#he's suspicious but I like him so far he playing chess with the kids and felt bad which is. More than I can say for most of the cranes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

juniorgman187 · 3 years

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Fighting Fire With Fire (Reid Fic)

Summary: Reader must lower her pride after a date goes wrong and the only one who can rescue her is her mortal enemy - Spencer Reid.

A/N: This was a beast of a fic to write. It’s been in my WIP since September, and I managed to go from 11 pages to 22 pages in three days. It is now my longest fic thus far. I am insanely fucking proud of it and I hope it does well. Category: Angst Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: allusions to ‘catfishing,’ allusions to abduction, dub-con to taking provocative photos, alcohol, mentions of bruises, jealousy, carrying hug which implies weight of Reader (lmk if I missed anything) Word Count: 11.7k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

I tried to play nice; I really did, but there was no getting through to him. Everyday started and ended with us fighting fire with fire.

Maybe the reason the two of you butt heads so often is because of how similar you are.

That’s what the team would say when Spencer and I got into one of our daily (sometimes hourly) arguments.

They constantly encouraged us to get to know each other so that we’d finally see the likeness, and until recently, I wasn’t opposed to the idea. I was willing to do whatever it took to get him to like me. However, as previously mentioned, my willingness quickly dissipated in light of recent events.

Voluntarily spending more time than necessary with him would be a recipe for disaster no doubt.

Somehow, in a matter of a month, Reid decided that he simply did not enjoy my presence, which was the nice way of putting it.

To be more crass, he loathed me to no end.

Initially, I was operating under the assumption that he wasn’t fond of change, and with me joining the BAU, the change was too much too fast for him, but after four weeks, his attitude toward me never deviated. Yet again, I made another excuse for him, arguing to myself that people are allowed to not like me. I could respect that, but where he lost my respect was how he made a conscious effort to remind me of how much he despised me. Even when I was at my nicest, he still treated me like a scelerate.

If there was a prize for gaining a mortal enemy in the shortest amount of time, I guess I already won that without even trying. He hated me with a burning passion, for reasons unbeknownst to me, despite the fact that all I’d ever try to do was be his friend.

For far too long, I kept denying the part of me that knew making peace with him outside of work wouldn’t go well and it’d simply go down in history as another failed attempt of mine to form a bond with him, so it was at this point that I decided to face the facts.

He didn’t make it easy for me, either. It was hard having to be kind to someone that was only ever out to get me.

He would constantly correct me but only after I said something incorrectly, just so he could prove me wrong.

“If each police officer patrols a street, we’ll be able to cover the entire comfort zone.”

“Actually, we’d need three more officers if we want to cover the entire comfort zone. There’s still 2.347 miles that are unaccounted for.”

I never understood why he couldn’t just say his piece before me so that I didn’t look like an idiot, but I suppose that was the point.

And he had this infuriating, unwarranted habit of judging my taste in cinema and literature. Anytime I told Emily or Derek about a movie I saw or told Rossi about a book I read, he felt compelled to share his antagonistic opinions as if I asked for them in the first place. Sometimes even spoiling the endings for me!

“Rossi, I just started reading Doctor Sleep!” I was so eager to tell Rossi that, so much so that I’d become blind to one dark cloud’s own eagerness to ruin the fun.

“The hotel burns to the ground, but the ghosts don’t die with it.”

He said it with such monotony and nonchalance, not even bothering to look up from his own book to watch my reaction to his menacing act. He just didn’t care!

The list of reasons not to like him truly did go on and on, so it was almost insulting how people would compare the two of us.

They’d bring up the congruence in intelligence, the same affinity for reading, and closeness in age, but it only made me madder. The last person I wanted to resemble was Reid, except today, I gained another glaring similarity to him.

“Look at you two. Did you plan your outfits or something?” Emily playfully pointed out after I walked into the conference room.

I eyed the doctor sipping at his cup of coffee who swiveled around in his chair to see what everyone else was seeing. Just from a short glance, I spotted his navy blue button-up with white polka dots that was nearly identical to the color and print of my dress.

“Well, looks like one of us has to go home and change.” His lips grew into a mischievous smirk behind the rim of his mug.

Was that a joke? Did Spencer Reid make jokes now?

“Ha ha. Very funny.” I facetiously remarked, taking the only open seat at the table which was next to the jokester himself.

“I’m kidding. You look really nice today.” He alleged without a hint of irony. He was complimenting me now, too? It was so unfamiliar that it felt like uncharted territory, possibly even a trap.

“Why? Because I’m dressed like you?” I wasn’t going to fall for his words now, maybe the version of me who would do anything to gain his approval would have. She would’ve smiled and said ‘thank you,’ but this me was going to challenge him if that was the last thing I ever did. “Bit of a narcissist are we, Dr. Reid?”

“Mmm maybe,” He wagered, tilting his head from side to side as if to contemplate the possibility. “Or maybe I just really think you look nice.”

Without even thinking, my heart skipped a beat. I was utterly repulsed by how I let his words have any effect over me. I couldn’t believe that he’d actually managed to fluster me with mediocre flattery.

It felt like years that I had to sit next to Reid at the round table before Hotch dismissed the team for the flight.

30 minutes later, and we were on the jet. I’d taken one of the seats at the table opposite Derek and Emily, with Spencer beside me.

Little things like this I could handle, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before he started bothering me. Morgan was listening to music and Emily was turned around in her seat, facing the back to talk to Rossi. Reid was playing himself in chess, and it took all of my self-control to not be a total asshole and knock the board and its pieces over and into the aisle. Luckily, I had a good enough distraction.

Grant: can you ft tonight?

Me: we’ll see. i might have to work overtime.

For the months that I had been talking to Grant, I was deliberately ambiguous about my job because I wasn’t exactly keen on telling him that I worked for the FBI and that I might not be able to FaceTime him since I was in the process of investigating a series of homicides. That’d surely scare him away and I was never one to flaunt my government job anyway.

Grant: you look stunning today

Me: you haven’t even seen me today

Grant: don’t need to.

Grant: you’ll always be stunning to me.

“Who keeps texting you?”

I looked up from my screen to see Reid fixated on his game but still engaged in my business.

“No one,” I harshly replied, making a conscious decision to turn my phone on vibrate so he wouldn’t hear the chime of my text notifications.

With one nimble side glance, Reid eyed my screen. I nudged him away with extra force.

“Nosy much?!”

This stunned him. He wasn’t used to my coldness, he probably expected me to smile in a chagrined manner and not confront it - as I would have done - but now I was fighting back, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he liked it.

I knew he could read fast, but how he managed to look at my phone so quickly it was like he never even moved his eyes - I didn’t know. Somehow, though, he managed to capture Grant’s entire username, and I didn’t doubt that he caught my entire conversation with him, too.

“Who’s Grant?” The name rolled off his tongue like he was insulted to even be saying it.

“No one.”

He didn’t respond soon after I said this, which I misinterpreted as a little victory for me since I almost believed he was going to drop the subject, but in true Spencer Know It All Reid fashion, he just kept going.

“‘You look stunning today B-T-W. You haven’t even seen me today. Don’t need to. You’ll always be stunning to me.’ Doesn’t really sound like a ‘no one’ to me.” His recitation of my entire PRIVATE conversation with Grant embarrassed me.

Did I forget to add his eidetic memory and speed-reading ability to the list of reasons not to like him?

“Shut up!” I nudged him, this time using much more force than the last. I was becoming more and more inclined to push over his ridiculous chess game so that he’d finally take me seriously.

“Oh, really clever by the way. Vaguely insinuating that you ‘might not be able to call him because you’re working overtime’ just so you don’t have to disclose the true nature of your job.” Spencer’s sarcasm was thick.

“Are you just jealous because the only date you’ve been on was a fake one with a serial killer and not even your actual girlfriend while she was alive?” My reference to Cat and Maeve caught the attention of the entire jet.

Each member mentally rolled their eyes thinking ‘Here we go again.’ And if that wasn’t their reaction, they were certainly cringing at the fight that was ensuing.

Things had been suspiciously good between the two of us today so it was about time we argued. We were due for our daily quarrel.

“Oh, that’s right! The only girls who like you are victims in our cases.” Now this comment was referring to Lila and Austin. (I had Penelope to thank for filling me in on all of Reid’s ‘entanglements’ after I was first reassigned).

“Really? You wanna go there?” He sassed back, diverting his attention away fully from his chess game now. “Do you know how many people get ‘catfished’ when using online dating websites? Or the statistics on how many people are raped, assaulted, or murdered by said ‘catfish’?”

“I’m not stupid, Reid. He and I have been talking for months. We’ve been on calls and Facetime before, too. We’ve just never met in person. Sound familiar?”

“What Maeve and I had is not at all comparable to what you and this ‘guy’ have. And just because you’ve seen his face before doesn’t mean he’s not a serial killer or operating under an alias.”

I had to scoff. Who was he to label our relationship valid or not?

“What’s it to you anyway? We all know you’d be ecstatic if this guy turned out to be a serial killer or catfish. You’d get to rub it in my face and say ‘I told you so.’”

This touched a nerve. He hated it when I attacked his nice-guy facade.

“Is it so hard to believe I’m actually concerned for your wellbeing?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Fine. If you think I don’t care about you, then don’t come crying to me when you realize he’s not the guy you think he is.”

“Oh, trust me, I won’t! It’s not like you’d be able to protect me anyway, Pretty Boy.” I sneered, using Morgan’s nickname for him as an insult got to him, and I could see it in the way his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared.

Hotch had to interject now. “Alright, (y/l/n), Reid, that’s enough. We need to focus on what’s actually important.”

I settled back down in my seat, facing forward and avoiding eye contact with Reid.

“Have fun on your date,” He muttered under his breath. “Hope you survive it.”

Bastard.

For the rest of the case, I was on edge. Deliberately avoiding him was a much harder task than one might think. I had to wait at least ten minutes for my coffee, so I wouldn’t be at the machine when he was there, and if I had to guess, he probably took longer just to make me wait in agitation. I had to awkwardly squeeze into a new spot beside Rossi and Hotch when we were delivering the profile. I had to ask not to travel in the same SUV as him.

And this exhausting routine went on for days. In fact, I’d managed to almost go the entire case without interacting with him. That was until Hotch sent us both in the field to apprehend the unsub.

“Are you sure?” I asked with clear reluctance.

“Are you questioning me?” Hotch replied sternly.

“No, sir.”

I was already on thin ice being the new recruit, so I knew better than to question any of Hotch’s orders. And as miserable as working with Reid was, I figured he’d at least ease up on the hostility when we needed to be professional. Evidently though, even in the field, he wasn’t willing to work together with me.

It was a quick decision, not careless in the least, however. The unsub had locked himself in his warehouse and refused to leave unless we were brave enough to drag him out of there ourselves. The ultimatum he gave specified that only one of us could do it and we both agreed that I should go in, seeing as he’d underestimate my strength as a woman, and I’d have the upperhand when I inevitably apprehended him.

However, he also explicitly told us that I couldn’t come in with a gun - it had to be an even playing field.

“You are not going in without a gun,” Reid ordered.

“We don’t have time to argue about this - I have a spare on me, okay? There are three hostages in there, two of which are children.” Without giving him a chance to respond, I handed him my gun and holster.

Had I let him waste a single second more of my time, we wouldn’t have been able to save the three hostages and successfully arrest the unsub. I saw this as a victory and I was almost willing to celebrate it with him, but it wasn’t long before he let our enmity tear us apart again.

When we got back to the precinct, I went to the locker room to change, then suddenly, Hotch came in.

“I’ve been informed that you went in unarmed against a fellow agent’s orders. This matter will be discussed in my office when we get back. I should warn you, (y/n), you do not want to make this mistake again.” Hotch left me with those foreboding words, and I knew, I knew immediately that Reid was to blame for this.

If I took a look in the mirror of my locker, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I saw that my face was turning a bright shade of red. I was fuming - bursting at the seams from the anger building within me that was desperately fighting to escape. I could imagine myself as a cartoon character with steam blowing out either of my ears. I was about to go on a rampage, and no one - absolutely no one - could stop me.

The last straw was hearing him come in. This was my opportunity to unleash what was already boiling.

“What the hell, Reid? ‘(y/n) went in unarmed.’ Seriously?!” I undid the velcro on my vest so hastily out of my blind rage that the spiky side of the velcro strip nearly sliced my finger. “Are you trying to get me fired?”

“If that’s what it takes to make you realize how stupid of a choice that was, then yes, I do.” He was so calm and collected in his inflection that it angered me all the more.

“What are you even talking about? What ‘stupid choice’? You knew I had a second gun on me. And even if I didn’t carry it, I still would’ve had my vest on. I wasn’t going in unarmed or unprotected, so why would you tell Hotch that?”

“In the time it would take you to assess the danger, react, and then reach for the gun at your ankle, the unsub would’ve been able to shoot you twice - if not more. That’s going in unprepared, which is going in unarmed.”

I scoffed in disbelief that he was actually reprimanding me. “Are you kidding? This is all based on a technicality? Did your eidetic memory somehow forget about what happened with Maeve? Because my memory didn’t. I know for a fact that you went into that warehouse without a vest or a weapon. And unlike you, I had a spare and my vest. AND I actually apprehended the unsub. Did you stop Diane?”

This crossed a line and I knew it, but it was too late to take it back, and clearly, it was much too late to repair any relationship I had with him. We were far beyond the point of no return.

He was so mad that he didn’t even answer me. The only response I could gauge was from his body language, which by the looks of it, all the signs of anger were plain on his face. He clenched his jaw so hard I could hear his teeth grind. Even his nostrils flared so primitively. His eyes narrowed down at me with a glare that said, ‘I’m the predator and you’re the prey.’

“Yeah, exactly.” I spat when he stayed silent.

I turned around, starting towards the exit, but I was too furious to stop there, so I spun around and unleashed the remainder of my wrath that had been dying to come out.

“Look, I get it. I’m the new kid around here, and it sucks when someone new comes in and changes up the team dynamic, but any mistake I make, or any mistake Hotch thinks I make, could send me packing. You’ve been working in this unit for years, and even if Hotch questions your choices, he won’t reassign you. He won’t even threaten it. He’s willing to overlook your mistakes because he knows that what you have to contribute to the team is too vital to let go, but I haven’t even had my chance to show him what I have to offer. So when I do make a mistake, there is nothing for me to fall back on, nothing to redeem me, and no safety net, but you? You have years of experience on your back to break your fall. So don’t you dare act like you’re doing me a favor by reporting my ‘mistake’ to Hotch. You might be costing me my dream job, and if you think that makes us friends - think again.”

I stormed out of the locker room seeing red.

This war was far from over.

_ _ _

“You’re clenching your fists again,” Emily said under her breath. I was grateful that she said it in a hushed tone, otherwise she might’ve revealed my lingering anger to the whole jet, which wouldn’t have been good.

I immediately unclenched them, opening up my hands to reveal small, dark C shaped imprints on my palms from where my nails had dug into them.

I should’ve expected that she would’ve learned at least one of my tells by now. I did have many after all. Cheek biting, fist-clenching, leg bouncing.

“Something bothering you?” She probed quietly.

She set her book down to give her undivided attention to this conversation. That was enough to tell me that an excuse like, ‘Nothing, I’m fine,’ would not suffice. She wouldn’t be satisfied until I told her the truth, which I surely did not want to tell. So I settled for a half-truth.

“Hotch wants to talk when we get back.”

From my peripherals, I saw her knit her brows together in confusion. “Is . . . is that it?”

“Mhm.” I lied.

“But that’s not enough to warrant the fist clenching. Cheek biting - sure - you do it when you’re anxious, but not fist-clenching. You only do that when you’re angry about something.”

“Oh, so you have figured out all my tells,” I smirked.

“Pfft, I figured them all out the first week you got here, but I won’t tell you the rest, otherwise you might try and hide them from me,” She joked.

I shook my head playfully. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just worked up about something - it’s nothing you need to worry about though.” Habitually, my eyes looked right up in his direction. I caught a glimpse of him sprawled against the couch, sleeping. He was lucky I wasn’t ranting about the little stunt he pulled earlier to Emily. He should be thankful that I was even trying to protect his reputation to her at all.

“I get it if you don’t want to talk about it, but it does help. Take it from me, someone who really only trusts myself, you shouldn’t hide what you feel.”

What you feel.

I clung onto those words.

What was I really feeling?

Was I upset that instead of receiving praise for the arrest I made, I was scolded like a child? Was I angry that Hotch believed what Reid had to say about my “problematic behavior” instead of believing in me?

Or did I feel betrayed that despite my best efforts to build a bridge, Reid was tearing it apart brick by brick? Burning it to pieces with the fire of his rage?

“Thanks.” I bleakly said to Emily. I would’ve told her the truth, but it didn’t feel necessary at that moment. If anything, it just would’ve reflected badly on me.

Truthfully, she was the closest thing I had to a friend in the BAU, and if I wanted a permanent spot here, I needed to make more of them - and fast.

“Hey, (y/n), we’re all going down to O’Keefs tonight to celebrate. You wanna join us?” Morgan asked, walking up the aisle and crouching down beside my seat to talk to me.

“Oh, I wish I could, but I have to talk with Hotch when we get back,” I explained, smiling politely.

“We can postpone the meeting till first thing Monday morning. I need to go home and be with Jack, anyway,” Hotch added.

I didn’t realize he could hear me from where he was sitting, which made me all the more nervous that he might’ve overheard the entire conversation between me and Emily earlier.

“Looks like I’m free,” I looked back at Morgan. “Does the offer still stand?”

“Anything for you, sweet cheeks.” He winked.

Judging from the lightness of the atmosphere, everyone, except maybe Hotch and Rossi, would be celebrating at O’Keefs - including Spencer.

I think I might’ve actually preferred to be scolded by Hotch tonight, instead of being silently glared at by Spencer, but it was already too late to revoke my confirmation of presence.

Because, if Hotch could hear me from where he was sitting, then Spencer could, too.

He already heard I was coming, and there was no way I was backing down.

_ _ _

In spite of the fact that I could barely hear myself think over the loud chatter and blasting music, I could still feel the rage radiating off of Spencer. You would think with how long his nap was on the jet, he wouldn’t be so cranky, but I guess he just couldn’t sleep off his disdain for me after our minor altercation.

I wondered if the team could see it, too. The way he was burning a hole into me with his fiery stare. The tension was palpable, as it has always been, but remember - I’m not the one who wanted it that way.

He started this. I was only making the feeling mutual.

“So what about you, (y/n)? Are you seeing anyone?”

I tried to hide my growing smirk behind the rim of my beer, but I knew I couldn’t hide much from them. Of course, right across from me, Spencer was glaring at me expectantly, waiting for the answer he already knew.

“Oooh, look at her - she’s blushing! Spill.” Penelope ordered, beating her palm on the table so enthusiastically it shook all the drinks on it.

“Well, there’s this one guy I’ve been seeing for a while,” The second I started speaking, I noticed Spencer rolling his eyes. I figured his apprehension was the only response of its kind that I would receive, but I was very mistaken.

“How did you two meet?” Penelope giddily asked, nearly jumping up and down in her seat.

“A dating app, actually.”

The table went completely silent, and I immediately felt my stomach drop. It was as if I’d just said something very wrong. With just a quick glance in front of me, Spencer was basking in this.

What a dick.

Emily hesitated to ask. “...Have you two met in person before?”

Now it was my turn to hesitate to speak. “No, not yet.”

I took another sip of my drink even though I wasn’t thirsty. I just wanted to hide any part of my face I could to shield myself from the five sets of eyes burning holes into me now, rather than just the one. Trying to make matters better, I spoke all too quickly, nearly sputtering on my beer. “I’m completely safe, though. Nothing sketchy’s going on, I promise.”

“Of course,” JJ agreed. “We totally trust you,” neglecting to attach the cliche, ‘It’s him we don’t trust.’ But if she had, it would’ve spoken everyone’s bubble thoughts right about now.

“Just be careful, mama.” Derek’s response felt the most sincere, and I honestly believed he was happy for me, but it didn’t change how much their judgement initially stung.

For the rest of the night, I didn’t talk. No one noticed.

Except maybe the last person I wanted to notice.

I quietly slipped away somewhere in the night when the conversation was at its highest precisely so they wouldn’t question where I was going or if I was okay. If they had asked, the truthful answer to the former would’ve been ‘just outside to get some air’ and the latter ‘no.’

The cool breeze drifted through the door like rising fog and for the briefest moment in time, I felt suspended in the space around me - I’d finally caught my breath. That feeling wouldn’t last long, though.

I’d intentionally gone outside to compose myself until I came back a person who wasn’t on the verge of tears, but apparently, trying to pull myself only resulted in my falling apart. A ball of yarn unraveling is the closest comparison I can draw to what I must’ve looked like, crying quietly on the street.

“I figured I’d find you here.”

It was the mere sound of someone’s voice that shocked me, but it was the person whose voice it was that led to the frustration that followed.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be inside talking to the team of people who also agree with you about Grant?”

He was too much of a nuisance to warrant exchanging eye contact with so I simply stared forward as I spoke and wiped the tears away that were still pooling on my lower lash line. I hoped he hadn’t actually seen me crying, but from what I could tell, he was probably standing there long before he said something. And if he was truly looking at me as deeply as it felt like right now, then he’d have noticed my bloodshot eyes, flushed cheeks, and unending sniffling.

“Is that why you disappeared back there? Because you’re upset they didn’t exactly like the idea of your relationship?” The pain in the ass really tried, he really tried to get me to look at him by facing me and making these gestures with his hands that should’ve gotten my attention, but instead, I stayed put leaning against the wall, keeping my line of sight straight ahead.

“(Y/n), they weren’t insulting you or judging you -”

“Then why did it feel like it?” For the first time since he’d joined me, I’d looked at him. I didn’t even mean to and I had every intention of denying him that privilege for the entire duration of our conversation, but as soon as I asked him my question, we locked eyes, and I saw it written all over his face.

He felt sorry for me.

Now, he could clearly make out how distraught I was from this unobstructed view of my face that was kindled by the dim, flickering yellow glow of the streetlight beside us. And he kept staring, looking into my eyes to read me just as easily and just as quickly as he read a book.

“All we want is for you to be safe,” His voice crackled momentarily, and it actually touched some part of me for how genuine it sounded. “We weren’t trying to judge you or to insult you, and I’m sorry if it felt that way, but if we want your safety, and you tell us about something that could be potentially harmful, then of course we’re going to be apprehensive about it. That’s how people that care about you should react.”

“So are you saying that I don’t care about myself because I’m engaging in something risky?” Isn’t that the most ironic statement of this year? The definition of our job was risky, and even if this wasn’t the safest relationship on the planet, it was nothing like what we put ourselves through everyday being in the field.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying -”

“So what are you saying?” I dared. He shook his head and sighed like he was about to give up, but I needed an answer. “No, please, do continue. Finish what you were gonna say. Since you apparently know everything, 187. Please go ahead - tell me what you think I should do.”

Tell me what you really came out here to say, I ordered him with my eyes.

“I think I respect you more than you respect yourself, and that’s really saying something. Because if you actually liked yourself as much as I do, then you would realize that subjecting yourself to this nonsensicality of a long-distance relationship is not only dangerous - but insulting to your worth, too. You deserve more than that, (y/n).” He couldn’t have been clearer when he murmured a low and firm, “Much more.”

The world was spinning on its axis too fast for me to process anything he said before snapping back at him. “So what exactly is it you want me to do?”

With utmost clarity in both annunciation and intention, he told me, “Break up with him.”

Not a shadow of a doubt in his words.

Then, like the phantom of the opera himself, he vanished back into the bar, but even if he had stayed, I wouldn’t have had anything to say to him. I was simply rendered speechless.

Circling back to my previous argument, I questioned once more why was it any of his business anyway? I was allowed to do as I pleased and I most certainly did not have to listen to him. And I didn’t.

But I should’ve.

_ _ _

My Monday morning meeting with Hotch wasn’t nearly as fire and brimstone as I thought it would be. It did however feel like the equivalent to an “I’m disappointed in you” parent speech. In some ways, I related to the average teen who was grounded. Except instead of my phone being taken away, it was my freedom. From now on, I could only follow executive orders that had been given to me. At least for the time being.

It was clear that, deep down, some part of Hotch knew what I’d done was the right call, but he couldn’t give me any favors. Not until they were deserved on my end.

Walking onto the jet after our meeting, however, felt more juvenile than the punishment itself. I was a kid again, re-entering my classroom after using the restroom, only to have all eyes on me as I came through the door.

As per usual, the only empty chair was next to Reid. There’d been too many instances of this happening to think it was just a coincidence. At this point, I had to assume it was by design. Whose design however? That I didn’t know.

“Hello, trouble,” He sang when I took my seat.

I could only assume that this new nickname was based on what took place in Hotch’s office - thanks to him, need I remind you - but I didn’t care to know the origin because that would require talking to him, and for several reasons, that was the last thing I wanted to do. The first of which was what happened less than three days ago. An event we both hadn’t mentioned yet, and I hoped we never would.

I took every preventative measure in the book. I changed seats with JJ. I moved to the couch. I even started reading in the little hallway between the kitchenette and bathroom of the jet to avoid sitting beside him, but against all my best efforts, he always found a way to bug me. When there’s a will, there’s a way. After exhausting any real reason he had to talk to me, he had to get creative.

“You’ve been on that same page for four minutes and twenty-seven seconds.” I heard him say when he walked up to the kitchen to reach for the pot of coffee. Almost expecting I’d ask him what he meant, he added the explanation casually. “It never takes you more than three minutes and twelve seconds to move onto the next page. So either you’re not understanding the material or you’re not actually reading.”

It was utterly hilarious of him to imply that either of those things were definitely the answer. “What if I’m just taking my time reading this page, genius? Ever thought of that?”

His eyes turned into slits as he leaned in closer to examine me. “You’re blinking rate just increased, too.”

“Stop!” I screeched childishly, pushing him away by his shoulders in an attempt to get him off my back, but he was far from off my back. No, he was right against it. More specifically, his hand was on the small of it.

Leaning in so close that his lips were practically pressing on the shell of my ear, he whispered, “Come find me when you’re ready to tell me the truth.”

He didn’t need to know his words or actions had any sort of effect on me, so I kept the most stoic facial expression on, and I didn’t say a single thing back. He turned back around to leave with the hand on my back being the last thing to go. His lingering touch caused a shiver to run down my spine while paradoxically burning my body from the friction.

I was disgusted with myself for having let him elicit any sort of reaction from me, even if he wasn’t aware of it.

“Yeah ... well, d-don’t expect that to be anytime soon,” was my poor attempt at a retort to shut him up.

“Whatever you say, trouble.”

_ _ _

Personal space can be a wonderful thing. Much less so when it’s invaded, however.

After what felt like the longest flight ever, all I wanted was to take a shower and go to bed. My wishes were granted when I was able to wash off the stress and exhaustion and slip into a blush pink satin pajama set Grant sent me that I’d been meaning to wear. The plunging neck of the tank top was lined with lace and adorned with the tiniest little bow at the center. To match the shirt, the hem of the shorts were lined with lace that trailed up the small triangular slits on the side of the shorts, where at the vertex of them was the same little bow detail. For such a pure and innocent color as baby pink, you’d think it’d be somewhat less revealing. The longer I started at myself in the mirror while wearing it, the more aware I’d become of the intentions behind why Grant had sent it.

How cute, I thought, rolling my eyes.

Gifts should always be appreciated, if for no other reason than the effort put into it, but this just felt slimy. There was obviously no valiant romantic intent behind the negligee, which spoiled the delight of receiving something out of the blue from him. What’s worse was that I wasn’t even sure how to thank him for something like this.

Me: thank you for the pajamas. they’re so cute!

Lying was easier over text message, in case you were wondering what the perks of a long distance relationship were.

Grant: good, I’m glad you like them. are you wearing them right now?

But sometimes, when you should lie, you don’t. And you regret it later on - take it from me.

Me: yeah, they’re super comfy

Grant: great! i wanna see them on! take a pic

As if to compensate for the indisputable hatred I had for this lingerie and what it stood for in our relationship, I did the only thing I could think that would make him think I really liked them. That I felt good in them.

I took pictures - not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, Yelp review pictures, though - provocative ones.

In the same breath I went to take them, though, Spencer’s words rang through my head.

You deserve more than that. Much more.

Shaking off the thought of Spencer, I decided against what the little voice in my head that sounded too similar to his would’ve said.

To add to the illusion, I situated myself within the hotel sheets and used the front camera to capture my chest that was very much on display in this top. In the middle of rolling around the bed, trying to find the angles that wouldn’t show my face of dejection, the door opened.

Instantaneously, I clawed at the sheets until they wrapped around me like a towel. I was ashamed to admit they provided more coverage than these ‘pajamas’ did.

My shriek of shock must’ve sounded familiar to the stranger intruding on me because no sooner did I scream than they questioned, “(Y/n)? What are you doing here?”

Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

“Spencer, what the hell are you doing in here?” I grumbled, struggling to maintain a tight enough grip on the sheets that would keep them from falling and unveiling a sight I desperately did not want him to see.

“I asked you first.”

Boy, if you only knew how badly I wanted to slap that smirk right off his face. “This is my hotel room obviously. Your turn.”

Returning just the same tone, inflection, and vocals, he imitated me. “This is my hotel room obviously.” Like one of those magic tricks he’d show Henry or Jack, he miraculously flashed a room key between his index and middle finger that wasn’t there before.

“No, that’s impossible.”

“I opened the door, didn’t I?” That damn smirk was still there when he asked this. Maybe, just maybe, if it hadn’t been so condescending, I would’ve thought his sarcasm was ... attractive. Disgusting, I know.

“Well, if you actually plan on staying here, then you’re sleeping on the floor or the couch, got it?”

My question went unanswered until I turned around to follow where he’d traveled in the time that I spent pondering how this happened. Now perched at the window, sitting on the arm of the chair in a way that chairs weren’t meant to be sat on, he continued to stare silently at me.

“What? What is it?” I urged.

“What’s going on with the …” He made a side to side sweeping motion with his key card. “Bed sheets?”

Consciously, I shimmied the fabric further up my body. Seeing as there was virtually no way to escape an honest answer, I confessed. “If you must know ... I’m wearing p-pajamas.” My own body was rejecting the shameful admission causing the word to stumble out of my mouth.

He didn’t need to know any more than that to gather what kind of garments they were. He already figured it out.

“Did Grant give them to you?”

I almost rolled my eyes at the implication. “What makes you say that?”

“Because I know you,” He punctuated every word perfectly. “And I know that you wear big shirts and sweatpants to bed because you don’t see the point of spending money on clothes that are only made for you to sleep in - especially if they’re clothes that make you uncomfortable like these ones clearly do.”

Although, I greatly despised the fact that there was even a little bit of a chance that I might’ve agreed with him, I still defended Grant. “It was a thoughtful gesture.”

“Thoughtful, right,” He scoffed. “And which head was he thinking with?”

I was baffled he had the gall to say such an innuendo. “Spencer!”

How dare he? So what if Grant bought me something provocative because he was physically attracted to me? At least someone was.

Despite the ferocity plain on his face, he chose not to pursue this conversation. Visibly biting back on words he knew would hurt me, Spencer managed to sound remarkably genuine when he promised me, “I won’t look if you don’t want me to.”

I want you to, was my very first thought. Oh, God, that’s so fucked up, was my second.

He underlined his sincerity by turning fully around until he was facing the window. “But we should probably put the sheets back on the bed if you plan on sleeping on it.”

He was so patient as he waited for me to remove the cloth from my body. It almost made me feel guilty. He didn’t grumble or gripe, nor did he pressure me to do it at all. So by rights, there should’ve been no reason for me to take so long to let the barrier fall - he wasn’t looking at me. But I was just so goddamn embarrassed.

This wasn’t me, and even he knew that.

“You can turn around now,” I mumbled quietly once my safety net of a bedsheet had abandoned me. My arms were crossed over my chest and my thighs were pressed so tightly against each other as if to limit the surface area that Spencer could scrutinize.

That never came.

He did look, I could tell that much. But it wasn’t a look I’d ever seen before. It wasn’t rage or annoyance or pity. It was a look of lust.

A look that made me positively weak in the knees. A look far more sensual than even my racy garments.

“I’ll just sleep in Morgan’s room tonight, okay?” He offered once he finally broke out of his incapacitation. Grabbing the two opposite corners of the sheets that I was holding, it was a team effort as we arranged the covers where they belonged. It was probably the longest period of time we’d ever worked together without fighting or talking at all for that matter..

Not a single word was exchanged between us while Spencer gathered his things to leave for Derek’s. The room started to feel dangerously empty in the stillness.

When he slipped past me to make his way out, I caught his upper arm, successfully pulling him back around.

I could’ve been sweet, I should’ve. But that wasn’t our thing. So I settled for what came naturally to us and what would set off the least amount of red flags - I didn’t play nice. “As long as you promise not to hog the entire bed with your behemoth body, we can sleep together -” Catching the words as soon as they came out and what they could’ve implied, I began backtracking. “Sleep in the same bed. Sleep as in rest. Not sleep as in … anything else.”

Then, in one of those rare moments- he laughed. He actually laughed. Like a real, hearty, sudden laugh. “I know what you meant, (y/n).”

I’ll never forget the smile that followed the world’s greatest laugh either.

Oh, God, I’m so fucked up.

_ _ _

Spencer’s POV

Domesticated animals are smarter than we give them credit for. Studies have shown that pets can actually sense time; They know when it’s time for their owner to leave for the day and when they’ll be coming home, too.

Animals aren’t dumb - and neither was I.

Like a dog sniffing out their owner’s imminent absence in the home, I could tell (y/n) was leaving the hotel room for the night. If her current state wasn’t convincing enough, then her behavior throughout the entire day supported that theory just as well.

Whether it was her phone, the clock on the wall, or her watch, she was evidently keeping a close eye on the time. She did it so often, though, that you would think she would just use simple deductions to figure out what time it was by estimating the time it was when she last checked, but nope. She rarely let more than a minute go by without monitoring the clock.

My suspicions didn’t end there. What’s more suggestive was the anxious fidgeting. She had her tells of anxiety - everyone does - but this was a level of stress I’d never seen her exhibit before, not even in the field.

She kept cracking her knuckles, even when she’d exhausting all the popping noises she could from them. Her leg-bobbing was another big tell, too. I tend to sit on tables rather than in the chairs at said table, allowing me to feel the earthquake occurring on the precinct floor. Her leg was bouncing up and down so vigorously it was practically shaking the room.

I would’ve asked her what she was so impatient about, but I feared I already knew the answer.

Grant.

And if I never heard that name roll off her tongue again, it would be too soon.

That didn’t mean I couldn’t ask where she was going, though.

Pretending to read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, I barely let my eyes venture far off the page when I loudly asked from the window seat, “So where are you going tonight, trouble?”

The faintest sound of a chuckle erupted in the bathroom, most likely from the nickname I hadn’t let die yet.

“Nunya,” was her ever-so mature answer.

I didn’t want to give her the chance to say ‘nunya business’ like I knew she would, so I quickly interjected with a monotone, “How clever of you.” If she wanted to be a child about this, then so be it.

“Let’s see. You brought your good heels out of your suitcase, which you only wear on special occasions. And you put on a different perfume than the one you usually use, so I’m assuming it’s new. ... If I didn’t know any better, trouble, I’d say you’re going on a date.”

She peeked her head out of the bathroom doorway to say, “You’re creepy, you know that?”

Seeing the small portion of her face that was embellished with a smile would’ve been enough if only I knew what dress she was hiding in behind that wall. I had yet to see that part of her ensemble, but if I had to guess, it would break my heart.

“Just saying,” I casually lied while clearing my throat.

“Well,” I heard her begin from within the bathroom. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Grant is meeting me tonight.”

Kill me now.

“I thought Grant lived in D.C.” Not that that would change much if he was already here.

“Yes, he does, but he’s driving all the way here to meet me. Seeee,” She drew out the word. “Would a serial killer do that?”

I refrained from giving the obvious answer: Yes.

“Well, I hope you don’t plan on bringing him back here. Otherwise, that’d be terribly awkward, don’t you think?” My allusion to the possibility that Grant would come back here to find me in her bed was borne from the intentions that were a complete contradiction to the words I’d just spoken. It, in fact, wouldn’t be terribly awkward. No, it would be fun. For me at least.

I would have loved to have seen the look on his face, and the worry on hers as she tried to explain who I was and why I had any right to be in (y/n)’s gravity.

The room went silent again while I stayed on the same page of my book and, unbeknownst to her, waited for her to enter the room. How long she was taking was starting to worry me, though.

“Need any help in there?” I called out.

“Nope,” She said through a strained voice that proved she was indeed struggling with something.

“Really?” I asked once more to give her another opportunity to lower her colossal pride. “Cause it sounds like you need help.”

“Nope. I’m good.” Liar.

I knew her too well. I counted down to the exact second when she finally scrambled to ask, “Can you help me zip up my dress?”

“Yyyup.” I’d already resigned to the fact that I would have to help her, bouncing happily off the bed when she finally admitted it and letting myself lose the page I was on as I tossed the book haphazardly behind me.

I was forced to join her in the bathroom for it was already hard for her to humble herself enough to ask me for help, so she certainly couldn’t be expected to lower her pride again and walk out to a place more convenient for me.

The first thing I noticed was that it was a space clearly not made for two. It was so cramped that I ended up right against her in order to fit. The second thing I noticed was how she made no movements to distance herself. She was so close to me that I could actually see the little hairs on the back of her neck standing up from where my breath ghosted on the area. The sterile smell of hotel bathrooms had been replaced by the flowery, aromatic scent of her new perfume, and my heart broke all over again.

Using the back of my fingers, I cast a barely-there caress on her neck to stroke her hair out of the way to clear the path of the zipper. The little hairs on the back of her neck stood up again.

She liked that.

“So do I get to know where you’re going?” I reached for the zipper on the small of her back. “For safety purposes, of course.”

“Aww, you looking out for me, Dr. Reid?” She teased in a seductive tone while gathering her hair into a makeshift ponytail that for the shortest second recorded in time might’ve reminded me of a constantly recurring intrusive image.

“Always, trouble.”

The zipper fastened with absolutely no resistance all the way to the top. My eyes flashed to the mirror to catch her expression, which told me everything I needed to know.

What a pretty little liar. She didn’t actually need my help.

Comprehending that the realization dawned on me, she gave me what she knew would shut me up. “We’re going to The Rooftop at Lamont’s.”

How effortlessly she slipped past me without a thank you or a glance in my direction served as a rude awakening.

“Well, you should take an umbrella with you. It looks like there’s gonna be a storm tonight.” This was my small way of coming to terms with the reality of the situation.

“Eh,” She waved my suggestion off with a dismissive hand. “We’ll be fine. Oh, and don’t even think about stalking me!” She warned before exiting the room.

In the blink of an eye, she was gone - my peace of mind having left with her.

_ _ _

The amount of sleep you need varies for each person and is affected by several factors. However, for most adults, 7–9 hours per night is the ideal amount. And I was slowly reducing that optimal quantity, hour by hour, until there was none left.

I would continue to sacrifice my sleep so long as I was awake for her return. If she’d asked why I was still up, I would lie. Though I wouldn’t look half so pretty as she did when she lied.

Losing rest seemed like such a small price to pay to make sure I was fully alert in the event that an emergency happened, even if I would suffer the consequences in the morning. But hey - that’s what caffeine is for, isn’t it? To re-energize oneself after staying up to guarantee one’s enemy’s safety.

Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly why Kaldi invented coffee in 750 A.D.

Besides the thunderstorm, my mind also made great company for situations like these. Granted, the visions it would project kept me up for a reason - they were all so awful.

There was simply no projected reality where things would turn out alright.

If she had the time of her life on her date, she would come back to throw it in my face that I’d been wrong, and her admiration for Grant would have deepened.

Or if he stood her up, she’d be devastated, but instead of letting me console her, she’d push me away as easily as she always did.

In a more neutral instance, perhaps she would admit it wasn’t as great meeting him as she thought it would be and the relationship would fade out for innocent reasons. Even if that seemed like the most favorable circumstance, she would eventually grow to resent me for planting the seed of doubt in her head in the first place.

But nothing- nothing I could have imagined would be as treacherous as what actually happened.

At exactly 1:09 a.m, my phone started to ring. I can’t explain to you what it was, but I just knew - it was her calling, and it wasn’t even her number.

“(Y/n)? Is everything okay?”

If she said something beforehand, I couldn’t hear her because the storm was too loud and her voice was too quiet. “Did I wake you up?”

I reassured her with a tone I didn’t even recognize. “No, no. I was awake. Why? What’s up?” The line went quiet again, forcing me to prompt her to speak in order to find out if she was still there on the call. “(Y/n)?”

“Spencer ...” She choked out a hoarse sob. “I need you. I need you to come get me, please.”

My eyes clenched shut at the dreadful sound of her sorrow, and I jolted into action. After scrambling to gather the keys to her car that she’d left behind, I fled the room faster than ever before.

“I’m on my way, (y/n). Stay right there. You’re at The Rooftop at Lamont’s right?”

The poor thing took the longest pause in history, either from shame or disorientation. “He threw me in the back of his car and drove me all the way to D.C. I …” Her breath caught on her dry throat again. “I, um, I managed to escape and now I’ve barricaded myself in a payphone booth. I haven’t called the police yet. You were the first person I thought to call. I just, I just needed to hear your voice.”

My knuckles turned an unfamiliar shade of white when I gripped the steering wheel, picturing her caged up in a rectangular box, dialing my number instead of 911 just so she could hear my voice.

“Everything is gonna be okay. I promise you. My ETA is 1:28. That’s in 19 minutes. Are you okay being there for that long or do you want to find somewhere safer?”

I could no longer distinguish the difference between talking to her right now and talking to a victim in distress. I was speaking with the same tone and inflection but feeling a sharp pain in my chest that wasn’t there before.

“I can stay here. Just ... don’t hang up, okay?” The fact that the possibility of me abandoning her over the phone even crossed her mind was more than enough to get me to drive well over the speed limit.

The list of traffic infractions only grew from there because honestly? Screw my safety or anyone else’s. Her’s was the only one that mattered. She was the priority.

She was my priority.

Throughout the entire call, I kept repeating, “You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” Frankly, it was something we both needed to hear.

It was both the fastest and slowest 19 minutes of my life. Time no longer felt real when I finally found the payphone booth that boxed in my troublesome girl. No sooner did I drive up to the sidewalk than I ran out of the car to sprint the short distance to free her from her coop.

“(Y/n)!” I shouted, swinging the door open and throwing caution to the wind in the process. Immediately, she dropped the phone, not even bothering to replace it onto its receiver.

The pouring rain had stripped her of her dignity. Mascara ran down her face in pigmented streams of black. Her curled hair was dampened into strings. But worse of all, it hadn’t washed away the darkening bruises on her skin.

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She cried as she ran into my open arms.

Her body collided with mine in such a gentle manner that I had to wonder how that was possible at all or if it was a figment of my imagination. Was our collision actually that gentle or did it seem that way because of how good it felt to have her arms and legs latch around my entire torso, crossing and connecting somewhere in between?

With one arm under her thighs to hold her up, I pulled her impossibly closer to me by cradling the back of her head with the other hand.

Her small hands found their way into my hair, a new sensation I tried not to indulge in so as not to let my attention stray away from the little life I was holding in my arms.

She was so cold.

Shivering from my warm embrace, her teeth chattered as she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Spencer. You were right I should’ve listened -”

“Shh, it’s okay, (y/n),” I said with the hopes that I could make the pounding heart that was thumping against my shoulder settle down until it reached her standard heart rate of 67 beats per minute.

After a second of just holding her wordlessly, she spoke again.

“I don’t wanna fight.” She surrendered so easily to me that I could hardly believe this was her at all.

“I don’t wanna fight with you either.”

That was entirely true. Fighting with her was the last thing on my mind. The first was getting her into my car.

It was easier that I imagined it would be, but then again, it’s easy to do things when you’re motivated in this way.

Before I loosened my hold on her to shut the passenger door, she squeezed me a little tighter, as if to be absolutely certain this was real and not some cruel dream.

“Thank you,” She hummed into the crook of my neck. From where her shoulder was digging into my throat, I couldn’t exactly respond verbally, so I settled for rubbing my hand up and down her back comfortingly.

“Let’s take you home,” I basically said to myself seeing as it was too quiet to be discernible.

“No,” She shook her head rapidly. “Take me to your apartment.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to go back to the hotel right now. I need to be somewhere I feel safe.”

My apartment is closer than the hotel, I reasoned, pretending it was the logic of it that made my heart swell and not the statement I would fixate on for the entire duration of the ride there.

I need to be somewhere I feel safe.

And that’s wherever I’m with you.

_ _ _

Reader’s POV

Porcelain wall tiles gleamed back at me, mocking my wretched misery. They were much prettier than me, but then again, anything else would be prettier than me right about now.

I certainly wasn’t the belle of the ball in my bare naked state. The fact that I was sitting in a pool of my own washed off dried blood didn’t help either.

I would’ve looked away from the bright white walls, but where else were I to look? Into the pair of eyes that I was deliberately avoiding? The ones that were staring a hole through me right now? No. I couldn’t bear to meet those eyes. So I kept looking forward at the mean walls - those mean, mocking walls.

“Is the water warm enough?” He asked, dipping a finger into the bathwater to test it himself.

I watched as his hand snuck into the tub and swirled around some water, causing soap bubbles to revitalize.

For a reason I didn’t know nor could remember at this given moment, Spencer drove me to his apartment. That memory of why I was here was fuzzy, but the rest following my arrival was more vivid. Perhaps because it was all unfolding right now.

“I think I should go,” I murmured. The bathwater had gone cold, and the silence was too deafening. If I didn’t leave now, then I would be trapped forever.

I leaned forward with my knees still pressed to my chest to protect my modesty while I tugged on the silver drain plug of the tub to release the suction.

“You can’t go home. You’ll be alone again, and who will be there to help you that time?”

“I don’t need anybody’s help.” I responded curtly.

“Then why did you call me tonight?”

“Why did you answer?”

He was stunned by how I didn’t miss a beat with my question, stunned enough to purse his lips in contempt. “Should I have declined your call then? Said ‘no’ instead and let you fend for yourself? You know what - my bad, (y/n). I sincerely apologize that I care about you.”

I scoffed at his factiousness. “No, what you should’ve done is whatever the hell you wanted to do. But clearly, since you said ‘yes’ and came to my rescue like I’m some victim in a case - you wanted to be there. I could chalk that up to you having a hero complex, but I think it’s time for you to admit you just wanted to see me at my worst so you could throw it in my face like you’re doing right now.”

He clenched his jaw in fury, muttering under his breath, “I should’ve left you in that booth.”

This crossed a line, but I was just as ready to cross it, too.

“But I bet you liked saving me. Seeing me as a damsel in distress that you could white knight. You like that, Spence? Does my weakness settle your deep rooted fear of inadequacy in strength?”

Shouldn’t have done that.

For a second there, I was sincerely scared of the response I might’ve just elicited, so I shot up from the tub and grabbed the towel on the rack, quickly wrapping myself in it and avoiding Spencer’s gaze the entire way out of the bathroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Judging from the loudness of his voice, he was right on my heels, following me close behind.

“You’re smart. Figure it out.”

“God, why do you have to be such a pain in the ass? I don’t want to leave you like this.” It never failed to amaze me how he could both show disdain and concern for me in the matter of a sentence.

“Well, you’re not leaving me like this - I’m leaving you like this.” My clever remark angered him more.

Seemingly from out of nowhere, Spencer called out from the end of his hallway, “What are you so scared of?”

Reaching the end of my rapidly fraying rope, I spun around to throw my arms out to my side in just the same defensive manner as he did. “Nothing! Maybe I just don’t wanna be stuck in the apartment of the man who hates me! Can you blame me?”

He ran a hasty hand through his hair, pulling at the strands out of pure irritation. “Why do you keep saying I hate you? How can any of what I’ve done for you tonight suggest that?”

He’d chosen his words carefully and for that, he was smart. His inclusivity of the word ‘tonight’ meant I could only reference his actions from the past few hours, which wouldn’t help my case, as opposed to the months and months that he’d given me the cold shoulder, which would have helped my case. But again, he was smart - he had me in a deadlock. I couldn’t accept defeat, but what could I possibly argue against his point?

My body literally shook from the power of the deep groan that tore through my chest. “God, what do you want from me, Spencer?” I wanted nothing more than to be far, far away from him, but my body was resisting all those urges. Lunging forward, I pointed the sternest index finger at him, staring the most unforgiving glare into his soul. “Tell me - tell me what you want! Because when I was nice to you, you-you treated me like shit. And then when I stopped being nice to you, you still treated me like shit. So what -” I had to laugh to alleviate the sheer rage I was feeling. “What the fuck do you want from me? Because it’s like no matter what I do, it’s just not good enough for you!”

His eyebrows had furrowed and his eyes softened. He didn’t look angry whatsoever. No, he looked hurt.

“Not good enough for me?” He leaned down to my level to look right into my eyes. “You are everything … everything to me.”

With one last breath, I cried out in anguish, “Then why? Why do you hate me so much?”

He gulped back the lump in his throat - the last barrier that kept him from telling the truth.

“I ... I never hated you. I just need to be in control of my thoughts and feelings at all times, otherwise, I feel-I feel like I’m going crazy. Like I’m on the verge of a psychotic break that I’m genetically predisposed to have. But when you came around - I lost all my control. You were inhabiting my dreams, you were stealing my sleep, occupying more and more space in my brain until there was no more room left to take. God, I think about you all the time, and I literally cannot physically stop it. I have no control anymore,” and somehow him saying that sounded something like an ‘I love you.’

“The only thing I could control was how I treated you. I thought being awful to you would get you to despise me enough to make me despise you, too, and while it was easier to be angry at you, it was so much worse having you hate me.”

“I never hated you, Spencer.” Never.

“You should have,” He rasped. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I wish to spend every day proving that I want you. Oh, I want you so bad,” He sharply inhaled through gritted teeth, and I unconsciously laughed in return. His pain wasn’t funny in the least. What was amusing was knowing that he had the same excruciating longing for me that I had for him.

“I don’t want control anymore if it means I can’t have you.”

He leaned in so carefully that I almost didn't register the movement at all. Our hearts were pounding to the same synchronized beat. We were the shore and the tide one in the same. Our breaths would draw in and out, in and out, as he held my face so gently. We were still the shore and the tide, but more than anything we were drowning in the ocean of ourselves. The rising waters of his admiration threatened to flood every empty nook and cranny of the room until it swallowed me whole. All I could feel was him, everywhere, filling absolutely everything.

“Wow ... I finally got you speechless,” The cocky bastard hummed happily, letting his words vibrate on the smallest part of my lip.

“Oh, shut up,” I declared through a smirk I needed to fight off before finally closing that nearly imperceptible gap between us.

All the forces in the world couldn’t tear us apart after we connected. They were no match for the force Spencer’s hands had as they pulled me impossibly closer. The pressure might’ve even been unbearable had it not been for the velvety pair of lips giving me back all the oxygen it stole from my lungs just seconds ago. They were so soft, like freshly washed sheets, like biting into cotton candy, like floating for the first time, feeling utterly weightless in water. It’s sweet, it’s so effortlessly sweet.

Not nearly as sweet as the words that followed our parting.

“Not enough for me?” He repeated, recalling my previous claim. “You’ve had me since the day you walked in, trouble.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

fingers crossed this fic doesn’t flop!

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#spencer reid #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid kiss #fighting fire with fire #juniorgman187 #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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jojotichakorn · 2 years

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Hi, I know you have watching not me.

About Todd, he has done nothing wrong at this point of the story but he seems so suspicious to me.

What type of business is he running, I know he said he took after his dad's affair but he was really vague.

Why are there so many men around him? What if Black discovered something about or hid something, let's say a hard drive with all the proof that can bring him down, things that are very prejudicial for him? That is why he is so insistant on white going after Black's friend. What if he work with tawi because I feel like tawi is our big shark? I don't like him even though he is very hot.

Or maybe I'm reading too much in this.

i feel like not me is exactly the type of show where you need to read into everything. if todd is involved, i definitely don't think he is the big shark - whatever's happened, i don't think it affected him directly, and i think ultimately he is a pawn in a much bigger chess game. i know some people want him to be the unhinged villain, but so far to me he just seems like a rich kid who is trying to play the cool guy in what essentially feels like a game to him.

#not me the series #archer responds #raissa-25

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subwalls · 3 years

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CONFRONTATION. || DreamSMP

An analysis on Ranboo’s January 30th stream, meant to pick apart c!Ranboo’s complex relationship with reality and the voices in his head. This will be broken up into three (3) parts: introduction, stream analysis, and conclusion.

cw unreality, derealization, etc.

INTRODUCTION.

Before we start, I want to make clear that this is just my personal reading of the stream’s events, and as such it may not be the same as yours, and that’s okay! Critical reading is all about how one work can be viewed through a variety of lenses to yield very different conclusions, and the validation of one does not immediately mean all the others are Bad and Wrong.

We all got that? Cool.

Now, a common theory being tossed around at the moment is the idea that the entire stream was a dream (ha) or hallucination. This possibility is somewhat backed up by a few observations I will point out in the rest of this post, but for the sake of seriously dissecting this dream into truths and untruths, I will not be assuming that everything that happened was fake. I’ll delve a little deeper into why this theory doesn’t completely convince me in the conclusion, too.

STREAM ANALYSIS.

Aw yeah, here comes the frame-by-frame analysis of 41 minutes of footage.

... Well, kinda. Let’s start with a play-by-play instead of a frame-by-frame, yeah?

At 2:45 into the stream, Ranboo starts out in the panic room, looking at the “You are fine” sign. He says that Sam told him he can visit Dream (”him”) today, and reflects on the fact that he’s no longer looking for clarity or confrontation (me, looking at the stream title: uh,) but rather to make Dream think about what he did.

“He deserves to know what he did.” (Ranboo at 3:47)

“I’m gonna tell him what those thoughts are.” (Ranboo at 3:55, which is an... interesting remark, seeing as the voice in his head that sounds like Dream has been trying to tell Ranboo what his thoughts are. But it doesn’t mean anything substantial.)

Vibe check so far? REAL. Nothing appears to be out of place in the panic room. Ranboo is nervous but keeping it together and talking himself through it. Sounds great!

After a bit of psyching himself up (and noticeably declaring his memory book to be the only one that hasn’t been tampered with), Ranboo starts towards the prison. He’s scared and doesn’t know why, but he’s gonna do it.

One thing of note is that he passes by Sam Nook’s construction site, and the place’s big map sign thing never quite loads in properly. The whole thing just stays black. Suspicious, but those maps are honestly kinda glitchy at loading in anyway because they’re entities instead of blocks. Or maybe Sam Nook’s doing some prep. (Edit: more likely is that this is a clone of the Dream SMP server for the sake of what they’re about to do to the prison, and it doesn’t have the map plugin, so all the picture maps in the world are broken.)

As the prison comes into view, he continues talking to himself (he’s never been to prison, apparently; he’s been inside Pandora’s Vault before, but not as a prisoner). He thinks about the fact that he could get rid of Dream if he wanted to, but no, he couldn’t.

The prison entrance portal is actually already lit. Ranboo isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do but eventually hits the button.

After quite a bit of waiting, Sam eventually greets him (13:32) and invites him to step into the portal. Ranboo goes through the portal and appears in a warped forest biome.

This is incredibly suspicious. The prison’s nether portal is supposed to be a customized portal in six (6) layers of obsidian that floats over a sea of lava. In fact—and I will come back to fix this if I’m mistaken—I’m pretty sure the portal resides in the fringes of a basalt delta, not a warped forest. You can see a bit of a basalt delta poking over the warped fungi in the distance, but Ranboo is very clearly in the wrong spot.

So why the warped forest, the wrong biome and the wrong portal? It probably has something to do with the fact that Ranboo is part enderman, and enderman live in the warped forest. With the End forbidden and unknown (seeing as Techno and Phil had no idea what an End Portal was), the warped forest is likely the closest thing endermen as a species can call home in the Dream SMP.

Anyway. This is the earliest instance of either a brief hallucination or Ranboo losing his connection to reality altogether.

Ranboo goes through the portal when instructed to by Sam and properly appears in the prison’s interior portal, facing Sam at his warden’s... desk thing. Sam has Mining Fatigue right now, by the way, as seen by the particles. Ranboo is then teleported to Sam (14:20) for some reason (maybe because, behind the scenes, he was in a duped prison portal in order to make the warped forest thing happen), appearing to be inside Sam’s space before he moves back out. They do not acknowledge this.

Sam does the same series of questions to Ranboo that he did to Tommy. Ranboo says that he has not come to the prison before or even spoke to Dream before, and expresses to Sam his desire to bring his memory book along. Sam agrees on the condition that he holds onto it during the way there.

Side note: Ranboo does not get Mining Fatigue until he’s already inside the prison and being questioned. (14:47) This is quite different from the timing when Tommy got Mining Fatigue in his visit, but considering the fact that we don’t know the placement of the elder guardians or even how many there are, this could just be natural variation...

Anyway, Ranboo does the same thing we saw Tommy do with the locker and the examinations and whatever, except that Sam is... more cordial. Nicer. This is vaguely suspicious, but he’s been a little softer since his encounter with the Crimson and he has a clear soft spot for the kids. Tommy also is very different from the clearly nervous Ranboo (Sam points out that Ranboo is nervous later on, around 20:01, so he definitely noticed), so he could have just been being nice to the poor traumatized kid... Or maybe this is just a Sam constructed from Ranboo’s memories of a nice person, and not the real one. It’s not very clear but could be swayed in either direction.

One odd thing—Ranboo took quite a bit to die to the harming potions, and I feel like Tommy died faster, but I’ll have to check. It’s as though Ranboo got Harming I instead of Harming II? Sam even comments that it “took a minute” (19:12). Also, Ranboo loses his levels in this process, so, uh, if his next stream he appears with levels, that means there’s something happening that we ain’t seeing.

A skeleton dies somewhere offscreen lmao.

Ranboo is immediately re-inflicted with Mining Fatigue every time he dies, by the way, so they’re definitely within range of the elder guardians.

Ranboo endures the water section of the trip and it sucked but he seems about the same level of nervous as before, so. Sam takes the time to reassure him and give him the memory book at the last step before the cell itself.

“He [Dream] shouldn’t misbehave, he knows what happens when he does.” (Sam at 25:23, he still got that bit of ruthless warden in him.)

Vibe check again—this prison, physically speaking? Seems real. It’s possible that Ranboo could be drawing on memories from his other self, but considering that he has never been to the prison before, the fact that the prison is the exact same as the real prison that Tommy went to seems to indicate that this is a real experience.

Ranboo’s Mining Fatigue gets refreshed, so looks like the elder guardians reach here too. Dream has the Mining Fatigue particles as soon as he comes into view. (Only pointing this out because it notably took Dream a long time to get Mining Fatigue back when Tommy visited him.)

A weird sound happens at 27:31. Not sure what that’s about.

The lava curtain comes back down, and Ranboo turns around to see Dream. His screen shakes a bit as he turns, which could be anything from lag (there’s a lot of lava moving right now) to nerves (both in-character and out). (Edit: confirmed in the chill stream following that he was just nervous, and feeling his character’s nervousness.) First thing of note, here: the item frame holding the clock on the wall is transparent. This is a texture pack thing, presumably—could be the same thing that fucked up the construction site’s map sign earlier, maybe it’s even just the texture pack that some members of the SMP have installed for the chess thing—but it’s still something to notice.

Dream greets Ranboo with quite a bit of joy and energy, and says it’s not a surprise for Ranboo to visit, and altogether makes numerous implications that he and Ranboo’s other self have been conversing a lot in the times that Ranboo doesn’t remember.

“We’re best friends, right?” (Dream at 28:19, and I better not see any serious remarks about gaslighting here Dream is actually telling the truth, he just has not realized that this Ranboo doesn’t remember their conversations.)

“I’ve probably talked to you more than I’ve talked to anybody on the entire server.” (Dream at 28:27, indignant at Ranboo’s claim that they’ve barely talked, which. Yeah. I mean this whole thing could be a lie or fake but... I don’t know, I’m not convinced.)

Ranboo, whose understanding of his relationship to Dream is very different from Dream’s apparent understanding of their relationship, claims that Dream is just trying to scare him. Dream sounds confused and asks, “Why are you acting different?” (28:45) so he’s definitely not had dealings with this (awake?) Ranboo, but rather the... other set of memories.

“Ooooh.” (Dream at 28:56, which I think marks the moment he realizes that this is the other Ranboo, and it isn’t the one that he normally speaks with.)

Dream continues to say that he’s glad that Ranboo’s come to visit, that Ranboo’s been a great helping hand, and Ranboo immediately accuses him of somehow knowing about the whole panic room situation, and after Ranboo declares that he’s not going to let Dream trick him into thinking that he did those things—

“But you did do those things.” (Voice at 29:36)

Voice is always fake; it’s not “real” (audible by anyone else), and it’s not Dream.

Kudos to cc!Dream, by the way, his tone audibly changes when he switches into Ranboo’s Voice. This, I believe, is the turning point of the stream. The Voice returns, marked by the tone difference from c!Dream and also by the constant referral to Dream in the third person.

Now, here’s the interesting thing. The Voice claims that the reason why it went away is because Dream was put in prison and thus they haven’t been talking as much, which leads to Ranboo forgetting how Dream sounds like and thus robbing Voice of that, well, voice. (29:58) The implication here is that the reason behind Dream’s voice being the Voice of the “other” in Ranboo’s head is because the other just talks to Dream a lot.

Ranboo questions the third person thing, asking if he’s gone insane in prison, and there’s a pause, and then Dream says, “You’re right, you’re right. Yes, yes, there’s not much to do here.” (30:20) The tone shift is a little more subtle here, but the way Dream responded—it’s like he was responding to something else. “Have you gone insane” doesn’t usually lead to “You’re right”, because that’s a question, not a statement.

We’re real again, folks. But only briefly. Actually, it sounds like real Dream has been talking to someone while Ranboo was talking with his Voice, and when Ranboo heard him again, he was mid-conversation. Dream may have been speaking with that other Ranboo and we as the audience and Ranboo simply couldn’t hear.

Dream apparently doesn’t like his clock (30:32), and then prompts Ranboo to see what he’s been writing. In suspiciously good timing, we hear the elder guardian’s curse go off again to refresh Mining Fatigue, and then Dream hands Ranboo a book.

Here, the unreality really sets in.

The book is named Do not read. (30:47) It is a precise copy of Ranboo’s memory book, and when Ranboo checks Dream’s chest full of books, they are all named Do not read. and have the same contents. What appears to be real Dream invites him to look through them, and as Ranboo panics over this, what appears to be the Voice rather than c!Dream tells Ranboo that he needs “to face the truth” (31:18).

Ranboo says the truth is that Dream is a terrible person who hurt others.

The Voice says the truth is that Ranboo helped “me”. (31:35) Now, I can’t tell if this is a slip of the tongue on cc!Dream’s part or on the Voice’s part, but he does correct himself and say “Dream” after, so take that how you will.

At this point, the Dream on the screen’s body language starts to match up with the Voice (moving while it talks), and the Voice claims “I’m not even Dream,” which lines up with its prior claims that it is just another part of Ranboo.

Ranboo tries to rationalize the situation, assuming that the real Dream is speaking right now, but the Voice refers to Ranboos memories in the first person (“I know what I went through because I’m you,” 32:01), reinforces the fact that “you” (Ranboo) use to talk with Dream every day, and the only reason the Voice stopped happening is because he couldn’t picture Dream’s voice after not speaking with him since Dream went to prison.

“He [Dream] would tell you [Ranboo] things to do. You were like his little... servant.” (Voice at 32:24)

Ranboo refuses this, the Voice continues to insist that he did help Dream, Ranboo asks why he doesn’t remember, and Voice says that he does; the Voice remembers, and the Voice is Ranboo.

And then the Voice says, “I’m not even real,” and the Dream on screen vanishes.

We don’t see a logout message on screen, but Ranboo isn’t in f1, so Dream probably either /tp’d somewhere OR switched to spectator mode. Ranboo suddenly gets the Nausea effect, panics and looks at the chest and says that he got rid of the voice, but the obsidian starts falling (gravity applied to the cell, hope they have a backup of the server to rollback to or let themselves use creative lmao) which unveils some details in the Pandora’s Vault inner chamber that I’d love to dissect but not now, and then Ranboo "hits the ground too hard” and dies.

Of note: Ranboo’s death screen is not vanilla. The word “Died” is capitalized where it shouldn’t be, and even though Ranboo lost his levels dying on the way in, his score is 206810. I bet that’s a code for something but I have no idea what for.

(I typed 206810 into my search bar and got a hex code for green. Yeah. Darker than what you’d associate with Dream, but... green.)

And then we have morse code crown and smiley that’s supposed to say “not free yet” or something but apparently there’s other translations because cc!Ranboo might’ve hecked it up a little bit. Oops.

But yeah, there you go! That’s the stream.

Not once does Ranboo press tab, by the way. Something makes me think that that might be because they’re not on the real Dream SMP—also to, you know, avoid having to rebuild the prison.

CONCLUSION.

I do think the prison visit is real at first. Ranboo falls in and out of contact with reality, and the warped forest is definitely fishy, but the layout of the prison is too precisely accurate to be wholeheartedly dreamed up. He’s never been there before, after all, and Sam doesn’t correct him—which could mean that Sam is fake and Ranboo is drawing on those other memories, but we never see Ranboo use memories he doesn’t have, he just acts on emotions and feelings that his other self seems to have.

So, the moments that are “real” are Ranboo walking to the prison, through the prison, and the first part of his talk with Dream. He clips back into reality just in time for Dream to show him a book, which immediately pops Ranboo back into the land of hallucinations, because there’s no way Dream has so many copies of the real memory book when he’s been isolated in his cell this entire time. The warped forest was probably a hallucination born of Ranboo’s enderman (sleepwalking) half being nervous, since Ranboo said he was nervous but couldn’t pinpoint why; it was probably that other side. Still don’t know why he’d be nervous though, when it seems like Dream’s happy to see him.

The room caving in and Dream disappearing are fake. I think it’s symbolic of the other side forcing Ranboo to black out in order to have a conversation with Dream that isn’t being interrupted by the awake self. Who knows where and how Ranboo is going to wake up next time, honestly. Or even if he’ll remember the visit at all.

Oh, and I really doubt this costed a canon life. There’s some very funky implications if it does, but I’ll only get into that if we get a confirmed life lost.

Again, the Voice is not Dream but instead is the side of Ranboo that actually remembers the supposedly “bad” things he did at Dream’s behest. Interestingly, Dream calls them besties, but the Voice sounds almost... scornful and refers to Ranboo as Dream’s little servant. Sure tells you how fucked up c!Dream’s definition of a friend is, huh?

Speaking of c!Dream, here’s an interesting thought: sleepwalking Ranboo only speaks Ender, as shown by his attempts to communicate with Philza. So, assuming that sleepwalking Ranboo is the “other” Ranboo that remembers things, he probably couldn’t have visited the prison, because he couldn’t organize a visit time with Sam, because that would require speaking Player.

However. He used to speak with Dream on a regular basis.

Which means Dream speaks (or at least understands) Ender. This would also explain why the Voice manifests as Dream’s; it’s the only other voice that understands the tongue it uses.

I’ve got a lot of thoughts about Pandora’s Vault because we got a little sneak peek at some of the redstone behind those obsidian walls when the room started caving in, but that’s for later. Hope this was helpful to... I dunno, anyone? I’ll probably come back and add/edit things as needed.

#general thoughts #dream smp #ranboo

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ladyloveandjustice · 3 years

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The Westing Game Chapter 23

Strange Answers

This chapter starts off with an extremely sweet moment, where Flora shows Alice a picture of her late daughter. Rather than make any snide comments out of jealousy like usual, Alice finally seems to grasp the whole situation, saying, “I think I would have liked her, Baba. Rosalie looks like a very happy person. I think she would have been fun to have around.” My heart MELTED.

Another sweet and kind of sad note is that we do get confirmation Angela knows what Alice did for her and that Alice had to convince her not to confess. Alice thinks to herself, “now Angela would have to love her forever”. She would have loved you forever even without this, Al! God, this poor child.

I also like the moment of Judge Ford deciding to come out wearing awesome African fashion, possibly intended as a “screw you” to Westing- wherever he’s watching from. Sandy’s micro-aggression-ridden response just makes me more suspicious of him. Ford generously gives him all of the 10-thou they both receive to help him in his fired state.

(oh, also, I guess it WAS a wax dummy that was at the previous will reading, not Westing’s actual corpse? Somehow I missed that. Whoops. Reading comprehension.)

Meanwhile, the Wexlers have been rekindling their love for each other, which for them apparently means GETTING SMASHED. The tragic fittingness of Grace flat out being unable to recognize Alice …you know, I do hope Grace gets better, for her and her family’s sake, but I also just... want Flora to adopt Alice and Angela (if she wants), that would be the superior ending.

Doc Douchebag seems to have gotten a lot more subdued and generally has been helpful to others lately? It’s weird? I wonder if it’s entirely thanks to Angela ignoring him now, or if something happened we’re not privy to. Anyway, he’s checked out if there are records for plastic surgery on any of the heirs or Otis for Ford, and there are none. He also brings up that Sandy’s face is kind of beat up, which is a detail I forgot. What if Westing didn’t get plastic surgery and HE’S Sandy and Sandy’s face is a result of the accident? I can’t find a description of Sandy’s face even doing a Kindle namesearch to confirm if that’s possible, though…

But lets get to the meat of things. Everyone reveals their guess for Westing’s killer and as well as their new ideas for what their positions in life are, gotta note those!

Jake accidentally put bookie, so I guess he’s being MORE HONEST whether he likes it or not, Sun is still “cook” but she’s actually here this time, at least!, And since these two haven’t really been working on the case, they don’t give an answer other than Sun trying out one of her fave English words, “boom”.

Alice has changed her status to “financier” and her answer is ‘HECK YEAH I PLAYED THE STOCK MARKET AND AM INCREASING MY CAPITAL”, good for you, girl.

Chris is now “ornithologist” courtesy of his brother giving him a fancy title. Denton (since he’s not acting like one right now for the most part, I’ll skip calling him Douchebag) simply put “intern” rather than giving the name of the hospital, does this indicate he’s more humble now and feels less of a need to brag? Or is just that everyone knows by now?

Sweet kid that he is, Chris decides not to accuse anyone despite all previous suspicions. He notes that he’s been given medicine and good things have happened to him since this started (his stammer has gotten noticeably better!) and decides based on that “Westing is a good man” for his answer. I wouldn’t go THAT far, but it seems Chris shares my theory this whole thing might be an attempt at atonement. Denton goes along with it.

Chris also notes Sandy is limping, why?

This time, Ford has simply put down “judge” rather than her fancy complete title. I wonder if she was simply tired of writing the whole thing down, or it this is an indication she no longer feels the need to prove herself to these people. Poor(?) Sandy puts “fired”. Ford chooses not to answer, as part of her “plan”. Mysterious!

Grace has changed from heiress to “restaurateur”, ironically taking on Hoo’s title. Probably also a good sign, she’s happy with the work she’s doing right now and isn’t depending on Westing giving her a windfall. This is reinforced when she drunkenly announces the reopening of the restaurant rather than giving an answer. Hoo has put “inventor” now, showing he gaining confidence in his creations (which seems to be his real passion) again. He says the answer they’ve worked out, “Ed Plum”, rather hilariously making the lawyer put down his own name on the murder suspects list.

Otis didn’t change his answer, but Crow’s is now “mother”, even though she doesn’t remember putting it down. Otis specifically remembers her putting down something different too, so this is definitely Westing manipulating shit (and this confirms Otis isn’t Westing or in on that nasty little trick). Crow decides her answer to the 'who’s the murderer” question is “mother”, showing she now feels responsible for Westing’s death, or just feels the sin of her botched motherhood means she should take the fall regardless.

Doug puts “champ” for his position, aw, he’s so proud, Theo put “writer” this time, showing he’s no longer defining himself as his brother’s caretaker. Theo, despite previously suspecting Otis, chooses not to sell him out after having seen him working at the soup kitchen.

Sydelle and Angela (I already discussed their changes), on the other hand, have no problem fingering Otis for it. They think it’s him based on “purple” being in their clues rather than “amber” waves of grain, buuuut I think this is down to them not having all the clues. After all, “purple” DOES appear in “America the Beautiful”, and I think we’ve gotten only one purple among all the clues that have been revealed, rather than two. Then again, there is that thing of “purple waves” being repeated...

After the clue reveal, Westing’s will specifies that Crow must get the refreshments, which is incredibly suspicious, why her? Alice and Angela do follow her, but I wonder if something happens to them while they’re out that will be important later...or if she’s being set up for something.

But hey, Theo wins the chess game with the invisible opponent that might be Westing! That means…something, I’m sure. Maybe that Westing will be caught, since he made a “careless” move?

At the end of the chapter, the will says “Go directly to the Library, do not pass Go” just so Westing can make it super clear to everyone he’s playing Monopoly like the ultimate capitalist. WHAT WILL THEY FIND THERE?

#this is the last one!#for today!#super long three-for-one special!#nev reads the westing game

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

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All in the Family

Chapter 110: The Hogwarts High Inquisitor

After all the general crashing, smashing, and cursing wore off, it was nice to find themselves in a normal part of the castle such as the staff room. A game of chess had been interrupted by Frank, and all the pieces were yelling at him for it, cloaks were hung over the back of a few chairs, a stack of books anyone would peg to be McGonagall's had been overturned, and Professor Sprout had apparently been in the middle of grading a few assignments upon their entrance. Someone had even been reading the paper, Frank noticed as Alice picked up the copy with today's date. He shooed away a pawn that was still berating him and went over to see it had been covering the book, but as he picked it up he looked sharply at her instead as she gasped loud enough to drown out everybody else's mutterings.

Without prompting she read out Umbridge's new position as Hogwarts High Inquisitor, and just what exactly that was. By the end all of them had a nasty pit in their stomach, and Frank was gripping the book like it had toad slime covering it. She'd only been there one week and already had equal power to the Headmaster? What madness was this?

Sirius watched in disgust as Longbottom read the chapter title as repeat of that stupid self-imposed ruling from the toad, but announced the article was read by Harry himself and was forced to reread it, as they all knew the book wouldn't let them skip. It sounded no better the second time, like a worm digging in one ear and down the throat, but sadly gave Sirius's mind a chance to wander and go back to watching Regulus with deep contemplation.

He was chasing the lost chess pieces around, and finally came up with all the white ones, offering Peter a game, who instantly agreed. He watched the two walk away, that pit in his stomach growing.

Some instinct still wanted to go over there and stop this before it went any farther. Logic told him that these two had ended up being Death Eaters without the others' influence, wouldn't them hanging out just fast forward that process?

Then he watched Regulus laugh again, and Peter actually smiled with a kind of pride Sirius couldn't claim to have ever seen.

This whole experience had gone from weird, to kind of cool, to horrifying, to traumatizing, to now just kind of, common place. The last time he'd thought about dealing with Regulus in any capacity had been ages ago now, the Marauders' own business being blown up and finally settling into an uneasy agreement had pushed his brother far from his mind, but now watching the two, he was kicking himself more than ever for it all.

Even being forced into his company Sirius had never properly reached a hand out to Regulus, as Peter himself had once so eloquently put it. He'd begun thinking of his dorm mates as his brothers by the end of second year, and third year had all but confirmed it by the time Regulus walked into school. Peter had even sort of absently replaced Regulus in his mind, the kid brother he could give shit to but nobody else in the world could. James was his equal now, the first to turn to when he had a problem and always had a good solution. Remus even had Regulus' biting sarcasm that he wouldn't let anyone see but his real friends, otherwise he was the face of cool and calm. He'd finally admit to himself watching them now he could have two baby brothers, right?

"Padfoot?" James hopped up on the table beside him where he'd landed and never moved, watching his line of sight. He tried to hide his unease Sirius was scrutinizing the pair again. If Sirius went off again about trying to get them to stay apart, James had no idea how he could step in and stop any of it. He still found it weird himself, but neither was doing any real harm. If anything, James would have to admit the two always seemed in a better mood hanging out with each other.

"It's not too late for us, right James?" He asked quietly, eyes on Moony now as he went over to the cupboard and rubbed his hand thoughtfully along it. Harry and Ron had once hid inside it and listened to the devastating news of Ginny's death and had saved her life in impossible odds.

"No," James said instantly, even if he still wasn't entirely sure what Sirius was getting at. He, as usual, was watching Evans, sitting by Longbottom's feet with Alice and the two whispering suspiciously as Harry's lessons went through without Umbridge, yet, in History of Magic and Potions, though the later of which was still a miserable experience for all.

She hadn't defended Snivellus in some time now, he'd very pleasantly noted, and in fact as talk turned to OWL grades she hadn't even glanced up at the book through the whole class. Maybe she was finally starting to see the git he was?

Then, as the twins arrived, her eyes flickered to him and away so fast, he'd swear his eyes were playing tricks on him. She still thought he was like them, only a troublemaker and nothing more.

He didn't want to open up his own prank shop though. While a worthy cause he'd invest in, he had other goals and aspirations for his life. He'd walked away from his career advice even nurturing the idea of being an Auror. Surely she'd see that as a good thing?

"We've always made our own future," James said practically, now grinning at Moony who was hovering as close to the three as he dared, clearly very invested in this whole teacher grading outcome. None of them acknowledged him, which in itself was a kindness to the fear-filled looks he was probably expecting. "I say we keep doing that."

"Yeah?" Sirius sounded a bit hopeful now. James grinned as he shook his shoulder for emphasis.

"Yeah. You're a bloody impulsive idiot, and I'd never change that, but maybe next time you lay into them, just, think about how bad you felt last time?" He felt stupid putting it as a question, but it was more than obvious Sirius felt bad for something regarding those two in particular. The list of reasons that could be wasn't exactly short, but when James tore his eyes back away to see Sirius honestly considering his words and eyes back on Regulus and Peter, he put it together with Sirius's reaction to Percy's letter.

Sirius wanted to make amends to the two, and he didn't want it to get ripped up in his face.

He tore his eyes away from their game, Peter was winning, and grinned at him. "And you Prongs? Going to put all that practice of annoying Evans finally sink in and try something else?"

"I might," he said honestly, going in vivid detail in his mind over all the times he'd interacted with her, specifically the ones where she hadn't started calling him an arrogant birk. The ones that stuck out were when he'd stopped trying to make her laugh, oddly enough, but had just talked to her. How strange. "Worth a shot."

The two were interrupted by the book, as Umbridge entered Trelawney's class.

"Bet you a galleon someone's going to walk away from this dead," James said uneasily.

Sirius wasn't taking that bet, this was definitely going to be a horror show. It started out memorable enough for sure, Harry giving Ron the task to analyze his dream about drowning Snape gave everyone a grim laugh, even if Lily would deny any such thing. Then Umbridge started asking some routine questions that quickly devolved into Trelawney's shriek of insolence that she could not See upon command. The spectacle finally ended with Trelawney's dour announcement that Harry was to die, again, and honestly it hadn't been as bad as they thought.

"Can I still get that galleon?" Sirius asked.

"No," James huffed.

Umbridge's own lesson in fact ended up being worse, as it ended with Harry in another detention! James snarled in disgust, his hand itching to go for his wand and suspend this woman up by her ankle and leave her there for eternity if she kept doing this to his kid! Sirius was so outraged he stood up on the desk and began shouting several expletives, while Lily let her face fall into her hands. She couldn't stop herself hearing this, but she couldn't keep watching.

"I can't help but be rather impressed with him," Peter said quietly to Regulus as he watched Sirius's face start turning colors. "A lesser man would have backed down after what Harry went through, this kid's still pushing her."

"Being an idiot about it though," Regulus corrected, also frowning in concern at his brother. "You really think getting detentions would change anything but make her happier? Harry would be better off finding some other way to fight back than bowing down." He preferred the idea of getting in her good graces and destabilizing her from the inside.

"It's not as if the Order is exactly sharing how to do that," Peter disagreed, but he could definitely see Regulus's point. Both of them were very aware that if Umbridge were here now, it would be Sirius and James in those detentions and not them.

"Hopefully someone will come up with a better answer for Harry then," Regulus muttered, or the people listening to this were probably going to break the sound barrier first.

Their game forgotten, the two cringed into their seats until Remus finally came over and convinced Sirius to stop threatening for a few breaths or they'd never hear the end of it. Harry's new Quidditch captain and even McGonagall adding insult to injury was improving no one's mood though.

Still, it was nice to see Sirius's temper lash out at someone else for a change, Peter and Regulus even found themselves smiling a bit as the three's not so quiet mutters of what kind of pranks they'd be doing to that Umbridge filtered in the room.

Lily found herself listening grimly to the lot rather than Umbridge and McGonagall's back and forth. It deeply bothered her she found no ill will for listening in detail to their horrible pranking, but was she any better when she'd just been imagining slipping in a slow-acting poison into her next meal?

At least she'd only been imagining it...right? She warred with herself just how far she'd go to put a stop to this, if her own hand was being cut open, if some little first-year's was. The idea of having children was still above her, but she wouldn't deny she felt protective of Harry enough she wasn't going to stop the Marauders if they got the chance of meeting her any time when they got back.

It didn't make their vile ways of doing these kinds of things to anyone that annoyed them any better, especially Sev, but this was also not the first time she understood why they did it. It scared her just as much as her own wavering answer she realized she was actually starting to understand those idiots.

Frank found that things only continued to get worse as Umbridge followed Harry to his next class, Care of Magical Creatures. When Harry was given yet another detention for defending Hagrid from Malfoy's past stupid mistake, he had to fight the urge to join in with Lily this time as she cursed vividly, though not as loudly as Black started doing all over again.

This was beyond disgusting, his Mum would never stand for this happening in Hogwarts! Then Frank looked miserably at Lily, and glanced sadly at the godfather, and reminded himself Harry didn't have anyone to really go to this with.

When Hermione brought up the subject of them just learning Defense Against the Dark Arts straight from Harry, he and Alice exchanged another terrified look. It was such a singular moment to them, they didn't even register anyone else's reaction, this was their own bubble of worry.

Neither had spoken of it because the book itself hadn't, but what if Neville started getting these detentions as well? Was Harry the only one here? Doing this to him was bad enough they already wished someone would step in, but it seemed a disaster waiting to happen if Neville, Ron, Hermione, those twins, and a host of other students were to join Harry.

Frank still remembered Luna Lovegood and Ernie Macmillan declaring themselves publicly believing Harry, and he fidgeted with unease if Harry would still think he was in the right if those around him started suffering his same punishment.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #HP #OotP #Wolfstar #Jilly #James Potter #Marauders #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Peter Pettigrew #Frank Longbottom #alice Smith #Lily Evans

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witch-and-a-half · 4 years

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playing house

okay so i loved this concept for my first charlie fic but i kind of had to chase the story around? if that makes sense. so it’s a bit longer than i intended and i’m not sure i love it but it was a good first attempt. its also kinda hard to write the weasley’s and i want to get better at it but its such a difficult mix of main and side characters and they all had to be young here too... hopefully i didn’t botch ginny to badly !!!

( i also used this site to figure out how old everybody would be, but its basically just a year before ron starts at hogwarts )

notes: charlie weasley x reader, fluff, no specific house, summer before 7th year

words: 3.1k

- - -

“You’re sure you’ll be fine?” Molly stood in front of the Burrow fireplace, carefully studying you and Charlie. Arthur came down the stairs with a trunk in hand and his favorite cap on. “They can handle it Mollykins. By this time next year, they’ll be finished with school and out on their own, it won’t kill them to get a bit of practice.” He chortled as he came to stand beside his wife.

Molly’s voice raised an octave, “With five young children?”

Arthur just nodded his head in defeat as Charlie spoke, “We’ll be alright, mum, really. It’s barely a weekend, and if there’s an emergency we’ll send for you.” He tightened his arm around you as he spoke. Molly exhaled deeply and her shoulders relaxed.

“Oh alright… but if there is any trouble you let us know!” She waggled her fingers at the two of you and Arthur made eye contact with you before giving a subtle eye roll.

“Of course, Molly. We just want you to have a good trip.” You smiled.

Charlie chuckled, “Yeah Mum, geez. Promise you’ll at least try to relax.”

Molly scoffed before pulling your boyfriend and yourself into a tight hug. Then, she and Arthur took floo powder into their hands and disappeared to a beach house where Charlie had arranged for them to spend the next two days. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t nervous about watching the Weasley clan, but you also knew how proud Charlie was to be giving his mother a much-needed break, and there was something kind of fun about the challenge of wrangling the red-heads.

The green fire in the fireplace had barely dissipated when you heard a scream from upstairs. “Oh, Merlin…” Charlie groaned before heading up the staircase, and you followed close behind. Before you could figure out where the wailing was coming from, one of the twins came racing out of Ron’s bedroom. Charlie swiftly blocked him with his arm and, leaning down, whispered, “You’d better be sat on the couch waiting for us when we come down, or else I’ll have [y/n] give you the leg-lock curse and you won’t be able to move until Mum gets back.” The twelve-year-old looked up at you suspiciously before sprinting down the stairs.

“You won’t really make me curse your little brother, will you?” You raised your brows at Charlie. He shrugged playfully in response, “Depends on if he’s on the couch or not.”

When you opened the door to Ron’s room, half his bed was up in flames and he was cowered in the corner. You were about to start panicking when Charlie groaned and murmured, “Not again…”

“Again?” You cried as Charlie took out his wand to put the fire out. As he did so, you turned your attention to Ron, who was beginning to seem more irritated than scared. “What happened?” You asked gently.

“They’re pyros!” He said spitefully. Ron recovered quite quickly and ran off when Charlie told him the Ginny had been looking for him—which you knew was a lie.

Charlie took your hand and started to head back downstairs. Pausing at the top of the staircase, he turned back and called out, “George! You’d better be in the living room in 30 seconds or else.”

When you got downstairs, you found Fred sitting on the couch. He was eating a box of Bertie Bott’s that he was definitely not supposed to have at 10am, but at least he was on the couch. Percy was standing next to the couch with his arms folded, glowering at his little brother. Charlie pulled you to sit beside him on the loveseat opposite Fred, and you heard George’s feet scurrying down the stairs.

“Oi, so Perce is just here to watch us get in trouble?” Fred said through a mouthful of beans.

“As always,” George mumbled as he sat beside his brother.

Charlie inhaled deeply and you braced yourself for the stern lecture he had prepared, but his voice came out gentler than you’d expected, “For the love of Merlin, will you two please just cool it for a day?” Fred and George’s faces scrunched with suspicion, and Percy looked a bit disappointed that his brothers weren’t being punished satisfactorily. Charlie continued, “If you don’t give us too much trouble, I promise we’ll give you a reward before Mum and Dad get back.”

The twins’ faces lit up at the mention of a reward before they turned to look at each other. They silently deliberated together, and Charlie squeezed your hand. You knew he didn’t have any such thing planned, but his quick thinking was impressive enough.

“Okay.” Fred said slowly, “We won’t deliberately cause any high-impact trouble.”

Charlie chuckled, “That’s all I ask,”

George stood, “But we will be expecting a good prize.”

Giving them a nod, Charlie squeezed your hand again. That’s when you had an idea, “How about you three go practice Quidditch? That way you’ll be prepared for tryouts when school starts.”

Percy didn’t look excited about this, but he dutifully followed the twins out of the house anyway.

“Good one.” Charlie pecked you on the cheek and you rested your head on his shoulder.

After a few moments, you looked up at Charlie, whose hand had found your thigh and was rubbing mindless circles with his thumb. “What prize are you planning for them?” You asked.

Charlie scoffed, “Dunno. We’ll think of something.” You rolled your eyes as he gave you a cheeky grin.

~ ~ ~

Fred, George, and Percy were still in the yard on their broomsticks as the sun began to set. Ron and Ginny were playing Wizarding Chess at the dining table while you and Charlie were making dinner. He was chopping vegetables to roast while you were cooking some chicken on the stovetop.

The silence was a bit eerie, so you asked Charlie one of your favorite questions: “Tell me about your dreams for the future again Charles.”

He chuckled, mostly to himself, before telling you again, “I want to run off and work with dragons. Maybe somewhere far away. Just go and see where Dragonology leads me… or I guess any other work with magical animals… but I’d like dragons.”

You beamed and prepared to ask him to tell you more about dragons—just to hear him drone on about the thing he was most passionate about. But you glanced up at him before you spoke. He was already looking at you when your eyes met his. Charlie wore a bold grin and there was a brightness in his eyes that you adored. For a moment, you just looked at each other contentedly from across the kitchen.

Charlie broke eye contact first. His eyes flicked downwards for a split second as he opened his mouth, but he was staring back into your eyes before he spoke. “And you’re there. With me… if you’d like.”

At first, you thought you were going to cry. Charlie had never said anything like that to you. Sure, you’d been together for a little over a year now and had been friends for years before, but you weren’t quite sure what the plan was for when the two of you graduated. You had a few different ideas of what you wanted to do after Hogwarts—you’d always envied the way Charlie had known what he wanted since before he even started school—and any of your possible plans were flexible enough that you could move or travel with Charlie. The prospect of adventuring with the love of your life was exhilarating. You pictured a little cottage on an animal reserve where you and Charlie could spend every evening making dinner together and chatting about your days. Maybe you could start a garden out front and spend your days off taking little trips to faraway places.

Charlie’s expectant face brought you quickly back down to earth. “Oh,” you exhaled dreamily, “Yes. Of course, I want to be there.”

You swiftly turned off the stovetop before hurrying into Charlie’s outstretched arms. He wrapped them around you tightly, and your head was pressed firmly to his chest. His woodsy cologne enveloped you. Charlie rested his chin on the top of your head and quietly exhaled, “I can’t wait.”

~ ~ ~

Dinner and bedtime was a bit hectic but relatively uneventful. You couldn’t tell if Ron and Ginny were just on their best behavior for you and Charlie or if the twins had told them about the secret reward. When you asked Charlie about it, he just shrugged and said, “I try not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Especially when it comes to this lot.”

Once all the kids were in bed and you had cleaned up from dinner, Charlie sunk into one of the living room chairs, grabbing your hips along the way so you were sat across his lap. “You really want to come run away with me after school ends?” His voice was low and dreamy but tinged slightly with worry.

His one arm was wrapped around your middle, but the other rested in your lap. You wrapped both of your hands around his before responding, “Of course. I’d love nothing more.” Then you pressed a kiss to his cheek and felt him smile under your lips.

“Let’s go to bed,” He whispered and you stood, following him up the stairs to his room.

~ ~ ~

You woke the next morning wrapped in Charlie’s arms. The sun was up and light flooded the window of his room, but Charlie was still snoring lightly. For a minute, you let your mind wander: imagining waking up like this every day. The thought alone made your heart soar. After a while, you whispered, “Psst, Charlie, we should get up.”

He groaned in response and the arm around your back pulled you closer. “Mmm… not yet.” He murmured sleepily. It was so tempting, but then you imagined Fred and George setting the kitchen ablaze making breakfast, so you wriggled out of Charlie’s strong arms. “Suit yourself…” You said, standing.

Charlie’s eyes were still closed but his arms were playfully outstretched, hoping you were still within reach.

“Hm… maybe I’ll just wear one of your shirts to make breakfast…” Charlie’s eyes shot open quick enough to see you grab his shirt off the dresser and dart out his bedroom door.

Charlie groaned again before pulling himself out of bed and following you to the kitchen. You were standing at the sink in his shirt and pajama shorts, filling up the kettle to make tea. He pecked you on the cheek just before reaching into the cupboard above your head. As Charlie made toast, you asked, “Have you thought of a prize for everybody’s good behavior?”

His voice was still heavy with sleep when he responded, “Not sure yet. Maybe we could all go into town for ice cream cones?”

Before you could agree to the idea, Fred, George, and Ron marched into the room chanting, “Ice cream, ice cream, ice cream!” They were still in their pajamas and had messier hair than normal.

“Only if you can keep it together for another couple hours,” Charlie warned as Ron grabbed the toast that Charlie had just finished putting jam on. You giggled at Charlie’s exasperation, which dissipated when he saw your smile.

A few minutes later, Percy and Ginny had joined you all at the table. “We need to de-gnome the garden before Mum and Dad get back and I also think we should probably clean a bit…”

Ron groaned into his glass of milk and Ginny giggled beside him. You caught her eye and gave her a smile that she shyly reciprocated.

“We can split up the work?” You suggested to Charlie, “I can take whoever wants to tidy up inside and you can take the rest outside?”

He nodded. Charlie ended up taking Ron and the twins into the garden to de-gnome, and Percy and Ginny stayed behind to help you make sure everything got put away correctly. After cleaning up the downstairs, Percy agreed to clean the boys’ rooms—including replacing Ron’s charred pillows from the day before—while you helped Ginny with her room and the bathrooms.

You chatted a bit with the youngest Weasley, asking her about the posters on her wall and what sort of things she liked to do. She was still a bit shy around you—maybe she was a little unsure about having another girl in the house—but was warming up quickly. The two of you finished cleaning as Percy changed Ron’s bed sheets, so you turned to Ginny and whispered, “How about we go make lemonade for the boys since we’ve finished first?”

She nodded enthusiastically, “Okay!”

Ron, Charlie, Fred, and George came in—flushed from the warm weather—only a few minutes after Percy finished upstairs. Charlie noticed the lemonade right as he came in, giving you a grateful peck on the cheek. Ginny proudly gave her brothers their glasses of lemonade, and George gave her an appreciative pat on the head. It was a very domestic moment, and, with Charlie’s arm wrapped around your waist and the gaggle of redheads in front of you, there was a sudden pang in your chest. It was as if Charlie could read your mind. He suddenly pulled you slightly toward him and caught your lips with his, which were sweet with lemonade.

“Ach-” One of the twins cried.

“I think we all should get sprinkles for having to witness that,” The other said, with raised brows.

Charlie just rolled his eyes.

Then Ron piped up from the table, “When are we getting ice cream…?”

Ginny’s eyes brightened. Maybe nobody had told her about the ice cream trip.

~ ~ ~

You held Charlie’s hand as you trailed behind the younger kids. The afternoon was warm but not too humid, and the sun shone through the tree branches onto the path ahead. When you reached the town, Charlie led the way to the ice cream parlor. Everyone got to pick out a flavor and a cone before sitting at one of the plastic tables outside to eat. Listening to the Weasley family chat and joke as though you were part of the family made your heart soar. Percy told you about the classes he was taking this year and Ron showed you a Chocolate Frog card he had stuffed in his pocket.

As everyone finished their cones, Fred noticed a store across the street with colorful toys in the window. “Charlie we have to go in there,” He pointed, transfixed on the storefront. Charlie glanced around the table, “Fred, not everybody is done with their ice cream.”

“I don’t mind. I can wait with [y/n].” Ginny took another lick of her ice cream, which was beginning to melt. Charlie caught your eye, noticing the excitement on your face, “Okay, meet us in there when you’re done, Gin.” He stood and walked the boys across the street.

Ginny looked over to you, still licking her cone, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” You smiled.

“Do you love Charlie?” Ginny asked. She was suddenly much bolder now that she’d warmed up to you. The tone of her voice was just casual enough to counterbalance the determination in her eyes. You were almost more taken aback by her tact than by the question itself.

After a moment, you decided to be honest, “Yes, I do love Charlie. Is that okay?”

Ginny seemed satisfied with your answer and gave a sturdy nod, “Okay,” She took a bite of her cone and looked at you intently. You weren’t sure what to say, or if you should say anything at all, but Ginny didn’t seem to mind the silence. She spoke again after a minute, “I like your fingernail polish.”

~ ~ ~

The trek back from town tired everyone out, just in time for Mrs. and Mr. Weasley to return. When they appeared in the fireplace, Ron and Percy were playing some sort of Wizarding card game, Charlie was going over Gryffindor Quidditch plays with the twins, and you were painting Ginny’s nails the same shade of blue you wore. Everyone sprung to their feet to greet Molly and Arthur, and Charlie motioned for you to stand beside him.

“See! They’re all alive,” Arthur exclaimed to his wife, who playfully slapped his chest. She looked at you reassuringly, “I didn’t doubt it!” and starting doling out hugs.

“How was your trip?” Charlie said as his mother wrapped her arms tightly around his middle.

She beamed, “Oh lovely. We sat by the beach, had a nice dinner, and explored the little town…”

Her voice softened as she hugged you, “Thank you so much, dear. Hopefully, they weren’t too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all…” You said earnestly. Charlie finished the sentence for you though, “After the fire everything went swimmingly.”

Molly spun to Fred and George, who were giving Charlie a death glare. “A fire?” She cried, “Oh you two…” But she just shook her head at them.

After Molly and Arthur put their trunks upstairs, they found you and Charlie in the kitchen making dinner. “Oh, you two… have a rest!” Arthur chortled, shooing you away from the stovetop. Molly pulled you aside, but Charlie quickly joined beside you.

“I simply must pay you two for watching everyone,” Molly pulled out a coin purse but Charlie reached out a hand to stop her. “Mum…” His voice was warm, but still held a hint of warning.

“Molly, it was no trouble, really. We wanted to do it.” You cut in. Charlie’s hand wordlessly found yours as you spoke. His warm broad fingers wrapping around yours lovingly.

Mrs. Weasley bit her lip, thinking for a moment. Charlie’s stern gaze made her exhale in resignation. “Alright then… if you’re sure. But I plan on returning the favor for you one day.”

It seemed as though she didn’t realize the weight of her words as she left the kitchen to unpack. Your face flushed and Charlie’s hand tightened around yours. He looked at you with a vague, soft smile and a look that you couldn’t quite read. Before you could say anything, Arthur’s chuckle cut into the silence, “She doesn’t mean anytime soon though.”

Now Charlie’s cheeks were red. He didn't meet your eyes but pulled you outside to sit on the back stoop. Neither of you spoke as you watched the sunset. Charlie’s arm was wrapped firmly around your waist and your head rested on his shoulder. It was fun to think about the future, but, in that moment, you were just grateful for the present.

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rosalind-of-arden · 3 years

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Protecting Santi from Wolfe’s little rebellions

So I’ve been thinking about that handcuff scene in Paper and Fire. You know the one. “Wolfe in chains, Santi acting utterly unlike himself... And the four of them in a locked room.” Very long post below.

tl;dr: Wolfe can get away with “little rebellions” because the Artifex can’t openly arrest or kill him (Thanks Keria and Qualls!). Santi absolutely needs to maintain his image as the loyal and highly skilled soldier everyone thinks he is. If the Curia doubts Santi, Santi is dead. Wolfe needs to be cuffed in this scene to maintain plausible deniability for Santi. He stays that way until Santi is sure neither Jess nor Glain will tell the Curia that Santi is in on any scheming to rescue Thomas.

I already picked at this scene quite a bit back when I did my reread posts, but let’s do it some more, specifically trying to work out what Wolfe and Santi are thinking. Jess, of course, is not at all a reliable source on this. Having Jess as the POV character in his book is a lot like having a chess game as narrated by someone who only barely knows how to play and can’t see half the board.

But there are clues. Let’s start with Ink and Bone, chapter 15. There’s the dramatic reveal of Wolfe’s backstory and the fight that turns physical, yes, but also this little nugget:

“I’m coming,” Santi said. “And don’t argue with me about how you can’t protect me - I know you can’t. It doesn’t matter. I’m coming.”

But wait! Santi is the one always trying to protect Wolfe, not the other way around! Or is he? Let’s look at a couple other data points:

Santi to drunk Wolfe in France: “If you don’t care about your future, think of theirs. Think of mine.”

Wolfe’s journal: “I should leave you, Nic” because “I will make you break your own vows to the Library to save me from myself.” “Leaving you means giving up on a better world.”

Here is what Wolfe is protecting. Not Santi’s physical safety, necessarily, but Santi’s future with the Library. Wolfe is a heretic. His career is shot and at least 2 of the Curia want him dead. Despite that, Santi is a high-ranking military officer in good standing, one the Curia is extremely reluctant to lose, but one who would lose that safe and influential status if the Curia were to decide he is involved in Wolfe’s heresy.

Wolfe and Santi both know that Santi’s job is one of the things keeping them safe. They also know that Santi’s job is their only shot at changing the system from within. Santi has a lot of influence and is high enough in rank to be promoted to the Curia. That makes protecting Santi’s job a priority for Wolfe and Santi.

How do they do that? By making damn sure Santi isn’t seen as complicit in any misbehavior on Wolfe’s part. Santi can look the other way when Wolfe engages in his “little rebellions” because Wolfe can take the fall.

But wait, you say, Wolfe is on thin ice with the Curia, Wolfe can’t get in any more trouble! They’ll kill him! It seems that way, but consider what happens when Wolfe gets caught misbehaving. Keeping Danton around gets Danton killed, but Wolfe himself hears only the same threats he’s been hearing. Similar results from protecting Morgan. And Jess. The kid gets hurt. Wolfe gets more of the usual threats. Wolfe doesn’t necessarily know that Qualls has threatened to leak secrets if Wolfe is imprisoned again. He might not even know how much leverage Keria has to protect him. But he’s certainly worked out that while they’ll try to arrange “accidents”, the Artifex and Archivist won’t take overt action against him. Paradoxically, Wolfe enjoys a certain amount of freedom to be his rebellious self.

So keeping his students’ secrets? Perfectly fine, Santi can say he didn’t know. Going to rescue Thomas from immanent arrest for inventing a printing press? Risky for Wolfe, but potentially survivable if Wolfe goes alone. He’s already survived knowing how to build a press and keeping students’ secrets, so there’s a chance he gets out of this, too. Santi, on the other hand, could very well be killed outright for getting involved in this. Jess doesn’t pick up on it, but I suspect this is why Santi stays outside to guard the door while Jess and Wolfe go into Ptolemy House. If he’s outside, Santi is away from the printing press and can claim not to know about it if he’s caught.

That, and the fact that the Library already snatched the press, are probably the only reasons Santi survives this. Look at how he and Wolfe act when they’re arrested: Wolfe crying, Santi saying it’s worth what happens next. They think they’re going to die. They only live through this because the Artifex and Archivist have no evidence Santi knows about the press.

Now then, on to the handcuff scene. First of all, let’s assume that Wolfe and Santi learn things from Thomas Rescue Attempt #1. We also know that they suspect Thomas is alive, and that Wolfe has already tried recovering memories of the prison. Put this together, and we can conclude that Wolfe and Santi have talked about what to do in a variety of scenarios in which one or the other is caught behaving suspiciously.

Another thing to keep in mind here is that as far as Wolfe and Santi know, both Jess and Glain might be reporting to the Curia. As readers, we know that the Artifex did recruit Jess to spy on Wolfe. It just never went anywhere because Jess was kept away from Wolfe. We’ll also see Captain Feng trying to recruit Glain to Team Archivist/Artifex in the next chapter. Wolfe and Santi know enough about Library politics to have reasons to suspect both kids are compromised.

So look at how the arrest happens. Santi marches in to the rescue, then immediately orders Wolfe arrested. Wolfe is not at all surprised by this. Why? Because he and Santi already talked about this. Maybe this exact scenario, if they had any warning of what was going to happen. (Say, the Artifex coercing Wolfe to go to the training ground, and/or Wolfe plotting to meet Jess.) Maybe they’ve just contemplated similar possibilities. Maybe they calmly planned out tactics, maybe Santi just threw up his hands and yelled “look, if I catch you where you’re not supposed to be I’m going to have to arrest you!” Who knows. Regardless, Wolfe saw it coming and was prepared for it. Look how calm he is in the cuffs. That’s because he’s doing it to protect Santi.

But then there they are in the room with the kids, and this happens:

He lifted his bound wrists silently, and, when Santi shook his head, dropped them back with a heavy clank of metal to the table.

Though he’d brought the chair over, Santi didn’t sit. “You’re still under arrest, Scholar Wolfe,“ he said in a quiet, calm voice that raised the hackles on the back of Jess’s neck. “You’re going to stay what way. You know why.”

Note the nonverbal communication about the cuffs. Wolfe is already convinced Jess and Glain aren’t a threat, so he’s ready to drop the arrest pretense and get out of the cuffs. Santi refuses, and Wolfe accepts that. He doesn’t argue. At most, he passive-aggressively bangs the cuffs on the table. Wolfe understands that Santi isn’t ready to trust the kids yet, and he agrees to go along with it. Santi’s “You know why,” is also a reference to whatever they’ve discussed in advance.

Santi’s outburst after this, and the argument with Wolfe about Wolfe’s risk-taking, are off script, and a very tempting distraction for us as readers. Look, dads fighting, let’s be just like Santi and lose focus of their real objectives in this scene. But notice how Wolfe keeps trying to redirect things. He gets a couple sharp words in, yes, but he doesn’t stick with the argument for long. Instead, he redirects the focus to Glain and Jess. Because that is the actual point here: figuring out whose side Glain and Jess are on and what they’re planning.

Another interesting point: Santi’s warning to Jess about the risk he’s taking in showing them the book. “I’m still an oath-sworn member of the Library High Garda.” Here’s Santi back on track and focused on what he needs to be right now. While the kids remain potential threats, he has to be a good soldier. He can’t let smuggling slide. Or at least, he can’t be caught letting smuggling slide.

Another one: Wolfe does not tell Glain what his invention was. Another layer of plausible deniability. Everyone is safer if no one in that room can say that printing was discussed.

And finally, after much discussion of evidence and the kids repeatedly expressing their determination to rescue Thomas, we get this:

Santi and Wolfe exchanged a look. Wolfe inclined his head a little to the side, with a strange, crooked smile. “You see? They’re as bad as we are.”

“Worse.” Santi sighed. He rose and unlocked Wolfe’s restraints

Here’s that nonverbal communication about the cuffs again. Wolfe is again asking if Santi is ready to trust Jess and Glain. This time, Santi agrees. Two readings here: one, Santi is now convinced that Jess and Glain are firmly on his and Wolfe’s side and no longer a threat. Plenty here that the kids said and did that could have accomplished that. Or, two, Santi has conceded this fight to Wolfe. Whether Santi trusts the kids or not, Wolfe is determined to go forward with this, and Santi is going along with it, just like Thomas Rescue Attempt #1 at the end of Ink and Bone. Either way, there’s no more reason for Santi to play the well-behaved soldier.

Now, purely for speculation, what might the contingency plan have been if Wolfe and Santi decided not to trust the kids? My guess is Santi would turn all of them over to whoever people arrested for fucking with training exercises get sent to. Probably the High Garda commander? This would keep Santi safe: he did the lawful good thing, no evidence to the contrary. Anything he said in that meeting could be passed off as an attempt to draw information out of the suspects. At this point, Wolfe would face some unpleasant mental health consequences, but he would probably get out of the ordeal alive for reasons discussed above. The kids' fate is more up in the air, but Santi is willing to write them off, and if they weren’t trustworthy, Wolfe would be, too.

Anyway, after this, we see Santi continuing to maintain his public image right up until they get to Rome and it’s time for Thomas Rescue Attempt #2: The One That Succeeds. He keeps his distance from the kids. He has Zara and Troll run interference and pass messages. He is very unhappy to see Jess at his door, yet again. To anyone watching, Santi is a good, loyal soldier.

So there it is. The grand theory of the cuffs and Wolfe and Santi’s defensive strategies. Or at least one possible interpretation of things.

#the great library #ink and bone #paper and fire #wolfe/santi #scheming dads #handcuffs

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leechonspeeddial · 3 years

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Midnight Shift: The Serpent at Burger King - A Seduction of Kevins Summary: The Devil comes disguised as everything you want, Alice Cullen comes with fondue fountains and Bugattis. wc: 1.7k Read on ao3

There was one simple lesson I learned from a young age and quickly internalized while living as a Cullen.

Never play chess with a psychic.

You think a mind reader is a problem? No, you just have to add on geographical distance and then you're back on an equal playing field; as long as you keep apart, you can use your best strategies and winning is still possible. A psychic though, there is no distance you can go to be hidden from their sight. Once they get their teeth in you, your odds at winning are – for a lack of a better word – shit. So, as I held Alice's gaze at our local Burger King, I reminded myself this one very important rule.

Never play chess with a psychic.

Too late.

If you did find yourself playing chess with a psychic, the best course of action would be to become irrational and flip the board. You might not win, but neither would they and you'd save yourself the effort. I took a deep breath and assessed the situation. There were currently five humans with ten pairs of working human eyes at the restaurant; flipping the board would be disastrous, either people would die or they'd bear witness to vampiric activity. So that's out of the question, next strat.

Though Alice had gotten used to reading around the blind spots caused by me, she hadn't totally mastered it yet. My best choice was to act without thinking and take over the conversation as much as possible. That, well, that I could manage no problem.

"Well, well, well. What do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Assistant Manager?" I addressed Gay Kevin, hoping to also neutralize Jasper. Mr. Emotional Roofie was another obstacle here, trying to goad my coworkers so that they emotionally overwhelm him was my best shot. "Showing up two hours late to your shift with no warning?"

Gay Kevin looked exhausted.

"Please, not in front of the customers," he sounded embarrassed. Not Kevin snorted and took the interruption as an opportunity to make Milkshake boy his drink and get away from Alice. Meanwhile, Straight Kevin hopped over the counter and directly headed towards the old fries – if we didn't do our duty to eat them, they would be thrown out.

I also took notice of the guy that came in with the Kevins; he was shorter than Gay Kevin but slightly taller than Straight Kevin, he had thick black hair, but more importantly, he carried a video camera with him. He observed us, brown eyes full of amusement, and I sincerely hoped he was a vlogger.

"They aren't customers," I chirped with a predatory smile.

"I am a one though," Milkshake boy frowned. I waved him off.

"You're Not Kevin adjacent. You don't count," Gay Kevin looked increasingly irritated despite Jasper's attempt at giving chill vibes. He crossed his arms.

"So, what's this? You decide to throw a party while I was gone?"

I was about to retort when Alice interrupted me. I glared.

"There IS a party involved, but not here and not right now. Alice Cullen, nice to meet you, I'm –"

"Resentment's sister," Alice scrunched up her nose but nodded.

"Yup! And I came here to personally invite you, other Kevin, and Not Kevin to Nessie's party"

"You said you were born on 9/11," Straight Kevin's said accusingly with a mouth full of fries.

"It's not a birthday party," Alice tried to clarify, only to be drowned out by Not Kevin.

"You were born on 9/11?" I turned to address him and realized he was making Milkshake boy a chocolate shake, ruining all the hard work I put into my performance. Today was definitely not my day.

"I mean, yeah, but not like 9/11 9/11. I'm only 16," Not Kevin nodded but then his eyes widened as a realization seemed to hit him.

"Oh fuck. I forgot that was 20 years ago…"

"I wasn't even born 20 years ago," Straight Kevin added and it seemed to act as a punch to Not Kevin's gut.

"God, you guys are babies. I remember my parents picking me up from kindergarten early and being glued to the news for the rest of the day," Gay Kevin's statement also appeared to have a negative effect on Not Kevin, making him look even more miserable. Camera man looked like there was no place he rather be. Alice, well, she looked endlessly irritated.

"I feel so old" Not Kevin whispered, shell-shocked.

"You are old. What are you, like 50?" Not Kevin glared at me.

"What's 9/11?"

I blinked. Everyone went quiet and stared at Milkshake boy, who looked very confused. No one spoke for a full beat.

"Jack's 19 and, uh, Canadian," Not Kevin shrugged helplessly and said as if that explained everything. He handed the kid his milkshake.

"Hey, I thought there weren't any Oreos –"

"ANYWAY," Alice said loudly and we all looked at her, "it's not a birthday party. It's more like a celebration of Nessie's first job. Our family would love to have all of you for dinner"

"She means that we'd love to have you at the event. Not that we want to eat you for dinner," Jasper added unnecessarily and made me want to face palm. So, I did.

"I wasn't worried about possible cannibalism when she said it, but now I am," Straight Kevin took a wary step away from Jasper. Alice rolled her eyes.

"There will be plenty of free food and you can take as many leftovers as you want with you," Straight Kevin seemed to seriously consider this.

"I'm in," Alice handed him a pink envelope and smiled. Fuck.

Improvise.

"Speaking of customers. We have one right now," I pointed at Camera man, "so we can't deal with you right now," I tried to push Alice out the store but she held her ground.

"I'm also not a customer," he shrugged, "I came for the rats"

Shit.

"Tài…don't do this" Gay Kevin pleaded.

"My hands are tied. I promised my audience," so he was some sort of vlogger. This was admittedly the only good thing that has happened today.

"See, he's not a customer. I can stay," I groaned at Alice's smug tone.

"Technically, you're both loitering. So, neither of you should stay"

"I agree with the Assistant Manager"

Alice and I stared down at each other while Camera man and Gay Kevin had a silent conversation with their eyes. For the next while, the only sounds that could be heard in the restaurant were Straight Kevin loudly chewing, Milkshake boy slurping, and Olivia Rodrigo's drivers license playing on the speakers.

Suddenly, Not Kevin snapped his fingers, drawing our attention to him.

"You know, it occurs to me that since both Kevins are finally here, I can take my break. Come on Jack, I'm taking you home," he quickly made his way around the counter and grabbed Milkshake boy. "I'll make sure to call if I'm somehow two hours late," I smirked at Alice as her eyes narrowed. I greatly encouraged any action that made her look like that.

Milkshake boy tilted his head and didn't let himself be dragged out of the joint. I had half a mind to help Not Kevin.

"But dad said to –"

"Your dad will be ok with this as long as you don't set the house on fire. Again" Milkshake boy frowned.

"It happened once. I said I was sorry"

"Yeah, yeah. Come on bud, time's ticking"

Finally, that seemed to get Milkshake boy moving and heading to the door.

"Don't forget your invite!" Alice called out.

"We're good," Not Kevin responded with a hand on the door and the other pulling the teen along.

"Did I mention there will be a fondue fountain?"

Not Kevin hesitated by the door and I could only feel horror as my stomach dropped. Not Kevin was weak for cheese and cheese related by-products.

"Chocolate or cheese?"

"Both," I held my breath. It wasn't fair, it wasn't fucking fair.

"Shame, I'm on a diet"

"You aren't –"

And they were both gone before Milkshake boy could finish calling out Not Kevin's blatant lie. I fist bumped the air and stuck my tongue out at Alice, fully intending to gloat over this minor victory.

That is, until I saw Alice smiling.

Fucking psychics.

"What's got you so smug," I snarked, hoping to get a hint of whatever vision she just had. She smirked and I could tell she could see right through me. So much for not playing chess with psychic.

"I had a sudden revelation that everything will be alright," her eyes twinkled with mischief and, not for the first time, I was very jealous of Edward. Why the fuck did he get the mind reading powers? Tactile thought projection was so stupid and useless the majority of the time.

"You're so fucking annoying"

"I prefer the term persistent," I'd prefer if she was set on fire. "Which reminds me, hey boys"

Camera man and Gay Kevin stopped doing whatever the hell they were doing and paid attention to Alice, who was holding up one her dumb little pink envelopes.

"What do you say, a chance to eat fancy rich people food and see some fancy rich people cars," Camera man turned to Gay Kevin.

"Babe"

"Is this like, appropriate. Professionally speaking," Gay Kevin scrunched up his nose trying to figure out the etiquette of this weird ass situation.

"I'm more than happy to take you guys on a spin in my brand-new Bugatti"

"Babe"

"Why does this feel like bribery?" Gay Kevin narrowed his eyes at Alice, he seemed incredibly suspicious.

"Because it is," I growled and attempted to set Alice on fire with my stare.

"And I fully admit it. I just want to throw a good party, and guest are a very important part," she stretched out her hand towards Camera man, "think about it, that's all I ask"

Camera man and Gay Kevin shared a look, and Camera man grabbed the envelope. Ugh.

"Wonderful! Remember to R.S.V.P., we'll leave you to it," she waved and grabbed Confederate hubby.

They walked away and I could hear Alice speak, her voice far too low for human ears, but just the right volume for me.

"There's been a change of plans, we're meeting up Esme"

I scowled. I knew it was bait, I knew Alice wanted me to hear her, and it was driving me insane. Why would they need to see Esme? Why would Alice want me to know this?

I fucking hated my life.

#midnight shift #twilight fanfiction #resentment cullen #twilight #alice cullen

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buginateacup · 4 years

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So I finally figured out the best way for me to plot Rings is to write it out like I did before ie like you;re telling a rapid story/juicy gossip which stops me from writing the same scene in different angst/fluff/horny versions

so spoilers for the next few chapters under the cut if you’re interested

So the first night of the honeymoon is...fine. They spend most of it laughing over whatever the fuck was today and agree that staying married is really not an option. Megamind has conveniently forgotten that he agreed to be a superhero and Roxanne winds up laughing in Megamind's arms as he proves that he can in fact dance like Fred Astaire on the balcony of their suite. Its a remarkably fun night all things considered until Roxanne goes to push open the door to what she assumes is the other bedroom of the suite and finds the kind of closet that she's been dreaming of all her life and that means...

There is only one bed. Fuck

Cue panic

And Roxanne getting stuck in her dress

help

But Megamind has also been having just a hint of a breakdown because dancing with Roxanne made him realise that oh no he's in love with his wife and he hasn't wished he was human for a long time (not true) but it does mean that she's probably not going to be okay with tentacles which is the kind of thing you should probably tell a prospective partner BEFORE you marry them so he's going to sleep on the couch far far away from temptation. And Roxanne is an absolute horny mess because she is absolutely hiding her feelings behind her libido but Megamind is being very considerate of not being THAT KIND of villain which means she feels like he doesn't want her and nothing kills desire faster than not being wanted so that’s its own problem.

Except the couch is kind of squeaky because its leather and he can't sleep and eventually Roxanne comes storming out and demands he come to bed so they can both sleep because he's keeping her awake too.

And they do.

Sleep

Just sleep

And wake up tangled together on Friday morning.

That's not awkward at all

That's also the morning they find out they have the suite for the rest of the weekend, which, delightful. Divorce can definitely wait a couple of days while they ruin Wayne's credit rating. There may be a bit of a moment where Megamind catches Roxanne trying on his mantle over her pjs that will either be incredibly angsty or incredibly hot but that that is not part of the plan we're just pretending that didnt happen, or it did and that is how they decide to be married for the weekend (IDK, working on it). In the mean time there are casino heists to plan and chess and scrabble to be played and evening brings Megamind back to bed with Roxanne because its just easier at this point. And when he wakes up because UNFAMILIAR in the middle of the night he plays with Roxanne's hair at her askance for an hour until they both fall asleep.

Roxanne is more than okay with having someone permanently willing to play with her hair on tap as all people should be.

On Saturday Roxanne is awake first and spends some time thinking about how tired Megamind looks and how he should really take some time off and they can go to the beach or something after they get back. This should probably have been a clue about her feelings but hey, leave a girl her river in egypt.

This may or may not be the day she also glues him to the headboard of the bed with the decoupage setting on the de-gun while she has a shower.

Megamind genuinely considers gnawing off his own arm because she didnt quite manage to close the door properly and that is its own kind of torture.

They have a bet about paper airplanes and landing them in the fountain. Megamind wins so Roxanne has to show him a trick (Roxanne is not thinking about that thing she can do with her throat nope not at all) which is how he finds out his wife is a master at throwing cocktails and they get more than a little tipsy and he shows her how to fire the degun which is adorable and a little hot and they wind up slowdancing on the balcony to the Something for Kate cover of When the War is Over because I love that freaking song and I'm very attached to that mental image right now.

The second night, they know its all over by tomorrow and they spend a while talking in bed in the dark which is where I will probably make all of you cry with how lonely being the last one is for Megamind and it breaks Roxanne's heart a little to and they have the kind of thing that you just do not talk about in the light of day because if what happens in vegas stays in vegas then what happens that night is like the what happens in vegas stays in vegas of what happens in vegas stays in vegas.

Look it makes sense in context okay

They also both stay clothed so chill.

Sunday morning brings them to the foyer and its bittersweet and lovely and they just want to hold one another but they CANT because there is a PLAN and of course they shouldn’t stay married but oh shit the divorce desk doesn’t open until 11 and its only ten and their chauffer is waiting for them to take them home so shit, that is an issue but its fine because there's a form you can fill out and they will post you the divorce papers.

So great. They head to the airport and get on the plane and oh look there's yesterdays paper and why is there a photo of their wedding certificate on the front page?

And when was megamind going to tell Roxanne he was becoming a hero?

And Megamind had genuinely forgotten about that. Oops

So it turns out all of Metro City has been waiting for this day for YEARS. The paper is full of happy articles and letters to the editor saying we knew those crazy kids had it in them and Carlos has won a considerable amount of money in the pool and has taken his family to disney world.

And well they cant stay married obviously (can they?) but everyone is clearly expecting them to come home as a couple so sure they can fake it for a while before quietly separating except Megamind is not okay with the idea of Roxanne getting kidnapped by anyone else because no one else will be careful enough. And Roxanne is very unimpressed that the defenders council are trying to replace her with an official damsel. She is staying damsel thank you very much Gerry.

This may also become the fic where Roxanne finally sets up a damsel's union.

So they have a bit of a talk and yep practice kissing is definitely a thing they need to work on

a lot

that moment where the copilot walks in on them is a little embarrasing

but they land and oh look there's a car waiting for them to take them to

The Scott's are throwing them a party after all

So Roxanne gets dressed by Minion for the second time in a week which is where she finds out that "Oh sir was always so worried that if he ever found someone the tentacles would be a dealbreaker"

Tentacles

Huh

Where?

Prehensile or?

Oh for fucks sake Roxanne you dont even know what they're for stop it

No but seriously where are they?

Megamind on the other hand has just found out that Roxanne has a tattoo from Metro Man of all people and there is a very awkward/sexy/funny moment in a butler's pantry where Megamind finds out exactly where Roxanne's tattoo is and Roxanne has it confirmed exactly what those tentacles are for after all.

Great so add that to the list of things we're thinking about like his shoulders and his hands and his eyes instead of our feelings.

Roxanne takes great solace in her libido as it is far easier than arguing with her head or her heart.

Or she would be if she was getting laid.

And SURPRISE this party is not the intimate dinner they were promised but a full on party with Megamind's prison uncles set up on a webcam in a theatre which is a lovely cute scene and Roxanne is definitely getting baby stories out of these men.

Megamind uses her as a human shield. Its force of habit and has nothing to do with how much he's blushing at all.

And they get asked to make a speech and Megamind tells everyone exactly how much he loves his wife and Roxanne is almost in tears because what the hell where was this when it was just the two of them? He cant mean any of this clearly and wow that fucking hurts.

And then Roxanne's great aunt helen shows up because of course family was invited and she is an unpleasant woman at the best of times and Roxanne goes full "Fuck off Helen he's my husband and I love him"

and

shit

she does doesnt she?

Nope straight back to denial on that one. Cannot think about that right now

Because he clearly doesn't feel the same way or he'd have told her personally, not to a crowd of people. And Megamind thinks she was exaggerating because he’s also thinking where was this in vegas? And Roxanne is forcibly reminded she can't be the damsel if she's married to the hero so she is never going to see him again unless its for an interview which means she has to spend the rest of her life chasing him down in the van with fucking hal and ow ow ow

So they leave the party and Megamind drops her home only for Roxanne to find her apartment full of boxes as she is also being kicked out of her apartment as she is no longer acting damsel.

So she grabs a bag and tracks down the lair and oh hi husband can I live with you or not?

Hi wife yes please say (stay forever please stay forever) which is where we get the SECOND there was only one bed because half the lair was demolished in the last big battle and there is no space for another room right now and of course they have to keep sharing a room or Minion will get suspicious

this bed is much smaller than the giant orgy sized one in vegas

good thing they’re already getting used to waking up in one another’s arms

Roxanne does manage to ask for a small room to use as an office because she needs somewhere to cry and she's used to living alone but wow does this feel like moving in...

And that brings us to chapter 6ish?

#Rings #Megamind #fic plotting #give me all the feedback #fic by comittee #because there is no garuantee any of this is going to stay this way #but I needed to get it down #so I could keep writing #I will plot the rest out later #and go to bed at a reasonable hour tonight #ahahahahahahaha #bug is writing a thing

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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years

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Written In The Stars LVII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I’m IN LOVE with this gif -Danny

Words: 3,044

Warnings: None.

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: Love Somebody -Maroon 5

Chapter Sixteen: Buckbeak's Appeal.

Mel had been pacing around the dormitory for five minutes, unable to put into words what she was going through.

She sort of did it, but Hermione didn't understand, how did she know she was falling in love?

"Can you at least tell me what happened?" Hermione stood up in exasperation, interrupting her pacing.

Mel was originally going to say 'I don't know!' but her mouth blurted out something completely different.

"I almost kissed Harry!"

Hermione's frown grew.

"That's it?"

"What do you mean that's it?" She widened her eyes. "That's everything!"

"Mel, if you could see the way you're always ogling at him you'd think you're always trying to kiss him."

"What?! No! Not always– Not ever... Or do I? I mean, sometimes when... and he's so clever... Wait, no! I almost kissed Harry for real, I leaned in to hug him and he turned and I..." She felt the shivers running down her spine. "Our lips sort of touched, but not really..."

Her friend snorted, going back to her seat on the bed.

"What's so funny?" Mel huffed. "I'm in the middle of a crisis and you decide to have a laugh!"

"What'd you want me to say?" Hermione giggled. "Everyone knows you like him, and he likes you back– We're just waiting to see who's the first to give up and say you've got it bad for the other."

"That's the problem, 'Mione," Mel's lip quivered. "I don't know if I want to 'have it bad' for him..."

"Why? He's your best friend, so far one of the most decent boys at school."

"Precisely," Mel sat on her own bed, hiding her face behind both hands. "He's my best friend– What if I'm just confused? What if I ruin a perfectly good friendship because I think there might be something and everything gets complicated–"

"You're overthinking," Hermione moved to sit on her bed, patting her knee lightly. "You and Harry have something special, I think it'd be worth the risks..."

"We're too young!"

"I'm not telling you to ask him to marry you!" Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, we're still children but it wouldn't hurt to talk it out– at least let him know that if he thinks there's a possibility in the future... well, you're more than disposed to try."

Mel hugged her legs close to her chest and sighed. Was she ready to try? She's not even sure she's falling! This could be a new level of platonic appreciation, he's the oldest friend she has, maybe what she's feeling is normal?

Right, wanting to kiss your best friend is a clear sign that you love having him as your best friend.

She shook her head, tired of the uncertainty.

"What if he doesn't want the same?" She asked quietly. "What if then he steps back and then I'm just another of his lovesick fans?"

"You could never be that," Hermione assured her. "Not with the way he talks about you."

"He talks about me?" Mel inquired with the smallest glimmer of hope.

"Yes," The girl smiled. "He rambles– Ron has to shut him up because he could pass a whole hour talking about the new lessons you completed, or that funny thing you told him during lunch... when you're either with Dumbledore or... Erick," The name slipped easier out of her mouth, but still bitter on her tongue.

This could mean many things, but all of them concluded on the same little thought: He thinks about me.

Although this helped her a great deal with her embarrassment, she was incapable of spending time alone with him now, Mel would make up an excuse to walk the other way or Harry would mumble something about forgetting his quill. She didn't know if he was doing it out of kindness, maybe he could sense she was on edge.

Or perhaps, he was just as confused as her.

Harry was the normal amount of talkative with others on the daily, but there wasn't a day where they didn't share inner jokes or spend time ranting about something that annoyed them that day (usually Malfoy). However, after her mistake during the Quidditch final, things simply couldn't move forward with them.

The exams were right around the corner, and the common room was deadly quiet most days, with Fred and George finally deciding to take their studies seriously, the only distraction she had from time to time was Erick. Unfortunately, his friends were almost always accompanying him to the library to study, which had him in an awful mood and unable to join her table. With the arrival of their exams schedules, the realization that Mel was yet to find out how on earth was Hermione taking two tests every hour hit her. She didn't want to explain it to her, which made her terribly suspicious.

"Hermione?" Ron said cautiously, because she was liable to explode when interrupted these days. "Er — are you sure you've copied down these times right?"

"What?" snapped Hermione, picking up the exam schedule and examining it. "Yes, of course I have."

"Is there any point asking how you're going to sit for two exams at once?" said Harry.

"No," said Hermione shortly. "Have either of you seen my copy of Numerology and Gramatica?"

"Oh, yeah, I borrowed it for a bit of bedtime reading," said Ron.

Mel let out a tiny giggle, locking eyes with Harry.

Both kids snapped their heads in opposite directions, clearing their throats and pretending to be busy with something else. Luckily, Hedwig arrived immediately after.

"It's from Hagrid," said Harry, walking towards the window and taking the note his owl was offering to him. "Buckbeak's appeal — it's set for the sixth."

"That's the day we finish our exams," said Hermione.

"And they're coming up here to do it," Harry continued. "Someone from the Ministry of Magic and — and an executioner."

Mel's thoughts of unrequited feelings disappeared, her outrage bigger than her shame.

"They what?!"

"They're bringing the executioner to the appeal! But that sounds as though they've already decided!"

"Yeah, it does," said Harry bitterly.

"They can't!" Ron replied just as angry. "I've spent ages reading up on stuff for him; they can't just ignore it all!"

They were ignoring all, though. The last day of their exams they run into the minister himself, the executioner, and the representative of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. It was endearing and all.

Mel had the feeling that she'd done well enough in all her exams, even Potions. Her favorite was Defense Against the Dark Arts, a whole obstacle thingy– Her uncle made sure to tell her she'd made the full marks of it. She was quite proud of herself.

Their last test was Divination, and she had a jolly time throughout the whole fifteen minutes Trelawney forced her to sit down and stare into a crystal ball, decks of cards, a teacup, and her own hand.

Not.

She stayed around to wait for the boys, but she'd forgotten that their Professor was alternating the names, so instead of being Harry the first one to pass, it was Ron.

They stood there awkwardly for about ten seconds in which Mel pondered what she should do. She could either be a child and run away from her own feelings, or she could move past them and take care of the actual important things they were dealing with, like Buckbeak's trial.

Mel let out a defeated sigh and walked over to her best friend, she leaned on the wall and slid to the floor, tired of not being able to act normal around him.

"Everything'll be all right," Harry tried to cheer her up, sitting down next to her.

"I hope so, it's the first time I see Ron reading thousands of books so passionately," She chuckled lowly. "They still have one last chance."

She looked up and locked eyes with the boy, his stare was just as welcoming as always, even eager, it had been quite a while since they started avoiding each other.

"Glasses," She cleared her throat anxiously. "What I did during the Quidditch final..."

"You don't have–"

"I was euphoric and I acted out of impulse," She pressed on, ignoring him. "I am so sorry for making you uncomfortable– Please don't be upset, I promise it won't happen again."

She braced herself for the impact, hoping to see him visibly sigh and thank her for the apology, maybe even saying that he was afraid she was trying something when he clearly didn't want it.

Harry's chest deflated and his brows knitted together when his mouth opened to speak. He didn't get to talk though, not at first, but when he saw the worried expression on her face he cleared his throat, nodding shortly.

"It's okay, Mellow," He said with a small -was it sad?- smile. "I wasn't upset, just wondering why were you acting so oddly..."

"I thought I had stepped out of boundaries..."

"That must be the first time you care about those," Harry snorted.

Mel let out a tiny laugh, this time more comfortable.

"Shut up," She shook her head. "We're still friends?"

"Always," Harry smiled. "You won't get rid of me that easily, remember?"

Mel smiled, leaning her head on his shoulder and missing the look of mild pain in his eyes.

"Hey," She said, remembering something. "Why was Snape so pissed about the map? What did it do?"

"Why are you asking me about it?"

"Just curious, I've been meaning to ask you for a while now..."

"Well, at first nothing came up, but then words started to appear– they were insults towards Snape, all coming from the people that made the map: Padfoot, Moony, Wormtail, Prongs, Ruddy..."

"Hmm," Mel's eyes narrowed. "I feel like I've heard those before..."

"Fred and George had the map first, maybe they told you about them?" The boy offered.

"Yeah," She yawned.

Harry told them to go once their friend climbed down the stairs. Ron was so eager to start relaxing that he happily obliged, dragging Mel with him. Harry promised to join them after his examination.

"Let's play chess!"

"I'm awful at it," Mel huffed. "You'll win!"

"Gobstones?

"The winner gets to ask whatever they want from Hogsmeade the next time we go?"

They found Hermione in the common room, way more relaxed than before.

"I'm so proud of you!" Mel sat down next to her, giving her the biggest hug.

"I told you I could do it!" Hermione groaned, pushing her away lightly. "I told you!"

"It's different said than done," Mel grinned.

One of the School's owls tapped on the window and she got up to open it, the owl dropped a piece of paper on Ron's lap and left just as soon as it had appeared.

"What does it say?" Mel rushed over to them, reading above Ron's head.

'Lost appeal. They're going to execute at sunset. Nothing you can do. Don't come down. I don't want you to see it

Hagrid.'

"No!" Hermione gasped.

"I can't believe it!" Mel flopped on the armrest, completely devastated. "Poor Buckbeak, poor Hagrid!"

Harry arrived at that moment, he was breathing harshly, for some reason he'd run all the way over to the tower.

"Professor Trelawney," He gasped, "just told me—"

But he stopped once he noticed their expressions.

"Buckbeak lost," Ron sounded deeply affected. "Hagrid's just sent this."

Harry took the note and read quickly, his face fell.

"We've got to go," He said. "He can't just sit there on his own, waiting for the executioner!"

"Sunset, though," Ron looked out the window. "We'd never be allowed... 'specially you, Harry..."

Harry ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

"If we only had the Invisibility Cloak..."

"Where is it?" Hermione asked.

"Under the one-eyed witch– there's a passageway, but if Snape sees me anywhere near there again, I'm in serious trouble."

"That's true, if he sees you..." She quietly got up. "How do you open the witch's hump again?"

"You — you tap it and say, 'Dissendium,' " said Harry. "But —"

Hermione held Mel's wrist and dragged her out of the common room.

"All right– Sure, I'll help," She said with amusement. "Are we seriously going to get Harry's cloak?"

"Shhh!" Hermione replied. "We ought to be with Hagrid, he needs us!"

"Merlin," Mel continued, jumping lightly. "Why so eager to break the rules, Miss Granger?"

"I'm not trying to break anything," She scoffed. "But they have been terribly injust to Hagrid, the least we can do is be there, besides I remember someone telling me I could do both, relax and be the best student?"

"That's true," She grinned. "You're a fast learner."

"Oh, bugger off," Hermione blushed.

Ten minutes later they found themselves standing in front of the witch. Mel kept an eye on the hall for any unwelcomed visitors while Hermione entered the passageway and quietly retrieved the cloak.

"All done?"

"The cloak's safe," Hermione grunted, cleaning the dust off her hands as she stepped out of the statue.

"Cool, let's go!" She turned around only to see Faustus and another Slytherin boy coming their way. "Oh no! – Go back, go back!"

"Look!" She heard an unfamiliar voice say. "It's the nutt-head!"

"And the Know-it-all," Faustus replied with a nasty smirk. "Alone."

"Unlike you, we don't need to be guarded," Mel frowned. "Leave us alone–"

"We don't enjoy the company of scumb," He sneered. "But we got matters to attend with you..."

She heard Hermione gulped next to her, but both girls (tiny compared to the boys' height and size) stood their ground.

"What?"

"You haven't apologized."

"Oh, sod off! Your friend didn't care, you're just looking for an excuse. Now, if that's the best your bird-brain can do, we've more important things to–"

"You're staying," The other boy pulled out his wand.

Mel felt her blood run cold, she had forgotten her wand back in the tower and she wasn't allowed to used wandless magic at all. Hermione raised hers, but against two older Slytherin... they had very slim chances to get out of there unharmed. That, until Erick appeared around the corner the Slytherins had come from.

"Griffin," He frowned, not noticing who were they talking to. "Isn't it a bit late to be tormenting first yea–"

His eyes landed on Mel and Hermione, he stopped four feet behind his housemates. His eyebrows raised ever so lightly, as if his interest had increased, but barely.

"Hello?" He looked at the boys. "Are you guys planning a double date?"

His voice sounded casual and controlled, the other two boys snickered at this.

"We found them here on their own, thought you might appreciate to get a proper apology out of this nut-head's mouth," The boy, who now Mel knew as Griffin, explained.

Erick's eyebrows fell into a frown.

"Apologize?"

"She crashed into you the first day of school, remember?" Faustus made a face. "That Potter tried to fight you because of it."

"If my memory doesn't fail me, he was trying to fight you, not me."

"All the same, we have them cornered!"

"We're standing in the middle of a hall," He stated.

"You want payback or not?" Griffin spat.

"I don't," Erick tilted his head, his frown never leaving his expression. "Are you twelve? I couldn't care less about what a pair of Gryffindor girls did to me by accident months ago."

Faustus' eyes widened, he wasn't expecting that reaction.

"But– She's... She's the Dumbledore girl."

"Yeah, and you're the Gibbon boy," He raised a brow. "Griffin is a Singh boy– I'll say it again, I don't care who she is, I won't risk my Prefect badge just because you're bloody bored, Faustus. Let. Them. Go."

Faustus and Griffin lowered their wands, grumbling and walking past them, pushing harshly on Hermione's shoulder. Mel held her in place.

Erick stayed behind. He seemed to be struggling between asking them if they were fine or just walking away. Mel was about to talk when Griffin yelled from the other side of the hall.

"Flint, what're you doing?"

Erick jumped lightly, his frown increasing as he looked over to the boys.

"Nothing! – Just checking you didn't do anything stupid like hurting the Headmaster's grandaughter!–"

"Niece..." Mel grumbled.

"I know," Erick whispered without looking at her, his frown never disappearing.

He left after that, hurrying to catch up with his housemates. The girls stood there in stunned silence until Mel turned to Hermione.

"Was that enough proof of his loyalty?"

"Please," Hermione huffed, starting to walk towards their tower. "I don't doubt him since our last session– No person would sit for hours and weeks to hear us talk about how muggles' lives just to hurt someone. I'm yet to find out why he needs to know all that, though..."

"You can ask him later, if he trusts you he'll tell you," Mel shrugged. "But see? He's a good boy! He wasn't hiding anything!"

"What about you?" Hermione asked while walking through the tapestry.

"What about me?" She frowned

"I don't worry about Erick's loyalty, but I worry about yours..."

"What?" Mel laughed. "What are you saying?"

"You haven't told Harry about Erick," She retorted. "You promised months ago, but you haven't. You don't trust Erick enough to let him meet Harry, or you don't trust Harry– I don't know which one's worse."

"That's not it," Mel replied calmly, though she could feel her heartbeat racing. "I trust them, I just..."

Hermione didn't pressure her to speak, she waited until they were climbing the stairs towards the Fat Lady.

"They'll get upset– It's been three years, I promised I'd keep our friendship a secret and then I go out of my way to tell you– it's not fair to hide things from my best friend, and it's not fair to talk without Erick's consent either..."

They walked into the common room concluding their discussion, Hermione handed the cloak back to Harry, Ron was beyond amazed.

"Hermione, I don't know what's gotten into you lately! First you hit Malfoy, then you walk out on Professor Trelawney —"

"Best Gryffindor in our year," Mel smirked, putting an arm around her friend's shoulders.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@tiphareth2018 @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @celestialhayi @mikariell95 @omiwashere @thesuitelifeofafangirl @reverse-hxlland @steve-thotgers @kylosleftbuttcheek @tomshollandz

#twoidiots writing #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #harry potter xoc #hermione granger #ron weasley #WITT fic

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bluezey · 3 years

Text

Inside Onward - Wandering Thoughts

So, I gotta confess something, I hit a bit of a wall in the first part of writing this. It explains the wait, and why I think my writing isn’t as strong in the beginning of this. I tried to push through it, cause I don’t want to keep you guys waiting, and I want this thing finished before Soul comes out. BUT, I promise, it gets better about a third of the way in. So, just hold on, and thank you for waiting.

So with that out of the way, let’s do this.

Joy was at the controls, with Disgust standing right beside him. They looked up at the screen at the wide expanse of field in front of Ian, Barley and their dad, as the three of them trekked their way to the next raven statue. Barley pointed the direction the raven pointed, and the three were on their way.

Fear was looking down at his watch, even though their journey began a half hour ago. Still, there was little time with Dad, once they fully resurrect him, that is. Wait, is resurrect the right word? And what if they don’t? What if they don’t succeed? Fear broke his pacing and walked up to the window, gazing across towards Dad Island. No… no, he has to succeed. For Ian. He promised Ian.

A small sniffle broke the silence, causing Fear to jump when he realized it wasn’t him. He darted his gaze around until he caught Sadness sitting behind the couch. In his hands was a blue memory orb, one he kept playing and replaying as he quietly watched. Curiously, Fear approached cautiously, but still felt timid enough to ask, “C-can I sit here?”

Sadness nodded and scooted over, letting Fear sit down. As Fear took his seat, he noticed the image replaying in the memory orb. The memory of Guinevere crashing into the cliff, followed by being buried under the rocks.

Fear let the memory play a few more times, as if the thought still hasn’t sunk into his own head. How could it? He couldn’t believe it actually happened. “Why would Barley do that?” Fear finally spoke up. “He loved that van.”

Sadness let the memory play once more before replying. “He loves Ian.”

“Yeah, b-but he loved that van,” Fear said. “It’s all he ever talked about.”

“Barley talks about a lot of things,” Sadness responded. “Magic, history… Ian… now Ian is magical… and they’re trying to bring back their dad… who was history… and Barley gave up something to make it happen. He didn’t want it to be Ian’s fault that they never saw their dad. He sacrificed Guinevere so they could see their dad…” Sadness’s sniffle turned into a fountain of tears. “It’s just so sad!” he bawled as he flopped onto the floor, letting the memory roll away.

Fear instinctively scrambled to catch the memory before it rolled too far away. As he carried it back to short term memory, he noticed a smudge of purple on the orb. Makes sense, Ian would be shocked to see Barley sacrifice Guinevere. But, he didn’t remember controlling the console at the time. Is he at the controls without even knowing it? He thought he was getting better at this.

“Oh! Looks like we got another raven,” Joy commented, as she allowed Ian to follow Barley that direction.

While quickly placing the memory back on the shelf, Fear went to the console to check up on things.

---

Sadness was drawn to the console soon as he heard the rain. Outside, the weather changed to a downpour, soaking the two brothers as they made their way through the tall grass. Disgust was already at the console, checking on Ian, as well as checking to see if his hair’s okay. Feeling their trek was getting long and boring, Joy was busying himself organizing a box of daydreams, prepping some things to keep Ian occupied as he hiked along in the waist high weeds.

Joy looked up from his work as he felt a tap on his shoulder. “Oh! Hey, Fear. What’s up?” he asked.

Fear backed away nervously, tucking his hands under his arms. “Hey,” he asked innocently, “can we talk?”

“Sure, real quick.” Joy placed the box of daydreams aside and followed Fear away from the console.

“Yeah, real quick.” Fear led Joy to the wall of short term memories before he began to ask, “So, h-have you noticed anything… different?”

“With Ian?” Joy asked. “Well, he has magic powers, for one.”

“Not with Ian. With… me,” Fear quietly admitted.

Joy chuckled. “Oh my, coworker giving the boss a performance review.” Fear exhaled a chuckle, still rather nervous. “I’ve noticed you’re trying. You jump back onto the console, but sometimes you step back and let us help. We’ve all been noticing. Sadness, Disgust.”

“Even Anger?” Fear asked.

Joy faked a smile. “Uh, sure.”

Fear’s face fell. Joy may butter up the truth, but he’s not a good liar. “Guess I can’t change everything.”

“Nah,” Joy shrugged off. “Anger’s stubborn, you know that.”

“Well Sadness and Disgust can tell I’m trying, and so can you,” Fear said, getting worked up. “What do I gotta do to make him see?”

“I dunno,” Joy thought aloud. “Why don’t you go ask him?”

Fear’s eyes grew wide, his nerve curled up at the thought. “Are you crazy? He’ll kill me!”

“Nah, he won’t kill you,” Joy replied. “Hurt you, maybe.”

“That’s just as bad,” Fear replied in fright. “I can’t talk to him.”

“Then how are you gonna change anything without doing anything?” Joy asked.

Fear was about to respond, but stopped. He closed his mouth, unsure how to respond to that.

“We got another raven coming up,” Disgust reported.

Joy’s face lit up. “We’re on the right track! I gotta get back to work, why don’t you at least think about it? We’ll call you if Ian needs to feel scared. I mean, you know rain can become storms like that.”

Fear gasped. “You’re right. And Ian’s walking around with a wooden lightning rod! I gotta-“ Fear immediately ran to the console, but tripped over the box of daydreams Joy placed aside. Sadness and Disgust looked over at Fear, Sadness giving a sigh as Disgust rubbed his sore head.

“Oh, look what happened!” Joy laughed off as he helped Fear pick up the daydreams. Meanwhile, in the back, Anger looked up from the floor, glared daggers at Fear, and stomped away from the core memory holder nestled into the ground.

----

The sun was so high that it was blinding poor Ian as he looked up, wondering why it was so hot all of a sudden. “Strange weather we’re having,” Joy commented as he changed the memory to play another Puddle of Mush song that Ian likes.

Fear was pacing back and forth, worrying the trek was going too long. He looked down at his watch. Six more hours. Six more hours? They’re running out of time! His pacing was stopped as he fell forward onto a table.

“Ugh! Excuse you!” Disgust spat, finishing picking up the star atlases as he glared at Fear.

“My bad,” Fear replied, winded as the side of the table slammed into his stomach. He almost had to peel himself off the table when he caught a bunch of random papers scattered across the table, and a few fluttering in the air from his impact. Trying to help, Fear plucked a few papers from the air, which made Disgust try to snag them from his hands. Noticing, and now curious, Fear uncrumpled a piece that was in his hand. The paper had a bunch of random doodles, most noticeably a drawing of Ian in a wizard robe and holding his staff high. He looked over the table, especially noticing a few drawings of Disgust himself with the wizard’s staff. Fear smiled, taken aback by the cute and sudden surprise. “Disgust.”

Disgust walked off, atlases in hand and a smug pout on his face. “Yeah? So?” he asked defensively.

“No no, this is just surprising,” Fear explained, following Disgust to the book shelves. “I expect Joy to like this magic stuff, maybe Sadness. But, you?”

“So I like magic, big deal?” Disgust spat, shoving the books back on the shelves. “It’s actually not lame. Barley just makes it look and sound lame. Magic is actually cool, and Ian having the gift finally makes him cool.”

“You don’t think Ian is cool?” Fear asked.

“Yeah, I mean no, I mean-“ Disgust groaned in frustration. “We do things we think makes Ian cool. Chess. Space. Math. Yes, they’re cool. But guess what? Not cool enough to have friends.”

“Ian has friends,” Fear replied, still surprised to hear Disgust say these things.

“Yeah, well, not enough that it matters,” Disgust huffed before turning to walk away, arms crossed defiantly.

Fear had to think fast, Disgust was mad and trying to end the conversation. But Disgust likes magic, and Ian can do magic, and if magic is cool… “Wait!” Fear called out, running to stop Disgust from storming off. “What if, next time Ian has to do magic, you try to do it?”

Disgust narrowed his eyes and gave a wry smirk. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” Fear replied. “You said magic is cool, and you want to do magic. So you can help Ian do magic next time.”

Disgust’s face lit up when he realized Fear wasn’t kidding. “You mean it? Yes! I mean, yeah, way cool of you,” Disgust corrected himself, stopping from jumping up and down, then got out a comb and mirror to fix his hair.

Fear gave a smile that was more relieved than anxious. “Yeah, what are friends for?”

“Hmph. That makes two of us. And by two I mean not him.” Disgust motioned to Joy, watching Ian make another turn at another raven statue.

Fear was both confused and nervous. “H-him?”

“Uh, yeah? He was at the controls when Ian lied,” Disgust explained.

“B-but he likes Barley the most out of all of us,” Fear explained. “And the Family core memory is an all yellow happy memory.”

“Yeah? Doesn’t that make it more suspicious?” Disgust simply walked away, wanting nothing more to do with Joy.

That left Fear alone, anxious all over again. He had nothing to be suspicious about Joy, but what if that should make him suspicious? But, why would Joy have Ian lie? And should he trust Joy? Wait, Joy knows all about Fear’s issues of taking over! Well, everyone knows, but Joy knows the most about it. Should he still trust Joy with that, or would Joy use it against him? And if so, for what?

Just then, the song in the memory began to replay. “Okay, let’s try another one,” Joy said aloud as he recalled another memory. The next memory that played was a happy memory playing an all too familiar and all too catchy gum jingle.

Fear rolled his eyes as all of Headquarters groaned. “This again?”

----

Joy and Disgust were at the controls, guiding Ian towards the next raven. Sadness was lying down on the couch, the same couch Fear was sitting behind, looking at Anger. Anger was sitting against a wall reading a science textbook. Fear was sitting there, finger tapping, lip quivering, the words Joy told him repeating through his little mind. Talk to Anger. Talk to Anger? Why can’t he talk to Anger? He had a number of reasons why not, Anger hurting or scaring him being on the top of that list. And now, now Joy could be the liar, using Fear? Could Joy be encouraging Fear to talk to Anger as part of his plan? And what plan?? But only one thing buzzing around in his head right now made sense: how is he going to change anything without doing anything?

Swallowing that knot in his throat back down to his stomach, Fear got up and started to approach Anger. Quietly, slowly, as if approaching a wild animal that was sleeping but could jump and bite at any moment. The closer he got, the more his arms trembled, causing Fear to grip his sides to still them. When Fear was just a few steps close, his quiet stammering voice whispered audibly, “H-hey Anger.”

Anger’s eyes snapped up from the book, glaring at Fear.

That was enough to cause Fear to instantly run around the corner a few feet away from Anger. Fear sat down in a little ball by the corner. He couldn’t leave, then his attempt to talk to Anger would be over. Though everything in Fear would want that ever so much.

A few moments of silence passed. Not exactly silent, as Anger could hear the deep breathing of the fearful Fear round the corner, quick at first, but then slowed, but still frightened. Anger tried to ignore it, digging himself deeper into his book. But a few minutes of deep breathing passed, Anger rolled his eyes, realizing Fear wasn’t going away. “What do you want?”

Fear finally piped up from behind the corner. “N-nothing.”

Anger grumbled as he lowered his book. “You’re here. You want something. Talk.”

Fear’s mind went blank. He didn’t rehearse anything, just had all the random questions in his head. But when the opportunity came for Anger to actually listen, his mind became an empty slate. Fear tucked his hands under his arms, trying to jog his memory. “D-d-do you like me?”

“No.” Anger said bluntly.

“I-I mean,” Fear stammered, “d-d-do you notice any changes?”

“In what?” Anger asked flatly.

“I-In me?”

“No.”

That caused Fear to clam up for a moment. His body was still, he felt the familiar chill run down his spine.

“We done?” Anger asked sharply.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Joy, Sadness and Disgust notice that I’m trying to do better,” Fear clarified. “Why not you?”

“Cause you’re not getting any better,” Anger spat. “You’re still the same, annoying, meddling, aggravating Fear from yesterday.”

“B-but I’m trying to step back, right?” Fear asked. “I’m trying to control myself? I’m giving you guys a chance on the console?”

Anger snorted. “You’re still hogging the controls! You still jump at any chance to make Ian scared!”

“But I’m doing in less, right?”

“But you’re still doing it!”

“I can’t change overnight, Anger!” Fear immediately covered his mouth. He let a few moments pass before nervously continuing, “I’m not going to change overnight, but I can at least do better every day… right?”

No response.

“I mean, that sounds fair, right?” Fear asked again. “You tell me, it’s your job to make sure things are fair.”

Silence.

The quiet was tearing Fear apart. “Well, answer me!” he practically pleaded to the corner, but not bearing to look around it. “What do you want from me?”

A long strain of silence passed before Fear curled his knees up into his chest in defeat. He lowered his head into his arms perched atop his knees and gave a sigh, in both surrender and relief. When he finally looked up, he jumped back when he saw Anger’s feet, then his startled gaze shot up to Anger, glaring down at him.

“I want to know why you’re the emotion who gets to wear that sweater,” Anger almost demanded.

Fear leaned away from Anger’s judgmental stare and pointing finger. The purple emotion clung to his sides, specifically to his sweater, his fingers pressing in deep. Behind his frightened eyes, Fear could recall those years ago, when Ian was eleven and found dad’s old college sweatshirt in one of the boxes mom brought downstairs when she was cleaning out the attic. Once realizing it was his dad’s sweatshirt, Ian immediately claimed it, wanting to keep it. Days later, during one of the train of thought’s visits to Headquarters, Fear found amongst the cargo an exact replica of dad’s sweatshirt, and claimed it with little hesitation. At that current moment, while looking up at Anger, he felt terrified of what Anger was implying, and horrified at what Anger would do to his sweatshirt.

“Hey guys,” Disgust called out from the console, “this raven statue looks different from the others.”

That broke the moment, and Fear scrambled to the console, with Anger walking right behind him. As Anger joined the others, Fear squinted as he took a good look at the raven statue on screen. “It’s pointing down,” he commented, remembering that all the other raven statues were pointing left or right.

“Are we supposed to dig?” Joy thought aloud.

Ian and Barley approached the statue and knelt down to investigate the ground it pointed to. Right below the pointing beak was a bronze disc, almost like a large metal lid covering an entrance. Barley immediately began to try and move the disc, barely getting it to budge, as Ian stared down at the dusty reflection.

Peering through the ages of dust, Fear thought he saw something. He zipped over to the shelves of idea bulbs, grabbed one in particular, zipped back to the console and plugged the bulb into the holder.

“Wait,” Ian whispered, placing his hand on Barley’s shoulder in order to stop him. Ian then wiped away the dust with his hand, in order to clear the reflection in the bronze plate. He leaned a bit one way, in order to get a view of the raven’s beak pointing at a particular carving on the raven’s chest. Curiously, Ian stood up and investigated the carving, only to discover that it was a small slate that easily popped out of the statue once it was pushed inward.

As the slate plopped into Ian’s hand, Barley’s face lit up with surprise and pride. “Oh. See that dad? The apprentice has become the master.”

“Wow,” Joy said, impressed.

“Great call there, Fear,” Disgust congratulated.

Anger simply looked up at Fear suspiciously and asked, “How’d you know that would work?”

“I didn’t,” Fear replied, just as surprised as everyone else.

The brothers investigated the slate, finding carvings on one side. Deciphering the engraving of three wavy lines and an x, Barley thought aloud, “Looks like water.” As if the word water was the magic word, the elf brothers finally caught the sound of a creek nearby.

“Wow, that was lucky,” Joy told the others.

“So, what’s the x mean?” Ian asked.

“On a quest, the x only means one thing,” Barley explained. “We go to the end of the water, and we find that Phoenix gem.”

The emotions were relieved that their quest is almost over, as did Fear, even if he had to look down at his watch. Only six more hours left.

Led with anticipation, thanks to his Joy, Ian went right into the cavern, Barley and Dad right behind him. They didn’t venture far into the cave before the daylight was nearly gone. If they traveled further into the cave, they would be walking into darkness. Fear was already trembling at the thought. He was not scared of the dark, but what could be hiding in the dark.

“Fire spell,” Barley said aloud.

Ian turned, as if Barley just said something out of nowhere. “Huh?”

Barley picked up a stick off the rocky ground, the stick look like it was made to be a torch for this very moment. “Just say, ‘flame infernar.’

Fear reached for the controls, but his nerve perked up a bit as he remembered. “Disgust.” Fear stepped back and turned to Disgust.

Disgust was almost surprised. “You mean me?”

“You wanna try this magic thing,” Fear said, actually taking a step back from the console. “Here’s your chance.”

Disgust looked Fear up and down, seeing if this was some sort of joke. He then approached the console, placed his hands on the controls as he exhaled to calm himself. Disgust wanted to do magic, but he also knows from past experiences this is serious stuff. “Okay, here goes…”

Ian exhaled as he picked up his staff. He held it in front of himself and said the phrase. “Flame infernar.” Almost immediately, a few sparks appeared from around the prongs of the staff, swirled into the air within the prongs, and collected into a blue ball of magic that immediately sparked into a burning flame atop the staff.

Fear smiled and gave a thumbs up. “Great job, Disgust.”

“That’s the way,” Joy cheered.

Disgust brushed some of his curly bangs from his face with a smug smirk on his face. “Yeah, you’re welcome.”

After being in awe of seeing the spell in action, Barley lit the torch with the flame, the fire from the staff transferring over to the top of the torch. As Ian took the torch in hand, the flame lit the area in front of them, revealing some startled, feral unicorns, giving the brothers a threatening hiss.

“EVASIVE ACTION!!” Fear shouted as he dove onto the console.

Ian and Barley both ducked, with Barley clinging to Dad in order to protect him, as the unicorns leaped over them and ran out of the cave. After a brief beat, the two elves opened their eyes, saw that the coast is clear, then exchanged glances at each other, as if seeing if they’re both okay, before pressing onward into the caverns.

“Wow, nice one Fear,” Joy said, helping Fear off the console.

“Yeah, great job. I’m dead serious,” Disgust added, even if his tone still had a bit of snark to it, despite his genuine smile.

Fear brushed the wrinkles out of his sweater as he stood. “Oh, heh, thanks guys,” he said, a nervous tone to his grin.

The two elves trekked further into the cave, the torch lighting the way. Not much time passed, but eventually Barley would pass the time whistling a familiar tune and munching on a bag of cheese curls. Barley even shared a few curls with his brother, all while Ian kept a close watch on what could be up ahead in their journey. The boys briefly paused for a moment when the torch lit up an ancient mural engraved into the stone wall. The grand mural was at least twenty stories both tall and wide, and depicted an elf wizard on a hillside, displaying his magic for a surrounding crowd of centaurs, mermaids and sprites.

“Oooh,” the emotions awed in unison, even Anger was amazed at the vision from the past.

After the brothers finished gazing at the glory of the engraved mural, Ian looked ahead to see the underground stream widen into a small river. Fear’s eyes widened as it appeared this river just kept going on forever. “Oh no, guys… guys, this isn’t good…”

Ian sighed in defeat. “This water could go on for miles,” Ian commented, looking down at his watch, displaying that they only had five hours until sunset. “We don’t have that kind of time.”

Barley turned to his brother as he thought aloud, “If we had something to float on, we could use a velocity spell on it, fly down the tunnel like a magic jet ski.”

Disgust blinked twice in surprise. “Did he just say something smart?”

“I think he did,” Sadness confirmed softly.

“Float on what?” Anger asked with a growl. “There’s nothing here but rocks.”

Fear peered at the screen and admitted, “Anger’s right.”

“There’s not much to float on,” Ian commented, looking around where he stood on the stone ground.

“Remember, on a quest, you’ve got to use what you got,” Barley said, before reaching into his bag of cheese curls. He paused, looking down at the tiny, light, fluffy cheese snack with a wild idea that just might work. “Growth spell!” he exclaimed, holding up the cheese curl triumphantly.

The emotions stepped back. “Growth spell?”

Ian was equally puzzled. “Growth spell?”

“We grow the cheese curl and use it like a cheese boat!” Barley explained excitedly.

Joy jumped up and down with just as much excitement with Barley. “Love it!”

“No way,” Disgust said firmly. “Ian is not climbing onto a puffy cheese product.”

“We don’t really have any other options,” Sadness told Disgust, sadly.

“We’re going to get cheese powder all over Ian,” Disgust complained. “What if it gets in his hair?”

“We’ll wash it out in the river,” Fear commented.

Disgust looked at Fear. “You’re seriously on board with this?”

“Not really,” Fear replied, “but what choice do we have?” Fear placed his hands on the console, but instead of pressing in commands, he turns to Disgust and asks, “Wanna help me focus?”

Disgust raised an eyebrow at Fear, but after a brief moment, stepped up next to him at the console.

“Magnora gantuan!” Ian exclaimed, his wizard staff pointed at the small cheese curl placed on the ground a few feet away. Within seconds, a bright aura of light shot out of the staff, enveloped the tiny cheese curl, grew into a large aura and disappeared, leaving behind a large cheese curl about fifteen feet long. Barley cheered as he pushed the boat into the water, jumping with joy in the shallow edge of the stream as the cheese curl remained afloat. Ian laughed as he realized how ridiculous it looked, but how amazed that it worked! The two boys hopped aboard before the giant cheese curl boat could float away, Dad in Barley’s care and Ian holding his staff and the torch.

“Now say, ‘accelior!’” Barley told Ian, adding valiant emphasis on the magic phrase.

“Oh, right, the velocity spell!” Joy said, reaching over and pressing a button or two on the console.

Ian pointed the wizard staff at the cheese puff and exclaimed, “Accelior!” The giant cheese snack glistened with magic sparkling light before shooting off like a jet ski going at least forty five miles an hour.

“Woo hoo! Way to go, Joy!” Fear exclaimed.

Joy bowed playfully. “Thank you. Thank you.”

Disgust stepped in and took over the console for just a moment, an amused and interested smirk on his face. Curiously, Fear stopped celebrating and asked, “Uhh, what are you doing?”

“This is actually kind of cool,” Ian commented as he sat down on the cheese curl boat with his brother. “So, what other spells do you know?”

“Oh, brace yourself, young mage,” Barley boasted, though mostly it was because of his playful acting. “I know all there is to know of magic.”

Joy bounced on his heels in excitement as the other emotions gathered around. Especially Fear, with wonder and timidness in his eye. New spells? More magic? Are they ready for this? Is Ian ready for this?

Ready or not, it did help the time fly. Barley teaching Ian the proper stance, magic enhancers, tales of wizards and magic artifacts. But finally, he got to the good stuff as he taught Ian a new spell: a fireworks spell. Barley explained that this was a spell for celebration, especially to signal a victory in a quest or battle.

“This will be the first thing dad sees when he fully returns,” Barley said with a big smile.

“I like that idea!” Fear said, the other emotions agreeing as Fear wrote the note down in his little notebook.

Ian stood at the back of the boat, facing away into the empty caverns behind them, pointing his staff outward. “Boombastia!” he said proudly, but only a fizzle of sparks spurt out of the end of the staff.

“Huh? What happened?” Joy asked confused.

“I dunno, did we say it right?” Fear asked.

Barley quickly corrected Ian’s posture by adjusting his elbow. “Remember,” he reminded him with a cheeky tone.

“Of course, the stance.” Disgust pressed a few buttons on the console as Joy reentered the command.

“Boombastia!” Ian exclaimed again. This time the staff shot out a shot of magic that sprung forth like a rocket, bursting into a flurry like an exploding firework lighting up the darkness behind them.

“Woo hoo hoo!” Fear cheered with the other emotions as they celebrated behind the console, cooling from sparkling with the same colored magic as the firework spell. Fear laughed as he caught Joy and reminded him, “oh, careful,” as Joy had Ian jumping for joy on the giant cheese curl.

After their quick celebration, Barley picked up a handful of cheese puff off the top of the boat. “Think fast!” he exclaimed, throwing the ball of cheese powder and processed puff at Ian.

“Look out!” Fear shouted as he leaped forward and slammed his hand on a button.

“Aloft elevar!” Ian proclaimed, catching the orange puff in midair with the levitation’s spell aura. With a flick of his wrists, Ian had the ball flying right back at Barley.

“Nice catch, Fear!” Joy cheered.

“Now that’s good reflexes,” Disgust smirked.

Anger crossed his arms and pouted, looking away from Fear as he grumbled in admittance, “Okay, that was pretty cool.”

Fear gave a nervous chuckle before looking back at the screen, catching sight of Barley munching away on a few handfuls of cheese puff he carved out of their boat.

“Careful how much boat you’re eating there,” Ian chuckled as he sat down beside Barley, “we still got to make it to the end of the tunnel.”

Barley replied with a mouth full of cheese puff, “Good point,” before licking his orange powder covered fingertips clean.

The emotions began to calm down from their celebrating for Ian as they watched Ian’s gaze shift from Barley to their dad sitting on the other side of the cheese puff boat. Ian watched as their Dad silently sat there, brushing one leg against the other lazily, while his non sentient top half just sat there atop his waist. The emotions could hear Dad Island whir to life behind them as Ian thought aloud in wonder “I can’t believe I am this close to actually talking to dad.”

“You know what I’m gonna ask him?” Barley admitted with a grin. “If he ever gave himself a wizard name.”

Ian exhaled a laugh as he asked, “A what?”

“Cause he was into magic,” Barley explained. “A lot of wizards have cool name. Alora the Majestic. Birdar the Fanciful.”

The emotions gave a chuckle, but Fear’s moment was interrupted as he felt something brush up against his back pocket. With a yelp, he turned to catch Disgust ripping out a blank sheet of paper from the back of his notebook, as well as snagging his pen. “I’m gonna need these,” Disgust commented with a smug grin.

Fear grumbled as he snagged his notebook and pen right back and placed them back in his back pocket. Disgust gave a huff right back before stomping off to his own locker to fetch a pen.

Barley added offhandedly, “Ah, it’s just going to be nice to have more than, you know, four memories of him.”

The emotions paused, even Disgust looked over at the screen and returned back to the console. “Did he say four?” Fear asked aloud.

“Nah, I’m sure he said three,” Joy brushed off non chalantly.

“Uh three,” Ian corrected. “You only have three memories.”

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” Barley replied, acting cooly, but his eyes giving away that he’s hiding something.

Sadness caught that. “Hey, guys? I think something’s wrong.” Behind them, Dad Island chimed as it grew brighter.

Ian’s eyes grew wide. “Barley, you have another memory of dad you haven’t told me?”

“Oh, it’s just,” Barley explained, growing a little quieter with every other word, “not one of my favorites.”

That piqued the emotions interest, as well as Ian’s. “What do you mean?” Ian asked.

Barley exhaled a sigh before solemnly removing his beanie. He held the brim of his beanie in his hands before he mustered up the courage to quietly begin. “When dad was sick, I was supposed to go in and… say goodbye to him. But, he was hooked up to all these tubes, and… he didn’t look like himself. And, I got scared… and I didn’t go in.”

Ian was left wide eyed. Speechless. Mainly because his emotions were speechless. They were not expecting that. They were expecting another amazing story about Dad, but instead… they got one shockingly depressing story about Barley. Sadness gave a loud sniffle and wiped his tears with the collar of his red flannel shirt, but was immediately quiet when Barley finished his story with one final note.

“That’s when I decided I was never going to be scared ever again.”

Fear flinched a bit, as that hit him hard. He hardly ever saw Barley scared, and knew Barley never to be scared. But, that’s what did it? And, what of his Fear? His Fear reacted correctly, right? Protecting his Barley from something scary, right? But, no. It was a mistake. His Fear protected Barley from something scary… but it cost him saying goodbye to his dad. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what his Fear must have felt for making such a grave mistake… because it made Fear terrified if he could, or had, made such a mistake.

Before Fear could dwell any further, Barley cleared his throat. “Looks like we’re coming up on something,” he said, changing the subject to the quest as he put his beanie back on.

As Ian’s attention shifted back to the quest, he looked around to find their boat had slowed to a gentle float, and no longer in a cavern, but a large catacomb lined with statues of revered wizards of yore. The boat drifted to a stop on the gravel shore, ahead was a stone archway into a mysterious dungeon.

Barley stared the unwelcoming entrance down. “The final gauntlet.”

Fear gulped.

#pixar onward #pixar inside out #joy #sadness #anger #disgust #fear #sir iandore of lightfoot #ian lightfoot #barley lightfoot

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