#except the whole 'sleeping bag on the mattress' situation but you know what i mean

[birdieart]

what was bucky calling himself in romania? did he use the romanian variant of James (Iakob) when he talked to people and had to give them a name? how did he even learn romanian? does he have romanian heritage? did he learn it during the war? how did he pay rent? was he working in construction or as a line cook or something? did he have a little old lady as a neighbour who thought he was too skinny and lonely and forced him to eat with her at least once a week? did she make him help with cooking so he could make the food himself? did he go to the orthodox church with her? did the local kids like him? did he cut his hair himself or did he brave going to a barbers to keep it at a length he liked? did he like talking to market sellers about fruit because it was an easy conversation and a way for him to get used to socialising?

i have SO many questions about bucky in romania

#like i know it was just a nod to sebstan being romanian which is very cute imo #but also the logistics of this #is bucky romanian? is his mother romanian and changed her last name when she married his dad? #did he grow up orthodox or protestant? #why romania? #its a smart move going to a capital city and hiding in plain sight especially considering how much he physically changed over those two yea #homeboy was eating snacks all the time and absolutely thriving #except the whole 'sleeping bag on the mattress' situation but you know what i mean #sometimes i think about sebstan in interviews talking about being romanian and the cultural effects of that #his mother reading coffee dregs (like reading tea leaves) and being raised orthodox christian #i wonder how much of that bleeds into bucky #because bucky choosing romania of all places kind of implies some kind of connection #beyond the connection with the soviet arm of hydra #bucky barnes #bucky meta #bucky barnes meta #mcu meta #cacw meta #civil war meta #marvel #mcu

[shadowcatzone]

-short renheng short. very short (it's not). About what i posted a while back-

It's very interesting to watch a grown man try to force a mattress through the doors of the express. More so considering the man, scarred from top to bottom (except his face for some unknown reason), tried to kill their archivist until just a short while ago. After he managed- somehow- to get the mattress inside, he turns to the trailblazer, silence stretches between both.

"...Dan hengs room?" "...in the archives." He hesitates after hearing the answer. Gears turning, visibly. He clears his throat, "i mean, where he sleeps." They stare at each other for a short while. "Oh, no, he sleeps in the archives, on a futon. Refuses to pick a room for some reason. If you want to pick one, ...feel free." They point in the direction of the wagons. This answer leaves the stellaron hunter visibly upset, for some reason. But then his face turns neutral and he moves into the direction of the wagons. Dragging the mattress behind him.

Afterwards, they don't hear anything from him for a few days. Upon informing him, dan heng only mutters "how strange..." under his breath. March chimes in, exclaiming "what!? He doesn't want to live here, does he-" "don't even joke about that!" Dan heng quickly interjects. Sure, they get along these days, but there's no need to test the limits of that. They figured out which room he picked- and decided to stay far away from it.

The next time he comes by, it's already nighttime, he brings four, four large pillows. As well as some bags with aeons know what. Trailblazer asks him about it under the pretense of helping him carry some things. When they reach for a pillow, blade slaps their hand away. "...don't want them to smell like you." He explains, handing them the bags instead. Blade walks ahead, and they follow, taking a peek into the bags.

"Tea? And... dried fruits? What are you-" he stops, turning to them. He gives them a scandalous look, "my, do you really want to know?" Contrary to his expression, he sounds rather amused, so they drop the question. Lest they get pulled into something weird.

Unlike last time, he spends the night in the express. In that room. Maybe march was right and he really does want to live there. The thought sends a shiver down trailblazers back. Though their shiver is not as bad as dan hengs - when he comfortably sits, with a coffee (not made by himeko, apparently), reading a book - and suddenly blade walks past him. Despite dan heng almost dropping the cup, blade walks out of the express, never to be seen again. ...until next time, at least.

Though the next time, he only brings more bags, presumably clothes, and leaves as quick as he arrived. March insists they should check on the room, "what if he brings something dangerous?? We should at least check!" Welt and himeko tell her there's no need, and they find out that they agreed to the whole thing. She talks trailblazer into checking the room anyways, only to discover that it's locked.

Dan heng hadn't been bothered, so he didn't mind the entire situation. If something happened, he had cloud piercer - that would likely be enough to defend the crew, anyways. But then blade just didn't return, for quite a while. So long, in fact, that they all thought, whatever he was doing - he got tired of it.

And then he was back. A little worse for wear, but it was nearing the evening and he brought two big fluffy blankets. And a large box. From the way it sounded... probably electrical appliances. He vanishes into the room, and despite every other odd sound, doesn't come back out.

a long while after they ate dinner, they were all sitting together for a while. With dan heng reading a book, and the others talking. He closes his book, then moves towards the archives. "Are you going to bed?" Trailblazer inquires. "No, i still need to update some entries in the archive. I'll probably work through the night again." March looks at him. "But you always need to update some entries! And you always work through the night!!" He yawns, "such is the life of an archivist." And before he crosses the halfway point to the door, it opens. On the other side is blade.

They stare at each other for a while. Then dan heng takes a step back. And blade makes two wide steps forward, before energetically rushing dan heng, who dropped the book in favor of summoning his weapon. Before he can, however, defend himself in any meaningful way, blade has already thrown him over his shoulder. He looks towards the express crew for a minute (all the while, dan heng struggles to get free, "hey- put me down--"), before averting his eyes and wrangling a "goodnight" from his lips. Then he walks- with dan heng over his shoulder- to the room he picked out a while ago.

Upon arrival, he doesn't hesitate to throw dan heng on the bed, before closing and locking the door. He looks around the unfamiliar room. A lot of effort went into it, that much is visible. With the exception of the fairy lights on the ceiling, the room was furnished in a way reminiscent of the luofu. Just more luxurious, dan heng could imagine, maybe if he was the high elder, he would have had a similar room. But chains and prison walls immediately swamp his mind.

Before he realized, blade had freed him of most of his clothes, save for underwear. He froze up, before pulling a blanket over himself. This can't be happening. This man has finally lost the rest of his mind. Tears well up in the corners of his eyes. Blade grabs the blanket, tears it away from him- he's never felt this presented before. Blade leans over him- and wraps clothes around him. Traditional xianzhou sleepwear - high quality, his mind adds - then a teacup gets pushed into his hand. He stares at it.

He blinks once. Twice. A warm hand wipes the tears from his eyes, before resting on his head. The prison swamp is slowly releasing it's hold on his mind. "Oh..." he blushes. This is incredibly embarrassing. He thought he would- against his will-

Only then does he notice that blade exchanged his coat for a sweatshirt. "...you need to rest more." "...wait, do you really care about wether i collapse from exhaustion?" Blade hums, "elios script. You can't die, or get bedridden, until it's time for us to pay the price." He said it sincerely, it sounded like when someone tells you -hope you get better soon, love you- the content didn't match the tone at all.

Dan heng takes a sip. At least until then, he doesn't need to worry about being poisoned, or mutilated beyond recognition. Why would he do that? He loves you, offers a voice in the back of his mind. He ignores it. The tea is... nice. Almost perfect. He must have a more similar taste to dan fengs than he thought. But something's missing. A dried fruit is pushed against his lips. Persimmons. Perfect, offers the voice in the back of his mind again, although... he bites into it. Soft, sweet... blade presses a kiss to his lips. "...so that was missing." Dan heng says, blushing. Blade grins. Incredibly arrogant, no, exceedingly arrogant, with a dimple on each side.

He wraps his arms around dan heng, dims the lights, then he turns on music. Ocean waves and sounds. It's incredibly soothing. He starts placing delicate kisses all over dan hengs face and head. He keeps going until long after dan heng fell asleep. This is the most peaceful rest either of them have gotten in an eternity.

_____

Tl;dr: blade makes a nice bedroom and forcefully invites dan heng.

(It's all nice and calm until suddenly. Blade.)

#i'm eating gilbird #honkai star rail #hsr blade #hsr dan heng #hsr fanfic #renheng

[elkdiaries]

Can you do some party headcanons? ❤️

YES OF COURSEEE

- joyce makes the best mac ‘n’ cheese out of all the parents, and whenever the party stays for dinner she is sure to serve some up.

- dustin and lucas are an absolute menace in what are supposed to be serious situations. the second they shoot each other a glance they’ll both be howling with laughter, so if for example a teacher was scolding the party dustin and lucas’s antics would be the thing to wind them all up in detention.

- conversely, el is a literal angel in the eyes of authority figures and can often get herself out of sticky situations because she takes time to bond with teachers and the like, making them brownies on their birthdays and being sure to wave openly to them in public. she genuinely loves getting to know them all.

- max stands up for literally anyone. anyone at all. if she sees bullies taunting someone outside the arcade, they will be yelled at immediately. 

- will brings a mixtape wherever he goes because often a party member will ask him to control the music. in his party mixtapes he incorporates a little something for everyone’s tastes, as well as his personal favorites and new songs that he believes might interest the party. they all have many songs by the cure memorized.

- i hate canon so the party actually goes all out for lucas’s basketball games, despite not knowing much about the sport. they paint their faces, they wear the school colors, they craft signs (by they i mean everyone except mike and dustin because the two always spill paint on the whole project which forces them to start over), they scream every time lucas makes a basket. throughout the entirety of the game mike pesters will with questions like “wait why did the score just go up three points” or “what’s traveling again” because will is the only one who’s retained any information about the game from watching.

- mike is the prime nickname-maker out of the entire party. his nicknames are always very sweet, compared to max’s, which are things like little punkie (for context see this post) or stalker.

- every valentine’s day, lucas fills max’s locker with extremely sappy pink envelopes containing sweets with “i love you”s written on the wrappers. she secretly adores it all. if mike and dustin see the envelopes, she cannot escape the “OoOooOoOOOOoOoO”ing for the life of her.

- dustin is known for his vast collection of patterned button-ups. if any of the party is ever in need of one, dustin’s the person to go to. max likes to borrow her favorites of these shirts, and it sometimes takes months after she first steals them that dustin realizes his collection is missing a few key items.

- mike’s house is the most favorable sleepover spot. the party constructs one giant bed on the floor out of mike’s mattress and couch cushions, then spread their sleeping bags out on it and rest snuggled together like sardines. this is usually fine until dustin’s sleepwalking or will’s incredibly loud snores wake everyone up.  

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #will byers #el hopper #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #the party #the party headcanons #stranger things headcanons #lumax #byler #el byers #011 #st spoilers

[neo-culture-mafia]

[02:03PM] “Where is he, Mark? They should’ve arrived yesterday.” You questioned for the millionth time that day— pacing around the room as you looked at the window every two seconds.

“I thought you didn’t care about what happened to your arranged husband.” Hyuck muttered, receiving a not-so-nice glance from Mark.

“You’re not helping, Hyuck.” Mark scolded him before walking to you and gently placing both of his hands on your shoulders. “Unforeseen things happen during missions all the time, Y/N. I’m sure they’re on their way.” He stated with a gentle smile on his lips.

“Aren’t they supposed to tell you guys when something happens?” You asked, feeling the cold sweat take over your hands. Your nervousness was starting to show.

“Only when they’re fucked up.” Hyuck added, automatically shrinking his shoulders when Mark turned to him to mouth “I’m gonna kill you” with no sound.

“What he’s trying to say...” Mark turned his attention back to you with the sweetest smile he could put on his face. “is that they only call when they need help, so the fact they haven’t called it’s a good sign. Very good sign.” He assured you.

“Okay.” You finally let a deep breath out of your mouth, trying to let Mark's words sink in and help with your worrying.

“You should go to bed, though. We’re gonna linger around a bit more so we'll tell Renjun that you were worried about him when he arrives.”

“I’m not worried about him.” Your facial expression automatically changed and you adjusted your posture, getting out of Mark's grasp. “I’m just concerned about the others, there are people from my family there too, that’s all.”

“Uhum. I’ll let you fool yourself this time.” Hyuck gave you a sarcastic smile before walking to you with a bit less attitude. He knew better than to keep doing that to you, you had a scary husband. “But seriously, go get some sleep. I'll let you know when he arrives. You barely slept last night.”

Judging by the way Mark and Hyuck were staring at you, you knew that trying to say anything different would be a lost battle.

“Pinky promise?” You asked after sighing at how powerless you were in front of two of your closest friends. “I whole hand promise you.” Donghyuck held up his hand for you to hit, getting a weak smile as an answer from you. “He’s one of the best, Y/N. If there’s anyone in this world that you shouldn’t worry about, it’s him.” He reassured you before kindly scouting you out of the room.

{...}

When Renjun finally arrived at his house, his mind was too tired for him to remember that he was supposed to tell you he had arrived. His feet unconsciously moved towards the bathroom as he quietly repeated to himself that he just needed to take all that blood off of him and that he would feel better. A fallacy to say the least, but Renjun had never felt like himself whenever he had blood stains on him, it just bugged his mind as a constant reminder that one more life had been taken by his gun. Not the happiest thought to have before going to bed.

As he stepped out of the bathroom, finally feeling like himself again, Renjun paced towards your room on the other side of the hallway, ready to knock on your door to tell you he'd arrived and to hear you telling him to fuck off and let you sleep as the usual response. Instead, what he received was much different than expected.

When he was about to knock on your door, he noticed that the door was already open. Your room was empty.

“Y/N?” Renjun called for you. The silence was the only answer. “Shit.” He mumbled to himself, quickly running to your nightstand drawer where he had previously convinced you to leave a gun. It was also empty.

The fear started to grow inside of his chest as Renjun silently walked out of your room. Since you had firmly and kindly stated — or threatened to cut his balls off — that Renjun was banned from ever entering your room without your permission, he still hadn’t had the chance to put any alarms inside your bedroom. The only alarm capable of adverting the rest of Neo Culture in case of trouble was in his room.

Although Renjun had arrived around a few minutes ago, the hall's light was still turned off. He didn’t like to see the bloodstains on him, so he usually would only turn on the lights after making sure he wouldn’t see any reminder of violence on his body.

The fact that his room's light on had passed unnoticed by Renjun, something unusual to happen, only made the fear start to take over his body. Fear was a foreign feeling for Renjun, but when the thought that something might have happened to you occurred to him, he knew this was a rare exception. Someone was inside his house, and you were nowhere to be found. The equation was easy for him.

As much as your marriage wasn’t ideal, Renjun never pushed you away. He understood that you had a temper and that being rude was your way to cope with how fast things had “happened” between the two of you, and even though he didn’t enjoy being treated like shit, he was more than certain that no one had the permission to lay a finger on you. Arranged or not, Renjun took the marriage vows seriously, and someone hurting you was out of the question.

In a second of anger, Renjun ignored all the expert assassin instincts that were screaming for him to check the cameras before attacking- him throwing away the idea to know how many he was going to be dealing with. He ran straight to his room’s door and kicked it open to see a very confused you raising your head from his pillow.

Renjun's eyes were quick to scan your face. You had bags underneath your eyes, very red and swollen eyes, that tipped off that you most likely had cried yourself to sleep. When Mark and Donghyuck mentioned that you were worried about him, Renjun thought that they were just messing around. Now he could see they weren’t lying.

If the situation was different, you would have probably told him to get lost. But as your tired eyes landed on Renjun's figure, relief was the only thing radiating off of you.

You probably looked terrible. You could feel that your hair, your face, your clothes, and even your self-esteem were messed up, but your eyes were still locked on his anyway.

As your brain tried to come up with an explanation, you started to wonder: How could you explain your current situation without completely humiliating yourself in front of the man you thought you despised till yesterday?

“W-what,” your voice failed, causing you to mentally curse at your own stupid voice for not helping. “What’s with the gun?” You managed to say a few words as you quickly sat down on his bed.

“What’s with the crying?” He questioned back, not breaking eye contact with you as he placed the gun on his waistband.

“Uh- Nothing. I just missed my home.” You murmured, cleaning some tears off of your face with your hoodie's sleeve in an awkward manner as your vision tried to adjust to the combination of the room's light + puffy post-cry eyes.

“Oh.” Renjun's stare softened. His heart was still trying to calm down after so many bad scenarios flashed through his mind, so he didn’t even think about whether he would be invading your personal space or not when he sat down next to you. “I’ll ask Chenle to take you to see your parents tomorrow.”

As Renjun's body touched the mattress, your body automatically retracted and you were back on your feet, receiving a confused stare from the previously mentioned.

“I-I didn’t mean it in that way.” The words stumbled out of your mouth as your eyes tried to focus on anything but his face.

Surprisingly, your eyes were met with something you hadn’t seen before. You were so lost in your negative thoughts and crying when you walked into his room that you didn’t notice the small picture frame he kept by the side of his bed. It was your marriage day. You and he were in the picture.

“Huh?” He stared at you in genuine confusion.

No matter how many times you tried to push him away by telling him off or saying that he didn’t have any obligation towards you, he always took your marriage very seriously. He always prioritized whatever you needed, and he would always go beyond his limits just to make sure you had everything you needed.

Renjun never mistreated you. Not even for a second.

“When I married you, this place became my house. Even though I strongly opposed to the wedding, I accepted this as my house.”

“But?” Renjun instinctively asked as his mind was trying to conceive what was going on.

You debated for a few seconds whether or not to say the next words. Yet when you stared at his messed bed sheets that you were lying on instants ago, even if you wanted to, there wasn't any way to embarrass yourself more in front of him than you already had.

“This house isn’t my home without you in it.” You admitted, feeling a heavy burden get off of your shoulders as you let the very last piece of your dignity in Renjun's room before walking yourself out of it without turning back.

#nct mafia au #nct mafia #nct dream #nct renjun #renjun timestamps #huang renjun #kpop mafia au #renjun blurbs #renjun drabbles #nct huang renjun #nct #nct u mafia #kpop blurbs #kpop timestamps #admin 💫

[twofrontteethstillcrooked]

3 Oct. Suptober: Rainbows

With his finger, Dean traced the outline of one of the rainbows arced on Cas's knee. "Is it weird that rainbows remind me of you?"

s15 au; deancas

In hindsight, Cas was preoccupied, not only by the task at hand but by the person he was undertaking it on behalf of, which was likely why he didn't realize he had company in the bunker kitchen until Sam said, "Hey, Cas," and Cas almost fumbled the glass into the sink. 

"Oof, sorry," Sam rushed to say next. 

His expression was a variety of things, none of which Cas clocked as fundamentally apologetic while he refilled the glass. 

Sam cleared his throat. "Whatcha doing?"

Cas squinted at him. Maybe Sam was drunk, or ill. "Just getting a drink of water." He left the statement there; Sam had seen him consume water before.

Sam fidgeted with the hem of his t-shirt and did not look at Cas. "Sure. You." He made some kind of gesture with his hands that did not seem relevant to anything. "You seen Dean lately?"

"He's asleep," Cas offered, since he knew it to be correct.

"In his room?" Sam's voice cracked on the second word.

Cas drew out the word 'yes' into something of a question. What was Sam looking at on the ceiling anyway?

"His room. Which. You just left?" Sam bounced on the balls of his feet for a second.

Cas looked around for intruders, hex bags, strange fogs, spooky auras, blood stains, a bucket of empty beer cans -- something that might explain why Sam was speaking like someone who'd just learned English. 

"Yes, Dean's room." 

Cas suppressed a smile that wanted to surface as his thoughts quickly flitted to Dean -- Dean curled boneless beneath a body-warmed blanket, his eyelashes fanned dark against the tops of his freckled cheeks -- and back again. He sat the glass in the sink and stepped toward Sam carefully.

"Uh huh. Okay." Sam took a step backwards. His line of sight popped back up to the light fixture. "Wearing. ...What it is you're wearing?

Cas glanced down past his bare chest to the flannel covering his legs. "Pajamas?"

Sam nodded a series of tight little nods, like an invisible puppeteer controlling him was getting restless. "Okay. Okay. And Dean is." He didn't trail off as much as seem to run out of ideas for the rest of the sentence.

"Asleep," Cas reminded him. 

Another Sam nod. "Right." 

"He tends to fall asleep for a while within thirty or so minutes after we--"

"Dude," Sam said. 

Understanding clicked into place. "Ah. I apologize, Sam," Cas said, with a small sinking sensation in his stomach. "I did assume Dean had told you." 

He was leaving out some words, and he didn't mean to play coy; it just seemed like perhaps Sam would prefer fewer details over more with regards to -- how to say diplomatically? -- recent developments.

"Dean tell me? Really?" Sam stared at him directly for the first time the whole encounter. His pupils were big black dots reminiscent of the ones he'd had when they were all cartoons for a while.

"No." Cas paused. "But I did think maybe you just knew." 

An honest confession, since Sam, a skilled hunter with decades of experience beneath his proverbial belt, was often quite good at discerning patterns beneath the surface of verbal communication. Cas had not always been as certain of his own feelings as he was in the present. Indeed, it had taken years for what he felt for Dean -- unfamiliar, prismatic impulses occasionally strong enough to almost bring Cas to his knees -- to coagulate into something fierce and unshakeable that could in part be described in words, much less translatable to more tangible actions. Just because Cas had been slow to realize the depths of his own emotions didn't mean Sam had been.

Except.

Sam's eyebrows jumped into his hairline like worms fleeing chicken beaks. 

"What," he choked out. "Why. No. How would I have known about--" He was flinging his hands around again. "--This?" The hands flew toward Cas like Sam was casting a spell at him. "You are like my brother."

"Um," Cas said.

"And Dean is my brother."

"Uh--"

"And I have literally heard him refer to you as our brother."

"Right.”

"Like, we're all brothers here." Sam gave a helpless chuff of laughter.

"Okay."

"So you understand," Sam continued, "why I might be concerned that my two brothers are apparently sleeping together." The volume of his voice went lower in direct counter to its pitch by the end of the sentence.

Cas chose not to comment on this, nor on the shadow that lurked in the doorway and then dissipated. He said instead, "I don't really sleep all that much, but I take your point."

Sam buried his face in the palms of his hands. 

"I'm." Cas swallowed. He stood a bit taller, the way a soldier might when either respectfully yielding to an enemy or accepting that opponent's surrender -- not that Sam was a villain here. "I'm sorry you found out this way, Sam."

"It's." Sam took a deep breath, then coughed once. "You don't have to apologize."

"Sam, could you... There is nothing on the ceiling that could be that interesting."

"You have nothing to be sorry about." Sam spoke like he meant it, or at least wanted to mean it.

Cas let out an inward sigh of relief. "All right."

"The stress," Sam said. "What we do. Monsters. Apocalypses, plural. It's-- I know it's a lot." Now he had slipped into hunter wrangler mode, all rallying the troops and leftover law school pragmatism. "And I can see how the two of you might, you know, need to blow off some steam. Sometimes."

"Sam--"

"Dean always does get a little antsy when he goes a while without." Sam shook his head like he'd realized this was absolutely not a topic he wanted to think about. "You know."

"Sam," Cas said sharply.

"I'll stop talking now."

"I'm in love with your brother, Sam." Those truest words were spoken so easily that once upon a time it might have bothered Cas; in the present, it assuredly did not. He let Sam gape for a moment and then softened the statement with, "It's not just a casual, friends with insurance sort of thing for me. For the record. If that helps."

Sam looked like the human equivalent of the little tri-colored beachball that would spin and spin onscreen when one of his computer tablets got overwhelmed. Finally, his eyes cleared. "All right." His mouth quirked. "The phrase is 'friends with benefits.'" 

Cas blinked. "Insurance is often a benefit extended to citizens in the United States, isn't it?"

"Less often than's helpful," Sam said.

Cas nodded. The two of them stood there by the sink, not really looking at each other. A thought came to Cas.

"I love you too--"

"Dude," Sam said.

Cas held up a hand. "--But I'm not in love with you." This distinction was one that had taken him a long time to understand; it seemed worth sharing.

The ceiling had recaptured Sam's fascination, but he was smiling when he said, "I know." He clapped Cas on the shoulder. "I love you too."

Cas returned the smile. "You, and Dean, and Jack -- you are all my family."

"Yeah." Sam ducked his head, as if pleased. "Yeah, I know."

Cas picked the glass of water up out of the sink. He raised it to Sam in a small toast. "Okay. I'm going to go back to Dean's room now."

"'Night, Cas."

Cas padded back down the hallway, opened Dean's squeaky door, and crept inside the room. The bedside lamp had been turned on. He watched the blanketed lump in the middle of the mattress for movement before asking quietly, "How much of that did you hear?"

"Most of it." Dean sat up and yawned. He scratched at the side of his head where his hair was sticking out. The blanket puddled below his pelvis. Cas glanced away like he hadn't personally and enthusiastically pressed those hipbones into the mattress less than an hour before.

When Cas walked around and put a knee on the bed, Dean said, "I also wanted water."

Cas bumped his arm with the glass. "This is for you."

"Oh," Dean said, taking it from him. "Thanks."

"Because I don't drink all that much water."

"Right."

"Because I don't sweat as much as you do."

"Hmm. You sweat some," Dean said, a hint of slyness in his tone. He leaned away to leave the water glass on the bedside table.

Cas sat on the edge of the mattress and let Dean scoot up to him. "Are you bragging about making me sweat?"

"Mmm," Dean said, splaying his hand over Cas's clavicle. 

"You should probably talk to Sam in the morning."

"This is the morning."

"Later, then."

Dean wrapped his arms around Cas's waist like he owned the span of it. "Yeah, that's not going to happen."

"Maybe you could just--

"Nooo." 

A sharpness tapped underneath Cas's ribcage, an angel blade's point pressed with deliberate aim. It took a minute before he could speak. He gathered his courage. "If you want to stop--"

"No." The word fell from Dean like Cas had knocked it out with his fist. His eyes were fever bright and anguished, and another, better ache flooded Cas's chest at the sight. "No."

"I am very much in love with you." Cas took a breath. "Sam's reaction, I know, wasn't entirely out of nowhere." 

Dean tipped his forehead to Cas's. "I don't think he was objecting so much as he was surprised--"

"I'm only saying, I have thought of you both as my brothers, at various times in the past." Cas studied, not for the first time, a collection of freckles on Dean's shoulder. "I still think of Sam as a brother, in a way. He may not be incorrect that the situation, as it has evolved, is something a bit… Atypical." He considered a further implication. "And each of us is one of Jack's dads."

Dean huffed, a bluff since his fingertips were memorizing Cas's vertebrae like he planned to sketch them later. "Well. We can't all be the goddamn Waltons, or whoever."

Cas agreed, "We definitely do not live on a farm." He let himself sway toward the ardent way Dean was looking at him. "It might be nice to live on a farm, with cows and ducks, maybe some sheep--"

"And I am very much in love with you too," Dean said softly. He pressed his lips to Cas's cheek.

"Yeah?" Cas's eyes felt hot.

"Yep."

Cas thought to say, "You know, Sam is exactly who you raised him to be: a good man."

At that, Dean squeezed his eyes shut. "New rule," he said hoarsely after several seconds. He wiped his eyes and shook his head. "We cannot talk about Sam, like. When we're not even dressed."

Cas stretched out his right leg and wiggled his foot. "I have on these pajamas pants. Can no-one else see them? They're covered in so many things."

This was an understatement. Technically, the pattern contained no less than the following items: rainbows, unicorns, blue whales, yellow stars, shield-wielding pugs, and anti-whale flags, whatever and why-ever those were. Put simply, the pajama pattern was like an indecipherable code of images that seemed to illustrate the illicit drug use of the manufacturer's designer.

With his finger, Dean traced the outline of one of the rainbows arced on Cas's knee. "Is it weird that rainbows remind me of you?"

Cas thumbed a spot on Dean's throat, his mouth going dry with the desire to taste the pulse fluttering there. "In my celestial wavelength form, I suppose I would be more closely related to a visually-deducible electromagnetic wave than I would be a pug riding a whale into glorious battle."

"These pajamas are a work of art," Dean contended, kissing Cas's temple. "Hmm."

"What?"

"I guess that story about God -- Chuck -- using a rainbow to seal a promise about never again destroying earth with a flood is just apocrypha, huh?"

Cas thought about it. "Yes. Unfortunately." He tried not to sigh. "Sometimes I have to remind myself Chuck created some beautiful wonders despite...being who he is."

"Yeah. Going out after a hard rain and seeing a rainbow's colors arching through the clouds -- still seems hopeful." Dean started pulling Cas down beside him on the mattress. "Maybe that's what reminds me of you."

Unable to speak, Cas tucked his face into Dean's throat. 

Dean's fingers were slipping beneath the waistband of the pajamas, ever so slowly. "Anyway, these are mine." Cas hummed an affirmative. "I would like them back," Dean said.

"Now?" Cas heard himself gasp.

Dean pressed him onto his back to nose his way down the line of Cas's breastbone, his warm breath teasing over cooled skin and coaxing out a shiver Cas felt splintering through his whole body. 

"I would settle for you just not having them on at the moment," Dean said, using both hands to reclaim his property, and before raising up to kiss anything Cas might have wanted to say in response entirely out of his mouth.

#spn #suptober21 #fic #deancas #suptober #destiel

[everlarkficexchange]

The Barrier

Author: @hutchhitched

Prompt 77: Married Everlark are coworkers and their marriage is on the rocks. They’ve been sleeping in separate rooms. Divorce looks inevitable. On a business trip, there is *dramatic pause* only one bed. Does the forced closeness lead them to really talk for the first time in months or does it drive them further apart? Smut not required. [submitted by @katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Ratings/Warnings: M; allusions to infertility, divorce, self-loathing

  “What do you mean there’s only one bed?” Katniss hissed at her husband. “We were supposed to have our own rooms, and now you’re telling me we have to share a bed? Did you do this on purpose?”

Peeta glared at her, fury flaring in his blue eyes. If she weren’t so furious herself, she’d push a little harder, but the flint-like nature of his glower convinced her that she needed to steer clear, if only by shutting her mouth once she’d voiced her opinions.

“What kind of idiot do you think I am?” he practically spat at her. “It’s not like I want to spend time with you. I get enough of that at home.”

“A big one.”

“A big one, what?”

“You asked what kind of idiot I think you are. I think you’re a big idiot.”

“Enjoy sleeping on the street,” he said with unnatural calm and turned sharply on his heel. He’d only taken three steps before she crumbled. She had no interest in sharing a bed or a room with the man she’d married a decade ago, but she definitely didn’t have any desire to sleep in the hotel lobby, or worse.

“Oh, come on!” She called after him and hurried to catch up before he made it to the elevator. “You’re not going to leave me hanging. We’re here for work, and neither of us can afford a bad performance review this year.”

“It’d be worth it,” he groused.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Peeta stood to the side so those inside the elevator could clear out and then stepped into the box with his suitcase. He punched the button for their floor and leaned against the wall without bothering to glance her way as she struggled to get inside with her bag.

“Can we not?” he asked tiredly. “You can yell at me all you want in the hotel room, but it’s unseemly in public.”

“Unseemly?” She almost said more, but bit the inside of her cheek instead. She could wait until they reached their room to see how bad the situation was going to be before she said anything else. This whole thing probably wasn’t fair in any way, but she couldn’t help but feel like this was somehow all his fault.

The elevator ride concluded in silence, as did the walk from the elevator to their room. Peeta fiddled with the lock for a full minute and cursed as the red light flashed several times before finally figuring out how it worked and popping the door open to allow them to enter. He flipped on the lights as he entered, and she almost smiled at the familiarity of him scanning the corners for someone hiding in the shadows. He’d started that habit on their honeymoon when they’d not bothered to look before going at it against the door as soon as they closed it behind them. An errant cleaning lady who’d only been dropping off extra towels and pillows had gotten quite a show, very likely one she’d had absolutely no interest in viewing.

The honeymoon was a long, long time ago. So long, in fact, that Katniss wasn’t even sure if she even liked her husband anymore, let alone loved him. They hadn’t been intimate in forever, it seemed, and she hadn’t missed it at all. Well, that wasn’t true. She did miss it. She just wasn’t interested in doing anything with him. All the sexual tension, passion, and lust that had existed between them had simply dried up as real life got in the way. They’d taken out their frustrations and irritations on each other instead of looking for comfort in the other’s arms.

“Do you want to use the bathroom first?” Peeta asked as he set his bag on the edge of the bed and unzipped it.

“First, yes. If it’s okay with you.”

“I don’t care. Knock yourself out.”

He turned his back on her and stripped off his tie before unbuttoning his shirt. He got it over his shoulders and was working on his belt before she shook herself out of her daze and closed the door to the bathroom behind her. Taking her time, she showered and re-braided her hair before brushing her teeth and applying moisturizer. She was just about to pluck her eyebrows when a pounding sounded on the door.

“Can you hurry it up? I’d like to go to sleep sometime tonight.”

Irritated, she jammed her beauty products back in her toiletry bag and ripped open the door. Haughtily, she glared at him and swept by to head to the bed. When she saw what he’d done, she froze.

“What’s this?”

“What’s what?”

“Why are all these pillows in the middle of the bed?”

“They’re making a barrier.”

“Yes, I can see that, jackass. Why is there a barrier of pillows in the middle of the bed?”

“To separate us.”

“But you’re sleeping on the floor.”

“Why the hell would I sleep on the floor?”

“Because we’re not sharing a bed right now. We don’t even sleep in the same room at home anymore. Why would you think we’d do that here?”

Peeta gaped at her, completely dumbstruck. It took a while for him to put words together, but when he did, she wanted to smack him.

“Katniss, I don’t know how to tell you this, but you’re crazy if you think I’m going to sleep on the floor of a hotel just because you decided you don’t want to be married to me anymore. I’ve tried to be understanding, but this is bullshit. I’m not a puppy you can kick.” Peeta shook his head and squeezed his eyes closed and his lips together. She knew that expression because it was one he’d shown much too often in the past several months. That was the look he made when he was about to lose his temper. “Now, I’m going to shower. If you have shit to do, I’d suggest taking care of it while I’m in there because I’m tired, and I’m going to sleep once I’m done.”

She waited until he’d closed the door to the bathroom before ripping the pillows off the middle of the bed. Hell if she was going to sleep in the same bed with him. He’d made a mistake to leave her alone if he thought that was going to happen. She piled the pillows back up against the headboard and then climbed into bed. Once she was directly in the middle, she pulled the covers over herself, set an alarm, and turned off the lights. If she tried, she might actually be asleep before he came back out, and then he’d have to take the floor. They’d barely seen each other in the past few weeks, let alone touched. She certainly didn’t want to start that the night before a big meeting.

It felt like she’d hardly closed her eyes when Peeta exited the bathroom and walked over to the bed. Smirking to herself, she rejoiced in her petty victory. Except… The mattress dipped under her, and she jumped as her husband climbed in behind her. With a shriek, she sprang from the bed and stood clutching the sheets in front of her.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Indignant, she wanted to smack his face. His eyes shone wide and blue with faux innocence that quickly shifted to a self-satisfied sneer.

“I’m going to bed. I told you that before I went into the bathroom. Really, Katniss. You should pay closer attention when I tell you what I’m planning. Someone might think you don’t listen. Not very good for a relationship, you know.”

“I was there!”

“And I put up a barrier, which you demolished. Seemed like an invitation.”

“You are such an asshole,” she sputtered. “Get out the bed.”

“And you’re being a total bitch. Get back in bed, and we’ll stick the pillows back between us. I’m not sleeping on the goddamn floor because you’re too stubborn to actually talk about what’s wrong between us.”

“I’m not sleeping in the bed with you!”

“Then, have fun on the floor.”

Infuriated, she fumed at him with a slack mouth and a hollowed out chest. He knew exactly what to say to hurt her, and maybe that was the problem. He knew her too well, knew all her vulnerabilities and insecurities and disappointments. Because of that, she could hardly look him in the face. If she did, she’d have to admit all the flaws she had, and if she did that, he’d know the same way she does that she doesn’t deserve him. Not in a million lifetimes.

Gutted, she ducked her head as tears pricked at her eyes. He reached for her, but she flinched away from him. She couldn’t handle his compassion, which he offered even when they were at their worst.

“Don’t touch me,” she ordered as strongly as she could, which was a pathetic attempt at regaining control. “Don’t touch me. Just put the pillows back. Please.”

He nodded, and it was almost her undoing. Turning her back, she waited until the rustling stopped before climbing back under the covers and settling on her side. The silence was louder than any noise she’d ever heard. It was matched only by the rush of blood in her ears. She stifled a sob and squeezed her eyes closed as tightly as she could. It wasn’t until she was almost asleep that she heard him.

“Goodnight, Katniss.”

She didn’t bother to answer.

****

Katniss woke to a streak of sunlight on her face and a warm fuzzy feeling that stretched from the pit of her stomach to the tips of her fingers and toes. Safe and warm, she nuzzled into the pillow, only to realize it was hard muscle covered in soft cotton, and there was something stiff poking into her thigh.

She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to risk losing the feeling of being loved and protected and cherished. There’s been so little of that in her life. Since her father died, the only person outside of her family who loved her was Peeta. Peeta Mellark, her childhood sweetheart turned fiancé who became her husband way too young, loved her. Maybe he still did, but it was hard to cling to the possibility. More likely, he wanted a divorce. She’d probably face the rest of her life alone.

She closed her eyes and floated in the sensation of being cared for by someone who didn’t have to want her. The press of muscular thighs and cut hips and…hell, she wanted that. She needed it. Desperate, she ground against the thick shaft and moaned low in her throat. It was matched by one just as frantic and eager.

“Katniss,” he whispered, and she tipped her head back to accept his kiss. He’s a dream, someone who could see past everything she couldn’t accomplish, every failure, every disappointment. “Sweetheart, you feel so good.”

He rolled on top of her and hitched her legs around his waist. They rutted against each other, groaning and whimpering at the pleasure they received from their connection. He made her feel so much better. He made her feel like she wasn’t a failure. He made her feel worthy.

“I’ve missed you so much. Missed you so much.”

Hands scrabbled at her sleep shorts. Heat flooded between them and deep in her gut. She wanted him, craved him inside her, longed for acceptance. Something about him—

“Stop!”

Peeta froze on top of her. His reaction was immediate, which only made her feel worse. She’d lost herself, forgotten who it was in bed with her. She’d led him on and allowed him to think their marriage could survive this when he’d be a million times better off leaving than staying with someone who couldn’t give him what he wanted.

“Katniss?”

“Don’t,” she warned. “Don’t talk to me like you can fix things if you only talk slowly and calmly enough. I’m not a child.”

“Sweetheart, please. Please let me in. I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered fiercely. “Please don’t do this to us.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Tell me what’s wrong. Tell me what I did. Why did you pull away from me? What did I do that was so terrible?”

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to breathe evenly, but sobs choked her. He hadn’t done anything. He’d only ever been a wonderful husband, and all that did was remind her that she couldn’t ever live up to what he should have. He was loved and respected and admired by everyone, and she was suspicious of the world. He could make anyone laugh, while she stood by awkwardly with an uncomfortable expression on her face. There were a million things like that, but the worst was what she couldn’t quite process enough to allow herself to embrace what he wanted to give her.

He wanted children, and she couldn’t give them to him.

She burst into tears, which she knew was the only guaranteed way to get him to back down from the brewing confrontation. He wasn’t so much of a masochist that he’d purposefully provoke a weeping woman, particularly not his wife, no matter how strained their relationship. Like she knew he would, Peeta released her and flopped onto his back on the mattress next to her. He didn’t try to comfort her. Instead, he allowed her to sob as her tears quickly converted from fake cries to full-fledged howling.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed, and he accepted her apology without even demanding to know anything else. She knew he was frustrated, but he held the space for her, without pushing, as she worked through her outburst. Finally, she quieted, and he rolled onto his side and tucked a stray hair behind her ear.

“Better?” he asked with such gentleness in his eyes and voice and touch that she broke again.

“No!” she wailed. “It’s not better. It’s never going to be better.”

Exasperated, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Without a word, he stalked to the bathroom, and she heard the shower turn on and the unmistakable sound of him stepping into it. Embarrassed, she closed her eyes and tried to still her rapidly beating heart. Nowhere in her plan for this trip did she anticipate break down in front of her husband, but she also hadn’t foreseen that they’d have to share a bed. It wasn’t like they’d been doing that at home. Not for months.

“Shower’s free,” he announced as he re-entered the room with a towel slung low on his waist.

His hair, usually ashy blonde and wavy when it was dry, clung to his head as water droplets traced down his chest. A jolt of lust shot through her, something she hadn’t felt for a long time. Without a word, she passed by him to get ready. When she was done, he’d already left for their meeting. The day passed quickly, and too soon they were back in the room together with an awkward silence hanging between them. Peeta didn’t even bother to talk. He simply got ready for bed and curled up on his side with his back to the wall of pillows between them.

Katniss attempted to fall asleep for what felt like ages, but the only thing she could do was listen to the steady in and out of Peeta’s breath. The sound was so familiar to her, and it was even more dear than that. She missed him so much, and, if the morning was any indication, he wanted her as much as she needed him.

“Peeta,” she hissed. When he merely grunted, she moved one of the pillows that separated them and reached across the barrier. “Peeta, wake up.”

“What do you want?” he grumbled without turning toward her. “Sleeping.”

“I want you.”

Peeta rolled over, but he didn’t make any effort to touch her. Pillows still separated them, but the wall they’d built between them was much worse than the temporary barrier. They needed to talk, but she didn’t intend to. She could distract him, she knew. She’d always been able to with a smile and a kiss and her body.

“Talk to me first.”

“Why? What good will it do?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it would fix everything. Maybe, just maybe, we could save our marriage. If nothing else, it might make me think you want me and not just a night of meaningless sex. It’s not like we’ve exactly been jumping each other for the past several months.”

She sniffed at his sarcasm, although she couldn’t blame him. He’d put up with a lot from her, but he’d been kind of awful, too. His kindness earlier in the day didn’t make up for some of the cutting remarks and nasty actions he’d resorted to when he was frustrated. Still, his desperate plea for her to let him in struck at her heart, and she didn’t want to lie to him anymore. If she could just get started, the barrier between them could be dismantled.

“You wanted a baby.”

Her voice waved, but it was out there now. She knew it wasn’t her fault, had gone over the medical issues repeatedly, had processed all of it. Still, she felt like a failure. Knowing and feeling were almost never the same thing when it came to pain and disappointment.

“So did you.”

“It’s not the same.”

He signed loudly. Shifting away from him, she curled into herself at his irritation.

“Sweetheart, I love you. I’ve always loved you. Yes, I wanted a baby, but I want you more.”

“You don’t mean that,” she protested.

“I really, really do.”

“How am I supposed to believe it?”

Peeta sat up and grabbed the pillows between them and tossed them to the floor before grabbing her arm and tugging her toward him. He put his mouth next to her ear and hissed, “I want you more than anything else in the world. Do you feel that? Can’t you tell how much I crave being inside you?”

She shivered at the feel of him hard and plastered against her thigh. How he’d gotten there so quickly, she had no idea, but it gave her ideas, especially since she did some quick math in her head and realized it had been over six months since she’d slept with her husband. They still had a million things to talk about, a thousand misunderstandings to navigate, and a ton of baggage, but the removal of the barrier had begun.

“Peeta?”

When he hummed, she leaned in to kiss him. They had one more night in their shared hotel room. Katniss decided to take full advantage of it, and it didn’t take long before Peeta let her know how enthusiastically he agreed with her plan. Maybe they couldn’t fix what was between them, but it couldn’t hurt to try.

#hutchhitched #katnissdoesnotfollowback #prompt 77 #Springtime Edition 2021 #submission

[d-arkside]

i might start to give in | poe dameron x reader

Warnings: Non-consensual touching/sexual assault, non-consensual sex/rape, somnophilia, gaslighting, physical abuse i.e. smacking, Poe’s a dick. 

Your media consumption is your own responsibility, warnings have been given, DO NOT proceed if these matters upset you!!

Word Count: 1.9k

— xoxo babygirl

“Fuck.”

You know you packed them, you’re so sure that you did. Your sleep shorts have got to be in your bag, there’s just no way you left them back at base. You distinctly remember picking them up out of your dresser and refolding them, you remember fixing the hem on one pair because they always roll up before tossing them into your bag.

So why the hell are you missing both pairs?

You quickly realize you’re missing more than just the shorts when you pour your entire bag out on top of the bed and you don’t even have a single sleep shirt, just the ridiculous looking outfits you’d been forced to bring for the mission.

It doesn’t make sense. You never would’ve left base without something comfortable to change into for this kind of mission. Not when you were being forced to spend all day posing as elitists on Canto Bight, trying to fit in with the extravagant crowds at the hotel bar and casinos. Your pajamas were literally the only piece of clothing you had to make you feel like yourself at the end of the day, and now they’re just gone.

“Fuck!”

“What’s up?” a familiar voice from behind you sounds, and your cheeks immediately heat up as his returning presence alone reminds you of the situation’s most crucial fact.

There’s only one bed. Only one fucking bed.

One bed. No pajamas, only extravagant dresses. Him.

You were going to have to share a bed with Poe Dameron in only your underwear.

“You alright kid?” he asks again, moving behind you to place a comforting hand on your shoulder when he senses your discomfort.

You miss the little smirk that twitches at his lips.

You sigh, running a hand through your hand before slowly turning to face him. “I left my pajamas back at base.”

Poe’s eyebrows raise in surprise, and he steps around you to pick through the contents of your emptied bag, like maybe he’d find them hidden between dresses and shoes.

He had no such luck.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck,” you sigh, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. You’re tired and you just want to go to sleep.

“I can sleep on the floor,” Poe hums, shrugging his shoulders, and you nearly through the closest pillow at him.

“I’m not making you sleep on the floor!”

“I’ve slept in worse-”

“Yeah, okay, whatever, do you see this bed?” It was large, definitely the biggest bed you’ve seen in your life, with so many soft pillows and cozy blankets. When you lay back on it, you sink right in. It was the comfiest thing you’ve ever laid on in your life. “There’s no way you’re sleeping on the floor when we have this bed.”

Poe tilts his head, lips pursed as he thinks.

Or at least pretends to. Not that you can tell a difference.

“You could always sleep in my shirt. I just have the one, but...”

His suggestion makes you blush again, maybe harder than you had before.

If he gives you his only shirt, that means he’ll be shirtless.

And you’ll have to try and sleep next to a shirtless Poe fucking Dameron.

You think you’d almost rather sleep in your underwear.

“Are you sure?” you ask, trying to get your heart to stop racing. It’s only Poe, just Poe. You’ve seen him shirtless plenty of times, sleeping next to him shouldn’t be any different.

Except he’ll be just mere inches from you, and he’s so warm you know you’ll spend all night basking in it, and you’ll wonder what it would feel like to reach out and touch him, to wrap yourself around him.

He interrupts your train of thought.

“Yeah, positive.”

He flashes you a quick smile, then heads towards his bag, rummaging around for just a moment before he pulls a plain white shirt out and tosses it to you. You easily catch it, smile appreciatively, then head to the bathroom to change.

And just like you missed his smirk, you miss the way his eyes follow you, like a hunter targeting its prey. He’s got you right where he wants you.

Sleep doesn’t come very easy — you’re hyperaware of the way Poe is breathing beside you, counting each rise and fall of his chest and trying to match your own to his.

But Poe knows the second that you do fall asleep. He’d been awake the whole time as well, waiting for you to finally succumb to the exhaustion he knew would hit eventually.

He’s not a very patient man. He wants to reach out and touch you the moment he knows you’re asleep, but he doesn’t allow himself to. You’re not far enough under yet, the lightest brush of his fingers will probably wake you.

So he waits. He waits for well over an hour before he finally moves his body closer to yours. You’re so warm, so soft, so entirely perfect. He’s wanted you for so long.

And now you’re wearing his shirt, and you smell like him, and for just a moment Poe can pretend that you’re actually his.

You are his.

He reaches his hand out and lets it fall against your hip, lets his fingers splay out across your skin. He’s touched your arms before, maybe your face once or twice, but Maker your body is so much softer than he ever would have thought. He hums gently, almost appreciatively under his breath, then buries his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply while his hand slowly travels up your body to palm your breast.

He feels like your body was made for him, you fit so perfectly in his hand.

You shift, just a little, and Poe thinks that’s okay. He wants you to be awake now, wants you to feel what he plans to do to you. He just needed you to be asleep so he could get a headstart.

He pinches and rolls your nipple between his fingers before pulling, groaning when he feels it harden under his touch. You stir again and suck in a sharp breath, and he smiles, kissing softly at your neck.

“What are you- what are you doing?” you ask, only somewhat conscious of what’s going on. It only takes you another second or two to realize where his hands are though, and you immediately try to sit up and push yourself away from him, but he only holds you tighter, trapping you there.

“Relax, sweetheart. I’m gonna take such good care of you.”

“Poe-”

He shushes you again and drops his hand away from your breast, but he doesn’t stop touching you. He traces his fingers down your side and you feel your heart pick up in your chest, feel the bit of panic begin to sink in.

“Poe stop.”

He doesn’t listen, his arm around your body tightens even more when you begin to squirm while his hand continues to move downwards until his fingers slip past the band of your underwear. You try harder to break yourself free from his hold, but he’s always been bigger, stronger than you. It doesn’t take much for him to flip you onto your back and pin your body down with his, parting your legs with his thigh, then his fingers are right back to work.

Poe strokes over your folds, moaning as he spreads your slick around. You’re ashamed to admit you’re even just a little wet to begin with, and you try to remind yourself that it’s only your body’s natural reaction.

“Poe stop, please stop,” you whimper, giving one last attempt to get yourself out from underneath him. It’s futile.

“Don’t tell me to stop. I can’t stop.” He drags his fingers down to your entrance, easily sliding just one into your pussy.

You hate that it feels good. You hate that you’ve thought about this before, that you’ve fantasized about him touching you like this, but in your head he always asked first, always let you give consent. That Poe never touched you without permission, would always listen if you ever told him to stop or slow down.

You thought that was the real Poe. You didn’t think he was like this, never in a million years had you thought he would ever do something like this.

“Poe-”

“No,” he says, effectively cutting you off. “No, baby, you don’t get it. I have to do this.”

You furrow your eyebrows, opening your mouth to ask him what he means by that when he pushes another finger into you, and again you hate that it feels good. It feels so good and you hate that your mind isn’t communicating with your body.

This is wrong. This is so wrong.

“You think you can just wear shit like this around me baby?” he growls, dipping his head to nibble along your earlobe as he drives his fingers in and out of your cunt. “My shirt, these fucking lacy panties...”

“Poe please-”

“I have to touch you, you’re fucking making me touch you sweetheart.”

His words make you feel sick to your stomach, and you don’t get it, you don’t understand.

“I’m not making you do anyth-”

He interrupts you again by sitting up, his hand quickly closing around your throat as he struggles to push a third finger into you. The stretch is almost uncomfortable now, but he doesn’t stop thrusting his fingers.

“Fuck, you should be apologizing to me. Yeah, you should be saying sorry for making me touch you like this.”

You’re not sure what it is. You’re not sure if it’s his words or if the situation just now hits you, but you finally start to cry, finally start to break down. Poe grips your chin and shakes your head, shushing you.

“Hey, stop that. Stop crying.”

You shake your head, almost violently so. “No. No, I’m not making you do anything.”

He doesn’t like that, and he growls. His hand drops away from your chin but not even a moment later it makes contact with your cheek. He doesn’t smack you hard, but it’s enough to jolt you.

“Say it. Say you’re sorry for making me touch you.”

“I’m sorry!” you sob, screwing your eyes tightly shut out of fear of being hit again. “I’m sorry Poe, I’m sorry.”

“Good girl.”

He stops. Poe stops, his fingers stop, and for a second, you think you’re safe. You think that’s all he wanted, you think he only wanted to hear you apologize for something that wasn’t even your fault in the first place.

But when he shifts on top of you again, your first instinct is to open your eyes and you watch as he pushes his briefs down just enough to release himself.

You look away immediately, and the tears don’t stop. Poe doesn’t care, he thinks you look beautiful when you cry.

And he tells you this, he tells you this as he slides his cock into you, and you don’t even try to fight back this time. 

You give in. You let him take you for as long as he wants to because it’s your fault and he thinks you're beautiful and it’s Poe. Just Poe. 

But you still can’t stop crying. No matter how many times you tell yourself it’s okay, he called you beautiful, he wants you like you wanted him.

He leans his forehead against yours and shudders when you finally let out a moan. 

“I’m sorry you’re making me do this sweetheart.”

He moans with you.

“But fuck you take it so well.”

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #star wars #babygirl

[ohmyitsfaith]

50 days of learning love/Part 5

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Summary: You’re sick, he’s sick, everyone is sick. Maybe you shouldn’t have stayed close to the sick boy with both of your immune systems being weak.

Warnings: Nothing except the usual swearing

Word count: 3.3k

A/n: It’s been a while since I wrote a part for this, but I really enjoyed writing this. I can’t wait for you guys to read the next part though. It’ll be really fun.

The next day you woke up, you decided to go out and find something to help the sick boy, who was currently asleep, his face sweaty. You watched the boy curl into himself, shivering with fever running through his body. After a bit you sighed and grabbing your bag you started your journey to find something, anything that could help the teenager.

You ended up walking around for hours, but the mission was successful. You found clean water and a handkerchief, which you knew would help you to keep his fever in line if you just make it wet. You also found some herbs that would make a great herbal tea for his sickness.

But it was already noon when you found these and only after that you turned back. So our poor and sick Five woke up without you in sight. His first thought was that that’s it, you left him for good. You have had enough and left him to suffer alone. But then he realized that that didn’t sound like you at all. Because even though he was an asshole to you quite a few times, you always stayed in the end. And still, he was alone at the moment.

Because of his fever and constant shivering, he couldn’t focus on anything. The whole situation got the best of him and tears started rolling down his cheeks. He couldn’t stop himself and for minutes he just cried. Until he convinced himself that if he kept it up, his fever will get worse, so he lay underneath the blanket, curling in on himself. He fell asleep and didn’t even wake up until the middle of the afternoon, when you were back.

When you reached your place, Five was sleeping. Your heart hurt at the sight of the shivering teenager, especially after you saw the tear stains on his face. With a sigh, you lit a small fire and started brewing him the tea. The sweet smell woke Five up and pulling the blanket tighter around him, he opened his eyes and saw you at the fire.

“How are you feeling?” you asked, sensing his gaze at you.

“I thought you left” he said, ignoring the question.

“You’re the only reason I come back” you said softly and finally looked at him. “Come here to the fire. You won’t be so cold then.”

Without another word, he sat down close to the fire and reached out, warming his hands. After a while, you were done with the tea and pouring it into the flask, you gave it to him.

“Drink this. It’ll help” you said.

He took the flask and took a sip. He wanted to spit it back, but swallowed it. He never liked tea, not to mention herbal tea. But he knew that you were right, it will help after a while with his sickness. He looked up from the flask, right into your eyes, when you touched his forehead.

“You have a fever” you stated the obvious, but he was too busy with trying to hide his blush to call you out on it. “If it gets worse, we’ll have to cool you down a bit.”

He slowly nodded. He hated being sick, but hopefully he would get through it in a matter of time. Maybe quicker now, that you were taking care of him with all the stuff you learned in the past. He was grateful that you took up on the job of helping him in his recovery, but did not know how to express his gratitude to you. He was also glad that both of you got through the awkwardness of your confession from the day before.

“Thank you” he mumbled and then froze.

Technically he didn’t mean to just throw that out there, but his mind was so occupied with the thoughts of gratitude, that he couldn’t stop it. He relaxed though as he heard your chuckle.

“You’re welcome, Five. Just don’t be scared to ask for help” you said with a smile on your face.

His face heated up again and he started sipping his tea to mask it. In the mean time, you made the dinner. From then on, the rest of the day went by fast. You ate dinner, then you wet the handkerchief and put it on his forehead when his fever got a bit worse. He was lying most of the time and looking at the dark sky. He shivered a lot and it started to hurt him.

“Just hold on a bit more” you said softly. “I promise it’ll get better.”

His eyes closed and he hoped he’d fall asleep and get a bit of break of the constant shivering. You stayed awake until you saw his face relax, then you checked his temperature again. Thankfully it went down a bit, so you put the handkerchief down and you lay to your place.

And so went the twenty-first day and night.

Five looked and felt better the next day. Your care and the tea you made definitely helped. He was careful still, but he felt stronger.

“Would you like to go for a walk?” you asked. “It might help a bit as well.”

“Yeah” he nodded and with a sigh he was on his feet.

Lightheadedness hit him for a second, but he stayed standing up.

“Do you need help?” you asked softly.

He just shook his head and putting his hands into his pockets he walked towards you. You smiled at him and you started walking around. It was a nice day. It was warm, the sunshines warming you up. You took in the light spring breeze.

You saw Five wobble on his feet and you instantly put your arm around his, knowing that just this small stability will help his case. He looked at you at the contact, but then just sighed and let you. You smiled at that and looked forward.

“Why did you help me?” he asked quietly, but in the dead world, you heard him perfectly.

“Well... you won’t take care of yourself, so I decided that I will” you said, the soft smile still on your face.

“Thank you” he looked at you.

“Any time, Five. Seriously. We’re the only ones here. If we can’t lean on each other, where can we? I’ll be here until... well, you know” you said, the smile disappearing for a second, but then coming back as you continued expressing your thoughts. “And you can always lean on me. If you need any help, I’ll be here, ready to help.”

“Thank you, Y/n. I’m really grateful” he said looking at you from underneath his lashes.

You gave him a smile and you continued your small walk. A very comfortable silence fell between you and you felt no need to break it. Five started feeling more comfortable as well with your presence and your affections and slowly, he moved his hand, so your arm could go better around his own. At that, your smile grew, but glancing at him, you didn’t mention it, seeing as he was fighting off a blush.

After your walk, you spent your day, just sitting at your place. Five worked on the equation, and you just drew in the sand. It was a nice, calm day, with nothing to disturb your peace. You ate your small lunch and decided to take a nap. Five agreed with your choice, so the two of you lay on the mattress, shoulders touching. You were so at peace, that you fell asleep within a few minutes.

However Five took more time before falling asleep. He just watched you sleep with wild thoughts running through his head. Until those thoughts calmed down, his breath matching yours and his eyes closed. He fell asleep with a smile on his lips.

Although originally you only planned to take a short 30 minute nap, it turned into a few hours. You woke up when the sun was only a red dot at the bottom of the sky. Five woke up just a second later and was just as shocked at the length of your nap. But what was there to do? So with a sigh, you went on with the normal things. You lit the fire, but decided against making dinner, since lunch seemed to be only a few minutes ago. So you just talked at the fire, sharing different stories that came to mind, enjoying the quality time together.

And so went the twenty-second day and night.

You felt awful. You sighed at the realization and lay your head back, looking at the sky.

“You okay?” was Five’s first question to you.

“Do I look okay?” you turned your head to the boy.

“If we’re being honest? No” he said.

“You made me sick” you said and at his slightly offended expression, you laughed, before explaining. “I mean that I caught it from you.”

“Oh...” he said, realizing.

“Yeah. But it’s all good. I’ll get through it” you sighed and sat up. “I always do.”

“But you’re not alone anymore” he said quietly.

“You don’t have to do anything, just because I did that for you. I’ll catch it before it can hit me for real” you smiled at him and sat down in front of the fireplace.

But your power did not want to work. You looked down at your hands, confused and Five seeing this, he sat down next to you and started lighting the fire manually.

“Maybe you won’t be able to catch it before it hits” he said while working on the fire.

You sighed and leaning back against the mattress, you crossed your arms.

“I do not like this” you said to him.

“Yeah, well you don’t have a choice” he looked at you.

“I know” you sighed.

Five let himself smile for a bit, then finished the fire. He grabbed the herbs, but did not know what to do with it, so he turned to you.

“I’ll do it. Thank you, Five” you smiled at him.

He stayed close to you and watched how you made the tea. He studied every step, so if this ever happened again, he could do it himself. You smiled at his intense attention and looked at him for a second.

You finished the tea and again, put it in a flask. You sat back into the position you were before and continued what you were doing yesterday.

But as the day progressed, you felt more and more uncomfortable. The way you were sitting, where you were sitting, everything. Even though you were sitting on the mattress, it felt too uncomfortable. Five noticed this and for minutes, he was thinking how could he help you. Getting to a decision, he stood up from the chair, walked over to you and sat down next to you.

“Come” he patted his thighs. “Lay down. It’ll feel more comfortable than sitting.”

A blush rose up on your cheeks but Five’s face wasn’t better. You sighed and lay down like he asked. Your face burned like never before. He took a deep, shaky breath and continued working on the equation. You calmed down too after a bit of time passed. You absentmindedly played with the slightly torn fabric at his knees as he wrote in the notebook. You slowly fell asleep on his lap and Five noticed it after a few minutes.

He sighed and with slightly shaking hands he reached down and touched your hair. He took in a sharp breath as his fingers seemed to move on their own. They started stroking your hair and he heard you sigh in your sleep. He pulled the blanket up on you when you pulled your knees a bit more to your chest.

You stayed in that position for a few hours. You slept while Five caressed your hair and looked over his equations, at times correcting some things. You woke up in the late afternoon and felt Five’s hand in your hair.

“Do you feel any better?” he asked.

“Yeah” you said quietly. “A bit.”

“I’m glad.”

You slowly sat up and picking up the flask, you drank the remaining herbal tea. Then you hesitantly leaned your head on his shoulder. He stiffened, but let you be there. His mind raced with thoughts about how close you are.

And so went the twenty-third day and night.

At the morning, you woke up to a source of warmth leaving you. You opened your eyes and saw Five stretch.

“What are you doing?” you asked in a slight morning voice.

“I’m gonna go out and get water” he said looking at you.

“Please don’t leave me. I don’t want to be alone” you whispered.

“I’ll be back” he kneeled down next to you. “We’re just running out of water.”

You closed your eyes, squeezing them shut, not wanting the tears to escape. You knew it was stupid to cry, but fever does that to people. Getting oversensitive and all...

Five’s heart fell and put his hand on your head.

“I’ll be back by noon. I promise you” he said, caressing your hair again. “Please don’t cry.”

You took in a breath, pushing through the stupid tears and opened your eyes. You looked right into his eyes. His hand went down to your cheek and you leaned into his touch. He gave you a small smile, then stood up and grabbed his trunk. With one last look back at you he started walking.

True to his words, he was back by noon. But those few hours were almost torture for you. Your mind in your feverish state kept showing you worse and worse images, both from the past that you’ve actually seen, and images that it made up itself. You were a whimpering mess, especially that you couldn’t even light a fire so it would give you a bit of warmth. Thankfully Five came back with water and he immediately crouched down to you.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Like someone lit me on fire and dropped me into a big pool of ice at the same time” you whined.

He put a hand on your forehead, and true to your words, you had a fever. He poured a bit of water on the handkerchief like you did just a few days ago and put it on your forehead. You whined at the cold, but you knew it was needed. He made your lunch while you tried to cool down a bit and then he helped you sit up. He sat down next to you and you leaned on him. He gave you your part, but you really didn’t want to eat.

After forcing some solid food in yourself and him eating his lunch, he gave you water before he laid you down. He pulled the chair next to the mattress and after putting the handkerchief back on your forehead he sat down and resumed his work.

You fell asleep, trying to sleep through the sickness, but ended up having a fever dream that was so disturbing to your mind, that after only an hour it woke you up. You were sweating hard and panting as you sat up. The already dry handkerchief fell off of your forehead and you put your head in your hand, trying to calm down. Five looked up at you from his writing and concern filled him.

“Bad dream?” he asked and you slowly nodded. “Do you need anything?” he asked again and you shook your head. “Okay.”

He put a hand on your back as you sighed. He was still concerned for your well-being, but didn’t push it.

After fighting off the panic caused by your disturbing dream, you asked him to walk with you a bit. So you two ended the day with a longer walk, your arm around his. You ate some dinner, feeling better after the sleep even though it was bad. And then after some stories, you both fell asleep next to each other.

And so went the twenty-fourth day and night.

You woke up with your legs entangled with Five’s. Your head was on his shoulder and a hand rested on his chest. One of his hand was in your hair while the other around your waist. It felt weird. You never ended up being this close to Five, even though you slept next to each other. But before you could move away, Five woke up.

He was just as confused as you. But he didn’t mind it. Not for one bit. Sure, he was embarrassed and a soft blush adorned his face, but he was weirdly okay with it.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, feeling peaceful.

“Better” you said, calming down at his voice. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“I’ll take care of you as long as you need me” he said sincerely.

You were both shocked at how soft it was, but a smile grew on you face.

“And I’ll take care of you as long as you need me.”

Five smiled too, thankful to have someone like you next to him in the time of need. He slowly started to realize that those feelings that he thought were just friendly, maybe they weren’t so friendly anymore. But he stopped his mind and convinced himself that you were only becoming his best friend.

A best friend who made his heart beat faster and his blush to rush to his face at every affection.

He furrowed his brows at his own thought. Yeah, he blushed a lot, but that was only because he was never used to affection. I mean... who would’ve given him? His shit excuse of a father who treated them as an experiment and constantly abused them? Or his siblings who always gave him a headache with every chance they got? Or his robot mother who... He didn’t find and excuse for that. Maybe he just wasn’t his mom’s favorite. Or for the matter anyone’s favorite.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked, your soft voice breaking through his thoughts.

For a bit, he thought if he should say the truth or just lie about it. But you were always sincere with him, telling the truth at every given situation. Well... for the most part. So he decided.

“Just how I never got much affection from... anyone really” he said, the half truth slipping easily out of his mouth.

“Does it make you feel weird?” you asked.

“At the beginning it did. A lot. But now... only a bit maybe” he answered.

“Do... do you want me to stop?” you asked, scared.

“No” he said quickly. “No... it... uh... it feels good.”

“Thank you for trusting me enough to let me get this close to you” you said gratefully as you snuggled closer to him.

“And thank you for becoming my best and only friend I have ever had” he smiled, squeezing your waist a bit.

“Can we... uh... lay like this? Just for a bit more?” you asked.

“Yeah... yeah I’d like that” he said softly.

Well that “bit more” ended up becoming a few hours. To be more exact, until noon. You just lay there, talking about everything and nothing. Anything that came into mind, you shared with the other. Except if it was about your feelings toward the other. That, you kept for yourselves. But other than that, anything could come. Weird childhood stories? Get it in! Stories about Five’s missions with the Umbrella Academy? You know it. The story about that one time you actually could’ve met him if he didn’t disappear? Put it in the bag. So really, anything.

Since you felt much better, you ended up eating well. Well... as well as you could with the small amount you had there. After that, you spent the rest of the day just like you would’ve any day with the exception that it was colored with your open feelings.

And so went the twenty-fifth day and night.

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[aperrywilliams]

New blurbs-series: 10 days to my birthday!! (Day 4)

(Not my gif)

Author Masterlist - Series Masterlist

My birthday will be in 4 days from now. So I’m going to celebrate myself with 10 Spencer Reid’s blurbs. Enjoy! (This one is longer too)

Day 10 | Day 09 | Day 08 | Day 07 | Day 06 | Day 05 | Day 04 | Day 03 | Day 02 | Day 01

Day 04: Spencer Reid kiss you for the first time.

Tiredness washed over your body after recently finishing a grueling case. Apparently the serial killers were having a feast across the country, and it had the team working overtime for several weeks now.

You accepted the fact job was like this sometimes. The whole team knew and accepted it too. But at this point, all of you just wanted was to get home and sleep until next year.

You were getting on the elevator when you saw Spencer jog to catch up with you.

“(Y/N)! Wait !,” the young doctor told you before the door closed. You managed to stop it and he managed to get on.

“Sorry Spencer, I didn't see you coming,” you apologized.

“Don't worry, I didn't mean to scare you,” he muttered.

“It’s okay. I guess sleepiness has us all drained.” Spencer nodded.

With Spencer things were going well, although it was a strange thing. Until that day you had two ‘pseudo dates’. The term ‘pseudo’ applies because none of the two could reach term as you both had been originally planned.

The first date was dinner at a fancy restaurant that Spencer insisted on taking you. Despite the fancy of the place, you guys managed to relax and have a good time. That, combined with the adoring looks you both exchanged from time to time. Everything was going smoothly until your phones began to ring. A new case forced you guys to finish the lovely evening and rush to the BAU.

The second date was a week and a half after the first. You suggested something more relaxed to Spencer: go see a movie and then eat something at a nearby restaurant. Everything was going well during the movie, you both even held hands at times. As you guys were leaving the theater, Spencer's phone began to ring insistently. It was a call from the sanitarium where his mother was in Vegas, where they required him to contact her as soon as possible. It wasn't anything serious, but it was important, which is why Spencer apologized to you for ending the date early. You understood and tried not to make him feel bad about it.

The elevator reached the floor where the parking lots were. The doors opened and you both got out of the elevator.

“(Y/N)... I was thinking. I know we're both very tired now, but... maybe tonight we could have our third date... and... maybe now we can finish it?”. You smirked at the statement. Clearly Spencer looked as frustrated as you that you both couldn't have had a proper date so far. Although it was strange to think of it that way: what was an appropriate date after all?

“Sure we can. Tonight is okay for me. What do you want to do?”. You asked Spencer. He blushed a little and cleared his throat before speaking.

“Ehm, I thought it might be a surprise?... if that's okay with you”. You could feel your heart race after hearing his words.

“Oh. Ehm, that's fine. If you want it to be a surprise, that's fine with me,” you replied.

“Great! Can I pick you up at 8 pm?”. He asked happily.

“Yeah. Perfect. At 8 pm I'll be ready,” you replied with a big grin.

It was around 2 pm when you arrived at your place. That left you plenty of time for a little nap and getting ready for your date with Spencer. Almost out of inertia you dropped into bed and quickly fell asleep. You woke up around 6 in the afternoon. You took a shower and started getting ready. You didn't know if you should go for very fancy clothes, since you didn't even know where Spencer would take you, so you chose something that could fit different scenarios.

When you were ready, you looked in the mirror and were satisfied with the result. You went to the kitchen for a soda when your phone started ringing. You looked at the time and it was 7:30 pm. You frowned when you saw that the caller was Hotch.

“Hotch?,” you answered.

“(Y/L/N), sorry to call at this time, but we have an urgent case in Tucson, Arizona. See you on the tarmac in 30 minutes”.

More than one expletive came out of your mouth in record time once you finished the call with Hotch. The minute you got a message from Spencer. ‘I guess Hotch already called you. I'm sorry. SR’.

Defeated you went to your room and changed into your work clothes. You took your bag and left the apartment.

You just exchanged a few glances with Spencer on the jet. You didn't even want to sit next to him this time. You knew you were being unfair to him, after all it wasn't his fault. But you didn't know how to channel your frustration, so you preferred to isolate yourself from the rest during the entire flight.

Spencer knew you were upset and didn't know what to do to make amends for the situation. It wasn't his or your fault, but he felt responsible anyway. While studying the case file, Spencer couldn't help but look where you were sitting and see how your gaze was lost in the clouds the jet caressed with its wings.

The case had you all four days in the search for an elusive unsub. But finally, you managed to locate his hiding place and make the arrest with no more victims to regret.

It was around 7 pm when you finished the paperwork at the police station. According to your estimate, that would allow you all to be on the jet at 8 pm and travel at night. You could at least sleep a few hours during the flight. But if things had not turned out the way you wanted for weeks, this was no exception: Hotch approached to the team in the meeting room and announced that the jet had a malfunction, so you would have to stay one more day in Tucson and fly the next day. You couldn't help a weary sigh and grab your things by quickly leaving the room. The whole team stared at you curiously, but you no longer cared. You just wanted to go home and sink into your mattress, cover yourself up to your head and disappear the world for at least a week.

Spencer came out looking for you and found you before you got into one of the SUVs to go to the hotel.

“Wait!”. He said to make you stop. “I'm going with you. And... let me drive, I don't think it's a good idea for you to drive while being so upset”. You thought about it for two seconds and yes, he was right. You handed him the keys and climbed into the passenger seat.

“I'm sorry Spencer, maybe I made a scene in there, but I'm just tired. I just want to get out of here...,” you trailed off.

“I know. And I'm sorry our third date was ruined too”. He tried to apologize. Your eyes softened.

“Don't apologize Spencer, things just haven't worked out, but it's not your fault. Maybe it's a sign?...”. You tried to joke. Spencer frowned.

“Don't say that. I'm not going to stop insisting until it works!”. You both started laughing.

When you saw that Spencer turned right instead of left on one of the avenues on the way to the hotel, you thought he was confused.

“Spencer... the hotel is on the other side, you turned right instead of left...,” you corrected him.

“Oh...,” was all he said, but he made no move to change the route. What's more, you were surprised to see that he took Highway 86 to the west.

“We're not going to the hotel, are we?”. You asked. You could see a small smirk on Spencer's face.

“Nope. Maybe I might have a surprise for you?,” he said making a brief eye contact with you before turning his gaze back to the road.

“Oh”. It was the only thing you said. Your heart began to pound in anticipation. What was going on in Spencer's head at the time? You asked yourself.

After almost an hour of travel, with the sun already disappearing and many curves in the road, you saw a sign that said "Kitt Peak National Observatory". Spencer began to speak.

“Well, I may have had to change some of the original plans I had for our third date, I hope you don't mind,” he said simply, as he parked the SUV.

Once out of the car, Spencer took your hand and led you towards one of the buildings where there was a guard at the entrance.

“Good evening, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, I spoke with Dr. Hammond this afternoon for a visit...”. The guard looked at his tablet and nodded, smiling, opening the door letting you and Spencer in, and leading them up the stairs to a terrace.

“Dr. Hammond apologizes for not being able to be with you tonight, but is certain that you can have a good evening here. Whatever you need I will be at the entrance.”

You were stunned, the terrace was an open space that allowed you to see the sky in all its splendor. In the center was a small folding table with two chairs, a makeshift tablecloth, two glasses, a jug of fresh water, a small bottle of wine, and two sandwiches. Looking at Spencer he smiled at you.

“I guess this area is not open to the public at night and less with the possibility of an improvised dinner...,” you told him.

“Well, my friend Dr. Hammond may have made a slight exception. But say ‘dinner’, however, I think would be an exaggeration,” Spencer said, pointing to the two sandwiches.

“This is better than what I expected to eat at the hotel, so it does qualify as dinner for me,” you said taking his hand and squeezing it gently. He looked at you with adoring eyes without letting go of your hand.

“I'm sorry that our previous dates were ruined (Y/N), I've wished they were perfect so much and seeing you as frustrated as I am makes me sad”.

“Don't say that. In the end the idea is to spend time together and although our previous dates have not gone as planned, every minute that I can be with you counts for me”. You could see how his eyes shone in the light of the stars that seemed so close. Spencer never stopped looking at you and with his free hand began to caress one of your cheeks.

“I like you so much (Y/N), I don't know how I could go so long without being able to tell you, just like I don't know how I could last so long without doing this...,” he whispered to you.

“'This' what?”. You asked without even wanting to blink.

“This...,” Spencer repeated in a whisper barely audible to you, as he leaned in slowly until his lips brushed yours. You could feel how your whole body was electrified by the sensation. Spencer's soft, warm lips barely parted from yours. He expected to see your reaction, begging you not to reject him or feel uncomfortable. To prove otherwise, you let go of his hand and wrapped your arms around his neck to draw him closer to you. 

That was the invitation Spencer needed to now kiss you properly. You both got lost in that moment you waited for so long. It was perfect. You realized that this kiss could have been anywhere and it would have been just as perfect. The stars above your heads only made it more magical than it already was. But it was not the important thing. The important thing was that Spencer kissed you for the first time and you kissed him back. And that fortunately this time nothing would break the moment because on that terrace, the cell phones signals weren’t working.

——

Permanent Taglist: @dreatine​​ @andiebeaword​​ @paulaern​

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #10 days to my birthday #aperrywilliams #criminal minds #mini series

[whumpingcrow]

Pt. 12 "It's Already October?"

CW: PTSD themes, nightmares, insomnia, dishonesty about mental state, past noncon/dubcon mention, past abuse mention, emotional abuse, panic attack, tics/tourrettes, food mention, slapping mention, injury mention, blood, self harm (explicit), razor mention, bondage mention, drugs/alcohol (explicit), August is sort of in this one, oblivious caretaker, party setting, halloween setting (Let me know if I missed anything!)

(Note, as a general warning these two upcoming chapters are going to be pretty graphic with descriptions/intensity of the situation, and I really want to reinforce that I prefer if these stories are viewed by 18+ readers, and is read with discretion <3 -Crow)

The last time that Elias had talked to Allen, he had promised that things were going to start getting easier, that the pain and the fear would ebb and it would all begin to feel ok very soon. Elias was beginning to think that he had a different idea of 'soon' than Allen did, because he wasn't feeling like it was getting any better. If anything, it seemed like it was only going to keep getting worse. His nightmares were so violent and often that he didn't even put in effort to sleep anymore, he simply stayed up after the first time he was jolted out of his sleep. After that he would always sneak out of the room around Tyson and busy himself with something until he woke up as well. He was constantly tired, sure, but it was ridiculously hard to convince himself to close his eyes and force himself back into a nightmare once he was already awake. It made him feel incredibly ashamed, but he was getting rather good at hiding how much all of it was really wearing down on him from Tyson, how he wasn't allowing his injuries to heal, how he was always terrified and exhausted. Except that this didn't exactly go in his favor, because he was acting so good that Tyson decided he could go back to work.

"I'm not working the full shift, so I'll be back before you even know it. You'll probably sleep the whole time, won't even know I'm gone." He smiled at Elias, who was sitting at the edge of the bed watching him get ready. "If you need anything, you can call Leo or Allen, or me if you don't wanna call them."

Elias nodded, only out of obedience, he didn't want to bother anyone by calling them in the middle of the night. He could deal with it himself, just like he always did. "You look nice in your scrubs," he said, to deflect the attention off of himself, "like one of those hot doctors from that show."

Tyson laughed and flopped onto the mattress next to him. "Yeah? This pale blue really brings out my eyes, huh?" He melted as Elias laughed, the sound of it was light and, if he dared to think, happy. Maybe he was gonna be just fine, he seemed like he was doing alright so far. He was hopeful, and the fact that he was about to leave Elias alone all night and he was alright enough to be laughing had to be a good sign, right? It was ironic, but it seemed like Elias was less nervous about the whole situation than Tyson was. With a small sigh, he reached over and smoothed out a wrinkle on the sheets and mumbled, "I'm gonna miss you."

At that, Elias turned his gaze away from him, trying not to let his upset that he was leaving show. "You'll be too busy to miss me." He insisted, forcing as much humor into the sentence as possible.

"I highly doubt that." Tyson pulled him against his chest, kissing his cheek gently. When he thought about having to stand up to leave, dread filled his chest and weighed him down enough to stay put. He tried not to think about how someone might break in, how they might take Elias away from him again, how he would be powerless, so far away. August was in jail now, he reminded himself, Elias would be ok.

"You're gonna be late, Doctor." Elias teased him, pushing him away playfully. He smiled when Tyson sighed heavily and stood up, looking him up and down.

"Ok... I'll see you in the morning. Promise you'll call someone if anything happens?" He waited for Elias to nod, then grabbed his bag and turned to the door.

He only made it a few steps before he heard Elias stand up, his voice small and scared as he breathed, "Tyson, wait."

"Hm?" He looked over Elias, who had his arms wrapped around himself and looked like he might fall over any second. He was silent for a long time, squeezing his hands tightly around the materiel of his shirt, looking like he was too nervous to say what was on his mind.

"I love you," he finally muttered, "that's all. Have a good night."

Tyson grinned at him and crossed the room again to kiss him. "I love you too. Get some rest."

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

Whatever movie was playing on the TV was boring, Elias couldn't seem to focus on it. He had been sitting on the couch the majority of the night, smoking weed every time he felt uneasy. He got up a few times to double-check that the door was locked, just to make himself feel a little better. It was painfully lonely without Tyson, without the simple knowledge that there was someone else in the house with him. He debated calling him, just to hear his voice, but he didn't want to take him away from his work. Then he wondered if maybe he should call Allen, that he might have some advice about being alone. Really he felt like he just needed someone to talk to, someone to tell him that he was doing alright.

"Everything you're doing is wrong," August was sighing, shaking his head disdainfully. The disappointed glare in his deep blue eyes could've killed Elias, made his chest ache so painfully every other injury he'd ever gotten from August paled in comparison. August was a monster, a sadistic devil of a man who's main goal seemed to be causing everyone else around him misery. So then, Elias found himself wondering time and time again, why was displeasing him so upsetting? Why did Elias feel like he was crumbling to pieces without his approval? "Tyson's too soft on you. But you know that, of course, don't you sweetheart?"

"I'm trying to do what you taught me it's just...he doesn't care. I don't know what to do."

"Yes you do. You've got to be punished, my love." Just like always, his voice was disgustingly honeyed, even as August grabbed him by the throat and pinned him to the ground. Elias didn't even see him grab them, but there were the ropes again, tight around his wrists as always, and Elias couldn't move, and he could see the glint of the razor inching closer to his skin.

"August please God, no! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Please I'll do better!" He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, August was going to slice into him again and he couldn't handle anymore pain.

"You know you need it, Elias. Remember, it's to help you be better. Don't you want to be better?" His voice was sweet, almost caring, even with the corner of the razor digging into his skin.

Elias didn't remember falling asleep, but all at once he was bolting off of the couch and gasping in frenzied breaths, looking around the dimly lit room for any sign of danger. He was alone still, there was no one with him. As soon as he realized it was only a nightmare, he blindly reached forward until his hand brushed the glass pipe on the table. He didn't waste any time pulling it toward him so that he could get high again. Even though the smoke made him cough, he felt like he could breathe a little better the foggier his head got. He checked his phone, disappointed when he saw Tyson hadn't checked up on him yet and that it would still be hours until he got back. Without meaning to, he thought back to the nightmare, what August was saying. His subconscious August, at least.

Would he feel better if someone hurt him? Would it make him stop lying and hiding what he was feeling if he just got into trouble for it once? He knew Tyson wouldn't ever lay a hand on him, and August was long gone. But the more he lingered on the idea, the more he realized how much he needed the pain. His anxiety only began to worsen again as he dwelled on it, so he stood up and tried to busy himself by cleaning up. It helped for a bit, he was mostly distracted enough that he didn't think of the nightmare or the idea of being punished, until he got to the bathroom.

He was paralyzed the second he saw the large straight razor sitting menacingly on the shelf of the medicine cabinet, similar to the one August had used on him. He could feel the sharpness of it without even touching it, he was familiar with the sting and the burn that came when it was dragged heavily against his skin, he remembered the dull soreness of the injuries when they started healing. What he didn't know was how it would feel to hold it, though, he had never been allowed to touch it in that way. He wondered how heavy it would be, if it would be cold or not. His hand was trembling as he reached out and picked it up, his breath bated as he looked it over. It was so god damn sharp. If someone were to hold it to his skin and just ruin him, he imagined it would probably be like pushing a reset button, like he would be brand new when it was all over. At the thought, he set it down and pulled his sweatshirt off, not even bothering to look at himself in the mirror, grabbing the razor again once his shirt was on the floor. There was nothing he wanted more than to cry at the dangerous thoughts running through his head, but at the same time this felt like the only option. He placed the razor over the healing cuts on his forearms, taking a few ragged breaths to gain some courage.

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

Tyson felt bad when Elias flinched awake as he crawled into bed with him, he seemed to be sleeping so peacefully. He looked lost and scared as he sat up, squinting through the dark at Tyson.

"Just me, love. I was gonna come sleep with you for a bit, is that ok?" He asked him, finding his hand on the blanket and brushing his fingertips over it.

Elias's shoulders dropped back to relaxed and he moved closer to Tyson, allowing him to pull him against his chest as they laid back down. "How was work?" He whispered.

"It was alright. How was your night?" He rubbed up and down his back, trying not to be bothered as he felt his spine underneath his hand.

Elias was silent for a while, then he cleared his throat. "I missed you a lot. It was lonely here."

"Yeah, I bet. Did you sleep well? I mean, before I woke you up."

"Uh...yeah, sort of. I stayed up late though. Watched a movie." He snuggled closer to Tyson, against his bare chest, sighing at the warmth.

They talked for a little longer, until Tyson was too tired to stay awake, and then Elias just stayed close to him and listened to him breathing for a long time. He couldn't fall asleep again, mostly because he didn't want to wake Tyson up if he had a nightmare, but also because he couldn't get comfortable with all of the new cuts on his arms.

There was a lot more blood than Elias was expecting, and he was too shocked to move for a second as he watched the red ribbons stream down his skin, and then a sort of sick calm washed over him. He didn't remember it feeling this relieving when August did it, but, God, did it feel like a breath of fresh air. So he just kept going, and soon he was covered in blood, like he was used to, and he turned off the light and sat at the bottom of the shower for awhile until the bleeding stopped.

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

After the sun started to shine through the curtains, Elias slipped out of Tyson's arms carefully and made his way to the kitchen, busying himself by making breakfast. He made himself some coffee while he waited for the french toast to cook, then he began to cut up some fruit. It felt odd to hold the knife after hurting himself the night before, and he found himself shaking slightly. He was doing everything he could to stay busy, he felt like if he stopped moving he would sit down and fall asleep, and he couldn't handle another nightmare. He didn't want to see August anymore, he wanted it to really be over, and when he was dreaming about him it was like actually being around him again.

"That smells amazing." Tyson remarked as he came into the kitchen. Elias jumped hard, nearly dropping the knife that he was holding.

"Jesus," he huffed, trying to breathe so his heart would stop racing, "I didn't know you were awake."

Tyson sighed as he leaned against the counter, looking around at all the food. "I just woke up."

Tyson looked so good, his dark, curly hair was messy, his face was still tired and he was shirtless and his voice was gruff from sleep. Elias set the knife down as carefully as he could and walked over to him, wrapping his arms around his torso and hugging him close. "Well, good morning, then."

"Good morning. How long have you been awake?"

"Oh, uh...I um..."

"Did you go back to sleep after I got home?" He pulled away from Elias and inspected his face. He had dark circles under his eyes, but he couldn't really tell if it was from lack of sleep or the healing bruises. Tyson knew he was getting thinner from holding him, but now that he was looking at him harder, he could see it in his face, too. He frowned as Elias shook his head, then placed his hand over his cheek.

"I'm sorry," Elias choked out, fearful over the disdainful look on Tyson's face, "I tried to, I just couldn't...I just didn't wanna have another nightmare-"

"Hey, it's ok, love. You've got nothing to be sorry about."

Even though his voice was nothing but sweet and loving, Elias turned away from him with a frustrated sigh. "For fucks sake, Tyson!" He groaned, grabbing the counter to steady himself. "I'm fucking up so bad why cant you just, like, fucking yell at me or something!?"

Tyson was shocked at the outburst, gawking at him for a moment, left speechless. He was angry at him for not being angry? Allen had been similar when he first got back, tried everything he could think of to get the people around him to see that he was bad, that he was deserving of pain, but that stopped for the most part once he realized that the people around him were safe and wouldn't hurt him even if he wanted them to. He could see Elias shaking where he stood and he felt helpless in that moment, like there was no way he could comfort him.

"Elias," he said softly, stepping carefully toward him, "you have been through more pain and fear than anyone should have to deal with in their entire lifetime. I can't imagine how hard it is for you to adjust after that, and I'm not going to punish you because you're having a hard time."

Suddenly, Elias burst into tears, caving in on himself as his shoulders shook in sobs. "You don't understand! I'm so...I need...I need you to fucking...! God fuck Tyson!"

"Baby calm down." Tyson moved to grab his shoulders in some attempt to soothe him, but Elias turned and shoved his arms away, stumbling back from him. "Elias, please-"

"Shut the fuck up! Shut up Tyson, stop being so fucking nice to me!" He covered his face as he cried, sinking down to the floor with a thud. Tyson sat down across from him, hands to himself, and watched as he began to rock back and forth a little.

"I love you Eli-"

"Stop it! Please stop it!"

"-I love you so much and you're not doing anything wrong."

Elias only got more hysteric at that, his breathing so quick and labored that Tyson was worried he might pass out. When Elias began to tic and hit his injured hand against the ground, Tyson grabbed his wrist to hold him still. Elias fought harder, screaming to be let go, for Tyson to "stop fucking touching him!" and thrashing in his grip. He wasn't going to calm down, not like this, not on his own, and he was hurting himself, so Tyson had no other choice. In one quick movement, he slapped Elias across the face.

He felt bad instantly, of course, but Elias grew still, apart from his body trembling and his shoulders rising and falling with his labored breathing. He looked up at Tyson, fear etched into every detail of his face. After a few seconds of silence, he dropped his head down and took a deep breath.

"Th-thank you," he breathed, his voice just as shaky as his body, "thank you, Tyson."

Tyson shook his head, fighting the tears in his eyes as he stood up. "Come here."

Elias slowly pushed himself to his feet, sniffling a few times and trying to steady his breathing. He stiffened when Tyson grabbed his shoulders, only bowing his head further in submission. He fought the familiar dread he usually had when August was only just beginning a punishment, when he knew he was going to be weak and broken and near death in a moment. Logically, he knew Tyson wouldn't hurt him as bad as August would, but after being hit, his brain went right back to that same fearful, trained head-space.

"Look at me, baby," Tyson whispered. When Elias shook his head and grew even more tense, Tyson took a step toward him. "Eli, angel," he cooed, tilting his face up until he grudgingly made eye contact. "Are you ok?"

Elias nodded eagerly, eyes still wide and terrified. "M'ok." He insisted. Tyson knew it was just because he thought it was what he wanted to hear, he could still see the fear and the pain written on his face.

"I'm so sorry I hit you. I won't do it again." He wiped the tears from his face as he spoke. His cheek was red from where he hit him, and Tyson's heart sank further. "I love you so much, Elias, I never want to hurt you. Ever."

Elias forced a small smile, nodding his head. "It's ok. I love you." He flinched a fraction as Tyson stooped down to hug him, then melted into his arms. He closed his eyes and took a few more deep breaths. He counted to ten, then pulled away and cleared his throat. "Your breakfast is gonna get cold."

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

Tyson couldn't be sure if it was just because he had been hit earlier and now wanted more than ever to please him or if he genuinely wanted to, but he was surprised when Elias insisted they go to Leo and Allen's for the Halloween party they'd been invited to. When Tyson brought it up, it was mostly just to let Elias know that they were thinking of him, that he had friends who wanted to see him, he wasn't expecting him to want to go. Initially, Elias was just shocked that it was already Halloween, had he been with August for that long...? Had it already been almost two weeks since he'd last seen him? He tried not to act too bothered about how much it shook him up, realizing he'd completely lost his sense of time lately. But once Elias said that he would love to go, Tyson gladly agreed, promised Elias that if it got uncomfortable or overwhelming they would leave. Elias was amused with Tyson's makeshift costume, his tight red shirt and cheap devil horn head band. He looked ridiculously attractive, and here Elias was in his oversized hoodie he'd been wearing for days and an added jacket, his hair and face were both an absolute mess. He felt ugly, not that he didn't always feel like that lately, but as long as Tyson was distracting him he wasn't really thinking about it.

The party had a lot more people than either of them were expecting, the house was buzzing with conversation and music and loud laughter, and Elias was instantly intimidated. He reached for Tyson's hand and stood close to him, looking down at his shoes as he was guided through the crowd.

"Hey! I didn't think you guys would come!" Someone was saying. Elias looked up for a split second to see it was Leo, who was grinning ear to ear. Elias was envious of his carefree happiness, and he wanted to sob when Tyson let go of his hand to hug Leo. "How are you, Elias?"

He flinched at the sound of his own name, snapping his eyes up to Leo. He hated being addressed like that, like a person, because every time he could hear August pounding it into his brain that he was less than human, that he wasn't important enough to be spoken to, that he was only alive because August allowed it, because August wanted to use him, because he was a punching bag, because he was a sex toy, because-

"I'm fine," he choked out, forcing a tight smile. "Do you have any booze?"

Leo frowned at him in confusion, then looked to Tyson for some sort of explanation. When he only responded with a simple shrug, Leo turned his attention back to Elias. "Uh...yeah. Yeah, it's in the kitchen."

Elias thanked him and turned away from them both, weaving through people until he found himself in the kitchen. Only a few people were in there with him, one of them being Allen, who looked just as uncomfortable as Elias. He was wearing a tee shirt and bow tie, which was the most low effort costume Elias had ever seen. He would have laughed, if he wasn't so hell bent on getting himself drunk so he could handle being here.

"Hey," Allen said, smiling a little, "I didn't know y-you were here."

"Yeah, just got here. Ty's with Leo." As he spoke, he poured himself a shot of tequila, holding his breath so he wouldn't tic and spill it. He threw it back, gagging on the taste, on the memories of August forcing him to take shot after shot of the burning drink because he was more fun when he was drunk, he was told. "What are you supposed to be?" He asked. Allen's eyes were on him as he filled up the shot glass again, then grimaced as he set it down and reached for something to chase it with.

"Oh, I dunno. I've n-never really done this whole Halloween party thing." He shifted his weight, chewing his lip. "What about you?"

Elias didn't answer him, shaking his head. "Can we please go somewhere quiet? This sucks."

Allen laughed, "yeah, it does, huh? Wanna go sm-smoke?" After Elias agreed, Allen took his hand and led him out to the backyard. There were a few other people, but they were dispersed enough that they found a place far away from everyone quickly.

"Tyson hit me today," Elias said suddenly, looking at the ground as he smoked, "I can't even remember why. I just...I just remember I was on the floor and he hit me."

Allen was shocked into silence for a moment, then he took a deep breath and leaned against the wall they were standing at. "Was he mad at you?"

Elias felt on the verge of tears then, couldn't speak over the lump in his throat. "He didn't seem mad, he said he was sorry after. I think he just...I think he just felt like hitting me."

Allen shook his head. "No, Tyson isn't like August. He wouldn't just hit you because he wanted to." When he looked up at Elias, he was surprised to see his cheeks wet with tears and a tight frown on his face. "Hey, it's ok, Elias. It's ok."

"No, it isn't. I'm so fucking exhausted." He dropped his head into his hands and fought the sobs shaking his shoulders. "I can't sleep and I can't eat and I feel like I'm fucking up every little thing-" he froze up when he felt Allen's arms around him, holding him tight. For a second he was stunned into silence, then he really began to cry.

"You're gonna be alright," he was saying, "right now, you're in the hardest part of it, but it's gonna get better." He pulled Elias closer as his weak, broken whimpers shook his small frame. He didn't remember ever being in this much despair, sure, he was confused and scared and hurting, but for the most part he was just relieved that he was safe. How long had Elias been back, a week and a half? When Allen had been back for that long, he was focusing on trying to get his life back together, trying to mend relationships and himself and feel as normal as he could. Elias seemed to be breaking apart over and over again. August must've been so cruel to him.

When Elias slowly stopped crying, he pulled himself out of Allen's grip and took a deep breath. "I um...I'm gonna go get another drink. Thanks for uh, talking to me."

"Yeah, of course. Let me know if you need anything." Allen watched as he stood up and limped back into the house.

#whump intro #whump character #whump oc #whump writing #whump drabble #whump community #whump blog #whumpblr #whump #whump art #pet whump #whump aesthetic #whump scenario #emotional whump #captivity whump #whump prompt #whump fic #whumpee #whump tropes #whump ideas #whumper #caretaker #whump things #whump story #whump aftermath #whump concept #whump comfort #whump dialogue #whump gore #whump inspo

[innately-pretentious]

Finally, I Found You. (Klaus Hargreeves x Reader)

Request: Hey! I looooved your Klaus headcanons and was wondering if you could write about when him and the reader are reunited in the 60s??? Totally fine if not, have a nice day!

A/N: Awh thank you so much, I hope this is alright dude! I am really tempted to turn this into a series tho... if you want that?? Even if this is really rough and kind of rushed. Kinda angsty? Kinda sad? Very fluffy. Enjoy!

Being spat out of a spinning vortex into a dingy alley was enough to stress anybody out, especially after a rather terrifying and life threatening encounter with your sister initiating the apocalypse. Navigating through the twenty first century was difficult enough, but being catapulted into a completely new decade with nothing but your bag and clothes you were wearing just about topped that.

Letting out a cry as you hit the ground and groaning as you rolled over and tried to get our bearings. Glancing around to see if you could locate any of your siblings whom you were with only a few minutes previously, you stood up and brushed yourself off, you began calling out their names. Sadly with no success, there was no response, you were alone.

You continued pacing along the pavement, trying to come up with a plan of action. Deciding you couldn’t improve your situation much from the alley, you emerged into a busy street and began wandering down the road. Progressing along the street, you could not help but take notice of the architecture and clothing surrounding you. Definitely not similar to the modern aesthetics you were used to. Flagging down an approachable looking woman and kid you asked what year it was, sharing peculiar look she confirmed your suspicions. It was July 24th 1962. Brilliant.

Trying hard not to think the worst of your situation, you mind wandered to Klaus. The two of you had hardly been apart for more than one night over the course of your year long relationship, your stomach dropped at the thought of him being isolated in a random time period, unable to contact anyone, nobody to help. A small part of you wished Ben was with him, but you were completely clueless as to how this whole time travel business worked. You attempted to brush that thought aside for the time being, first you had to find somewhere to stay. Sleeping rough with nothing but the clothes on your back did not sound appealing, luckily you had some spare cash in your bag for a room for a few days, giving you sometime to formulate a plan.

The first night was definitely the hardest. Deciding to find the cheapest hotel you could, you booked a room for the night, collecting the keys and collapsing on the mattress. As soon as you got into the uncomfortable bed you knew sleep would not come tonight, the double bed was not helping either. You spent the majority of the night on your side, laying there and glancing at the opposite side of the mattress, where he should be sleeping. It felt too empty without Klaus hogging the blanket. You couldn’t help the collection of memories the two of you shared popping into your mind. Lazy weekday nights, limbs draped absentmindedly over one another, Klaus’ hand tracing soft patterns into your shoulder as you talked about absolute nonsense for hours. Both dreading when the morning came as you would have to leave his arms. Growing up in Hargreeves’ mansion you would constantly sneak into his room, even before you were together. Your ability to turn invisible was a great help, coming to comfort him if your father pushed him too hard again was almost a nightly occurrence. You loved the way he would relax as soon as he felt you lift up the blanket and settle in next to him, knowing he wouldn’t have be alone.

You smiled at the thought of him, he always had to be close to you. Even in his sleep you caught him reaching for you sleepily or rolling his leg onto you in an attempt to pull you closer. You often wondered if he even knew he was doing it or if it was entirely subconscious. After everything he went through growing up it was no surprise he had clingy tendencies. You wouldn’t change him for anything, if he needed you close, you had no problem obliging him. If it made him feel safe you would do it.

It was at this point the tears started to fall. For someone who had been through so much to then be stuck somewhere, unable to reach you, made your heart ache. Tomorrow you would figure something out, however futile it may be, you were determined to at least try and make a life for yourself here.

3 Months Later:

The three months had not been easy, by any means. It had mainly consisted of you on the road, finding work pretty much wherever would take you. Getting the car you were currently driving was a feat in itself, stealing an automobile had never been on your bucket list. You never liked using your power to steal, however, it was your only mode of transport and occasional place to sleep. You always coaxed Klaus not to just take things, he would be shocked if he could see you now, the look on his face would be priceless! On the bright side, you could have picked a worse car, with five seats, a convertible roof and playable radio, you had risen in worse rides.

More memories surfaced in your mind, ones where you took Klaus out for a drive out of the city during the beginning of his sobriety. This started as an attempt to inject a new lust for life into him, show him there was more to the world than just powder in the back alleys. Soon your little road trip became a weekly occurrence, driving with Klaus and losing track of time, just each other for company. You loved him dearly but you both decided it would be more beneficial if you were the one behind the wheel, not that he cared, he was given full control of the music this way. He insisted on having the windows down and the music loud, staring at you with his pupils slightly dilated, feeling doped up on life rather than various pills. You loved how radiant he looked, you even let him get away with wailing along to the lyrics on the radio, at least for a while…

“Klaus, I love you, but I’m gonna need my eardrums in the future,”

“Yes, I’m aware. Why do you think I’m gracing them with my dulcet tones?”

You couldn’t help but jokingly glare at him. Once again he was never to far away from you, laughing and giving your thigh a squeeze as you watch the city disappear behind you, along with his worries.

Dragging yourself back to the present (well, 1962), you gripped the steering wheel, forcing yourself to focus on the road instead of the bittersweet memories you held. They were the only things you had left of him, and you hoped that wherever he was, he was safe.

You decided to return to the town where it all began, Dallas, Texas. You were in need of some new clothes and a quick bite to eat before you got back on the road, in search for another short-term job to earn some much needed cash. A second-hand shop would probably be the most budget friendly option for clothes, ringing the bell as you opened the door, you began to flick through the various fabrics and patterns of clothing. One of the things you loved about this decade was the flamboyant clothing, he would have thrived here. Gathering quite a large armful of clothes, you decided to go try a few on, just looking through your selection one last time before you committed to the changing room.

You were ripped from your thoughts by a loud thud on the window, resulting in you dropping the bundle of clothes you had accumulated during your browsing. Huffing and turning your attention to the window, ready for some kind of confrontation, although, nothing could be further from your assumption.

Your eyes met with the same hazel ones you had been gazing into for the last year, unmistakable hands with tattoos were firmly placed on the glass. His jaw was slack and his eyes were wide as he gawked through the glass. You began to shake as you drank in the sight of him, your chest tightened and you found it increasingly difficult to breathe. You wanted to run into his arms, but you weren’t sure if your legs would carry you. You couldn’t feel anything except the racing of you heart. Time seemed to still as you just stared at one another.

He was the first to break the gaze, tripping over himself in an attempt to reach the door. He forced the door open so forcefully that the bell nearly fell off, it didn’t stop him though. Running down the shopping aisle, pushing the racks aside as he continued towards you, knocking over a few clothing racks, not slowing down as he slammed into your open arms. The impact of the force sending the two of you tumbling to the ground, both of you gripping onto the other in fear they may disappear again. He could feel you shaking in his hold, overwhelmed with the entire situation, he kept his grip firm around you, letting you know that he is here and you are safe. He doesn’t plan on leaving you.

Finally managing to pull his face from the crook of your neck, you held his face in your hands, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. You weren’t aware you were crying until you felt his calloused hands brush away a stray tear from your cheek.

“It’s really you isn’t it?” You managed to choke out, you must have looked insane to the shopkeeper, both of you smiling and sobbing, curled up on his shop floor.

“Of course it’s me, nobody could recreate this amount of beauty and personality twice,” he joked and cracked a smile. That typical Klaus smile you missed so much. Even in a time like this, supposedly sentimental, he still had to get a wisecrack in.

“You’re such an idiot Klaus, only you could compliment yourself in a time like this,” you said, you weren’t sure if you were crying or laughing at this point, but you knew you were finally happy.

“I’ve had to do it myself for a while since you were absent,” he said, you couldn’t miss the subtle sadness that passed over his features.

“Come on then Y/N”, he groaned as he stood up, offering a hand to help you, “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

You glanced up at him before you accepted his hand, his hair was longer than before and he looked healthier, but he was undeniably still your Klaus. You placed you hand in his and let him drag you up, resting his arm around your waist, slightly tighter than he used to. You allowed your head to rest on his shoulder, re-familiarising yourself with his body. The two of you definitely had a long conversation ahead, you allowed him to drag you to the nearest diner, excited to unburden yourselves after finally finding each other.

#tua #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy x reader #tua imagine #tua x reader #tua fanfic #tua fanfiction #the umbrella academy fanfic #the umbrella academy fanfiction #klaus hargreeves fanfiction #klaus hargreeves imagine #klaus hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves #klaus hargreeves fanfic #klaus hargreeves headcanon #tua headcanon #the umbrella academy headcanon

[catlynhoss05]

Home Sweet Home Ch. 1 P. 3

Meeting The Farm Family!

*NOT MY GIF*

Pairing: OC!baureader x Emily Prentiss x Criminal Minds

~starts in season 4~ (also, check out the links to see what Remi’s abs look like and to see what her arms look like when she flexes as well.. The links are all on the HSH masterlist.) (Click here for song when cued)

Chapter Summary: After the team finishes up with the case and return back to Remi’s childhood home, the team are in for an eventful evening. However, when the following day comes around, Emily’s in for a BIG surprise that makes everyone -herself included- say, “ABOUT TIME!!!”

     After everyone had finished up with supper and the dishes were all cleaned up, Remi had excused herself so she could go and check the chickens. What Remi wasn’t expecting was that Asher had let the mean chicken -that only hated Remi- out of it’s cage to roam around the coop. The mean chicken liked everyone EXCEPT for Remi and Asher knew that. When she had left the house to go to the chicken coop, Asher turned back to the rest of the boys as everyone was just lounging around and started grinning like a fool.

     “Asher, not again. You do remember the last time you messed with her, right?” Benjamin asked with a smile. “Oh, I remember. I still have that scar, but it’s totally worth it though.” Asher laughed. The team looked at each other with confused looks. “What’s going on?” JJ asked. Before anyone could answer her question, everyone heard Remi scream for Asher, and she sounded BEYOND pissed. “Oh God. She’s pissed… Remove anything glass and/or any valuables and BACK UP.” Harris explained, him and his brothers grabbing every piece of glass that was in view and hurrying to put them out of the way before Remi came back inside. Once everyone was backed up out of harms way, Remi had appeared in the patio doorway covered in feathers, a few broken eggs, and some chicken feces. Her fists were tightly clenched, and her face was red, which Emily was really turned on by seeing Remi so riled up. “You bastard.” Remi muttered. “If you two are gonna fight, take it out back so you don’t get everything dirty.” Carol insisted.

     Nolan had pushed Asher out in the middle of the room to wait for his impending doom that is an angry Remi. “Rem-Remi, look. I am sorry, but we have not seen each other in a few months since you left for D.C. and I-I was just messing with you, okay? That’s just what we do.” Asher tried reasoning with his sister. However, that did not help much because that’s when Remi started charging at Asher, who decided to make a run for it out the front door. As Remi chased Asher around the house and to the back yard, everyone that was left in the house had all came out onto the patio to watch the scene. “So, uh… You two are okay with letting them fight it out?” Morgan asked Carol as they all looked on. “Since we have a total of 12 kids and Remi being the youngest and the only girl, we let them figure out their issues/problems that they have with each other on their own. Sometimes, depending on the situation, they fight it out and if the fights get way to out of hand, that’s when we have to intervene.” Carol explained, earning understanding nods from the team. 

     Remi had finally managed to tackle Asher in the middle of the yard and ended rolling together for a few seconds. Once they stopped rolling and were both laying in the yard on their backs, they started laughing and Remi had forgiven him. They both got up off the ground and made their way back up to the house. “Hey, hey… Both of you, shoes off before going inside the house. And take a shower after showing your team where they will be staying, Remington.” Joseph, Remi’s dad, ordered. After Asher and Remi kicked off their shoes, they had both followed everyone back inside the house. Remi went to grab her bags by the front door before turning to face the team to decide where everyone would be staying. “Okay, so I’ve thought about how the sleeping arrangements will be until Will, Henry, Jack and my doggo, Louisa, get here. So, until then, I have a double bed that has a mattress in my old room that is set up so JJ, Penelope and Emily can stay in there with me. You three ladies can borrow some of my old clothes and a pair of boots if needed. Uh, Hotch… You can stay in Asher and Eli’s old room. Rossi, you can stay in Sawyer’s old room. Derek, you can stay in Ryker’s old room and Spencer, you can stay Dallas’s old room.” Remi decided.

     Hotch and the team all came over and grabbed their bags from the entryway and followed Remi upstairs to the rooms. Once Remi showed the men to their rooms, she then led Emily, JJ and Penelope to her old room that was down at the end of the hallway. “Okay, here we are. Oh, and about that secret that I had mentioned about earlier.” She paused as she worked on picking the lock to her bedroom door. “Ha, there we go, got it.” She chuckled, standing back up and turning towards the 3 women. “I-I finally got the lock picked… Anyway, the reason why I had said that I would show you ladies that secret of mine is because, well…. Come in and see for yourselves.” Remi suggested with a smirk, opening the door, and walking into the room. Emily, JJ, and Penelope followed her into the room a bit cautiously; not knowing what to expect exactly. When they took in some of the contents that were hanging on the wall nearest to the doorway, they were not expecting what they were looking at. “Oh wow. This is your secret, Remi? A collection of awards, newspaper clippings, plaques, ribbons, pictures and big trophies?” JJ asked. “Well, sort of…” Remi trailed off.

     “What do you mean ‘sort of’?” Emily asked, confused. Penelope gasped after reading one of the many framed newspaper clippings on the wall, her gasp scaring Emily and JJ. “If you looked closely at the stuff on the wall, and I am quite sure that Penelope hit the jackpot on what my secret is, you would’ve read that I’m a two-time world record holder for bull riding. And before you ask what I mean when I said ‘two-time’, the first time that I broke the world record for bull riding was when I was 25 and the second time was when I was 29 and broke my first record time.” Remi explained to her female coworkers. JJ, Emily, and Penelope were all standing there in her room, starring at her with their mouths agape, as they tried to take in the information they were just told. “I’m also one of the top 5 best rodeo riders in the world.” Remi had finished explaining.

     “I have a question to ask, and they probably do as well. Anyway, I could not help but notice this newspaper article of yours that is about Saddle Bronc Riding. What is that exactly?” Penelope asked, pointing at the article on the wall. “Saddle Bronc Riding is, in a way, sort of like bull riding yet it’s not. Bull riding is where you are obviously on a bucking bull, where as Saddle Bronc Riding is where you are on a bucking horse, or a bronc horse, earning the name Saddle Bronc Riding. However, there’s also Bareback Bronc Riding which I personally think is more difficult then the other.” Remi chuckled. “That’s interesting and awesome.” Penelope and JJ laughed. “And fucking hot.” Emily admitted aloud, silencing the room for a few seconds before Penelope and JJ started laughing again and making Remi blush a deep red and become bashful.

     “That’s why my files are classified and why you couldn’t find any information on me or hack into my said files. Or even do a simple background check on me, Miss Penelope.” Remi laughed as she picked up her go-bag off the floor and putting it onto the cot bed. “How’d you know that I did that? Oh, and have you met any famous people?” The bubbly tech genius laughed as well as the other three women. “Honestly, I did not until you just admitted to doing so, but I did have my suspicions though. And yes, I have actually.” Remi laughed as she grabbed some clean clothes out of her bag before turning around to face Penelope. “Who all have you met, Remi?” Emily asked, setting her bags by the cot bed. “I have met George Strait a few times.” She smiled, then excused herself so she could go and shower before going to bed.

     After Remi had left the room to go and shower, Emily, JJ and Penelope had all changed into their pajamas for bed. When Emily had finished changing her clothes, she turned to face Penelope and JJ and sat down on the cot bed. “Why do you the two of you get the king-sized bed for?” She asked quietly. “Because we got to the bed before you did. Plus, you need to get a move on with the whole crush on Remi situation. And yes, that means sleeping in the same bed with her if that’s what it’s gonna take.” JJ whispered. After about 20 minutes or so and after everyone got ready for bed, Remi had returned to her room wearing only a white Calvin Klein sports bra, matching white Calvin Klein’s boy short underwear with only the waistband showing and gray sweatpants that rode a bit low on her hips. Her hair was damp and askew from her somewhat drying her hair with a towel. Emily was still sitting on the cot bed while JJ and Penelope had already gotten comfortable in the king size bed.

     Remi started to chuckle as she took in the state of the two in the king size bed. “I see that you two already made yourselves comfortable.” She laughed. “Well, it is pretty comfy.” Penelope laughed as well as JJ and Emily. Remi turned her attention back to her belongings that were still on the cot bed and moved them off the bed, setting them down in front of her closet. When she turned back to face Emily, she noticed that the raven-haired beauty was gawking at her and she smirked. “See somethin’ you like, Prentiss?” She asked as she moved a bit closer to Emily. “And if I do, are you gonna do something about it?” Emily quipped, leaning back onto her elbows on the cot bed. Remi just chuckled and moved to get a pair of socks to put on before getting into bed. “Are you gonna do anything, Remi?” JJ asked, wiggling her eyebrows at the young agent.

     Before Remi could do or say anything to JJ, they all heard some whispering coming from the other side of the closed bedroom door. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. Every fucking time I have a girl in my room and the door just so happens to be closed.” Remi muttered, finishing putting her socks on before digging through her closet. “Nice looking ass you got there, Remington. But what are you looking for exactly?” Emily asked, hearing Remi bump her head on something and hearing her murmur a quiet ‘fuck’ under her breathe. “Aha, found it. And must you call me Remington?” Remi laughed as she pulled out her old red whip. “Wait, are you actually going to use that on them?” Penelope asked, sitting up in bed. “Oh, heavens no… You know how bad that would hurt them?” Remi asked. “They’re all scared of my whip. I would never hit anyone OR any animal with it. I only keep it around just to scare my brothers off if they’re buggin’ me.” Remi explained, walking over to her door quietly and made sure that the ladies stayed quiet.

     Remi opened her door and shouted ‘HEY’ at Colten, Oliver and Nolan who were eavesdropping on their sister and her female coworkers. The three boys took notice of the red leather whip that was in her hand and started to run back down the hallway and down the stairs as well. Remi started to laugh as she went back into her bedroom and closed the door. “Oh man. That was great and tickles me every time.” She smiled, walking back over to her closet, and putting her whip back in its place. “Hey Remi.” Penelope spoke up. “Yes?” “What is that on your inner left bicep?” She asked curiously. Remi lifted her left arm to see what the tech genius was talking about. “Oh, that’s just my birthmark.” She explained, yawning, and stretching her arms above her head. “I think it’s time for us to get some shut eye.

     Remi crawled onto the other side of the cot bed furthest away from the door since Emily already made herself comfortable. They all said their good nights to each other before drifting off into much needed sleep around 10 p.m.. Sometime around midnight, Remi had woken up because she had to go to the bathroom but had realized that she could not get up out of bed. “Uh, Emily?” She whispered. “Emily…” She whispered again but harshly this time. When the raven-haired beauty did not respond or make any attempt at moving off her, Remi decided to fix the problem herself. In one quick motion, Remi thought her plan would go smoothly as she wanted it to. And boy, was she wrong about that. She was hoping that she could smoothly roll Emily off her just enough for her to quickly jump up off the bed. However, when Remi had managed to roll Emily off her and back to her side of the cot, Emily started to wake up when Remi had her hips straddled with her knees and both of Remi’s hands on either side of her head.

     “Uh, hi.” Remi whispered nervously. “If we’re going to do this, Remi, we’re going to have to be fast and quiet.” Emily whispered, grinning up at Remi. “As much as I would love that right now, we can’t. Plus, you were sleeping on top of me, and I have to pee.” Remi chuckled, getting off Emily and making her way to the bathroom. Once she came back to her room, she closed the door and then crawled back into bed to go back to sleep. “Night, Em.” She whispered. Emily smiled sleepily at the nickname that she used. “Night, Remi.” Emily took in her coworker’s sleeping figure and absolutely wanted to devour every inch of her and to be devoured and loved by her as well. But she knew that it was not the time or place to do that. Around 4 a.m., Remi’s alarm on her phone started to go off, waking up the young agent. She hurried to grab her phone to turn off the alarm so it would not wake up the other 3 women.

     Once she got the alarm turned off, Remi carefully got out of bed and started to get dressed before leaving the bedroom, trying not to wake up her sleeping coworkers. As she made her way downstairs to get something to drink and to do a few morning stretches, she noticed all 11 of her brothers cuddled up together in the living room, chuckling to herself. Remi put on a pair of her old cowboy boots that she wears for whenever she’s home and works on the farm, grabs a few trays with a bunch of egg cartons on them and she heads out to collect eggs to make breakfast for everyone. About 2 and a half hours later, around 6:30 a.m. or so, Remi was relieved that she was finished with cleaning the chicken coop, feeding the chickens, and collecting eggs for breakfast for everyone. Grabbing the trays of filled egg cartons, she heads back to the house to start making some food. Remi kicks off her boots on the patio before entering the house and was greeted by a few of her brothers, Hotch, Rossi and Spencer awake and sitting at the island in the kitchen.

     “Good mornin’, carbon-based lifeforms.” Remi greeted, earning some groans from Spencer and Rossi. “Well okay then. I got some eggs to make for breakfast if y’all are hungry.” Remi offered, watching Reid, Hotch and Rossi perk up at the mention of food. “Got any coffee?” Hotch asked. “Pfft, who do you think I am!?” Remi and Hotch laughed. “Yeah, it’s over there on the counter.” She pointed out. The rest of the team, Remi’s brothers and her parents started to wake up and make their ways downstairs to the kitchen and out of the living room for some food and coffee. Everyone got a plate of food and some coffee before sitting around the kitchen and living room and enjoying a nice, hot meal together. After a while when everyone was finished and just sitting around talking and drinking coffee, Sawyer spoke up from his seat on the couch. “So, Remi.” He paused, taking a sip of his coffee. “What, Sawyer?” She called out as she was filling up her coffee mug.

     “When are you gonna make your move?” He asked, everyone else also chiming in. “What move?” Emily asked confused. Everyone, including Remi’s parents, were smiling at Remi, and waiting for her to say something. Remi came into view of everyone from the kitchen, looking like a nervous wreck. “Uh…” She cleared her throat. “We can do it now if that’s alright with everyone.” She suggested, getting a ‘yes’ from everyone except for Emily. Emily was sitting at the island along with JJ and Penelope while the rest of the team and Remi’s brothers were sitting around on the 2 sectionals in the living room. Remi came over and stood in front of Emily with something behind her back. “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?” Emily asked, making everyone laugh. “No, I’m not gonna kill you… I have a surprise for you though. Well, technically two surprises. Anyway, these are for you.” Remi smiled, revealing a bouquet of beautiful red roses, and handed them to Emily. “Oh my gosh, these are gorgeous flowers, Remi. Thank you.” Emily smiled.

     It was still noticeable that the raven-haired beauty was still confused on what the second surprise was going to be. Remi smiled, offering her hand to Emily. “C’mere. I still have that second surprise for you.” Emily took her hand and followed her over to the grand piano that was in the den. There was also a violin, a drum set and an acoustic guitar that were also set up in the den as well. Remi had motioned to Harris, Elijah, and Wyatt to come over as well. Remi had pulled out the piano bench and had let Emily sit down first before sitting down next to her. Once the three boys were ready for Remi’s cue, she had slightly turned to face Emily before they started playing. “Emily, I’ve had the biggest crush on you ever since the moment we had officially met the moment you had accidently spilled your ridiculously hot coffee all over my shirt on my first day at the BAU.” Remi explained, laughing at the memory. She turned her body back to face the piano. “Emily Prentiss, this song is for you.” Remi smiled.

(Cue Song)

(Harris plays violin; Elijah plays drums; Wyatt plays guitar; Remi obviously sings/plays piano)

You don’t have to go now, honey

Call and tell ‘em you won’t be in today

Baby, there ain’t nothin’ at the office

So important it can’t wait

I’m thankful for the weekend

But two days in heaven just ain’t gonna do

This is gonna take forever, darlin’

Girl, I just got started lovin’ you

 What’s the point in fightin’ what we’re feelin’

We both know we’ll never win

Ain’t this what we’re missin’

Let’s just stop all this resistin’ and give in

Let me wrap my arms around you

You know you don’t want to leave this room

Come back and let me hold you, darlin’

Girl, I just got started lovin’ you

   Everyone, especially Emily, were all enjoying hearing Remi and her brothers sing and play the song. They’re also relieved that Remi finally had told Emily how she felt about her and was finally doing something about it.

What can I say, I’ve never felt this way

Girl, you’re like a dream come true

After all the love we’ve made

It sure would be a shame

If we let this moment end so soon

So won’t you lay back down beside me

Girl, just like I know you’re wantin’ to

Trust me when I tell you, darlin’

Girl, I just got started lovin’ you

 I ain’t gonna stop

Oh yeah

 What can I say, I’ve never felt this way

Girl, you’re like a dream come true

After all the love we’ve made

It sure would be a shame

If we let this moment end so soon

 I’m thankful for the weekend

But two days in heaven just ain’t gonna do

This is gonna take forever, darlin’

Girl, I just got started lovin’ you

Come back and let me hold you, darlin’

Girl, I just got started lovin’ you

 Gonna hang out all week long

Laughing, loving, kissing, hugging baby

      After they finished the song, Remi turned herself so that she’s facing Emily and her cheeks started to turn pink as well as the tips of her ears. “So, will you be my girlfriend, Emily?” She asked bashfully. “Yes, I would love to be your girlfriend and it’s about time you asked.” Emily laughed as well as everyone else. Remi beamed, cupping Emily’s face in her hands and leaning forward a bit to kiss her sweetly. Everyone started to cheer, and Penelope decided to shout, “ABOUT TIME!!!” The new couple broke apart from each other and started laughing at Penelope’s excitement when she shouted. Remi and Emily had both stood up from the piano and moved so Remi could put the bench back where it was before exiting the den. They stopped in front of the team when Hotch spoke up. “You both do realize that you’re going to have to go Strauss and tell her, right?” Hotch asked in all seriousness. “Yeah, about that. She already knows.” Remi smirked. “How does she already know about you two getting together?” Hotch asked, clearly confused as his eyebrows furrowed together as everyone else’s did too.

     “Remember that rare sighting of Strauss smiling and being nice to me last week?” Remi asked. “Yeah.” Rossi spoke up. “That’s because she had pulled me into her office and asked when I was going to ask Emily out. And how do y’all think we got 2 weeks of paid vacation time to spend here in Nashville after the case?” Remi chuckled, receiving shocked looks from everyone including Hotch. “For some odd reason, Strauss actually likes me. I don’t know why though.” Remi paused. “And don’t get any ideas about having me asking her for more paid vacations… MORGAN.” Hotch and Rossi laughed, watching Derek putting his hands up in surrender.

     It was around 8:30/9:00 a.m. when there was a knock at the front door. “I’ll get it.” Colten said, getting up from his spot on one of the sectionals. Everyone else was just sitting around together enjoying each other’s company for the time being. Remi and Emily were sitting together on a couple bar stools at the island in the kitchen. “You know, the way that you’re sitting right now is giving me the perfect view down the front of your shirt.” Remi grinned happily, making Emily blush a little bit. “See anything you like!?” Emily asked teasingly. “Oh, very much so.” Remi played along, leaning into kiss Emily. Before the two could kiss, Colten came back into the living room – there is a big opening that connects the kitchen and living room together – and had a few guests with him. “Hey, look what the cat dragged in.” Colten chuckled, moving out of the way to show everyone that Will, Henry, Jack and Louisa had arrived.

     JJ, Hotch and the rest of the team had gotten up off the couch to greet them. “Louisa… Hey sweet girl.” Remi called out as she crouched down so she could greet her dog. Louisa practically ran over and jumped into Remi’s arms and immediately started giving her kisses. “Okay, okay. That’s enough for now. Can you sit?” Remi asked, watching Louisa do what she asked. Remi stood back up and turned to Emily who was smiling at her. “Should I be jealous!?” She asked sarcastically. Remi rolled her eyes at her girlfriend with a smirk. “Emily and the rest of the team, this is my 2-year-old German Shepard, Louisa… Louisa, this is my team that I told you about and this is Emily.” Remi said. “Louisa, can you say hi to everyone?” Louisa barked and nudged Emily’s leg with her paw. “She wants you to shake.” Remi smiled.

     “Hi, Louisa. I’m Emily… I’m your mom’s girlfriend and coworker.” The raven-haired beauty smiled, shaking the dog’s paw. As Louisa made her way around the room to each team member – also including Jack, Henry and Will – to shake hand and paw, Will looked between Remi and Emily before turning to JJ. “Wait, girlfriend?” He asked, earning a nod from everyone. “About time the two of you finally got together.” He laughed.

#emily prentiss x oc #emily prentiss fluff #Emily Prentiss angst #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss smut #emily prentiss #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #home sweet home

[something-fanfiction-ie]

Dream Analysis

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: vomiting, detailed crime discussion, mentions of sexual assault (to victim, not reader)

A/N: THIS IS PART ONE TO A POSSIBLE THREE PART IMAGINE. It’s based on a request. I’ll answer the request after I post this. Uhm, as always, make sure to like, comment, share, and send me asks! I am but a humble writer in need of validation. Thank you for giving my last Spencer Reid post lots of love, it helped me to motivate myself enough to write this one. I hope you enjoy! (Also, this would be a season five Spencer. Like, just after he stops using his cane. (But also that cane, ugh. He such a little old man and I love it. Jesus this Man™.))

—

The dream started with a kiss.

One of those movie kisses where the rain is soaked in your clothes but you can’t feel the cold for the heat coming from the body pressed so close to you that you can feel his heart beat through your shirt.

His hands are splayed on either side of your face, and while everything about the kiss is rough and passionate, like he can’t get enough of kissing you, his hands are gentle. When he pulls away, it’s with great reluctance. You try to follow his mouth with your own, desperate for more, but you stop when he chuckles.

“I’ve played this over and over in my mind but I’ve never thought I would actually be here, kissing you.” You reach up to push a wet curl from his forehead only for the image to change.

You’re still just as close to the man in front of you, your hand is still raised to push back his hair, but there are tears in his eyes now. They’ve spilled over his cheeks and puddled into the floor. The tears come up to your ankles and fill the room wall to wall, the water is so clear that you can see each individual fleck of gray in the marble flooring. Tiny fish dance around your toes, thousands darting back and forth between you and the man.

“Spencer, why are you crying?” You step around the fish nibbling at your ankles, finally pushing back the lock of hair that curls on his forehead. But Spencer is gone, and in his place is a little boy with the same curls and big brown eyes.

“I broke my glasses, but I didn’t mean to.” He says, tears pouring from his eyes. The room continues to fill up, the water just as clear as before. You wipe the water from his cheeks, giving what you hope is a gentle smile. His glasses, broken just as he said, have sunk to the floor.

“That’s okay. Let’s just find your mommy and daddy, I’m sure they’re looking for you. Do you know where they are?” This isn’t something new for you, you deal with a lot more kids then you would like in your line of work. Usually missing from their parents or in extremely dangerous situations.

“They don’t know where I am.” You rub his tiny arms in your hands, looking around the otherwise empty room for anyone. It’s only you and the little boy, and then just a quickly it’s only you. You’re floating in the water now, but you aren’t afraid.

Maybe there is more to the dream, maybe there isn’t, but when you wake up that’s all you remember.

The sun doesn’t even filter through the window when you open your eyes for the day, the clock on your nightstand reading 5:40 in the morning. Behind you, your fiancé has wrapped you into his chest with an arm draped over your side. His breath fans across the back of your neck and his hair tickles your shoulder.

You could stay like this all day long, cacooned into the arms of the man you love, except the paranoia that hits you is like a truck and you physically can’t restrain yourself from going to check on your daughter.

As quietly as possible, you slip from his arms, being careful not to make a sound as you slip off the mattress and across the floor. The door creaks on its hinges and Spencer stirs, his hand opening and closing at the empty spot like he was trying to find you.

When you finally make it into the nursery, you relax at the complete normalcy of the surroundings. No smashed or open windows, no lights left on, no one hiding behind doors or under cribs. Just your five month old baby asleep in the corner of her crib, the small stuffed bunny Spencer bought from the hospital gift shop is tucked under one of her chubby arms.

When you reach out to smooth a tuft of her feathery soft hair back into place, she stirs just a little and you freeze. You love her more than life itself, but if she could just stay asleep for now that would be spectacular.

“We’re going to have a hard time getting rid of that stuffed animal when she gets older, aren’t we?” You heard him coming from the creak of your bedroom door, not even bothering to turn around as you directed the question over your shoulder. Spencer comes to stand beside you, his hands gripping the top of the crib as you both watch your daughter sleep.

“Yes, but on the plus side, studies show that children with comfort objects are less shy and more focused than children without them. Even more so, children with comfort objects are more adventurous and independent because it helps them to go outside of their comfort zones without their parents.” You lean your head on his shoulder, content to stay like this forever.

“We’re not weird for watching her sleep?” He places a kiss to your temple, a smile tugging at his lips as your daughter reaches up to rub at her tiny ear.

“It’s common practice among parents.” One of his hands slips behind you to rub circles into your lower back. You’re not sure how long you stay like that until you peak a glance at the clock on her dresser. You and Spencer have to be at work in about an hour.

Lifting your head, you playfully pat his butt before making your way to the bathroom in your bedroom.

“Meet me in the shower?” You keep your voice pitched low, looking over your shoulder and winking mischievously.

“Actually, most sex-related injuries take place during shower sex. Penile fractures, sprained ankles, there are even reports of broken ribs.” The door to the nursery clicks shut as you step through your bedroom door, not even bothering to grab an outfit before heading to the bathroom.

Spencer stands in the doorway, his shoulder leaned against the frame as you begin fiddling with the water faucet. You make sure to keep the temperature cooler than you normally would, Spencer doesn’t like the water too hot.

“So you’re telling me that you’re going to pass on our first chance to have sex since about two weeks ago because you’re afraid you might slip?” Turning to face him, you grab the hem of you nightshirt, a t-shirt he got from Caltech but never wears, and pull it up and over your head. The morning air in the bathroom nips at your skin and goosebumps form.

His eyes darken, his tongue sweeping across his lips before he steps into the bathroom. He pulls you to him by hooking his thumbs into the waistband of your underwear, burying his head into the crook of your neck. You didn’t bother with a bra at night.

“No, I’m just saying you’re worth the risk.” He practically growls into the soft skin connecting your neck and shoulder, his lips hot as they suck a hickey there. Hungrily, he makes quick work of his own clothes, stumbling with you into the water stream and pulling the shower curtain close behind him.

Suffice to say, you and Spencer were just a little late to work. What with your morning shower sex that, funnily enough, resulted in you slipping and hitting your head on the wall, and rushing your daughter to the nanny’s, coupled with early morning D.C. traffic, it wasn’t really a surprise.

“Sorry, sorry.” Your head throbs as you guiltily follow Spencer into the conference room, taking your seat between Garcia and Prentiss. Hotch watches you both with eyes narrowed in disapproval.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve said before that I only let tardiness slide once. I won’t say it again.” Spencer looks at you from across the table, and the man actually has the balls to wink at you in front of everyone on the team. Now they will all know that any excuse you try to come up with will all be a lie to cover up your sex life.

Sure, they already know you sleep together, for heaven’s sake you have a five month old baby together. But they didn’t need to know that you had shower sex in the morning before coming to work.

JJ clears her throat, a small smile on her face as she turns back to the screen and continues with the case briefing. Her smile fades with every passing second, each murder being splashed across the screen with every gory detail enhanced for your eyes to see.

“Every victim is a girl between the ages of sixteen and nineteen, with brown hair and blue eyes. Each bearing signs of a sexual assault, their hands cut off and a cross cut into their foreheads post mortem.” Your stomach rolls around uneasily, your chest constricting with every picture.

You make it through the entire brief without barfing. You waste no time in grabbing your go bag and calling the nanny to let her know to drop Graeson at your mother’s tonight.

The flight to small town Texas isn’t long, but the whole way your head pounds and your stomach does flips. You wave off Spencer’s worry, chalking it up to plane sickness.

“I just need a nap, I’ll be fine.” You squeeze his hand reassuringly, leaning back and closing your eyes against the nausea that rolls through you. Your fiancé shuffles a little in his seat, squeezing your hand back to get your attention.

“You hit your head this morning, pretty hard. I mean, it woke up Graeson. What if you have a concussion?” His voice is a whisper, his eyes searching for any other symptoms of a concussion. You shake your head, sure that a concussion is not your issue.

“I’m almost certain that I don’t have a concussion, Spence. It’s been hours, I remember everything, my pupils aren’t dialated, right?,” He nods, looking deep into your eyes like he could x-ray the inside of your head that way, “I don’t feel dizzy, and I’m not even tired. I just think a nap will help. I’m okay.”

“Well do you feel sick?” He lifts the back of his hand to your forehead, his knuckles cool against your skin.

It’s funny that, even just checking you for a fever, his touch is enough to heat your cheeks. You try to swallow the urge to jump his bones when you think about this morning. Pre-slipping and hitting your head.

Spencer’s lips twitch when he catches the look in your eyes, trying to focus on your fever and not the sudden blush on your cheeks coupled with the dialation of your pupils. He knows it isn’t a concussion that caused that based solely on the fact that you shift in your seat to press your thighs together.

“Somebody keep an eye on the bathroom, they might try and join the mile high club.” Morgan teases from the couch, a smirk pulling at his cheeks. You send a mischievous smirk of your own his way as Spencer pulls his hand back into his lap.

“We did that before I got pregnant, Morgan.” Prentiss laughs, JJ smiles in amusement, and Hotch is quick to enter the conversation and cease the inappropriate teasing. He assures Morgan that no one will have or has had ‘relations’ (as he so gracefully phrases it) on the jet.

You lean back into your seat again, hoping for the love of God that you don’t have a concussion and that you’ll make it to Texas without throwing up. Spencer sits beside you, pretending to read. You know he is only pretending because every time you open your eyes, he still has his finger under the same paragraph. He doesn’t even bother to flip the pages for effect.

By the time you make it to Texas, the plane jostling you around as it makes contact with the runway, bile is starting to build in your mouth.

Hotch goes over where everyone is going one more time, collecting his things as the ride smooths. You and Prentiss have been assigned to the morgue to see the latest victim, seventeen year old Hillary Gutsham. Although looking at a mutilated teenager does not sound like the best idea while you’re fighting nausea, you don’t protest.

Rossi and Morgan are sent to the house of the last victim, and Reid and JJ are dispatched to the police station to set up the evidence board and get a geographical profile started.

“My favorite.” Spencer mumbles sarcastically against your temple as he presses a kiss to your head, giving you another once over before you part ways. “Tell Prentiss if you feel sick at any time. Maybe even have the ME double check you for a concussion.”

“I’m not having the medical examiner see if I have a concussion, Spencer. I’m fine. I’ll see you later.” Not even ten minutes later, Prentiss is holding your hair as you spill your guts onto the side of the highway.

“Are you sure you aren’t sick?” She asks once you’re back on the road, glancing over at you at the same time that she takes a turn the GPS won’t stop screaming at her to take. It says you’re another five minutes away from the morgue.

The voice seems to grate against the very nerve that throbs in your head, and finally you’ve had enough of it. You shuffle around in your bag for some ibuprofen and practically moan with relief when you find it in the bottom corner. Two clear blue pills sitting side by side in plastic and tin foil packing.

“If it isn’t motion sickness then I probably just have a really bad migraine. I used to get them bad when I was a kid, don’t let Spencer get in your head. He worries too much.” You swallow the pill dry, unwilling to wait for a pit stop at a gas station or even the now three minute wait to the morgue before getting a drink to take it.

Emily doesn’t argue, trusting that you know your own body better than she does. She does, however, lean forward and turn the volume on the GPS down. You can’t help but think how much you love her for it.

At the morgue it’s quiet. The lack of car horns, massive truck engines, and overall clamor of the road is like music to your ears.

A older lady named Dr. Hardy, the ME, leads you back as she discusses her findings with Emily. You mostly just listen, going over scenarios and theories in your head as they speak. It isn’t until Dr. Hardy reveals a new bit of information that your ears perk up.

“I did find signs of sexual assault along with some semen, both of which didn’t come as a surprise after the last five victims I autopsied from your case, however, I did find out that she was fifteen weeks pregnant. I had a DNA test run on the embryo and the semenial fluid but they weren’t a match.” At the same time, Dr. Hardy lifts the white sheet from her body.

The girl underneath is young and pretty, the only thing marring her beauty would be the deeply cut cross centered on her forehead. You don’t look to the hands, knowing that they won’t be there, instead you turn the new information over and over in your head.

You gasp.

“What? What are you thinking?” Prentiss and Dr. Hardy both look at you with curious eyes, unaware that the revelation you have just made is not about the case at all. You clear your throat, shoving the thought as deep as you can so as to not let it affect your work.

“I, uhm, she’s just so young... to be a mom.” Prentiss furrows her brows because she knows you’re lying. You know she’s going to let you get away with it when they smooth back into place.

“There’s only a nine year difference between you and her, (Y/L/N).”

“Nine years is more than people like to admit.” You look away from the girl on the table, wanting to be finished already. Prentiss doesn’t start saying her goodbyes for another fourty-five minutes.

She pesters you the whole way to the police station, but gives up when you exit the car and make a beeline for Spencer. The nausea is back, your headache gone, and your nerves are so tightly wound that you feel like you can hear the rushing of your blood in your ears.

If you were right, it had been nearly two months since your last period. But surely you would have noticed long before now if you were two months pregnant? Right? You’ve been pregnant before, infact you had done it just five months ago.

The bile rises like a wave in your mouth and you swing toward the bathroom, hand flying to your mouth just in case you don’t make it to the toilet. What help would your hand be if you throw up?

Thankfully, you make it to the toilet before you have to find out, throwing up everything but your stomach during your time in the precincts lovely restroom. The tile is just the right amount of cold to help the reality set in as you lean back against the stall door.

“Please let me have a concussion, please let me have a concussion.”

#spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid angst #criminal mind imagine #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of wildfire relief, an anonymous reader donated $25 and requested John/Dean, Stanford era. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post.

Snow on the ground; two days into the new year and John's home. Finally. What was supposed to be a good lead turned into a bad lead, but it was a job either way. He solved the riddle, killed the wraith. Only two dead, which these days means that it was a win, but it doesn't feel so much like one. He's got a laceration on his arm and everything in him feels—bruised. He wants a drink, and a bath, and a warm bed, but he wants, too—

He pulls into the motel parking lot and there's the Impala. Something goes easier in his chest, when he sees it. He parks the truck in the empty space right by the old beast and sits there, in the dark, easing himself for a second. The Impala has a fine layer of snow, gleaming in the neon light. In room 16, there's a do not disturb and the curtains are drawn tight but a little lamplight's leaking out, and John wishes that he didn't have to open the door, didn't have to get up, and stand, and unpack. He just wants to teleport, somehow, from here to there. To be in bed and in comfort, and have none of the troubles in between.

He opens the door. Cold. Why on earth, he thinks, did he say they'd meet up in Minnesota.

He knocks twice and then once, and then twice again. The room opens up, immediately, and Dean's face—John comes in, stepping over the salt line, and there's a blast of warmth from the heater, a wash of yellowish light, the television on and playing some show, that doctor drama. Noise and energy, after the dark empty of the night outside, and he dumps his bags on the table and closes his eyes, breathing it in. Smells like pizza. Well, Dean's been on his own, for a few days.

The door closes. Lock, chain. John drags his hand over his hair and Dean says, quietly, "You okay?"

He's leaning against the door, when John turns around. In jeans, and a red flannel shirt that's seen better days, and grey soft socks. Home, John thinks again, and then he has to look at Dean's face again, and it's like a dozen thumbs are pressing into all his bruises, all at once.

His boy. "I'm good," he says, and Dean's face doesn't get better. He looks—hollow. Starved. Big splotchy dark under his eyes like he hasn't slept, all the time they've been apart. John sighs. "How was yours?"

"Dead ghoul," Dean says. He lifts a shoulder. After a beat too long, he says, "It got a few people."

"Yeah," John says, and holds out his hand, and Dean comes to him in two quick steps, and gets folded against his chest. "Yeah, I lost some too."

Dean doesn't say anything to that. He's too big to hold like this, really. Just an inch shorter than John, and his shoulders all filled out. Well, John holds him anyway, with an arm around his shoulders and the other at his hip, and Dean holds onto his coat, buries his face into John's throat. Quivering in his skin, like a hunted thing.

John disengages after—too long, probably. Indulging them both. There is pizza, a few slices left over in the box, and he gets those down and then gets into the shower, Dean sitting on the sink, telling him the details of the hunt. John has to ask questions to drag it out of him, like he usually doesn't—what alias did you use, and which cops did you talk to—and the responses are slow, Dean's attention somewhere else. When John's drying off Dean disappears, and reappears with a beer, and John drinks it while Dean reapplies the bandage on his arm, cleaning up the places where the cut seeped. His fingers are steady but his eyes aren't, jumping all over. He's got a fat lip, like something punched him, and he keeps worrying it with his teeth, everything in him just—unquiet. John left him alone too long.

"How's your money situation?" John says, and Dean says, "Good, I've got two hundred and a new card," and John says, "How's supply," and Dean says, "Low on silver but there's a pawn shop in town, figure I can make some more bullets soon." All fine, and correct, but Dean's picking at the loose threads on his shirt sleeve, fraying the plaid into ruin, and he's pale and shaky and raw, and John—they can't afford this. They have work to do, and people to save, and they can't just—hole up together, and shelter through the winter like a pair of wounded, lonely bears.

He finishes his beer, leaves the empty on the sink. Dean's looking into the corner of the room, at nothing. "Dean," he says.

"Can we—" Dean cuts himself off, bites his lip where it must hurt. His eyes close briefly and then he looks at John, side-along and then turning his head and lifting his chin, being a man. "Can you just—would you fuck me."

The air goes out of John.

Dean swallows. "I can't sleep," he says, "and I—god, Dad, I've been freaking out, here—"

John gets Dean's neck in his hand, drags him close, cuts him off. Dean comes easy, his body soft even if the words aren't, and John's—lord, they don't—talk, like that, they hardly even acknowledge this, what's between them. "That what you want?" he says, and Dean nods, his shoulders low, his eyes a car-wreck, and John doesn't have a way to arm himself, here. Not when it's been these months, the two of them apart more than they've been together, and when he thought it himself, alone in a motel in Wisconsin, wishing—wanting. He wants it, as much as Dean does.

He kisses Dean soft, no matter that the boy's spoiling for it. He gets a gentle shock of reaction, Dean's hands splayed against his bare chest, holding his shoulders. Holding on. He walks them both toward the bed and Dean hitches air, stumbles. Surprised, when he's the one who asked for it. There's no sense in messing around—John's not going anywhere tomorrow, or the next day if he can help it, and there'll be time, later, if they want to spend the time. Dean fumbles out of his plaid shirt while John's undoing his jeans, and then it's socks and boxers and tee, and then—naked, except for the amulet around his neck, his bracelets, the ring on his finger that John kisses briefly before he kisses Dean's palm, and then his wrist, and then Dean grips his hair and tugs him, asking, so John lifts up and kisses him on the mouth again, taking Dean's open sigh of relief right to the chest, to the nuts, his body waking up at the familiarity of it.

It's better now than it was when Dean was younger. When he was too young, really. That first time—John doesn't think about that first time. Now, Dean's more confident in it, more open. Asking for what he wants and not just taking what John gives, although he does enough of that second one, too. His boy, John thinks, raw inside, and as he's thinking it in this incoherent way Dean makes it true—spreading his legs, getting John between them. His hands in John's hair, kissing him back, his mouth soft and willing, and John's ready for him, his dick bumping over Dean's spread thigh, sliding against his balls and back, behind. Dean breathes against him, their noses brushing. Weirdly intimate, considering. Dean's hand disappears, reappears—a bottle, handed over—and John dips his head against Dean's throat, fumbles one-handed. Two inside, making Dean's hips flinch; a slow, dragging rub, making him make that soft helpless noise, the one John's never heard from another person. He could play, here, and has, for long minutes of just getting noises out of him, watching him flex and moan and leak.

"Dad," Dean whispers, and John squeezes his eyes shut, takes his fingers out. Dean stretches under him, arches, and John bulls in slow but unrelenting, feeling the muscle bloom wetly around him, that shock of tightness and then vague, soft heat, unlike any woman, this—unreal, unbelievable thing. Dean makes a little pained sound. His knees cringe up higher, and John shoves an arm under his shoulders, grips his hip. Tips him to a better angle and fucks in again, slower, and feels Dean's whole body ripple in reaction and then go—soft, totally open. He wraps an arm around John's neck, puts hot damp fingers against his chest. He sighs again, his lips against John's jaw, and John fucks him that way—wrapped up tight together, slow, hardly any force behind it—just rocking, inside, in the cradle Dean's body makes for him, dragging friction and Dean's mouth softly moaning, groaning, wanting him. Wanting his dad to make it better.

Dean comes first. He's twenty-two, of course he does. He ripples around John, his body arching, wet heat between their pressed-together stomachs, and his hands slide, holding John closer, his thighs closing around John's hips to keep him deep. "God," Dean says, "fuck—fuck—fuck me, come on, fuck me—" and John's gut flips but he gets up on one hand, shoves in, and Dean slides on the mattress but grips John harder, his head tipped back and his mouth open, and John nails him, chasing, watching the wet part of his lips and his flushed freckled cheeks and his eyes half-open, staring unseeing at the ceiling or past it, and he thinks, good god, his boy, his beautiful, crazy, loyal boy—

He sags, after. Things go dark. He blinks to find Dean still holding him, wrapped around with his arm around John's shoulders and his leg twined over John's hip, and soft careful fingers stroking his collarbone, feeling that spot where it broke bad, and healed lumpy. He lifts his head and Dean's not smiling, but he's looking John in the eye the way he's started to, now, and John sees the way his lips part and his expression goes inward when John pulls out, but he doesn't let John go.

"Ought to clean up," John says. Quietly. Lately he wants to treat Dean—quietly.

Dean doesn't answer. He doesn't jump quite as fast, the last few months. Another thing John shouldn't really allow, and doesn't quite know how to fix.

He tips them on the bed, a little, so at least his weight isn't crushing Dean into the mattress. He strokes Dean's cheekbone with one thumb. He says, "Think you'll sleep?" and Dean closes his eyes and tips his face into the touch, and John sees for the first time, when his head turns toward the lamplight, that there's a rim of wet, there in his eyelashes, and there's a wet track running down from his eye. When? John doesn't know, and he cups Dean's jaw, uneasy. If this is—if it was him—

"You'll stay, right?" Dean says, scratchy-voiced, and John says, "Yeah, I will," and Dean arches a little, his soft dick pressing against John's stomach, his thigh sliding where it's still caught over John's hip, and he says, "Yeah, I'll sleep," but he doesn't sound happy about it.

John drags his hand down Dean's back, firm. "Tell me," he says.

Not that he has room to make demands, when Dean's sloppy with him. Still, he's—the dad, here, and Dean's his boy, and he does what he's told. He gets a swallow, and Dean's fingers touching the center of his chest very lightly, pulling at the chest hair Dean still can't grow, and a soft, mumbled confession: "I miss him. Little shit. I miss him, all the time."

John closes his eyes. His instinct is to pull back but Dean's clinging to him, wrapped around him, and he can't move more than an inch. "I know," he says, because—god, of course he does.

Dean's whole life is this family. He's faithful to the memory of his mother, loyal to his fuck-up of a father, and to his little brother—when John was very, very drunk, in a cabin in Utah where half the windows were broken and Dean was miserable out on the front step, his world broken, John thought with weird clarity that one day, Dean was going to make a choice. A choice, where devotion would be pulled two directions, and John didn't know, then, how Dean would choose. He doesn't know now. He cups Dean's ass and pulls him close, a full body hug, and kisses the top of Dean's head, gently. He can guess.

"Will you," Dean says, and stops. John pulls back and looks at him, and Dean's hands are both on his chest now, his head ducked. "Dad. I know you're—you're mad—but maybe we can—check on him. Sometime. I just. He's all by himself, and I—"

"I know," John says, again. It comes out harder than he means. Dean quiets instantly and bites his sore lip. John runs his thumb over his chin, pulling at his mouth so that he lets go, and Dean glances up at him, eyes hurt and tired. "I'll take care of it, Dean," he says, and Dean closes his eyes, relief sinking into him. He turns his face against the pillow and breathes out, slow, and John kisses his temple and rolls away, getting off the bed.

"Dad," Dean says, small, and John shushes him.

"I'm just cleaning up," he says. "I'll come back. I'm right here, buddy."

Dean subsides, curling around the pillow. John looks at him, alone in the big bed, and thinks to the week ahead. He's here, for now. Soon, he won't be, and Dean will have to be ready for that. Not yet, though. John's not going to put him through two losses. Not yet.

#fffr #dean/john #the full house of wincest #stanford era #my writing

[bombyxluna]

Together we’ll be alright (Mammon X Reader)

Summary: MC finds out they’re pregnant. Mammon doesn’t react too well to it at first.

Word count: 1.8K

Tags: Pregnancy themes, light angst, hopeful ending

_

There are two lines. Two fucking angry red lines, staring right back at your soul. You check the box again, unwilling to believe in your faith, but there’s no doubt. Two lines, the box says. There are two of them on your hand. Your hands are shaking but they’ve been like that for the past hour or so, so it doesn’t fade you in the slightest. You sit the little stick on the counter, next to the first one, and grab the only remaining box in the bag. 

You’re sitting on the lid of the toilet, flimsy pajamas on, while Mammon sleeps soundly in the room. Mammon. What’s he going to think when you tell him? What are you gonna do? You open the last box as slowly as you can, not wanting to rush the last minutes of your sanity, but something in your guts tells you there’s no need to cling to any hopes. You know it already. You can feel it inside of you. The last stick isn’t like the others - you decided to buy a different one just in case, but the procedure is the same. You pull it out, read the instructions. It’s one of those cross ones. 

Never on your life did you want to see a minus as badly as you do in this moment. You place it on the counter, on top of the box, and stand up, walking to the tap. You wash your hands quickly, just to busy yourself as much as possible, and wipe them on your pants before walking out of the small bathroom. 

The door of the room is ajar, you’ve left it like that so it wouldn’t range whenever you needed to open it. It’s a fairly easy way: All you need to do is tiptoe to the kitchen, grab a glass of water and drink it. Then you play the waiting game. You take a deep breath, your cold feet hitting the carpet as swiftly as you can manage, but stop when Mammon shifts on the bed. He’s still asleep, god knows he wouldn’t wake up even if the place was on fire, but you still wait for his breath to even out before finally escaping the room into the dimly lit hallway that leads to the kitchen. You open the door, drink a whole bottle of water as fast as you can, and starts to walk back. 

You stop by the door, watching Mammon. He always sleeps with one hand under his head. I wonder if the baby will sleep like that too. Your hand goes to your stomach instinctively, and you take a moment to realize what you’re doing before shaking your head in shock. You don’t know it for sure yet. You shut the door slowly, watching out for any noise, and tiptoe back into the bathroom, breathing out heavily when you close the door, eyes screwed shut. The stick is still there when you open them again. It wasn’t a bad dream after all. You walk to the counter and hold it.

“Please be a minus.” You whisper to it, holding it strongly in your closed fist against your chest. 

It takes another five minutes, but you finally go. You pace back and forth around the small tiled cubicle you and Mammon have shared and called a bathroom for six months now, never taking your eyes off the stick that now lays next to the others. It's like waiting for a death sentence, except this one means life. A whole new life, that you’re not sure you want. At least not yet. You’re not ready for it, no sir. You bite your nails, cold feet slapping way too soundly on the tile for your liking. The alarm on your phone beeps. It’s been three minutes. You rush to the counter, not even bothering to turn it off,, just in time to see the shape appearing on the little screen. 

It’s a minus.

A blue minus stares at you from the counter, and it’s just enough to get a little amount of hope back into you. Maybe it’s not true. Maybe the other ones are wrong. You smile to yourself before disposing of the tests, hiding them and the boxes under an immense amount of toilet paper you rolled out from the roll. You stand up, wiping the dust off your knees, wash your hands and face, and go to bed. It takes you a couple hours to fall asleep and, when you do, the sleep is light and nightmare-filled, making you thrash around so much in the mattress Mammon had to embrace you for you to stop moving and finally relax. 

The next morning goes by in a haze: way too many things happening all at once in your mind for you to really keep track of them, and between acting as normal as possible around Mammon, and meeting your friend for lunch, everything seemed a little more afloat than normal. After lunch, your friend took you for a blood test, so you could know for sure. You skipped class, then, going to her house for a little girl's day, just to keep yourself in check, and after that you returned home, going by with your life as if nothing was happening. 

The entire following week leading up to the results of your blood test coming in was like that. You went on with your day to day stuff, going to work in the morning and class in the night, trying your best to keep up with homework, and spending the weekend with Mammon because you hardly saw each other during the week (as much as it pained you, that had been a relief). 

You left class as soon as the teacher announced you were free to go, being the first out of the door and at the bus stop like you’d done every day that week. You didn’t want to arrive home after Mammon, scared that he might see the blood test before you. It hadn’t happened yet, but, as fate would have it when you push open the door to your shared apartment, you’re greeted by the sight of your boyfriend of two years looking incredulously to an envelope with your name in it. 

“Mammon.” 

His eyes are huge. “Y/N.,” he says in a dead tone, showing you the envelope, “What… what’s this?”

Your hands are shaking when you close the door, going to his encounter. He lets you take the envelope from his hands, watching your every move. “I… I don’t know, yet.”

“Y/N…” he looks at you as you sit down, dark eyes gazing up and down your figure unsurely in a mixture of worry and doubt. 

You take a deep breath, avoid his eyes, and open the envelope. The noise of ripping paper echoed through the walls of the apartment, like a silent judgment. You read it, once, twice, unable to hold the tears on your eyes. Mammon’s breath hitches on his throat, he read the paper from behind your shoulder. 

“When were you gonna tell me?” 

“Mammon, I…”, you aren’t sure of what to say, it’s not entirely your fault after all, but it feels like it.

“No, Y/N, what are gonna do? We're not fit to take care of a baby! We aren’t fit to be parents!” He exclaims, taking the paper from your hands and reading it to himself again. His hair is the messiest you’ve ever seen, he ran his hands through it way too many times as he always does when things aren’t going as planned. His brothers says it’s a coping mechanism.

“We’ll find a way, I don’t know, we-”

“We can’t keep a houseplant alive, Y/N!” He cuts you off, words rushing out of his mouth without him thinking about them, you’re sure, but they still hurt. More tears prickle on your eyes as the implication of his words hit you, and he stops. They surely hit him too. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N, that’s not what I meant, I-”

“It’s okay.” You say, not minding the bite on your voice. 

You stand up fast, ignoring the sudden ache on your head and chest, and walk out before he can say anything. The next two days are spent in your friend’s house, alternating between crying, being angry at him and feeling numb. 

Your friend is out at night that Friday. It’s late, and you told her to go, you could take care of yourself. You’re halfway through your third take of The Notebook when a knock on the door startles you. Maybe it’s the upstairs neighbor again. She liked to come over sometimes to talk about life, and you surely wouldn’t mind the company. You swing the door open, not caring about your bed hair when you’re met with a face you hadn't seen in days. 

“Y/N,” he says before you can think of anything, one hand holding the door even though you wouldn’t shut it on his face, “Can we talk? Please?”

You sigh, pushing the door further with your foot, and he smiles awkwardly, following you inside. You sit on the couch, arms crossed, watching him, and he stands by the carpet, right in front of you. 

“Go ahead then,” you say, voice hoarse from not using it in a while, but he seems to relax at the tone of it. 

He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and opens them again, “I'm a dick.”

“Yeah, you are.”

He smiles. His hair is a mess, you notice, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it like that, it’s just… it caught me by surprise. I was scared and I didn’t think and I’m a complete asshole, I’m so sorry.” He says fast, tripping over his words, and you’d have laughed at his nervousness were this any other situation. 

“I’m scared too, Mammon. Fuck, I'm terrified. I have no idea how to be a mom, I don’t know what I’m gonna do!” Your arms are a little wild as you speak as if painting the picture of your insecurities, and he crouches down in front of you. 

“We’ll find a way. I promise.” He smiles, pulling out something from his back pocket, “If you’ll have me?” he takes your hand in his, placing something small in it. 

You open it, a smile forming on your lips when you see the baby green pacifier decorated with little yellow birds he’s placed on your hand.

“Mammon…” You say, tears running down your cheeks, and pull him in. His arms are strong around you, and at that moment you know you’re gonna make it. No matter what, you and Mammon were made for each other, and you’re sure your family will be all the better with your little addition to it. 

Masterlist

#obey me mammon #mammon avatar of greed #mammon x mc #mammon x reader #obey me! #obey me shall we date #obey me fanfic #obey me #obey me mammon fanfic

[writingpuddle]

“Don’t you ever get lonely?” Nicky asked, digging in his pack for a chocolate bar. To their left, the cliff dropped away precipitously, sheer granite cliffs like sentinels at the end of the world.

Neil stared at Nicky. “No,” he said.

“What, never?”

Neil looked out across the sweeping vista of mountains before them. A speck that could have been a hawk or a raven or a sparrow spun against the sky, too small and distant to judge. He’d stood in the middle of busy cities; he’d gone to school with hundreds; he’d even tried out for a track and field team once. He’d been surrounded by people, and he had been so ferociously lonely it had been like a knife in his chest.

“No,” he said, because he didn’t know how to explain—didn’t even want to, really. He’d felt more alone back in the so-called real world than he’d ever felt in the wilderness, miles from any other person. When there was no one around, there was no one to miss.

~~~The Long-Distance Hiker AU (A Bullet Point Fic)~~~

So after Neil’s mom died he kinda of ghosted around for a while and eventually ended up in a small hiking town in California

He met a bunch of thru hikers and figured, hey, my dad probably won’t find me if I’ve fucked off into the wilderness

So he starts hiking

And pretty soon he realizes it’s the best thing he could imagine

He spends all summer in the mountains and when winter rolls around he finds a temporary job in a skiing town working in a second hand gear shop

He’s an ultralighter in the most accidental sense possible

His gear is weird and cobbled together and his shoes are held together with dental floss

He sleeps under a tarp with a down blanket and a thin foam mat and he’ll eat the same shit day in day out without even registering it while he covers frankly obscene distances every single day

It basically gives Kevin an ulcer

Kevin’s an ultralighter, but in the stuck up, rich bitch way; his gear is probably worth thousands of dollars and he’ll lecture anyone who listens about ripstop nylon and is super snobby and elitist about who is a so-called “real” thru hiker (hint: anyone who doesn’t do it his way isn’t a real thru hiker)

(don’t worry he’ll get smacked around a little by people like Dan and stop being such a little bitch about it but he grew up rich so even though it might’ve been shit living with Riko he really doesn’t always take into consideration the context of how much fucking money gear costs when he’s preaching about ultralighting)

(yes I’m taking out my dislike for pretentious rich ultralighters on him, okay, but the difference is he’ll have character growth versus the people I met are probably still being preachy and self-important to this day)

Andrew’s like the exact opposite

His pack weighs like seventy pounds and he’ll pull a six-inch knife (a gross misuse of smart gear weight management) at anyone who comments

He has a completely contained single person tent that’s big enough to sit up in and a four-inch inflatable mattress

His sleeping bag is rated to like -20 even when he’s hiking in the summer

Nicky swears he once saw him pull a full-sized chocolate cake out of his backpack three days down the trail and everyone says that’s stupid and made up but secretly think its totally true

Andrew likes to hike alone but somehow he’s never more than a day away from Aaron and Nicky and when he keeps showing up near them it gets harder and harder to pretend like he doesn’t actually care about them

Nobody says anything, obviously, but Nicky gets a little teary when he starts to notice the pattern

It was Nicky’s idea; in this universe Erik got him into hiking when he was in Germany so he got the cousins into it as a bonding exercise and then it turned out it was the best family activity they had ever found

This is several years after they graduated and they’ve scrounged together enough time and money to hike the Pacific Crest Trail

Now the upperclassmen:

So Stephanie Walker is a trail angel: one of those people who lives near a long trail and provides snacks and rides and somewhere to stay and basically helps out anyone who comes by with whatever’s going on; she’s pulled a lot of people out of frankly dangerous situations and she’s not afraid of anything the trail has to offer

So Renee finds herself and her faith while living this life of meeting new hikers every day and it’s almost inevitable that she starts to hike and find solace in the wilderness

Allison is one of those Wild types: she’s done some hiking (much to her parents’ chagrin) but she’s never done a thru trail or even much overnighting before, but she’s ready to throw herself into it and doesn’t care how dirty she gets

She totally carries a tiny spa package though

The other women are very skeptical because they take pride in being free from societies expectations and make up and shaving but they come around after Allison pulls it out one time when they’re seven days into a ten day section and gives them face masks and they all have a little pedicure pampering session (so, so needed when your feet are being beaten and bruised by hard terrain all day)

She has a lot of new, expensive gear and is super touchy about people trying to help her (because a beautiful woman absolutely gets people trying to “help” all the time and it’s infuriating and condescending) but she learns to accept help from her closest friends

She was showing off near the beginning of the trail drinking with a bunch of guys and probably got too sloshed trying to act tough (alcohol hits you waaaay harder at high elevations dude, if you’re not expecting it you can get Fucked Up really fast)

It’s Seth who realizes things are getting out of control and pulls her out before the guys can do anything shitty which is how their friendship and eventually their relationship gets started

They piss everyone off with their constant breaking up and getting back together on the trail, sometimes hiking together for days and then splitting up and going to hike with other people but they find a lot of healing out there in the woods

Seth’s mom is totally dismissive and condescending of his hiking, she thinks it’s a stupid waste of time, but she thinks everything he does is a stupid waste of time so at least when he’s out there without cell service he has an excuse to not respond to her

Now Dan

Dan’s trailer trash, right

She’s got no fucking cash but she has this dream in her head to hike the PCT and she’s going to fucking well do it

Her gear is probably most similar to Neil’s except where his is a mess of weird priorities and held together by spit and twine

Hers is meticulously planned

It’s cheap, some of it’s over forty years old, but it’s hers

It’s probably the only stuff in the world that’s actually hers

She accumulated it over about four years, hitting all the second-hand gear events, saving up every penny, packing and repacking and writing everything out in great detail until David Wymack got wind of her plans at a gear event

He’s one of those guys who hiked the PCT thirty years ago back before anyone knew what it was except instead of feeling superior about that it means he knows exactly how much impact experiencing the wilderness can have for disenfranchised people

He approaches Dan and offers to sponsor her hike

She’s resistant at first; she planned this hike, she got all the stuff together, she was going to do it without anyone’s help

But he comes back and says he just wants her to write about her experiences and publish it on his website

He’ll pay her for the work, of course

And she wavers and finally caves because this will move her plans up by about two years if she can make money while she’s hiking instead of having to hoard up enough cash to take six whole months off

Her blog posts are a huge hit

She doesn’t preach about how the mountains saved her, or get too metaphorical about hiking or anything like that

She just talks about the real, raw experience of hiking

The friendships, the trials, the triumphs

The infuriating people whose mental image of the hiking community doesn’t include poor black girls who grew up in a trailer park, who say she’s an inspiration like they actually mean something else

She talks about the days that she flies up the mountains and the days that she can barely drag herself out of her tent and the day she realizes that Allison and Renee, these women she thought could not be more different from her, are the best friends she’s ever had in the world

And she’s takes fucking amazing pictures

She’s also very determined not to have a trail romance

That’s stupid and cliché

Look that guy Matt might be hot but she’s not interested

He’s clearly working through some stuff and she’s not here to be some guys savior or whatever

So Matt then

His mom helped him get sober a couple years ago and he’s been struggling with it ever since

She got him into hiking as an outlet and a healthy hobby and he took to it like a fish to water

He’s got legs for days and he doesn’t mind carrying a heavy pack, he can hike for hours without stopping

(The fact that he’s faster than her pisses Dan off a bit, but sometimes you gotta accept that you’ve got short legs and just hike your own hike, there aren’t any prizes for speed)

He relapsed again a couple months before his hike started and he and Randy weren’t even sure if he was going to be able to do it but he’s damned well going to try

So anyway

Pretty much everyone is trying to actually hike the PCT except Neil

He drives everyone bonkers

His motivation isn’t really about the trail so much as staying out in the wilderness where there are no gangsters to murder you

So he just does whatever he wants and keeps showing up at random points

He’s technically got one of the thru hiker permits but he frequently goes off on side trails not on the PCT and ends up hiding out in the woods so rangers won’t find him

He’ll just hitchhike straight through boring sections or anywhere that you pass through too many towns where he’d rather not be remembered

He keeps coming back to the PCT but it’s more like it’s a rough guideline of where to go than an actual route he’s taking

He’s got his natural colouring back because who’s dying their hair or wearing fucking contacts on the trail?

But also

Who would ever associate a runaway mafia kid with a guy with overgrown hair and a stained t-shirt who’s sitting serenely on a mountain pass in a photo on David Wymack’s website?

Nobody

That’s right kids, Nathan doesn’t have a role in this one because he doesn’t find Neil

Maybe he gets killed in a shoot out or something and some other gangster steps up and takes over, and in the shuffle Neil’s just kinda forgotten

Maybe he finds out months later and he just stares at the computer in shock because he should have known, shouldn’t he? He should have felt it when his father died

He should have realized that he was free

That happens later though

Who fucking cares what Riko’s doing honestly

Kevin has somehow attached himself to Andrew and is driving him up the wall with advice to improve his hiking/base weight/distance/etc and he sees this guy (Neil) who regularly covers like thirty or forty miles a day (obscene!) and is like YES this guy is my people!

Except when he starts talking to Neil he realizes he’s this total weirdo who doesn’t even have a cook set he just eats cold food (a common enough thing among ultralighters, but not like this. Oh god, not like this)

Neil’s just sitting there gnawing on a pack of uncooked ramen like a fucking animal

And he’s not! Even! Hiking! Properly!

You’ll never finish the trail if you hike like this!

Neil just gives him a blank look

He’s got no interest on getting on some “verified” list of people who hiked the PCT, he just likes hiking

Andrew likes him

I mean obviously he despises him what the hell is with that janky ass setup but also he’s so unconventional and unapologetic how could Andrew not be into that?

They’re the kind of people who give wilderness rescue personnel grey hair, but for completely opposite reasons

Neil keeps running into them because even though he covers so much ground every day, his meandering route means he doesn’t actually move down the trail very fast

They’ll be like wait weren’t you like a week ahead of us and he’s like oh yeah I heard about this cool waterfall and took a sixty mile side trail to visit it and nearly ran into a momma bear with two cubs, it was awesome

And they all start to grow on him, and each other, almost accidentally

Look none of them are out there romanticizing the trail as some kind of magical place where the problems of the real world disappear and the people are somehow more pure and true or whatever

People are people and they bring their issues wherever they go

But there is a paring down

When your daily concerns are just mileage and shoes and food and weather, a lot of other stuff fades into the background

And well the truth is a lot of people are on those trails to work through stuff

And they find each other

Gradually, without even really noticing

They team up in June, groups of three or four with crampons and ice axes to get over the Sierra’s.

Neil was planning to just do side hikes and wait for the snow to melt—he isn’t so reckless he wants to go over the ice alone, but Kevin insists he join them and for the first time he hikes in a group with Kevin and the cousins all together.

It’s weird

He’s not used to people talking to him when he’s hiking and he frequently doesn’t respond and it’s not because he’s being rude he’s just so focussed on what he’s doing and what’s around him that he literally doesn’t hear them

And then

Nicky slips

It’s not his fault, they did nearly everything right (Kevin may be a pretentious ass, but he does know his shit) but sometimes shit just happens for no reason

And they’re at the edge of the ice sheet so Nicky’s just untying himself from the rope that links them together, he’s not even moving, and the snow beneath him shifts and he doesn’t even have time to scream before he’s hurtling down the snow below the trail towards the cliff at the bottom of the ice sheet

Neil doesn’t even hesitate

He dives after him, ice axe in one hand like a fucking gladiator and gets his arm wrapped around Nicky’s waist

He slams the ice axe into the snow and it drags behind them, and it looks like it’s not going to catch, and the edge is getting closer and closer—

Until the axe catches something, and Nicky and Neil lurch to a halt, clinging to each other, hanging off of Neil’s one arm and the axe.

Neil looks up and sees Andrew, Aaron and Kevin in various places on the slope above them, their axes dug in and long gouge marks in the snow beneath their heels, strung together by a ropeline that’s still attached to Neil’s waist

That rope is probably the only thing that slowed them down enough that Neil could stop them without ripping his arm clean off

It’s hardly a by-the-book rescue, and in fact it was pretty stupid, but they’re okay, they’re okay, that’s all that matters

That night they light a fire down by a lake and Nicky cries on Aaron’s shoulder and Andrew keeps clenching his fists because he’s never felt so helpless in his life and it was Neil that jumped, not him

He knows that he was at the far end of the line and he would’ve made it worse if he had, but doing nothing while Neil risked his life to save Nicky

They don’t really talk about it

But you kind of can’t help being friends after that

And even after they’re out of the high mountains and back on solid trails Neil keeps tabs on them

And Nicky befriends the others and without even meaning to they start to develop a sort of loose trail family vibe

They’re not hiking together all the time like some of the groups they meet, but they check on each other all the time and wait up in resupply villages and bond over firepits and shitty hot chocolate mixes and swap tips on how to keep the butt-chafing at bay

Neil sticks to the outskirts, mostly, but he starts to open up a little, in fits and spurts, tiny non-specific things that wouldn’t even register to most people but that this particular group knows means more than that

He’s slowing down, too, sometimes hiking entire days with people and covering half his usual distance even when there’s no cliffs or glaciers threatening him

He likes hiking with Andrew the most, though

Because neither of them are big talkers when they’re hiking and Andrew’s pack might be absurdly heavy but he’s got legs the size of tree trunks and endurance to match, so he might not be fast but he can outwalk half the people on the trail by sheer relentlessness

They both like to camp up high, near treeline (so Neil can set up his tarp) and in the places that it’s legal they’ll start a small fire and Andrew will loan Neil his pot so he can actually cook his fucking ramen for once and sometimes they’ll watch the Milky Way rise and share secrets under the open sky, not looking at each other so they don’t break the illusion, and sometimes they won’t say anything at all but it’s okay, because they’re saying nothing together.

It’s nice

It’s maybe more than nice

The summer draws to a close and Neil is starting to realize that he doesn’t want it to

He never wants the hiking season to end but this time it’s different

This summer has been perfect

And he knows deep in his bones that once they leave the trail things will change

The others have lives to return to, and Neil…

The trail is all he has

And if he’s barely hiking alone at all these days, well, who’s going to call him out on it?

The others like having him around because he stops them from getting too fixated on the Trail to see the trail

He still takes side trips but now sometimes people will come along and he’ll stand at the base of a canyon staring up at the glossy white walls and Dan will snap a photo for her blog and smile, because the PCT is just a line on a map, but the hike is all of them; together

He’s hiking with Andrew in September when a storm hits, this time vicious

Neil huddles under his tarp in resignation

Storms suck, he always gets wet, no matter how much he lowers the tarp, but he’s used to it; he just waits it out

But it’s just getting worse

Hail lashing at the tarp and pummelling the ground and maybe for once he regrets camping so high up

And Andrew has to shout to be heard but finally Neil realizes he’s offering to let Neil come into his tent

You’re going fucking freeze, just get in here

Neil goes

It’s weird

It’s instantly weird

The tent is not built for two people, so they’re both sitting cross legged with their heads ducked to not press against the roof

The storms probably not going to let up soon, Andrew says

Yeah, Neil says.

Andrew sighs

Lie down, he says, and Neil does, and Andrew lies down next to him, shoulder to shoulder

It barely works, only because neither of them are very big people

Neil’s pack is outside wrapped in his tarp and all he has is his damp down blanket but he’s not cold anymore, not with Andrew bundled up in his ridiculous sleeping bag right next to him

The storm rages for nearly two days and what passes between them in that tent, nobody knows

If they’re barely ever seen apart after it, well. You only see people so often on the trail. It could easily be a coincidence

And if Neil doesn’t even set his tarp up on rainy nights anymore, well. They never camp near other people anyway, so who’s to know?

In early October the snow blows in, blocking the route to the finish.

They drift around a resupply village for almost two weeks, waiting for the trail to reopen, but finally even Kevin accepts that it isn’t going to

After all of that, none of them are going to finish the trail

It’s a disappointment—of course it is. For most of them, the end of their trip is now a nondescript exit into a village, no fanfare, no closure; they didn’t even know they were done for days

Still, it’s not so bad

They’re all together

Allison suggests Vegas, but they all laugh it down; they wouldn’t even know how right now, bearded and hairy and ravenous as they are

They go to South Carolina instead

It’s not really even discussed that they’ll stay together, they just all go; Allison hosts them at her resort and they laugh at the incongruous weirdness of seeing each other in real clothes, and it’s different, but it’s also okay

They stay for another two weeks, and they don’t hike another fucking inch

We should try the Continental Divide Trail sometime, Dan says

Her blog is so popular now that she’s got sponsorships from more than just Wymack waiting for her

She could make a career out of hiking and blogging and doing gear reviews and it’s a dream she’d never even realized she wanted until she had it

And if she accidentally fucked up and ended up with a hot trail boyfriend? Well, nobody’s perfect

And he has a great butt

(she has photos of it on her blog, from when they jumped into a glacier lake naked back in August)

Everyone is jealous

How about that trek in Iceland? Matt suggests

Or the whats-it-called in New Zealand, Allison says

Oh, I bet there’s some good ones in Europe! Nicky says. You guys can all meet Erik!

And it’s going to be different, but it’s not going away, and Neil feels calm in a way he never has at the end of a hiking season before

Eventually everyone has to start making plans to return to their lives, and jobs, and Neil sneaks out to the back of the house to sit in crisp fall air and watch leaves spiral down out of the trees

Andrew follows him

They sit together, watching the moon rise over the hills, and when Andrew asks Neil to come home, Neil says yes

#me? coping with my inability to go hiking by writing headcanons? its more likely than you think! #aftg headcanons #aftg au #andreil #bulletpoint fic #my writing #hiker au #gratuitous descriptions of hiker life #found family #this is like 3.5k idk man #this is very self indulgent lol