better use right now.” 

Willow cantered around him, as though frustrated herself that they were still here after all these hours. She’d nudged him a few times in his ribs with her muzzle, silently asking her owner what was going on. 

This was supposed to be a safer alternative to working at the BAU. After almost having his hyoid bone claimed by Merva he’d decided he’d put himself in harm's way for long enough. 

But upon travelling back to town after taking Willow for a morning saunter into nearby Pipe Creek, he’d come across a wild horse at the side of the road. 

The mare didn’t appear, on first glance, to be injured in any way but she was certainly a little skittish as he approached. He simply wanted to make sure she was okay before going on his way. 

She was a flaxen and elegant beauty. Her chestnut-red coat billowed like a flame under the blazing sun and her golden-blonde mane like a wild halo as she galloped around in haste. 

As he neared her on Willow’s back, his own steed seemed to agitate the other and she started to buck and neigh in fright. Not to be easily perturbed he tried to calm her with a series of “whoa girls,” and gentle pats of her back. 

But then the wild horse let out a piercing sound, her back legs lifting effortlessly off of the ground and kicking Willow in the neck. 

Willow herself had bucked at the impact, her front legs rising. Unprepared, he hadn’t been holding her reins and one foot hung at her side out of its stirrup, causing Spencer to slide back on her saddle. 

He quickly tried to grab hold of something but coordination had never been his strong suit. It had taken him months worth of lessons to even be able to ride a horse and although he was an efficient rider now, it hadn’t improved his motor skills. 

And so he slid, and he continued to slide as Willow raised herself on her haunches until she was almost vertical. His one foot was still in the stirrup, and as he fell his knee twisted with force, the same knee he’d been shot in so many years ago. 

He swore he felt the tendons ripping beneath his skin and he screamed out in pain whilst trying to dislodge his foot. Once freed he flew to the ground, back slamming into the dirt with a thud and a groan. 

He glanced up, pain searing through his body as Willow lowered herself back to the earth. The second horse was galloping wildly, still screeching out in fear. Willow approached it and Spencer groaned out, not wanting his own steed to be hurt by this out of control creature.

As expected, the wild horse bucked at Willow again but Willow trotted out of her way this time. Spencer slithered a hand out into the dirt, clicking his fingers at his mare to come to his aid. But instead of his own horse, it garnered the attention of the wild beast who suddenly ran at him with a fearsome gait. 

He heard the bone in his arm crunching under the weight of the creature's heavy hoof as it galloped over his outstretched limb. He screamed loudly, the sound getting no further than the lonesome desert and petering out into nothing. 

If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? 

If Spencer Reid screams out in pain in the desert and no one is around to hear him, is he going to die alone?

He still had his old cell phone, he only kept it at Penelope’s insistence at being able to get in touch with him, check he was doing okay living the life of a hermit. He only used it to speak with his old team and as such, didn’t often take it out with him. 

Right now it was sitting on his kitchen counter, next to his empty coffee mug and the book he’d been reading over breakfast. And now due to the oversight, he would no doubt die out here.

Willow trotted a little closer, bowed her head near to the ground and nudged Spencer in the ribs again, as if this might make him miraculously stand up and take her home. 

“I’m trying,” he grumbled. ���Shoulda got a dog. Man’s best friend, that’s what Alvez always said.” 

Willow simply nudged him again and he rolled his tired and sore eyes. 

Gritting his teeth, he decided to try and sit again. He braced his forearms against the ground, trying to turn a blind eye to the pain that rippled through his left extremity at the small movement. There was almost certainly a bone broken, maybe more than one. 

Attempting to ignore the way the pain spread up and down his arm, causing a fire to burn through his entire upper body, he pushed himself against the dirt in an attempt to sit up right. The throbbing in his arm combined with the swell of discomfort down his spine made another booming groan erupt from his lungs and he moved no more than a few inches off the ground before, panting with the exertion, he fell back against the dirt.

Even if he was to get into a sitting position, he had no doubts that he wouldn’t make it any further. Without looking he knew his knee was swollen, ballooned up so much it was now pressing uncomfortably against the inside of his jeans. He wouldn’t be able to walk even if he could stand. 

“Well, Willow, I guess this is the end of the road.” He closed his eyes, folding his good arm across his chest and leaving the other in the dirt at his side. “It’s ironic really, all those years at the BAU, all those times I thought I might die. This is not how I expected to meet my death.”

He felt oddly resided to this fate, almost feeling some kind of twisted relief. There really was no point in panicking, there was nothing he could do. 

May as well lean into it, let it happen. 

Keeping his eyes closed he breathed out through his nose, accepting that this was the way his life came to an end. They’d probably never even find his body and if they did it would be too scavenged by vultures to make a positive ID. Probably for the best, he couldn't imagine Garcia or JJ or any of the others having to identify his decomposed and ravaged remains.

He felt himself drifting swiftly, the heat and lack of hydration making him implausibly sleepy. He didn’t fight it, he let the tiredness wash over him. But before he could succumb entirely, his ears pricked at a sound off in the distance. 

His eyes shot open once more and he tried to turn his head towards the road beyond the desert. If he wasn’t mistaken, he swore he heard the sound of tires on the gritty asphalt.

***

It was getting dark and you felt your eyes growing increasingly heavier. You’d been driving for hours, days in fact, stopping only for gas and to stock up on snacks and energy drinks. 

Thinking of which, you loosened one hand from the steering wheel and reached blindly for the can sitting in the cup holder. Your hand wrapped around the lukewarm metal cylinder and brought it to your lips without taking your eyes off of the road. 

The liquid was warmer than the can itself and you grimaced as it trickled down your throat. Grumbling under your breath you replaced the can in the cup holder and wiped your mouth with your sleeve. 

You were heading for the border via desert roads and inconspicuous towns. You needed to lay low until you reached Mexico where you could keep your head down, keep your nose close to the ground. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, things weren’t meant to end this way. Your plan had gone wrong somewhere along the line and now you had to keep driving, until you reached your destination. 

You were tired to your bones, the dull ache from driving countless miles seeping deep into every muscle. But you couldn’t stop. You had the push through and keep going no matter how exhausted you were. 

You found yourself on a long stretch of desert road after passing through a small town, its signage declaring it Pipe Creek, Texas. The AC rattled through the car, almost blocking out the hum from the radio. 

You couldn’t afford to use a GPS system, if you knew where you were others could know where you were too. You’d brought an old paper map early into your journey and if your bearings were correct you should be passing through the town of Bandera within a few miles. 

You stifled a yawn and despite your better judgement, took another sip of the warm energy drink. It wasn’t warding off the tiredness, only making your heart thump heavily and a little erratically in your chest.

You stifled yet another yawn, eyes closing for a fraction of a second longer than was safe but the road thus far had been desolate. 

However, upon opening your eyes there was suddenly a large and imposing creature standing several feet in front of your speeding car. 

Your eyes grew wide and you slammed on the brake, the speed in which you’d been travelling forcing the vehicle to spin a little on its axis, gravel crunching under tires. 

You tugged on the wheel as the car turned to the right, trying to straighten up as you came to a sudden and screeching halt. You breathed heavily, gripping the steering wheel and staring at the huge beast through your windscreen in the glow of your headlights. 

The horse blinked several times at you, as though trying to convey a message but it remained on the road. 

You exhaled loudly, keeping the engine running so as to keep the lights on, you threw open the door and stepped onto the asphalt. 

“Where the fuck did you come from?” You glared at the horse, not daring to come too close in case it was vicious. 

The horse blinked a few more times before bowing its head towards the side of the road. You frowned at it, watching it slowly canter in the direction it nodded. 

“Okay, good.” You nodded with a frown as it walked off. “You’re lucky I didn’t hit you, you crazy horse.” 

As you turned back to your open door, over the sound of gravel crunching beneath the horses hooves, your ears picked up on another sound. 

Turning back to where the horse had meandered, you squinted into the darkness, focusing your hearing. 

“H-help? Please?” A crackly voice met your ears. 

A shiver passed up your spine, suddenly on high alert. 

“Is someone there?” You called back, not daring to move away from your vehicle. 

“P-please? I’m really hurt.” The voice came again. 

The horse had stopped walking now, you could just make out its figure in the dark. To its left was another figure laying in the dirt. 

“Uh, you okay?” You called again, still not daring to come closer. 

You didn’t trust this situation, you were a naturally suspicious person and this didn’t sit right with you. The horse had been used to get you to stop and you had no doubts if you were to go over to this person who claimed they needed help you’d find yourself in grave danger. 

“No I’m not okay!” The voice grew exasperated. “I fell off my horse. I’m fairly certain I’ve broken my arm and twisted my knee. I can’t move.” 

You wrapped your arms around yourself, huddling against the side of the car.

“No offence mister, but I wasn’t born yesterday.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean? You think I’m lying to you?” 

“Aren’t you?” 

“No! I swear! I’m a…” he trailed off and sucked in a breath. I’m a what? What did he plan on saying? I’m an FBI Agent? It had been years since he’d left the BAU but the habit to announce himself as such still lived inside of him. “I’m in a great deal of pain.” 

You clutched yourself tighter, rolling your lip between your teeth in silent contemplation. He did sound in pain, but he could have just been a good actor. 

“Look, I’m really not itching to get murdered tonight and I’m kinda in a hurry.” You scuffed the toe of your sneaker in the dirt. 

“You can’t leave me here!” The voice begged. “You’re the first car to pass in hours! I need to go to the hospital.” 

“I…I really have to go.” You shuffled towards the open car door. 

“So you’re just going to leave me here to die?” The voice turned sour. “Because that’s what will happen. If I don’t die of dehydration or starvation, I will undoubtedly be eaten alive by all manner of animals that live out here. Hell, my horse will probably turn against me if she’s not fed soon. Do you really want that on your conscience?” 

You grumbled under your breath, looking between the car and the shadowy figure on the ground. With a huff you spun towards the vehicle and climbed onto your knees on the driver's seat. Reaching across the central console you popped open the glove compartment and withdrew the item sheathed inside. 

He heard you land back in the gravel before the sound of tentative footsteps getting closer. The dirt crunched under your feet, your eyes flitting between the silhouette and the horse who was ambling around. The item you’d gotten from the car was being held in both hands, pointing at the figure on the floor.

As you drew closer you started to make out some features. He appeared to be tall, even laying down, slim build with a mop of dirty curls brushing against the ground. He wore jeans, a denim shirt over a white tee and a black stetson laid on his chest. 

He blinked a couple of times as you came into view, trying to lift his head to get a better look at you. But what he saw made the colour drain from his face and his eyes bulged from his head.

“What the hell?” He tried to shuffle backwards but he couldn’t move due to the pain coursing through him. “What are you doing?” 

The barrel of a revolver was staring at him between your hands, pointing directly at his head. His heart beat frantically against his chest as he scrambled to move but his limbs were uncooperative. 

He stared down the barrel of countless guns in his time with the BAU, not to mention the fact that out in these parts many people carried shotguns. He wasn’t usually so perturbed by seeing weapons, even when they were pointing at him, but this was an exception.

“You really hurt?” You stepped a little closer until you were standing right by his booted feet. 

“Yes!” He tried to insist. “P-please put the gun away.” 

You didn’t at first, keeping it levelled at him while you gave him a once over. One of his knees was clearly swollen under the fabric of his jeans and his left arm was bent and disarticulated. He genuinely didn’t seem as though he could move. 

With a sigh you lowered the gun, tucking it in the waistband of your own jeans. Cautiously you came closer to him until you were next to his chest where you knelt in the dirt next to him. 

His eyes were piercing, a deep intense brown with flecks of gold that glistened in the moonlight. He had high cheekbones and a chiselled jawline which was peppered with a few days worth of stubble. His parted lips were plump and chapped. 

Did he have to be so attractive?

“Can you help me up?” He asked, pouting slightly. 

“I can try.” You shrugged.

Shuffling closer you placed a hand on his shoulder, using your other hand to take hold of his. He flinched a little at your touch but you assumed it was due to the pain. 

You used your grip on his shoulder to manoeuvre him, peel him away from the ground and pulled the rest of his weight using his hand. He groaned deeply as he started to be lifted, the agony evident on his tongue. 

He tried to assist you even though the movement felt like it was sending daggers down his spinal column. He used you to anchor himself, steadily pulling him into a seated position. Once he was up, you let go of him and sat back on your haunches. 

“Now what?” You asked with a curious look. 

His face was contorted from the pain, his brow furrowed deeply and his eyes downturned. 

“I…I have no idea.” He groaned. “There is no way I can stand.” 

“Should I call paramedics?” You picked up his stetson which had fallen into his lap and ran your fingers along the brim.

“I think that might be wise.” He agreed, pinching his eyes closed as the pain flooded through his limbs. 

Keeping hold of his hat in one hand you drew your cell phone from your pocket and dialled 9-1-1. It was only when the phone was already to your ear that it occurred to you what a terrible idea this was. 

You’d been so careful up until now, was this handsome cowboy going to be your downfall? 

You noticed the way your voice pitched and cracked as you informed the operator of what had happened and tried to explain where exactly you were with a little help from the stranger. 

Somewhere between Pipe Creek and Bandera. You’ll see a car. And a damn horse.  

Within a few minutes you were off the phone. 

He was leaning back against his good arm, hand braced against the dirt behind him. His eyes were still closed and you saw his face twitching with each surge of pain. 

“So, uh, you new at this?” You waved the stetson in the direction of the horse who was still ambling around. 

He opened his eyes and looked between you and his trusty steed. 

“No, I just…there was this wild horse and I was trying to check to see if she was okay. She got spooked by Willow and the next thing I know I’m on the floor.” He closed his eyes again.

“Willow? Cute.” You smiled slightly at the great beast. “A little intimidating.” 

“She may look that way but she’s incredibly docile. Maybe a little unpredictable in new scenarios but on the whole she’s pretty placid.” His eyes squeezed tighter as another wave of pain thrummed along his spine. 

“Uh,” you continued looking between him and the horse as a thought occurred to you. “Where does she go when you get taken away to the hospital?”

His eyes opened again, landing on you in a look that told you it also hadn’t occurred to him either. 

“You, uh, know how to ride?” He tried his luck.

“No I don’t not.” You scoffed. “I’m a city girl. I know nothing about horses.” 

“She’s incredibly intelligent. She knows the way home, she just needs the impetus to get there.” Once again his eyes fluttered closed. 

“Meaning?” 

“She’ll walk beside your car, show you the way. But you’d need to feed her in order to keep her going. I can get her to do it without the treats but you’re a stranger to her.” His fingers dug into the dirt, the ache that spread up and down the length of his back was brutal. 

And then there was the pain shooting through his left arm and the throb in his old knee injury. This was not the day he had planned.

“So you’re proposing I take your horse home?” You scoffed at the ludicrousy of it. 

“She won’t make it back on her own.” He tried to shrug his shoulders but stopped short when it caused a new eruption of pain. 

“Dude, I don’t even know you.” You shook your head, still fingering the stetson.

“I’ll admit it's a little unorthodox, but I can’t leave her out here.” He forced his eyes open, pleading with you. 

“I told you, I’m really in a hurry to get somewhere.” You shook your head. “I called the paramedics, I did the good Samaritan thing. But as soon as they get here, I’ve really gotta go.” 

“Where are you heading in such a hurry?” He cocked an eyebrow at you.

“Seems like that’s none of your business.” 

“I’m not trying to be nosy.” He shook his head lightly but even that caused him to wince. “It’s late is all, I was just wondering where you had to be in such a rush.” 

“Never you mind.” You grumbled. “But the sooner I get there I can finally rest. I’ve been driving for days.” 

“Do this for me and you can spend the night at my ranch.” He whined slightly as he spoke. 

“Excuse me?” You shuffled in the dirt. 

“Oh gosh,” he huffed. “Not like that. I’m not…I’m not hitting on you. I am undoubtedly going to have to spend the night in hospital, I have a spare lodge on my ranch which doesn’t get used. If you get Willow home for me, you can spend the night, you must be tired.” 

You shuffled again, still for some reason playing with his stetson in your hands in an absent mind. He was looking at you with a pleading expression, begging you to do this for him. But it all seemed too weird.

“You’re willing to let a stranger stay in your home without you even being there?” You clicked your tongue. 

“If it means Willow gets home safe, yes.” He sighed.

“What if I rob you? You don’t know me, I could be a criminal.” You reached forward and placed the stetson atop his head gently.

“I really don’t have a lot worth stealing. I mean I have more horses and cattle…nothing really worth anything unless you're a rancher which clearly you aren’t. I’m willing to risk it.” He once again tried to shrug but groaned at the effort. 

“This is insane.” You shook your head, unbelieving you were even considering this. 

“I’ll admit it’s not ideal circumstances but I need to go to the hospital, and I also need to get Willow home. And if you continue to drive all night you’re going to end up in an accident. In a weird way it’s kinda a win-win situation.” 

“Until I rob you.” 

“You’re not gonna rob me.” For the first time a smile spread to his lips, the pain momentarily slipping away from his features. 

It was a damn nice smile, one which you were sure it was impossible to say no to. But nonetheless you tried.

“You couldn’t possibly know that.” You swallowed. 

“I'm good at reading people.” His smile grew a little. “You have a trustworthy face.” 

“Oh do I?” You tilted your head to the side in curiosity.

“Mm hmm.” He nodded, seemingly forgetting all the pain he’d previously been in. “A very trustworthy, very pretty face.” 

You swallowed again, shuffling backwards in the dirt slightly in discomfort. Spencer averted his eyes at his omission. The pain must have been going to his head, maybe it was due to the dehydration. It was unlike him to be so bold. 

“Oh jeez,” you muttered under your breath. “Fine, fine I’ll take your stupid horse-”

“Willow, her name is Willow.” 

“I’ll take Willow home for you and I may or may not stay at your ranch and then I may or may not rob you.” 

“And then you may or may not pick me up from the hospital in the morning? Assuming I’m allowed to leave so soon.” His smile was growing, but the pinch of pain was back in his eyes. 

“Are you for real?” You hissed. “No, no I am not doing that.” 

“I don’t have a car, and the nearest hospital is just outside of San Antonio, like forty five miles southeast of here. How do you expect me to get home?” His smile faded.

“Doesn’t seem like it’s my problem.” You suddenly pushed yourself to your feet. “I don’t have time to hang around this little Podunk place. I have to be somewhere.” 

He was silent for a moment or two, looking up at you under the wide brim of his stetson. His eyes shone in the moonlight and caused your stomach to coil into knots. 

“Fine.” He spat. “Just go, sorry I bothered you. So much for that southern charm.”

“Never said I was from the south.” You rolled your eyes. 

You fell silent and in the distance you both noted the distinctive sound of sirens. Seconds later you saw the red and blues lighting up the dark stretch of road, heading in your direction. 

He didn’t miss the way you jumped a little at the initial sound and how your body seemed to go rigid at the sight of the flashing lights.

“You're off the hook, you did your good deed now you’re free to go.” The man scoffed, a sarcastic twang evident in his voice. 

“Goddamnit,” you mumbled, shaking your head. “Fine, I will take your damn horse home.”

“Willow.” He corrected you and when you looked back down at him he had a mildly smug smile on his lips. 

“Don’t make me change my mind.” You huffed. 

Soon the ambulance was screeching to a stop next to your car and two paramedics jumped out the front of the vehicle. 

You stood aside while the cowboy, who told them his name was Spencer Reid, explained what had happened with the wild horse and how he’d ended up on the floor unable to move for hours. 

One of the paramedics got a stretcher out the back of the vehicle while the other delicately helped Spencer to lay back down in the dirt. The stretcher was brought over and lowered down as far as it would go. 

“This might hurt a little, sir.” The woman, who was near his head, spoke. 

“Mm hmm.” Spencer grit his teeth, readying himself for the pain.

The female EMT tucked her gloved hands gently under Spencer’s shoulders while the man wrapped his around Spencer’s ankles. 

You hovered near the horse - Willow - arms tucked around your waist. You curled in on yourself at the howl of pain that erupted from Spencer when he was lifted onto the stretcher. The EMT’s were quick to strap him in and lead him across the bumpy ground towards the ambulance. 

“Sorry, can you give me a minute?” His voice pierced over the sound of the wheels on gravel before they stilled.

He looked towards you and beckoned you closer with an almost imperceptible motion of his head. 

“My keys are in my right front pocket.” He cast his eyes downwards. 

You drew your lips into a tight line and huffed a little. It felt like crossing over a line diving into the pocket of a stranger but you’d moved so far past this being weird it almost seemed normal. You fished in his pocket and pulled out a loop of keys. 

“The biggest one, that’s the key to my lodge. Inside the lodge on the hook is another key for my other cabin where you can stay the night. The linen is fresh and there’s clean towels on the back of the door in the bathroom. Help yourself to anything in my fridge.” He told you. 

“And how do I find it?” You cocked an eyebrow at him, keys dangling from your index finger. 

“Willow will show you the way, she’s well trained. Oh, her treats!” He used his good hand to pat the pocket on his shirt.

You huffed once more, manoeuvring around the EMT’s to his other side and freeing a ziploc bag full of apple and carrot slices. 

“The stable is a little way left of my lodge, you can’t miss it. There are two other horses there, her paddock is the one on the far right. Can you take her number down?” He glanced at the paramedic nearest him. “Have someone call her when I’m discharged?” 

The paramedics clearly sensed there was a strange story here but neither wanted to ask. Instead the man reached for a clipboard tucked inside the van and handed it to you. 

It was a patient intake form and he pointed with one finger towards the emergency contact section whilst handing you a pen. 

With a sigh you took it, scrawled down your number and - without hesitation - a fake name before handing it back to him. 

“Thank you for this. I owe you one.” He offered you a meek smile. 

“Oh you owe me more than one.” You grumbled as they set about lifting the stretcher into the back of the ambulance. 

You watched them load him, the man staying in the back of the cab while the woman closed the doors and went to the front. Soon the engine was starting back up and the ambulance turned back towards the way it had come and drove off, sending particles of dust flying in its wake. 

Holding a stranger's keys in one hand and a bag of fruit and veg on the other, you turned back to the horse - Willow you kept reminding yourself - who was seemingly watching the ambulance retreat with her owner. 

Cautiously you stepped closer to the giant mare, hesitant steps, holding up the bag of goodies. 

“Say, Willow?” You rustled the bag and she turned to look at you. “What do you say you show me where you live?” 

Willow seemed to perk up and trotted closer to you, and if you didn’t know any better you’d say the beast was smiling at you.  

You opened the ziploc bag and pulled out a slightly slimy slice of apple and dangled it in front of her eye line. 

You started walking backwards towards your car whilst keeping your eyes on Willow who was following appeasingly, eyes trained on the piece of fruit. 

When you reached your car you held the slice in the palm of your hand and proffered it towards her. She gratefully took it, large gums spreading across your open hand while she shuffled the slice into her mouth. 

You grimaced at the feeling, her saliva coating your hand in a muddy, sticky mess. You wiped your hand on the thigh of your jeans. 

“Gross. So gross.” You sighed, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Why the hell am I doing this again?” 

@andiebeaword @muffin-cup @dreatine @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @people-whatabunchofbastards @justreadingficsdontmindme @spencer-reid-wonderland @thebloomingeagle @kalulakunundrum

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid au #cowboy spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

[arataka-reigen]

Fall Anime Lineup Review by yours truly 🙋‍♀️🍄🌻

This season, I decided to watch as many anime as I could just for funsies :^) in total, I have started 19 shows, and I will be reviewing most of them here to help you decide whether to give any of them a go or not.

(This review will include exclusively animes that debuted this fall, so no second seasons or continuing shows from the summer season)

I will be classifying these anime in three categories: "definitely worth the watch," "anime i've dropped," and "not a masterpiece, but check it out if you like the premise"

Reminder that this is my personal list, and as such it 100% reflects my personal tastes (like my preference for female main characters and yuri shows)

So I might give 5 stars to shows other people would find bad, and that's okay! I invite others to make their own lists as well <3 (insert lets take ibuprofen together meme here)

(Last thing: i've added cw for only a few shows, and this is by no means an extensive list of all possible triggers for any of these shows, so watch at your own risk and if you want more info you can always ask or dm me)

Without further ado, let's get on to it (under read more because im not a jerk to make you scroll past All That)

Definitely worth the watch / Top 5 Shows of the Season

The Apothecary Diaries

Summary: Drama, Historical, Medical, Mystery. An apothecary gets kidnapped and forced to work in the emperor's palace as a low-level servant. She is determined to quietly work until her years of servitude are over, but when the emperor's infants fall ill, Maomao uses her medical abilities to solve the mystery of their illnesses and accidentally attracts attention to herself, being brought to work in the inner palace instead.

Rating: ★★★★★

Review: This show is incredibly well animated and voice acted. The characters are brilliant and the stories are beautifully touching. It appears to be slightly episodic so far, with Maomao having to solve a new mystery or save someone's life every episode, but there is still a sense of a continuous story being told and I can't wait to see where it goes.

The strongest part of this show is definitely the MC. Maomao is incredibly competent, self-assured, and a no-nonsense person, but she is also completely obsessed with drugs and poisons, going so far as to test them out on her own skin and become completely giddy when she is presented with the opportunity to work with drugs in the inner palace.

Another great quality is the sorority between women, Maomao was raised in the red light district, and the courtesans there taught her a lot about life, which Maomao applies to her everyday life.

If you only have time to watch one anime this season, this is the one I'd tell you to watch.

CW: self-harm, child death, kidnapping, classism.

Edit to add one more cw: pedophilia (it is treated as a bad thing and not endorsed, but it caught me by surprise while i read the manga so i thought to warn this is an upcoming topic that will probably appear on ep 6)

Sousou no Frieren

Summary: Adventure, Drama, Fantasy. What happens when you are a 1000 year old elf who has to live on after your friends' death? For 10 years, Frieren and her companions fought against the demon king, disbanding after he was defeated. The story accompanies Frieren after Himmel, the Hero, dies, and she has to come to terms with the fact that the short 10 years she spent with him have made a big change in her life.

Rating: ★★★★★

Review: Much like The Apothecary Diaries, Frieren's tale is not full of battles and fast paced episodes, actually it is slightly episodic, accompanying Frieren as she goes around collecting spells (that's her hobby) and traveling around the land through all the places she went with her party back in the day, seeing their statues and getting to experience new things while trying to figure out what those 10 years of adventuring meant to her.

This is MadHouse we are talking about, so of course, the animation is one of the strongest attributes. Sound design is also very good, you get to feel the quiet moments and appreciate them. The ending song is so good.

Also like Apothecary, Frieren's greatest qualities are the characters, especially the MC and the feelings they have to face.

Tumblr loves characters haunting the narrative right?? You guys are gonna love Himmel, the Hero istg

CW: death, grief, mild violence.

My New Boss is Goofy

Summary: Iyashikei, Workplace, Comedy. Momose used to be harrassed by his last boss so he decided to quit his job and joing a different company. Momose's new boss, Shirosaki, is an airhead and being in his presence is a fun and healing time for Momose

Rating: ★★★★★

Review: SALARYMEN YAOI. This show will heal your soul. The animation is simple but pretty, the cute effects like the ones on the gif above really help set the mood of a cute show. You've heard of cute girls doing cute things on anime, now get ready for cute salarymen doing cute things such as adopting a cat and naming it their shipname, riding the merry go round together, etc.

Also, may I offer you a canon bi/pan male character who is not embarrassed to come out?

Btw this is iyashikei, so nothing really happens, that's the whole premise of this genre. No drama, only healing. Idek if there is anything i could put as content warning. CW: cuteness overload.

I'm in Love with the Villainess

Summary: Isekai, Fantasy, Comedy, Girls Love. Rei wakes up in the body of the hero of her favorite otome game. Her favorite character in that game happened to be the villain, though, so now she is determined to dedicate herself to pursuing the villainess.

Rating: ★★★★★

Review: I debated a lot whether or not to include this on my top 5, but the incredibly deep and honest discussion about sexuality on ep 4 definitely swayed my decision in its favor. The animation is nothing special tbh and at times can feel very static, but the character design is good enough for me.

This anime is like if Maria from Hamefura was the one who got isekaid and then fell in love with OG Katarina, so... yeah, of course I love it.

It seems that this anime will go in some interesting and unexpected directions as well in the future so I consider this is a must watch of the season.

CW: classism, discussions of homophobia, mc can come off as a bit of a stalker,

To complete my top 5:

I'm Giving the Disgraced Noble Lady I Rescued a Crash Course in Naughtiness

Summary: Romance, Comedy, Fantasy. Despite being innocent, Charlotte is accused of evil deeds, has her engagement annulled, and is forced to flee her country. While crossing the forest, running away from royal guards, she collapses near the residence of one man known as "The Demon Lord"

When he hears her story, said Demon Lord decides to let her live with him and teach her all about the naughty things in life (such as splurging on clothes, eating dessert instead of dinner, and playing games all night long).

Rating: ★★★★★

Review: EXTREMELY WHOLESOME. You'll be cheering for these two to get together in no time at all.

It's kinda like My Happy Marriage, but with less drama lol the female lead was raised as a servant in her own home, much like Miyo, and then gets rescued by a male lead who wants her to learn how to assert herself and live for herself, pursuing her dreams and valuing her own life.

Not a single moment with the male lead so far has been anything but incredibly wholesome and funny, Allen is genuinely a good person who wants Charlotte to heal for her own sake. He gets incredibly happy when she hides a secret from him because it means she is becoming her own person.

So far, this anime hasn't had a single problematic trope this type of romance anime usually has, and i don't think it will. What it does have are fun tropes like: "and there was only one bed", side characters hardcore shipping the MCs, male lead who is genuinely a good person but laughs and talks like a villain, etc.

ALSO, this series has not one but TWO catgirls <3

I could genuinely talk about all five of these animes for hours, but I still have lots of others to review. Hit me up if you want to talk abt any of them, though, i'm gonna be super happy.

Honorable Mention:

Spy X Family Season 2

Rating: ★★★★★

Anime I've dropped or will probably drop soon

The Vexations of a Shut-in Vampire Princess

Summary: Comedy, Fantasy, Vampire. Komari is a shut-in vampire who is weaker than most vampires because she refuses to drink blood. One day, she wakes up to the news that she was appointed as commander of a unit of the imperial army and must now do her best to win wars and survive while all the vampires under her command fight for her position

Rating: ★½ (a full star is too much, so I'll give it half a star)

Review: This one is bad, fam. The reason I found why it is so bad can be summarized in a 3 words: the male gaze.

Komari is filled to the brim with yuri bait, with every female character being into the MC, but all of it is 100% targeted to male audiences. This show is NOT classified as shoujo ai, so i wouldn't get my hopes up and ultimately dropped it after only the first episode.

If you need one more reason to Not watch this, I'll let you know that in less than 10 minutes of the first episode the MC almost pisses herself because that's a thing they decided to include for no reason at all.

My Daughter Left the Nest and Returned an S-rank Adventurer

Summary: Adventure, Fantasy. After losing his leg as a newbie adventurer, he retires and returns to his hometown, becoming a handyman for the village. One day, while searching the mountains for herbs, he finds a child and raises her.

His grown-up daughter leaves to become an adventurer herself, and after years, she hasn't returned home not even once...

Rating: ★½

Review: Oh, I wanted this one to be good so badly 😭 it was one of the animes I was most looking forward to after reading the premise. Actual dilf character who is in his 40s and not in his 20s? I wanted it to be good. But, alas, it is bad. There is nothing problematic with it at all, the anime is straight up just bad. Bad animation, horrible pacing, terrible exposition, abhorrent setup of the story, not enough moments dedicated to setting up the story and making the characters interesting at all.

I Shall Suvive Using Potions!

Summary: Isekai, Fantasy. The God of Earth accidentally kills Kaoru and, as compensation, offers to lead her to a new life in another world with any power buff she wishes for. She chooses to be able to make potions with any effect of her choice, infinite storage space, and other stuff

Rating: ★

Review: ngl the first half of the first episode was pretty interesting, with Kaoru dying and then bargaining for compensations, but after this it just gets very very very boring. Nothing too bad about this one, it's just not worth anyone's time.

Tearmoon Empire

Summary: Fantasy, Time Travel, Comedy. Following her execution at the guillotine by the hands of the revolutionary army, Mia Luna Tearmoon wakes up to learn she has returned to when she was 12 years old, before the downward spiral and decline of the empire that led to her death. She finds her bloodied future diary, and decides to use it to change events to ensure she doesn't end up at the guillotine once again.

Rating: ★

Review: i honestly still don't know where i stand with this anime. It's got an interesting premise, but the development of the story is not at all interesting. This and the S-rank Daughter anime are under a category of "animes i wish had better writers."

CW: death, torture

The Family Circumstances of the Irregular Witch

Summary: Fantasy, Comedy, Gag Humor. Alyssa, a witch who lives alone in the forest, picks up an abandoned human baby one day. 16 years later, Viola had not only grown into a daughter who adores Alyssa, but also into a woman of exceptional proportions, and the people around them mistook Viola for Alyssa's mother

Rating: ★★

Review: it pains me to drop this one ngl, as it is a very sweet mother & daughter story and I feel like we don't get enough of those. The story can be very wholesome at times, and i've had more than a few good laughs with it. But it's just not interesting enough to keep you watching, and most of the jokes get old pretty fast. I'd recommend watching just the first episode because it is cute and funny enough by itself

Not a masterpiece, but check it out if you like the premise

Hoshizuku Telepath

Summary: Comedy, Girls Love, Supernatural. Fifteen-year-old Umika Konohoshi, with a love for aliens and space, is having a hard time socializing at school, but she hopes her words will someday reach other people. When self-proclaimed alien Yuu Akeuchi enters her life, Umika will learn more about being open.

Rating: ★★★★

Review: Just cute girls doing cute things + this one is actually classified as Shoujo Ai, so i have high hopes for a bit of romance. So far, it's just been very, very cute, wonderful animation, cute characters, cute interactions, cute everything

None of these characters are neurotypical btw.

I highly recommend this one, it almost made my top 5.

16bit Sensation: Another Layer

Summary: Time Travel, Workplace, Comedy, Otaku Culture. Konoha is an illustrator who loves beautiful girls and bishoujo games. She works at a video game studio and dreams of making bishoujo games. However, in the present, where mobile games are all the rage, Konoha spends her days as a sub-illustrator just coloring the back of background characters.

One day, after some happenings, Konoha got her hand on a masterpiece of a bishoujo game, and upon opening the package, she is suddenly taken back in time to the golden age of bishoujo games (the 90s). She joins a company named "Alcoholsoft" in pursuit of her dream of making games.

Rating: ★★★★

Review: Main character loves infodumping about her special interest so much she manages to get herself a time travel deal after infodumping on a random old lady.

This is another anime that almost made my top 5. It has a slow start and the continuity sometimes makes no sense ngl, but the premise is still very interesting. I was used to stories where characters get isekaid into a completely different time and space, but this girl is just sent back 30 years in time so she can witness the boom of her beloved bishoujo games.

The MC can get kind of annoying sometimes, but it isnt too unbearable, I still highly rec it.

Shy

Summary: Action, Super Powers, Drama. As the planet approached its third World War, individuals with superpowers appeared from around the globe to maintain peace. They became the symbols of their respective nations, striving to limit crime and bring evildoers to justice. Teenage heroine Teru "Shy" Momijiyama is Japan's representative in the world of heroes. When a mysterious threat called Amalareiks emerges, Shy must work together with her fellow heroes to stop them at all costs, all while dealing with her own feelings of inadequacy and shyness.

Rating: ★★★★

Review: a lot better than I expected, the myanimelist score does not do it justice istg. This season is full of shy and reserved main characters, but I feel like they get to be a lot more interesting than your usual shy characters. Both Hoshizuku Telepath and Shy deal with their shy characters in interesting ways and I rec both.

I also absolutely adore Iko, who is one of the first people saved by Shy in the anime, but she ends up badly hurt, which sends Shy into a spiral of doubt and fears.

CW: mild violence, death, grief, self hatred and suicidal thoughts

Migi and Dali

Summary: Comedy, Mystery, Suspense. Osamu and Youko want to adopt a child, due to their increasingly old age, they decide they can only take one kid. They decide to adopt Hitori, a gentle and beautiful boy.

However, Hitori's humble and overly polite exterior is merely a facade. In reality, Hitori is a carefully crafted character played by identical twins Migi and Dali. They did all that to be able to infiltrate their childhood town and uncover the mystery of their mother's death.

Rating: ★★★★

Review: This show is batshit insane and absolutely hilarious. These twins mistrust everyone around them and are constantly on edge to maintain the facade of being only one person, the extents they go to keep this up make for hysterical situations and I just couldn't stop laughing while being absolutely horrified by everything that goes on in this. This is a very disturbing anime, though, and the cw for this is gonna make you question whether or not you can trust my opinion, and you know what? I don't know if you should trust me either. But like,,, it really is that fucking funny. It is also just incredibly disturbing and fucked up as well, so watch at your own risk.

CW (this one is very problematic, don't say i didn't warn you): non sexual forced infantilization, non sexual forced pet play, non sexual groping, forced partial nudity, forced eating, minor incest vibes, implied murder, invasion of privacy, surveillance, classism, fursona, bullying, kidnapping and imprisonment. Most of these things happen to a minor, so.. yeah... not great...

If you would like more info on these cws before starting this anime, feel free to send an ask or dm me.

Ron Kamonohashi's Forbidden Deductions

Summary: Mystery, Detective, Comedy. Totomaru wants to solve murders and help people, but lacks the skills for it. Following the advice of one of his seniors, he ventures out to enlist the aid of the reclusive Ron Kamonohashi. Five years ago, Ron was the most promising detective from the illustrious Detective Training Academy Blue; yet for reasons unknown to the public, he sank into obscurity.

The true reason Ron withdrew from the detective world was not from lack of desire, but rather from something out of his control—and Totomaru might just be the key for his return to his former calling.

Rating: ★★★

Review: This is the classic sherlock ripoff that comes around all the time. Not saying it is bad tho, it is quite fun and the dynamic between Toto and Ron is very good. The animation is pretty decent as well. I have only seen one episode so far, but I already like it.

Our Dating Story: The Experienced You and The Inexperienced Me

Summary: Romance, School. As part of a punishment game, Ryuuto is forced to confess to the girl he likes, Runa Shirakawa, a very popular student.

Runa doesn't have a boyfriend at the moment, so she simply agrees to date him.

They have different friends and ways to have fun, and they are different in almost every way. Nonetheless, they begin to relate with each other.

Rating: ★★★

Review: this romance is quite fun and cute, Runa is very carefree about her relationships and isnt embarrassed by things like sex or whatever, she is quite experienced (as the title says), but she has never experienced real love so she just goes around dating in search for it. Ryuuto is very different and gets embarrassed just thinking about holding her hand. He also wants to make her feel appreciated and figure out what her interests are, so he is one of the first dudes to actually treat her like a human being, which, god, it is so real how men take women for granted and this anime shows that by the juxtaposition of Ryuuto being an actual decent person.

Anyways, it doesn't get a higher recommendation from me because the main source of conflict so far in this anime is another female character, who hates the female lead. And that. Uhh. I don't like stories like this. Im a women loving eomen. Im a yuri enjoyer. Im a girl's girl. So, i'd enjoy it more if the antagonist wasnt a girl who hates the female lead. But it is good enough so far to give me hope that this will change in the future.

The Yuzuki Family's Four Sons

Summary: Slice of Life, School. The Yuzuki family, which consists of four brothers, lost their parents two years ago. Hayato, the eldest son, is a hard worker and the pillar of the family. Mikoto, the second son, is calm and collected, but he has a soft spot for his younger brother Minato, the third son, who is energetic and lovable, but clumsy and awkward. Gakuto, the fourth son, is a studious and mature first-grader who is often referred to as a "wise man." The story follows their daily lives.

Rating: ★★★

Review: this is the only actual shoujo of this list. The rest is either shounen or not classified as either. I have only watched one episode so far, so I can't say a lot about it, the first ep was cute and wholesome, as most slice of life is. I say go for it if you want some wholesome family.

Undead Unluck

Summary: Action, Comedy, Super Powers. For the past 10 years, Fuuko has been afflicted by a condition that brings extreme misfortune to anyone who touches her. This has resulted in the deaths of her parents.

As she stands on a bridge above train tracks, Fuuko is touched by a strange man, causing the footing underneath him to break and dropping him in front of an oncoming train. However, when Fuuko finds the man's corpse, she discovers that his body is regenerating and that he is coming back to life.

The man is immortal and wishes for death. Together, the two will look for the best death possible.

Rating: ★★

Review: god, this one is absolutely insane and so full of blood and death, help. But it is good, I had A Lot of fun with the first ep and I'll give it a chance because I can see myself getting really into the main couple. This is a hardcore shounen tho, so it does include some classically annoying tropes, especially since the dude has to touch her to be hit by her unlucky powers.

This season only had 2 shoujos, and one of them had a classic shoujo problem (problematic age gaps), so i didn't watch it. Here is to hoping next season has more shoujosei.

Thank you for reading until the end (wtf, are you crazy) and happy watching <3

#jesus fuck i dont want to tag all this lol #wish i could add more than 10 gifs per post smh #gi talks animanga #the apothecary diaries #sousou no frieren #my new boss is goofy #im in love with the villainess #ikenaikyo #spy x family #hikikomari kyuuketsuki no monmon #my daughter left the nest and returned an s rank adventurer #i shall survive using potions! #tearmoon empire #the family circumstances of the irregular witch #stardust telepath #16bit sensation #shy anime #migi and dali #kamonohashi ron no kindan suiri #our dating story the experienced you and the inexperienced me #the yuzuki family's four sons #undead unluck #1