#i really miss the people and the asks and the multi-part fics we all had going on

[obwjam]

i saw guardians 3 the other night and man… my interest in the MCU just took an absolute nosedive after no way home but now i’m feeling so nostalgic for the old marvel g/t days man we really peaked then

#like i spent an hour scrolling through the marvel g/t tag #an absolute trip down memory lane #that time in my life was personally not the best but god i did so much comfort writing #and now i’m just nostalgic for pre-endgame marvel lol #we as a g/t society on tumblr dot com were at the HEIGHT during that big marvel summer #i really miss the people and the asks and the multi-part fics we all had going on #okay sorry that’s enough sobbing from me lmao

[keeponquinning]

Yes, Professor — Part One of Three.

Joseph Quinn x Erotica Novelist Fem!Reader. 18+

Word Count — 4.6k

Summary — slightly based on this, but mainly. You're Joseph's secret writer girlfriend who you met amidst the start of his convention tours, things are hot and heavy between you two, though strained for the inconvenience of not living in the same city and not being official. You're forced to spend a week apart but plan to meet up with him back in London on the last day of his Con appearance, and after teasing him for his Professor type choice of outfits, well, you just couldn't resist showing up dressed as your professor's favorite student, now could you? We thought not.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Part One — He's in London, you? Are not. In a party for you best friend's boyfriend, you manage to get him in a call, hearing his voice, laughing, conversations wishing to see his face, but you can take what you can get.

Preview —

Warnings — Not too many, nothing really smutty happens this part, maybe some dirty talk. Established relationship, it is a big ol' RPF and my first attempt. If not your thing, that's valid AF, just don't be mean / a dick about it. I am but a drop in this massive ocean called Tumblr, just swim on past and enjoy the waves without me if it bothers, I beg. There's also cursing. 18+ so minors, PLEASE, DNI!

Notes — Oh, this came out sooner than my last one, huh?? Mainly because I decided to split this into three parts instead of one big ol' one shot. I def learned my lesson lmao I had a lot of fun writing this, dialogue and banter are my fave things and there was a lot of that in this. Kinda fell in love with these two and planning on doing an actual multi-chaptered fic with them, how they met, all that jazz, let me know if it's something you'd want. Or not, if I get just one person like "yes, please" I'll do it bc people pleasing tendencies fuel me. I've left Reader pretty vague and ambiguous but we do have her mentioning Joseph's British-ness and obviously not living in the same continent because transatlantic romance is so rom com it hurts, but, feel free to ignore that and implant your own background on her, kinda the point, right?? Alright, hope you like this! Like, Reblog and Comment, they fuel me and make my heart go pitter patter!

Taglist — @lunaapis , @munsons-mayhem28 , @inourtownofhawkins , @hopperscock ( i fucking love this url you have no idea )

"What are you wearing?"

You hear an amused chuckle on the other end of the call, along with a distinct clicking of tongue. "...don't I get a hello first or are you missing me that much?"

A snort comes out your way, totally undignified, but he'd never call you out on it. "I mean, I am, but... Shut up." He's cackling now, that laugh that makes you smile stupidly and you're glad you're on an audio call rather than face time — though you wouldn't mind seeing his stupidly pretty face. "I'm serious, what are you wearing?"

"Why are you asking?" his voice strained, amused, but strained. He must be smiling, his laughter barely dying down.

Taking a deep breath, you explain, "Because I haven't seen you in a week and from the photos I've been seeing of you all day today... I need to prepare myself for when I see you tomorrow."

"I need you to repeat that, not the nonsense about my clothes but the...seeing me tomorrow bit."

Your eyes closed, lips stretching in a smile that, in the crowded room you were in the middle of, you tried to suppress. Teeth biting your lip, eyes cautiously looking around the party you were attending but your mind being on a man across the pond as it were, you let out a soft scoff. "....I need to prepare myself for when I see you tomorrow."

"Damn fucking right you will," his voice low, almost a growl that was...unfortunate, considering your surroundings. But more important, his tone was wistful. You heard the sound of gentle squeak, taking to mean that he sat on his bed, one that you missed very much at the moment. "I can't wait for that, and you will be needing to prepare yourself once we're alone... I fucking miss you."

"Mmm, your voice notes kinda gave that impression, yeah," you chuckled, hearing his as well. "Though I enjoyed hearing them when I wake up. It's lame, but, I do miss hearing your voice first thing in the morning." You hear him take a deep breath, exhaling with a soft hum. "Among other things. Hotel beds are just a bit too cold without you."

"Mhm, feeling the same way with my own bed, darling. Have to remind myself it's just been a week, but, feels a bit longer. Can't wait to have you back, though I know, temporarily."

"I know," this time it was you that sounded wistful. You knew you shouldn't, it was a good reason you'd be away from him. The latest in your book series was out there, digitally and in a week, in physical form. The gap between that and the previous book a bit too wide for your liking, or that of your publisher and readers. It was good that you finally finished it, but in that, included a tour of the book, which meant away from him, your sort of boyfriend. "At least you'll have me for a week, well, between your filming, anyway. Enough time for your friends to get sick of me and then wish I went away to have you to themselves again and for my friends to miss the me that isn't attached to your hip."

"Hah," he scoffed, a sound of a stretch that you could only assume was him laying down on his bed. "My friends are sick of me now, keep complaining about how I miss you. Even have Wes saying if I'm this needy without you, can't imagine how you handle me by your side, so, you've somehow got their sympathy and on your side, I'm the problem now, apparently." You couldn't hold in the laugh that barked its way out of you, and you could hear the offense even from the other line. "Oi. Don't laugh, you knew I was needy from the get go, I made no attempt to hide that."

Recovering from the laugh, you have a nod, though you knew he couldn't see, "Yeah, you are a bit of a clinger." Your smile still lingering, eyes soft, "But... It's...kinda one of your more endearing qualities, so... I'll take it."

"Oh, how gracious of you, accepting that I fucking adore you to the point of being miserable enough without you and getting on my friends fucking nerves"

He always made you laugh, you didn't even know if he intended to, but you could hear him laughing alongside you, so he must have, right? "God, hearing you curse is the best, y'know? You seem like a nice, proper boy, but then you curse and it..." You shake your head, "Makes me miss you more."

You heard him scoff, a wet sound, and you could almost see him licking his lips with a smile. "I know, dead sexy and all that... Hard to resist."

A shrug of your shoulders, more to yourself, of course, "...it kinda is. Makes me wanna do things to you to make you curse more..."

He groaned, which was also a lovely noise on its own. "Don't say things like that when you're not in grabbing distance, it's not fair."

You smiled, almost wickedly, eyes catching sight of your best friend, the only reason you were away from him at the moment. "Yeah, well, at least you're alone on your bed, I'm surrounded by people in my pretty dress, not getting grabbed and kissed by you and..." you trailed off as said best friend stopped in front of you, a pointed brow arched. You cleared your throat, smile still in place, "Which is totally fine, because I'm here to support my best friend and her crazy talented boyfriend on his birthday and album release and I'm totally fine with it."

"Mhm," she let out with a nod, "What I thought. Hi, Joe, can you two say goodbye because said boyfriend is gonna start up in a few minutes and I will not have you two have phone sex while he's performing, thank you."

"Excuse me!"

"You're not excused! You're so not excused — you're not allowed."

"That's just—" you were about to say rude when you very clearly hear the cackling on the other end of your call. "Stop laughing! You're not allowed to laugh right now, that's not fair."

"I'm sorry!" he let out, his voice thin, high, and you could hear an attempt to calm the laughter — but an attempt he did not win as more laughter came rolling out, making your lips twist and wanting to laugh despite yourself. Why did his laugh have to be so infectious sometimes? "I'll stop, I swear..." he continued, making you roll your eyes, looking at the smirking face of your best friend. "....oh, god... Tell Jen I said hello."

You couldn't help but let out a soft laugh, looking over at her, "The painfully British one says hello, because manners maketh the man I'm sure."

Jen cackled as well, shaking her head, "I'll give you two like, ten minutes, tops. You're introducing them, remember?"

"Of course. Ten minutes." A mock salute given, you watch as she turned toward the stage of the intimate venue, just a smaller group of closest friends. Taking a deep breath, directing your attention to your phone, "J o e."

"Oh, no, not Joe. I'm always in trouble when I get Joe instead of your usual Joseph."

"Damn right, that was not cool, I know we're not official, but, you have to have my back. It's the most chivalrous thing to do."

He snickered, "I'm... I'm sorry, I'm sorry! But, well," you heard him release a soft laugh, then heard, "...not to point fingers but you did start the conversation asking me what I was wearing... So was that...not where this was heading...?"

You clicked your tongue off the roof of your mouth very disappointingly, kind of. "No, you perv, I just wanted to know if my sort of boyfriend is going to continue dressing up as a slutty professor so I can figure out how to handle seeing that in person."

"I—" he started, but words cut off with a snicker, and then a proper laugh. "You—Okay. Several things. Don't fucking call me your sort of boyfriend. I am your boyfriend, just.... Well. Secret boyfriend. At least for now—"

"—until your publicist deems me worthy of being known to be dating you."

"No, just... Until we're more established, is all. And I am looking forward to that, taking you to events and such. I'd love to go to the book tour with you, show off how fucking proud I am of you and this book. But... I also don't want to overshadow your accomplishment, the way it's so mad right now. But I am your boyfriend, I know you say it in a joking manner with Jen and our friends, I get it, but... And it's fine to joke about it. Really. But I need you to know it's real for me and I hope it is for you, too. It... It is, isn't it?"

You smiled softly, his words warming your heart more than they should, once again blown away by his sense of sincerity. You never really dated anyone like that before and sometimes, it honestly takes you by surprise. "... Yeah, I know. And I don't mind it, honestly. I'd end things if I did... You're my boyfriend and I'm your girlfriend and...if my joking around hurt you in any way, then I'm sorry, you know I don't mean it. Not with something like this. You...mean a lot to me in a very short amount of time and...it's kind of overwhelming sometimes."

There was a soft sigh, a pleased one, from the other end of the call. "I know. I feel the same. Was never expecting you, or anyone, not like this. And no, you didn't hurt me, not one bit. There's no worry of that. I just needed you to know, I'm in this with you."

Though you certainly didn't need to hear it, there's a lightness from within your chest at his words, a light ease in your breathing and your soft smile grew wide. You didn't need him to confirm what you already knew, but, it was lovely to hear. "Me too. I'm in this, too. Especially if you're going to be sweet like that," you end with a light chuckle, joined by his own. "Not fair on your part. But, I'll let it pass."

"My girlfriend is very gracious like that, I'm so lucky to have her."

"Don't you forget it. Okay. I'm assuming you had more to say?"

"Yes, thank you for that. Was quickly getting side tracked... I just wanted it to be known that I am severely disappointed that phone sex is off the table, that broke my heart since we've been in an almost constant state of phone tag, its ridiculous," you giggled at that, actually giggled which was rare. And he knew it, you could hear his chuckle, and though you couldn't see him, you knew he was pleased with that smug little smirk on his lips. "But, I'll survive that. Also. Slutty professor? I've no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, come on. You dress like a romantic, slutty professor to these things and you know it."

"I think someone's too far into their own erotica stories and confusing some things, I... Dress as a professional. I have to. My stylist deems it so and I just...do as I'm told."

"...Joseph. What were you wearing today, and don't lie, I've seen the pictures. I just wanna hear you say it."

"You're being absolutely ridiculous, I... My loafers, my favorite ones, trousers, erm... Blue button shirt and... Well, a cardigan..." There was a pause, and you knew he was rethinking it all. "...beige cardigan and.....my dark grey...coat—okay. Maybe... Maybe it was a bit professor-ish. You...might be on to something there..."

"Uh-huh. Dressed like a professor who cares and has long office hours for any of his students to come by to unwind..."

"Stop that," he let out with a laugh. "That should be your next book."

"Oh, who says it won't be? I'll dedicate it to you, for inspiration. I'm assuming you'd be open for me to come to you for...brainstorming? Test out scenes, just, y'know, for the sake of art and authenticity?"

"Morning, noon and night, yes, I'm all yours and your....creativity." He chuckled, softly, there was a lingering silence between the two of you, and then a groan from his end. "Just out of curiosity... Would... I dunno, say...a sweater vest, erm... Like....Oof, a grey one with a dark jacket, that um... Is that slutty professor chic, you think?"

"I fucking knew it."

"Hold on! It was... It was a thought... Are you into the slutty professor look, though?"

"Why do you think I called you in the first place? Yes, of course I'm into it. Do you know what it's like, seeing your pics all over my social media, people sending me pics of you with that cardigan and long coat and just... Do you?"

You could almost hear his smug smile as he let out an even soft chuckle. "I do, actually... You're wearing that burgundy dress aren't you?" Your brows rose, though you didn't say anything, not yet. A soft little hum buzzing into your ear through your phone. "I've been stalking your instagram the past week, so I saw the picture you posted today. It's that burgundy dress I like. The one with the bow at the hip and the... The matching choker with the jewelry that you think is almost tacky but... I like it. Gave me something to look at the other time you wore it, remember that? Was it New Years? Took you to an empty room right before countdown, lifted your skirt and—"

"S t o p, we're not doing that, not now," though you smiled, remembering the moment quite clearly, feeling your skin flush especially as he laughed then. He had such a nice, deep, warm laugh sometimes. "...okay, so, yes, I'm wearing that dress... It's not the same, though, like, aside from that choker you love so much, it's pretty tame in comparison..."

"Mm, not for me. I love that color on you. I love anything on you if it means I can take it off of you. And—a cardigan's tame. A long coat is tame."

"The hell a long coat is tame, that's... Anyway, you wear the slutty professor really well and it's not fair. Especially if you're going to to do tomorrow. After being away from you a week... That's cruel, baby. I won't even be able to touch you until the con's over." You heard him hum, probably thinking the very same. A thought comes, making you chuckle suddenly, "I should retaliate."

"...oh god," he let out, clearly recognizing when a wicked thought comes to mind. "Pray tell, how?"

"Why... Professor..."

"....Oh, fuck."

"Yup. By dressing up as one of your favorite students, of course."

"....jesus fucking christ." You heard a small groan, "God, you would, wouldn't you? I don't know if I could take that. It's been a week, body going in withdrawal without you and the sight of you with knee high socks..."

"Hmm. Telling that the knee high is the first thing you go to. Noted."

He chuckled, "Yes, well... The thought of you in knee highs is rather... I wouldn't take them off. Not the entire time."

Your smile widened, biting your bottom lip. "Yeah? Mmm. Well, good, because I'd definitely wear your favorite colors, just for you, Professor."

"Fuck off," he said softly, though, and when you laughed, you heard him let out a breath. "Shit. I can't shake the image, now. My favorite student, dressed so pretty for me. Looking nice and soft...with uh..." He exhaled, "Burgundy knee highs, snug and soft..."

You kept a careful eye around you, trying so hard to suppress your smile. But the sound of his voice was so...alluring, finding yourself squeezing your thighs a little bit. "Keeping up with the color theme, I see..."

"It is my favorite color at the moment, especially on you."

You hummed, "Okay. Question, knee highs or thigh highs?"

"No," his voice instant, "Gotta be the knee highs. I'd want... I'd want your thighs absolutely bare. For my fingers to run and roam over the skin... And...then, y'know... I wouldn't be able to resist to kiss you there as well. Gentle ones of course, but, being away from you this time...wouldn't be long until I start biting..."

A breathless laugh escapes you, now not even caring if anyone looked or listened in on you. It had been a while since you talked to him in real time, without having to push play, it was too good to cut away from. "For someone that says they can't write for the life of them, you're not doing too bad, Professor. You might give a run for my money if you ever decide to go into the erotica business."

"Mmm, tempting, but no. I'll leave that to you. It'd just be a novel of me fucking you and I'd rather have the real thing. But... Was I good enough to get you wet for me, darling?"

It shouldn't make you blush, you built your whole career in literary dirty talk and seducing your readers with your words... But when Joseph did it, his words and voice always struck you deep. Much deeper than any other partner had, which was slightly scary and mainly thrilling. You felt the heat creeping up your neck, a soft giggle being awarded to him. "....you know you are." You heard a pleased sigh from him, taking in a deep breath as you try to calm yourself. That no, sneaking off wasn't an option, that the growing ache between your legs would have to wait, even if you wouldn't have him talk you through it, guide you toward climax in the only way he could. But. "You got me wet and feeling it now every time I walk around in my pretty burgundy dress in a room filled with people."

"Well... I'm alone in my lonely room with a very bothersome hard on and... Probably feel lonelier still when we say our goodbyes and I'll only have my hand and thoughts of you in your pretty burgundy dress, wet, wishing I can feel just how wet you are."

You let out a breath, closing your eyes a moment. "...and I'd wish it was my hand, my mouth, on that...bothersome hard cock," you heard him groan, making your heart flutter, as well as your cunt. "Like I've been fantasizing this past week."

He took a deep breath, you could hear the exhale produce static on your end, a soft hum. "Same here, love. Suppose we'll be doing the same thing tonight..."

With a dejected sigh, you have an affirming hum, "Our ten minutes are about done. Otherwise I'd sneak to a room somewhere and..." You chuckled, "Tell you in excruciating detail the things I'd do to you to make you curse." His laugh comes out at that, making your smile spread further on your face. "But. I am due on stage to introduce my best friend's boyfriend and his band, so... She'd kill me if I missed that, and then would go and kill you, and no one wants that."

"No, no, we do not. That's fine. More to release when I see you tomorrow. Probably keep you to myself for the rest of the week, fair warning, darling."

"Yes, Professor. I'm very okay with that."

The way he groaned at that made your heart flutter again, as well between your legs. You did miss him, terribly, your fingers and toys did little to satisfy you, not without his warmth, his kiss, the moans you'd swallow and hunger for more. "...keep that up and I won't want you to call me anything else."

"Is it bad I kinda like it? P r o f e s s o r?"

He gave a helpless laugh, "Shit, it is. It's very bad of you. Naughty, even. Wicked. My poor coc—"

"Tomorrow, only until tomorrow. And then I'll make it up to you, in any way you want me to. I'll call you professor if you want me to."

"I knew there was a reason you're my favorite student..." You smiled and you could feel he was smiling too. "Okay. I'm going to give you back to your best friend, again. Thank her for me, for letting me have you to myself for this long."

"I will, she'll expecting nothing less. Think of me?"

He chuckled, and you could picture him shaking his head. "When am I not? Especially right now, left to my own devices... Until I have you to myself again." You heard him take a sharp intake of breath, "Have fun, yeah? I love you."

You felt like a teenager again, at the sound of those three words, said recently, right before you left. A slip of the tongue, but meant with sincerity from you both. "I love you, too. I'll see you... Bye."

"Bye, darling. I can't wait."

There was a heaviness that weighed on you as you ended the call, knowing it had to be you, otherwise you wouldn't end it at all. The warmth of his voice lingered, the image of his face imprinted on your brain, curling your fingers around your phone. A thought hitting you like lightning, going to messages and tapping quickly.

Send me a voice note. I wanna hear you.

He liked it.

Your smile widening as you turned around, dumping your phone into your purse and with your heels, made it toward the small stage where the band were setting up. Hands went to Jen's shoulders, hugging her from behind. "I'm all yours, now. He said thank you for letting him have me for the call."

She scoffed with a roll of her eyes, "Gross, you guys are gross."

"Shut up, we're cute." Jen seeming unconvinced. "Whatever, I'm happy."

Your best friend gave a shrug, "Then that's okay." You pulled away and stood beside her, and she took a breath. "He does seem to make you happy and... I don't hate that. Just the whole...secret relationship thing gives me pause." Crossing her arms, she looked to you, raising her brow. "Be honest.... You really okay with it? Because if you are, I'll back off and be one hundred percent for you guys. Because he is nice and seems crazy about you and I haven't seen you this happy in a while... I just don't want you hurt, y'know? I'm not being a bitch—"

"You're never a bitch—" you interjected, pausing as you two looked at each other, and you smirked. "Okay, well, yeah, you are, but for good reasons. A boss bitch, through and through." You paused a bit, giving a shrug of your shoulders. "I dunno. We talked about it... I kinda get it, he kinda blew up overnight and doing...so many things and I... I can't even imagine. I got booktok and like... Well, this book tour, but, obviously nothing on his level. He seems more concerned about if it came out, he'd overshadow my book and the press for it." Which you did appreciate, you worked hard, but part of the reason you got the book done as fast as you did was his encouragement. Being the first to read your pages, his excitement over the story you crafted holding a huge part. "It would have been nice to dedicate the book to him, but, since we aren't....out, didn't really feel right."

"Mmhm..."

"But. I don't know, at first it was kind of fun, sneaking around, dodging photographers, you know. Secret affair type of thing except not being horrible with spouses to cheat on, that kind of thing? And we were casual at first, seeing other people, until... We weren't and...not casual anymore. I mean, it's kind of still fun but also...not."

Taking a deep breath, she sighed. "And how long until it's not kind of fun for you?"

Looking over at her, you frowned, hating that she had a point. "I don't know. I'm not there yet... And I'm hoping it doesn't come to that because... I'm really fucking happy with him." Raising your brow, you give her a reassuring smile. "I'll be careful. And if I'm not, you can kick my ass about it."

"Deal," she agreed to, seeming a little lighter about the situation. "So, is he still going to dress all Mr. Darcy as a Professor when you see him?"

"I swear, he's a walking Jane Austen leading man, like it's just straight up Professor without him even trying." She laughed, you joining in. "It's gotta be a British thing, it has to." Laughing a bit harder, "I teased him with an idea, though, dressing up like a student."

"Oh? Oh, that'd be perfect. Are you meeting him after that con or...?"

A sly smile comes across your face, then, looking at her with a slight chuckle. "Mmm... Don't laugh, but... I actually planned on surprising him at the con?" Your smile widened as she gasped, looking at you agape. "I bought a photo and autograph with him. I knew there'd be no chance on the day of and I thought it'd be cute, you know? He doesn't know."

"Oh, God, I hate to say it, but that's fucking adorable! And kinda genius." Her eyes widened, "You know, though... I mean... The set up's too perfect, you have to dress all slutty student."

"Hey, slutty is for Halloween, I'd be dressed as his favorite student, with knee highs, he seemed very into that."

If her eyes could widen even further, Jen's would, letting out a bark of a laugh. "Oh my god, knee—no, no," shaking her head. "You are doing this. You are gonna do this. Listen...we're gonna make this happen."

"We don't have time, I'm getting the red eye, remember? And by the time this is over—"

But she was determined, shaking her head, "Nope, look. You're gonna introduce the band, because you are my amazing writer friend and words are your thing. We'll stay for a few songs, and then I'm going to take you shopping, okay? I'm making this happen, I'm gonna make this happen for you."

"I thought he gave you pause and you're gonna work this hard to make a fantasy come true for him?"

She wagged her finger from side to side, "Oh, no, no. Not for him, for you. Look, he seems great and he probably is, and maybe there will be a time where he's like a brother to me, but right now? I believe you when you say he makes you happy and that you're happy with him, I see it, so, I'm doing this for you. Because you are my best friend and that's love, bitch."

"I love you. Like... You'll always be my first love, in a totally platonic kind of way. Only because of the fact that you're annoyingly straight."

Jen sighed, "I know, it's a pain, but, we'll always have each other's backs and our hearts, before anyone else." Her gaze going toward the stage, her musician boyfriend giving her a nod, releasing a soft smile. "We didn't do so bad, though. You're up. Make me proud of my boyfriend, okay?"

"Oh, yeah, how do you want me to go about it? Soft and emotional, very serious or...roast him but from the heart?" You both looked at each other for a moment, the answer quite clear.

"Roast him."

for your consideration....

#words did come hither — writings #joseph quinn — writings #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn x fem!reader smut #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x reader

[player1064]

Hi! All such great carraville drabbles so far! If you’re still doing them, may I request them coming out publicly and the various reactions of news broadcasters, other ex/current footballers and of course, the internet. Thanks!

aaa thank you!!! and yessss I love fics where it's public reaction to stuff and i LOVE multi-media type fics so this was fun to write (even though i am much too lazy to come up with fake twitter usernames)

---

Group: MU mob

Phillip: forwarded an instagram post by gneville2 Phillip: ???

Gary: what Gary: do u think I was too nice to him in the caption Gary: I can edit it to add something about scousers maybe Gary: or how he never won the league

Phillip: you and Carragher???

Gary: ?

Paul: whyd u make me look at that rot first thing in the morning Paul: put me off my breakfast that did

Ryan: im not installing instagram for this whats he done now

Nicky: ^

Phillip: he’s dating Carragher?????

Ryan: where have u been for the last 2 years its literally all he talks about

Phillip: America! I have been! In! America! Phillip: Gaz I can’t believe you told them and not me?

Paul: I wish he hadnt told us to be fair Paul: they r so annoying

Gary: sorry phil I mustve forgot Gary: timezones etc Gary: gtg we’re having breakfast before he has to head to studio 🥞😍

David: nice post Gary 😊🏳️‍🌈 Happy for you x

Chat: Stevie G

Missed call from Stevie

Stevie: Carra

Missed call from Stevie

Stevie: Jamie Lee Duncan Carragher Stevie: pick up your damn phone Stevie: you are shit at this best friend thing yknow Stevie: also Gary Neville??? Stevie: you were moaning about him when I called you just last week Stevie: but if he makes you happy that’s alright then Stevie: tell him he’s buying me a pint next time I’m home Stevie: in liverpool mind Stevie: don’t care if you love him you won’t see me in pub in manchester

The Daily Mail

LIVERPOOL AND MAN UTD LEGENDS JAMIE CARRAGHER AND GARY NEVILLE REVEAL GAY RELATIONSHIP?

Former rivals turned co-pundits posted Valentine’s day messages on their Instagram accounts which appear to show an intimate relationship between the two men, who were both married to women for over ten years. Neither has responded for comment.

Comments:

> they’re the worst pundits on sky anyway they don’t even try to hide the bias for their teams

> gary neville’s always trying to bring politics into everything rishi was right he should stick to football!

> well I will be getting my commentary from MOTD moving forward. wish I could cancel sky sports but can’t afford to miss all the match coverage so they will be getting a strongly worded letter from me instead.

The Guardian

OPINION: IT’S 2024. WHY HAS THE FOOTBALL WORLD NOT CAUGHT UP?

There are still no openly gay players in the top tier of the men’s game. Now that two retired premier league footballers have come out, we have to ask: why is this headline news?

Both Liverpool and Manchester United football clubs have posted messages in support of Neville & Carragher, and so have many current and former players. But it begs the question why they thought that support might not be implicit, or why the two pundits had to publicly “come out” at all.

Comments:

> tbh I didn’t even know who they were until I saw Beckham’s ig story 💀

> surprised Gerrard’s not said anything, thought he and Carragher were mates >>> probably can’t if he wants to keep his manager contract $$$

> the guardian: why is the media making a fuss about two ex-footballers coming out? the guardian: is part of the media making a fuss about two ex-footballers coming out…

Twitter

Sports - Trending Gary Neville 264k tweets

Jamie Carragher 151k tweets

@.1111 they’ve been obsessed with each other for years is anyone really surprised

@.222 ngl I thought Gary Neville was already out as gay? You’re telling me people have believed he’s straight this whole time??

@.333 it’s giving slow burn enemies to lovers 150k words…

@.444 sky already wheels the two of them out together whenever they need to promote ANYTHING I bet it’s gonna get 10x worse now

Chat: J ❤️

G 👹👸: good luck on show tonight G 👹👸: no vday dinner :( G 👹👸: I shall have to waste away and pine instead G 👹👸: drown my sorrows etc

J ❤️: should be back to hotel by 1 at the latest J ❤️: I know that’s past ur bedtime old man so don’t wait up

G 👹👸: I will be up (😉😉) and ready to give you your dessert 😘 G 👹👸: might have a cheeky nap before though to be fair

#sorry to stevie g for being slightly mean to him in this but well. i dont approve of his recent career choices <3 #thanks for the prompt!!! i really really enjoyed writing all the text messages daskjsghfdg #carraville #drabbles #place ur bets now did gary successfully wake from his nap on time to greet jamie or did he fall asleep immediately

[plzu]

Just Water, Thanks - (Adrian Chase x Reader)

part four☕️

a/n: tbh if my 13 y/o self saw me updating a multi-chapter fic [redacted] months after the last update, she'd be impressed. this is shorter than i wanted it to be bc i had to cut it off. consider this an in-between chapter as we navigate (negative) emotions and such. anyway, hope y'all don't mind as i steer this story into angst territory! Summary: Adrian takes care of you while you are drunk and miserable in his home. Warnings: 18+, no Y/N, ANGST (reader is going thru it), mentions of assault, mentions of gore and blood and nightmares, a reference to one of the Saw movies (idk which, sorry), not beta read, if i missed anything lmk pls!! Word Count: 3.3k+

Revelations are dizzying. Revelations taste like vomit in the back of your mouth, and the backs of your teeth. Revelations leave you sore all over, more sore than you think you’ve ever been. Revelations are exhausting. They leave you parched as shit.

Or maybe that’s just the alcohol.

The night wasn’t supposed to go like this. 

It was supposed to be some girls from high school. Old friends. Best friends. The people that were your anchor in Evergreen, who made everything bearable. Late night talks and laughing over the dumbest things and whisperings about crushes and aspirations.

People you slowly stopped talking to once you moved across the country, to some city that could swallow you whole.

People that decided to return the favor. Two last minute ditches, and one that completely ghosted you. They’re just busy, you thought, a dirty martini and a half in. They have real jobs, and spouses, and… kids? Maybe?

Pouty and miserable at the sleek bar, drowning your insecurities in alcohol, picking at the olives at the bottom of empty glasses. They’re too- too good for me, anyway. 

Having found some semblance of happiness in an unlikely friendship with Adrian Chase, you thought you’d finally venture out, expand your social circle again. Feel like you have everything together, finally.

Learn to experience snatches of happiness elsewhere, outside of time spent with Adrian. Because, face it: there is something that feels slippery about him. Evanescent. Like one day he’s going to disappear, or get bored of you.

Or reveal whatever secrets he’s been clearly harboring, something neither of you could return from, and the wedge that it would drive between you would leave you right back to where you started: a ghost that didn’t even have the good grace to properly die. 

You walk -- stagger, really -- down the empty street, most of your weight supported by the masked Vigilante. Adrian is supposedly under that mask. You cannot wrap your head around this fact, even after watching Vigilante answer Adrian’s phone, and say some bullshit excuse only Adrian could come up with. 

“Alright, here we are!” Vigilante (Adrian?) declares. “The Vigilante-mobile.”

You both come to a stop. You squint bleary-eyed at the 4-door sedan, glance at the masked face beside you, then back to the car. 

“It’s just your regular car.”

Vigilante -- no, Adrian, definitely Adrian -- snorts. “Well, yeah. I can’t exactly afford a second car with a busboy salary.”

This almost makes you laugh, because Adrian is good at that, really. Effortless. But nausea stirs in your gut, so you decide against it. Grumble a wordless response instead. 

Adrian attempts to ease you into the passenger seat, asking if you’re hurt anywhere else. If they hurt you in any worse ways other than the obvious. You can only shake your head noncommittally, fighting back the urge to vomit again. There will definitely be bruises and sore spots on your aching body from the rough way they had handled you, but you know what he’s really asking.

Head slumped back against the headrest, you close your eyes for a few minutes. You have to buckle up, Adrian urges, but you cannot find the strength or the energy to pull the seat belt around your body. A pathetic little huff is all you can really muster before Adrian, patient and gentle, pulls the seat belt around your torso and fastens you in place. 

Unfortunately, the gentle action is buffeted by the coppery scent that washes over you, the roughness of his gloves and suit briefly scraping your skin; this doesn’t smell like Adrian. Not like the familiar Irish Spring soap, or coffee and caramel after visiting you at the cafe. This makes you whine. Whimper, really, dissatisfied and uncomfortable and very momentarily scared. 

Misunderstanding, he tells you you’re going to be okay, in a voice that’s a touch too animated for the general mood of the night.

When the door is shut, you try not to suffocate in the brief silence that follows. Keep your eyes closed as the muffled thud of the trunk jolts the car a bit, willing the queasiness away. Desperately wishing for water, or sleep, or death. 

You do not open your eyes when Adrian finally gets in the car, and starts driving, until he mentions something about taking you home. At that point, your eyes fly open.

“No,” you beg. “No, Adrian, please. I can’t go home like this. I don’t want them to see me like this.”

There’s a quiver in your voice. Nervousness builds in your chest, a rapid flutter in your ribs that makes you feel like crying. Adrian stares, eyes flicking from your face to the quickening rise and fall of your chest, and you realize it’s just Adrian sitting next to you, now. Wearing normal clothes. No blood-splattered suit or eerie red visor. Just the familiar--if slightly disheveled--curly hair and glasses, lips parted in confusion or concern. Seeing his bare face is almost a comfort, especially when he nods, and faces the road again. 

The trip to Adrian’s apartment becomes a hazy memory. He walks you through the corridors of some small apartment complex until you’re trudging through the threshold of his home, where he guides you through the dark into his bedroom. You sag into the edge of his bed once he turns on the light. 

“Gotta get you cleaned up, but… do you need water?” Adrian asks. You only stare back up at him before he goes, “right, yeah, no, you definitely need water. Wait right here.”

When he comes back, Adrian is juggling a couple of bottles of water and a first-aid kit to dress your wound. He sets everything down, handing you a chilled water bottle which you gratefully accept. You cannot unscrew the cap of the bottle fast enough to immediately quench the discomfort of your sandpaper tongue. 

“Slow sips,” Adrian says, after some reckless guzzling causes you to choke and dribble water all over your chin. 

Setting the bottle aside, you notice stands with his back to you on the other side of the room. You realize this is him giving you privacy so you can begin the struggle of taking off the stockings. They get halfway down your thighs, dress rucked up around your hips, before the effort of it unlocks a well of tears; a flash of a memory of being six years old and left to fend for yourself for the first time in a fight to tug on tights for school.

It’s not that you’re so inebriated that you can’t take off your stockings, though it certainly doesn’t help. It’s that once you get the fabric rolled down to your skinned knee, a new wave of nausea overcomes you. You can feel the mesh of the tear sticking to the gooey wet parts of the wound, and your mind reels with the dizzying thought that if you tug anymore, you’re going to make it worse. Take more skin off. Bleed all over Adrian’s bedsheets. Throw up again, probably.

It’s just for a brief second, you don’t let the feeling last too long, but-- the quick snatch and tug of the nylon on the tattered skin of your knee reminds you of one of the Saw movies, and how one of the traps involved gluing some poor fuck’s bare back to the driver’s seat of a car. And the way he had to peel off the seat, screaming and sweating, struggling to reach the -- the brakes? The gas? -- just to try to save some girl’s life. The stretch of skin, the vivid gleam of blood, your memory no doubt enhancing the gore of the scene in a new wave of despair.

When Adrian turns around, he finds you with your face hidden in the cusp of your palms, stockings only rolled down to the tops of your knees. Your dress is still bunched up around your hips, and maybe you should feel exposed, sitting on Adrian’s bed with your thighs bared. Embarrassed, even. But between the ick in your stomach and the sour taste at the back of your throat and the headache that begins to pulse behind your eyes like remnants of the bassline from the club, you don’t have any room to care. 

(And, admittedly. You don’t think you’d mind Adrian seeing this much of you. Under different circumstances, at least.)

You sense him hovering closer, probably paused at the sight of you all pathetic on his bed. Or the bare flesh of your thighs, more likely. Something unintelligible is mumbled into your hands in an attempt to draw his attention. Let him know you’re aware of his presence, and that you’re lucid, at the very least.

“Sorry- what?”

You sniffle, before mustering up the strength to raise your head up. But only enough to stare at his feet. “I can’t- My tights. I can’t… take them off.”

You watch as his scuffed up shoes approach you. Absently, you think about how Adrian hasn’t worn these before, even though it’s gotten cold. And, oh, they’re probably just part of his Vigilante costume. 

Ah. Vigilante. Adrian. 

“Whoa… what do you mean?” Adrian crouches down, his bespectacled gaze in your sight, and you realize the quick, short breaths you hear are your own. “Are you going to cry again? I have tissues here on my nightstand- for, like, normal reasons. Nothing gross. Ignore the lotion.”

There’s a very small part of you that knows this would have -- should have -- made you laugh. It’s the part of you that feels detached from this whole experience, as if watching from outside of your body. Like a muted, sober-ish ghost that can’t do anything but observe. Helpless. Unable to keep you safe.

You can’t even take off your fucking tights by yourself.

“The- the cut on my knee,” you attempt to warble through your explanation. “It’s, um- it feels weird. I don’t think I can take off my tights…”

“Well, we have to dress the wound otherwise it might get infected.” Adrian pauses, raises his hands so they hover over your lap. “Is it okay if I..?”

When you nod -- shakily, fearfully, desperately -- his hands continue their journey to your right thigh. His middle and forefingers, surprisingly gentle, slip into the scrunched up fabric at the base of your knee, and a shiver runs down your spine at the feel of his hands there. There is a feeling that slowly blooms in your chest at the sight of Adrian on his knees for you, taking care of you. But it’s being overshadowed by the anxiety gripping your throat and making your head spin in anticipation of the potential pain to come from your tights being ripped from your bloody knee.

No longer able to keep upright, you gracelessly plop back into the soft sheets, ceiling swaying in your vision. You make no effort to get back up; not like you wanted to watch the horror of Adrian potentially ripping the skin off your knee.

His voice, with a touch of anger that’s still unusual to hear, cuts through the haze of worry. “I hate those motherfuckers for doing this to you.”

A humorless, breathy snort escapes at that, shame sapping the energy out of you. “That wasn’t their fault,” you mumble. “‘M not tryin’ to defend them or anything, but it was my stupid, drunk ass that tripped and got myself into this whole mess…”

Because the truth is, if you hadn’t drunkenly stumbled down the wrong street when trying to find your Uber, if you hadn’t worn heels that don’t feel natural on your feet anymore, if you hadn’t felt so anguished and lonely that you sought solace in a few too many cocktails-

If you had just been a better friend to the people that made your high school years bearable, you wouldn’t have been crowded and overpowered by strange men with horrifying intentions. 

“Were you… by yourself?” Adrian’s voice carries over you while he’s still somewhere at your knees. “Where were those friends of yours? The ones you were meeting up with?”

The heels of your palms dig furiously into your closed eyes until you’re seeing black and red and you’re sure your eyeballs are just about to successfully squish into your skull. “They never showed up,” you admit, hoarsely, dejectedly.

Moments pass. There’s this light, almost lulling feeling, the tug and pull of your right leg. If you weren’t drowning in the barrage of negative thoughts and guilt and the kind of worthlessness that only creeps up on you in your own bedroom, you’d find Adrian’s ministrations comforting. 

“Don’t get mad, but it doesn’t sound like they were very good friends if they abandoned you to drink alone at club a in a sketchy neighborhood.”

But isn’t that what I deserve?

See- 

You left. Most people did after high school, but you made it a staunch point to never come back. 

You didn’t mean to abandon the friends you made in Evergreen. But life went on, and time passed quicker than you could make sense of, and fuck if you didn’t find any excuse to not come back home during breaks -- internships, supposedly important trips for school, job-hunting, moving in with your first love -- all so you could prolong seeing your family again.

What’s so bad about them, anyway?

They make me feel-

A sharp sting of pain rips you out of dark muddled thoughts, hissing through clenched teeth as you shoot into an upright position, lurching forward. 

“Sorry, sorry! But I did warn you.”

Oh, right. Adrian. You’re in Adrian’s bedroom, and he’s currently at your knees, hair still rumpled and eyes shining bright and concerned behind his glasses. And… he’s holding an alcohol pad. And your knee is…

“You got the tights off?” you ask in breathless disbelief.

“Yeah. I had to cut it up, though.” He grimaces. “Sorry. But it was already torn, so…”

Sure enough, the area around your knee is now fully exposed and free of any sticky mesh. The cut was beginning to scab over, but the alcohol pad made it newly shiny. It stings, but at least it doesn’t look like whatever nightmare scenario you’d been afraid of.

Adrian continues cleaning up and bandaging your wound as you look away, too light-headed to watch him work. It’s not until he’s gently pressing a bandage to your knee that you finally let out a breath you didn’t realize you were even holding. 

“There, all done.” Adrian stands, gathering everything up with careful, unrushed movements. “Let me get you something to sleep in.”

“Huh?” You blink up at him, confused. 

He’s rummaging through a dresser drawer, back turned to you when he responds. “Trust me, you’re not going to want to fall asleep in ripped clothes.” Turning around with some folded clothes in his hands, he continues, “I don’t imagine it’d be very comfortable. Plus, what if you wake up, not remembering what happened--you know, because of the drinking-- and you’re in my bed with a ripped dress? How does that make me look? It’d be pretty hard to convince you I didn’t do anything to you.”

He hands you the clothes--a big soft tee-shirt and sweatpants--and turns to leave. There is a cacophony of feelings clamoring around in your head and in your heart, and you find yourself helplessly overwhelmed once again but also, endlessly grateful for this man that saved your life. Not just tonight, but the night he stepped into your cafe painfully close to closing and made things feel silly and good again. 

“Adrian?” you softly call out as he turns to leave you to change.

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re my best friend.”

Something expands in his chest when Adrian hears those words come out of your mouth. Like a frog puffing up with a croak, or a balloon that’s filled to bursting but doesn’t want to pop. He thinks he was a kid the last time he actually heard someone tell him, to his face, that he’s their best friend.

Sure, the admittance wavered out in an alcohol-infused breath, and he’s not sure how much you had to drink tonight but it may be enough to forget this moment.

But he wasn’t drinking. He’ll hold onto this moment forever.

A smile grows crooked on his face as he hovers by the door, meeting your gaze. “Yeah?”

You nod, holding the clothes handed to you lamely in your lap. There’s something glum about the sag of your shoulders, but he can’t think about that too much in his rush to assure you that you’re his best friend, too. Top 3, definitely.

This makes you snort, which he counts as another win for the night since it’s the first sound of laughter he’s heard since finding you in the alley.

He finally leaves you to change, and to get some much needed rest, and grins from ear to ear at the knowledge that the person he’s liked since high school is in his bed tonight.

Despite the comfort of Adrian’s tee-shirt, the smell of him in his clothes and sheets, the softness of it all wrapped around you, you do not sleep well.

You dream of dark alleyways and even darker figures crowding you, overpowering you. Limbs boneless, unable to fight back. When you scream, it’s not loud enough. There’s a thumping bass reverberating off brick walls that drowns out your cries for help. 

It’s frustrating. This powerlessness. The feeling of utter uselessness, frightening to your core. 

Then, the dream shifts. You are no longer being crowded and pinned by the shadowed figures, yet fear still grips you, clings to your skin, hot and wet- when you look down, the sticky wet feeling isn’t fear but blood, splattered all over your clothes and dripping from your arms. You want to feel triumph, search for the feeling in the recesses of your brain, you want so badly for that to replace the anxiousness gripping your lungs now that you’re free.

But when you look back up, you see viscera-laden bricks. Bodies with holes where they shouldn’t be, missing pieces. This is still a nightmare.  A familiar voice, tainted by something dark and unrecognizably sinister, laughs at the mouth of the alley. It’s another shadowy figure, red visor glowing in your direction. “You’re okay now,” he says, tone unsettling, too-chipper. “They’re all dead!”

taglist: @whatevermonkey @nobodys-baby-now @hiddlebatchedloki @pokoyolfhw

#adrian chase x reader #vigilante x reader #writing #fanfic #mine #peacemaker fic #vigilante fic

[breakingbranchesbella]

Self-Indulgence; A Criminal Minds Multi-Fandom Fic

Also found on Wattpad, Quotev, and Ao3 under the name BreakingBranches.

CHAPTER 1 - Loose End

Season 1. Episode 15. Unfinished Business. 

  IT'S NO SECRET that the younger you are, the longer time seems to go. Once you reach your fourties' a decade feels like a fever dream. Cassandra was still a little far from that mark. She was still only twenty-six. Twenty-six and she had wasted eight years of her developmental life personally deteriorating her own psyche. Only to be spat out by the big green machine. Now, eight years wasn't a decade, but it was certainly a long time to spend running towards no light at the end of the tunnel. 

  The tunnel had ended. The light still wasn't there. 

  Cassandra wasn't suffering, not really. She wasn't stuck in an endless torture of her own mind. She had passed her evaluation. She had been cleared for the field. Twice now, given she was sitting in the stuffiest office possible with the worst fluorescence known to man. Maybe the second worst, and she would only know this from the memories that this little scene brought back. Except in these recounts, she was on the other side of the desk. 

  "Miss Lorayne, we ask that you answer these next few questions to the best of your ability. Do you understand what I mean by that?" 

  "I do."

————————————

  There was an incessant buzzing in Cassie's pocket. At first, ignoring it had been her go-to solution. That hadn't worked. It still rang on. Over and over. And over again. Nothing but a frighteningly stimulating reminder of why she was here. Sometimes another person's kindness only serves to make you feel more helpless. Cassie had gone from a problem solver to a statistic in just twenty-five seconds. A few months later she was back to her protector role. The only difference was that this role didn't require her to move around every few months. Currently she was stationed in Quantico, Virginia. Sure, she had been given the warning that her days of freedom were seldom with this job. That traveling was still very much a constant, so much so they needed a personal jet. Having a house was just a new sort of feeling. Not a good one. Not a bad one either. 

  From police to FBI, oh how the mighty had fallen. Everyone had their opinion of each other in that part of the world. CIA, FBI, homeland security, the military, and all the way down to beat cops just trying to fill a quota. They all had their specific issues with one another. Sometimes it reached a point where the individual only cared because it was mob mentality. Cassie had her reservations, but she also had to have a job. Work till' you die, the American dream. 

  Physically, she was beyond qualified. Mentally, she met the requirements. Socially? That was going to be a fickle bridge to cross. One she was about to meet much sooner than she would have liked. 

  Today wasn't supposed to be her first day on the job, the role of a profiler and investigative specialist for the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Much to her chagrin, it was going to be beyond easy. They had been assigned a case early in the morning, a Sunday. She wasn't given the full details, former serial killer, something about resurfacing. Something about an old vendetta. Something about a former agent who had spent the later half of his life obsessing over a lost case. Something, something, it was always something. Initially, Cassie was to be formally introduced to the team in a timely manner, in which it was supposed to negate any sour feelings or potential problems. Though since the jet was about to take off, she was unceremoniously given a pat on the shoulder, and a general gist of what she was up against. 

  However there wasn't enough time to prepare her for the mixed bag of people she was about to meet. Not entirely in a negative perspective, it all trailed back to her own social issues. She was easier to describe than them, and that was more often than not five simple words. 

'Hard to get along with' 

  The muscled figure stepped onto the plane, inching her way through the first enclosed space. Once she was on the other side of the thin door she was met with six faces. Only one was vaguely familiar, the other five were total strangers. It wasn't hard to place vague description to the silent confused figures before her. Nerdy, jock, kind, snappy, old. That's about the most she processed. There was obviously a lot more that had been described to her, but looking at them now she decided to just boil it down to the bare minimum.  

  "Lorayne." 

  "Hotchner." Cassie stuck a hand out to shake his own. A firm grip meeting an even harder. Calloused fingers met better kept ones. He still had a wedding band on his finger, that was probably the only reason his skincare routine was better. Not that she had any to compete with.  

  Cassie had met agent Aaron Hotchner before. He was working on a case that bounced back and forth between military and federal jurisdiction. She was stationed in America at the time, a fateful meeting that didn't seem all that important so many years ago. Today she was unable to tell if she was thankful for it or not. 

  Green tinted eyes met hazel ones. The stare was neither aggressive nor polite. It was just that; a look. "How is Haley?" Hotch's wedding band was warm, he'd been white knuckling his fist all morning. At first she thought it might have been her arrival that sparked the odd tension in the plane, however when a seventh figure emerged from the back end, she realized she shouldered the blame pretty evenly. It didn't take an analyst to pick out he didn't belong here. He wasn't horribly anxious, but he rubbed the nail head of his pinky against his ring finger. He was angry about something. Most likely the liaison she was told would be joining the team temporarily. This was his old case. He'd have to feel some sort of guilt, nervousness, or pressure over this. After all in some way of describing it, it was his fault this guy was still out there. You'd never hear Cassie admitting such a thing out-loud. 

  Hotch's response about his spouse was interrupted by another voice. A heavy voice, it was filled with confusion. "Hotch?" Aaron turned, Derek was almost out of his seat now. His skin crinkled as his nose scrunched. A half a sneer. "Right, sorry." Aaron took a step to the side, he'd gesture over towards Cassie. 

  "This is the new agent, introductions were supposed to be more formal but..." Cassie could see the way he fought himself to not look towards the odd man out. She piped up. "Liberté, egalité, fraternité." Her pronunciation wasn't that far off. It sounded practiced. It was. "French revolution?" The skinny kid's brows knitted. His train of thought was derailed by the ever consistent Derek. "We all know that one. What the hell does it have to do with this though?" 

  Cassie shrugged, awkwardly rubbing her chin against her shoulder as she did so. "Something about sticking it to the man. I was supposed to start Monday, but they weren't entirely sure when the team would return. You're as upset about this meeting as I am." The atmosphere was honestly much kinder than most situations she had been in. But she was out of her element, a fish out of water. Here everyone seemed casual, when her normal was the very opposite. All eyes were on her. It took her another moment to understand why. Thankfully with the change in pace she didn't have to meet every confused gaze with a stiff position. She was allowed to be as informal as possible. Still, impressions mattered.

  "Cassandra Lorayne, Cassie, Cass, I don't have much of a preference." Tan fingers flexed against her sides. Without her manual of squaring her shoulders, planting her feet together, and raising an arm to her forehead, she didn't know what to do. Aaron was nice enough to pick up the slack. He'd point with all five fingers towards each member. "Jason Gideon, Elle Greenaway, Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid, Jennifer Jareau, and Max Ryan. Ryan was a part of the initial case eighteen years ago." At each call of their name the member would give some sort of wave or awkward smile, as if the pointing wasn't enough of an indicator. 

  The air about them gave away the notion that they weren't entirely aware of her indoctrination to the team. Cassie doubted it was sprung on them, but the concept was probably only batted around before more important things stole their attention away. Aaron had known for a while, he was the only one lacking any sort of surprise. 

  A few moments of people watching later and the jet was already taking off. Nobody sat properly, instead they'd shift their positions to sit around a clunky laptop that Derek was opening up. Dark fingers pads clacked against buttons, a small ringtone, and there was a woman on the other end. She had blonde hair and a very personal choice of fashion sense. "Talk to me sweetheart." Noone on the jet besides Max batted an eye at his nickname for the woman. Reid caught Cassie's confusion. A cautious smile paired with a tilt of her head led him to notifying her with two fingers half raised. "Penelope Garcia, our technical analyst." Cassie nodded. "Your oracle, yeah?" She'd murmur back to him. He didn't quite catch the reference. She didn't get a chance to explain it.

  "Philly PD confirmed that Carla Bromwell's been dead less than twelve hours. She was forty-seven years old." Hotch and Morgan glanced between each other. "That's odd." 

  "Their age range is older." 

  Elle cut in. "Why would the victimology change?" 

  "That's not the only odd thing, she was found tied with flex-cuffs, not ropes." Everyone was a puzzled as the next person. "That's all I have for you, PD is waiting for you at the crime scene." Morgan just nodded and waved her off with another unprofessional comment. "Thank you baby girl." 

  It wasn't easy to tell whether Cassandra's perplexed expression was due to the new information, or Morgan's choice words for his coworkers. Reid would once again offer some lighting. "It's sort of their thing." It wasn't a very good answer, but a relation like that, one that hadn't violated any rules yet, wasn't something she was able to comment too much on as the newbie. Instead she'd take the high road and sit back with a thick file of the former case findings. Unlike most others on the jet, she didn't spend her time researching other murderers and serial killers. It wasn't from a lack of care, more the opposite. Her former job hadn't been much different, albeit more physical. But she tired from surrounding herself with the worst humanity had to offer. She'd seen both sides of the spectrum, but the most heinous interactions often crossed her desk. If she had put any free time into it, she would have taken the plunge several years ago. 

  Instead of a refresher, this was her first time seeing the details. She'd have to put a good amount of effort into reading up on it. Everyone else was familiar enough. The seasoned veteran of this particular killer didn't seem to keen on the help, which only created another barrier.

  He wasn't stupid, and if Cassie could hear the way her newfound coworkers spoke about him, so could he. It wasn't anything unprofessional just voiced concerns. Cassie wondered if she had listened any longer when those same concerns would be made about herself. She didn't have the time to worry about some other's perception. The folder was thick, it smelled like freshly printed paper. Old records had been tracked down and republished, it beat searching up the initial documents. 

  She'd read over the whole thing twice before flipping back to the first police report and actually thinking about the words in front of her. By all accounts this new method of killing didn't seem to connect the previous offender. If it wasn't for the letter, nobody would have known. Which meant it was someone who wanted to do this, not someone who couldn't stop themselves. Which, Cassie had never found to be an accurate description of a murderer. She knew other profilers would classify that sort of person as an unwilling victim of their own urges. She liked to classify them as dead. But this was FBI, not the lawless land of the military. Blue jeans pressed against the back of leather seat covers, repositioning herself at the previous train of thought. 

  Why had he changed? It wasn't of his own accord, couldn't possibly be. Maybe she was getting ahead of herself. Her tongue caught between her teeth, sounding off a sort of clicking noise.

————————————

  Carla Bromwell's home was filled to the brim. The news reporters and curious passerby's were enough to give Cassie a headache. The amount of detectives inside was another issue. She'd split off from the two most comforting figures to take a look at the body. Gideon and Elle were headed to the room as well. "Agents Gideon, Greenaway, and Lorayne." The department detective raised a brow, but he wasn't given time to push the subject matter when Max came into the room.  

  "I was wondering when you'd show up." 

  Cassie didn't listen to the rest of their conversation. She might have been interrupting something when she spoke. "It's been processed?" A simple nod was all that she'd need. Kneeling down near the body, Cassie would carefully move her wrists and neck. The photos were an obvious indication that this was a different methodology. Elle took over, repeating Cassie's steps. Maybe it was out of distrust. Maybe it was out of morbid curiosity. "There's no bruising." 

  "The note said 'no fight'." Cassie tilted her gaze up towards Elle. Who was currently distracted with something else. From the looks of it, one could only assume it was whatever Max had said. Bad first impressions, but Cassie was struggling to really care about how the older man felt about all of this. Her scrutiny wasn't solely just from blaming him, more so his attitude. She didn't like it. Which wasn't actually saying much given she didn't like a lot of things. 

  Gideon broke the tense silence. "The wound is extensive, it's violent, he's escalating." Elle went on a sort of goose hunt after that. Not that Cassie would have done any differently, but she just wouldn't have said it out-loud. Her ability to work with others wasn't nonexistent, yet it did need an update to the manual. 

  "Elle's good at this sort of thing Max." 

  "Never said she wasn't." 

  Leveraging herself with the nightstand, she'd use an arm to stand up and take a step back so Max could look at the body himself. There wasn't anything else the could learn from it without the forensics report. Ryan pressed a padded finger against the woman's clothes. "I haven't felt like this around a dead body in a long time." 

  Cassie didn't need to hear anymore. He was taking it too personally. The former MP was no saint, she had her fair share of cases that she wore too openly on her sleeve. She had grown since then, to some extent. And in the areas that she hadn't, she kept hidden.

  As she was stepping out, Reid, Hotch, Elle, and Morgan were all coming back. Hotchner had a paper in his gloved hands. It didn't take a genius to guess what it was. 

  "In order for the light to shine so brightly, the darkness must be present." Max had taken the note, intent on reading it with his own eyes. The note offered two more context clues, a quote from Max's book, and the promise of a gift in two days. It was all an attempt at riling the former agent up. The unsub was targeting him specifically. Either a grotesque fascination or the perfect means of getting him worked up. An on edge agent is an agent who can't do his job. It was working. 

  They weren't going to find anymore than that. The behavioral team led themselves outside, only to be greeted by more angry reporters and microphones in their face. Cassie weaved through the crowd and dodged into the closest car available to her. A black sedan with tinted windows, a rental, something for the team to use. The department was the next agreed upon stop, from there everyone had done just about the same as her. 

  Unluckily enough she had managed to pick the one vehicle that Morgan was driving. The leather smelt of some bad cleaning agent and the air was humid inside the van. Getting comfortable seemed impossible so she'd opted for the self meditating movements of pressing down overgrown cuticles with her thumb. 

  "So," 

  She turned her head, her eyes lagging behind in the motion of facing him. 

  "So?" 

  "First day." 

   The car stalled to stop. Someone was taking too long to turn. 

  "Yep." 

  "That's all? No questions, comments, concerns? No issues?"

  Cassie's light brown brows furrowed. "Should there be?" 

  "No." 

  "Then, no." 

   There was silence again. The conversation was over. 

  "But," 

   Until it wasn't. 

   "Most aren't as enthusiastic to touch a body on their first day." 

  "CSI had already done what they needed to. I didn't see anything wrong with it." 

  Morgan let out an odd half-laugh, half-cough. "Again, I meant as enthusiastic." He'd tilt his head to the side, still facing forward as he spoke. His eyes never left the road ahead, but he made up for that with other movements. Every time he spoke his right pointer and middle finger would spread off of the wheel and point to who knows what. His right thumb tapped against the leather cover. 

  "I wasn't enthusiastic." 

  Her nose would crease with the rest of her face. An extended proof of her dissatisfaction over the comment, as if the quick change in tone wasn't enough. 

  "It was the first thing you did." 

  "But it's not my first time." 

  She watched as his bottom lip tucked under his front teeth. 

  "What did you do before joining the BAU?" 

  "You don't know?" 

  "I wouldn't ask if I did." 

  "This. Homicide investigation. We were all profilers, and detectives, and the law." 

  "Military?" 

  "Yeah. Aaron didn't say anything?" 

  "Didn't get the time to." 

  "Right." 

  There was no more talking after that. Further into the city streets Morgan would trade his hand motions for a thin pursing of his lips. Traffic was entertaining enough to drop any other questions he had. Or, Cassie just wasn't.

  There was no time wasted between parking the rental and meeting with the other timely members of the unit. They made their way inside the sand colored building and pretty quickly they had the entire department working with them. Cassie would take a few steps towards the back, as though she were yet another officer these agents were preaching to. It wasn't only due to her new rank on the totem pole with the team. She was also a little jarred by how quickly they where to adhere to policy and comply. Then again, this was the bureaucratic process, not the militaristic. 

  Hotch lead the beginning of the profile, as he went on the others bounced off of him. They were a real unit. Real as hers used to be. Most likely better. 

  "Over the last two decades, our killer has changed. The age of his victims is more notable." 

  The head detective on the case shrugged his shoulders. "The keystone killer is older, his victims are older too. So?" 

  "Most killers have specific fantasies they act out through their violence. These people fall under an identifiable few categories. He liked young brunettes." 

  "And that means?" 

  Back to the BAU members, they worked fairly seamlessly. There was no indication of a turn, however nobody attempted to speak over the younger Dr. when he chimed in. A commentary on Ted Bundy. Cassie only hoped he was brought up due to his known name, and not some weird fascination. Reid would go on to explain even Bundy had a type, a type that when he started to neglect, lead to his ultimate capture. In the same vain, it lead to more violence. 

  Gideon raised both palms at an angle. "It could be a sign that he's devolving." As though there was some invisible speaking baton being passed between the group, their statements moved from one to another. First with Morgan. "Which could mean he's about to slip up. Though, the devolution theory is just that, a theory, we can't rely on it." 

  "If he is in a frenzy," Hotch interjected, taking the mantle of the conversation again. "We can't tell how fast he'll continue to devolve." 

  "Or how many more victims he'll take before he's finished." Gideon curled his mouth inward. 

  "So, in order to keep that number as low as we can, we need to go over everything. Everything we learned eighteen years ago, everything we got today." 

  The oldest of the BAU leaned back against a whiteboard covered wall. He steepled his fingers together. "We'll start with the older profile, Max," The latter turned away, shaking his head and waving the former off. Gideon sent a look towards Hotch, who cast it over to Cassie. Her eyes went wide, then they scrunched up. Russet colored lips pursed before a curtly nod was offered. 

  "Right the..." She thought, frowned, then continued speaking. "We're looking for a man in his forties now, white. He's thoughtful, meticulous. His former means of killing suggests a law enforcement or military background. Most likely he's stayed in the same area all of his life." Had she been speaking too much? She passed the proverbial stick with a look of confusion. Tossing it's invisible form into the air and hoping for the best.

  Elle would come to the rescue. Then Morgan, then Reid, and back to Hotch for a closing statement. Gideon had meandered off after Max. At least, that was the most likely scenario. She couldn't really see the stern faced agent walking off just because he didn't want to present in front of the class anymore. 

  If he had, she wouldn't have judged. Her own presentation of the profile left a bad taste in her mouth. She wasn't used to this way of phrasing it. It felt clunky, unnecessary. She looked for evidence and facts, not probability. A profile wasn't unheard of in her investigative unit, but it wasn't relied on in the way it was here. Psychology was one thing, making up a killer in your mind was another. She was still skeptical. Openly so when she had been interviewed for the position. They felt her stance was a fresh look. She felt it was a pity situation. 

  After wrapping up the main idea, Hotch gestured for the team to follow him to a carved out space for them. The blinds were up, leaving the goings on inside of the room visible to everyone. Cassie didn't mind. The openness felt fresh. The sun could peak in through the windows. Her old office had been without windows, the light fixtures were bleary, the paint job reminiscent of a filing cabinet covered in dust. She much preferred it here. 

  She appreciated the two whiteboards. Even if it made the room more cramped, it allowed the youngest of the group to visualize his musings. In her past, she would have just strewn papers about her desk and hoped for the best. That seemed viable here too, but with so many members it might have gotten overwhelming. She glanced down at the wooden fixture. It already was.  

  "We should focus on the differences between the crimes, what's he doing that's new?" Hotch breezed past the group, yet another Manila folder in his hands.

  Elle, Hotch, and Morgan opted to sit around the table. Reid stood, phasing in and out of his own little world when the conversation required it. Gideon was beside him, he put more of his eggs in the basket of the exchange. The self-certified genius was good at balancing them between the two. Cassie was comfortable standing as well, just on the other side of the room. "The victim was hit in the head, so that's one." Derek leaned back against his seat. "The note mentioned she didn't put up a fight, so why feel the need to hit her? To show dominance?" 

  Hotch shook his head. It didn't make sense. "He never needed to before." Elle thrummed her fingers along a photo of the crime scene. "But a hit like that wouldn't just scare her, it would knock her out." 

  "—To control her better." The head of the group finished.  

  Cassie's gaze flicked between each speaker, landing on Gideon as he found interest in the abyss. He stared towards a photo, but his head seemed somewhere else. "He switched from a knot, his signature, to flex-cufs." 

  "They're easier, it saved him time." Morgan kept his eyes on Gideon. He'd turn his head over his shoulders to catch Cassie's eye when he finished speaking. 

  "No, no, it's not that. The knot was intimate. It wasn't about the ease of immobilizing her. He chose a completely unnecessary approach." 

  "Maybe we should just forget about this, seriously. It's not helping us to go over what others already knew. Let's pretend he's a new offender." 

  The glass was cool against her arms, she'd trade her hands for her biceps when pushing off of the wall to step forward. A little brazenly, she let a few fingers fall to the head of Morgan's chair, pressing down and holding on as a sort of cane for her posture. "That's the problem, he's still the same person he was. We can't mull over what happened in the past, but we can certainly compare it to the future. He went from intimate, slow, methodical killings. He played out his fantasy with full physical control. So he traded it, for what? A smack to the head and a heavy lidded girl. He can't watch himself take the life from her eyes anymore. Where's the 'fun' in that." Cassie sucked in a breath through her teeth during her commentary. She let it go quickly as she ended. 

  "What I'm saying is—" 

  "—Guys, I have a name." All eyes moved from Cassie to Reid. She lifted her hand off of Morgan's chair and crossed her arms. Her hip dropped at an angle and she balanced more weight on her left leg. 

  "Nibrahs? What is that?" Reid bit the inner left part of his cheek at Elle's question. "It's backwards, S. Harbin. He was an original suspect." 

  "It's not him."  

  Max had finally made his entrance. He brushed off the conclusion, claiming Scott Harbin, S., had been in jail for stabbing someone. Sentenced thirty years, which meant there was no way it was him.

  "Unless he's out on parole." 

  Max didn't seem to keen on the notion. "He's a pervert and a small time thief, he steals undergarments. I interviewed him, twice, he's no killer." There were a few exchanged looks. Morgan picked up his phone and nodded in Hotch's direction, who returned it with a nod of his own. "I'm going to call Garcia, see if she can find anything about him." 

  Max raised his voice, adamant that they were being lead down a dead end. A second wave of looks. Silence. Morgan left. 

  "Jason why are we here?" 

  "Hm?" 

  "Are we here to catch him, or just prove to Max he knows more than us?" 

  Nobody answered, because the only one who could had left. The four remaining didn't have a chance to pick up where Cassie had left off. Derek came back in with a shit-eating grin and a notecard with scribbles on it. 

  "We've got an address for Scott Harbin. He was paroled three months ago, missed his last hearing." 

  "That makes him a wanted man." Elle was already out of her seat, pulling her brown jacket over her shoulders. 

  Leaving the station house required a bit more than a few rental and squad cars. Priorities were higher, everyone was banking on the fact that this was supposed to be their guy. A killer to be put away. It still felt too easy. However, a dead end still pointed you to a different direction. They'd be negligent not to take it. No matter what was about to meet them on the other side. 

————————————

  They'd been banking on the fact that this was their Keystone Killer, SWAT was going to be involved one way or another. It took a few extra moments to get their group in the door after the men in black. They took a more defensive stance and let the first three members of the BAU past. Elle and Cassie were at the forefront, the presence sent a silent figure to dart from behind a cabinet. 

  "Don't move— Hey!" 

  Elle practically vaulted past Cassie towards the man, grabbing him by his shoulder and sending a swift kick to the back of his leg. He stumbled over and she applied her weight to his back to apprehend him. "Are you Scott Harbin?" Cassie felt a hand on her shoulder, and instinctively she moved out of the way. Max looked down at the man being detained. "That's him." 

  "Nice to see you too Ryan." He'd smile up from his cuffed position. Cassie's brows met in the space between her eyes and tilted upwards. "You missed a parole hearing." Gideon commented. It was just an excuse, they had no reason to be here. They had no real evidence. A lawyer could dismiss his name in the riddle easily. But, an excuse bought them time and a search warrant. 

  The agents wandered through his home, picking up what they could just based on his arrangements. He was organized, neat, obsessively so. He needed constant control over every aspect of his life. It made a good argument. Cassie didn't like the feeling of it, though. She stood in front of him, her hands resting on her hips. Her expression gave a lot more away than just a train of thought. She bounced from theory to theory. Moss colored iris' scanned his form. Even going so far as to move behind him from where he sat in the arm of his couch. She couldn't see any injury to his hands. Nothing of note about his posture or physical capabilities. He moved his fingers back and forth, a squeezing motion, an attempt at self soothing. She didn't think this was the guy. As much of a creep as he was. 

  He looked out of the corner of his eye at her. "You finished checking me out?" Cassie locked eyes with him, nothing but disinterest on her face. She wasn't going to say anything, even if she was she wouldn't have had the chance. Elle made her way over, almost gesturing for Cassie to take a position behind her. The two were about the same height, maybe Elle had an inch or two on her. Cass was a little better built physically. Not a hulking mass of muscle, but you could see the beginning of a tone through her short sleeved shirt. She'd take the offer anyway and step around the two. Elle was leaning over in Scott's face, her eyes wide with something beyond disinterest. Fury maybe. "Did she upset you? Make you angry? What? You're fantasizing about hurting her, me? No, no you wouldn't do that. What's the matter Harbin, can't handle a woman who isn't afraid of you?" 

  Scott licked his lips. A sign of enjoyment, a sign of stress, it wasn't enough to tell just from the movement alone. Agitated, probably. 

  Gideon pulled Elle aside. Cassie didn't want to listen. She moved on from the room and up the stairs to the second floor of the home. A few SWAT agents still roamed, but she mostly watched as Morgan and Hotch moved back and forth. They stopped in the entrance of a room for a second. She waited, too many cooks in the kitchen. She wasn't needed anywhere right now. 

  "We need some help in here! Get an ambulance, now!" Morgan's voice was like an alarm bell ringing, everyone throughout the home heard it. Someone called out a response and raced down the steps past her. She was moving with similar urgency in the opposite direction. She was tall enough to see over their hunched forms, Hotchner and Morgan crouched near a woman. Her mouth had been taped shut, her feet tied at the ankles. She was wrapped in some sort of plastic. Awkwardly, Cassie shouldered Morgan to push him out of the way. She wormed herself between the two and pulled out a knife from her back pocket. Carefully she tilted the sharper side of the blade up towards the ceiling and worked it under the plastic. It took a bit of leveraging and gentle 'It's okay, you're okay, its okay' to get the knife to pierce the solution. Once she had it torn enough she moved to pull a blanket off of the bed above them. Hotch helped to cover the exposed woman as Cassie cut, leaving no room for any extended embarrassment. 

  The woman wasn't harmed besides a few bruises on her hips and thighs. That was good enough for Cassie. Once she finished peeling back the last of what was on top, she switched positions with Hotchner and pressed a hand against the woman's cheek. There were too many sounds, too many questions, too many voices, Cassie only focused on the lady's sobs. She did her best to murmur those same former phrases over and over again.

  What felt like far too long of a time later, EMTs came into the room and pushed the three aside. Hotch left the building first, his cellphone indicating his attention was needed elsewhere are the moment. Morgan got out of their way, heading down the steps to reconvene with Gideon, Elle, and Max. Cassie stayed, she stayed until they were putting the victim on a stretcher and carrying her down the steps. She helped at the transfer point, holding the right corner of the stretcher near her head. She hadn't repeated her mantras in a while, the EMTs had picked up the slack for her. Once they could begin to wheel her out, the profiler let them go. 

  Philly PD wanted to be the ones to make the arrest. It looked better to the news reporters already gathering outside. Cass could only hope they had enough sense to not photograph the victim as she was being taken away, but she wasn't ignorant. 

  "It doesn't make any sense, he was a small time creep." Max let out a breath as he spoke. Gideon blinked. "He fits your profile, the age, the background, the obsessive traits." 

  "Still—" 

  "Guys." Cass pulled a slip of paper out of the wipers of one of the rental cars. "It's.. for you," She passed it to Max.

Isn't Scott an inelegant monster. He harbors no light. He is pure evil. Balance is what produces mercy. You'll be reminded of my mercy tomorrow. 

K.K.

  "We didn't get him?" Everyone had started to gather now. The pause was enough to spark concern. Morgan spoke first, Gideon answered. Max was too stuck in his head, going over everything yet again. He was reliving the chase from eighteen years ago. It wasn't pretty. "He's not the one we're looking for. Form a six block perimeter, we have to have seen him." 

  But they hadn't. Nobody had. He had been right outside, waiting for the exact moment the police would file in like ducks after their mother. He had slipped off without anyone the wiser. The atmosphere on the way back was bleak. Everyone shared a similar sentiment of frustration. Cassie couldn't feel proud of her observations from earlier, it had only served to get off the sick freak who was orchestrating all of this. It sentenced another victim to a worse fate. The BAU's methods made her feel stagnant, like she had no more control over what was about to happen than a leaf did over the way the winds blow. 

  "That's got to be a first for the BAU, a killer leading us to another." Hotch commented as the made their way back to the little room they were given for mediation. "No, we all know they make the best profilers, it's how they find their own victims. It's how they think they can get away with it." The oldest would correct.

  "So we're starting over. Run by it again, what do we know about the Keystone Killer?" 

 "He's not dead, or in jail." 

 "He likes playing with us, he's treating it like a game where he's controlling all of the pieces." Elle raised her head as she spoke. Then Morgan, then Reid. 

 "He strangled seven women in the late eighties, stopped for eighteen years, then picked it back up again. Only this time he chose to suffocate them. Ten percent of violent crimes are carried out through strangulation, it only takes eleven pounds to incapacitate a person. Hanging on for a minute longer and that person will never recover." The skinny kid's ramblings weren't bad. Cassie could admire them for what they were worth. He was smart. Probably smarter than she'd ever be. The only difference was he learned his facts through textbook, and she earned hers through practice. 

  "But, he suffocated his latest victim. It's actually more passive than strangulation. What Lorayne was saying earlier, he can't feel the life leave the body." Aaron reaffirmed. 

  "But why? Why, why, why? Why change his MO, it suggests a blitz attack, yet in the past he walks right into his victim's homes without so much as a struggle." 

  Cassie's face lit up, her expression almost elongating in a moment of realization. She had never finished her train of thought from before. They had been so distracted with Scott Harbin that she had just forgotten nobody else was thinking the same as she was. 

  "We keep talking about this as though he's doing it on purpose, but what if it's not. What if something happened that stopped him. A sole loss of confidence isn't enough for such a drastic change. He lost his confidence in his own abilities, not his means of killing. A few years ago I was on a case that involved a serial murderer, similarly to this guy's MO. Maybe a little less showy— in any case, he started to slip up when he changed. And he only changed because he had been in a supply moving accident. Lost all control of his dominate hand. Couldn't kill the way he wanted to. He found another way, but it was sloppy, witnesses were around, we caught him." 

  Morgan leaned against the wall where Cassie had once stood. "So it's an injury?" 

  "Or a stroke." Hotch looked to Reid, who shrugged his shoulders in response. 

  "Either one, there will have to be some sort of medical records, right?" Derek didn't really agree with Gideon. "Alright, so an accident after nineteen eighty-eight in Philidelphia, that doesn't lower our suspect pool by much at all." 

  "It's too many hospital records." Spencer finally answered. 

  "Call Garcia anyways, see what she can find." Pointing towards the exit, Gideon gestured to Morgan. 

  It took a few minutes for Morgan to return, he had a slanted smile. Not good, not bad. "There's a lot of records to go through. Garcia's having them sent over now." 

  Hotch moved towards the fax machine as it sounded off, indicating the first few pages. "Let's get started then." He'd grab a couple, pass them around, and repeat until everyone had a handful. Cassie still didn't sit with her pile, she'd let it sit off on the top of a cabinet next to her while she looked through whatever her current file was. 

  Morgan tossed down a few papers, a frown on his dark lips. "We're looking for a guy in his twenties, is that too early for a stroke?" 

  "I still think it's a possibility. We're looking for a fair amount of loss of mobility." Aaron didn't look up from his stack. Reid did however, happily explaining the statistics around strokes. Something or other, Cassie brushed it off with a laugh that sounded more from her nose than it did her mouth. 

  "Hm?" 

  Reid was staring at her now. So was Hotch and Morgan. She shook her head, biting the inner flesh of her cheek as she did so. They all went back to their own files.  

  Twenty-five minutes in and it felt a little hopeless. The records Garcia had given didn't narrow it down at all. Sure a few names were marked off, but then again too many to count were added. "This is taking too long. Just for a moment let's rule out strokes, what's something else that could have happened?" Cassie mimicked Morgan's earlier frustrated motion and tossed her papers down. 

  "A car accident would have to be filed in police records, especially if it resulted in injury, right?" Spencer tried to pick up where she was leaving off. Gideon and Max nodded. 

  "Back then we profiled him to have some sort of American-made sedan." 

  "Alright, then why don't I call Garcia back, have her cross reference sedan accidents with Philly PD records. That should narrow it down significantly with what we've established." 

  "It's a long shot." Ryan seemed on the verge of rolling his eyes at Morgan, a slip of a few words from Cassie halted that means of response. "It's better than nothing." 

  For the third time that day, Morgan would return from his little 'chat' with Garcia. Only this time he seemed a lot more proud of himself. "'Think I've got something; Walter Kern, fits our age range, military background. ROTC, Air Force, his accident happened right outside of Bromwell's address." 

  He passed the already printed document around. Cassie skimmed over it. He certainly looked like the type. "In his accident he lost mobility of his right side due to spinal cord and nerve damage." Veiny hands rolled up dove-white sleeves as he spoke. 

  Cassie watched as the invisible stick returned to the playing field. It was Hotch's turn. "He installed home alarms with, guess who, Scott Harbin." 

  She sought to grab it before it was taken by someone else. "That's how he could walk right in to his victim's home without issue." And as quickly as she had it, it was taken by Elle. Tapping her pencil against the paper, she'd flick it back and forth with her ring finger. "He got his major in criminology. Shows to how he was able to evade law enforcement." 

  And from Elle to Gideon, "Do we have an address?" 

  "575 Wight Street Southeast Philadelphia. Got you, you son of a bitch." 

  That was probably the first time Max had smiled in the day that Cass had known him. There was no time to mull over it, once again the team was up and moving. SWAT was hesitant, they had failed to catch him the first time, leniency wasn't on their side. Neither was the press. 

 Cass was stuck with Morgan again, Reid too, though he kept to himself in the back of the car. 

  "You were right." 

  Again she was stolen from her thoughts by the brawny driver. 

  "Is that shocking?" 

  "Well, not when you phrase it like that. I was trying to compliment you, you know." 

  "Oh."

  "That's it?" 

  "No, I was trying to think of something to reference that you would understand." 

  "Like?" 

  "A philosophical quote, nothing good came to mind. That's not exactly my thing." 

  Reid was about to say something and Morgan had that look in his eyes through the rear view mirror, something that screamed break-check. Reid no longer had anything to say. 

  "What is your thing then." 

  "Nothing really. Oh, I guess something along the lines of I'm the Chandler to your Phoebe, though that's a bit of a stretch. I only watched a few— Nevermind." 

  Morgan gave a dumbfounded look, but didn't press the issue. There were bigger problems than whatever Cassie got up to in her limited free-time.  

  Gideon and Max took the lead on the entry of the home this time. It was almost deserved.

  They knocked once. 

  No answer. 

  Twice. 

  No answer. 

  It was bordering on three when the door finally swung open. A woman in her later fourties' answered, she had short brown hair and a tired face. Makeup, jewelry, her clothes were ironed. Cassie's nose crinkled. 

  "This is agent Ryan with the FBI, we need to speak with your husband." The woman quickly looked away. She was sheepish, confused. She'd stutter out a response to Gideon. "He's not here." 

  "Do you know where he is?" 

  "Well, I," 

  "Why don't you let us inside?" 

  She stuttered, again, failing to form any coherent sentence. She'd nod anyways and the team followed inside. His wife said something about volunteering at a community center. Gideon notified Hotch, to which Cassie gently pressed her fingers to his raised elbow. He looked at her, doe-like eyes squinting in confusion. She took a step back and mumbled. "Don't send everyone there. He's still intent on giving us that 'gift'." Jason looked her up and down once, then complied without saying anything in response to her. 

  Max had let the reason they were there slip, the murders, the seven victims. 

  "I'm going to have to ask you to leave, please." She didn't take very kindly to the notion. Then again no good person would. "What you're suggesting is absurd, and," 

  "—I don't think you believe that Mrs. Kern." Cassie took a step closer to the woman. She was taller than her. Height helped in most cases she had been on before. 

  "Excuse me?" 

  "I don't think you believe that your husband has nothing to do with this. You're dressed awfully nice, he likes you that way doesn't he. Modest, untouchable. Though, I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that last part isn't true." 

  "Lorayne," Gideon warned. She should have listened, should have stopped talking. This was her first day, her first case, she had everything to lose. And yet so did an innocent girl. 

  "I'm guessing he has a space in the house, a room, an area, a closet, a chest youre not supposed to touch. Don't look inside of, don't even think about. If you did, Walter would get angry, wouldn't he?" 

  The wife took a step back. Cassie took a step forward. She looked anywhere but the agent's face. "He has a photo-room, but he only worries that I'll mess up his pictures. That's all." 

 "Eighteen years ago you noticed your husband fell into a depression, it seemed like it would never end. Maybe he was more irritable. You were thankful on one hand, he couldn't hit you if he wanted to. But he wasn't the same. Just a few days ago he returned back to his old self, for better and for worse." 

  "How do... no, what does it mean? Did he..?" Cass blew a quick puff of air out of her nose and stepped off to the side. She had said all she needed to. 

  "We need to see that room Mrs. Kern." She didn't miss the way Gideon followed her with a grim expression as he spoke. 

  SWAT was the first to clear the cellar on the left side of their home. It was cold, but well kept even from a quick glance at the stairway. Heading further into it lead to a room covered in photos, newspapers, anything relating to the case. He had a copy of the book Max had written about his experiences as an agent. He was a textbook stalker. Countless photos of past and present victims framed the steel-toned stone. 

  Reid flipped through a scrapbook looking binder. A collection of his killings, a story. There was a chapter missing, like he had referenced in his notes before. He wasn't finished, he had only killed Carla now because he had planned to kill her before. His accident had stopped him. It explained the extended depression. His fix wasn't just the killings, it was the perfection behind them. The consistent evasion, the methodology. 

  "Who's in the latest chapter then?" 

  "Sylvia Gooden." 

  Gideon stepped back into the room, he looked down at the image of the woman. "Hotch confirmed Walter left the community center an hour ago. We need Gooden's address." 

  Thankfully, for as much as a memorabilia fanatic he was, he included everything there was about these women. Including addresses. 

  The team was on the new sight as fast as possible, SWAT and Philly PD were right on their heels. It didn't take longer than a handful of seconds for them to be suited up and ready. Gideon confirmed Walter's vehicle was a block down the street. Preparations to go in were moving fast. Max raised his voice so the crowd of people could hear him. 

  "I want him taken in alive." 

  Which as fun as that sentiment was, it wasn't always a good one. They didn't have a clue what state they'd find Kern or Gooden in. Her life may come down to his. And while rotting in prison before his sentence was earned was the best possible outcome, Max needed to grapple with the fact he might not see satisfaction. 

  The blur of guns and combat boots breezed through the main doorway. Clearing each room was impertinent, and so was following the screams they could hear from Sylvia above. Gideon lead, followed by Morgan, Max, and Cass. Gideon trained his gun eye level before pushing open the door. There must have been eight voices, all yelling some different version of the same thing; 'Don't Move.'  

  Morgan detained Kern. He'd purposefully bash his side off of a full length mirror. A feasible accident excuse would work just fine. Cass made out the hand off to Max from behind her. Kern spoke of the former agent like some star crossed lover. She tried not to pay too much attention to it. 

  Currently calloused fingers were preoccupied in removing the plastic from Sylvia's face. She brushed her thumb against the older woman's forehead, checking to make sure the blood that was leaking was also clotting. It had already started to dry, she hadn't been hit too badly. Most likely because she had struggled too much for Kern's liking. 

  "Shh.. shh.. it's okay, you're okay. My name is Cassandra Lorayne, alright Miss Gooden? You're not hurt anywhere else, right?" 

  The blonde woman shook her head. Her body was trembling. She was sweating, her skin was clammy. It was taking her a bit longer to get the words out of her sob choked throat. Cassie didn't rush her. She'd repeat what she had done with the previous victim hours earlier. A gentle seesawing motion of her knife and the flex-cuffs were off.

  "Breathe with me Miss Gooden." 

  She was sitting up now, her shoulders heaving with another heavy cry. Cassie moved from her kneeling position to sit beside her. She pulled the woman closer and sheltered her within her arms. "You're okay, it's over now, you're okay." And she'd repeat those words for as long as she could. As long as it took for them to feel real. 

————————————

   Cassie was still getting accustomed to the whole private jet thing. It felt too classy, even if half the participants aboard had already slipped off their shoes and curled up under a blanket. Sometime she'd have to find wherever that stash of linens was. Though, for now, she was preparing herself for an earful. Gideon was moving from his seat to her end of the plane. He was at least kind enough to ensure the only one listening was Elle. To which Cassie couldn't mind too much, she felt a sort of solidarity in their methods, so hopefully the other brunette wouldn't be too abrasive in the aftermath of her scolding. 

  "You really think he beat her?" 

  "What?" 

  She had always been told to never play poker. Which was a sad comment given she was actually great at the game, just not great at her expressions. She could hold out in situations that called for a stern, unwavering face. But right here, right now, she was too wound up to keep her feelings to herself. Crinkled features gave a pretty good indication that she was absolutely taken aback. 

  "I asked a question Lorayne." 

  "Err, honestly? No. She didn't give away all of the signs, just some. Some is enough to incite a thought, and a thought is enough to be a fear. Even if he hadn't, she had rationalized that he could. Or, would, if she crossed a certain line." 

  "Alright." 

  "Alright?" 

  Gideon turned to sit down, he was done with the conversation. She'd outstretch a hand to say something else, but recoiled and changed her mind. 

  JJ had an open seat across from her, and Cassie would find comfort in the openness that followed.  

  "Have any of you been told about the time that Gideon was tricked into. . ." 

  So, this was her new home. For lack of a better phrase. It would take some time to fit in, and more effort still. Though, Cassie was able to let go of her fear for just a moment. It was the first time that day she had stopped thinking about the past, and hoped for the future. 

 ———————————— 

Date Posted: 04/24/24  

Not Yet Proofread, too lazy :(.

Next Chapter: 05/02/24

#criminal minds #bau team #spencer reid #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #elle greenaway #jj jareau #dr spencer reid #oc #original character #multifandom account #x reader #jason gideon #hannibal lecter

[dedkake]

birthday bash 2023 works | the ao3 collection

we had a blast this year. see all the works below the cut <3

fic

Accepting a Complement by WonkyElk | 1k, g, mcshep He wasn’t sure exactly when he and Sheppard had become ‘those two’ or ‘you two’ or ‘that pair’ to so many people. But, now that the phrase had jumped up and bit him, so to speak, he was very aware that he had heard it too many times to count. exposed by dedkake | 1k, m, mcshep Two moments in time: then and now Or, No matter the fact that his subconscious has been keeping the score for him, it’s clear as day what it all adds up to. Missing by Goddess47 | <1k, t, mcshep "Stupid gate!" Rodney whined. "Come on! You should work!" He banged a fist on the inside of the DHD. Transporters: or It’s All Fun and Games Until Someone Sets Your DNA to “Shuffle’ by WonkyElk | 2k, t, mcshep Elizabeth had been a little dazzled by the transporter technology at the start - it was difficult not to be - but there was so much to do, and to think about, that they had quickly been downgraded in her consciousness to little more than remarkably efficient elevators. Constantly tripping over her own child-like wonder would hardly have been conducive to a strong and effective leadership. Nowadays, the only time that they really registered as anything out of the ordinary was when they went wrong. When the Moon Hits Your Eye by portlandwithyou | <1k, g, mcshep Sheppard and McKay are stranded on a distant beach. Exploring by Goddess47 | <1k, t, mcshep Pegasus was more black and white than gray, John quickly learned. You’ve been the North Star (where the light’s from) by puddlejumperpilot | 2k, t, rodney / john /radek Rodney never thought he'd be dating two people at the same time. aka Rodney muses over his partners and how exactly they ended up there. Further Adventures in Maple Syrup by WonkyElk | 2k, t, mcshep John woke to a high bright sun battering its rays insistently through the window, the ungentle pouncing of cats, and the clatter of a frantic vampire. Of snakes and safe harbours by Mas_Pebbles_Sharp | <1k, m, multi Elizabeth scratches a couple of itches. short notice by dedkake | <1k, t, ronon / teyla / rodney / john Two week suspension from active duty. Mandatory leave for mental health; off base. Follow-up required. or, instead of splitting up during Brain Storm, the team take a trip to the mainland together. a two nap kind of day by dedkake | <1k, g, mcshep The blankets shift violently, parting to reveal John’s impressive bedhead, rumpled uniform, and colossal scowl. “I’m tired.” or, John's found a new place to hide out. Helping Hands by halestrom | 2k, g, gen Post-Trio, Rodney needs some help even if asking for help is the last thing he wants to do. Thankfully, he doesn't need to ask at all. Two Truths and One Lie by melagan | 2k, g, mcshep During an off-world ceremony, AR-1 is asked to reveal one lie each. Backup Plans by LogicGunn | 4k, g, gen For TwoTales, who had thoughts about a Laura Cadman and Rodney McKay High School Tap Dancing Competition AU.

Opposite to Blue by WonkyElk | 1k, g, mcshep The first time that John had met Rodney McKay he had been brightly, regrettably, orange. Searching for Sleep by Tazmy | <1k, g, gen Rodney’s on day 14 of little sleep. Ronon has a plan. Can be read as either Rodney & Ronon or as Rodney/Ronon. Your choice. 200 words for the SGA server birthday bash You’re the reason I don’t want the world to end by puddlejumperpilot | 7k, t, mcshep Two missing scenes from the second episode of each season. aka McShep over the years. Stop Talking! by Tazmy | 26k, t, multi Rodney knew better than to mess with the Ancient counseling device, but talking to a hologram version of Heightmeyer helped him feel better. Now, drugged by the device, Rodney is compelled to share his innermost secrets to those nearby, and his thoughts are much darker than anyone expected. Response to birthday bash prompt. There are two ways this can go: (1) Rodney must both share his feelings for John and admit the truth about his darkest thoughts or (2) The device will destroy him. Operation Retrieve John’s Heart by Tazmy | <1k, g, mcshep John's always been lonely. Two chapter story, each chapter a double drabble for the SGA fanart server birthday bash! Keeping Secrets by Goddess47 | <1k, t, mcshep It wasn't the sort of talent that one showed off, Chuck had learned as a small child. It was something personal, secret. Doctor’s Orders by Goddess47 | <1k, t, mcshep "You needed to abstain from coffee!" Carson said firmly. "Dinna you understand?" There was Only One… Wait— Two Beds? by pinkoptics | 2k, g, mcshep A bit of silly fun at this trope’s expense. Dear prompter, I hope you like it! The one where Rodney freaks out that there are two beds instead of one.

The Second Name by scifi_dancer | <1k, g, mcshep How the hell had Rodney gotten the printout? Chuck’s Intergalactic Delivery Service and Confessional, A 5+1 Fic by MalihiniMoon and Tazmy | 4k, t, mcshep A 5+1 fic. When the intergalactic bridge connected, allowing quick travel through the Stargate, it only made sense they’d use it to order pizza. It all snowballed from there. You Kissed Me by mific | <1k, g, mcshep Like Phantoms, but with kissing. light switch by dedkake | <1k, g, gen "Shoot me."

other media

Cover Art for “Ink and Wings” [Podfic and Fic] by cassiope25 | mcshep Cover Art for Itstartedwithalex's podfic and an illustration for "Ink and Wings" by spurious. Author's summary: It’s simply not possible. This is what Rodney tells himself for two and a half days after he sees what he thinks is a butterfly tattoo on Major John Sheppard’s thigh. [Podfic] Disposable by Itstartedwithalex | mcshep "Never thought I'd see any of you again." Podfic of "Disposable" by spurious Cover Art for “Disposable” [Podfic and Fic] by cassiope25 | mcshep Cover art for Itstartedwithalex's podfic and an illustration for "Disposable" by spurious. Author's summary: "Never thought I'd see any of you again." Spaghetti for Two by scifi_dancer | fanart, mcshep Spaghetti for two (mcshep) [Podfic] it could’ve started like this, season 2 by Itstartedwithalex | mcshep A McShep get-together per episode. Each fic is written as a missing scene and completely independent of the others. Podfic of season 2 of dedkake's "it could've started like this" Cover Art for “it could have started like this, season 2” [Podfic and Fic] by cassiope25 | mcshep Cover Art for Itstartedwithalex's podfic series and an illustration for the fic "it could have started like this, season 2" by dedkake Author's summary: A McShep get-together per episode. Each fic is written as a missing scene and completely independent of the others. Season 2 [Podfic] Divorce and Soggy Pizza by Itstartedwithalex | mcshep There was something very vulnerable about John standing barefoot in his kitchen with his hair more ruffled than usual, and his thin pyjamas hanging loosely off him. Rondey found that he wanted to push back at the image. Press John back into his role as the unassailable lieutenant colonel and all around ‘cool guy’. “Any other words of wisdom from my heartbreak guru?” he asked John, letting a little of the sneer through in his voice. OR: In the wake of his divorce, Rodney seeks out Sheppard. Podfic of "Divorce and Soggy Pizza" by missmariie Cover Art for “Divorce and Soggy Pizza” [Podfic and Fic] by cassiope25 | mcshep Cover Art for Itstartedwithalex's podfic and an illustration for the fic "Divorce and Soggy Pizza" by missmariie. Author's summary: There was something very vulnerable about John standing barefoot in his kitchen with his hair more ruffled than usual, and his thin pyjamas hanging loosely off him. Rondey found that he wanted to push back at the image. Press John back into his role as the unassailable lieutenant colonel and all around ‘cool guy’. “Any other words of wisdom from my heartbreak guru?” he asked John, letting a little of the sneer through in his voice. OR: In the wake of his divorce, Rodney seeks out Sheppard. [podfic] Operation Retrieve John’s Heart by Tazmy | mcshep This is a podfic and cover art of my story Operation Retrieve John's Heart. John's always been lonely. A story told in two chapters, each chapter a double drabble for the SGA birthday bash Let me go by mific | gen, fanart “Rodney,” Sheppard said quietly. “Let me go.” “Shut the fuck up.” “Rodney, we’re both going to fall,” Sheppard said urgently. “If you keep wriggling like a stupid fish on a line, we will.” “Rodney, let me go.” He craned his head and smiled. “It’s okay.” Two Podfics: Do Not Open and Empty Stars by Tazmy | mcshep Two podfics of two episode tags, each focusing on John's darker side. Do Not Open - Tag for Miller's Crossing. John reflects on his feelings for Rodney and why he could not let Rodney sacrifice himself. Answers such questions as why did McKay need to use someone else's key card. Empty Stars - Tag for The Eye. John reflects on his past actions while seeing how torture affects McKay. Cover Art for Two Podfics: “Do Not Open” and “Empty Stars” [Podfics and Fics] by cassiope25 | mcshep Cover Art for two of Tazmy's podfics and an illustration for her stories "Do Not Open" and "Empty Stars". Author's summary Two podfics of two episode tags, each focusing on John's darker side.

#stargate atlantis #fic #fanart #podfic #various ships #<333 #thank you to everyone for participating! #<33

[puredramione]

Why do you ship dramione? I don't get it.

I have debated answering this ask for quite some time. However, I am going to be optimistic and assume that you are inquiring why I ship dramione out of pure curiosity.

If not, then please ignore this post as life is really too short to be sat worrying about what someone else is doing with their time. I apologise this may be lengthy.

Now let’s start with how I got into dramione. My friends at school were constantly talking about fanfiction, at the time I was solely a book reader, iPads and tablets didn’t have the lovely new book smell I craved so I didn’t pay it much attention. I read some fanfiction in 2012, mostly as a dare, I had to read a Snape/Hedwig fanfic, that to this day has really “scarred” me. But to each their own. I admire the creativity of that person.

I started reading dramione in 2013, after much debate about what I should read, I had listed majority of the ship names in my head and “dramione” just sounded right. Like that way you feel when the sun hits you. I cannot be certain of what the first fic I read was now. But I know the first multi-chapter I loved was Isolation by bex-chan.

Now, the reason why I ship it, apart from the nice, insanely talented and just freaking amazing people this fandom has? I would say the end products. I can’t even imagine how these people do it but they do and it’s incredible.

I mean why dramione? Great question, but I don’t actually think I have an answer. Is it possible because I’m a hopeless romantic that would love the idea of someone changing their entire belief system to just be with me? Maybe. Do I like to read that someone can love someone despite knowing all the terrible things they’ve done but decide fuck it? However I think I just always love the stories of characters that just shouldn’t work but do, and do so incredibly.

I see a lot of the times people saying that it’s disgusting shipping dramione cause Draco bullied Hermione, that the idea sickens them. However I think we forget that Hermione isn’t a perfect saint either. Girl physically attacked him and in a way fucked with him psychologically in the books.

And not to get too personal. But I’ve been bullied, and not just name calling etc. At school I would eat lunch in toilets (I know how hygienic?). I went out with a boy who hurt me cause I didn’t know any better. But the difference is….this is fictional. It isn’t intended to hurt someone, if anything these works have brought me immense joy when I was at my lowest and maybe that’s the reason why I ship dramione.

(This is where I’m going to do some shout outs, please only spread love and appreciation, NO HATE!)

We have insanely amazing writers (in no particular order):

@ambpersand / @lovesbitca8 / @senlinyu / @indreamsink / @heyjude19-writing / @galfoy / @willhavetheirtrinkets / @mightbewriting / @colubrina / @cleotheo / @floorcoaster / @pacific-rimbaud / everythursday 💔 (I miss H&V everyday) / @rizzlewrites / @misdemeanor1331 / @ravenslightwrites / @magicaltraveler3

The incredible artists of this fandom:

@avendell / @jaxx-in-a-box / @nikitajobson / @enselius / @darrusha-art / @keerthi-draws / @ladykenz347 / @mia-moriarty-art / @abrilas-art / @efinna / @artfleureia / @ayaka-arts

And honestly any creator that contributes to this fandom, they have helped me during some bad times personally with their works and I’ll always appreciate that!

And honestly I can’t even begin to write how lucky I feel to be part of a fandom with these incredible people to look up to. So if you’re interested jump in and enjoy the ride, if you’re not then I hope you find your passion and it’s just as good. We all deserve to find those things in life that bring us joy.

#ask #dramione

[writtenonreceipts]

Hi friend! How are you? Do you have recs for multi-chapters fics? Tog, acotar, even hp fanfics! I need something new to read. Sorry if I'm asking you too much, I had a long week and I need to relax but don't know what to look for ahah

hey, hey! i was a little under the weather this week, but it's fine. I have so many reccs. Here we go...Also, I am bound to miss people, so I’ll probably reblog with other stories too...

TOG

@morganofthewildfire--She has so many great fics to read.  As far as Multi-Chaps go; Same Time Thursday, Ivy, The Lucky One are some of my faves. She brings the angst, so be prepared

@shyvioletcat-- I love her fics.  you have no idea.  They are some of my go to comfort fic.  It Takes Two and Striking Matches have been the two that I reread all the time.  Some others that I love are The Calling, Smile, Touch & Go--really you can’t go wrong with any of her fics

@westofmoon--Retellings/AU galore. “Blood and Bone” is a Mummy AU, “The Heartbeat of Stars” is a Sci-fi fic, awesome moodboards and drabbles that I love.

@elentiyawhitethorn--Love, love, love. “You’re A Mystery to Me” is so great and you can tell the work she puts into it--its a mystery in the veins of Scooby Doo and it is the best thing ever. She has a lot of great fics to read in TOG and ACOTAR world

@sassyhobbits--had multiple TOG fics--”One Night Standards” and “Growth” are completed.  Misery Business is an ongoing Rowaelin that’s off to a great start.

@thewraithsofmorhogg--”Noisy Neighbors” is the holy order of slow burn

@imaginedhaven -- “Reluctantly Rooming” and “Call it What You Will” are so, so good.

@highqueenofelfhame -- i love em. she has so many fics to read. “Far Away From Sane” has murder mischief and pain.

@live-the-fangirl-life -- fluff master extraordinaire.  A World Away and I Dig you are two super fun reads.  She has so many other multi-parts and oneshots both in TOG and ACOTAR, seriously.  you need to read her stuff.

@punkassbookjockey26-- Of Authors and Angels! Such a great fic.

@whimsicallyreading--I love Val.  She is a delight.  “Dark Roast No Sugar” and “If I Had A Heart” are so so so good.  Seriously.

@tomtenadia--”A Little Braver” and “Island Of Dreams” <3

@talkfantasytome--she writes both TOG and ACOTAR--love love love her fics.  “How Could They Not,” “Model Students,” “Staghorn Slopes”

ACOTAR

@c-e-d-dreamer-- Nessian galore.  “Let Our Hearts, Like Doors, Open Wide” and “And They Were Roommates,” and “Who’s Counting” are all so great

@tealnymph24--love love love love.  Gwynriel fics for your hearts content. “A Song of Shadows” especially

@moononastring--lots of elucien to choose from, she also writes and ErisxOC fic if you’re interested in that “Shadow Meets Bone”

@the-lonelybarricade-- “A Court of Faded Dreams” is her current fic in progess, it’s a timetravel/rewrite <3 love it.

@julemmaes--i can’t pick just one fic, there are so many great things to choose from from both fandoms--seriously, you can’t go wrong.

@thegloweringcastle--”The Law of the Land” is so good!!

@mmvalentine--has a lot of great fics

Linkr--i think is just on AO3, but has a fic called 8:55 that is super, super good

@nomattertheoceans--has a fic called staying afloat that is great

Harry Potter--admittedly, I am not as active in this fandom as others, but I have my faves that I love

@petalstofish--this is her AO3, Sarah is so awesome.  I love following her, love reading her works.  She is a delight.

clarewithnoi--on ao3 “New Age Romancing” is hilarious, told completely in the form of texts. love it

@missgryffin--has lots of jily to read! I am massively behind, but I’m excited to read Secret Keeper!

BeeDaily--Commentarius is kinda on an endless hiatus, but it is no less wonderful to read, hilarious and so fun

#fics #fic reccomendations #fanfictopn #throne of glass #tog #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #harry potter

[layanasstories]

For my dear friend.

This person knows that I am talking to them.

As promised... your early Christmas Gift! What started as an idea for a one shot, ended up as a multi part fan fic, 5 parts to be exact. I really hope you enjoy this one.

With love, Layanasstories.

--

Lost and Found

Part 1

I'm hanging at the bar with my umpteenth drink in front of me. It was how long? One, two weeks? I don't remember very well, nor do I care much. Probably because of the amount of alcohol I've had. And so it goes every night these days. I come here with a stabbing pain in my heart and leave the bar numb. I look up when my glass is taken way and a cup of coffee is put down. "Hej! I hadn't ffinisshed that sjet!" I protest while trying to sit up straight, but the bartender doesn't care. "You've had enough Layana. You had the chance to wallow for two weeks, now it's time to put yourself together again". "Iff I can't trink anymore, can you be my dissstrasion?" I slur my words while fluttering my eyes at Phil. "Oh, god no. Not in the state you are in right now". He pulls up his nose in disgust but I can see his eyes are full of pity. “I know it hard you lost Richy, Layana. But you can’t keep on going like this.” He tries to encourage me, but to no avail. Due to his words I feel the tears well up. “It is not just Richy. Someone else got lost too you know. A friend.” Even though the alcohol had hit me hard I still was able to choose my words carefully. As long as I don’t know if he survived or not, I will not speak of his name to people who doesn’t know him. “I am sorry to hear that. But still, I believe your friend nor Richy would have wanted you to get wasted all the time, to sooth the pain”. He sighs walks around the bar and sits on the empty barstool, next to me. He gently puts his hand on my shoulder “Listen, drink the coffee and then I will bring you back to where you are staying, okay?”. I make a noise that sounded something like ‘sure’ and I nod.

It's amazing what can happen in a few weeks time. I started a new case, somehow this has become a thing for me, solving crimes. It wasn’t a big one, something was stolen and I found it back within a few days. The plus was that I got paid for solving it. Also I don’t drink as much as I did before. Ironically thanks to Phil. He banded me from visiting the Aurora during the weekdays. He only allowed me to visit the bar if I worked for my drinks. So, I worked on Friday and Saturday nights, then at the last hour before closing, I was able to take my spot at the bar to enjoy my well earned drinks. Yes, he even would mix me the most weird or special mixes for me. Besides that we talked during the moments I was working at the bar, we also texted almost daily. He grew on me, more then I expected. Sure he is the womanizer as the guys from the group already had said, back then. But most of the time only when he is at the bar, as if it is a image he has to hold high. The eternal bachelor, who does his own thing whenever he wants, it suits him. I'm glad he's not looking for a steady relationship or a relationship at all. Because I am not looking for anything like that. That doesn’t mean we don’t flirt on occasion. It’s a fun game to play but we both know not to go to far with it. Okay, maybe one time we crossed that line and we ended up almost kissing.

I am standing in front of my coatrack to get my jacket. It’s Friday evening, just past diner time, so I am getting ready to go to the Aurora. But suddenly there is a hard knock on my door that startled me. I don’t expect anyone so I peek trough the hole in my door to see two police officers waiting. Carefully I open up. “Good evening officers, what can I do for you?” I ask them when I open the door slowly. “Good evening miss, we are looking for Ms. Layana Schmidt.” Both had taken their hats off and the more senior one spoke. “That’s me.” I answer them but I am still a bit wary because I still no idea why they are here. “We are only here to deliver this to you.” The other officer hands me an envelope. They both put back their hats on, tap it and say goodbye. As soon as I closed my front door I open the envelope. Shocked I look at the paper in hand, my hands start shaking and my breathing stops. I read aloud almost in a whisper. The State vs Mr. Jake Samuel Hernandez (defendant). Subpoena to testify in trail in a criminal case. To Ms. Layana Schmidt. You are commanded to appear in the State court at the time, date and place shown below to testify in this criminal case. When you arrive, you must remain at the court until the judge or a court officer allows you to leave. I didn't even realize that I had stood against the wall in the hallway, in tears I sink to the floor and sit down. After weeks I had the answer, he is alive. But he had failed to shake off his pursuers. And now I'm being subpoenaed to testify against him. Feeling the panic creeping up, I frantically try to grab my phone. It's only in moments like this that you actually know who your friends really are. Because there's nobody but one that I can turn to. I haven’t spoken to anyone of the group since the happening in the mine. It seemed like they had forgotten about me the moment they had their Hannah back, and lost their Richy.

Layana: Hey Phil, I am not sure if I can make it tonight.

I thought it was best to cancel. I can't fake a smile and act happy. And how the hell am I going to explain to Phil why I got the subpoena. I can't say anything about Jake and what his whereabouts are. Phil is the last person Jake would want to see. Let alone that Phil knows about Jake's existence and his criminal activities. I imagine Jake's expression as I walk into the courtroom with Phil by my side. Disgust? Betrayal? Confusion? Probably all three. Although Phil is the only friend I have right now and I don't know if I can handle this alone. At this point, Jake doesn't have much to say. If he wants to get out, he should accept what is being done for him.

I'm pulled out of my thoughts by a message from Phil.

Phil: Hey. What’s up?

Layana: I don’t know how to tell this on the phone.

Phil: You’re are okay?

Layana: Yes, I am okay. Nothing bad happened. It’s just…

Phil: It’s just??

Phil: Just come to the Aurora, you don’t have to worry about working.

Phil: Let just talk about what’s going on before opening. And then we will see.

Layana: Thanks Phil.

Phil: No problem ;)

#duskwood #duskwood everbyte #duskwood jake #duskwood game #duskwood mc #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood jake x player #iamjake #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood fandom #duskwood phil x player #duskwood phil x mc #duskwood phil

[bee-dot-exe]

Hello hello hello! I'm so sorry I've kinda been sometimes neglecting writing this month. It's been absolutely insane like mentally and I haven't had the motivation for anything.

But I'm here now, and here's what I'm gonna do, I'm gonna do a multi prompt fic that includes some of prison, death, Ghostboo, and limbo all in this one. Then I don't know how exactly I'll write for revival seeing as it hasn't happened and I don't wanna make assumptions I guess, but I might post a little something on Halloween.

Thank you so much for reading anything I've done, for understanding why there are gaps and coming back anyway, and for making this list and letting me be part of it, this is absolutely not the last thing I'll write and I'd love for anyone to send requests or make comments, because I really do love doing this. @especdreamy

Ranboo Catch Up

743 words

Mentions of panic, mentions of death/description of dying, hinted at mentions of auditory hallucinations

I'm okay.

Everything's okay.

I'm not there.

The blocks are the same but the room is different.

I can't hear him.

I can't hear anything.

I'm trapped. I'm trapped. I'm trapped.

The wall broke. There was a flash of a pickaxe. It's owner was in front of my vision if only for a moment. I had too many questions but I didn't know if I wanted an answer to any of them. So I just followed like a sheep.

And then we were swimming in a sea of orange and yellow. I could hear the alarm slowly fade. And I could hear him. But it wasn't in my head. Nothing was.

Too many people. Too many voices. Too many weapons.

"Come here, Ranboo, come look at this before you go."

Sam.

Michael.

"Why do you have this?"

"Why do you think I have it? Come and stand on stage, Ranboo, come over here. Why don't you give me your armor?"

This isn't real. It can't be. It shouldn't be.

And yet.

The protective layers of purple came off bit by bit.

"What are you doing? Keep that on! Why are you doing this?"

"He has Michael."

"Dream, come back here, come back or he dies."

"I don't care if he dies!"

"Sam, you have the wrong hostage, no!"

There was a face with black eyes surrounded by green and gold, a moment of pain under my eyes from tears adding to the collection of scars, a moment of pain in my chest, a moment of blood rushing through my ears, then nothing.

After regaining all my senses and control of my body, I found myself surrounded by a sea of grey and blue, seemingly endless.

Above me was a similarly colored sky, an array of bright freckles painting its dull canvas.

There was something under my feet, something solid, a block of dirt and grass, only enough room to stand in place on.

There was no use in asking questions. No use in looking for answers. No use is yelling for help.

But there was an unfamiliar weight in my pocket. A book and quill. Maybe there was a use.

Nothing was different. Not really. Maybe my skin looked a little different. Maybe there was a duel colored gash taking space of about half my chest. Maybe everything felt almost lighter. But nothing was different. Not really.

Except maybe this. A journal. "Do Not Read."

I opened the first page, something was calling me, a sort of connection drawing me to write.

"Hello."

"Hello? Who are you?"

"The part of you that's missing."

"Where am I? Where is everyone?"

"You are dead."

"Oh... who are you?"

"Like I said, the part of you that's missing, that's currently experiencing everything afterwords."

"Where am I?"

"You are where your soul was before and where it will be for the foreseeable future. I wouldn't worry however, as I know that people here get revived easily. However, you will feel the emotional pain of every experience that I have."

Tubbo.

Tommy.

Michael.

"Is that what those words are?Everything people are saying?"

"Yes. I'm sorry."

"Are they okay?"

Aimee.

Techno.

Eret.

"Yes. They're safe. In their own ways."

"Good. So I shouldn't be here for long?"

"Everyone cares about you. So you won't be. I'll try to numb the pain as much as I can."

"Thank you."

Wilbur.

Niki.

Fundy.

"Hello?"

"Hello."

"It hurts."

"I know. I'm sorry for how I acted in the beginning. I wasn't aware how much it affected you."

"What exactly are you?"

"I'm you. Just. Without a heart metaphorically speaking. However, I/you have such a moral based mindset that I'm still trying to understand right and wrong. In a sense, I'm still you, you're still me, we're still each other."

"This is confusing."

"I know. Don't worry. It won't be for much longer."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Jack.

Sam.

Sapnap.

"Hello?"

"Hello. I'm not sure what's happening. I thought that we would've been back by now."

"Is he trying?"

"No. I haven't heard from him in weeks. I'm in the mansion now. I only really leave to look after Michael. I'm sorry. I know this must be painful."

"It is."

"I'll find something that can help you soon. I'm trying."

Karl.

Connor.

Dream.

"Why did you lie?"

"I didn't want to. I thought it would protect you."

I look pale. I look sick. I look like I died.

But I'm okay.

Everything's okay.

#mcyt #dsmp #ranboo #creative writing #cranbootober

[lnights]

I hope you feel better ! if you're still looking for fluffy prompt, what about something with Joel/joonas/Aleksi where Joel has been in love with joonas for a while, but he's convinced his feelings could never be returned, and now joonas and Aleksi get together he thinks nothing will ever happen between them but suddenly joonas and Aleksi do their best to show him they have room in their hearts for him?

*Looks up from my vampire fic where that is the pairing and squints*

Ok so as I was writing this it's giving me multi-chapter brainworms (not a big one, maybe just like 3 chapters?) I feel like this idea requires more thought and time then I put into these mini fics

...

Joel was chain smoking and he didn't care who knew.

They had been playing truth or dare, all of them drinking and relaxing at Niko's place, when Joonas had been asked if he was seeing someone.

He had known in the deepest part of his heart, what the answer would be.

You would have to be deaf and blind to miss the sweet conversations, the small touches, the look of pure love between them...

Hell, they had done a video with Aleksi in Joonas's lap!

So Joonas telling the band they were officially together really wasn't a shock.

But it HURT.

He had been in love with Joonas since they had first met in high school, had reveled in every moment they spent together.

He knew his best friend, his twin, didn't feel the same about him. There's no way he could, being so vibrant and full of life and rarely angry while Joel's head like to mess with him and make him crabby and grumpy.

But Joonas didn't have a whole lot of relationships, despite what people thought of them when he committed to someone he committed with his whole heart and he didn't do it that often.

And now his heart was committed to Aleksi.

Joel took a deep drag, he knew he would have to go back in soon or risk someone coming out to get him, but he knew right now he would either cry or shout.

He couldn't blame the DJ for falling for Joonas, and he couldn't blame Joonas for falling for him either. He was funny, calming, and if Joel was willing to admit it to himself... very attractive.

He hadn't know Aleksi nearly as long, but he had found a way into his heart as well.

And it felt torn to pieces.

They would be a good match, he despaired, trying to make himself happy for his friends rather then wallow in his own misery.

Maybe some good lyrics will at least come out of this, he thought, Niko might be willing to help him get it out.

The door opened behind him and two sets of footsteps approached him.

He closed his eyes as he got a glimpse of familiar golden curls on one side of him and soft black hair on the other.

He heard Joonas light his own cigarette and take a drag before talking.

"You alright?" He asked quietly.

Joel nodded, not opening his eyes "maybe drank a bit too much, I'm getting old."

The both laughed a bit at his comment, but then they lapsed back into silence.

Joel almost jumped out of his skin when he felt an arm go around his waist, another rubbing his back.

"We weren't planning to tell anyone yet." Aleksi said quietly, "we wanted to talk to you first."

Joel opened his eyes in shock, turning to the younger man. "Why?"

Surely they hadn't realized how he felt about Joonas? He had done his best to hide it, treat him like anyone else-

"It's ok." Joonas said softly, "If you aren't interested in this at all, we can just forget about it..."

"We're both interested in you." Aleksi finished, "if you would want, we'd like to take you out."

His cigarette forgotten he looked between the two of them wildly, Joonas's face soft and open, Aleksi's with a small smile and an encouraging look.

Joel couldn't comprehend what was being said to him.

"Why?" He asked, "you two have each other? I don't understand..."

Joonas took a deep breath, "I've loved you since the first time we jammed in high school," gave a shaky laugh, "I didn't think you felt the same..."

"I finally pointed it out to him about a month ago." Aleksi added, "as for me... I started falling for both of you when we met at the BMTH concert."

"We ended up talking a lot." Joonas took over, "we realized we cared for each other as well as you. If you're not interested that's ok, it won't change anything-"

Joel stubbed out his cigarette and turned to Joonas, pulling him into a close hug, burying his face in his neck.

He couldn't believe it, it wasn't possible that not just one, but both of them were wanting him with them...

He felt a very tentive touch to his side and he pulled an arm away from Joonas to wrap Aleksi close, sighing at the feeling of both of them holding him.

He didn't know how long it would last, but he would take the opportunity as long as he could.

#answered asks #im an awkward 🦇 #mini fic

[novamirmirsblog]

Favourite crime pt 2

Natasha Romanoff x reader

Word Count: 2936

Genre: angsty fluff? or fluffy angst 👀

Request: yes

Warnings: swearing, mentions of cheating, slight coercion into sex (it doesn't happen tho)

Part 1 is here

A/n: The long awaited part two is officially here. I had lots of people who wanted the reader to move on, people who wanted them to get back together and people who wanted both. Thank you everyone for your INDECISIVENESS (kidding. ily). Also Emma was a randomly generated name - I'm sorry :3

Did I write this fic instead of sleeping? Yes. I have no regrets.

It had been a year since you moved back home. The seasons had come and gone and with that, so had your thoughts of Natasha. The same could not be said for the assassin. She had spent a blissful 3 months with Bruce before he had dropped off the face of the Earth and she was missing you. By the 5th month, she had stopped moping about and tried to find you. She searched everywhere but your town was large and unfamiliar and you didn’t want to be found.

Natasha both regretted what she had said and didn't. She regretted it because she realised just how much she adored you once she saw all the areas Bruce fell short in. You knew her better than she sometimes knew herself. You knew when to back off and when to put pressure on. You knew when she needed control and when you needed to take control. You knew when she wanted ice cream or when she wanted brownies. Bruce didn't. However, a part of her didn't regret those nasty things she said because she really didn't deserve you. You were everything she wasn’t, and she didn't know how to measure up to you.

She never voiced these concerns and so they festered and grew until she believed the only way out was to cheat. She knew that was the only thing that could drive you away. Natasha had told you all about her past, how she believed the Red Room had stripped her of her humanity – of her choice whether to become a mother. She knew there were other ways to have children - of course there were, but she hated the fact they had taken that option from her.

You were not like Natasha. You voiced your concerns which is why she knew exactly what to say and do to get you to hate her. Your previous boyfriend had cheated on you with your once best friend. You had watched as your father cheated on your mother and how that made her a hollow shell for a while, her never understanding why the man she loved could hurt her in that way. Supposedly, everyone models their future relationships on what their parents’ relationship looked like. Perhaps that’s why you kept choosing the cheaters. You were content with where you were. You had a forest, a busy town, and a beach all within a 15-mile radius of your house. You were far enough from civilisation that you could forget about reality for a while but close enough to occasionally dip back in whenever you wanted to.

You had kept in contact with Tony and Pepper, congratulating them on the arrival of Morgan and insisting that they should visit. You also continued to occasionally talk to Wanda when Carol was off world. Carol was overjoyed when she found out you had started dating someone new.

You had met Emma when you were taking a dip back into reality at the local supermarket. Her blonde hair vaguely reminded you of a woman you used to know, and you guessed that’s why you felt drawn to her. It wasn’t the electrical crackle that stole your breath away like your first meeting with Natasha, but it was something. Emma could occasionally be a little controlling, but you guessed that’s what normal relationships were like. She didn’t like you going to bars or pubs anymore and you certainly weren’t allowed in any clubs. You didn’t mind it too much as you hardly minded giving up a few nights out if it meant you could have something that resembled normalcy.

“Who’s that?” Emma asked, your face illuminated from your phone as the ding rang out.

“A friend. He’s bringing his wife and new baby over tomorrow and was reminding me to baby-proof the house.” You smiled lightly as you texted Tony back. You hadn’t mentioned to Emma that you were an ex-avenger, but it just kept slipping your mind.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Who is he? Where will he be staying?”

“I just forgot. Sorry. He’ll be staying here.”

“But you only have a single bed.”

“Yeah. I was planning to sleep on that and Tony, Pepper and the baby can stay in my room.”

“You mean our room.”

You said nothing, too engrossed in arguing with Tony about how under no circumstances will there be any celery in your house. Apparently, that was the wrong thing to do.

“Our room, right Y/n?”

“Um yeah.” You wave her off was apparently your second mistake, but you didn’t multi-task too well and so half answers were all you were good for while texting.

“I have been your girlfriend for 3 months Y/n. The least you could do is answer me properly and tell me what’s going on in your life.” She huffed, pushing your feet from her lap, and turning to face away from you, all of which you missed. You really weren’t having that evil green vegetable in your house.

“Seriously, what is even so important that you’re ignoring me right now!” Emma’s voice cut through the fog, and you looked at her with a blank expression. It was times like these that you really missed Na- No. You refused to go there. You didn’t miss her. You were over her.

“No celery.”

Emma threw her hands up in the air. “You seriously don’t see what’s wrong, do you?”

“No.” You tilted your head, confused at what your girlfriend was talking about.

“Well, I’m not just going to tell you! Jesus. You should know. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Emma stood up in a huff, making a lot of noise while getting ready to leave.

“Okay – bye” Your attention was bought back to the phone when Tony sent you a cute video of Morgan crawling about, probably as a bribe to get you to buy celery. You stood, watching the video a few times before you shut off your phone, finally getting around to babyproofing your house.

~~~~~

Babyproofing a house was a lot more work than you originally thought. You had spent most the night picking sharp objects up from baby-height areas and making sure you hadn’t left any weapons about. All the guns taped under tables had to be relocated and you found enough change to set you up for retirement. You just hoped and prayed there were no small beads for Morgan to choke on. You didn’t even get around to putting soft corners on the edges of tables and counter tops, but you told yourself that it was survival of the fittest at that point. The whole endeavour had taken most the night which is how you found yourself with only an hour till Tony, Pepper and Morgan arrived.

There was a knock on the door, and you saw that you were 15 minutes late. Luckily your girlfriend had arrived half an hour before so you figured she could let them in. You shouted down, telling her to get the door as you finished putting on your socks.

“Hiya baby!” You cooed at Morgan babbling in Pepper’s arms, watching as her chubby hands reached for your hair, grabbing on with a crazy amount of strength. “Oh my god you’re strong. Pep, are you sure she’s Tony’s? I’m pretty sure she’s as strong as Thor.” You laughed, looking over at Tony. Your face dropped into careful neutrality as you saw the redhead standing behind him.

“Of course she’s mine doofus. We had multiple paternity tests.” Tony winked.

You didn’t know what to do. You weren’t ready. Your throat went dry as you asked if anyone wanted any drinks, your girlfriend waving them into the living room. You prepared the drinks, and you felt a presence behind you, wrapping their arms around your waist, their head resting on your back. You hated it. You felt suffocated. You took a breath and handed half the drinks to Emma, opting to grab a wine glass and fill it with the wine you had been saving for a special occasion. It might not have been a special occasion, but you needed something strong to get though the next few hours and you knew this would do the job.

You made your way back into the living room and Tony gestured to Emma “I don’t think we’ve met yet.”

“I’m Emma.”

“Tony. This is Pepper, Morgan and Natasha.” Your heart dropped at the mention of her name, realising that she wasn’t some cruel hallucination but was in fact standing in your living room.

“Sorry. I forgot to introduce you all.” You smiled and took another large swig from your glass.

“Hey how come you’re the only one with alcohol?”

“Because you’re a parent now.” You rolled your eyes at Tony, feeling Natasha stare holes into your face.

“So I need it even more!” Pepper hit Tony as he said that, causing Morgan to laugh.

“Don’t worry about Y/n getting drunk, she can handle her alcohol pretty well.”

“We know.” Natasha finally spoke. Her voice bought back floods of memories and you realised you missed her voice – just the tiniest amount. “Who exactly are you to Y/n?” To anyone else, the question was flippant, like asking about the weather but you, Tony and Pepper could all hear the carefully laced venom within her words and while the question sounded like it was aimed at your girlfriend, you could tell she was speaking to you.

“Where’s Bruce this fine day?” You shot back, not letting Emma speak.

“My question first.” Natasha finally turned her gaze to focus on you.

“Why are you here?” You felt Emma’s arm slither possessively around your waist. Perhaps if it had been another day, you would have appreciated it but right now, you felt like you were drowning. She held you too tight, you couldn’t move.

“Ah.” Natasha wore a smug look on her face and yet her eyes flashed with hurt. You hated that she had found out information you weren’t willing to give.

“Why are you here Agent Romanoff.” You wanted- no needed her to answer you. You needed to know why she came to you. Then you looked at Tony. “Why would you bring her here?” Your voice was level, Morgan was pulling at your leg to get you to pick her up. You used that as an excuse to escape your girlfriend’s grip.

“We need you back.”

“So you bring your baby to try and bribe me back?” You ran a hand through your hair, lightly bouncing Morgan. “That I can understand but why bring her?” You waved at Natasha, feeling both her and Emma’s eyes bore into you.

“She’s part of the team too and you both need to get on.” Pepper said.

“You were in on this too?” Your throat felt tight. You couldn’t breathe properly.

“I’m sorry but who exactly are you?” Emma asked. Natasha scoffed at her, folding her arms, and rolling her eyes.

Everything was a little too loud and muffled. It felt as if you were underwater. The sun was too bright, and it made everything a little too hard to look at. You could see your furniture, but it wouldn’t stay in your brain long enough for you to fully register it. You placed Morgan on the sofa and took a deep breath, closing your eyes to focus. When you opened them again you looked straight at Natasha.

“I am not going to play nice with you. You broke me and now that I’m moving on you suddenly decide to show up? No. I don’t believe it. Why can’t you just let me be happy? Leave me alone. Besides, I thought I was a ‘fun little distraction’.” You spat at Natasha. You were tired of being the bigger person. She had hurt you and you wanted to watch her bleed. It’s why you leant over and kissed Emma harshly, why you let out a slight moan so Natasha could hear. It didn’t matter that it was completely fake because even though you knew you should feel satisfaction at Natasha’s hurt face, the twinge of sadness upset you more than you would have liked.

Natasha knew the kiss was forced. She knew it was, but it didn’t stop the knife digging deeper into her heart. You had moved on and she had to respect that. She had said some awful things to you, and you really did deserve someone much better than her. You stormed out of the house, saying that you were going for a walk, leaving your girlfriend to entertain your guests.

~~~~~

It was dark by the time you got back. You saw Natasha on the sofa and ignored her as you walked straight to the guest bedroom. All you wanted to do was curl up and sleep this horrible day into the past but unfortunately for you, you had a girlfriend sitting on the bed.

“This bed isn’t big enough for-” Emma cut you off with a rough kiss. “Emma not now-”

“Yes now. I want to remind your ex what she’s missing.” Emma went back to kissing you and you wanted to cry. You didn’t like her possessiveness, didn’t like her jealousy. With Natasha that had been fun but with Emma, it made you feel afraid.

“Emma seriously.” You grabbed her wrist, not letting her reach into your underwear.

Emma huffed and stepped back. “What’s your problem?”

“I’m really tired. Can’t we just sleep?”

“It’s your ex, isn’t it? Why is she even here? I can’t believe you were going to just let her stay here and not tell me!”

“I didn’t know she was coming!” You were both stage whispering, conscious of the fact there was a baby that most likely didn’t sleep all that often.

“Then kick her out!”

You said nothing. You couldn’t just kick her out. That wouldn’t be fair.

“Oh my god you still love her. You still love her and she’s in love with someone else. Or she was. Ha.” Emma let out a bark of laughter. “That’s so fucking rich. You know what, crawl back to her but don’t come crying to me when she fucks you over again do you hear me?”

“Emma that’s not- I don’t love her anymore. I hate her. She ruined my life.”

“You truly hate her?” You nodded at her. “Supposedly, you can only truly hate someone if you loved them first. We’re done Y/n”

“Seriously?! What? Because I used to love Natasha? Because I don’t want to have sex with you? Grow up Emma. I’ve loved people before you and at this rate, I’ll love people after you too. I’m tired. I don’t have to have sex with you. You can’t make me.”

“I’m your girlfriend! You’re supposed to want to have sex with me!”

“Well not when I’ve had a long ass day!”

“Guys, I think you might wake Morgan.” You winced a little at the addition of Natasha. You knew this was going to end badly.

“This is my fucking house!” Emma said, not lowering her tone.

“Actually, it’s Y/n’s.” Natasha calmly stated. She really wasn’t going to rise to the bait.

Your girl- sorry- ex-girlfriend, fumed next to you. “You know what? Have her. She’s so screwed over from whatever you pulled that I don’t think she can love anyone ever again anyway.” Emma seethed, grabbing her shoes, and slamming the door on the way out. The sound of baby Morgan crying echoed through the house.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You ran your hand over your face, the exhaustion of the whole day catching up with you.

“No, it’s not. I betrayed your trust over the one thing I knew you couldn’t tolerate. I knew how hurtful cheating is to you and I did it anyway. I know it’s not an excuse, but I guess I just felt like you deserved someone more than me. Someone better.”

You said nothing. You were so so tired. You missed her and it ached, but you couldn’t forget what she had done. “I can’t trust you anymore.”

“I know but please let me try again. Bruce wasn’t worth it. He only made me realise how much I love you.” Tears were filling up Natasha’s beautiful eyes and you could see just how tired she looked.

“I missed you.” You whispered out, not wanting to break whatever was being formed

“I missed you too. So so much.”

“I can’t forgive you. Not yet, but…you can have one more chance Natasha. That’s it. You get one chance at my forgiveness.”

“Okay!” Natasha sniffled slightly “I promise I won’t mess this up.”

“I’m serious Natasha. One chance. I don’t play baseball. There are no three strikes.”

Natasha gingerly reached up to cup your face. “I won’t waste this.”

“Good because I never really stopped loving you and I’d hate to be a simp.”

“I think it’s a little too late for that dove.” Natasha let out a watery laugh.

“Excuse me?” You let out a fake gasp and wiped some of the tears from her cheeks.

“It’s okay, I’ll tell you a secret.” Natasha ushered you to lean closer and you did, she tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and whispered, “I’ve been whipped for you for as long as I can remember.”

You were looking forward to all the ways Natasha was going to make it up to you and hopefully, you’d get to give Bruce a good punch too. You both knew it was going to be a long road ahead but you both felt a little more ready for what lies next.

#natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha x you #natasha romanov x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov #natasha x reader #Tony stark #natasha mcu #mcu imagine #natasha imagine #natasha romanoff imagines #natalia alianovna romanova #pepper potts

[gale-gentlepenguin]

ML Fic: Per-Chat to Dream (Preview)

(So I have been working a bit on this fic idea. Which if you guys like it, I will be willing be setting up as my next big multi chapter fic. So make sure to comment and reblog if you like it.)

_____________________________________________________________

The beeping of the alarm reverberated through the room

"Ugh..."

Adrien's eyes opened lazily.

He sat up and stretched his arms upward as he yawned.

"Morning Plagg." Adrien yawned as he got out of bed.

He sheepishly walked to the bathroom.

"That akuma last night really wrecked my sleep time." Adrien commented as he brushed his teeth. "Don't even remember how we beat it. But at this point, I can take a guess on how."

He finished brushing his pearly whites and quickly tamed his bed head to resemble his trademark hair style.

"I am sure Ladybug is just as tired as I am."

He quickly got dressed and made sure his backpack was packed.

"Come on Plagg, I know your sleepy, but I need you to get up."

He realized that there was no response. Normally the small cat kwami would be complaining that his alarm clock is jealous of his loving relationship with sleep.

Adrien walked over to the part of the bed Plagg would call his home.

"Went under the pillow to try and sleep more? Typical plagg." Adrien rolled his eyes with a smile.

He pulled the pillow up to reveal nothing.

"Plagg?"

Adrien felt his tiredness turn to annoyance. He didn't have time for hide and seek with the grumpy god. Thankfully, he knew a trick. to find the clever Kwami.

"Plagg! Claws out!"

After a few seconds, nothing had changed. Adrien was still very much Adrien, just posing like an idiot.

"Plagg! Claws out!" Adrien shouted louder.

Still no transformation.

"What is happening?" Adrien pulled his hand back and his eyes went wide to realize, the miraculous was missing!

"Oh no..."

Adrien felt his skin turn pale and a pit of worry in his gut. This felt like the worst case scenario. He needed to find his ring!

Adrien rushed to his bed, pulling up the covers, sheets, pillows and anything that could be potentially hiding his ring. He started looking around his bathroom. He checked the floors, tables, shelves, any small crevice he could think of. He had turned his room upside down with no success.

He felt his mind racing, where could the miraculous be? Did... did they lose that fight last night? Was that why he couldn't remember?! Did the akuma take the miraculous and Hawkmoth was victorious?!

He stops for a moment. He needed to calm down.

'Hold on, that can't be what happened. Wouldn't the world be all grim and depressing with butterflies everywhere if he won? I know! I can just check the ladyblog. Get the details on the akuma attack last night. Maybe I can get some details on what happened.'

Adrien rushes to his computer and goes into his favorites tab, only to find the Ladyblog wasn't in it. He shrugged it off, he can type in the URL manually. He quickly types it into the site search bar... only to find nothing.

"The Ladyblog is gone?" Adrien spoke in a stunned whisper.

He exited out of the browser only to take notice of his computer wallpaper.

It was a picture of him, and a beautiful girl. They were smiling. Her cheeks were rosy and her black hair was down. Her blue eyes as blue as the sky. He looked at the picture of him closely, the way his eyes weren't even looking at the camera. They were fixed on the girl. He felt his heart beat a bit.

When did he have this picture taken? The last girl he dated was Kagami, and they didn't have any pictures together like this. Who was this gorgeous girl in the photo?

The blond teen looked closer, he knows she looked familiar. He felt like he knew her... He shook it off. Right now he didn't have time to figure out who the cute girl was, he had to figure out what happened to Plagg, to his miraculous.

"If only I could contact my lady..." Adrien sighed deeply. This would have been one of those situations where knowing her identity would have been beneficial.

He gets up from his desk chair. He needed to head to school anyway. He was relieved that his father probably wouldn't notice him leaving the house later then normal.

He grabbed his backpack and carefully made his way downstairs, when he heard something highly unusual, Laughter. But even weirder, it was his father laughing.

Adrien felt a chill go down his spine, was there some sort of akuma that was forcing people to laugh? And he didn't have plagg to help.

He rushed down the stairs and pushed his back to the wall. He listened closely. He needed to know the situation.

"...And thats when you said it?" a voice that adrien recognized as his father asked. The voice sounded like it was trying to hold back laughter.

"No, that was before I was heading to the car. He was so keen on keeping me there." another voice spoke, it sounded so familiar to Adrien but he couldn't place it. The voice felt warm and comforting.

"Right, that was when he was offering to pay you double for reshooting the scene." Gabriel stated.

"Yep, and I said. 'I don't care if you triple my pay, I haven't seen my husband and son for 9 months! I am heading home." The woman emphasized.

"And then he tried to say he'd black list you?" Gabriel chuckled.

"Thats when I turned around, walked up to him, looked him dead in the eye and said: 'Look Jeremy, I don't give a butterfly's buttcheek about your threats. You should be thankful I decided to even act in this colossal disappointment of a movie. I am going home, and you can kiss my ring once your movie gets nominated for an Oscar."

Adrien realized he knew that voice. he moved from his hiding spot. Standing in the entry way of the dining room.

"Mom?" Adrien barely managed to speak.

The blond woman in the chair in the classy light pink business suit stood from her chair.

"And so my little sunshine rises. I was wondering when I would see you up? Sorry I haven't gone up to see you yet, I just got home and I needed to tell your father about the ordeal I..."

Adrien hugged his mother. Holding her tightly.

"You're back right? like this is really you?" Adrien was trying to figure out what was going on in this world. Was this really his mother? Was this all a dream? A crazy roller coaster of a dream.

"I missed you too honey." She hugged back. She turned her head to Gabriel. "Remind me to call Jeremy after this, I need to give him another verbal lashing for making my son miss me so much!"

"Will do." Gabriel nodded.

Adrien released the hug.

"I have so many questions..." Adrien started. But Gabriel noticed the time.

"Trust me son, you can ask your mother all about her latest movie after school. You are going to be late if you don't head off." Gabriel instructed.

Adrien felt this day get weirder. Seeing his dad so... happy felt like such an oddity.

His mind was a medley of thoughts that just didn't make sense.

"R-right. I will see you... both after school" Adrien said as he started heading to the door.

"Hold it!"

Adrien froze, his mind still processing the fact that his mother is here and very much alive.

She walks over to him. She kisses his forehead, the blond feeling a sense of calm he desperately needed. His mother always did know how to put him at ease.

"I am finally back, so you need to talk with that lovely girl you have been talking with and set up a time for us to all have dinner together."

"Girl?"

"Yes, don't try to play dumb. The girl that you have been dating for well over 6 months now. Just because I am away doesn't mean I don't follow up with things going on in your life. Your father has sent me some photos of the two of you, and I must say, your father should ask her to help model with you."

Adrien felt his cheeks heat up, he did see the photo of the girl she was referring to. So apparently that girl is his girlfriend?! He would probably feel lucky if he could figure out what exactly was going on.

"I... I will talk with her about it." Adrien managed to answer.

"Great! Now off you go!"

Adrien walked out the door and headed to the car where his driver was waiting like usual.

Though as he was about to get into the car.

"Love you!" he heard his mother call out.

Adrien looked to his mom, a smile slipped on his face.

"Love you too mom."

He hopped into the car and the driver drove off to the school.

_____________________________________________________________

#Per-chat to Dream #ml fic #ml fanfic #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfiction #adrien agreste #Emilie agreste #Gabriel agreste #Plagg #Marinette mention #Adrinette

[shemarmooresfedora]

Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

A/N: no fic-related news but i did get my first dose of the covid vaccine today so that’s exciting! GET VAXXED, PEOPLE! SPENCER WOULD WANT YOU TO!!

Masterlist

Chapter 20

“Hey Hotch,” Spencer knocked on his boss’s door.

Spencer got in extra early today to have his meeting with Hotch and hopefully tie up all the loose ends in his paperwork.

“Reid, come in,” Hotch gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and talking with Y/N and I think my time at the BAU is coming to an end,” Spencer said.

“I see,” Hotch leaned back in his chair, “Well, I think it goes without saying that you would certainly be missed. But, I’m not going to try to convince you to stay because I feel like this is a good decision for you...one I probably should have made myself if we’re being completely honest.”

“You made it work though, Jack loves his superhero dad,” Spencer reassured him, “I just can’t keep missing stuff after already missing six years. It’s too much and I certainly can’t focus on cases when I’m desperately wishing I was somewhere else.”

“How about this? We put you on temporary unpaid leave for a year. Then, you can either choose to come back or quit for good. This will give you plenty of family time and then you’ll see if you’re ever ready to return or not. It’s up to you. Also, if I just put you on leave, it can start as early as tomorrow. Instead of you just quitting and then having to put your two weeks in and be called away on more cases.”

“That sounds great, Hotch. Thank you so much for your understanding. If I don’t come back, it was a pleasure working with you. But I’m sure I will see you around at Rossi’s dinner parties,” Spencer grinned.

Hotch and Spencer hugged before pulling away to see the rest of the team filing into the bullpen.

“I guess I have to tell them,” Spencer sighed, knowing they would be a little disappointed at the sudden news.

“Hey guys, I have an announcement,” Spencer walked out of Hotch’s office.

“You have another secret daughter?” Derek joked.

“Y/N is pregnant?” Penelope guessed.

“You’re engaged?” Emily asked.

“Um no to all, I know this is a bit sudden and I apologize for that but effective tomorrow, I will be taking a year long leave from the BAU which may turn permanent,” Spencer spoke softly.

Silence filled the room.

“It’s not that I don’t love this job or you guys. You all know you are my best friends but I just really need to be home with my family right now,” Spencer explained.

Derek was the first to walk up to Spencer, “We’re gonna miss you around here, kid.”

He pulled Spencer in for a hug, ruffling up his hair.

Penelope was next in line to hug Spencer with a tissue already dabbing at her eyes.

“I hate to see you go, Boy Wonder, but I know it’s what’s best for you,” she said.

“I think Jo may be an even stricter boss than Hotch,” Rossi teased.

“She does have a tendency to get grumpy when she isn’t allowed to have ice cream for dinner,” Spencer laughed lightly, wiping the tears that were forming from his eyes.

“Please don’t ever stop talking. I know we tease you but I truly am going to miss your rambles,” Emily whispered.

“I’m just a phone call away,” he promised.

“You deserve this. Do not feel bad,” JJ reminded him.

He nodded in acknowledgement, his voice getting caught in the lump in his throat.

“We need a cake!” Penelope exclaimed, “I will not have the Good Doctor’s last day be cakeless especially with that sweet tooth of his.”

“On it,” Derek said, grabbing his keys.

“Decorations too! See if Party City has a Happy Retirement section!” she shouted after him.

“You’ve got it, baby girl,” Derek replied.

-

Spencer returned home in the evening with a cardboard box full of his belongings that once resided on his desk. 7 years of his career packed into one box. It seemed sad to him that such a big chapter of his life was closing.

But then, he walked inside. You and Jo had karaoke up on the TV screen. You both were currently in the middle of Wannabe by the Spice Girls. Jo even had her baseball cap on backwards to complete the look.

“If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends. Make it last forever, friendship never ends. If you wanna be my lover, you have got to give. Taking is too easy, but that's the way it is,” Jo sang.

Then you jumped in, “So, here's a story from A to Z. You wanna get with me, you gotta listen carefully. We got Em in the place who likes it in your face. You got G like MC who likes it on a

Easy V doesn't come for free, she's a real lady. And as for me, ha you'll see.”

“Slam your bodies down and wind it all around,” you both sang.

You turned around to see Spencer standing there and you let out a yelp.

“Oh no, please continue. Don’t stop on my account,” he grinned.

“Daddy!” Jo jumped up into his arms.

He moved Jo to his hip as you approached.

“Hi, love,” you greeted him with a kiss.

He was no longer sad. This was the right choice. This is where he belonged.

-

“Shhh” is the first thing you heard as you awoke followed by the quiet rattling of dishes.

“Jo, no!” you heard Spencer whisper-shout, “I said not until Mommy wakes up.”

“I’m up,” you muttered into your pillow.

You turned to the side of your bed to see Jo standing there with a tray of food and Spencer behind her with a bouquet of flowers.

You smiled softly.

“Happy Mother’s Day!” they both cheered.

“Thank you, my loves,” you gave them both kisses, accepting the tray from Jo as Spencer set the flower vase down on your bedside table.

The food on the tray consisted of a mug of coffee, a cup of orange juice, bacon, a bowl of blueberries, and a big chocolate chip pancake with sliced strawberries for the eyes and nose and a whipped cream smile.

“Very artistic,” you grinned.

Spencer returned next to you in bed, getting under the covers. He was wearing a plain gray fitted t-shirt, flannel PJ pants, and his glasses.

“Jo, you can go get your present for Mommy while she eats,” he suggested.

Once Jo left the room to go retrieve her gift, you planted a much messier kiss on Spencer’s lips.

“Not that I’m complaining but what was that for?” he smirked.

“You know how sexy I told you those glasses make you look,” you stated, taking a bite of a strip of bacon.

“I’ll keep them on all day then as part of your gift,” he smiled.

Jo crawled on to the bed with a wrapped box and an envelope taped to it. The card was clearly homemade by Jo and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Look at this beautiful artwork!” you exclaimed, opening the card.

Inside was a gift card for a spa downtown surrounded by Jo’s doodles.

“JJ said that place was really nice. There’s enough on there for you and a friend to get a full day of pampering,” Spencer said.

“Well, that’s good that she likes it because I will probably bring her along as my fellow mom. Thank you both,” you smiled.

Jo pushed the wrapped box towards you. You opened it to find a multi-colored beaded necklace.

“I made it for you, Mommy,” Jo beamed as you put it on over your head.

“That is so very thoughtful of you,” you kissed her forehead, “It fits me perfectly and you even included my favorite color.”

“I planned a picnic for today but if you would rather stay home and relax all day, I totally get it. Jo and I can go to the park and you can have some peace and quiet,” Spencer offered.

“Are you kidding me? It’s called Mother’s Day, I want to spend some time with the little girl who made me the luckiest one in the entire world,” you smiled.

“Picnic, it is then. I’ll get Jo all dressed and the bag packed. Here, let me take that,” Spencer left the room, balancing Jo on one hip and your tray of dirty dishes on the other.

You were really going to have to bring your all for Father’s Day next month.

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer x reader #reid x reader #cm fanfic #criminal minds

[tlcwrites]

Fall to Pieces

Part 1

Submission for Writer Wednesday 9/15/21

Poe Dameron x Reader, Modern AU

“Do I really need to say it?” he finally asks. “Yes.” You need to hear it. You need him to voice it, after two and a half decades of pretending your friendship is nothing more. You need him to admit it, so you can find the nerve to admit it yourself.

Word Count: 4597

Tags/Warnings: Angst. Like, so much angst. Absolutely all the angst. All aboard the angst train. Slight infidelity depending on how you look at it. Lots of bad language words. Did I mention angst? Unbeta'd and probably full of typos.

Author’s Note: It’s been a hot minute since I wrote or at least finished a fic for our favorite hot space droid dad! Missed this flyboy.

I had already been working on this when I saw the 9/15 Writer’s Wednesday prompt, and it felt very apropo for the direction I was going. While this is technically part one of a multi-chapter fic (MY FIRST MULTI CHAPTER FIC THAT I’M ACTUALLY SHARING WITH ANYONE BESIDES MYSELF OMG LOOK AT ME GOOOO!), it can absolutely be read as a (super fucking angsty) standalone. If you want to be tagged in updates, let me know in the notes or send me an ask/dm!

Thanks to @autumnleaves1991-blog and @clydesducktape for hosting my favorite day of the week, and to @paper-n-ashes for, as always, rambling with me about character arcs and egging me on. This angst-fest is entirely her fault. I said what I said. Dividers by @firefly-graphics.

Series Masterlist - Part 2

“...you do love him, right?”

You scoff, focusing on the steam rising from your tea instead of the man perched on the stool next to you. “Of course I love him. What the hell kind of question is that?”

“Just seems kinda sudden, that’s all.”

“We’ve been together for over a year.” The warmth from the mug against your palms doesn’t offer the same comfort it usually does. “It’s the next logical step.”

“‘The next logical step’?” He snorts. “Sounds super romantic.”

You dismissively wrinkle your nose. “Please, you wouldn’t know romance if it bit you in the ass.”

“Romance wasn’t the one who bit me in the ass, that was Olivia. Romance is the one who sucks my-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, you pig.” But your words lack any serious castigation, and you can’t help smiling as you finally glance at him.

With his stool angled towards you, one foot propped carelessly on the foot rail, he’s the picture of casual confidence. He’s got that easy grin on his face, the one that draws people in without even trying. You know that smile so completely, you're sure you’d be able to feel it’s warmth, be able to feel his effortless, unconditional affection, from lightyears away. You’re probably the only person on Earth who can tell when it doesn't quite reach his eyes, and the smile becomes a façade.

Like it is now.

You both pretend you can’t tell.

“I’m just saying,” he says, tilting the neck of his beer at you for effect, “Weddings are about romance, the binding of two souls for all eternity! ‘The next logical step’ doesn’t sound like a blushing bride planning her wedding; it sounds like a stockbroker talking about next quarter’s investment opportunities.”

“I’m sorry, did you just call me a blushing bride?” It’s easy to hide your inner turmoil under the gentle ribbing that has always been one of the best parts of your relationship. “What am I, the virginal heroine of a romance novel?”

His snort is ill-timed, as it coincides with the sip he’s taking of his drink. You laugh as he sputters, and softly thump him on the back. “Easy there, Romeo.”

“Pardon me for thinking a wedding should be a celebration instead of a transaction,” he finally manages to cough out.

“Oh, so my marriage is a transaction now.”

His hands fly up in self defense. “Hold up, I didn’t say your marriage, I said-”

“It’s extraordinary, truly, how you manage to shove your entire foot in your mouth like that.”

“We really need to work on your listening comprehension, I said nothing about-”

Your server sets his plate in front of him. “Poe, honey, you ever heard of ‘stopping while you’re ahead’?”

“C’mon, Miss Patty, back me up here,” Poe entreats the older woman. “Marriage shouldn’t be all logical, right?”

“They call it a partnership for a reason, you noodle,” you can’t help but interject.

Patty’s smile to you is fond as she schools Poe. “See? This is why she’s the brains and the beauty between the two of you.” She reaches across the counter to squeeze your hand, admiring your ring with motherly affection. “I woulda been questioning his sanity if your man hadn’t put a ring on it as soon as he could. You’ve always been a catch, babygirl.

“And you-” The look she levels at Poe is so reminiscent of your 10th grade geometry teacher you have to smother your giggle. “-you stop raining on her parade, or I’m callin’ your daddy.”

Momentarily scandalized, Poe’s jaw drops. “You wouldn’t.”

“Watch me, kid.” Patty crosses her arms with the attitude of a woman who has raised four children and has zero time for your shit. “You either put up, or shut up.”

You immediately lower your gaze to your mug and take a furtive sip.

Poe opens his mouth to make some (most likely tasteless) quip, but is saved from the wrath of Patty by the bell dinging in the window.

She makes the universal ‘I’ll be watching you’ sign at Poe. “Kes is on my speed dial. Don’t test me.”

“Yes, Miss Patty,” Poe replies by rote, waiting until she walks away to murmmer, "Do you think Mrs. Rudesky trained her in that glare?"

You can’t help your snicker. “Somebody’s in trooouble.”

“Naw.” He dismissively waves his hand, handing you the ketchup with the other. “Miss Patty loves me. She does, don’t you look at me in that tone of voice; you know it’s true.”

You chuck a sugar packet at his head as he laughs and turns to his plate.

While he demolishes half of his burger and you pick at your fries, you can’t help but fixate on Patty’s comment to Poe. Of course you know exactly what she meant. To address it with Poe would mean crossing a line you could never uncross. You haven’t been brave enough to take that risk before; are you brave enough now?

Your ring feels like a ticking clock, and you idly twist it with your thumb as you lose yourself to a tempest of overthinking.

“Anyway,” Poe says around a mouthful of food, saving you from your thoughts, “All I'm saying is you might as well just go to the courthouse if you don’t want to give it the gravitas it deserves.”

It takes you a moment to remember he’s talking about your wedding. “Maybe that's exactly what we'll do.”

His exaggerated horror makes you laugh. “I forbid it," he scolds, waving a fry for emphasis. "You don’t get to deprive me of my Best Guy duties.”

“Presumptuous of you to assume you’re going to be my Best Guy,” you sass, taking another sip of your tea.

“Presumptuous of you to assume I’d let anyone usurp me.” He toasts you with the remnants of his burger. “Someone’s gotta bring the romance to this shindig, honey.”

Your eyebrow cocks almost involuntarily. “We’ve been over this, you are absolutely not the go-to expert on romance.”

He tries and fails to look offended. “I’ll have you know I’m a VERY romantic guy.”

“Poe. The love of your life is a 34 pound corgi.”

He flippantly tosses a curl off his forehead. “Please, BeeBee knows she’s gotta share my heart with-” His sentence abruptly cuts off.

Even though his words are glib, they immediately extinguish the levity of your banter. You both know how his sentence ends.

“Sorry.” Poe finally breaks the uncomfortable silence. “I- sorry.”

Swallowing your heartache, you shrug, feigning nonchalance. “It’s fine.”

It’s not, but that subject is mutually understood to be taboo.

It’s the Unspoken Truth that is never discussed. The two of you have been considered a packaged deal by everyone since, well, forever. Defining the semantics of your relationship has always felt trivial, when the depth of your connection is immeasurable.

Now, though, with your wedding looming, the need for honesty carries an exigence it never has before.

You twist your ring once more.

“...tell me why Patty told you to ‘put up or shut up’.” It’s a demand, not a question, blurted out before your brain catches up with your mouth. You stare resolutely at the chipping tile surrounding the order window, unable to look at him.

His meal halfway to his mouth, you can feel the startled weight of his gaze. The apprehension of finally putting words to the underlying bond that has always existed between you nearly suffocates you both.

He slowly lowers his food back down to his plate, wiping his mouth and hands with a napkin as one last futile delay of the inevitable. “Do I really need to say it?” he finally asks.

“Yes.” You need to hear it. You need him to voice it, after two and a half decades of pretending your friendship is nothing more.

You need him to admit it, so you can find the nerve to admit it yourself.

“I-” His normally suave confidence is nowhere to be found, and it’s with desperation he croaks out, “Why?”

“Because…” You trail off, trying to find the right words when none exist. The ring makes another revolution. “Because isn’t it time for us to be honest with each other?”

Your heart is racing, and you’re sure it’s audible from across the diner. You’d wager Poe’s is as well, given the ashen color of his skin.

He clears his throat. “Can’t we keep pretending?”

His voice takes you back to when you were children, when he knelt in the grass next to the freshly installed headstone bearing his mother’s name, asking plaintively why his mother had to die. You didn’t have an answer for him then, and you don’t have one that isn’t selfish for him now.

You try to keep your voice from trembling as you give that selfish reason. “Because I’m getting married, Poe. I need you to say it before everything changes.”

I need you to say it before it’s too late.

He’s silent for several long moments, and you can feel disappointed tears welling until he finally speaks.

“I first saw you on the day your family moved in,” he says quietly. “You came over when your parents were meeting my parents across the hedge. Remember how ecstatic they were that there was another kid the same age next door? When you introduced yourself to me, your smile-” He can’t help one of his own as he relives the memory. “Your smile was pure sunshine. And it changed my whole world.”

Yours had changed too, the first time he’d given you that sweet half-grin, so different from the self-assured smirk he shows everyone else.

The entire diner seems to hold its breath as he softly, but sincerely, finally admits to The Unspoken Truth:

“That was when I started to fall for you.” He finally meets your eyes. “And I’ve never stopped.”

You hoped the admission of the secret would remove the elephant from where it's sat on your chest for years, freeing you to fill your lungs deeper than you've ever been able to before. But it doesn't. It merely shifts the weight to your stomach, queasy with anxiety. You wonder in that moment if you’ve made a terrible mistake, finally exposing the truth between the pair of you. Because now, you have to face the reckoning of your own choices.

You twist the ring again.

Poe is blissfully unaware of your inner anguish. His eyes haven’t left your face, and you’re sure he doesn’t even realize his body is leaning towards yours, drawn by an indefinable magnetism. “But you’ve known, right?” His voice is barely loud enough to hear over the cacophony of the dinner rush. “You have to have known.”

For half a heartbeat, you consider denying it. But you’ve never been able to lie to him.

You nod, infinitesimally.

He looks like he can’t decide if he’s relieved or horrified. “How long?”

You lick your lips. “Since that day at the creek.”

“Since-” He sits back heavily on his stool. “Fuck.”

The memory hangs between you, simultaneously sentimental and sober.

“I can’t drive past the park without thinking about it,” you quietly admit.

“I couldn’t forget that day if I tried.” His chuckle lacks both sincerity and strength. “That was when you always had those braids-”

“Oh god, not the braids.” You cover your cheeks with your hands. “I was hoping you’d forgotten those.”

“Never. They were adorable.” His smile is fond. But the levity slowly fades from his expression, and he clears his throat. “When I heard you scream, I- I don’t even remember running. I was on the baseball diamond one second and then I was there.”

You remember. A picnic with your parents at the riverside park, where you'd used Poe’s recruitment by schoolmates for a game of catch as an excuse to escape to the peace of the water.

Like Poe, the rest is burned into your memory; the pyrographed terror as you slipped on the slick rocks and tumbled down the bank, your rapidly-failing grip on the crag all that kept you from the rushing current below; that fear reborn as relief when you felt his hands seize yours and haul you back to safety. He’d wrapped you in his arms as your body shook in silent shock, refusing to let go until Kes pried his arms away so your mother could squeeze you. She’d sobbed her gratitude to Poe while Kes hugged him tightly with relief.

But you didn’t feel truly safe until that night, when Poe met you in the treehouse, and held you while your tears finally fell.

Poe, the boy with curly hair and the cocksure smile; the other half of your soul.

After that day, the change between you was slight, and if you weren’t so attuned to everything that was him, you might not have noticed. But even at that young age, you knew Poe as well as you knew yourself. And that meant the subtle shifting of balance between your twin orbits was as irrefutable as the pull of the moon on the seas.

He studies his hands; those calloused, strong hands that have held your own countless times over the course of your lives. “I didn’t- I mean, what twelve-year-old has any concept of what love is, really? You love your dog, you love your grandma’s snickerdoodles, you love dinosaurs, whatever; but how can you understand what it means to love another person? To truly, deeply love someone, the way your parents love each other? A kid can’t process feelings like that.”

You quash the instinct to reach for his hand.

“It was even more confusing because it was you, us.” He’s still addressing his hands, but his voice is regaining some of his signature tenacity. “Shit, you’ve been my best friend since I was six-fucking-years-old. We practically grew up at each other’s houses. I call your parents Mom and Dad. You have a fucking Christmas stocking at our house! It shouldn’t feel like this, I shouldn’t want-'' His curls become chaotic as he rakes a hand through his hair. “I have dreamed of telling you how I feel since, fuck, since you were shaking in my arms next to that fucking creek. You can’t possibly understand, it’s-” He swallows whatever he is about to say as he drops his head and grips the back of his neck like a lifeline.

This is a side of Poe he’s tried so carefully to keep secret. It would be startling to see him so exposed if you weren’t feeling the exact same way.

“I have loved our friendship as much as I’ve loved you,” he eventually says, his voice lacking its usual fire. “I have never felt this kind of connection with anyone. None of the women I’ve dated, none of the other friends I’ve had, not my parents; there has never, ever, been anyone in my life as important to me as you. So that day, when for half a heartbeat I had to consider what my life would be without you in it, fuck.”

You don’t dare to breathe.

“I’m pretty sure that was the day I fell in love with you as more than my best friend,” he muses. “Or, rather, that was the day I knew.”

The crack in your heart grows even larger.

“‘Cause really, I fell for you little by little, every single day I’ve known you, until you were so firmly entrenched in my heart that it would stop beating without you. It was something in here-” He rubs the left side of his chest. “-and I just knew. I knew you were it for me.” He makes a sound that’s half laugh and half sob. “I can’t even remember what it felt like before you. Loving you is as essential to me as breathing.”

His words sit like lead in your stomach, their weight shackled to your every whisper of doubt about your engagement, your relationship, your resolve to ignore what your own heart has known for years.

Your ring sparkles under the lights, a beacon of your guilt.

“I-” You have to stop and lick your dry lips before you can speak. “This isn’t fair, Poe.”

His brow pinches. “Honey-“

“No, Poe, you-” You press a palm against your forehead, desperately trying not to cry. “This isn’t fair. It’s been years. Why didn’t you- I’m getting married, Poe.”

“Yeah, I caught that.” You can see his hackles starting to rise.

It doesn’t quell the need to deflect your frustration with yourself as anger back towards him. “We’ve been friends for 25 years, and you waited until I’m fucking engaged to finally admit all of this?”

“I wasn't alone in this,” he defends. “You never brought it up before now, either.”

“So?! You could have said something years ago, you could have stopped me before I- before-” You realize your volume and glance around, embarrassment burning up your neck. Only the people sitting closest to you have taken notice, but merely glance curiously before going back to their own conversations. Mortified regardless, you turn back to Poe and swallow thickly. “Were you ever going to admit it, if I hadn’t said something?”

You know his answer before he says the words. “No.”

His admission stings more than you’d care to admit. “Didn’t you want- why didn’t you even want to try?”

Why wasn’t I worth the risk?

You can see the tick in his jaw as he struggles to find his words.

“I was scared.” His voice cracks, and he has to take a moment to compose himself enough to continue. “I didn’t know well enough to say anything when we were kids, and after I… I know I was different when I came back.”

You’re shaking your head before he even finishes his sentence. You know what he’s going to say. “No, Poe-“

“Don’t. It’s the truth. I was, I am, different,” he insists. “And I need you to hear- I have to get this out. Please.”

If it weren’t for the pain in his eyes, you would have continued to protest. But you swallow your objections and listen.

He breathes deeply, almost as if courage will be inhaled with the oxygen. “I wish I regretted joining up, but I don’t. I can’t. They needed me over there. I’m a damn good nurse, and I know I made a difference.”

You nod. “You are, Poe. And you did.” You will never tell him you’d cried yourself to sleep for two solid weeks after he’d shipped out.

The waiver in his voice makes you want to cry all over again. “The things I saw- the things I did, you can’t-” He sucks in a desperate lungful of air. “You can’t live through that and not come out changed. I’m not that same person I was, back when I fell in love with you. And you…” He desperately looks away as his eyes well with tears.

It takes every bit of restraint you possess not to jump off your stool and gather him into your arms.

“It isn’t that you’re not worth it, sweetheart,” he says once he’s regained his composure. “It’s that you’re worth everything. You deserve-” His shoulders slump as he takes a shaky breath. “You deserve the world. And I am too fucking broken to deserve you.”

As your eyes water, you try to cling to your indignation. But the fire in your belly is gone. All that remains is the gnawing emptiness of grief.

Next to you, Poe shoves a fist across one suspiciously wet cheek, before sitting up with a sniffle and resolve. “So, I kept my mouth shut. I was wrong and I was a fucking coward, but you asked why.” He presents a hand, palm up. “That’s why.”

“I deserve to have made that choice for myself,” you whisper.

He exhales heavily. “I know.”

The two of you lapse into silence once more, but unlike before, it’s not comfortable. Poe’s heartache radiates from every pore in his body, and your shame smothers you where you sit, until it becomes too much to hold.

“I'm sorry I was such a coward,” you finally manage to whisper. “I could have admitted the same things, and I didn’t because I was terrified I was reading you wrong, and that you didn’t really want me like that.”

The barest flicker of hope enters his eyes.

“I’ve loved you since I was six-years-old.” Your confession is barely audible. “I don’t know how to be me without you.”

Even knowing they need to be said, the words stick in your throat. You shift your focus to the peeling vinyl of the counter, willing your lips not to tremble as you force out what feels so wrong you can scarcely bear it. “...so maybe it’s a good thing, then, us not doing this 'til now. Now we can learn how to be on our own.”

Around you, the diner continues through a normal Friday evening. Plates clatter in the kitchen as the cooks call out orders; someone starts Patsy Cline on the jukebox in the corner; Patty cracks jokes with a regular at the other end of the counter.

But you and Poe exist in a frozen heartbeat, the silence between you deafening and endless.

You can feel his eyes fixed on you, the warm carob gaze that has always seen through every bluff and emotional barricade you’ve ever attempted; those eyes that crinkle when he laughs, that always hold such affection; those eyes that looked up at you, filled with tears, as you held him next to his mother’s grave; you’ve lived a lifetime in his eyes.

And now you can’t bear to look, knowing you are the one responsible for what you’ll surely see.

“You-” Rasping, he clears his throat, pausing for several long moments before he speaks again. “That’s it then?”

The first of your tears escape as you shake your head, still unable to look at him. “Of course not.”

“‘Being on our own’ sure sounds like you’re done with us- with me.”

Hurt laces his words, and you finally gather the strength to look up. His face is pale and impassive, the tick in his jaw the only tell that he’s holding on to his composure by a swiftly-fraying thread.

“That’s not what I meant,” you insist.

He makes a noise that borders between a laugh and a curse. “Then what? What do you mean? For the love of God, I am begging you to tell me what you mean.”

That’s the issue- your head and your heart are at war over the decision. Your head says you need space, that you both need to figure out how to exist in what will be your new normal, with Poe no longer your binary for the first time in your lives; You owe it to your fiancé, to yourself- and to Poe- to establish those boundaries now.

Even if your heart doesn’t want to agree.

“I mean that it’s not fair for us to carry this- this,” you clumsily explain, gesturing between you both. “We can’t carry that part of our relationship anymore if we aren’t- if we’re not going to be anything besides friends. It's not fair to...” You swallow thickly. "...anyone."

His bark of laughter is scornful.

“You don’t get to be pissed at me,” you jab back with a glower. “You’ve had twenty five years- fuck, Poe, twenty five years, to admit your own feelings; you do not get to be pissed at me.”

“You’ve had twenty five years to admit it yourself!” The pain you’re both feeling is more than evident in his voice. “This isn’t one sided; I’m not the only one to blame here.”

The entire conversation has been at such a low volume, even Patty has yet to noticed that your relationship is in the midst of a supernova. You’re both vibrating with hurt, and anger, and mourning for a friendship that can never completely return to what it was before.

When Poe speaks, you’re so wrapped in your own turmoil you almost don’t hear him. “Are you still going to marry him?”

It’s one last chance, one last hope for the future you've both dreamed of.

But it’s come far too late. And your silence is the confirmation you can’t force yourself to say.

With a broken nod, Poe drops his head into his hands.

When his shoulders start shaking, you scoot off the stool, ducking under his arms and wrapping yours around his chest. You burrow your face against his neck as you’ve done a thousand times before. He reciprocates, holding you securely, almost reverently.

“All that matters to me is you’re happy,” he eventually murmurs, his breath warm against your hair. “Really. Don’t ever doubt that.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath. You can feel it in his body, always so warm against yours, and your heart cracks even more. “I love you as much as he does,” he chokes out, fiercely. “You know that, right?”

You tip your head up to meet his gaze, trying and failing to force your lips into a smile. “I know.”

Time slows to a standstill as you cling to each other, and you both know what's about to happen.

He searches your eyes, seeking permission, maybe even hoping you’ll stop him before you both cross a line that can never be undone. But you can’t resist this, not when you’ve longed for it for so long. He delicately caresses the line of your jaw, using that single finger to gently guide your head forward, and presses his lips to yours.

You know it’s wrong. God, it’s so wrong. But you can’t find it in you to care. You meet him fully, neither of you hesitating as his mouth slants over yours, and you taste each other for the first time. You can feel his heart racing in his chest as he pulls your body even closer against his, and feel your own heart mirror the frantic pace as you desperately hold on to him.

Novels celebrate the moments of true love’s kiss with choirs of heavenly song, fireworks, and overwhelming passion. But the first kiss between two halves of the same soul doesn’t need angels or fireworks. It’s peace. It’s balance. It’s the sense of your heart finally, finally finding completion.

And having to end that kiss, with the knowledge that it can never happen again, feels like the universe itself is ripping in two.

It takes every bit of strength you still possess to pull away, both of you breathing heavily, unable or unwilling to end this moment.

The laughter from a booth across the diner finally breaks the spell, and as you realize this is possibly the end of your story with Poe, your heart breaks right along with it.

The ring is a leaden weight on your finger, pulling you down to the bottom of the sea.

A sob bubbles up from your chest. You can't do this anymore. You frantically gather your things, tossing a few bills on the counter and avoiding his attempt to help.

“I- I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Poe, I can’t- I have to-”

You freeze halfway across the diner when he gently says your name. You don’t need to see his face to feel the resignation in his words.

“There’s nothing I can say, is there?”

You can’t look back or you’ll completely shatter. “Goodbye, Poe.”

The jingle of the bell feels like an admonishment as you push through the door.

Series Masterlist - Part 2

A/N: The title comes from “I Fall to Pieces” by Patsy Cline.

#Poe Dameron #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron fic #poe x reader #Poe Dameron series #Poe series #Oscar isaac #star wars #Star Wars fanfic #Star Wars fanfiction #fall to pieces series #tlc writes #my writing #cw: angst #cw: swearing #all aboard the angst train #to be fair I warned you all #HEA I promise please don’t stab me #I’m terrified for my first multi chapter fic #but y’all I’m so excited too #writer wednesday

[chrisevansjellybeans]

Happier | Part One

A/N: Once again Tumblr decides to not have my work show up on the tags. But here is part one of a multi-fic! 

Summary: Reader is Chris’s best freind who has been harboring feelings for him for a while. When they are finally reunited after he’s been gone for filming she’s shocked to find out that he’s coming back with a little more than just himself. 

Word Count: 1479

Warnings: swearing, slightly angsty

You wiped your palms against the fabric of your dress as you watched the front door of the fancy restaurant that Chris had picked out. He was finally back from filming in Canada where he had been for the last six months and you had missed him like crazy. 

You had met Chris when you first moved to Boston. You had decided to check out your new neighborhood and you had always believed that nothing gave you more insight on the neighborhood than its local dive bar. The Dirty Robber just screamed classic Boston dive bar and when you walked in your suspicions were confirmed. He had been sitting at the bar and you just a couple stools down. Before you knew it you were talking until bar close and a friendship blossomed from there. 

You had obviously known who he was and you weren’t going to lie, were starstruck when he took off his hat that first night in the bar. But after many coffee and lunch get-togethers you realized that he was more than the movie star you had known him to be. 

That was five years ago. And of course you had to fall victim to the cliche of “I’m the best friend of the super hot guy who has no idea I feel that way and doesn’t see me as any more than a friend or worse a little sister.” So you did what you did best. You suppressed the feelings and put on a brave face and didn’t say anything to him. 

And now here you were, waiting in a fancy restaurant, wearing a hot red dress in hopes that in his time away your best friend realized that just maybe he had feelings for you too. 

“Can I get you another water?” You broke out of your trance and turned to the waitress who was smiling down at you. 

“Um yeah, that would be great. Thank you.” She nodded and you turned your attention back to the door. 

You felt your heart flutter as Chris walked through the double doors. He ran his fingers through his hair as he paused at the door and looked around the restaurant, looking for you. You felt your body stand as you went to raise your hand to get his attention. But then you froze. It was like ice had gone through your veins and stopped all motion. 

A beautiful woman walked up behind Chris and lovingly wrapped her arms around his torso. Her blonde hair perfectly curled and rested down her back. She had a smile, like Chris, that lit up the whole room. Her dress was a beautiful emerald green that fit perfectly to her curves. 

You lowered yourself into your seat as you felt your heart start to shatter. You watched with glossy eyes as Chris finally spotted you and his smile grew. He grabbed the woman’s hand and led her towards you. You willed your tears to dry as they got closer and you put on your best smile. 

“Hey stranger.” Chris sighed as he pulled you into a bone crushing hug. You closed your eyes and took in his scent. Something that you missed for the last half year. “I’ve missed you, sweetheart.” 

Your heart pounded at the nickname. It was so mundane and so universally used but Chris had been calling you that for as long as you’ve known him and when it left his lips it just hit differently. 

“I’ve missed you too, buddy.” You looked past him to the blonde woman who was waiting patiently. You cleared your throat and moved past Chris. “Hi, I’m Y/N.” 

“Oh I know. Chris has told me so much about you, I feel like we are already friends.” She smiled genuinely.

Wish I could say the same. 

“Sweetheart, this is Carissa.” Chris put an arm around her, smiling down at her. “My girlfriend.” 

And there it was. The dagger that pierced your heart. 

“Wow.” You forced out. Chris raised his eyebrow at your lackluster excitement. His eyes asking you that silent question you didn’t want to answer. You cleared your throat and put on a bigger smile. “Wow! Go to Canada for a job and come back with a girlfriend? Way to go, Evans.” 

Carissa laughed and looked up at Chris with the same adoration you had for him. 

“Isn’t it crazy? We met on set and it was love at first sight.” Carissa’s voice was like music. Was there nothing wrong with this girl? 

“Love at first sight? Wow.” You smiled at her. The words were forced and your expression wasn’t genuine but she would never know. You had years of masking your emotions in your pocket. 

But Chris knew you. He knew when you genuinely smiled your eyes sparkled. And when you were excited your voice raised slightly by an octave. He had heard it many times. He knew that you weren’t being as genuine as you thought you were portraying. He watched you closely as you and Carissa continued chatting and you tried not to be affected by his stare. 

As you all ate and talked you felt your heart sink further as you soon realized that Carissa was in fact one of the nicest people on the planet. A true and caring person who clearly adored Chris as much as you did. She was everything that you wished you could be. Because clearly that was what Chris wanted. 

As the three of you stood outside the restaurant waiting for the valet to bring up the cars you wrapped your shawl tightly around yourself. Mentally slapping yourself for not thinking to bring a jacket. Usually Chris would wrap his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest and would rest his chin on your head. He was like your own personal blanket. But now he was doing it with her. Your body trembled as you looked anywhere but where the happy couple was standing. 

“You should come to the house soon. We can have a girls night.” Carissa had moved away from Chris and was now standing by you. Her fingers lightly holding your arm. “You just mean so much to Chris and I really want us to be friends.” 

You glanced over at Chris who was animatedly talking to another valet. He looked over at the both of you quickly and shot you a wink which made you turn away immediately. 

“Um yeah, that would be fun. How long are you in town for?” 

“Until further notice. Chris hasn’t officially asked but he’s basically moving all of my stuff from Canada here.” She giggled. “So whenever you are free I would love to do something. Chris can go over by his mom’s.” 

“What are you ladies plotting over here?” You tensed as Chris’s hands playfully rubbed your shoulders before pulling Carissa to his side. 

“Just a girls night.” She reached up and pecked him on the cheek. “No boys allowed.” 

Chris raised his hands in defense, a smile taking over his whole face. “Hey, I’ll be out of your hair whenever that happens.” 

You opened your mouth to say something but the cars pulled up. You made your way to your car but stopped when you felt a familiar hand grip your upper arm. 

“Babe, wait for me in the car. I’ll just be a second.”

Your eyes were closed as you steadied your breathing. Slowly you turned around to face your best friend. 

“What’s up?” You folded your arms. 

“Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing.” Chris rested his hands on his hips. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, Chris.” 

“No you’re not. What is it? Do you not like her?” 

You bit the inside of your cheek as you watched your best friend fidget nervously. He wanted you to like her so much. This was so real for him. And here you were acting jealous when you really had no reason to. It’s not his fault that you were too scared to tell him how you really felt. And now it was too late. 

“She’s amazing, Chris. She’s everything and more than what I expected you to end up with.” You gently patted his chest and you felt his heartbeat start to slow. “Seriously. You seem...happier.” 

If only it had been because of you. 

Chris ran his fingers through his hair before pulling you in for a quick hug. “I love you, Y/N. Your approval means everything.” 

You nodded and pulled away from him, trying to put as much distance between the two of you as you could. 

“I’ll see you later, Chris. Welcome home.” You didn’t wait for him to respond before you got into your car and drove off. The tears you had been holding back all night finally falling.

#chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans