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literaila · 3 years

Text

ten seconds of space.

spencer reid x reader

summary: the reader overhears spencer ask for space and well...

warnings: angst, seperation anxiety, intimacy issues, fluff, contridicting myself every sentence.

a/n: hi darlings! so, maybe you know, that a year ago i started writing again. and maybe you also know that exactly a year ago (in two hours!) i posted my first fic called “space”. it was a birthday present to myself, and so now, so is this. if you enjoyed space i hope you’ll enjoy this! (the only differences are.. improvements i hope). thank you for reading, and getting me here.

the first one here.

it was something in the air, sure.

it must’ve been something uncontrollable, unexplainable. something in the air.

that’s why you’re staring at him, now, watching him with a familiar sensation in your stomach.

love, maybe? pain, possibly. maybe it’s just because you haven't eaten anything yet, or maybe this feeling is real. you don’t really care, you know.

you just stare, watch his eyelashes flutter against his cheek and resist the urge to reach out to him. in so many ways, you’re resisting the urge.

it’s mornings like this— since nearly a week ago —that you adore most. mornings when you can just pretend until the alarm goes off. when you don’t have to sleep, cold, next to him.

it’s something in the air, something around you, on mornings like this. if you have to put the blame somewhere— and you do because this is shameful, because this is ridiculous and you hate it —you’re going to put it on the air.

and the sun, and the blankets, and your emotions, and this infuriatingly beautiful man who is lying next to you. and those words, terrible words that just won’t-

it’s an immature deflection that you don’t care to think about.

you breathe in, one, two seconds. then, close your eyes and memorize the scent.

your hand reaches out, your eyes are still closed, not ever daring to actually touch spencer’s skin. (never). but, coming just close enough to his cheek, just right there. the warmth, tiny, superfluous, is just enough to keep your hand from daring any closer.

it’s enough to keep the words at bay. to avoid that swell in your chest.

to make sure he’s still sleeping.

…you didn’t mean to eavesdrop. honestly, you trusted spencer, you trusted your friends, and you knew that spencer would tell you if something was going on.

well, used to.

it wasn’t your fault, really, that you slipped up. that you stood on the other side of the door (cracked only slightly, just enough for you to hear) and listened to every word he said.

it was an accidental pause, one that you might wince at every time you thought back. but still, you didn’t mean to eavesdrop.

especially not when he was talking about you, telling JJ that he-

you breathe in again. force the memory away from the front of your mind. you turn to check the clock, making sure to never let your hand drift too far down, and frown when you catch the numbers.

there’s only a few more minutes left of this morning, of this moment. you want to savour every second, but really, how can you do that when you’re not even supposed to be looking at him in the first place?

a scoff emerges from the silence, not loud enough to wake spencer, but enough to bring your attention back to that feeling in your stomach.

love, you swear. why would you be feeling anything else?

you steal another look. watch his parted lips, breathing, watch his eyebrows, his nose, his cheek, his eyelids, and his skin. his skin.

you’re looking at it all, and you know it’s not really there but you can hear something counting down the seconds in your mind. reminding you that this is it. it’s cruel.

finally, you let one fingertip trail along the space under his eyes, you let one fingertip move across his cheek and bask in the exhilaration. spencer doesn’t stir. doesn’t breathe.

you smile, for only a moment.

and then, there’s ten seconds, and you’re moving away from spencer.

there’s nine seconds and the smile on your face is gone.

there’s eight seconds left, left, and you’re closing your eyes briefly. trying to keep that feeling from tearing through them.

there’s seven seconds and you’re rolling on your side, facing away from him.

six seconds.

and then five, and you whisper the rest of the numbers out loud, you breathe and breathe and there’s only one second left.

you don’t jump when the alarm goes off. you don’t move, you don’t breathe.

spencer is sitting up beside you, always meticulous and dependable.

you breathe in once and feel his hand on your shoulder, shaking you awake. you breathe once and turn to look up at him.

“good morning,” he whispers, notes of sleep around his eyes and a soft smile on his face.

you stare, watch, look. you stare for only one second, just to get a chance to look into his eyes, longing for something that’s not really there. and then as every other day this week—

you’re up and out of bed, away from his eyes, within five seconds. you’re in the other room in six.

when spencer looks at you later that day— at work, several hours after you stopped thinking —you don’t hesitate to smile.

it’s easy, actually, to act normal from across the room.

it’s easy to enjoy the smile you get in response. it’s easy to enjoy it just for a second.

you turn around though, forget the moment ever happened.

it’s exhausting to pretend this is normal, so terribly easy. it’s too much for the middle of the afternoon, for a boring day at work.

you tune those thoughts out and get back to the paperwork you’re supposed to be finishing. you haven’t noticed the looks your teammates have been giving you lately, so you don’t notice now.

really, it’s not that hard to pretend. not this time.

you didn’t mean to eavesdrop when you failed to knock on the door. you didn’t mean to pause, or to turn your head so that you could hear a little bit better.

you didn’t mean to listen, or to turn around a minute later, wet eyes and dry feelings.

it was all an accident.

to be there and to hear. to be taking a file to him at this very moment.

but you are, and you were, and you’re standing there, hanging onto his every word.

“it’s…” there was a murmur, something you couldn’t hear through the door. “suffocating…”

you shouldn’t have been standing there.

“i’m sure y/n isn’t…” the higher voice drifted off, and still, you weren’t supposed to be listening.

“no, no. it’s not them, it’s just-“

this time the voice stopped. you were leaning in closer, curiosity spiked, adrenaline flowing.

you should’ve just walked away.

“i just need some space,” there was something after that, a whisper, a name you knew, a word you could hear. but you were already walking away.

it wasn’t much. it wasn’t a long sentence. it wasn’t anything significant.

except, except. he had whispered your name, just after. he had said the words, the words— that would repeat themselves over and over for god knows how long after —and then he had whispered your name.

i just need some space. he said.

not to you, of course. it was an accident to hear them in the first place.

i just need some space.

you walked away, slouching, unaware of anything else. you tried not to listen, tried not to hear it. begged that pause to erase itself, and begged those words to disappear.

but they couldn’t, and they wouldn’t. and maybe, maybe it wasn’t an accident at all.

at home, you move rooms.

you’re learning, you know. learning how to separate yourself, how to keep your distance, how to be better.

how to. how to. how to.

you decided, moments after those words, seconds after that feeling crawled its way up your neck. you decided that you needed to learn how to give spencer space, how to be okay with some more distance.

and that everlasting question, what are you doing wrong?

, well you had to learn how to fix it.

but you’re still learning. and you still yearn to cuddle with him on the couch when he sits next to you. you still want to play with his hair when he’s sitting at his desk. you still want to drag him to get coffee at two in the morning, and laugh with him when he beats you at chess.

you want it all, but, you have to learn. and so, you learn, you navigate and you try to let it all go. smile at spencer, kiss him in the morning, hand him his file at work, and keep your distance.

it’s a perfectly balanced, perfectly organized routine, but he always tilts the scale when he comes to sit down next to you.

when he watches you in the kitchen, and when he comes into the bathroom with you to brush his teeth.

when it hurts, when it burns, when you ask again, what are you doing… but you still try to discreetly move out of the way. when you smile at him then change rooms and pretend this is all normal.

he walks into the room now, book(s) in hand, a happy smile on his face. he watches you and you pretend not to notice. then, he sits next to you, so close, and leans your way.

he smiles some more and whispers out a gentle “hey, love,” as he opens his book.

you acknowledge him with a short “hey,” so quiet that you’re not sure if he heard.

you breathe while he’s right next to you, try to keep your eyes off his hands and off his face and off of him.

and too many seconds later, you’re getting up. you’re swiftly walking away.

and you don’t turn back to look at him. you’re learning.

there was something to be said about the feel of his skin.

god, you’re not supposed to be doing this.

something there, addictive, exhilarating, an unstoppable tidal wave of emotion. something to be said about the feel of his skin against yours.

you’re supposed to be walking away right now.

something about his hands and his mouth and this kiss that he’s breathing into you.

what are you doing wrong?

you’re kissing him, you know, you’re kissing him because he grabbed onto your waist. you’re kissing him because once he was close enough, once you could practically taste him, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

you’re kissing him because you miss him and because he grabbed onto you while you were walking by because he grabbed on and he wouldn’t let you go and you missed him so much and—

what are you doing wrong?

you’re not supposed to be doing this.

it’s his voice, it’s his face, it’s his skin, it’s his lips, it’s his everything that finally gets you to break away from him with a gasp.

it’s his words, from before, that finally get you to move away, a few steps back, and catch your breath.

spencer is just staring at you, lips raw, eyes glistening.

he’s so beautiful and this is so terrible.

you smile, tight-lipped, trying not to say anything.

“what?” he asks, he’s smiling back, bigger than you. you’re both still panting.

you can hear those words again, louder, pounding in your ears almost as loud as your heart.

this was a mistake, you know.

“i’m tired,” is all you say. not really answering, not really listening.

but it could be true, it might be true. you’re right next to the bed and it’s so easy to slip in and pretend that whatever just happened didn’t happen.

it’s so easy to forget everything, all of it, to leave yourself standing there on the floor while you lay in bed.

it must be easy for spencer too, because, moments later you feel him move in beside you.

you both fall asleep, inches apart.

it's the words that keep you from crying out to him.

it’s the words that stop you from telling him.

it’s those words, so loud, that make sure to lock your secret up. to hide the pain away somewhere no one will ever find it.

except for maybe you, because really, how can you avoid it?

it’s those words, too many and too much, that keep you from talking to spencer. from asking him for help. from begging him for a hug, or a kiss, or even just a glance that lasts longer than five seconds.

you don’t want space, you want to scream at him. but you cant, you won’t, and spencer shouldn’t know. you shouldn’t blame him for the words.

but you hate them, you hate them so much that sometimes you feel as if your chest is going to explode. you think you’re going to collapse if you spend one more night years away from him. you think that you’re almost gone, that you won’t make it. you hate them.

you hate them for making you feel this helpless, for hiding you from spencer. you hate them.

(but maybe. maybe you don’t.

maybe you can’t because they came from him. because they’re a truth that you needed to hear. maybe you love them because they’re so obvious. After all, they’ll keep him here longer.

maybe you love them, secretly.)

it wouldn’t matter if the words weren’t there— pounding in your head, yelling in your ear —anyway, you think.

you and spencer don’t talk much, these days.

you aren’t expecting it, when it comes.

or maybe you are. you can't really remember, to be honest.

but you’ve noticed the looks, the frowns, the raised eyebrows. you noticed, you know. you just ignore it. just ignore it all.

so, when it comes, when he’s finally in front of you, finally there. you aren’t expecting it.

not the quip in his voice.

not the harsh way he asks you what’s going on.

not his never-ending stare.

“what?” you ask back, staring at the floor because there’s not much else to stare at.

“what's going on?” he asks again, softer this time. he's standing in front of you, blocking your way through the door.

you can feel the impatience rising up in your chest. you just want to go lay down, right now. you look up.

“can i pass, spence?”

he looks shocked at the words, and for a moment you wonder if it's because you didnt answer, or because you’ve just called him spence. by the look on his face, you guess it could be both.

you sigh and wait. you’ve been waiting all day.

you still didnt expect it though.

“what?”

“i want to go throu-”

“no, i heard you. i just...” he pauses, turns around and through the door, complying with you. you move past him.

this is cruel of you, some part of you knows, this is cruel. but you’ve learned, you’ve practiced for far too long to stop now.

you cant just stop because spencer asks a question. you cant stop. you wont make another mistake.

the bile rises in your throat. you push it down with a question, you turn it away, slam the door.

spencer is looking at you, watching you grab something out of a drawer. you can feel his eyes on your back.

“what is going on?” he asks again, anger and desperation mixing in his voice this time. you’re glad you cant see his eyes, you note. glad this isnt really happening.

you’ve been playing pretend for a while.

“nothing, spencer,” you say, you mutter, you sigh. you’re very tired, you realize.

“nothing?” he whispers and you turn around to face him. his soft eyes are pleading, now. his face is contorted, his worry is palpable in the air. you dont understand it.

you’ve been acting perfectly normal.

there's a longing in your mind that wishes for it to go away.

you nod at him.

spencer laughs then, a harsh sound in the quiet room. you dont think you understand anything. “nothing?” he repeats, a doubtful question this time. “you arent even looking at me,” he sighs and runs a hand through his hair and your eyes flick up. “you won't even look at me for more than two seconds at a time and theres nothing going on?”

you meet his eyes. dont flinch. this is normal. it's very easy.

“i’m looking at you now,” you offer, a brighter tone, shifting into a happier person in an instant.

spencers eyes are wide. “thats not-” he groans and moves away, turns toward the bed and paces. you can see his impatience with you, you can feel the tension in the air.

and despite everything, the voices, the words, the feeling in your stomach you’re trying to push down, you still have to help. somehow, you have to do more.

“whats wrong, spence? what can i do?” you’re asking, you’re pleading and spencer turns around so fast you have to take a step back.

“what can...” his voice is drifting off as he observes your face, your terribly blank face. hes walking closer, and you’re taking another step back.

its painful, to be standing this close to him. painful, to not scream at him, painful to keep it all hidden behind your perfectly placed mask. your face doesnt move though, despite the pain.

spencer tries again. takes a step forward. you take a step back.

his eyes are frightened, but you can barely tell.

“can i touch you?” he asks, soft, a voice you recognize but cant recall. his eyes are careful, his smile is practiced.

you breathe in and the first flash of emotion hits your eyes. you gulp. can he touch you? you wonder, can he?

“um,” you pause and nod at him, you pause and try to weigh the outcomes. you try not to freeze. “sure,”

your words are quiet but spencer is rushing towards you, hes taking your arm in his hand, and hes trying to meet your eyes but you’re looking at the floor again.

this is so strange. theres something about his skin.

“are you okay?” he asks, he wonders, he pleads with you again.

you laugh, trying to liven your voice, trying to push down that stupid-

you laugh. you nod. “i’m fine,” you say, but your voice is too loud, but you’ve spoken too fast and its coming out wrong.

spencer whispers your name. it takes all your effort not to look up at him. not to move closer, not to suffocate him with your hug, with your kiss. it takes so much effort to breathe out again.

he whispers your name. again.

you dont know if its him, or if its you, but suddenly your chin is up, your eyes are on his and you want to melt under his touch, you want to melt to the floor and disappear into the earth. you want so, so many things that you arent supposed to have.

“are you okay?” hes asking the same questions again and again, but this question is desperate, helpless. you can hear that. he doesnt understand, you know, and thats terrifying.

“why, spencer?” you ask, you demand from him in a soft voice.

you dont need to do this right now. you can just go to bed, you think. you want to move away, you’re sure, but thats such a lie.

he whispers your name again, takes another step toward you. its threatening in a way, terrifying in its advance.

“why?” you demand again. “why now?”

you’re fully in his arms now, his hold quick, strong, as your voice breaks, as your breathing halts. you’re whispering it over and over again, why why why, and spencer doesnt know what to do. he doesnt know whats going on.

so he asks, one more time.

“whats going on, love?”

that feeling is there now, you know, that feeling that is just pain, just longing, just nothing and everything and so much. unbearable, strong, malicious.

“i’m just trying to give you space,” you sob out, turning, wrapping yourself in him, breathing in the scent of his sweater. you’re crying, but you cant feel the tears. and you’re shaking, but you cant feel your limbs.

you think, briefly, that spencer must be holding you up but you dont know.

spencer, in reality, is frozen. hes repeating your words in his head. hes going over them like an equation, something he cant solve.

just the same as you.

the two of you, together, think over and over and over again. the words that have been stuck in your head for so long.

space. space. space.

its such an evil little word and its attacking you both. you hate it.

“you heard,” spencer whispers against your head, maybe in awe, maybe in shock. “you werent supposed to hear that,”

you laugh but it comes out as more of a sob.

spencer is apologizing, whispering to you, saying “shh, shh,” in your ear. hes trying to console you, but he barely even knows how you figured it out, why you havent spoken to him.

hes recalling everything thats happened, every kiss, every passing touch, every step you’ve taken away from him.

this is all so shocking.

you werent expecting any of this. you didnt expect this.

“it was an accident,” you say when you get a moment to breathe, when you gasp just enough to finally take in air. you’re not sure why you’re crying. maybe its spencers hands, or maybe its his voice, or maybe its just the pain in your stomach and in your chest and resting on your throat.

spencer, then, is grasping at your wrists which are clawing at his shirt, hes trying to breathe with you, trying to get you to look at him. hes trying so hard, but you cant tell.

it takes a minute, and then, his hands are just soft enough to make you focus, you make you look at him again. they’re enough to breathe.

“i’m so sorry,” he whispers, void of explanation, eyes pained looking at your face. you rub a rough palm over your cheek, wiping the tears away, trying to claw at something that isnt there. your skin feels raw, your chest feels split open.

you’re not sure how it happened.

“spencer,” is all you say.

“i- i dont-” he sighs and looks down, away from your eyes, sending pangs through your chest again.

theres something unspoken in the air, your heart beats louder, your chest feels tighter. you dont know what to say next.

spencer speaks for you. “i’m so sorry,” he repeats, hands grasping onto your face, holding your eyes on his.

the feeling is so unfamiliar, so strange after weeks of not touching him properly, weeks of getting by with nothing more than a sharp kiss. weeks of nothing, and more and more silence between the two of you. weeks of unbearable, undeniable, pain.

your mind is reeling in relief but your body doesnt trust him yet. you cant relax.

he feels the tension, he feels you pause every time he shifts. its doubt, you both know, unspoken in the air. trust, spencer knows now, is gone. trust, you realize then, has been broken.

trust, has never been your strong suit.

“i’m sorry,” its another whisper, another plea, another sentence full of nothing.

and you, you’re just sitting there. you’re just waiting, just listening to him, just trying to trust him with all the fervor you used to have.

“what happened?” you choked, voice sore.

spencer, took a deep breath. the contraction of his chest was clear against your body, your hand, still latched on to him.

and then,

“avoidant personality disorder affects around 2.5 percent of the population,” he pauses, looks at your face. “it- it affects both men and women equally, and usually, it um, it tends to start early on in childhood.”

you dont say anything, just watch his eyes, so strange now.

spencer laughs, but its sad. its lonely. “my mom, she never mentioned anything like it. i didnt even really know what it was until-” a breath. “until i- i started studying psychology and-”

he stops. looks away from you.

and you dont know where this is going, you dont understand yet. you’re not like him, you cant piece together a puzzle, solve an equation. you can only listen.

you’re not sure if you’re hearing clear enough.

spencer looks at you again, stares for a second. swallows. “even when i learned what it was i didnt believe that i might- that i would have it.”

he stops again.

you hear the words. you hear and still you ask,

“you think you have it?”

spencer, who is still looking at you, still holding you even though you’re not sure how he can stand it, laughs. he laughs and looks down and frowns then looks up. you cant tell what hes feeling.

“no, i’m saying i do.”

“oh.”

hes speaking some more, teaching you. “a lot of people dont realize that intamcy issues fluctate-- that one day someone can be completely okay and then the next they feel irritated and uncomfortable-”

and.

“social isolation is a common symptom of avoidant personality disorder-”

he tells you more. speaks so fast that its hard to keep up.

“it can span out from abandonment issues, or fear of rejection. kids with deep-rooted trauma are more likely to experience it-”

he tells you so many things, so many facts.

and then he stops.

spencer is holding your head in his hands again, grasping, pleading for something that you dont understand. hes making you look at him with suddenly desperate eyes. “i never meant to hurt you, though. i promise,”

you blink at him, then nod, eyebrows furrowed.

“i didnt you to hear that conversation with JJ- and i still wish you hadnt because i was so...i was..” he draws off, nervous, eyes looking back and forth.

your chest is burning, that pain is still there, still ringing. some voice in your head, spencers maybe, whispers the word again.

you flinch, almost away from spencer. scared. “you were what?”

“i was wrong,”

a moment pauses, spencer is staring, waiting for your reaction.

and then, after a breath, you laugh. manically. too loud.

spencer is confused, hes concerned.

you keep laughing, leaning back to cluch at your waist, leaning away from him and laughing. you dont know why this is funny, you’re not sure, but it is.

“you’re-” you start, giggling some more. “you’re a genius-” you’re running out of breath, and the tears are falling out of your eyes again, and spencer is still just staring. “you were wrong!” you exclaim, almost mockingly, almost seriously.

spencer though, still isnt laughing.

he waits, waits for you to calm down, to look at him again, and then he moves away from you, taking a step back.

you frown, but his hands are finding yours. his hands are grasping yours with a grip you dont expect. you hold your breath while he stares again.

“i was wrong,” he repeats, earnestly, urgently. “i didnt realize it until a couple of nights ago, when you moved away after we kissed. when you-”

you try to interrupt, to explain but he continues, breathless.

“when you looked at me like you were terrified, like you were making a mistake. you just stared at me for three seconds, and then you left. you didnt explain, didnt speak.”

“spencer, i-” you start.

spencer is leaning over to kiss your forehead, to hold you softly in a hug you’ve been waiting weeks for.

its so strange, to stand here like this.

“i realized you were avoiding me then.” spencer says, whispers. “i missed you so much and i didnt even realize it,”

you breathe in. shocked.

“i’m sorry,”

“no,”

“yes, love, i never wanted you to feel like that. to hurt you like i did, like i am.” spencer looks ashamed but you press on, scowl on your face.

“no, no, no.” you move back, stare at him with hard eyes with a soft face. “i needed to know, spencer. if you need something, even distance from me, than i needed to know.”

you know thats why you listened, you know that your pause had a reason. it was never an accident to know the truth-- to give spencer what he needed.

it was easy, when you thought thats what he wanted.

“i was wrong, though-”

“i needed to know.”

spencer stares at you, for the millionth time. he looks at your unwavering eyes, your stern faces. he sees it, the fear, the worry that he’ll move back, or leave, or run away from you. he can see it.

but you, you’re just standing there. you, you changed everything just so he would be happy.

he sees the sacrifice now, curses himself for it.

but all he says is “okay,” and then, taking a step forward, he repeats it. “okay.”

“okay?” you ask, voice small.

“yes, okay. i will tell you. i’ll tell you everything,” he promises, intense eyes, and stronghold on you.

he pulls you in again.

its enough. its enough to fade that pain down into a simmer, to turn trust inside out again, to straighten the pins you’ve put up on the wall.

the words are there still, but they’re distant, like the chime of an old clock, but quiet. broken.

its so overwhelming, to be in his arms again.

but you fall, even still, you hold him back even tighter than before, you trust that hes going to stay there.

and the ten seconds start again.

you’re scared, still, with nine seconds. scared that this isnt going to last, that hes going to change his mind, that hes going to realize hes right.

you’re breathing, at eight seconds, thinking about these weeks without him, about this comfort in his eyes, in his arms. you’re thinking about how hes here right now, about how thats the only thing that matters.

you’re smiling at seven seconds, tick-tock, as you breathe him in, as you taste the air and realize that theres always been something about his touch.

at six seconds, hes whispering in your ear, a quiet “i love you” a meaningful promise that you’ve missed dearly.

at five, you’re whispering back, you’re promising, you’re breathing, you’re trying not to think, trying not to worry.

at four, you’re kissing his lips, you’re molding yourself to him once again.

at three, hes gripping your waist, kissing you like he never has before.

at two, you’re whispering “stay” against his lips, tasting him, pulling him, begging him. you’re not afraid to speak this time, and you dont need to pull back.

and then and then and then, you’re holding each other and theres only one second left, theres just one tiny little moment left.

and it’ll last a lifetime.

my masterlist here.

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fan #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid fluff #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #Criminal Minds Reid #criminal minds smut #spencer reid smut #spencer reid series

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bre95611 · 3 years

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HI! I’m finally rewatching 15x17 so I’m doing an in-depth(ish?) super stoned commentary! Hooray!

Before I get into it, I just really have to say, god I love this season so so so much. The writing has just been beautiful, and it has me EMOTIONAL af. Anyway. Here we go!

I always like looking at the Then/Now scenes. I feel they can ring some really important storywide context to the show. A great example of this is the Pizza Man montage. This episode it starts with the conversation from a few episodes back with Dean and Sam discussing Jack killing God.

I’ve found the Dean/Amara relationship very interesting. After how it was played up in the 15x15 Gimme Shelter, always from Dean’s perspective in a joking manner. I believe it was @verobatto-angelxhunter that discussed the Big Married Energy it gave off, Dean teasing Castiel about a woman from his past. Season 11, as the beginning of the Dabb era, has been calling my name for a rewatch lately, especially with Amara being brought back. Its always been established that the connection Dean and Amara have was not something Dean liked. It wasn’t actual attraction. I’ll talk more about this later.

I have made some random posts here and there talking about the symmetry in endings between Season 11 and Season 15, I will also dig into this more later.

Saw a post about the amount of times “world” is said, want to keep track of that. I know there is a heavy Destiel attachment, and the second time it is said is during the Then sequence, Chuck’s dialogue from the episode with the tvs, talking about how its time to clear the board. (Want to look into Chess mentions this season, maybe even Dabb era as a whole? Because obviously there’s been a game going on at the cosmic level for quite some time). It doesn’t show the scene where Dean and Cas in the kitchen comes up on the tv where Chuck calls them “the world”. but it does have that section of dialogue as t screens are being shown, bringing that to mind.

Then we have Meg 2.0 as The Shadow, Cas is confused why he is being harmed since they’re on the same side. The Shadow makes their loyalty known. Keep this in mind. Will touch on this later as well.

Shit this is a lot for the episode not even starting yet. Below the cut for more!

God Amara is a QUEEN and I love her SO MUCH.

Sam tells Cas to “just get home” cause the Bunker is his FUCKING HOME

One thing I’ve seen brought up a lot is how Dean is always very action focused. Solve the problem at hand, “cross that bridge when we get to it” type of mentality. His plans always revolve around that. Cas and Sam are always very focused on there being another way, how there is always another way, especially when one oftheir lives are at stake. Sam calls him out. Sam wouldn’t care if Dean was saying that all the time if it were actually true, wouldn’t wonder if he ever got tired of saying it if they did only ever have one choice. TFW always subverts the problem at hand. Last season, their only shot of beating Michael was the Malak Box. Season 11 was soul bomb Dean, 13 was Dean saying yes to Michael. Ya’ll see a theme yet? Dean loves to sacrifice himself. Sam’s done the same exact thing, closing the Hell gates, letting out Lucifer. Cas’s whole thing in Season 6? They’ve all done the same things. over and over. Hamster wheel. Think of what made all those endings obsolete? What made them find another way, huh?

Fuck that paragraph went somewhere I wasn’t originally taking it, but still a good take IMHO.

I’m loving the SUITS!

I really hope that Amara is not gone. I know I’ve seen some stuff that talks about why that has to have been her last episode, but whatever. Imma still dream. And I really might have to just write a fix-it fic after the finale about Aunt Amara and Jack hanging out.

I just noticed world again (Dean to Amara: saving the whole world’s ass)

“You and I will always help each other.” That look on Dean’s face when she said that. Not the face of someone enjoying being flirted with by and “ex-flame” or whatever the hell

Saw a post about the generational family story that was being told (I believe it was @occamshipper) that basically has Sam is to Jack as Dean was to Sam growing up (Dean is John and Cas is Mary, super awesome read, will try to find and link in a bit). This whole family arc is about breaking the toxic circle, being a better parent than your parents, found family kinda things. So how has Dean reacted to Sam in these situations? Most recently, I think, is season 8, with the Trials. Sam was sacrificing himself, he knew that, he was okay with it. Sam was suicidal by the end of it, and Dean does what he normally does with Sam and keeps him from finishing the trials, and season 9 starts with Dean completely taking away his autonomy again, allowing Gadreel to possess him. Dean was angry, he was disappointed, he acted like Dean, and that is the kind of treatment he gets from his “big brother” father figure. But Sam breaks through his treatment, tells Jack he is brave and validates him, and doesn’t try and take away his FREE WILL.

Sam continues the path he started on when he told Dean to stop as he continuously made excuses/explained why he had kept things from Sam about Jack. He grows!! I love to see it!! He does NOT give up his FREE WILL. Guys I’m loving it. These boys are actively making HARD decisions and we are seeing growth in real time. TFW in every form has...not really lived up to its name? Sure, the world gets free will, but the boys never do. And not just in situations like they’re told they can’t do something. I’m talking constant violations of each other’s bodily autonomy. Dean all the time with Sam, Cas when he takes down the Hell wall from Sam’s mind, honestly....mostly its Sam having it violated. But the other guys have to stop fucking with it. They all need a variation. Dean needs the Free Will to stop being his father’s soldier, to live his true non performative life. Cas needs to be free of his self doubt. Permission to be happy, not happy in and of itself. Jack needs Free Will to be a fucking toddler.....

Sam SEES it dude, he knows something isn’t right, and he’s the one that figured it out like, every other time this season, too. Jesus. Dean is so desparately caught up in wanting to get the hell OUT of the hamster wheel, he’s too blind to see how deep into it he is. The first plan ANYONE gives him, he goes with it. He’s literally followed Billie’s plan because of one of her books before, and what happened? Cas and Sam brought him back from sacrificing himself.

I’ve really enjoyed how much Sam and Dean are fighting, honestly. Like, my spec for a while now has been that the brothers are going their seperate ways at the end of all this, the only way to satisfyingly bring an impactful end to their toxic codependency that they’ve been chipping away at for the last few seasons.

Guys I’m suuuuuuuper baked,

Dean says “Someone’s gotta be the grownup here” talking to Sam about taking Jack to do the final ritual. Dean is fully his father, talking to the “older brother” Sam protecting the “special child” Jack. Dean is not breaking the cycle established by his father, going mad with rage over his circumstances

Jesus Christ the LOOK ON SAM’S FACE when Dean says Jack’s not family. I’m dead. He looks so broken.

That line though is.....hm. All through season 14 and 15, its been established that Jack is family, their kid. When Lily Sunder comes back to help get his soul, Dean makes comments about not making them go through what she did with her daughter, and again to Belphegor in 15 when asked who he was (after a fight between Dean and Cas no less, calls him “our kid”). So this is how far Dean has spiralled? This is how he is choosing to try and deal with knowing Jack will die? Denial of his importance?

“He’s not like you. He’s not like Cas.” Dean feels he holds a different relationship with Cas than he does with Sam. Just...sayin....

Jared’s acting is......truly just phnomenal.

Man, i feel like the music is off? and it makes me think its intentional, cause Becky says something about how there’s no classic rock? So foreshadowing? nah.

This really does feel like....the last real Sam and Cas interaction. It is heart breaking really.

Alright, I’m posting this now......cause I literally just got to the first commercial break.... So

This is pt 1 I guess.

#spn 15x17 spoilers #spn 15 spoilers #spn spec #spn meta #my meta #my spec

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bookishnerdhero · 5 years

Text

ROTBTD - OUAT AU Episode 2 (Part 3)

If you came here not having read the first Episode then you might want to check that one out first. Here's the LINK to the very first post for this Fic. Otherwise this part is pretty confusing.

ROTBTD - The Big Four – OUAT AU

Present

“Hey Jack! Cool! I ran into you!”

Jamie approached Jack in the town’s small public library, Sandy’s library. The one time in that week Jack had decided to loiter in the library, the one kid whose principal father practically threatened Jack not to hang out with decided to find him. Again. This wasn’t the first time he ‘ran into’ Jack this week.

“Yeah, real cool. Keep it down, we’re in a library,” Jack said, even though there was nobody else around and he wasn’t actually reading anything. He was actually just scrolling absently through his phone, liking memes and videos about people doing elaborate backflips. Sandy’s library’s got really good Wi-Fi.

Right on cue, Sandy smiled from behind the counter and tapped at an embroidered sign that said ‘Reading Time is Quiet Time’ which he bought from Etsy. The lettering was in gold, just like most of Sandy’s decorations and furniture in the library.

“Oh. Sorry,” Jamie said sheepishly.

“For real, are you following me?”

“No. I came here to return these.” He’d placed three hardcover books onto the counter and bunched his cheeks up as he smiled, a look of total innocence. There was a book about Vikings, another about Scottish highlands and clans, and the final was about dragons. Jack couldn’t help remembering the conversation with Hugo about his dragon sketch as he picked up the book. They didn’t seem to be interrelated topics.

“Dragons?”

“I’m doing research.”

“I see.”

This probably also had something to do with comparing Hugo with the Viking in his fairytale book the other day; Jack was sure but somehow knew better than to point it out. Every now and then he’d mention something about Jack Frost, in Jack’s case, and the Viking in the story…what did he call it? Hector, was it? He didn’t really understand Jamie’s game and his interests, maybe it was his version of Dungeons and Dragons or maybe Pitchener wouldn’t allow internet privileges. It didn’t matter. In all fairness, he didn’t really know the kid so he shouldn’t be quick to judge nor should he feel obligated to stick around and be buddy-buddy with him. Jack St. North doesn’t really hang out too much with anyone to begin with. He was invisible but was used to it. The last thing he needed was for people like Pitchener calling him a bad influence when he was, really, just minding his own business. Still, that was rude and Jack hated being made to feel like he was nothing directly.

Sandy took in the books, touching his lips and pointing his hand in a sign of thanks before gesturing at the rest of the library.

“That’s alright. I have a big test tomorrow and my dad doesn’t want me to do any recreational reading until it’s done,” Jamie said, unshouldering his backpack and already walking over to where Jack was near the counter.

Jack was seated in his favorite spot. There were two comfy armchairs beneath the window and a small coffee table where Jack wasn’t supposed to place his feet on. Sometimes Jack liked to sit around and chat with Sandy in the library during afternoons since he wasn’t interested in extra-curricular activities, and occasionally if he happened to skip a class he couldn’t stand. Sandy didn’t really give him too hard a time about it, though he’d eventually have to think up a better explanation to Nicholas. There would always be tea with a little honey for Sandy and some hot cocoa for him, and sugar cookies from a small pantry out back. In a way, the library was a like a sanctuary where Jack could go whenever he gets tired of wandering—since he liked to wander around town and into the woods surrounding it.

When Jamie sat himself down in the chair opposite him Jack considered whether it was a good idea to lightly suggest that maybe he could look for friends his own age who could also be interested in fairytales. Maybe all he needed was a pep talk that they’re out there and he’d have more in common with them, because Jack didn’t really expect that when Jamie said they were ‘friends’ he really meant ‘friends’ as if he expected they would spend more time together. He promised no such thing. Yet somehow Jamie had already sent him a friend request in all his social media platforms and asked him about it, so he couldn’t exactly ignore them, and already made a group chat with Hugo in it. He named the group ‘Operation Nightfury’, which Hugo seemed to understand the context of from reading the book. He already didn’t have friends of his own judging by the sad amount of memes he’d kept tagging only to Jack and Hugo. He wondered if Pitchener was seeing them because he really didn’t start this.

“So where’s Hiccup?”

“Who?”

“You know, your Viking friend?”

“Oh, the game again. And you mean Hugo. I have no idea where he is, we don’t exactly keep tabs.”

“Really? Jack Frost and Hiccup were really close, though,” Jamie rambled, “Sometimes Jack Frost appears, just when Hiccup needs him the most, and would give him advice. They’d just run into each other. See, Hiccup sometimes forgets to find the fun in things when he gets caught up in the responsibilities of being the next Viking chief.”

“Okay, you lost me. I don’t really know how to follow, I’ve never read the book.”

Jamie legitimately looked sad for a second that Jack wondered if he felt insulted or made fun of. Maybe it was his tone which tended to sound like he didn’t take anything seriously. But the little boy suddenly shifted into a cheery disposition once again, voice all pitchy.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to be weird—“

“No, no, you’re not weird,” Jack said quickly, because he didn’t actually want Jamie to feel bad, there’s really nothing wrong with having an imagination. “It’s me. I just don’t get it. I’m a slow learner.”

“I know I shouldn’t bother people with these fairytales. It’s just that after my real dad would tell me these stories, I would tell it to my little sister and we’d…make a game out of it. Yeah. W-we would imagine people we knew playing the characters in the book…so she would think the world was a little more magical.”

“Wait, sister? You have a sister.”

Now Jamie allowed himself to appear a little sadder about this. “We er...got seperated.”

“Oh.” Jack didn’t ask more. “I'm...sorry to hear that.”

“I don't even know where she is anymore. But, I think...if I could find my dad, he'd be able to find her.”

Jack wasn't so sure a father who abandoned his kids to the foster system in the first place should be allowed to locate the other kid, but he figured he needed to give Jamie some hope. Since his first meeting with Jamie he managed to ask Hugo a bit more about what he knew about his situation. Rumor has it that he was just around six or seven when Pitchener adopted him. No one said anything about a sister and maybe for good reason. He nodded along, genuinely sympathetic.

“She was my responsibility,” Jamie continued, “It feels like I abandoned her.”

“Trust me, kid. It's probably not your fault.” He almost couldn’t look at Jamie. At that instant, he saw too much of himself in the brown haired boy. Jack couldn’t even remember his own childhood memories, but the absence was heavy on him. It was as if he was always searching for something or someone, never really knowing if he’d ever find them. “What was her name?”

“Sophie.”

He remembered one of the voices in his dream last night, before the moon woke him up.

The sky is awake. So I'm awake.

Please tell me a bedtime story, Daddy.

Something in Jack's heart tugged when he heard the name. He thought maybe because all this talk about family and loss reminded him of his own family. Maybe he knew someone named Sophie in his old memories.

"Are you okay?" Jamie asked. It must’ve shown in Jack’s face that he was bothered by something.

"What? It's nothing."

"Do you think maybe I could see her again someday?"

"Hey, now, of course. It's a small world," Jack said. "You never really know who you'll run into."

The library door flew open, as if on cue, and three girls from Disney High clustered in. The uniforms, with the school logo of a castle and an arch over it, were a giveaway. They weren’t noisy, since this was a library, but their presence in the once quiet library made it a little less. Sandy made a welcoming gesture as the girls greeted him.

“Hey, Sandy! Have you got anything new?” a girl with a ponytail secured by a blue bow said while returning an armful of books. Sandy responded with warmth as if this girl was a regular in the library. He proceeded to show her to the Fiction section, while the two other girls seemed deep in animated conversation by the counter. One girl had her dark curly hair up in a sensible bun and was surveying a magazine rack, picking up one about baking. The other girl, Jack was too busy staring at. He couldn’t really pay attention to what they were talking about. It was her. It was the girl from the café. Her hair was styled up a little differently and she looked different in her school uniform. More regal somehow. She actually tilted her head at Jack and he tried to act like he wasn’t just staring.

She probably saw. Jack pretended to be more interested in his phone.

“Why don’t you talk to her?”

“What?” Jack said, flustered and too obvious because he didn’t expect even the kid would notice him.

“That girl?”

He checked to see if the girl heard Jamie.

“I don’t know are you talking about and even if I did it would probably be a better idea to keep our voice down in a library.”

"Because you were looking at her like this.” Jamie made a goofy expression that could not have been his, he must be exaggerating.

“Now why would I do that?”

"Don't you feel the connection?"

"Next you're gonna’ tell me that in that book she's supposed to be, what? Mother Nature? The Easter Bunny?"

"The Easter Bunny's a man...well, bunny, but he's Mr. E. Aster."

"E. Aster? My dad’s friend, also known as my World History teacher who may or may not hate me? You've got to be kidding me."

"It makes sense! Who else would know so much about the world but the Easter Bunny? He's got portals he could hop to at any minute--"

"Okay, okay. I get it.”

Jack stopped, quirked an eyebrow, because the girl was giggling to herself as she watched them, albeit also responding to what the other girl was saying. She was just looking at him.

"Now come on! You clearly have a crush on her, so you might as well talk!"

"You have a no sense of personal boundaries!" Jack replied, but he could already feel himself getting convinced. She was looking at him! She was looking at him!

"I'll be your wing man!"

"Where are you getting all this? You're ten!"

"Come on, Jack! What fun comes out of doing nothing?"

Jack was taken aback from that. It sounded like something he would tell himself before doing something stupid. "Alright. Alright. I'm talking. Not like anything bad is going to happen, so fine."

Jack approached her as casually as he could, walking into an aisle in front of the one she had just ducked into. What was he thinking saying that? Of course this was dumb. He turned around to go back but Jamie was giving him a thumbs up and he couldn’t make things worse by suddenly fleeing so he fumbled through the shelves.

“Uhm, you go on ahead.” He heard the girl say.

He glanced at the book he’d randomly picked, Snow Country by Yasunari Kawabata and proceeded to pretend to be flipping intently through it. But he can only scan a book’s pages so much without really looking at the text, especially when he was actually stalking someone. Where was he going with —?

He looked up and they were seeing each other through the book shelves.

“Hi.” He found himself saying. His voice was, thankfully, normal but he felt a little self-conscious with how deep his normal was. Also, had it always been this quiet?

“Hi,” she said.

“I’ve seen you before,” he said around the same time she mumbled something along the lines of “Have I seen you before?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes.”

“The, er, Cass’ Café, just up the street from here.”

She nodded as he spoke. “Lucky Cat Café, yes, I ran into you.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.”

“You, er, often go to Lucky Cat Café?”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

There was a moment of painful silence where he had no idea what to say next and whether or not he could just nod and retreat. He’d caught her attention, it was too late, and all he kept saying was ‘yeah’.

He looked back at where he wanted to retreat to and caught sight of Jamie watching him, mouthing “Say something!” with apparent exasperation. He made his eyes go wide and tried to tell him to ‘chill’ without exactly saying it. Unfortunately, the kid and his movements were grandiose enough that the girl saw it as well.

"Kids.” He tried to shrug it off but it doesn’t seem like an explanation but a dead give-away of what this was, so he might as well roll with it. Accept that it was an attempt at flirting.

"I understand. I have a younger sister. You two are lucky to be close."

"Oh, he's not my brother. Just a friend. New kid in town, decided to show him around."

"I see.” She held her chin with her thumb and forefinger in a gesture of thoughtfulness. “I never pegged you for the warm and hospitable type."

"Pegged me? Wait, you've seen me before? I mean, before-before?"

It took her a minute to reply because she realized she said something to make herself obvious now too. "Around. Yes. I notice a lot of people."

Jack smirked, he couldn’t help it. "And here I thought people barely acknowledge that I exist."

"I find that hard to believe," she said under her breath.

"What?"

"I mean, people. Unbelievable sometimes."

"Eva? I found what I was looking for, you coming?" the girl with the blue bow in her hair said. The two other girls were now waiting for her by the counter and were raising their eyebrows at Jack.

"Oh, er, yes."

“Eva?” he tried out her name. “So I guess I’ll just wait and see if you’ll be around at the café again sometime. Assuming you don’t see me first.”

She made an awkward laugh and covered her mouth as she backed away from the aisle. The three girls walked to the door and he saw the other two taking glances back at him, each playfully elbowing Eva now and then.

“Okay now, who was that?” the girl with a bun and, now, a cookbook in her arms asked.

“I don’t know. I—“ she was trying hard not to smile. Trying.

“Mm-hmm.”

“I’ve never seen him before,” the other girl with a blue bow and, now, a larger stack of books said.

“I’m so stupid. I forgot to ask his name.”

Jack acted like he wasn’t really listening all the while, sauntering back into his seat with the copy of Snow Country still in his hands. It was only after he heard her say it that he realized he’d forgotten to tell her his name, but hopefully it means he’ll still see her again. He’ll definitely keep an eye out for her.

"You're blushing."

"No I'm not."

"You do like her."

It was only a little later that they left the library, right after Sandy gave them snacks and started teasing Jack about the girl too. Jamie insisted on following Jack, since he was going to wait at the café again and wanted to tell him about the story of the friendship between the queens of the Enchanted Forest. It was in the middle of telling him a particularly different version of Princess and the Frog than he remembered that they bumped into Audrey.

"Hey, er...what's your name again?" Audrey, who normally couldn’t be bothered to even talk to Jack, asked.

"Jack. It's a very common name.” And his situation in town should’ve made it very hard to miss. “How come people forget?"

"Oh, yeah, right,” she continued dismissively, “I was looking for Hugo. Have you seen him? He was supposed to be at Hockey practice today but he bailed out. Again."

"I didn't think he got to play Hockey. Or liked to."

"Yeah, but you know his dad."

Jack raised an eyebrow.

"Never mind. You wouldn't understand. I've been trying to help him but if he doesn't show up there's nothing I can do.” She had a hand on her hip and a particular expression of disappointment that suggested this wouldn’t be the first time. “Anyway, if you see him, tell him I was looking for him."

She didn’t have to wait for Jack to respond before going ahead.

***

Past

Merida had her bow drawn. Her heart was beating madly and it occurred to her how stupid it was for her to have wandered off alone. Especially now with sinister things at large in these parts of the woods. It was too late, of course, and she was now face to face with—

“Pitch Black.”

“The one and only,” the man replied with a silvery voice. He had such a presence about him that suggested fear—cold, endless, fear. His face was corpse-like, sunken eyes staring back at her like an almost empty skull. Most of the first few seconds with this monster was spent with him circling her; whether studying or taunting her, she wasn’t sure. The words he’d bought up again were about her and Hiccup, stitching together whatever doubts she’d had in the cave to what he’d warned her earlier in the woods.

"You know what they say, that's just how the story goes."

"What are you going on about?" she tried to tamp down whatever bad feeling she had while in his presence, suppressing all of her doubts about what just happened. The Dark One can sense desperation, she remembered from Maudie’s tales to the triplets. You best wish you’d never see him in the wood. To see him is a bad omen.

"Did you think you were meant to be? If anything I'd say you were nothing but star-crossed.” He obviously talking about her and Hiccup, trying to get to her. She backed away slowly in an attempt to run off, but he reappeared at her side.

“I know how these stories go--the hero goes off to do the right thing," he continued with a thin smile. He gestured with his arms, making shadows materialize in thin air, showing her a dream vision or a nightmare vision. Dark magic. "The story should go that he defeats great threats against his people, marries Astrid and leads the Vikings with their Dragons, forging a new path and name his once small village.” Small shadow versions of the Vikings and their dragons appeared in the space between her and Pitch, the village of Berk rising and improving before her eyes.

“He will be the greatest chieftain the the Hairy Hooligan Tribe and the isle of Berk has ever seen and finally bring honor to his father’s reputation. A true happy ever after.” He paused to see her reaction before saying, with such relish, “You're just getting in the way."

"I didn't...I didn't ask for us to meet,” Merida said after the shadows faded.

"The only reason why the two of you met is because you tried to change your fate and now everyone else's fates would suffer for it. Including..." he takes her by the chin and makes her look at another vision where Hiccup is surrounded by the highlanders in the ring of stones, "his."

"No!” She threw her arm over the shadow and then faced the Dark One with as much fierceness as she could muster. “Why are you showing me this? What do you want?"

"Let's just say I have a general concern about all things happening in this land. I keep tabs, you see. Your kind of love would bring nothing but conflict to either one of you or both your people. Though I couldn't care less how that turns out, details, details, I'm what you would call...an opportunist. I see a person in desperate need of an answer, I go and give them another option."

His smile was anything but trustworthy.

"And what is that?"

"Ready to make a deal, are we?"

"I don't even know what you're trying to propose. I've dealt with complicated bargains in the past, I'm not about to make another mistake. I won't go through with this." She tried to leave again and this time it almost seemed like he would let her go. There was nothing in her way but a part of her stayed to listen.

"But what if I tell you there was a way for you to have both? Be in the arms of your lover,” he said, forming new shadows, “and ensure the safety of your kingdom?"

It was as if the whole wood went silent.

"State your terms."

"Have you ever heard of a forgetting spell?"

(End of Part 3)

Episode 1

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Episode 2

Part 1

Part 2

Tag List: @rose-sparks13 @beautifulslimezonkpaper @rosesnvines@jewishicequeen @hiddenwriterspirit @shiroi-majo

Just let me know in the comments if you want to be tagged!

Thanks for reading!

#the big four ouat au #the big four fanfiction #jelsa #mericcup #jelsa fanfiction #merricup fanfiction #rise of the brave tangled dragons #rotbtd au #rotbtd fandom #rotbtd fanfiction #jack frost #elsa frozen #merida #hiccup horrendous haddock III #Merida and Hicccup #Merrida x Hiccup

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