#for the fourth: the author is gonna think and do whatever they think and do entirely independent of the response of the audience
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Don't want to put this on the post itself for risk of derailing it, but that post the other day about Terry Pratchett's early work really stuck in my mind. OP had sent in an ask saying that they heard some of Pratchett's earlier works had problematic elements (not unusual for a male english writer in the 80s) and they weren't sure whether to go ahead with reading the work anyway.
What I really want to ask that person, or indeed all persons who are hesitating over whether or not to read problematic works or works by imperfect authors:
What are you worried about happening, if you read a work with problematic elements?
I'm worried that if I read this art, I will run across hateful images or words that will shock or upset me
I'm worried that I will spend money on a work of art that then financially supports a bad person, and that thought makes me uncomfortable or upset
I'm worried that I will read works of art written by a bad person, and comment or react on them, and other people will see what I am reading and will think less of me because of it, or will assume that I hold the same bad beliefs as the author
I'm worried that I will read works of art written by a bad person, and I will enjoy them, and the author will find out about my enjoyment and feel emboldened to do bad things because of it
I'm worried that I will read works of art written by a bad person, and their badness will contaminate my way of thinking and make me a worse person in turn
Because these are all different answers and some of them are more actionable than others
#salty sunday#for the first: it's up to you whether you want to take that risk but keep in mind you can always stop if you feel discomfort.#this isn't school and nobody is going to require a book report from you on it#for the second: whether the author is even still alive let alone receiving proceeds from the work is something you can check on#if they're a more classic author and their estate/family is still getting proceeds you can decide whether you feel the issues of the author#are something worth punishing their family over#for the third: you can't control what other people think. don't try.#for the fourth: the author is gonna think and do whatever they think and do entirely independent of the response of the audience#assuming they even found out what you think ever which is very unlikely. see above about not being able to control what other people think#for the fifth: moral contamination is not a thing. kick the little fascist voice out of your head. be free
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and if I'm gonna be drunk, I might as well be drunk in love
You squint your eyes at the pink neon sign flickering against the fake moss tapestry to the left of the bar. A young couple poses in front of it, smiling at their mutual friend who holds the phone to take a picture. Beautiful, radiant, charming. All while you sit on the barstool, hunched over the half-empty cocktail that you swirl in your grip, relishing the condensation on the rim of the glass. With your straw, you stab at the maraschino cherry floating around in there, popping it into your mouth. The sweetness cuts through the bitter liquor, or loneliness, lingering on your tongue and you think that maybe tonight isn’t so bad, despite your sulking.
It's another happy hour, courtesy of your boss. Everyone on your team is here, who you genuinely get along with, no problem. But there’s one person missing, the one person you want to see the most. Nanami is the only one to decline tonight’s invitation to the new trendy bar downtown. During your lunch together, you don’t ask why. You don’t want him to suspect that you’re devastated by his decision, which you are. So, you talk about how much you’re craving cake instead, changing the topic all together, hoping he doesn’t catch the hint of sadness in your tone.
Ever since he walked you home in the rain the other week, protected under his umbrella, there’s been this obvious vibe between you. Still, it could all be wishful thinking on your end. You never did get around to confessing your true feelings for him; you’d rather enjoy what you have as it is. Why ruin something good? There’s the hope that maybe things could be even better if you take this leap of faith. But it’s always terrifying taking the plunge, isn’t it? Especially when you don’t know if you’ll sink or swim.
It was by the fourth cocktail that you decided to leave your group gathered around the back table. That’s why you’re here now, sulking between strangers at the bar, chewing on your tiny straw until it’s gnarled on one end. Your friends on the team know the real reason, trying to dismiss all the jokes from your more annoying coworkers about how you must be missing your “work husband”. Even they’re shipping the two of you together. If only you knew what Nanami truly thinks about all this. About you.
To your complete shock, it doesn’t take you long to find out. Still in his work attire, Nanami walks through the front door, hair swept beautifully as always. As soon as his eyes find yours, he smiles, making his way to you. It’s only when he approaches you that you notice a small box in his hands. “Good. You’re still here,” he says, smile growing wider.
You blink at him several times, as if you’re not seeing him clearly.
“Can you come with me? I have something for you.” His voice is trembling slightly, excited.
You nod, still rendered speechless, wobbly as you follow him outside. When you’re alone in front of the establishment, the voices of those inside muffled and distant, you stare down at your shoes, anticipating what’s about to happen. He holds the box out to you, opening the cover slowly, revealing a personalized cake decorated beautifully with your name written in neat frosting on the top.
You meet his gaze, putting your hand to your mouth, hiding a gasp. “Nanami.”
“I made this for you. Because of what we talked about today.” He swallows hard, taking a step towards to you. “I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a while now. I…” He trails off, nervous, scared, uncertain. Just like you.
This time, you follow through with what you’ve been wanting to do since that rainy night not too long ago. You close the distance, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. Sparks fly and whatever buzz you have from the alcohol is replaced with this electricity. “Me too.”
Author's Note: A continuation of this. Yet another coworker!Nanami drabble inspired by a song that’s making me feel all sappy and soft. 🩶 Divider credit to @/cafekitsune.
#nanami kento#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento x you#nanami kento fluff#kento nanami x reader#kento nanami x you#kento nanami fluff#nanami x reader#nanami x you#nanami fluff#coworker!nanami#jjk fluff
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Kinktober Day 1: Stuck in a wall
Pairings: Rindou x reader
Warnings: Male!reader, top/dom!reader, spanking, dacryphilia, very slight dubcon (Rindou starts to enjoy it pretty quickly), slight fourth wall breaking
Genre/Format: Smut; Oneshot
Prompt List by: sakuyaserenitykira 🧡
Author's Notes: Listen, I'm not gonna figure out logic for how Rindou got stuck in the wall, so just imagine it's some Halloween magic 🤫
Please check my blog title to verify whether requests are closed or not! Thank you!
....How did he even get into this predicament? How does one end up literally sticking through a solid wall?
“Rin...what the fuck happened?” You asked, extremely confused at the sight before you. Your boyfriend was, well...inside of the wall. More like going through the wall actually. When you walked through the hallway, you were immediately greeted by his lower half hanging from the wall. Then when you poked it and it moved, you grew more concerned, walking around to the bathroom directly on the other side to find Rindou's upper half jutting out, looking up at you like a deer in headlights
“Help. Me. Now.” His body thrashed about, desperately attempting to free himself from the building, frustration evident on his features
“What do you expect me to do?! You're in the wall!” Truly the last thing you expected to see when you came home...
“I don't know! Just do something! ” Rindou slumped in exasperation. Muscles tired from trying to hold himself up and wriggle out of the hole
You carefully examined the area around his torso, it was weirdly...intact. The wall was smooth, almost seamless. Clearly, he didn't fall through, otherwise there would be some rubble or debris or something, some kind of evidence that the wall broke. But there was nothing. It genuinely looked like Rindou had phased halfway through the wall and stopped before he passed to the other side
“Rin, I think you need to face the facts...you're just decor now.” He feebly attempted to lunge at you, twisting his body and swatting his hands at whatever he could reach. You only chuckled at his pouty lips and misty eyes, though you felt kind of bad that he was upset. You figured he'd probably been here for a while, trying to free himself and getting angry at the failed attempts
Suddenly, you remembered something from the fanfics you like to read... You've seen this scenario before, where someone magically gets stuck in the wall or something like that, and they usually end up getting fucked hard in such a vulnerable position. And you'd be lying if you said that that thought didn't arouse you...maybe if you did that to Rindou, it would get him magically unstuck? Ok that's shoddy logic, but why not take advantage of the situation, since there weren't any obvious ways to pry him out?
Rindou eyed you suspiciously as you peeked around the door frame, walking back out into the hallway. He flinched when something touched his butt, groping at him and rubbing along his back. “Now's not the time, y/n.” He growled
In response, you gave his cheeks a firm smack, making Rindou yelp from the other side. “I said n-not now...”
“C'mon, it's not like it'll make this situation worse, right?” You reasoned, grabbing his hips and pressing against him. “If anything, this will ease some of your stress. Just let me help you, yeah?”
You heard him whine, wiggling around some. It almost seemed like he was rubbing his thighs together, maybe he did find this a little hot after all...
Your fingers found the front of his pants, slowly unbuttoning them and letting them slide down to his ankles. Rindou gasped when you brushed against his thighs, whining again as you began to touch him more, “Y/n... Stop...”
Smack. His body jerked at the sudden collision. Clamping a hand over his mouth to hopefully muffle any more noises, not wanting to sound pathetic in front of you. Nevermind the fact that you've brought out his pathetic, perverted side plenty of times already, turning him into a sobbing, drooling whore on many occasions...
“I'll be right back, I'm gonna grab something, ok?” With that, you ran to the bedroom to retrieve the bottle of lube that was stored in the dresser. Quickly returning and dripping a small amount onto Rindou's ass, the cool liquid causing him to squeak in surprise. You slowly spread it around his hole, making sure to get enough on your fingers before you worked them inside. He gasped when you finally plunged them in, stretching his pretty ass, scissoring your digits and sliding them in and out. Finding his prostate and making him keen when you pushed on it, gasps and moans escaping from his lips
Rindou clawed at the wall around him, feeling sweat build up all over, his body reacting to your ministrations somewhat against his will. He really just wanted to be unstuck asap, but your skilled fingers pumping in and out of his ass made his head feel all fuzzy... It felt too good, so maybe he'll let you do what you want, as long as he gets out eventually...
When his ass felt thoroughly stretched, you removed your fingers and lined your cock up with his hole, rubbing it against him a little. Rindou bit his lip when you teased him, feeling more eager to just have you inside, stuffing him full like he deserves
And you did just that, pushing your dick inside while he groaned, “Fuck...'s big...” It hurt a little bit when the head first stretched him further, but the pleasure took over shortly afterwards, drowning out any other thoughts and filling his head with pure bliss
You picked up the pace, thrusting into him more harshly, landing another slap on his ass, the skin turning pink and warm. More wanton moans fell from Rindou's mouth, punctuating your every thrust. His squishy insides squeezed your cock just right, milking out more precum to add to the wet mess already inside of him
“You're really getting into this now, huh? Such a pretty little slut for me.” Another painful slap against his cheek as you degraded him, rubbing the skin soothingly to ease the sting. Unseen by you, tears began to pool in the corners of Rindou's eyes, threatening to fall if you spanked him again. The humiliation of being stuck in this helpless state only turned him on more, unable to take control in any way, unable to move away, forced to just take whatever you were going to do to his body
“Ha-harder...please, harder... Aaahh—!! ” Rindou's eyes rolled to the back of his head as you pounded your hips into his rhythmically, slamming against the wall with each sharp thrust. Tears finally dropped onto the ground below him, staining his face as he became overwhelmed by pure pleasure
“Babe, I'm really close...want it inside?” You practically had a vice grip on Rindou's hips, digging into him and nearly breaking the skin
“Y-yes...fuck—!! Fill me...want you in me...” He breathed, sweat beading on his forehead. His own release not far behind
You angled your thrusts so that you were pounding against his prostate again, relentless pace now becoming sloppy as you shot your load deep inside of him, painting his insides with hot, white cum. Rindou screamed as he felt your seed flood his guts, shooting his own cum all over the wall that he was trapped in
Leaning against the wall, you took a deep breath, hearing Rindou's panting on the other side. Both of you were completely spent after your spontaneous fucking. Rindou whined when your dick slipped out of him, already missing you, wishing you could just stay buried inside of him all day
Cum dripped out of his hole and ran down his legs, so you scooped it up and pushed it back into him with your fingers, earning a high-pitched moan from your darling slut. You chuckled and rubbed his hips lovingly
“Wanna go again, Rin? ”
Reblogs are extremely appreciated <3
Tagging: @anxious-chick @steadybreadbluebird @6kabuki
#my writing#kinktober#kinktober 2023#tokyo rev smut#tokyo revengers smut#tokyo revengers#tokyo rev x reader#rindou haitani smut#rindou haitani#rindo x reader#male reader#dom reader#top reader#sub rindo#rindou x reader#oneshot
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Monkey Bars (sjy) - Teaser
PAIRING: jake sim x fem!reader
GENRES: smut, fluff, crack, college au, frat au, enemies to lovers, exes to lovers, maybe the slightest bit of angst?
TEASER WC: 0.35k once again i have no clue how long this is going to be but from what i feel rn it’s gonna be another long one and it’s also going alot slower than pink whitney rip ૮₍•᷄ ࡇ •᷅₎ა
SUMMARY: Jake Sim was like the epitome of the perfect fourth-grade boyfriend. He had it all – being a year older automatically put him on the cool list (which in turn also boosted your popularity), genuinely kind, and very cute. But then, the earth-shattering truth that he was a two-timing cheater hit you like a ton of bricks. You caught him red-handed, holding another girl's hand and it devastated you beyond measure. So of course, in your nine-year-old mind, there was only one deserving punishment – a forceful push off the monkey bars during recess, resulting in a broken arm.
And so, the battle lines were drawn. You and Jake became sworn enemies, a feud that carried on even into college. You saw him as a total fuckboy who always knew how to get under your skin, while he saw you as a snobby bitch who thought she was better than everyone else. But fate, in its twisted sense of humor, had other plans. Out of a class brimming with a hundred other possibilities, it was Jake who ended up being your assigned partner.
Clearly, the world had favorites and you weren’t on that list.
THE FRAT DIARIES MASTERLIST
As Waka Flocka's "No Hands" reverberated through the pulsating house, your body instinctively moved to the infectious rhythm, the alcohol adding to the blissful sway. Suddenly, a strong arm snaked around your shoulders, and the intoxicating scent of cologne filled your senses. Your body melded snugly with theirs before they leaned in, whispering into your ear.
"What's your name?" His voice jolted you, instantly recognizable and sobering. Slowly, you turned your head to face him.
Jake fucking Sim.
Out of all the people in the world, of course, it was him. The realization seemed to mirror his own sentiment, evident from the annoyance etched across his face. Disgusted, you pushed him away, eager to distance yourself from his unwanted proximity.
"Oh, fuck no. Fuck off," you shot him a withering look, brushing at your shoulders as if trying to wipe away any remnants of his presence.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" His question only served to reinforce your belief in his sheer stupidity. You rolled your eyes, mustering up the patience to respond.
"Really, Jake? Why do you think you dumbass?" The realization hit you that Epsilon Nu was the frat Jake belonged to, instantly eroding any remaining respect you might have had for the house.
"No way you got a bid from AES," he exclaimed incredulously, disbelief radiating from his eyes. "Only hot and cool girls go AES, and obviously, you're neither."
"You've clearly become even dumber since high school 'cause it seems like you've forgotten that I'm a triple legacy," you emphasized, feeling your blood pressure rise with every passing second of the encounter.
"Whatever, get away from me," he retorted, his face still contorted with disdain, prompting a scoff to escape your lips.
"You're the one who came over to me, you asshole." With that, the two of you abruptly turned away from each other, stomping off in opposite directions, each eager to put distance between yourselves. The excitement and joy that had previously filled bid day were now replaced by a sour mood.
Leave it to Jake to ruin everything.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: jake is so mean in this story but i love him sm like it’s so fun to write when both your main characters are assholes lmao it adds spice like this is already such a different vibe than pink whitney despite being in the same universe but i love it (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)
#jake sim#sim jaeyun#jake sim scenarios#jake scenarios#jake fluff#jake sim fluff#jake sim smut#jake smut#jake x reader#jake sim x reader#enhypen#enhypen scenarios#enhypen x reader#enhypen smut#enhypen fluff#college au#frat au#fic: monkey bars
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Campaign of Chaos
Pairing: Steddie x reader (Eddie Munson x reader x Steve Harrington)
Word Count: 1,741
Summary: Steve wants to learn to play D n D with you and Eddie and things take an unexpected turn.
Author’s Note: I don’t even know. I couldn’t get the idea of Steve being silly during a D n D session and Eddie just getting a kick out of it out of my head and then this idea popped in because why wouldn’t they use the dice to do something like this and have fun! haha! Enjoy and thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️ Divider by the lovely @wannabehamlet thank you sweets! 🥰 (and as always everyone is 18 or older in this fic)
Warnings: fun flirty fluff, silly D n D play, sorta strip D n D (but really just rolling the dice), cursing, cock warming, implied smut (18 + ONLY PLEASE!!!)
GIFS NOT MINE: Thank you to @cinemagal for the first, the second @taylorsmylover and the third @yelenabelova and the fourth @stevieschesthairs and the last @quinta-brunson thank you al so much! 🥰
Eddie Munson Masterlist
“Can I seduce the innkeeper?”
Eddie just stares at Steve and you slap your hand over your mouth to stop your cackle.
“If you weren’t so pretty I’d punch you in the face right now,” Eddie answers with a smile. “And no, you can’t seduce the innkeeper. You’re a level 1 Fighter, persuasion isn’t really your strong point.”
Steve gives Eddie his best charming smile and leans closer, raising his brows.
“I bet I could seduce you…then I could do whatever I want.” Steve croons, flicking one of Eddie’s curls.
“Are you challenging the Dungeon Master Steve?” you ask, eyes wide but full of mirth.
“Why not?” Steve shrugs as he sits back with a wink.
Eddie quickly recovers, slipping behind his master screen and adjusting some things.
“You wanna play big boy?” Eddie asks, pinning Steve with dark eyes before they drift to you.
“I’m here aren’t I?” Steve answers, still smirking.
“Then let’s play,” Eddie simpers, grabbing his dice.
An hour later….
“Nah uh, Harrington. Pins don’t count,” Eddie says with a tsk.
“Aw come on!” Steve whines, sitting in nothing but Eddie’s denim vest, his underwear and two socks.
You giggle from your seat, still wearing your hellfire shirt, panties and bra.
Steve raises his brown eyes to you, imploringly. “Talk some sense into him baby!”
“He’s in charge Steve,” you say, dragging your teeth over your bottom lip.
Eddie blows you a kiss and looks back to Steve. “Well, what’s it gonna be Harrington.”
Steve huffs and starts to mumble under his breath as he removes one sock and throws it at Eddie’s face.
Eddie catches it and hangs it over his chair with Steve’s other articles of clothing.
“Your turn sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs, eyeing you appreciatively.
You roll your dice right before Eddie does, waiting anxiously to see his roll.
“Son of a bitch,” he yells when he sees you have a higher roll.
You stand and do a little happy dance, shaking your butt Steve’s way.
Steve promptly lifts your shirt and slaps your ass, then massages the spot.
“You asked for it,” Steve says when you give him a look.
“So, what’s it gonna be Munson?” Steve says, waggling his brows.
Eddie’s still wearing all his original clothing except for his Reeboks. He pretends to think long and hard about what to remove next. He stands and toys with the buckle of his belt, his movements deliberate as he slowly drags it through the belt loops and drops it to the floor.
“Your turn Steve,” Eddie grins.
Steve swallows hard and blinks before he starts to search for his dice. He rolls and when he counts a sixteen he lets out a whoop. Eddie smiles and rolls his own dice, grinning deviously when he counts eighteen.
“No freakin’ way!” Steve huffs, standing up and whirling around.
He grabs at his hair and gives it a pull. “I had a sixteen! I thought that was like an amazing roll!?”
“Take something off while you whine Steve,” Eddie says, waiting with his arms crossed over his chest.
Steve stares him down, his eyes going soft and his lips pouting.
To Eddie’s credit he holds strong and doesn’t give in.
Steve scoffs and throws his hands up in submission.
“Fine,” he grumbles as he pulls off the vest.
“I like this look,” you whisper as your eyes wander down Steve’s almost naked body.
“Thanks baby,” Steve says sweetly before he returns his glare to Eddie.
“For someone who loves to be naked you’re sure complaining a lot,” Eddie teases.
“You’ve got it all wrong Munson. I’m fine with being naked I just can’t stand that I’m losing to you!”
Eddie throws his head back and laughs.
“I knew it!” Eddie sings. “Well, get over it because you’re almost out of clothes and I’m so close to winning.”
“Hey!” you shout. “What about me!?”
The two boys swing their heads in your direction, taking you in as you stand at the edge of the table, tapping your foot with your hands on your hips.
“Oh, don’t worry sweetheart…” Eddie hums. “You’re the prize.”
Both you and Steve narrow your eyes at Eddie.
“We never agreed to that!” Steve cries.
“Remember what our girl said,” Eddie reminds Steve as he holds a ringed finger up, “I’m in charge.”
Steve’s mouth opens and closes before he snaps it shut and sits with a plop.
“It’s your turn angel,” Eddie says.
You roll a two, immediately letting out a string of curses that’s followed by Eddie’s triumphant laughter. Eddie rolls an eleven and taps his fingers along the surface of the table, his eyes wandering over your body.
“Gimme your bra baby,” Eddie says, wiggling his fingers.
You reach back and unhook it, slipping it through the shirt before you drape it over his hand. He presses the soft material between his fingers before he lays it over his chair.
“You guys give up yet?” Eddie asks.
“NO WAY!” Steve answers. “Right baby?”
You look at Eddie through lowered lashes and give a little wiggle, making your breasts bounce.
“Never,” you whisper.
Eddie licks his lips, holding your gaze.
When he finally pulls his eyes away he motions for Steve to roll.
Steve rolls a fourteen.
He doesn’t react, knowing full well he could still lose.
Eddie takes his die and shakes it several times before he dramatically lets it bounce across the table.
A fifteen.
“OH, COME ON!” Steve groans and before Eddie can even say anything he pulls off his last sock and flings it Eddie’s way.
“Only one thing left Harrington,” Eddie beams.
Steve let’s out an exasperated exhale, his bangs floating up with the force of it.
You take your dice and roll it across the table. A seven.
You hold your breath while Eddie rolls. A seven.
“Now what do we do?” you ask him.
“You should both take something off!” Steve says, even though no one asked him.
“Fine by me,” Eddie says as he starts to undo his watch.
Steve starts to protest but Eddie gives him a warning glare.
“It’s a separate piece of clothing Steve,” Eddie explains with sass.
You still haven’t removed anything, knowing your next choice is a big one and once Eddie and Steve stop arguing they look over at you expectantly.
You decide on your panties, delicately lifting your shirt and hooking your thumbs into the lace at your hips and slowly dragging it down your legs.
Eddie’s fingers curl as he waits for you to give them to him.
“Why can’t I have them?” Steve pouts.
“You might get them later,” Eddie croons as he lifts the lace to his face.
He inhales with an appreciative hum and thumbs over the wetness on the fabric.
“Fuck,” Steve hisses when he sees it. “Why are we still playing?”
“Because I’m about to kick your ass Harrington,” Eddie sings. “Let’s finish this.”
Eddie adjusts himself in his jeans as he shifts on his chair and spreads his legs wider.
“Show us whatcha got Steve,” Eddie murmurs.
Steve makes every effort to vigorously shake up his die, his eyebrows drawn in with concentration and his jaw set with determination.
He rolls a twelve.
“Hmm,” Eddie hums, “could go either way.”
Eddie rolls his die, the face of it coming to rest on a nine.
Steve jumps out of his chair with such force he shakes everything on the gaming table.
You and Eddie exchange a lopsided smile.
“STILL ALIVE!” Steve cheers. “TAKE IT OFF MUNSON!”
Eddie stands and pulls off one sock with a smirk.
Steve opens his hand and wiggles his fingers. “Gimme!”
Eddie flicks it his way and Steve grabs it out of the air.
“This better not smell Munson.”
“Never,” Eddie says, a hand pressed to his chest, looking appalled.
You can’t hold back your laughter. “Oh my god, you two are ridiculous.”
As if mirroring each other, their playful eyes turn to you, slowly growing darker the longer they stare.
“Your turn baby,” Steve says.
He turns to Eddie. “I hope you win this round.”
They high five each other and you make your grumbles loud and clear before skipping your die across the table.
“I rolled a seventeen!” you shout happily. “BEAT THAT BABY!”
“Phew,” Eddie whistles. “It’s gonna be hard.”
He takes his die and brings it to Steve’s lips. “Gimme some luck Steve.”
Steve blows on the die and leans forward as Eddie let’s out an exhale and rolls.
Everyone is silent as they stare at the die, now motionless on the table.
“IS THAT A TWENTY!?” Steve whispers. “Isn’t that like legendary?”
Eddie’s head moves up and down to answer yes but he can’t form any words yet.
“Holy shit,” Eddie finally whispers.
“You really are the Dungeon Master,” Steve says with awe, his eyes drifting to you as you stand and wait.
Eddie’s eyes slowly lift from the die to you, your hellfire shirt bunched between your fingers in anticipation. Without another word he walks around the table and stops just in front of you, pulling your hands free of the shirt.
He grabs the hem and starts to pull it up, his fingers brushing along your curves and making you shiver. You can hear Steve’s breath catch as more of your bare skin is exposed and when you’re free of the material Eddie’s eyes drop lower, his tongue darting out to trace his lips.
“Jesus Christ,” he murmurs, letting the shirt fall to the floor as his knuckles ghost over your naked skin, his rings catching and leaving goosebumps in their wake.
He backs away, his eyes never leaving your body, and sits again on his chair. Steve can’t take his eyes off you, even as he says to Eddie, “what now Dungeon Master?”
Eddie starts to unbutton his jeans, dragging the zipper down until he can push them off his hips and to his ankles, his boxers doing little to hide his obvious arousal.
“Come on sweetheart, take a seat,” Eddie croons as he pats his thigh. “You’re going to keep me warm until we finish the first part of this campaign.”
Your lips part in a gasp and Steve let’s out a frustrated groan.
“You can’t be serious Eddie…I can’t sit here like this…” Steve whines.
Eddie throws Steve his best winning smile. “Aw come on Harrington, I thought you wanted to try and seduce the inn keeper.”
@ysmmsy @nerdypinupcrystal @dreamlessinparis @goldylions @buckysdollforlife @blackwidownat2814 @hiddles-rose
#steddie x reader#eddie munson x reader#steve harrington x reader#steddie x you#eddie munson#steve harrington#steddie fanfiction#joseph quinn#joe keery
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Finish
Fic Title: Finish
Author Name: voldemorts-tap-shoes/smjl
Selected Trope: Weasley Weddings
Brief Summary: Ron and Hermione find time on the horcrux hunt to finish what they started at Bill and Fleur’s wedding.
Word Count: 1859
Rating: T
Any Trigger Warnings: none
***
It feels like she has packed and repacked this bag a hundred times since the start of the summer. Even with magically infinite space to bring whatever they need, Hermione has second and third and fourth guessed this book and that potion and everything in between. Sometimes she worries that the beaded bag and its contents are all she’s contributing on this mission, and she wants to get it right.
As she reaches in again, her fingers snatch onto floaty fabric that she recognizes by touch alone and after a moment’s hesitation, Hermione pulls out her dress from Bill and Fleur’s wedding, letting the chiffon unfurl toward the dark and dingy floorboards. What a perfect day that might have been if not for—well, everything. Spending the reception dancing with Ron was a bright spot in an otherwise mostly dreary day, from the Minister’s visit that morning to the uninvited guests that crashed the post-wedding party. But even that…
She thought she knew how Ron felt about her, thought that they were making strides toward something more than friendship. But even though he had snagged her away from Viktor to dance, showcasing a jealousy that reminded her of fourth year and the only other time he had seen her so dressed up, there had been nothing more. He hadn’t kissed her, he hadn’t told her how he felt. Of course, she hadn’t done those things either. There’s a war coming—it’s here, really—and what the hell are they waiting for?
Hermione tosses the dress over the back of the sofa and reaches back in for Ron’s dress robes. She’s not sure why they’re still in the bag anyway, why she hasn’t hung them up in a closet somewhere under a preservation charm to keep the dust off. Of all the things that they might or might not need hunting horcruxes, she thinks it’s fairly safe to assume that her dress and his dress robes are a do not need. But they’re also the only things they have with them that remind her of a happier time. Everything else in the bag is so…tactical.
“Hey.” Ron’s voice jolts her out of her thoughts, and he raises a quizzical eyebrow at her as he enters the room. “What are you doing?”
“Packing. Unpacking. I don’t know.” She motions to the pile of clothing draped over the sofa she’s been sleeping on every night, her fingers entwined with Ron’s. That means something, doesn’t it? “I don’t suppose we have any need for these anymore.”
“Probably not.” Ron trails his fingers down the sleeve of his robes. “It’s a shame that we didn’t really get to finish the wedding.”
Hermione shrugs. “It was a lovely ceremony. Fleur looked beautiful, and at least we made it past the cake and everything before the Death Eaters showed up.”
“Oh, er…I meant us,” Ron says, and Hermione’s breath catches in her throat. “We didn’t really get to finish the wedding.”
What is he saying? Did he have plans for them that evening? Was that going to be the night, before everything fell to pieces and they were running for their lives?
He smiles at her, that lopsided grin that’s been melting her heart since she was fourteen, and suggests with a laugh, “We could always get dressed up again, and have our own little celebration here.”
Hermione chuckles too. As much as she would love to do that—to know what exactly they didn’t finish the night of his brother’s wedding—they have more important things to focus on. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Oh. Yeah, alright.”
“I just meant with the mission—”
“No, no, you’re right.” Ron gives her a tight-lipped smile. “I’m gonna go see what I can round up for dinner.”
He leaves her alone in the drawing room without another word, and Hermione sighs, wondering how she always manages to say the wrong thing to him.
She gathers up the clothing, but rather than put the pieces in a closet, she folds them carefully and places them back into her beaded bag.
Maybe one day we can finish what we started.
***
Ron’s feet are heavy as he trades places with Harry, who’s about to finish out the night watch. The winter air outside is nothing compared to the frostiness inside the tent. Not that he’s surprised. Not that he doesn’t deserve it. But he and Hermione are both as stubborn as they come, and her resolve is stronger than his.
She’s barely said five words to him since he returned to the hunt, so the sight that greets him behind the tent flap hits him harder than a stunning spell: Hermione, wearing that tantalizing lilac dress from Bill and Fleur’s wedding.
Obviously, she’s gone completely round the twist.
Ron takes a step forward into what he now realizes is a suffocating heating charm on the tent, mimicking that same stuffy August evening. Before he can raise any questions, Hermione thrusts a bundle of fabric into his arms. “Put these on,” she instructs, her tone clipped as her lips set into a thin line.
“My dress robes?” Ron asks as he examines them. “Hermione, are you feeling alright?”
“Peachy,” she snaps, the only response he’s apparently going to get. After a loaded moment without further instructions, Ron takes a step toward the loo.
“Uh…okay. Be right back.”
Hermione’s request makes absolutely no sense, but he’s not really in a position right now to deny anything she asks of him. If putting on his dress robes will get her to talk to him, it seems a very minor sacrifice to make.
He puts the robes on as quickly as he can and then heads back out to the main area of the tent, where Hermione is waiting. They’re a pale echo now of themselves from that night—clothes hanging loose from months without proper nutrition, both a bit scraggly and in need of a haircut, and a shave in Ron’s case—but she’s still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Her expression is one of grim determination, but her brown eyes are wide and bright as she looks up at him.
“You said we never got to finish the wedding,” Hermione says softly.
“You want to now?” Ron asks incredulously, shock winning the battle against common sense. He had suggested this, only sort of joking, back at Grimmauld Place and she had shut him down. The conditions now are even less ideal, and he’s flabbergasted that she’s bringing it up.
“I need to know if I’m crazy,” she answers, and though Ron has some thoughts on that at the moment, he wisely keeps them to himself, “or imagining things. I need to know what we didn’t finish that night.”
“Hermione—” She holds a hand up, silencing him instantly.
“Show me.”
Stubbornness grips them both again as they stand frozen, eyeing each other across the room, neither willing to look away. She doesn’t know what she’s asking. She doesn’t know that he had every intent of pulling her out to the back garden to tell her how he felt, to maybe finally steal a kiss, but a combination of having fun dancing and debilitating nerves at the idea of taking that step had kept him putting it off for one more song. One more glass of champagne. Until there was no more music and no more champagne, only fear and chaos, and their focus had been forcibly shifted to other things.
She doesn’t know any of that, so what does Hermione think they’re finishing?
Sod it. She’s the brightest witch of their age. Maybe she does know.
Ron crosses the room to the wireless and gives it a couple of taps with his wand until it’s playing the soft, slow song that had been the last one they heard at the wedding. He turns back to Hermione, who holds her hand out in invitation. “Come and dance?” she whispers his own words back at him, her voice shaky as her eyes glisten with unshed tears.
He takes her hand and wraps his other arm around her waist, pulling her in close, and Hermione’s head settles against his chest as they barely sway to the music. Even before he left, they haven’t been this close since the wedding, and Ron never wants to let go again.
“Do you really want to finish this the way I wanted to at the wedding?” Ron asks softly as the song ends and then starts over. “You’re hardly even speaking to me, let alone—” He cuts himself off with a sigh. Despite Hermione being the one to initiate this, kissing her feels like a boundary he shouldn’t cross.
Hermione pulls away to look up at him, but holds onto his hand. “When you left, it made me question everything I thought I knew about you. About—us.” She takes a deep breath before continuing. “So yes, I want to know. I need to know. Unless—”
She stops, and Ron braces for her rejection. Maybe he should’ve just kissed her and not second-guessed himself. Hermione bites her lip anxiously and drops his hand, and his fingers dangle uselessly between them, still half-reaching for her. “Unless what you want has changed since the wedding because in that case there’s no point in pretending that—”
Whatever else she’d intended to say gets swallowed up by Ron’s lips. What he wants hasn’t changed at all, only gotten stronger, and he doesn’t want to wait any longer to show her.
Hermione melts against him, her hands finding their way into his hair, and kissing her feels like coming home. Every brush of her lips against his is a taste of forgiveness, and he drinks it in like he’s dying of thirst.
He doesn’t stop kissing her until he tastes salt, and he pulls away to find tears streaming down Hermione’s cheeks. She leaves her hands tangled in his hair to keep him close, though, and presses her forehead to his to whisper in anguish, “Why did you leave, then? If that’s what you wanted, Ron, why did you leave?”
Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. He never expected it to be. Ron sighs. “That’s a story for a different night, I think,” he replies, and at that Hermione does let him go with a hollow laugh.
“Of course you’re not going to tell me,” she scoffs. “Why would this change a damn thing between us?”
Ron reaches for her again, tugging at the chiffon that hugged her body like a glove four months ago but is now loose enough for him to grab an entire handful. “I just meant—not this night.” He motions to their outfits, to the purple dress and the navy robes that aren’t yet tainted with thoughts of the locket. “Let’s get changed, and I’ll tell you everything.”
Hermione trails her fingers down his lapel as she looks up at him. “Promise?”
“Yeah,” he agrees easily. All he’s wanted to do since he got back is tell her the truth; he’s just been waiting for her to want to hear it. “I promise.”
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Okay I realize absolutely no one asked for this but here are some of the changes I would make to Fourth Wing:
*Spoilers below and warning, this is gonna be a very long post with more or less coherent rambling*
To start with, Violet's mother's motivations for suddenly demanding Violet become a Rider 6 months prior to Conscription never made sense to me and that's something I'd definitely want to flesh out more. She fell in love with and married a Scribe, and was apparently fine with Violet training to become a Scribe up until then-- so what the hell changed, made her suddenly decide to throw her youngest daughter into a death college where she'll start off at a major disadvantage? I think it makes more sense if her decision coincided with the death of Violet's father or something. The pain of losing him, of wanting to avoid all reminders of him, led her to demand Violet become a Rider rather than a Scribe. It's also stated in the book that in the last few months of his life, Violet's father became more withdrawn and was likely looking into venin/wyvern-- she could've forbidden Violet from becoming a Scribe in order to get her away from all that and the possibility of discovering the truth (although granted, sending her away to the same College the Rebellion Kids-- who are very much aware of the truth-- are forced to attend may not be the best way of going about it).
For that matter, I'd stop giving Violet so many opportunities to leave. I know it's supposed to show off her determination or whatever, but it makes her motivations and characterization super inconsistent if she's constantly going on about how her dream in life is to become a scribe and she turns down literally every opportunity for her to go and do that. It's also a more compelling story for me if she literally had no choice but to become a Rider but managed to succeed anyway-- and it mirrors the rebellion kids' story as well.
The hair. There's no logical reason for Violet to have natural balayage, the fuck. It's stated in the book that even if she was to cut her hair, it would just turn silver again at the ends after it reaches a certain length, which...?? And there's zero explanation for this. Like, if you're gonna give the MC special hair, at least provide a good story behind it. For example: after Brennan's death 6 years ago, Violet shut down completely. She couldn't stand being around her mother's rage and her father's devastating grief and Mira's absence, so she just picked a direction and...kept going. It took them 3 days to find her and by that time, she was half-frozen and on the verge of death. Borrowing a trope from Chinese dramas, by the time they found her, her hair had turned completely white from stress. Her brown hair grew back in as she recovered but she keeps the white as a reminder to herself to never let herself get to that point again-- to never let herself shut down the same way again.
(To emphasize-- if she cuts it, it doesn't magically turn white again after growing out, that was just a one-time thing. She's not magically gifted with special hair "just because", that's stupid).
Violet's potential as a Scribe. The book continuously emphasizes how smart Violet is supposed to be, how she would've made the Perfect Scribe, and other than her tendency to conveniently regurgitate facts the author wants us to know about the world, we...don't really see much evidence of that. If anything, the book makes the argument that oh actually, deep down inside Violet had always been more suited to be a Rider rather than a Scribe, yadda yadda yadda. Which is just boring to me-- the most interesting thing about her character is the fact that she was never supposed to be a Rider, was never suited for it, and having her turn out to actually have "the soul of a Rider" all along or some bullshit takes away from that. I would much rather have her start off the book with a scribe's skill and mindset and gradually add the traits of a Rider as well for a merging of the two, rather than have her 'outgrow' being a Scribe.
Continuing on that theme, Violet is clearly a very emotion-driven character, which doesn't quite make sense to me given that she was trained to be the Quintessential Scribe. Scribes, after all, are taught to be logical, rational, to always control/hide their emotions: to fundamentally be a "blank slate", without biases or preconceptions, solely dedicated to the preservation of knowledge (emotions only get in the way of that). If anything, it'd make more sense to me if Violet was a little too good at hiding and compartmentalizing her emotions (especially after the deaths of her father and brother), to the point that she was nearly impossible to read and came across as a bit eerie to her peers. This is not to say that she wouldn't feel as strongly or have that same capacity for kindness-- just that she'd become very good at using intellectualization as a defense mechanism ("I'm not helping them because I care, it's because I'm already at a disadvantage and need all the allies I get. It's only logical." "It's only natural to feel a bit anxious watching them fight...they're giving me lessons and it'd be inconvenient if they died. I'd have to find another person to fill their place, which would be...well, it'd be better if they lived. I'm going to make sure they live.")
(The "woman is the openly emotional one and the man is the openly logical one" is also one of the tropes that annoys me the most, so...goodbye to that).
You also cannot convince me this girl was well-socialized growing up, which would cause her to value her relationship with Dain that much more. If he was her only friend growing up, the only person she was close to outside her family, it provides a huge opportunity for character growth as she struggles to learn how to trust, open up to, and rely on other people. It bothered me a little how in the book, several characters (Ridoc, Sawyer) were just suddenly on Violet's side without any actual scenes between them showing how they became friends.
(Ridoc is the first person to make Violet Sorrengail laugh at Basgiath. It wasn't even anything special, just a sarcastic-- but uncannily accurate-- impression of Professor Devera, and he glanced at her just in time to see her hastily turn away, covering her face. Her shaking shoulders gave her away, however.
Hah, he thought, smug satisfaction curling in his chest. So you can laugh. I knew you had a sense of humor hidden away somewhere deep down.
Deep, deep down.
The next second, Violet had managed to compose herself, face as blank and unreadable as ever, save for perhaps the slightly narrowed gaze she aimed at his direction, as if willing him to forget her momentary lapse in Not Being a Robot. He just winked at her, grin widening for the briefest moment before turning back to Sawyer.
Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me.)
Also why is this girl starting her training off making enemies left and right? First off, instead of futilely trying to avoid every rebellion kid out there, it'd be more practical for her to just try and distance herself from her mother as much as possible. That relationship is definitely doing her no favors. And with Xaden/the other rebellion kids-- she, of all people, knows what it's like to be judged for who her parents are. She knows they know what it's like too. It's an angle that she can use to at least try to keep a hundred targets off her back.
("You're Lilith Sorrengail's daughter," Xaden said, studying her through narrowed eyes. It was impossible to pinpoint the emotion in his voice-- but well, she could take a solid guess.
"Yes," Violet replied, just as evenly. "And you're Fen Riorson's son, if we're doing introductions based on our parents now." She gave him a polite nod. "Best of luck on the Parapet today, although from what I've heard about your skills, I don't imagine you'll need it."
When in doubt, there was never any harm in falling back on manners and flattery. That was what Dain had told her, and she tended to trust his advice when it came to dealing with people. He'd always been more likeable than her.
His jaw tightened.
"Your mother killed my father," he said, expression cracking open the slightest bit to reveal something raw and wounded underneath.
And your father killed my brother, she didn't say. It was something they both knew, after all, and she didn't see the point in reciting facts back and forth for no reason.
Violet resisted the urge to sigh. So much for manners and flattery-- it looked like she was going to have to address this now. Directness it was then.
"Yes," she admitted, voice going even more flat. "And I understand you have every reason to hate me for what my mother did. But if you're going to try and kill me, at least have it be for something that I did." She started walking forward-- either he was going to kill her, or he wasn't. Either way, there wasn't much she could do about it. "Everything in my life has been influenced by who my mother is. At the very least, do me the courtesy of allowing my death to occur independently of her."
A pause. She'd caught him off guard.
"So just to be clear, you're not asking me to spare you. Just for some agency in your own death," he said finally. Was that a trace of humor in his voice?
"What I'm asking is for you to stop seeing my mother when you look at me," Violet said, causing Xaden's face to go blank again. "But that's easier said than done. I'm sure you would know, wouldn't you?")
For that matter, I'm also putting Violet on the aro/ace spectrum here (probably demisexual). Not out of any plot-related reason. Just because it was incredibly annoying reading all those descriptions of how inhumanly beautiful Xaden was every 3 pages. 'Lust at first sight' is also one of my least favorite tropes, so. Goodbye to that. (Side note though, I think it would be really funny for Violet 'never-felt-sexual-attraction-to-any-significant-degree' Sorrengail to go find Xaden while their dragons are fucking, completely freaked out about what the fuck is happening, while Xaden (after registering that she genuinely has no idea that the emotion she's feeling is Dragon-Induced Horniness, she legit thinks their dragons might be dying) has a mini panic attack thinking 'fuck am I really going to have to give the dragon sex talk to the girl I'm Definitely Not Crushing On'
One of the things that frustrated me the most about the book was how convinced Violet was that Xaden was out to kill her, despite all of his actions showing he was very much not going to kill her. This from a girl whose defining trait is supposed to be her intelligence. Now I'm all for characters being very smart in one way and dumb in another. But the essence of intelligence is the ability to gather facts and put them together to form a logical conclusion. To have multiple occurrences of Xaden helping her out/saving her life/turning down the perfect opportunity to kill her, and still reaching the conclusion that he wants her dead is...not intelligent.
("What are you doing?" Dain hissed. "I told you to keep your head down and to do everything you could to avoid Riorson's notice!"
That was rather unfair of him, Violet thought to herself. She was keeping her head down, she was trying her best to avoid him, Xaden Riorson just seemed to be annoyingly adept at seeking her out. She couldn't understand why he kept doing so. Surely he wasn't still trying to make sure she wasn't going to spill his secrets?
She felt rather offended at that. Did Xaden really think that lowly of her intelligence? If she reported him, he'd find a way to kill her, simple as that, and she rather enjoyed living. Reporting him would be against her self-interest. At the very least, if he couldn't trust in her word, he should be able to trust in her self-preservation.
She ignored the tiny voice in her head saying that if she was to report him, Xaden Riorson and the other rebellion kids would be dead before they could so much as register the word 'betrayal', much less be in any state to exact vengeance against her.
"If it helps, I really don't think he's going to try and kill me," Violet said honestly. Not as long as she didn't give him a reason to.
"Oh? And why's that?" Dain asked sarcastically. She'd never seen him so discomfited. It was rather...sweet, actually.
"Because it wouldn't suit his interests," Violet stated. "He wouldn't gain anything from killing me, but he does stand to lose a whole lot. It's true that killing me wouldn't be against the Codex-- he wouldn't be formally punished-- but targeting me for nothing else but the crime of being General Sorrengail's daughter...well, it lets everyone know where his loyalties lie, doesn't it? It sends a clear signal to all the higher ups that he hasn't forgiven his father's execution, and he's already on thin enough ice as it is. It would be impractical for him to kill me, and Xaden Riorson may be a lot of things, but he's never struck me as stupid."
Dain stared at her for a while.
"What?" Violet blinked, feeling slightly uncomfortable. He was the one who'd told her that it was rude to stare too long, so why was he doing it now?
"Nothing," he chuckled, shaking his head. "You're just something special, Violet."
"'Special' isn't always a compliment," she said, narrowing her eyes slightly at him. He'd taught her that as well.
"It is when it comes to you," he said, smiling. "Now come on, you have class soon."
"I'll be there in a moment. I just need to head back to my room to grab something." The moment she turned the corner, she paused as she heard footsteps appear at her back.
"Xaden," she greeted, without turning around. "You were listening." It wasn't a question.
"You don't seem surprised," he commented, easily stepping in place next to her as if he'd always been there.
"I've come to the conclusion it's easier to just assume you're there anytime there are shadows present," Violet responded, voice a touch dry.
"It's flattering to know you think I'm so omnipresent," Xaden replied, a touch of smugness in his voice. "You gave a very convincing argument to Aetos about all the reasons why I shouldn't kill you. You had a lot of faith in my...practicality." He seemed amused, although his expression didn't change. "Has it ever occurred to you that not everyone is as rational about these things as you are?"
"Of course. That's why I figure it never hurts to provide a reminder that it costs you more to kill me than to keep me around." Violet glanced down at her planner. "I figure I'll schedule the next one in another two weeks or so."
"No need. You remind me every day." He grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to a halt. "Kairi Stevenson. You helped her before her match yesterday. Why?"
Violet looked down at his hand pointedly. He ignored her. "If you're asking how I learn about the match lineups beforehand, I'm not going to--"
"I don't care about that," Xaden interrupted. "You helped her, even though her father--"
"Even though her father participated in the rebellion, yes," Violet finished. "I've asked you-- all of you-- to judge me on my own merits, rather than my parentage. It would be rather hypocritical of me to not do the same for you."
His grip on her shoulder tightened.
"There's a difference between that and going out of your way to help us," he said, voice low.
"Is there? All I've done is treat her the same way I did the rest of my squad," Violet replied. "She's part of my squad, so I helped her. End of story."
It had been the first thing she'd done since arriving, work on establishing herself as an asset to her squad, rather than a liability. She'd known from the beginning that she would need to build allies in order to survive, given her physical limitations, and her squad, the only people bound by Codex to not kill her, seemed like a good place to start. It started with secret notes passed around in Battle Brief containing hastily scrawled answers. It continued with tutoring sessions and, after discovering Brennan's gift, hushed whispers regarding the next week's sparring lineup. Anything to establish herself as someone who was worth more alive than dead.
She'd spent her entire life under the disapproving eyes of her mother attempting to justify her existence, that she had a right to exist. This was no different.
Xaden's mouth curved up in a sardonic smile.
"So what, are you saying you helped her out of the goodness of your heart? How very...altruistic of you."
"Hardly," Violet said dismissively. Xaden blinked, sneer fading. "It's a mutually beneficial arrangement. She's been offering me help on improving my accuracy with my daggers, did you know? Like Sawyer helping me with weight training and Rhiannon with sparring. It's not like I don't get anything out of it."
"And Anderson?" Xaden questioned. "He's not even in our wing; yet I hear you helped bind his ankle after he twisted it last week. What benefit did you get out of helping him?" The corner of his lips twitched. "Or is he helping you with weight training too?"
"Well," Violet hesitated, unexpectedly flustered. Eli Anderson was a scrawny, hopelessly awkward boy who was quite possibly the clumsiest person she'd ever met. How he made it across the Parapet without tripping over the edge was beyond her. "It's always good to have allies outside of your own wing. It just means one less potential knife in the back some day."
Xaden hummed, studying her for a moment. "I'd worry about yourself first, Violet, before spending your time nursing other students back to health. Someone like Anderson won't make it in the long run anyway. It's better that someone take him out now before he gets someone else killed on the battlefield in the future."
Violet's eyes flashed, lips twisting into a scowl despite herself. Xaden's gaze sharpened and he leaned in, something almost hungry in his eyes. "Something the matter, Sorrengail?"
"I'm fine. I disagree with your argument, that's all," she said stiffly. "How do you know that Eli won't one day become an amazing dragon rider with the proper training? All this focus on 'weeding out the weak' and 'killing off the weaklings' with absolutely no emphasis on actually helping people become strong-- how does that make sense? We live in a world where the war is getting more dangerous by the day, where more people are dying by the day, and what are we doing here? Learning how to kill each other off," she scoffed. "What's the point in waging a war to keep our home safe, and then turning around and tearing ourselves apart inside it? The biggest threat here at Basgiath isn't the gryphons or Pomoriel-- it's each other. How sad is that?"
"All day, every day, encouraged to attack each other, to kill each other. I understand that killing is a necessity on the battlefield, but here?" she continued, tone scathing. "That's not training. That's not learning. That's just...that's just senseless cruelty and it serves no purpose. All you end up with then are people who won't think twice about stabbing a comrade in the back if it serves their own self-interest. It's meaningless, it's illogical, and it's...it's stupid."
Violet said the last word with a particular viciousness, as if it was the most scathing indictment she could imagine. Despite himself, Xaden found himself fighting a grin.
"It's better to get used to killing here, where you're in a relatively controlled environment, than it is on the battlefield," Xaden murmured. Violet shot him an unimpressed look and he had to press his lips together to keep the corners from twitching upwards.
"Are you volunteering yourself as a subject?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.
"As entertaining as it would be to see you try to murder me, I'll have to decline," Xaden replied, flicking her on the forehead just to see her scowl deepen. He coughed to hide a laugh as she reached up to swat his hand away. "Try not to die coddling some random stranger, Sorrengail. It would be a horribly anticlimatic end to your life."
"I'll try not to disappoint," Violet said, voice dry as the desert. She'd never coddled anyone in her life; at most it could be said she lent the occasional helping hand. And as she'd already established earlier, that was hardly altruistic in nature. The nature of things as they were was hardly conducive to her continued survival-- the current system was designed to swallow people like her whole. Obviously then, she needed to act differently from the established social order.
A favor given meant a favor received. Helping someone else now meant potentially being helped in the future.
That wasn't kindness. That was just common sense.
(Rhiannon, at some point in the future, after seeing Xaden and Violet interact:
"Oh my god," she said, mouth dropping open. "I thought he hated you because of your mother and that's why he wouldn't leave you alone, but...holy shit, he's just been pulling your pigtails this entire time, hasn't he?"
"I don't have pigtails," Violet frowned, even as Riorson shot her a warning glare. Rhiannon had to admit it was a fairly menacing one.
"Fine, tugging on your braid, whatever," Rhiannon waved her off, fighting a grin. Since discovering he was likely crushing on her best friend, the Wingleader suddenly seemed much less intimidating. "The point is, he li--"
"Matthias, I can and will give you double chore duty for attempting to spread untoward rumors about your Wingleader," Riorson growled.
He didn't say inaccurate, Rhiannon couldn't help but notice.
Violet tugged at Riorson's sleeve, brow furrowing slightly. Riorson's expression instantly softened a fraction and Rhiannon had to suppress a snort.
"What was that about?" Violet asked.
"Nothing you need to worry about," he replied. "Let's get back to practice, shall we?")
This post is getting wayyyy too long so I'll stop but one last point: not gonna lie, I was pretty disappointed by Violet's signet power in the book. It seemed to signify that deep down, she was the quintessential rider all along-- it's not a power that honors her intelligence or scribe background at all. Not to mention the whole her wielding lightning seemed to be a pretty deliberate counterpoint to Xaden wielding shadows, like come on, you couldn't come up with a less obvious metaphor to state they represent light and shadow? If I were to give her a power, it'd be something like probability manipulation or hyperintuition-- both abilities that compliment and highlight her intelligence.
#violet really said kindness is common sense and cruelty is stupid and no she will not be hearing any arguments#fourth wing
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For love to replace your shame
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Characters: Morgan/Reid, the BAU
Summary: The BAU are dealing with an UnSub who breaks into people’s homes and ties them up to tickle them without their consent. Reid, who knows a surprising amount of information about tickle kinks, is used as bait. Things go wrong, because of course they do.
A/N: Okay so! @ticklishraspberries was entirely right all this time and Criminal Minds is an amazing show, who would’ve thought! This one deals with a creep and some noncon tickling, but I hope I managed to make the discussion nuanced enough to show it’s not all black and white. We get some Moreid at the end, although Morgan is obviously pining for way longer. Not sure of my title, but I have nothing better. Enjoy!
Warnings: Ungraphic noncon tickling, tickle kinks, some ongoing trauma
Words: 12k
(Read on ao3)
The whole case screamed kidnapping attempts, but the BAU swiftly realized there was never supposed to actually be any kidnapping involved after they found the third victim tied up in their bed, seemingly unhurt, but scared. She claimed she’d been left there the entire night, the UnSub having broken into her home and spent approximately one hour with her before leaving. The only reason she was found was due to her not having shown up for work in the morning, which was so unlike her that her colleagues immediately contacted the authorities. The BAU arrived on scene after a short car ride only due to him not being the first one to be found like this.
“Not that I want him to murder people,” the chief had said. “But this behavior is strange enough that it makes me nervous.”
And nervous was exactly what the victims described the masked perpetrator to be, claiming they had paced the room after the initial ambush and made the victims watch them from the bed, all of them terrified, all of them unaware that they would eventually just leave the room and never return.
It was only once the fourth victim was found that any type of motive seemed to have been involved.
“He… tickled him?” Morgan rubbed at his temples. “For an hour?”
“Not entirely,” Gideon replied. “The victim said he’d first spent about twenty or so minutes hyping himself up to do it. Said it was intense, but seemingly brief once he started. As if the UnSub got one short burst of courage before he fled the scene. We’re dealing with someone who might want to try out their fantasies on people, but is afraid to.”
“Well, maybe he’s afraid now,” Prentiss said. “Who knows what could happen if he keeps doing this and getting away?”
“He’ll get bolder,” Hotch agreed. “And maybe he eventually won’t end up leaving at all.”
“That’s messed up.” Morgan glanced at Reid. “You’re not gonna share a bunch of facts about tickling with us, pretty boy?”
Reid looked up as if startled. “Right.” He cleared his throat. “T-tickle torture had been around for centuries. It was used in ancient Japan as a form of punishment when the need arose for a punishment to be administered without leaving any visible marks. There is also a consensual form of tickling which is vastly used among fetish communities, usually involving bondage of some sort. Although in recent years more evidence has surfaced that there isn’t always a sexual nature to it and some people might just simply-” He shrugged. “-enjoy it.”
“Why exactly do you know all that?” Morgan asked, shaking his head. “We think this guy is too scared to seek out like-minded people or something?”
“Possibly,” Reid said. “Some people will find this fascination, whatever form it may come in, to be embarrassing and alienating. Many find these urges overwhelming.”
“And eventually they allow them to seize control.” Gideon switched to an image of the four-poster bed of their latest victim. “He ties them up with rope, which takes longer, but I suspect using handcuffs without retrieving them once he leaves doesn’t make sense. Ties both the hands and feet, although not tight enough to really hurt them.”
“That could point to hesitation,” Hotch said.
Gideon nodded. “Or he enjoys seeing them squirm.”
Reid took a nearly - nearly - inaudible breath before he said, “Some people want their, uh, ticklees to be entirely immobile, while others want to be able to see them struggle.”
Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Ticklees?”
“The person receiving the tickling,” Reid said. “As opposed to a tickler.”
“There are terms?”
Reid met Morgan’s eye only briefly before saying, “There are terms for most things, yes. We’re talking about a whole community here. He’s painting a predatory picture, but for the most part these types of communities mostly want to be left to themselves, especially the types that revolve around aspects of humanity which are slightly more frowned upon. You know, same sex relationships, neurodivergence such as autism, other minorities. Things that don’t inherently hurt anyone, but are different from the general norm.” Reid shook his head. “They just want acceptance. I’m not saying this is necessarily a minority in the same sense, but you know what I mean.” He trailed off, seemingly aware that everyone was looking at him and refusing to meet anyone’s eye.
“You sure know everything about everything,” Morgan said, tilting his head at him, no teasing in his voice now.
Reid turned back to Gideon. “How would the victim explain the interaction?”
“Jarring,” Gideon said. “Said he kept jumping between spots once he’d started. As if he was afraid to linger for too long. Fortunately for the victim he didn’t seem to be too ticklish, which could explain the seemingly interrupted attempt. He wasn’t getting the reaction he was hoping for.”
“But instead of lashing out once things went wrong, he left.” Prentiss exhaled. “Not the typical reaction of someone who was out of control.”
“We’re dealing with someone who’s probably spent a lot of time trying to make these attempted tickle sessions happen. He’s still hesitant. He’s disappointed, but seems to lash out on himself rather than his victims.”
“He’s insecure,” Hotch added. “Inexperienced. Maybe he’s young. He attacks both men and women.”
Morgan said, “He bisexual?”
Gideon nodded. “Maybe. Or maybe just desperate. For him to have known his victims would be home alone all night it shows he must’ve kept watch for a while, and yet there’s only a matter of days between the attempts.”
“Maybe he knows them.” All eyes were back on Reid. He met Gideon’s. “I, uh, happen to know of a- tickle club. In town. The Feather? Or well, it’s more of a department of a club? It’s part of a bigger fetish chain which has several smaller locations close by catering to certain- interests. The biggest one is the BDSM one. ”
“How the hell do you know that?”
Reid met Morgan’s gaze. “Take one guess.”
Morgan burst into laughter. “Doctor Reid!” he said incredulously. “I never would have pegged you as someone who even goes into clubs at all.”
“Please shut up,” Reid said, looking down at his notes again. “I’ve never gone inside.”
“It’s possible the UnSub met the victims there,” Gideon said, ignoring Morgan’s snickering. “Maybe it was harder to connect with someone. Maybe it wasn’t what he thought it’d be like and it made him frustrated. Reid.” Reid looked up in alarm and Gideon did a relatively poor attempt at holding back a grin. “I think it’s time for you to go inside.”
*
“So are you ticklish?”
“Please, Morgan.”
Morgan held up his hands. “It’s just a question! A mighty relevant one may I add. Don’t want you to get attacked in there.” He made to poke him, but Reid slapped his hand away. “Aw, you’re no fun. Though I’m sure we will see plenty of people having fun soon,” he said, examining the building which, other than the relatively small sign of a feather blinking in an afternoon-dulled neon pink, looked like a regular building.
Reid said, “They should be open, although the, uh, specific activities don’t start until later.” He turned to Morgan. “Right now it’s just a bar.”
“Mm, pity. I was looking forward to seeing people giggle.”
Reid grabbed the door handle. “Really?”
Morgan shrugged. “Yeah, why not? Got curious. Did some digging. Or well, asked Garcia.”
“Did you like what you heard?”
“I wasn’t as appalled as I would’ve been had I not heard your passionate defense of it earlier. Now it just felt like something that’s not my cup of tea, but totally cool at the same time, you know?”
Reid opened the door and the faint sound of jazz met their ears. “Yeah, I get it.”
Hotch, who had been entirely silent throughout their conversation, took the lead once inside. “FBI. I’m SSA Hotchner. This is Agent Morgan and Doctor Spencer Reid.” They all showed their badges to the quite frankly extremely alarmed young man working the bar. He could barely be of legal age to be there at all, let alone work there on his own. “We just want to ask a few questions.”
“We have our permit,” he said. “And never missed rent.”
Hotch raised his hand. “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble here. We’re mainly interested in your clientele.”
“What they do isn’t illegal either.”
“No, but when someone ties people up in their homes without their consent and starts doing what you do here it becomes a bit concerning,” Morgan said.
The guy’s eyes widened. “The hell?”
“That’s what we said.” Morgan let out a laugh, which made the kid visibly relax. “We’re just here to ask whether you’ve noticed someone who’s, well, a little strange come around here? Someone who’s seemingly new to the scene, but who keeps appearing most nights. Doesn’t really talk to anyone?”
“Dude, that’s half the people here.” The guy rolled his eyes, although his voice held fondness. “Some people here are very… shy. But they eventually find themselves, and their circle. Nine out of ten times at least. It’s pretty vulnerable, you know, coming here. That’s why I’ve suggested we start doing coded bracelets, but the boss says it will put too much pressure on people knowing why they came in to begin with. What they’re looking for and all. Some people are simply curious.”
“So there’s no one who seems particularly suspicious? Someone giving you a bad vibe?”
He looked at Morgan and shook his head. “Not that I can think of, but to be fair, it becomes quite- distracting to work here once everyone starts giggling.”
Hotch nodded. “We’ll come back tonight then.”
The guy broke into a grin. “Better be careful. Many people really value consent here, but might get poked once or twice anyway.”
Morgan patted Reid’s back, who was hovering behind them as if scared to be seen. “We’ll take the risk.”
*
The club wasn’t as packed as they’d thought when they all arrived many hours later, having tried their best to dress for the occasion. Only Morgan truly managed, and even he seemed much too stiff to look like he was fully enjoying himself.
“So much is happening,” he said, and he was right. While they’d been away the premises had changed and they now found thick curtains lining the walls which hid various methods of bondage. The idea was that people had the right to not have to see the activities happening unless they consented, although you could hear the faint sound of panicked laughter through the music. When the team peeked behind one of the curtains they found just simple shackles on the wall, meant to chain one’s hands above the head while the feet were free but useless. The one next to it had a chair with ropes. The guy working the bar (how long even was his shift?) told them they had several rooms in the back where people could go for more “adult fun, if you know what I mean. Not like that,” he added at Morgan’s look. “But there are more full body bondage opportunities that’s just much too personal to be held here. Although there’s one room where you can have an audience. Some of them like it.”
“What’s this?” Gideon asked, pointing to a box which was really just a bucket.
“The tool machine. You can stick your hand in and pick a tool at random. You know, feathers, brushes, toothbrushes, all that. This one.” He tapped the one next to it, which was transparent. “You can see what’s available and you grab what you want. Some people have a clearer vision while others want to be surprised.”
They walked into the bodies, some dancing, some talking, some engaging in quick and playful tickle fights and spilling their drinks during it and having to make their way back to the bar to replace it. A brilliant marketing strategy for the bartender’s tip jar.
Morgan caught a woman’s gaze and averted his eyes with a slight panic. “We can’t eliminate the idea that the victims might’ve met the UnSub here and are simply too embarrassed to admit it.”
“Maybe we should talk to them again,” Gideon said, visibly uncomfortable with the proximity of people. Despite the unfamiliarity they all seemed more curious than perplexed now about it all. Morgan hoped it would calm Reid, who’d not said a single word since they arrived, nor during their initial visit that afternoon, which was unusual. Profilers were good at their job, but he tried not to take guesses as to why he was being strange about this. It wasn’t, at the end of the day, his business.
They split up, Morgan and Reid walking together simply out of habit. “You see that?” Morgan pointed to a woman curling her fingers into another woman’s neck, making her shake with laughter if only for a moment. “That’s actually cute. I can see why people might like this nonsexually too.”
Reid glanced back at him and smiled, something small and subtle but oh so obvious to the BAU member. Morgan had to keep himself from actually reaching out to tickle him just to see it again. No matter his connection to this - was there even one or was he just being his usual knowledgeable self? - he was certain Reid was ticklish. He felt like the type. The type to squirm and flail and curl up. His reactions loud yet quiet at the same time.
Or maybe Morgan was just making that up.
“We’re looking for someone who’s seemingly shy,” Reid said, walking deeper into the room. Morgan had to jog in order to keep close enough to hear him over the booming music, which had replaced the afternoon’s calm jazz. “Someone not actively participating, and yet looking a little too intently at the others.”
“So not someone who’s making sure not to stare out of politeness or maybe timidness.”
“Exactly. This individual is desperate for it, but something stops him from joining.”
Someone bumped into Reid who in turn flew into Morgan. “Sorry!” the man yelled out, his grin huge as he pointed to someone behind him. “They got my sweet spot.”
He left as quickly as he’d arrived and Morgan helped Reid to steady himself again, unable to stop himself from laughing. “This is so… different.”
Reid turned to look at him, his face suddenly pink. “It is.”
Morgan tilted his head. “You’re making it really hard not to ask, you know. But I won’t, don’t worry.” He patted his shoulder. “Let’s keep looking.”
The room was becoming livelier by the minute, laughter and screaming and squirming filling the space and making Morgan feel as if he didn’t fully fit anymore. Reid was walking ahead of him, which wasn’t necessarily unheard of, but Morgan suspected it might’ve had something to do with him wanting to make sure Morgan couldn’t see his face unless he wanted him to. He could imagine it though. All wide, shifty eyes, the rest of his face immobile as was usually the case when Reid tried not to give too much of himself away.
His eyes told on him, though. Always had.
“Hey.” He reached out to get his attention, his fingertips grazing the small of his back. He wondered if it tickled him. Wondered if every single time they’d touched had been ticklish in any way. It was ridiculous. He didn’t even actually know if Reid was ticklish at all. “Look.” He pointed to the corner of the room when Reid turned toward him, directing his gaze to a lone man standing by the wall, visibly uncertain. “He look suspicious to you?”
Reid didn’t reply at first, his eyes fixed on the stranger. “Not necessarily,” he finally said, turning back to Morgan. “He might’ve just arrived, but we can watch him for a bit longer.”
“You do that,” Morgan said, patting his back. “I want to take a look around.”
He left him and wondered if he should’ve offered to do the opposite. Have Reid walk around without feeling his gaze on him. Free to watch. Free to explore. But they were working a case here, and he felt Reid would be grateful to not be given the opportunity to stray during it anyway, what with a group of incredibly skilled profilers walking around among him.
Morgan tried not to think about it.
He peeked behind one of the curtains, finding a man nearly tearing off his limbs from how hard he was pulling at his restrained hands, a woman letting her nails trail the bare skin of his midriff, up and down as he stood there nearly dangling in the handcuffs. Morgan felt he was intruding, which he technically was, and left, unsure of how he felt. He wasn’t meant to be seeing any of this, really, being merely a curious outsider, and so he stopped trying to understand it and focused on the people who weren’t laughing.
There weren’t many of them.
“Let’s regroup,” Gideon said when he bumped into him. He’d dropped his uncomfortable expression and was merely in work mode now. “Where’s Reid?”
“I left him watching a man.”
“Anyone of interest?”
“Interesting enough.”
But when they arrived at the spot Reid should’ve been at he was nowhere in sight.
Neither was the man.
Something in Morgan panicked, even though it was more likely for Reid to have wandered off than for him to have been forced away.
“He was right here,” he said, turning to the others. “I was barely gone for ten minutes.”
“Relax,” Prentiss said, shooting him a calming smile. “Maybe he went to the bathroom. This isn’t a crime scene.”
Hotch said, “Try calling him.”
“Right.” He fished out his phone. “A miracle if he hears anything through this music though,” he muttered, dialing his number anyway.
He craned his head over the crowd in the hopes of seeing that unruly head of hair. He couldn’t pinpoint why he felt nervous about this. As far as he was aware there lay no danger in here, only people living life in a way he’d never thought of before.
But it was a case, and the image of Reid tied up without his consent briefly crossed his mind. “Come on, pick up.”
“We’ll find him,” JJ said. “He probably just saw something. He can’t have gone far.”
“God, what if he gets tickled to death.”
“Highly unlikely, seeing as the clientele values consent more than anyone I’ve ever heard of,” Reid’s voice suddenly said.
“Jesus, Spencer,” Morgan sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Where are you?”
“On your left. I’m waving.”
“I see you.”
“I lost the man.”
“Never mind that.”
Morgan hung up and watched Reid make his way through the crowd. “I don’t think he’s our UnSub,” he said when he joined them.
“You don’t?”
“He had several of the characteristics we were looking for, but he did one thing which made me cross him off of the list of suspects immediately.”
“Which was?”
Reid’s face pinkened. Come to think of it he’d been looking a bit flustered ever since Morgan caught the sight of him in the crowd. “He asked me to tickle him.”
“Ah.”
“Said he’d noticed me looking.”
“I see.”
“As far as I’m aware the UnSub does the tickling.”
“Right.” Morgan grinned. “Did you accept?”
Hotch appeared in Morgan’s line of vision before Reid could reply. “Outside. Come on. I can’t think with this music.”
It was cold outside. Morgan could smell snow in the air, the ground glistening with frost. His sweat would start cooling down and he would be freezing soon, but in that moment he felt as if he was overheating. “What a night.”
“And we were only in there for half an hour,” Prentiss said.
“And we nearly lost Reid during that half hour,” Morgan said, turning to grin at him only to find him staring at the door of the club, immobile. “Spencer?” When the hell had Morgan started calling him Spencer? “What’s wrong?”
Reid pointed to the glass door. “Him.”
“What?”
He turned to look at them. “We’ve been looking at it wrong. We’re not looking for someone who’s too shy to participate, but someone desperate enough to force people into it. Because he can’t participate. He’s frustrated.”
“The bartender,” Gideon suddenly said.
“I talked to him,” JJ said. “He’s here almost every night. He knows nearly everyone.”
“So the chances of him just picking random people are slim,” Gideon said. “He probably knows exactly who’s home alone when. Regulars have a tendency of trusting servers way too much once alcohol gets involved.” For some reason he moved his gaze to Reid. “We need to talk to the victims again.”
*
“Why me?”
“Reid, you really want me to answer that?”
Reid had his back to Morgan, but he could see him stiffening. Hotch was walking beside him and turned to shoot Morgan a warning look which he chose to ignore. They’d barely slept. He couldn’t bother with Reid’s attempt at playing nonchalant. He’d never questioned why he should be the one to meet victims before.
“Look,” he said with a sigh, regretting his tone. “You were familiar with it, and so I assume you’re the least likely to judge and they will feel it. That will be important.”
“We need them to open up,” Hotch agreed. “Because if they don’t we have no reason to suspect the bartender, but I’m going to assume they find this embarrassing since they never said anything about it. At least in the case of the last victim. I reckon the others couldn’t know what he’d been planning on doing.”
Reid hummed, but didn’t answer. Morgan thought of pulling him into a side-hug, letting his fingers dance over the back of his ribs and telling him to lighten up. But he had a feeling Reid wouldn’t appreciate that, especially now.
He still didn’t know if he was ticklish. Sometimes it felt he would never find out.
And why did that matter anyway?
The latest victim, a young man barely older than Reid, let them into his apartment warily, and Morgan felt a bit bad for the questions he was about to receive. He could only imagine how awkward it would feel for the freaking FBI to ask you about your kinks out of nowhere and for you to have to answer them honestly.
“Thanks for talking to us, Mr Johnson,” Hotch said.
Johnson crossed his arms. “Anything to catch this creep. Have you found him?”
“We may have a suspect, but we need you to be honest with us about something.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”
Hotch turned to Reid. Your turn.
Reid cleared his throat. “The one thing about your case which sticks out from the others is the fact that you got tickled, so we visited The Feather.”
Reid purposefully said the club’s name and they watched Johnson stiffen semi-visibly. To them it was as clear as day. “The what?” he said anyway. Morgan nearly smiled. He sounded like Reid, in a way.
“The tickle club downtown,” Reid explained. “Are you familiar with it?”
“Not really.”
“Mr Johnson. Curt. Can I call you Curt?”
Curt shrugged. “Sure.”
“We need you to be honest, because if you’ve never been there we have no reason to suspect the person we suspect as there will be no connection.”
Morgan and Hotch fell back and watched Reid lean back against the wall, relaxed and calm, but tilting his head in a way that would hopefully make Curt feel safe.
Curt flushed. “I- okay. I’ve been. A few times.”
“We went last night. It’s fun, isn’t it?”
“I guess.”
Reid smiled, eyes downcast as he continued. “I’d never been inside before. I guess this was as good of a reason to try it. Well, not try it. Working a case and all.”
Curt let out a laugh. “I get you. I, uh, don’t think I gave anyone any reason to come do that to me, though. I’m a ler.”
This time it was Curt who was testing Reid. Morgan and Hotch watched Reid’s grin grow, but the way he’d tucked his hair behind his ears made the tips of his ears turning red quite visible to them all.
Morgan shook his head. Clever bastard.
“We spoke to the bartender,” Reid continued. “Are you close?”
“Charlie? We’ve talked. He’s almost always there.” He’d dropped his denial, which was a good sign. “I wouldn’t say he’s my best friend, but he’s friendly. Why? You don’t suspect him, do you?”
“He’s a person of interest, that’s all. But he fits well enough with the profile.”
“Which is?”
“Someone who observes and never joins.”
“Well, he works.”
“And yet he’s never gone there when he’s off, has he?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“If he’s usually there when it’s open it means he rarely has the day off when the club is open. It can be frustrating to not be able to find what you want, especially something so… vulnerable.”
Curt cocked his head, smirking at Reid now. “You’re very right, Mr-?”
“Doctor.”
“Funny last name.” Reid laughed and Curt added: “You have a nice laugh.”
Morgan suddenly didn’t like this at all.
*
“You were flirting with him.”
“I wasn’t flirting with him.”
“Uh huh. Well, he certainly was flirting with you.”
“That doesn’t mean I was flirting back,” Reid said, running a hand through his hair. They were in the elevator, Hotch between them. “You wanted me to talk to him, right? I was charming, right? Timid, safe, relatable. Wasn’t I, Hotch?”
“You certainly knew what to say to get him to talk, yes,” he replied, not looking at either of them. “Now stop bickering. I truly do believe this Charlie is our guy.”
“I wasn’t bickering,” Morgan mumbled as they exited the elevator and walked into headquarters. “But better be careful, Reid. If you start becoming too friendly Charlie might kidnap you next.”
“I’ve barely talked to him. I can’t see that happening.”
“I’m just looking out for you. I don’t know how ticklish you are.”
Reid rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to share that information if that’s what you thought.” But he was blushing and suddenly Morgan was too.
Lord help him.
Morgan and Hotch were the first ones in the room, Reid having had to go fix something and the others not yet having arrived. Morgan sat down where he knew he would have a good view of the board, which he was sure Reid would be standing by to speak even if only for a moment. He was so focused on choosing his seat that he didn’t notice Hotch’s eyes on him at first.
“Morgan,” Hotch said, sounding rushed. “Be careful, okay?”
Morgan frowned. “Careful? I’m not ticklish.” A lie, but he truly wasn’t that bad, okay. “Why should I be careful?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Okay. Well, unlike Reid I’m not a mindreader.”
“You’re taking this case personally.”
“What? Have you seen Reid? He’s more skittish than ever.”
“You’re taking it personally because of Reid.”
Morgan spluttered, but Gideon chose that exact moment to enter the room and he wasn’t able to reply. “You okay?”
“He’s fine,” Hotch said, and Morgan could’ve sworn he saw the hint of a smile on Hotch’s lips.
“Reid, fill us in, will you?” Gideon said two minutes later, the room full and Morgan still speechless.
Reid cleared his throat and stood, and Morgan now wished he’d chosen any other seat. “We talked to Mr Johnson. He didn’t admit to our suspicion verbatim, but as our conversation continued he made it very clear he visits the club frequently and has talked to Charlie.”
“Charlie?” Prentiss asked.
“The bartender,” Reid clarified. “We talked to the other victims who, after some gentle prying, admitted to having visited the club too, so I think we can agree that the UnSub probably saw them all there.”
“And are we sure about Charlie?” JJ asked.
“They described the UnSub as about 5’4, lanky, skittish.“ Reid closed his notes. “But what really settled it was that the first victim recognized his voice when she visited the club again this past weekend.”
Prentiss threw her hands out. “So all we gotta do is prove it’s him?”
“Exactly.”
“And how do we do that?”
Reid’s face changed and Morgan realized what he was about to suggest before he even said it. “Reid, no.”
Reid found his gaze, something determined yet much too vulnerable in it. “It’s the only way.”
“It’ll take too long.”
“Not actually. The second victim said they’d only been to the club a handful of times and I don’t see any reason as to why they would lie.” Reid shrugged. “We could get it done in less than a week if I just go every day.”
“What exactly are we talking about here?” Prentiss asked and Reid turned his gaze back to her.
“I’ll go to the club and befriend Charlie. Drop hints of where I live. Maybe we can get a temporary apartment he can break into. We catch him in the act.”
“He knows you’re FBI.”
“Yes, but I never said anything so he won’t recognize my voice. And I mostly stayed out of view when we first visited him.” Morgan remembered. Reid hiding behind him, as if scared of being caught looking too hard. “You of all people know I can disguise myself quite well when I want to.”
Morgan exhaled slowly. “Just. Be careful.”
Reid smiled, something small. “I always am.”
*
“So are you ticklish?”
“Derek.”
Morgan held up his hands. “I gotta know, pretty boy. What if he actually does tie you up.”
“I’ll survive.”
“Is that so?”
Reid flushed, turning back toward the road. They were sitting across the street from the club, waiting for it to get late enough for Reid to enter. Hotch and Gideon were in another car, all of them having decided to wait outside during the hour or so Reid said he would be inside. It had taken everything in Morgan to agree not to join him.
“I don’t remember us having to take a tickle endurance test before joining the BAU,” Morgan continued, grinning as Reid’s blush intensified. “So I’m just gonna assume you’re either not ticklish at all or that you don’t fully mind it.”
“Not that I’m not easy to crack, I see.”
“Not being easy to crack and having a terrible time while tickled are different things.”
“Nor that I trust you will get to me before it happens?”
“Reid.”
Reid looked at him, maybe only because Morgan had reached out and grabbed his wrist. “I’m, uh, sensitive there,” was his reply.
Morgan raised an eyebrow. “What? Your wrist?”
“Just a little. It’s enough for me to pull away if someone traces it lightly.”
“I see.” Morgan moved his hand up toward his elbow. “And here?”
“On the inside, yes.”
His shoulder. “And here?”
“No.”
“I think you’re an upper body type of ticklish, am I correct?” Morgan hovered his hand over his ribs now, fingers wiggling in the air.
Reid covered his torso with his arms, a giggle slipping out which was so fucking adorable Morgan nearly combusted right then and there.
“Ah, so I am correct,” was all he said, his hands still hovering. “Come on, let me try.”
“That’s not how that works,” Reid choked out, but he slowly moved his hands to the side and gave Morgan slight access to his ribcage and Morgan wasted no time. “Ah, no!”
“Oh my, Spencer Reid,” Morgan sang, letting his fingers poke and prod the skin while he could, narrowly managing to not let Reid’s flailing hand collide with his nose. “Oh, this won’t do, you know. He’ll break you immediately. We should call it off.”
“No, don’t!” Reid said, answering him, or possibly just being tickled. Morgan wasn’t sure.
“Is your belly ticklish too?”
“Derek, pleas-AH!”
“Very ticklish, I see.”
The sound of Morgan’s phone going off interrupted them. A text from Hotch. ‘We can see you, you know.’ Reid started spluttering, but all Morgan could do was laugh more hysterically than the situation called for.
“Well, guess you’re ready to go meet some other giggly people now,” he said, patting his arm with a grin.
Reid huffed, rubbing at the spot he’d been tickling. “It’s not- I’m not-”
“It’s okay, Spencer. You don’t have to explain.”
Reid nodded. “Okay. I- Thank you.”
Morgan smiled innocently. “For being decent or for tickling you?”
“Oh my god, please shut up.” He opened the door. “I’m going now.”
“Have fun.”
“Shut up.”
“Spence?”
Reid turned back to him. “Yes?”
“Please be careful.”
His face softened. “I will.”
Morgan sat in the car for approximately 23 minutes before he got restless enough to become semi reckless. When he pressed his face to the window of the club he could see Reid, dressed in a mesh top which showed off an unfair amount of his abdomen, leaning against the bar and blinking his glittery eyelids at Charlie. If their theory that he was bisexual due to his way of targeting people of all genders was correct, he should be eating this up. Morgan knew he was.
Would.
His phone rang. “Get back in the car,” Gideon said tiredly.
“I just wanna see.”
“Morgan, it’s an order,” Hotch said somewhere in the background and Morgan sighed. “You can pine over him at a later date.”
“Oh, you’re mean, you know that?” he said and hung up, but not before hearing the rare sound of Hotch laughing.
He watched Reid for a moment longer, knowing he was using borrowed time. He was smiling at the bartender, something shy yet curious. Morgan felt as if he was truly watching Reid take in the situation he was in, which made him feel as if he was prying. He wondered if he would’ve ended up here without the case, blinking timidly in the crowd, or whether Reid truly lived more in his head than in real life.
Reid was disappearing into the crowd. Charlie’s gaze followed him for only a second longer than Morgan liked.
He huffed. He wondered if he would’ve ever known about this, without the case. Why would he? He’d never even tried to tickle Reid before, which was strange considering how playful he was with most people, but maybe not strange when you took into account how Reid would react to physical touch. He shied away from it, or he simply seemed entirely in awe of it. Touch starved, Morgan realized. Touch starved and unsure of how to act.
Oh, Reid.
*
“My pretend apartment is nicer than my real one,” Reid said the next day, visibly tired not from how late he’d left the club, because it hadn’t been that late and all four of them had left simultaneously, but Morgan imagined he’d stayed up half the night, pondering it all.
“Well, I hope yours has slightly more personality,” Morgan said, taking in the blank walls and beige interior. They had no time to make it quirky. Charlie wouldn’t care anyway. “But hey, at least the bed’s comfy,” he added, wiggling his eyebrows at Reid who merely rolled his eyes.
Garcia was setting up discreet cameras around the apartment, focusing specifically on the windows facing the street in this first floor apartment, the front door and the entire bedroom. Morgan had been busy trying to convince Gideon he could hide perfectly well in the spare room while waiting for the UnSub, but he kept getting shut down.
They didn’t expect the UnSub to break in tonight, since Reid hadn’t told him anything about where he lived yet, but they were planning on having Reid stay at the club until it closed the next night with the hopes Charlie would follow him as he drove to his fake apartment. They’d found out what area he lived in and had Reid set up house only ten minutes away from him to hopefully catch his attention.
“You’re gonna have to stay here for the rest of the week,” Hotch was saying, pointing to the four-poster bed. “But do try to get some sleep too, okay? We’ll alert you if we see him moving.”
“What about you then?”
“We’ll take turns sleeping, don’t worry about us.”
“The bedroom’s all set up, wonder boy,” Garcia said, swiveling around to face Reid. “But no cameras will be on while you’re alone, we promise.”
Reid shrugged. “I don’t mind.”
“Well, if everything goes to plan we’ll know exactly when he shows up,” Morgan said. “No need to intrude on your privacy, as fun as it would be.” He poked Reid’s side, finding that now that he knew he was ticklish he couldn’t stop.
Reid squirmed without a sound, maybe trying to keep it cool in front of the others, maybe not wanting to alert anyone else of Morgan’s shenanigans and his adorable reactions.
Garcia grinned though, wide and toothy and utterly delighted. “Oh, do that again. I want to see him smile.”
“Your wish is my command, baby girl.”
Reid properly jerked away this time. “Hey. Don’t be mean.”
“Me? Oh, never.”
“Morgan, behave.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Morgan said, catching Hotch’s eye.
He simply pointed to the monitor which was currently resting on a chair beside the bed. “The camera’s on.”
“Oh, right.” Reid had gone red, which Morgan had found was his new favorite thing. “Looks like you’re in luck, pretty boy. Or should I say ticklish boy.”
“Oh, please, I’m sure you’re just as bad,” Prentiss said from somewhere behind him.
Morgan turned to raise an eyebrow at her. “Careful now, Prentiss. You don’t wanna start a war with me. I have two sisters.”
“Sounds to me like you’re scared, Morgan.”
“Who knew this case would turn into this,” JJ said with a laugh, and when Morgan turned to point to Reid, to say something about it being his fault, Reid had left.
He found him in the kitchen, staring into the mostly empty cupboard he’d opened. Morgan approached loudly enough to not startle him and leaned against the counter next to him. “Hey you.”
“Hey.”
“I’m sorry.”
Reid glanced at him briefly. “For?”
“Well, I assume I embarrassed you and that’s why you left. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“It’s fine.”
“Reid.”
“You are simply trying to lighten up the mood while using relevant methods related to the case. I’m acting irrational. It’s fine.”
“Reid, please look at me.”
Reid didn’t immediately and Morgan had a terrifying moment of wondering if he’d crossed a line.
When Reid did, he looked so vulnerable Morgan wanted to cry.
“Look,” he started, crossing his arms. “I don’t really know what’s going on with you and, well, this. I’m sorry if it’s uncomfortable for you. I’m sorry if it’s nothing and we’re making it seem like it is. But just know we’re really grateful you’re doing this. I’m sorry there’s no other way.”
Reid smiled. “It seems to me as if you’re rambling, Derek Morgan.”
“Oh, shut up, pretty boy.” Morgan made to poke him out of habit and caught himself just in time. “Shit, sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Morgan saw him blush just before he turned away, finally grabbing one of the few glasses from the cupboard. “I don’t really mind it in private.”
“Is that so?”
“Don’t tease.”
“I would never.”
“Uh huh.” Reid filled his glass with water and took a sip, staring at Morgan over the edge. His face was still red. Morgan realized he’d not really seen him blush before this case. Get uncomfortable, sure, maybe even border on embarrassed, but never blush. He was slightly obsessed with it now.
“You really think this will work?” Reid asked, setting the glass down on the counter.
“I hope so,” Morgan said. “Otherwise we have no way of proving it’s him.”
“Unless we follow him.”
Morgan hummed. “Actually, maybe we should. Hey, Hotch? Reid had an idea.”
*
Morgan arrived at headquarters the next day feeling surprisingly well rested. Most of the team was already there, downing cups of coffee and looking over their plans for the day which would involve Reid going back to the club for the third night in a row and then go stay at his fake apartment. The others would be staking out outside while a couple of agents would make sure to follow Charlie in case he decided to go for another victim instead. It was as fool proof as they could make these things.
“Morning,” Morgan sang as he entered the room. “Reid here yet?”
“No.” Gideon was frowning. “I reckon I can’t be mad if he’s a few minutes late seeing as we’re forcing him to go clubbing each night, but he’s never usually not here at this time.”
“He’s not late yet though,” JJ pointed out.
“No,” Gideon replied distractedly and Morgan felt panic seize him. “Let’s wait it out a bit, okay?” Gideon said, catching his expression. “Maybe try calling him.”
“Calling him. Right.” Morgan fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed Reid’s number, the room becoming more tense the longer the phone rang without anyone answering. “Dammit. I’m going over there.”
“Morgan, wait,” Hotch started, but Morgan held out a hand to stop him.
“With all due respect, Hotch, I’m not staying here. If Reid’s on his way I will see him coming up.”
“You’re not going alone,” Gideon said, standing. “Let’s go.”
Morgan, Gideon and Hotch sped to Reid’s apartment five minutes later when the genius still hadn’t arrived and still wasn’t answering his phone. Hotch was driving only because both Gideon and Morgan were too freaked out, but that didn’t keep Morgan from urging him to drive faster.
“We should’ve followed Charlie last night too,” Gideon said. “We were careless. Careless with Reid.”
“Let’s calm down now,” Hotch said, rounding a corner. “The UnSub doesn’t actually hurt people.”
“How exactly can we know that?” Morgan asked. “We’ve only seen failed attempts. And Reid. He’s ticklish, right? I don’t think he could pretend he wasn’t. The UnSub might get crazy or something that he’s actually getting a reaction. Who knows what he will do.”
“Morgan.” Gideon’s hand reached back to touch his knee. “Breathe. Reid will be fine. He’ll probably just be tied up and unable to call anyone.”
“Oh, god.” Morgan could see it. Reid struggling against his restraints half the night, all the while remembering nothing but Tobias Hankel and how he’d treated him while tied.
Reid was half-asleep when they kicked the door in, blinking at them in a mix of confusion and relief. “Finally,” he said hoarsely, pulling weakly at his hands. “My blood flow is all messed up.”
“Oh no,” Morgan said, fully entering the room. “Shit, Reid. I’m so sorry.”
Reid exhaled. “Just get me out of these.”
Morgan and Gideon started untying the ropes while Hotch called in the others. They had a new crime scene, after all. He started in on the ropes around Reid’s ankles once done, all of them grateful that the UnSub had at least thrown a blanket over him before leaving to keep him from getting cold. He was very much nearly naked underneath.
“You okay?” Gideon asked quietly when no one said anything, finally managing to free one of his hands which Reid brought down slowly, rotating his wrist.
“I’m better now,” Reid replied, closing his eyes. “I can’t believe I actually slept, but at least that helped time pass. I knew you’d arrive in the morning.”
“We should’ve not even let him get that far.”
Reid opened his eyes. “Derek.”
“It’s the truth.”
“You couldn’t have known.” Morgan freed his other hand and Reid, of all things, brought it to Morgan’s chest. “Can someone get me water?”
“I’m on it,” Hotch said, leaving the room as quickly as a ghost while Gideon moved down to untie Reid’s foot and he was free.
They helped him sit up, Morgan grabbing the first items of clothing he could find and throwing it in his direction. “I’m sure you’d rather shower, but-”
“We need to see if there’s any DNA on you,” Gideon finished for him, smiling weakly. “Sorry.”
Reid shrugged, pulling the covers up to his chin. “It’s okay.”
“We’ll try to be quick.”
“Okay.”
“Reid.”
“Yeah?”
Gideon rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I won’t rush you, but you’re going to have to tell us exactly what happened, okay?”
“Okay.”
Morgan sighed as Reid fell back into him. “I’m gonna kill him.”
“It was definitely him,” Reid said. “He was wearing a mask, but I recognized his voice.”
“Jesus, he talked to you?”
“Not very much,” Reid mumbled. “But he, uh. He tried to tease me? It was highly uncomfortable, which he probably agreed on since he only did it a couple of times.”
Morgan wrapped his arm around him and pulled him even closer. “I’m gonna kill him,” he repeated.
Reid didn’t reply, only shut his eyes and rubbed at his wrists. The others arrived only minutes later, tiptoeing around them until JJ finally gently asked Reid to get up, leaving the room for him to get dressed.
It was all business after that and Morgan didn’t see Reid until much later, sitting curled up on his couch with Gideon who was balancing a notepad somewhat awkwardly on his lap. “So a noise woke you up.”
“Yes.”
“But before you could get your bearings the UnSub was in your bedroom.”
“Yes.”
“And then what happened?”
Reid picked at his nails, not looking at anyone in particular. “He overpowered me. Taped my mouth so I couldn’t scream before cuffing me to the bed.”
“Cuffing?”
“He wanted to restrain me quickly before changing it into ropes. It makes sense actually. No one would be still for long enough for him to tie them up properly, especially since he doesn’t actually seem to have any type of weapon with him.”
“Your mouth wasn’t taped when we found you.”
“He took it off before he left.”
“So he kept it on for the entire, uh, session?”
“To prevent me from laughing too loud since I live in an apartment complex, yes.” Reid crossed his arm. “He seemed to try to make sure I wouldn’t suffocate since I couldn’t breathe properly. I don’t think it was only hesitation, especially not once he’d been at it for a while.”
Gideon wrote something down. “How long was he at it?”
“A couple of hours. It was hard to keep count after a while, but I am pretty certain he broke in at around 1:30AM and left around 3:30. I think I fell asleep at 5 and you arrived at 8:15.”
The whole team was listening to him now, all hovering in various corners of the apartment. Morgan was standing right in front of them, not sure what to do but wishing Reid would look at him.
“Would you reckon he’s still insecure even though he got what I assume is a satisfying reaction from you?”
Reid hummed. “I would say his conscience is too strong. What difference does it make to me if he does it for two hours or five? As long as he left before morning he had as much of a chance at getting caught no matter the time, meaning not much of a chance at all.” Something crossed over Reid’s face. “But of course, he’s had no chance at checking my schedule, so maybe he got paranoid this time around.”
“He’s getting more desperate, but he’s not bold enough yet to keep going once his impulsivity has passed.” Gideon wrote something down. “Just for clarification, he did tickle you, right?”
Reid twitched and briefly met Morgan’s eyes. “Yes. He tied me up and tickled me for nearly two hours straight. After he’d undressed me.”
“Undressed you?”
“I don’t sleep in just boxers.”
Gideon looked like Morgan felt. Ready to kill a man. Ready to die for Reid. When he looked around, the entire BAU team looked exactly the same.
“That’s all he did,” Reid continued, staring a hole into the floor. “Tickled me everywhere and then left. Like I said he tried to tease me a little. ‘Do you like that?’ ‘That’s a good spot’ and so on. But he was mostly silent. It was nearly the worst part. He felt so-” Reid cut himself off, shaking his head. “Inhuman. Like I was just a thing to him. And since the tape was muffling my laughter the whole ordeal was just so silent. I felt as if I could die and no one would hear.”
JJ and Prentiss were on his side within seconds, but Reid wouldn’t accept their outstretched hands. “I’m fine now,” he insisted. “It’s been over for hours. It didn’t hurt.” He let out a humorless laugh. “It just tickled.”
“Prolonged tickling without a break does hurt,” Gideon insisted. “Especially when forced upon you like this. You don’t have to pretend as if it wasn’t terrifying, Reid.”
Reid leaned his head back and blinked at the ceiling. Morgan had a moment of panic thinking he would start crying, but he simply said in a steady voice, “I guess.”
Gideon closed his notebook. “Well, I think we have enough of the story to piece this together. I’m having agents outside his apartment and work. We’ll catch him in the act, I promise.” He patted Reid’s knee. “You rest.”
Reid sprang up so suddenly he nearly knocked over the coffee table. “No.”
“No?”
“I can’t.”
“What-”
“Stay here.”
“Reid, we can have agents outside here too, but I doubt he will return.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“Don’t you want to have a shower first?” Morgan said, speaking for the first time. “Wash him off of you?”
Reid blinked at him. “We have showers at work.”
“Indeed we do,” he replied with a sigh. “All right, come on, pretty boy. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
*
Morgan panicked only for a moment about the fact that he couldn’t find Reid and hadn’t seen him for the past two hours before Garcia, clever as she was, texted him that he was in her room. When he peeked his head in, Reid was curled up on an armchair in the corner which Morgan didn’t remember belonging there, his gaze stuck on the floor. “Reid.”
“Shh, don’t disturb him,” Garcia said gently. “He’s reciting Don Quixote from memory.”
Morgan blinked. “Right.”
“He found out I’ve never read it, but that I love knight stories.”
“Well, Alonso Quijano isn’t technically a knight but merely believes it from consuming an enormous amount of chivalric romances. However, it is classified as one of the first novels, at least in western society, and therefore I found it only appropriate that she gets to hear the original story and not just the version pop culture has adopted.” Reid looked up and met Morgan’s eyes. “I just find I’m jumping between different translations and it bothers me.”
“You’re distracted,” Morgan said. “Makes sense.”
Reid looked down on the floor again. “I don’t like it,” he muttered and Morgan let out a surprised laugh.
“I’m trying to get him to eat something,” Garcia stage-whispered. “But he keeps saying after the next chapter.”
“Oh? That’s no good, pretty boy. You’ve not eaten since yesterday.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re lying. Baby girl?”
“Yes, sugar?”
“I have a protein bar on my desk. Could you get it?”
“Of course.”
Morgan turned back to Reid once Garcia had left, knowing he didn’t have much time. “Hey. You okay?”
Reid didn’t reply immediately. “Define okay.”
Morgan crouched down to get to his eye level. “I know this is weird for you. I’m sorry. But you have to remember to take care of yourself, okay?”
“This is so stupid.”
“Reid.”
“It’s, like, negative two on the trauma scale.”
“Reid, he literally tied you up and tortured you. I don’t care if he didn’t hurt you, it’s still torture. Even if you might normally like it.”
Reid covered his face. “Please stop. I can’t. Not now.”
Garcia returned before Morgan could reply. “Thanks, mama,” he said, grabbing the protein bar and forcing it into Reid’s hands. “Eat. Garcia will let me know if you don’t.”
*
“He’s hiding in Garcia’s room,” Morgan said. “I think he’s embarrassed and Garcia’s the only one who didn’t go to his apartment, well, after.”
Gideon sighed. “Well, I can’t blame him.”
“I have no idea what to do.”
“Give him time.” Gideon smiled, small and sad. “He’ll bounce back.”
Morgan rubbed his temples. “He says this shouldn’t be something to be traumatized about.”
“Ah.”
“I wish we’d not let him go home last night.”
“I know, Morgan, I know.”
*
Reid was hovering by his desk at the end of the day, visibly unsure of what to do.
“Pretty boy.”
He looked up, his face softening. It caught Morgan entirely off guard to see it.
“Uh,” he started, feeling dumb. “Let’s grab dinner.”
Reid shifted. “But the case.”
“The club’s not even open yet. We can have a bit of a break.”
“Okay.”
Morgan grinned and slung an arm over Reid’s shoulders as they walked to the elevator. He didn’t ask anyone else. No one else offered to join.
“So how far did you get in your Don Quixote recital?” he asked later, both of them halfway through their burgers.
“Oh, they just met Cardenio.”
“That tells me absolutely nothing, but I’m sure that’s great.”
Reid let out a laugh. “Nearly halfway through the first volume, Well, it depends on the translation, of course.”
“Of course.”
“I’m quite looking forward to reciting the part where Don Quixote pines over Dulcinea. I think Garcia will like it.”
“Oh, I’m sure she will.”
“Have you read it?”
“No. Not really my type of literature.”
“The sign of a well read mind is to read it all.”
“Did you just call me stupid?”
“Oh, no.” Reid grinned at him over his burger. It was the first real smile Morgan had seen all day.
“Hm. You’re lucky you’re pretty.”
Reid ducked his head. “Am I?”
Morgan blinked. “Of course. I keep calling you pretty boy, aren’t I?”
“I thought it was an insult of some sort.”
“Why would I be insulting you?” Morgan would feel offended had he not known how Reid felt about being complimented. He never really seemed to believe it unless it had anything to do with his intelligence.
Reid shrugged. “I just didn’t expect it to be a pet name.”
“I call Garcia all sorts of pet names,” he countered. “Flirting’s just our thing.”
“So you’re flirting with me?”
Morgan opened his mouth, but whatever he’d been about to say died at the tip of his tongue when he saw Reid tilting his head, eyes so fucking innocent Morgan knew he was messing with him.
Right?
“Yes,” he finally said. “Is that bad?”
“Not now that I know you’re doing it.”
“Is that so?”
“And that you’re doing it to Garcia too. It makes it less loaded.”
“Oh.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
They finished their food in silence. Morgan could practically see life return to Reid now that he was eating a proper meal. He sat up straighter. Looked less pale. Wasn’t just a shell of a person anymore. It made Morgan briefly consider not bringing him with him to the club - he shouldn’t have to see that man again.
“Tell me about Don Quixote,” he said, shoving fries into his mouth. “Please.”
Reid met his eyes. “From the start?”
“From the start. No reciting, though. We don’t have time.”
Reid smiled, bright and beautiful and heartbreaking. “Right.”
*
The club closed earlier on Thursdays, but they had been parked outside for the past two hours. They’d not said much, Morgan and Reid, but Reid had been picking at his nails and shaking his leg for nearly the entire time, which said much more than words anyway. Morgan sighed and reached out to place his hand gently on Reid’s knee, mentally slapping himself when Reid jumped at the sudden touch. “Sorry. You just- your leg-”
“Sorry,” Reid said, stilling it instantly. “Old habit.”
“That’s okay.”
“It probably gets annoying though after a while.”
Morgan let out a laugh. “A little,” he admitted.
Reid laughed too, both of them in stitches for nearly a whole minute for no real reason.
“He tickled me there,” Reid said once they’d calmed down. “On my knees.”
Morgan’s smile fell. “I’m sorry.”
“And behind them.”
“You don’t have to do this.”
“I know. But I want to. I need someone to know exactly what he did, but- it can’t be because it’s a case. It can’t just be evidence. Does that make sense?”
“It does, yeah.”
Reid slid down the seat, eyes on the street outside. “He started with my feet. Pretty classic way to start it, I think. Many people have foot fetishes alongside other kinks. Anyway. He tickled them for maybe 20 minutes and then moved up to my knees, then torso, armpits. Finished with neck before starting over, although he wasn’t doing it in order after that. Just random. That was almost worse.”
“Reid, I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah. Me too.” Reid let out a humorless laugh. “Actually, the worst part was when he found this spot around here-” He pointed to his upper ribs. “-which was probably my worst spot. I didn’t even know about it. He wouldn’t stop tickling it.”
“Reid.”
“Sorry.”
“No, no, don’t you dare apologize. I just- I don’t want you to feel like you have to tell me everything now. It’s a day tomorrow too.”
“That’s true.”
“But if you want to tell everything now feel free to.”
“Actually, maybe I will wait until tomorrow.” He checked his watch. “The club’s about to close anyway.”
As if on cue they watched the security guards usher the last people out, all giggling, all unaware of literal FBI agents sitting just outside.
“He probably has to clean up,” Morgan said. “Hey, hey. Breathe.” Reid had gripped his arm, squeezing it tightly enough for Morgan to turn to fully face him. “Reid. He can’t hurt you again. I won’t let that happen.” He grabbed his hand. “You hear me?”
Reid nodded. “I hear you.”
“We’ll catch this creep, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Now breathe.”
Reid breathed.
They watched Charlie exit the club twenty minutes later. Hotch called them, all cars slowly trailing the bartender who was driving a tiny red thing as Hotch gave Morgan instructions. They were to take a shortcut once they’d determined what direction he was going in. If everything went according to plan Morgan and Reid would see where Charlie would go in, whether it was an apartment complex or a house. If they were lucky they wouldn’t lose him. Morgan was determined not to lose him.
“Be careful,” Hotch told them before hanging up. Morgan wasted no time and they were soon flying over the roads as subtly as they could, until he swerved into a side street and picked up pace toward the part of town they had guessed Charlie was going toward. Reid was leaning forward, as if willing the car to go faster. He wasn’t speaking, but Morgan was muttering curses enough for them both.
Charlie pulled up to a house on an otherwise calm street and Reid, faster than Morgan had ever seen him move, made to exit the car as soon as Charlie did until Morgan stopped him. “Wait.”
Reid huffed, looking as if he was about to disobey for a second before he deflated, and together they watched Charlie round the car, pace back and forth as if hyping himself up, before disappearing into the shadows. The others rolled up not long after, and together they waited, needing him to actually break in and overpower the victim in order to make sure he was their original UnSub. They had no space for mistakes.
Once Hotch gave the signal they ran, quickly and silently, agents surrounding the house as Morgan kicked the door down and rushed inside, Reid just at his heels. The UnSub must’ve heard the commotion and was trying to climb out the window when they burst into the bedroom upstairs, but they had agents beneath it and it had slowed him down. He raised his hands as Morgan pointed his gun at him. “Don’t shoot,” he begged, practically shaking.
Morgan tilted his head. “Reid.”
Reid crossed the room, turned the UnSub around and cuffed him. Hotch and Gideon entered just as he removed the mask to reveal a silently sobbing Charlie. Morgan didn’t feel bad for him at all.
Reid shoved him against Morgan. “You’re under arrest,” he said, turning toward the victim, a man, freakishly similar to Reid. Charlie was starting to develop a type. “Are you okay?”
Only one of his hands was tied, duct tape covering his mouth. He nodded. He was still dressed.
Reid went to help him. Morgan exhaled and glared at Charlie who was blinking at Reid, mouth agape. “Don’t look at him. Let’s go.”
He pulled him out of the room, nodding at Gideon.
It was over.
*
Only it wasn’t really over, was it. Reid wouldn’t look at anyone for the rest of the night, nor the next day. He seemed tired. Eyes constantly blinking as if fighting off sleep. Eyes not really meeting anyone’s gaze as he hovered in the background, or hid in Garcia’s room. She’d fed him, she told Morgan, although he’d not eaten much of it.
“Did you sleep last night?”
Reid looked up with a start. Morgan had cornered him on the way from the bathroom. “Oh, uh-”
“Reid,” Morgan sighed. “You should’ve called. Hell, I should’ve offered.”
“Offered what?”
“For you to stay with me.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know.” Morgan pointed at him. “But I’m offering now.”
“It’s a Saturday tomorrow.”
“So?”
Reid shrugged. “I figured you’d want to be free of me on the weekend.”
Morgan snorted. “I’ll kick you out in the morning, obviously.”
Reid laughed. A genuine, beautiful laugh. “Deal.”
They cooked. That was unusual. He never really cooked for himself, especially not on Fridays, but he figured Reid probably needed the distraction, needed the smell of onions and garlic sizzling in a pan until they realized they’d burnt them, needed the potatoes roasting in the oven and the chicken on the grill, the kale being chopped into pieces slightly bigger than the cubed bell peppers and cucumbers and tomatoes. The mundanity of it all. The normalcy. “I only have beer,” Morgan said. “Beer would be great,” Reid replied. In a different life, maybe Morgan would play music and they would dance. In a different life, maybe Morgan would kiss him.
Yes, that was where he was at. No, this was not a new realization.
“Thank you,” Reid said much later, both of them on the couch, full, sleepy, content enough. He was curled up on one end of it, as opposed to the way Morgan was sprawled out on the other. Morgan had only thought of him giggling under his fingers once and hated himself for it.
“You don’t have to thank me,” Morgan said.
“Yes, I do.”
“Okay, well, you’re welcome then.”
Reid ducked his head, but Morgan could still see him worrying his lips through his teeth, over and over. “I also want to thank you for, uh. For acting normal around me? Well, as normal as you can when I act like this.”
Morgan tilted his head. “You don’t have to thank me for that either.”
“I know I’m difficult.”
“You’re the exact opposite of that, Reid.”
Reid looked up. “Really?”
“You’re not lashing out. You’re not demanding anything. You simply slip away. You hide. I don’t want you to feel as if you need to hide.”
“I’m embarrassed.”
“I know.” Morgan turned to fully face him. “But you have no reason to be.”
Reid looked down. “I can’t help it.”
“I get that, I just- You’re a victim. You shouldn’t have to feel like you need to avoid us all.”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“But it was, Reid, it was. He tied you up against your will. He touched you against your will. That's a violation. I don’t care if you’re left without visible wounds. If you’re ticklish-” Reid twitched at the word. “-it’s torture to get tickled for too long without getting away. It doesn’t matter if you might otherwise like it. If there’s no consent there’s no enjoyment. Hey. Look at me.”
Reid did.
“I can see how this is an uncomfortable situation for you. Trust me, I get it. But no one thinks anything less of you because of it. Hell, we’re all probably just blaming ourselves for letting it happen. And if you’re embarrassed about being ticklish, let me just tell you that we’re all probably just as bad. Well, maybe not me-”
Reid laughed. “Oh, really?”
Morgan grinned. “Hush, pretty boy.”
Reid fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “You called me ticklish boy once.”
“Well, did I lie?”
“I guess not.” His face pinkened. “I, uh. I guess I can’t really explain why it embarrasses me that I’m so- sensitive.”
“I think that’s pretty normal, though? It’s kind of seen as a weakness, and since our reactions are involuntary it can be a bit vulnerable.”
“I guess.”
“Spencer.”
“Mm?”
“Come here.” Reid did without a word. “Roll up your sleeve and hold out your arm.” He did, again without questioning him. “See this?” Morgan hovered his hand over Reid’s wrist. “This is a spot that I know is ticklish. Am I tickling it?” He wiggled his fingers in the air. “Maybe you feel like I am, or like I will, because you anticipate the sensation and sometimes that’s worse. But I’m not going to do it, because you trust me not to.”
Reid inhaled sharply, watching Morgan’s wiggling fingers for a moment. “What if I wanted you to?” he asked quietly.
“Well,” Morgan started, unsure of why his heart was suddenly racing. “If you wanted me to, I’d probably do it. Because even though we’ve been talking about how it shouldn’t be embarrassing, it’s still really fucking cute that you’re ticklish, Spencer Reid.”
Reid flushed. He’d tucked his hair behind his ears and Morgan watched how they grew red first, his blush then spreading down over his face. Maybe, if Morgan flustered him for long enough, his neck would join in.
He still hadn’t pulled his hand away. Morgan experimentally moved upward, hovering over the inside of Reid’s elbow. “Just say when.”
He kept moving over his arm, watching how Reid visibly started recoiling as he got closer to his neck. He’d probably start giggling if Morgan kept it up, which was so adorable Morgan nearly did, but he moved back to his wrist, unsure of where the line was. He refused to cross it.
“He didn’t tickle my arms,” Reid suddenly said. “I guess it’s an unconventional spot.”
“Like palms.”
“And shoulders.”
“Your shoulders aren’t ticklish.”
“You remember.”
“Of course I do.”
“My palms are.”
“Oh? Isn’t that something I’m supposed to figure out myself?”
“Not if you do that.”
“I won’t touch you until you tell me to.”
“That’s cruel.”
Morgan let out a laugh. “Is it? I thought I was being quite merciful.”
“You know how I feel about it.”
“Do I?”
“You’re a profiler.”
“I try not to profile my friends.”
Reid huffed. “So how did you guess?”
“That you like it? Oh, I don’t need to be a profiler to figure that out.”
“I want you to do it.”
“Tickle you?”
“Uh huh.”
“Now?”
Reid hesitated.
“I’ll stop as soon as you tell me to,” Morgan promised. “We can even have a safe word.”
“Vegas.”
“Vegas? Okay. Can I start here?”
“Uh huh.”
“I need you to say yes, pretty boy.”
“Yes. Please.”
Morgan let his fingertips collide with Reid’s palm, his fingers twitching as Morgan moved over the skin gently, not necessarily tickling it, but being so very gentle he knew it probably tickled anyway. He glanced up and saw Reid staring at his hand, as if mesmerized. “How’s that?”
“On the verge of unbearable.”
“And this?” He moved upward, ghosting over Reid’s wrist, grinning when Reid made a sound which was eerily similar to a yelp.
“Much more unbearable,” he breathed out, covering his face with his other hand.
“You ready for me to go for your elbow?”
“Wait. Vegas. No, wait, don’t stop, but just- wait.”
Morgan stilled his hand, eyes never leaving Reid’s face. “Just say when.”
“I think this will make me start squirming.”
“That’s okay. That’s part of it. You’re not supposed to stay still. Well, unless you’re into that. But squirmin’s half the fun.”
“Right.” Reid breathed out a laugh. “Okay, go.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, go.”
“You sure sure?”
“Derek- ah!”
Morgan laughed as he wiggled his fingers over the inside of Reid’s elbow, following him when Reid moved, a dance of some sort. “I’m gonna get your neck now.” He gave Reid a couple of seconds in case he wanted to protest before curing his fingers beneath his chin, delighted at how Reid finally giggled. “Oh, that’s a good one, huh?”
“Oh my god,” he said through his laughter, his voice high pitched, his body unraveling in order to instinctively push Morgan away. “Not there.”
“No? How ‘bout here?” Morgan wormed his fingers under Reid’s arms, causing a ripple of events that resulted in him nearly getting a foot to his face. He grabbed his ankle. “Careful.”
“Sorry, I’m sorry.” His smile was so bright Morgan nearly cried.
“Hmm.” He squeezed his foot. “Tell me if you want it.”
“That’s so mean.”
“Nah, it’s the opposite of mean, pretty boy. I’m being considerate.”
Reid’s smile fell. “He wasn’t.”
Morgan dropped his foot. “Reid. He was an UnSub. He had no consideration for others. That doesn’t say anything about your worth just because you happened to cross his path.”
Reid nodded. “Okay.”
“You’re not believing me.”
“I will.” Reid sat up. “I promise I will one day, I just- I need time.”
“I have all the time in the world. And whatever it is that you feel about this, I want to understand.”
“Maybe I’ll tell you one day.”
Morgan grinned. “I’m looking forward to it. Now.” He hovered a hand over his knee. “What was it you said about your knees again?”
Reid giggled, his reaction instant, genuine, so fucking adorable that Morgan knew he could never pretend it wasn’t again. He vowed to make this enjoyable for him again, even if it still embarrassed him. Even if Morgan might not fully understand, although he wanted to try.
“We’re not all creeps,” Reid would say later, both of them lying side by side on the bed. The room was dark, although the light coming from the street lights outside illuminated Reid enough for Derek to see him moving. “I need you to know that.”
“I know, pretty boy.”
“A lot of us value consent.”
“I know.”
“Although many like bondage.”
“Do you?”
Reid hesitated for a moment. “I don’t think so.”
“Well, that’s fine too.”
“I don’t even think it’s because of, well, you know. I just don’t think it’s my cup of tea.”
“Totally get that.”
Reid turned to his side, hand hovering over Morgan’s ribs. “So are you ticklish?”
Morgan grabbed his hand. “No.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Sounds a bit like a lie to me.” He was grinning. Morgan had to laugh. “I’ll get you, Derek Morgan.”
“Only for me to get revenge, right?”
Had it not been dark Morgan was sure he’d see him blush. “Shut up.”
“Mm, make me.”
Reid did. It was their fourth kiss of the night, but who was counting.
(Morgan was, although he lost count by morning.)
*
Two weeks later they went back to the club, hand in hand.
#tickling#ticklish!reid#ticklish!spencer reid#moreid#criminal minds fic#moreid fic#criminal minds#tickle fic#n writes#for love to replace your shame
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Event poll results!
(summary version)
So last week I opened a poll to check what kind of YR fandom events you guys wanted to see and the respondents were... how shall I put it... "very excited" is most applicable I think? ;)
Because I'm a nerd who likes to analyze the results but also doesn't want to chase her entire following away, I'm going to make two result posts:
This post, where I will summarize the results as succint as I can, and address some of the remarks and suggestions that I received. I'll also make a conclusion on what I would suggest to do - feedback on that is certainly welcome!
A second post (which I'll link when I finish it, most likely tomorrow or even after cause I'm slow as fuck) with some more graphs, percentages, observations, cause I don't know shit about statistics but that won't stop me from having fun with it!
Fair warning - it's pretty long. I just find it easier to explain a little about the decisions I'm (not) taking, both to invite discussion and because I don't want this to be a black box blog that does whatever and you never know why. That being said...
Ready? Let's go!
RESULTS
I received 72 responses, 36 writers and 36 readers.
The top 3 most wanted events by READERS is: Big Bang (89%), Theme Week (86%), and Weekly Challenges (83%).
The event they were least excited about is Author Interviews (56%).
The top 3 events writers most want to PARTICIPATE in is, in order: Author Interviews (69%), Theme Week (64%), and Fic Exchange (61%).
The events they DO NOT want to participate in are Author Interviews (25%), very closely followed by Big Bang and Advent (both 22%).
READERS were (very) slightly more excited about a Wilmon theme week rather than a general YR week. WRITERS clearly preferred a general YR week. For both groups, a YR women week comes in third, and rarepair week is fourth.
All types of weekly writing challenges suggested scored similarly.
(I know some of these seem contradictory, which I why I'll make the second post explaining how I calculated these rankings and why -for example- Author Interviews are both the most AND the least popular event for writers ;) )
SUGGESTIONS
A lot of people wrote in suggestions, which I was SUPER happy about (I closed the form now but if you have any more, please just hit my inbox or DM me at @hilliska). A few people also offered to help, which I'm definitely gonna hold you to when decisions are starting to get made! ;)
Many people were excited about possible collabs between writers and artists.
"What about a "finish your draft/wip" or "write a new chapter on a wip". I have so many languishing WIPs…"
I think this is an EXCELLENT idea tbh - though we could incorporate it in the big bang by allowing wips as well. Also, as an FYI, there is also a (non-fandom-specific) Finish Your Shit-Big Bang that takes place every year (though this year's round is close to posting already) ;).
"I’d also love to see more Podfic in this fandom, but I don’t know how that could be an event."
I have zero experience with podfic but this does sound (ha!) like it could be fun. Maybe someone has experience with this from a different fandom? (honestly I'd love to experiment with this so hmu)
"Authors sign up to take one shot requests or readers get to write a prompt. Or if readers could submit or vote on prompts or something? Or readers submit a song and author writes a one shot based on a song. Something like that where readers can be involved too :)"
We could also easily incoporate this in a big bang - do a prompt bang or a reverse bang (fic based on art) for example? Or maybe involve readers in the weekly challenges, by suggesting tropes/words/... ?
"Write a comment on a fic-week!"
Yessss!!!! I am like... 95% sure there is a tumblr-wide event for this already but I can't for the life of me find it. So I could signal boost that or yeah, we could just pin a day ourselves :).
"Group chat/watch"
I'm afraid I'm not the right person to organize this kind of thing, but if you've been thinking of doing this and you were afraid no one would be interested - this is your sign!! ;)
"live writing event"
Same as above - though I do think there's some discords where this happens already?
"Some sort of collab, where authors get to write a fic together."
This could definitely be fun! There is currently one that originated on Twitter called Unlabeled - I don't know all the writers but I recognize at least @yourdemiurge, @skydragon05, @1-life-to-give, and @in-amor-veritas. Which obviously doesn't help if you're a writer wanting to collab, but at least there's people with experience in this fandom ;).
"Maybe a poetry week?"
I don't even write poetry but I'm obsessed with this suggestion. Could also be a writing challenge? Not sure about a whole week either, but there's World Poetry Day in March so maybe that can be a mini-event?
"Something not fic centered? Like fanart, edits, cosplay etc."
This is one of those things that I'm throwing out there for other people to run with, maybe, because. Well, I'm a writer and I know fic, but I really don't know much about the rest... Which is not to say I don't want to (help) run anything like this because it definitely could be fun, but it's a little out of my wheelhouse. But maybe @youngroyalsfanartarchive can help or knows people who would?
And now what??
Consider the below not as a definitive list but as a stream-of-consciousness conversation starters, so don't hesitate to send me your thoughts.
I will definitely do a Big Bang. Prompt-based or art-based or wip-based or something else remains to be decided, but this will happen. It will not happen NOW, however, because we don't know when season 3 will air. Big Bangs are big events, they ask a lot from writers, and if the s3 premiers at any time between signups and publications, it's going to make everything more difficult. But there was sufficient interest by writers to participate, so once we got a s3 date I want to put a timeline on this.
I'm talking with people about a possible YR women's week. The general/Wilmon week scored higher in the polls, but since we already had that in spring I'd like to switch it up a little.
I would like to do *something* for the anniversary of s2. Don't want to go regular theme week for this because of the above possibility, but maybe the not-fic-centered event could be good for this - we could do favorite episode/favorite non-wilmon character/... which are things that non-content-creators can also participate in by writing a short paragraph, reblogging gifsets/art of that episode/character, ...
"Finish your wip" would also be a good one for this though :)
The people behind the 2023 Secret Santa will not organize one this year, but I don't really want to jump in that, necessarily, because there's enough other possibilities and they might be back. But a Valentine fic exchange could maybe work?
The advent calendar idea drew mixed reactions (maybe because it's less well known?) and while I do think it could be fun, there's enough other things that people are excited about, so I'm putting it in the freezer for now.
The weekly challenges also drew mixed reactions - both readers and writers were excited to see them happen, but only a third of writers said they would definitely/probably participate. Then again, half of them said they would POSSIBLY participate. Maybe because it's an ongoing thing, so they don't want to promise they'd participate EACH WEEK but only sometimes?
So I'm not sure about this (also because it would significantly up the time required to maintain the blog). So I'd love more feedback on this to see which shape or form you guys would like this to take.
Fic recs scored solidly in the middle of the possibilities for both reader and writers. I wanted to include it because I was curious, but I'm a little hesitant to really do something with it, mostly because it often ends up being a popularity contest and. Well. We already know how to sort by kudos/comments on AO3. So I'm curious to hear other people's experiences on how to maybe circumvent that.
The Author Interviews were the most contested event - even (or rather *especially* among writers (and I secretly think it's hilarious the most wanted event by writers is the one that doesn't require them to write at all :D). I do think it could be fun (though I admit this is a format mostly geared towards writers) to help other writers to find other people to collaborate with, find betas, learn about different writing processes, ... And a self-rec feature would allow for fic recs without the popularity factor. So I'll most likely run this as a (bi-)weekly feature alongside the other events.
#young royals#library managment#this took me way too long jc#I promise there will be graphs but it'll be later. okay? ;)#and again this is a conversation starter#please let me know what you think
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I headcanon that today (June 14th, but I might not get it posted by midnight because time management is not my strong suit lol) is Steve's birthday, and we just had a book signing at the bookstore I work at tonight, so I was inspired to write this. It's modern day, and slightly aged up characters, but not by much. Enjoy!
Steve couldn't believe his luck. It was his birthday, and it seemed like everything was going just right today. First, he woke up before his alarm and actually felt energized, then Robin had promised to take him out wherever he wanted to go later on (even volunteering to drive so she could show off her new license and car), then his favorite coffee place gave him a discount and a free pastry since it was his birthday, and to cap it all off, he had gotten back a test from one of his most difficult classes, and he'd passed it with flying colors. All in all, it was a good day. But then, he saw a sign outside the campus bookstore, and it went from good to great.
The sign was advertising a book signing with a local author, who just so happened to be Steve's favorite author of all time. The guy's name was Ronnie Fitconi, a mysterious man who never had his picture in any of his books. He didn't write much about himself in the little "about the author" section of his books either, the only things he said was that he was 23, just a year younger than Steve was, he lived somewhere in Indianapolis, he preferred tea over coffee, he loved the beach, he was a cat person, and he was gay (which was pretty apparent from the books he wrote, but whatever).
The book that he was promoting with the signing was his fourth, pretty impressive for a guy so young, but Tik Tok had managed to make him blow up practically overnight. That and how secretive the guy was. Seriously, if you looked the guy up on Google, it was like he didn't even exist. There were no pictures of him, and no record of him except that he was a writer that blew up after his first book was released three years ago. This was the first book signing he had ever done, and it was only to the local college bookstore and a few others in the area, but all were small, and none were at big chain stores, only locally owned.
As soon as Steve saw the sign, he took a picture of it, then immediately called Robin as he rushed back to his car.
"Dingus!" She answered, her smile evident in her voice, "Happy Birthday! What's up, buttercup?"
"Hi, Robbie. Thanks for that. But also, you know how you said you'd take me to do anything I wanted tonight for my birthday?" He asked, practically vibrating out of his skin.
"Yeah. Did you finally decide what you want to do?" She asked.
"Yes, and I know it's probably not going to be the rip-roaring time you were planning, but just hear me out, okay?" He said, "How would you like to come with me to meet Ronnie Fitconi?"
"That author you like?" She asked, "Yeah, of course! I told you, anything you want to do, I'm down. So, what's the plan? Are we breaking into his house?"
"What? No! You are seriously so weird. He's doing a book signing at the campus bookstore, I was gonna bring my books and buy his new one and then I get to meet him and get his autograph! No breaking and entering required."
"Well, that's a lot less fun, but I'll be there. What time does it start?" Robin asked.
"6:30 tonight," Steve replied.
"Let's get there at 6:00, we don't want to have to wait forever, so it'd probably be better to get there early."
"Good thinking. In the meantime, we have a couple of hours, and my classes just ended for the day. Will you meet me for dinner and help me pick out what to wear so I don't look like a total idiot?" Steve asked, already heading towards his dorm.
"Of course. I'll bring tacos. I'll be there in ten."
With that, Robin hung up the phone, and Steve drove off towards his place. As soon as he got there, he went to his desk to get his copies of Ronnie's first three books. Steve would probably never admit to liking them as much as he did to anyone but Robin, because the guy wrote only romance novels, but he really did love them. He didn't read much, and when Ronnie's debut novel came out, he didn't have much interest in that, either. But then he read the second book when it came out, and he was hooked. He read the third one when it came out and only got further hooked, and finally he buckled and read the first one, too. He hadn't expected to like it, but he found that he couldn't put it down, and now that another one was coming out, he couldn't wait to read it, too.
The first book the guy had written was called "Kings of the Lost World", and it was a dystopian sci-fi romance. It was about a young man who thought he was king of all he saw, but just as he's settling into the position, the apocalypse hits. The king gets taken down a peg, having to team up with the same guy who had been in his position before, but got kicked off his throne before the new king had taken over, but now, they have to learn to lean on each other to survive. They have a rocky start at first, but eventually, it turns out that they fall in love, and they manage to find a place where they are safe and get to live out the rest of their lives in happiness. Steve honestly didn't think he'd like the book, since he typically hated both sci-fi and dystopian, but he ended up loving the book when he finally read it. It almost reminded him of when he was in high school, when Billy Hargrove came and kicked him off his throne for good, all except for the romance bit.
The second book the guy had published and the one that had gotten Steve hooked on the guy's writing was probably his saddest one, called "Blood of the Innocent". It was a noir thriller set in the 1920s, about a gay man who sang in speakeasies as a drag queen who got accused of murdering a bunch of young men that went to the clubs he sang at. The detective in the story, who was closeted himself, fell in love with the guy while trying to clear his name and solve the case, but after they'd started their affair, they were found out. This book didn't end up as happily as the first, with the two of them being able to run away together, rather they were both killed for their relationship and the original case was mostly forgotten about and covered up, only to go cold and remain unsolved. When Steve read it, he could not put it down, and when he got to the ending, he would be lying if he said he hadn't flat-out bawled over it. He had finished it around two in the morning one night, and Robin was not exactly happy about having to wake up to his call at that time to listen to him rant to her about it, but she read the book later at his insistence, and she soon forgave him once she got to the end.
The third book the guys wrote was called "Don't Fence Me In", and was a cute, sweet, rom-com kind of book about two young men who worked together on a horse ranch. The one man had lived there his whole life and who's father owned the place, but was getting too old to run it, so they hired a farmhand. That's where the other man came in, a handsome guy from out of town who had just been looking for work anywhere, and who the first guy thought was much too prissy and posh for the kind of manual labor that was expected of him. He had come from the city and was the son of a rich businesswoman, so why he wanted to run from that cushy lifestyle just to work on a rinky-dink ranch, the first guy didn't know, but he teased him about it relentlessly. But where he expected the guy to get offended and ditch his position, the other guy just took it lightly and met it with laughter, until they became friends, and eventually, even more than that. At the end of the book, the first guy's father, who, once he found out about the relationship supported it 100%, gave up ownership of the ranch to his son and his boyfriend, and the two were married on their land with the help of a fat check from the second guy's mother, who also supported them completely. Steve had gushed so hard over the book that when he was reading it, he found himself lying on his stomach with his legs kicked up and a permanent smile on his face as he twirled his hair. It was probably his favorite of all three books.
And now, as he held each book in his hands and placed them in his favorite tote bag to take with him to the signing event, he couldn't help but wonder what the next book might be about. That was another reason he loved this author so much, he always kept you guessing on what he might do next. Most authors picked one or two genres and stuck to them, but this guy was all over the place. And yet, everything he wrote was absolutely amazing, and had Steve captivated within a few pages. He could not wait to see where things would go this time.
After a few minutes of thinking about it, he heard a knock on his door, and he knew Robin was there. He went to let her in and immediately, the two of them set up the tacos on his desk and ate while Steve threw practically every piece of clothing he owned around his room, trying to find the perfect outfit. There was still an hour and a half before they had to be at the bookstore, but Steve refused to leave the apartment until he knew he looked perfect.
"Seriously, is it really that big a deal? I mean, you're gonna see him for like, five minutes. If that. You don't have to be in a tux or anything for that," Robin said as Steve continued to fret over whether he should wear his blue sweater or his green button-down as if the fate of the world depended on it.
"Yes, Robin, it is that big a deal! I don't want to look like an idiot! I'm already gonna look like a creep because of how much I love his books, and if I blank on him and say something stupid or can't speak at all, I want to at least look my best so he can't gossip about that to people, too!" Steve said, finally deciding on the sweater, but then having a whole new meltdown over which pants would go best with it.
"Okay, point taken, but also, you're selling yourself short. I'm sure he won't think you're an idiot, and he'll probably be flattered that you like his books so much. I mean, he wrote them for people to read and enjoy, right? And if you freeze up, I'll be right there with you to bring you out of it, so you really don't have anything to worry about. And go with the brown pants, the gray ones don't look right." She said, finally deciding to be helpful.
"Okay, I guess you're right. Now, which shoes should I go with? Dress shoes would probably be too formal, right?" He asked, holding his selections up to himself in the mirror.
"Yeah, just wear your converse or vans. We might still get stuck in line since this guy is so popular, so you should wear something comfortable. And wear your white dress shirt under your sweater so that the collar and cuffs stick out. It'll give you that cute academia look with your glasses and make it less weird to think of you as a bookworm." Robin said, helping him pick out the final few things and then leaving to give him privacy as he changed. Not that he needed it, they've both changed in front of each other countless times, but still. She also had a surprise for him, and she needed an excuse to count her cash without him seeing.
Finally, he was finished, and after he was finally satisfied with his hair, they put the leftover tacos in the fridge and Steve grabbed his books. They hopped in Robin's car, and got to the bookstore right at 6:00, ready to go inside with the others already on their way. The bookstore employees were apparently already checking people in, so Steve was anxious to get in there and get a good spot in line, but before he could jump out of the car (and his skin), Robin grabbed his arm.
"Wait, you're missing a few final things," she said, rummaging around in her little backpack that had the little video game character Kirby all over it.
"What?" Steve asked, his heart beating hard enough already. What could he have forgotten? Was his breath bad after the tacos? Did he have something on his face or in his teeth? Had his hair gone flat?
"One, a breath mint, just in case," she said, opening her pack of Altoids and giving him one. "Two, your inhaler, also just in case. We don't need you hyperventilating in front of your hero. Three, some lip gloss, just like back in our scoops days to really complete the look and make you just that much cuter."
She handed him a tube of her favorite lip gloss, strawberry banana flavored, the same kind she used to lend him way back when that made his lips pink and full. He slathered on a layer and handed it back to her, then popped the breath mint and slipped his inhaler into his pants pocket, fixing his hair and taking one last deep breath before turning to her and smiling nervously.
"You think I have everything?" He asked.
"Almost," she said, "You still need one more thing."
With that, she reached into her bag again and pulled out her wallet, handing him forty dollars in cash with a big smile on her face. Steve stared at the money, dumbfounded, trying to hand it back on instinct.
"No, keep it. You need it if you want to get his new book. Besides, it's your birthday present. You don't get to argue, I'm paying for it. Now let's get inside before they sell out!" Robin said, smiling widely at Steve's confused spluttering.
"Robin, you don't have to pay for me. Thank you, but you really don't-"
"Shut up your face, Dingus! I want to. Besides, like I said, it's your birthday present. Now, let's go, for real. We don't want to be the last ones in line, do we?"
Finally, Steve relented, climbing out of the car and meeting Robin at the front of it to give her the tightest hug he could muster before they walked in. They may be strictly platonic, but Steve loved her more than he ever loved anyone before, and he had to make sure she knew that.
Finally, they walked into the bookstore, where they were greeted by an overly chipper employee who already looked tired, and the event hadn't even started yet.
"Hi! Are you guys here for the book signing?" She asked, her customer service smile and attitude something the two of them were all too familiar with.
"Yeah, we are," Robin said, grinning widely at her.
"Great! Do you have your tickets already or do you need to purchase a copy of the book now?" the employee asked, covering her mouth against a yawn.
"No, we need to buy a copy," Steve said, holding tightly on his tote bag straps.
"Okay, that's perfectly fine. Just go on up to the front registers, Gigi will be there to help you out, and then just keep your receipt and you can jump in line. Have fun!" The employee smiled, then greeted the next people that came in behind them.
Steve and Robin went to the counter and did as instructed, asking the girl there for a copy of the book and paying for it before getting in line and waiting for it to start moving. As they did, Steve was practically on pins and needles, and Robin took the opportunity to examine the cover of the new book. It was called "Court of Royal Rivalries", and the pun was evident when you saw the cover. It was two boys playing basketball, one a brunet in a green and white jersey and the other a blond with not shirt on, just green shorts.
"Hey Dingus, can I see your book for a second?" Robin asked, and Steve handed it over.
"Sure, why?" He asked.
"I just want to read the back and see what it's about," Robin said, flipping it over.
"Ooh, read it out loud, I want to know, too." Steve encouraged, and Robin began to read.
"Seth Haner is the king of his high school, with everything his heart would desire. He's got money, he's got looks, he's got charm, and most of all, he's got his peers groveling at his feet for even a scrap of his attention. But after having been dumped by his girlfriend Natalie seemingly out of nowhere, he realizes that what he really wants, a love that will last, is the one thing he doesn't have. Enter Ben Holden, a new student transferring into the sleepy rural town from California. Suddenly, Ben is the hottest commodity in the school, easily dethroning Seth and taking over his court. Seth can't stand the guy, and is dreading it when he finds out that they'll be playing basketball together, the one things Seth has left after losing practically everything. Ben is a monster on the court, and Seth feels like he's losing basketball, too, when the coach tells them to work out their differences or they'll both be nixed from the team. Can Seth and Ben put aside their differences to find their similarities? Or will the blood of the two kings be spilled as they fight for the crown on the court?"
Steve stared at her as she finished reading the blurb, his jaw hanging open as she finished.
"Okay," he said, debating whether or not he needed to use his inhaler, "Either this is one hell of a coincidence or... Well, no, that has to be it! That's so fucking weird."
"I know! I mean, that's like your high school career in a nutshell. And look at the cover! I'm willing to bet my life that the brunet one is Seth and the blond is Ben, because this is too fucking uncanny. That is the creepiest shit ever. It's like a glitch in the matrix or something!" Robin agreed, handing the book back to Steve.
"Wait a second, hang on, I want to see something," he said, pulling out the other three books from his bag as the line began to move. He flipped them each open to the title pages, and Robin watched as he found what he was looking for.
"Okay, wait, look at this," he said, showing her the first one, "This book is dedicated to his sister, apparently, who 'taught him what it was like to live through the end of the world'. Then this one," he opened the second book to the same page, "This one is dedicated to his mom, who 'kept him safe until things got hard and then left him to the wolves'. And this one," he opened the third one, "is dedicated to his father, who 'should have supported him like Mr. Montgomery supported River'. So I wonder..." Steve said, then opened up the fourth book, and his heart nearly stopped when he read the dedication.
"What does it say?!" Robin insisted. They were only a few people away from meeting the guy, but Steve felt like he knew him already, and it only raised more questions that he couldn't figure out the answers to as he handed the book to Robin to read for herself.
The dedication read, "To my Pretty Boy. You know who you are. This is the way I wish our story ended up. I'm sorry."
Robin finished reading it and her eyes went wide as she looked up at Steve, the both of them utterly baffled. This was just impossible. Neither of them could believe it, and neither of them knew what to say. They were both trying to come up with some way to explain it, but before they could, another bookstore employee, a man about their age with dark hair down to his shoulders, ushered them through the backdrop screens that were set up to keep the interactions private and told them to have fun.
Steve and Robin didn't know if it was more or less confusing when they stepped up to the table and saw none other than Billy Hargrove sitting in front of them, a sharpie in his hand and his blond hair tied up into a knot on top of his head. He had a slight beard now and more tattoos now than back in high school, in fact, he had a whole sleeve on one arm and a few standalone ones on his other arm. He was wearing a short sleeve button up, but unlike back in school, all the buttons were done up, except for the top two, exposing the pendant he still wore and just a sliver of his still golden skin. His eyes were still the same sparkling blue, but they were partially hidden behind a pair of round brown glasses. He still wore his dagger earring, but he had a few more piercings up around the shell of his ear and a stud in his nose now, too. Overall, he looked fantastic, he took Steve's breath away, but he was still completely floored that he was sitting there in front of them.
"Hi, how are yo-" Billy said, finally looking up at them and seeming to choke on the words, literally. He began to cough as his face went red, and the manager of the bookstore ran to get him a bottle of water while another employee, the dark haired man, came over to make sure everything was okay.
"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine, thanks," Billy said, waving the man off, "Just wasn't expecting to see any familiar faces today."
The manager finally returned with the water, and Billy drank it, and once he caught his breath, he finally seemed to get himself collected. At least, collected enough to turn on his charm and start acting like he hadn't just choked at the sight of two blasts from his past.
"Well well well, Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley. I never expected to see you two around here. How've you been?" He asked, motioning for Steve's books and readying his sharpie.
"Um, fine, I guess?" Robin said, "Wow, sorry, it's just a trip seeing you here. I honestly thought you were dead or something."
"Aw, I wish!" Billy joked, smiling as Steve finally handed him the books and he began to scribble in them. "But no, seriously, it's a trip to see you guys, too. I never expected to see anyone from Hawkins ever again once I moved out here. I'm not surprised you thought I was dead, I tried to bury my old self. That's why I don't let anyone take pictures and why I write under a pen name. I didn't want to be found."
"Jesus, what, are you on the run?" Robin asked, Steve still speechless beside her.
"No, just living happily by myself for once and not wanting anyone to find out and ruin it for me. I guess you guys know, but the fact that you're here means you're fans, so I don't think I need to worry too much about you posting my yearbook pictures all over Twitter as long as I ask you really nicely." He grinned, and Steve nearly lost his breath all over again.
"Well, Stevie's more of a fan than I am. It's his birthday today, so I told him we could do whatever he wants tonight and since he loves your books we ended up here, but either way, my lips are sealed." Robin said, finally stepping back and pushing Steve forward to make him interact with the other guy.
"Y-yeah, no, I wouldn't tell anyone. I mean, after all you've gone through to make sure no one knows who you really are. Like, I couldn't even find you when I googled your name, and you can find anyone on google." Steve rambled, hoping that Billy couldn't hear his heart beating practically out of his chest.
"I appreciate that," Billy said, his smile big and bright on his face. "So, how've you been, Stevie? I hear you're a huge fan. What did you think of the last one?"
"I-I loved it. 'Fence' is probably my favorite of them, but I love all your books. You're a really talented writer, I never would've thought- Wait, no, that came out wrong! Jeez, I hope I didn't offend you, I just meant that you always seemed more street smart than book smart- shit, I didn't mean that either, I just meant- Oh, hell," Steve stammered, his face going as red as Robin's t-shirt, "This is coming out all wrong, I didn't mean that, I hope I didn't just piss you off, because I really do like your books and I'm just nervous cuz it's you and you're like, the last person I expected to see here signing them. I'm so sorry!"
"Hey, calm down, Stevie Boy. It's fine, I get it. No need to be sorry for anything. And anyway, I'm the one who choked when I first saw you," Billy chuckled, finally finishing writing in the last book and capping his sharpie before he handed them back to Steve to put in his bag. "I'm glad I got to see you guys again. I think I needed some familiarity. It was starting to get a little lonely being a ghost. Hopefully I'll see you again sometime soon."
And with that, he stood up, gave them each a quick hug, and then motioned for the dark haired man to bring in the next group. Steve and Robin left through another set of screens and to the door, the both of them seemingly in a daze until they got to Robin's car.
"Well, that was... certainly something," Robin said, staring straight ahead, just like Steve, both of them still trying to wrap their heads around it.
"You can say that again. I mean, Billy fucking Hargrove? I never would've guessed in a million years." Steve said, his eyes still wide.
"Neither would I." Robin agreed.
"And to make matters worse, he was so fucking hot! Like, that was not fair for the universe to make me look like such an imbecile in from of him!" Steve ranted.
"Okay, it really wasn't that bad, you were just star-struck, I'm sure he gets that all the time. And besides, he looked happy to see us, especially you," Robin replied, then she seemed to remember something, perking up and turning to look at him. "Wait, what did he write in your books? He wrote for a long time, it couldn't have just been his signature."
Steve nodded his agreement and took the books back out of his tote, starting with the first one and flipping it open to the page that Billy had written on.
"What does it say?" Robin asked, trying to lean over to see, but she couldn't read the cursive Billy wrote in.
"It says, 'Pretty Boy, since you're a fan and you already know, here's some more tidbits you might not have guessed about...(1/4)' then his signature." Steve opened the second book, and read on, "This one says, 'First off, my pseudonym is a joke. I always liked the name Ronnie, and Fitconi is an anagram of the word 'Fiction', because it's a fake name. Clever, huh? (2/4)'. Then his signature again." He flipped open the third book, his heart pounding in his ears as he read, "This one says, 'Secondly, and probably most importantly, all my books-'"
Steve cut himself off as his heart got caught in his throat, but he swallowed as he started over, "'Secondly, and probably most importantly, all my books are about you and me, and the way I wish they'd been for us. (3/4)', and his signature again."
"Holy shit!" Robin said, practically lunging at him as she begged him to read the last one.
"And finally, this one says, 'Lastly, I'd like to see you again. Maybe I can elaborate what I mean by all this, because I really want to. Enjoy this book, and even if you don't let me know your thoughts. Don't be giving this out to people, but-'"
Steve cut himself off again and slammed the book's cover shut, his face flushing even worse than before as he hid his face in his hands.
"What?! What did it say?!" Robin demanded, her hands waving around as she got more excited.
"He gave me his fucking number!" Steve practically screamed, pulling his hands away from his face as he looked at her with a weird smile. "Then he wrote happy birthday and signed his name again! Fuck, I don't know whether to scream or to go back in there and kiss him right on the fucking mouth! This is fucking Twilight Zone levels of insanity and I don't know whether to be happy or terrified!"
"Let's go with happy for right now, he wants to see you again! And all his books are about you! That's so cool! And he wants to see you again! This is definitely a win! I think you should call him tomorrow." Robin said, trying to hype Steve up.
"I don't know..." he said, picking at his sweater sleeve, "What if I make a fool of myself again? I wouldn't even know what to talk about with him. I'd just look dumb."
"I highly doubt he would think so. He practically lit up like a light bulb when he saw you!" Robin said.
"He choked on air when he saw me." Steve deadpanned.
"Yeah, but after that, he lit up! And he told you that his books, which are all romances, are about you! Seriously, you should call him. At least once you finish the book, that way if you don't talk about anything else, you can talk about that!" Robin argued, and Steve reluctantly agreed.
He was finished with the book by that time the next day. He loved it, every word, and he knew from the beginning that it was about him, but it was honestly both weird and heart melting to read his own life (albeit with a different outcome) written down on paper. He remembered the dedication in the book, how Billy said that the happy ending he wrote for Seth and Ben was how he wished things had gone for them back in high school, and finally, Steve buckled.
He called Billy.
#steve harrington#billy hargrove#harringrove#billy hargrove x steve harrington#robin buckley#ficlet#robin is the best best friend and she and steve are too cute#i need to write about their friendship more#stranger things
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I think what's often missed in the "why can't we play with genre and not write romance with an HEA?" conversation is that a lot of people defending the HEA are heavy romance readers who are very aware of the amount of money involved, and how the authors who pop off about wanting to be able to label their non-romance books romance are in fact... thinking of money.
Not solely money, of course. And that's not meant to be a critique--I'm a writer, I'd love to write books for a living someday. Money is important. I'm all about getting money for your work, and I've never begrudged anyone for writing to market, writing to catch a trend, whatever. Sometimes it can turn out badly, but if you want to make money it does have to happen (and often writers write to market, get big, and then write what they want... see Ali Hazelwood's Bride) and as long as you are writing a good product and enjoying yourself... I don't see the issue.
BUT. Romance is extremely commercially viable, and it has been especially for the last few years (though that hype has to die down at some point, dude--and I think the shift to romantasy is probably like, the last breath of the current boom, and romance will go back to its normal levels of popularity, which are still more commercially viable than many other genres). So when people (like me) see writers going "but why CAN'T I label my love story that doesn't have an HEA 'romance?"...
I mean. We know why lol. We aren't idiots. Why is it so important that your fantasy novel is placed on the romance shelves, in the romance categories on Amazon? Is it because these authors have a deep and abiding love of romance and just want to sit with the cool kids? Is it because their hearts beat for romance, and even though they wrote something that is not a romance (the thing their hearts beat for) they just are desperate for it to be there? Is it because they are SO DEDICATED TO THE CRAFT OF WRITING and SO EDGY that they MUST change genres, they MUST break CHAINS!!!!
No lol. It's because when you write a romance, you are much more likely to be recommended by the BookTok girlies reading ACOTAR (and say what you will.... those books do by and large, I believe, have HEAs for pretty much all of the core couples). You want that Fourth Wing bread. You are more likely to have access to an audience that spends more than other audiences do. You want access to an audience that also is, let us be real, less likely to be real misogynistic about your book than certain subsets of the fantasy readership.
And the thing is--sure. A lot of readers sincerely don't care. And good for you, why did your book need to be labeled a romance the--oh, wait. I see!
But the readers who do care and spend like, anywhere from $1.99-$35.00 on your book (look dude, I'm thinking about preordering a pretty copy of the next Kerri Mansicalco, and I feel a LOT BETTER about spending that money because she specifically referencing HEA's when announcing her adult titles, and I APPRECIATE THAT A LOT ACTUALLY) only to find out that it's not the thing they expected... It doesn't follow the ONE RULE you expected it to follow because of how it was marketed...
The only time I've kinda come close to having that happen is actually when I read that book the new Anne Hathaway Harry Styles fanfic movie is based on. I was verrrry new to going back into the romance genre, and I read it expecting, based off the premise, that this was a fun, maybe a little silly, sexy book about a woman falling in love with fake Harry Styles. And she does. And guess what? At the end they rather randomly and suddenly break up.
And it kinda sucked.
It's also going to suck to see that book marketed as a romance as the movie comes out, but there you go, I've spoiled you, HORROR OF HORRORS I let you know that the thing you think is gonna be a fun little romance with a happy ending.... is not.
But yeah dude, imagine if I'd spent ACOTAR or Fourth Wing or Princes of Envy money on that book. I already felt kinda dumb for spending what was probably $8ish? It was a kindle copy. I could've gotten a fry-less sandwich with that money, back then!
So yeah. I just think that a lot of people want to be very condescendingly high-minded about PUSHING GENRE BOUNDARIES. And it's like... dude. Do you not think I would get my head bitten off if I went "well, I want to write a fantasy novel, but I don't want there to be magic... I actually want it to be revealed that everything is just run by computers the whole time, and the magical spell was actually a hologram, and I want that to be shelved and sold as fantasy"?
Yeah. Because I'm basically tricking people out of their money, lmao.
#romance novel blogging#idk it's just that there are certain STRICT ELEMENTS people buy when they invest in certain types of fiction#and the HEA is the one that people seem determined to subvert#i also think there's a lot to be said about how we think the only way we can subvert and play with genre#is by getting rid of a genre's basic rules#i mean dude i think you can play on a lot of sci-fi cliches without getting rid of the sci part
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Lil' analysis of the Rufus/ Elena scene crumbs in Rebirth
I'm doing this for fun but organize my thoughts and keep tracks of things I've noticed about them while also giving some food for thoughts if there's people interested in that ship.
Here's i'm gonna analyze the scenes.
I will later write about design & symbolism , their arcs, their personnalities, relationship & how they perceive each other ,what Rebirth add to the rest of the compilation as well what road can we can potentially expect for the story of Rufus & the Turks in part 3 in general.
The Mythril Mines scene:
Here, we get get a great way to establish her character. Elena is the one who is curious and asks questions while the others try to not think about their orders much. As someone new, she also has an unique POV as the mysteries unfold in front of her.
It's also a great way to show that her superiors don't tell her everything, which may cause problem in the future as Elena is a self-righteous & rather independant person who sometime disobey orders.
They also did a great job showcasing her ruthless side & also sublty hint what drives her.
The helicopter scene en-route for the Gold Saucer with Palmer:
Here, Elena is shown being not scared to use Rufus' authority to shut up a member of the Board.
Despite the space program being shut down, we still have to remember that Elena is a new employee & that Palmer is her senior by decades & used to be a friend of Rufus' father. Despite the hierarchical difference, Elena's is pretty assertive for a new employee & doesn't hesitate to borrow Rufus' authority to have Palmer stop complaining & contesting Rufus' decision to send him there in a sassy manner.
The Gongaga proto-relic sidequest:
After you're done with one of the Gongaga VR mission in the Turks facility, Elena is shown without hesitation ushering Rufus & him acknowledging her. We see that she's not scared of him & both of seem to have a respectful & cordial relationship.
I noted the interesting composition of the shot tho.
First, they didn't have to animate this. They could just had have Rufus says his line about the player performance & then leave. But they still wanted to showcase that little moment between the two of them for some reason.
Second, the way the camera zoom-in on them while putting Rude on the foreground but almost push him out of the frame as he's watching them, as if the devs really want you to pay attention to that interaction.
Third, Elena is the rookie. Thus the one who should address Rufus directly should be her seniors. However, Rufus & Elena address each other directly, with the latter talking to him confidently.
This also happens right after we see Rufus complaining about Tseng wanting to assign him bodyguards & saying he didn't need any so you would expect he would be annoyed that the babiest Turk would try to usher him away or have him ignore her. We saw how he can get with Heidegger in Remake not calling him "Mr.President".
But he doesn't.
Fourth, it's clear here there was a whole switcheroos between roles due to Reno's jpn VA passing away.
In this mission, Rude & Elena address you as if you were Reno (Rude call you partner & Elena reffer to you as "senpaï" .
Reno however, already has a lot of experiences after all this years working for the Turks. My guess is that originally, those VR missions were destined to Elena.
It makes more sense, to prepare her to what the Turks' life is. VR Rufus is also already president too.
If you do well during that mission, Rufus is willing to offer you whatever you want. Would that mean he made such proposition to Elena at one point? (is this how she got her pink gun which has strangely a white belt on & black buttons & is studed with diamonds?)
The flight to the Gold Saucer with Rufus:
During that scene, we're shown that Elena is curious & independant, making her a great intelligence officer material. The second she learns about the Promised Land, she decide to study the subject in the hopes to understand it better & the significance for Shinra. She then admit that it was actually a good idea to let Aerith run around so they can follow her.
It immediately switch from her to Darkstar waking up & curiously looking at Rufus. People who played the game in english however may have missed out an interesting audio detail: In the japanese dub, you can understand the reason why Darkstar woke up as you can hear Rufus do his signature (satisfied) "hmph" and him chuckling to himself while looking at window. It's even more audible in the french version as well.
D waking up & looking at Rufus curiously make it feel like it's an unusual occurence.
Maybe he's just thinking about something & laugh to himself but it's also likely the game is implying Rufus was silently listening to her.
It's interesting because he is rarely framed that way. Most of the time he's the center of the room & the conversation, leading it. He addresses his employees & doesn't give more info than what's necessary. Even with Tseng, he often has his back to him & only turn around when he needs to make a point or when something intrigue him.
Added to that, letting Aerith go to follow her was Rufus' plan. Elena basically indirectly complimented him, which could be the reason why he's chuckling to himself. We never got to see him reacting this way to someone until now. For comparison, Heidegger compliment him when he decide to fire Sister Ray during chapter 4 & he didn't get any reaction from Rufus.
But he's seemingly happy to get Elena's approval?
The chapter 12 tussle & rumble with Elena, Rude & Rufus.
For a start, we have to talk about how stupid this plan is as the Turks & Rufus could have just stolen the keystone, either by using Rufus'authority or burglarize the place while Dio & Avalanche were looking away. Rufus didn't also have to be there. Shinra is on the brink of a war but he instead decide to go on a trip ( it probably took a least 1 or 2 days for them to go from Midgar & reach the GS) I may have my speculations on why he's acting this way tho.
Rude, Elena & Rufus have beef with Avalanche so we can assume they went with that plan to settle their grudge by beating the shit of each other.
However, the plan at first seemed to be for only Rude & Elena to fight, not Rufus. During the battle, you can hear Rufus calling Dio. It's a scripted event that only happen when you stagger Rude or Elena during the second phase of the combat (and there's chances it is Elena due to her weaker constitution). Did Rufus get protective of the Turks, which is what pushed him to suddenly participate?
Then there's the scene where he appears in the arena. While the duel between Cloud & Rufus is the main event, it's interesting to note we just have a quick zoom out on Cloud's face to show his reaction while it lingers more on the Turks & in particular Elena. There's a quick scene where Tseng calm down an excited & likely worried for his master, D. Then it switch to Elena asking what he's doing. Rufus notice her as his head turns toward her.
Elena is the most on focus while Rude in the background is blurred.
And we get this kind of smile from Rufus who's still looking at her while waving to the public. He looks softer than usual.
Then his face immediately switch to this when he turns to Cloud.
He answering her by making a show of himself.
And then it's switch again to an annoyed & worried Elena. Once again, she's the point of focus while Rude is blurred.
Rufus then tell them to go join Tseng. And here we can see that he's addressing Elena (when he should address Rude) directly as his eyes are turned toward her & then turns back to Cloud while Elena can't help herself but emit a defeated sigh.
Here we're seeing that she stays herself around Rufus, trying to contest his decisions & everything. Not scared of him & not scared to show her annoyance at her boss' dumbass behavior.
Added to that, Cloud is seen asking the two party members who fought with him until now to leave him for that 1 on 1 fight. One of these two party members always turns out to be one of his love interests.
Once again, we're shown he actually pays attention to Elena, thought Rebirth is actually not the only time this happens.
That whole exchange remind me of that moment between Reno & Rude in TKAA:
Which could explain as well Rude's reaction to Cloud being like "oh, poor you!" when Rufus is revealed to be alive in Advent Children.
The game weigh even more on the idea that Rufus is emotionnally immature and insecure.
Like Evan.
And Rufus' attitude is pretty Evan like in the way he takes risks while Elena is often compared to Kyrie by the fandom. Elena & Kyrie are fierce, morally ambiguous women who cause trouble to their group but also can be shown to be level-headed at times. Kyrie also chide & tries to confront Evan about his reckless side. Both of them could almost be considered as darker versions of these two characters.
If the brothers have similar tastes in term of potential partners, well…
I think it's also interesting to note that Rufus is far more pissed about losing than during the first duel in Remake, added with Cloud poking at his insecurities.
The departure to the temple of the ancients:
This is a really interesting scene as it's a great way to show the group dynamic & Elena's potential importance after the company's crumble post- Meteorfall.
Here, Elena is shown openly critisizing Rufus' decision to send them & a nice chunk of the army to the Temple of the Ancients, knowing the risks.
Rude, Reno & Tseng are shown being fine going along with whatever orders Rufus give them while Elena has her doubts & interrogations and rightfully so. Sending so many people there is a reckless move & she ended up being proven right. ( I could go on a tangent on how Elena could be a great partner to him due to the way she questions things. There's a difference between loyalty & sycophanty. And from the first scene with the Board or even Sister ray, what he needs is loyal people with enough backbone to challenge & give him the right advices. Which is what Elena represents)
However this were my beef with the english localization is coming in & how people who rely on it may have missed some nuances to the whole exchange:
In the eng version, she goes on how Rufus accompagnying the expedition is a bad idea but on brand with his character.
However in the jpn & french localization when Rude tells her Rufus is coming with them, Elena ask what he means & Reno says it's expected of him/it's not surprising. Elena says it's dangerous but that also that she doesn't dislike Rufus' decision to come with them, which is peak tsundere attitude.
While I think her eng VA did a great job overall, the direction also constantly make her sounds aggressive, even during moments when she's not.
So yeah the first version is just a statement on Rufus' behavior.
The second version give nuance on how Elena perceive Rufus. Yes, it's dangerous for him to do that but it also help her settle down a bit. She likes the fact he is participating in this.
It's also a great way to show why he has so much sway with the Turks, as Reno, Rude & Elena enjoy some of thrills that come with the job and Rufus is the same.
The compilation always frustrated me with the way their relationship has interesting tidbits but was often glossed over.
I was surprised with the way Rebirth depicted these two as I considered myself lucky if we actually got them together in the same frame but we instead got a few interactions & them reacting to each other in a way that is pretty informative about their own characters but also how their dynamic would work.
It's pretty close of the interpretation I had always had for Ruiri/Rulena/Rufena: the type of ship that belong in the power couple category, similar opposites who challenge each other in a way that support them due to their strong personnalities & position while navigating thru their professional & personnal life with a fun dynamic to boot.
#cb's rambling#rufus shinra#elena ff7#elena#elena of the turks#ff7 rebirth#ff7 rebirth spoilers#ff7r spoilers#ruiri#rufena#rulena
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That Sense of Passion and Anger (Part 4)
Pairing - Max Verstappen x Reader x Daniel Ricciardo
Word Count - 3.3k
Content Warning - Swearing, Oral sex, alcohol mention, angst, sexism mention, Christian H*rner
Synopsis - After kissing Daniel, the reader finds herself in a new position with her closest friend, but is pulled back to business when called to a meeting with the PR team, Horner and Max.
Tag List - @vinvantae @ujisworld @heyitskay-21 @starjane312 @callmequeenbeee @thatonesexycancerian @dr3lover @compulsiveshit @fromthedeskofjoii @iamasimpingh0e
Author’s Note - Look at me posting two chapters in as many days! Anyway, it’s time for sexy times with Daniel and angst time with Max (again) whoopsie! This is also going to be the last chapter that is the same no matter which path you choose. I originally had only planned a Max ending, but I couldn’t stand to see Daniel left out so I’m going to write multiple endings, I have at least three and I’m toying with a fourth one too, so you can pick one or read them all! As always, I hope you enjoy this one!
Previously on ‘That Sense of Passion and Anger’…
And that’s why, in that moment, as his fingers gently held your face, and the pad of his thumb wiped away the tears which breached your eyes and fell down your cheek, you kissed him.
It was only for a second, but you instantly felt all your worries disappear as your lips connected, almost as if Daniel was absorbing your fear, your stress, your anger. Somehow, despite nothing having actually changed in the shit show you called a life, you felt instantly better.
You pull away to see a look of complete shock and bewilderment on Daniel’s face. ‘Oh shit, did I just cock everything up?’ You can’t help but think to yourself.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did that, I just…” You begin, failing to find the right words to say, settling instead for an awkward laugh as you play with the hem of your robe.
“It’s okay, I mean, you can do it again, if you want to, that is.” Daniel says, and your eyes shoot upwards to make contact with his.
“Would you like me to?” You ask, pushing a strand of still damp hair out of your eyes.
“Fuck it.” He mumbles, before claiming your lips with his own. The kiss was sweet, loving, romantic even. Nothing like the rough and passionate ones you had shared with Max in the days before. It was exactly what you needed.
“Whatever happens now, just promise me something?” You ask breathlessly and Daniel hums in response, “promise me our friendship will still be the same. You mean the absolute world to me and I couldn’t stand to lose you.”
“I promise, whatever we choose to do now, whether we order an obscene number of pancakes and watch trashy reality TV together, or we make sweet sweet love, our friendship won’t change one bit. You mean the world to me too.” Daniel responds, and you can’t help but smile at him. A proper, genuine smile. Not a smile made for the cameras, or PR guys, or any other fake nonsense. A real, happy smile.
“How about we do the second one, and then the first one afterwards?” You say as you stand from your position on the floor and throw yourself onto the bed, beckoning him with your index finger.
“Sounds like a plan,” Daniel responds, before jumping onto the bed beside you, gripping your sides and tickling you, a gleeful expression on his face.
“Ah, stop, you know I hate being tickled!” You exclaim from beneath him, struggling to hold back your fits of laughter.
“What’s the safe word?” He asks, raising his eyebrow at you.
“The safe word is, I’m gonna kick you in the bollocks if you don’t stop,” You respond in laughter.
“Ooh kinky!” He says, and you slap him playfully on the arm as he settles down beside you on the bed, “you know, that’s quite a mouthful for a safe word, I was thinking something more along the lines of pineapple? Or grapes? Something food themed, I don’t know I haven’t had breakfast yet it’s all I can think about.”
“So you’re thinking about breakfast instead of me? How rude!” You say, adjusting your position so that you’re on top of him, straddling his lap.
“I’m thinking that you would make a pretty delicious breakfast. How do you taste?” Daniel says, his hands on your thighs moving closer and closer to your pussy, already wet and aching for his touch.
“Why don’t you give it a try, hm?” You say, brushing your hand across his abs beneath his shirt.
Without warning, his hands grip your waist tightly, allowing him to swiftly reverse your positions so that you are lying beneath him on the bed. You giggle as his hands travel down your thighs, the sensation of his warm fingers on your skin electric. He positions himself between your open legs, running his hands up to push away your robe to reveal your already soaked panties, dipping his head down to lick a stripe up the wet fabric. The sensation was unreal, and you found yourself squirming under his touch, your hips bucking against his face to bring him closer.
“Desperate are we?” He teases, his lips still pressed against you allowing you to feel the vibration of every word.
“Don’t be a fucking tease,” You groan, arching your back off of the bed to bring yourself closer to him.
“Don’t you worry babe, all I care about is making you feel good,” Daniel responds, the vibrations of his voice driving you crazy.
Daniel tucks his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties and slowly pulls them down, leaving you bare besides your robe, which had at some point fallen undone, revealing your bare chest which had previously been hidden beneath.
“You sure?” He asks, raising his head to look across to you on the bed.
“Hm, make me feel good Dan,” you respond, and with that, he dips his head once again, caressing your wet, aching folds with his tongue.
Daniel’s grip on your things intensifies as he pulls you closer into his face, burying his mouth and nose in your pussy, eating you out like a starved animal. His nose presses against your clit as his tongue teases your hole, and you find yourself moaning sounds of encouragement, unable to even form words as you collapse into pure pleasure.
“Fuck, babe, you taste so good,” Daniel says, and you groan in response.
In that moment, all you could think about was him. All the shit that had happened with the photo, with Max, happened to someone else, not you. You existed only there, in that moment, to feel pleasure and nothing more, completely at the mercy of your closest friend and confidant as he fucks you with his mouth.
Daniel grazes your clit with his teeth and you are snapped out of your trance, your back arching at the sensation as his tongue toys with the sensitive bundle of nerves.
“Fuck Daniel!” You exclaim in a breathy voice, the words slipping from your mouth before you can stop them. You feel him chuckle against you, your words only spurring him on as he continues to lick and suck every part of you.
You feel yourself edging closer and closer to your undoing as his lips suck your clit, his grip on one of your legs loosening as he slips a finger inside of you. The surprise sensation catches you off guard, and a pornographic moan falls from your lips. At that, he adds another finger, curling them both inside of you, driving you ever closer to orgasm.
“Fuck” You utter, your voice barely above a whisper.
“That’s right, cum for me baby, let go,” Daniel speaks into you, and you reach your climax, tightening against his fingers as your orgasm rips through your body, a series of weak moans escaping your lips.
You feel your body go limp as you collapse onto the bed, a blissed out expression of pure ecstasy on your face. Daniel removes his fingers and throws himself down beside you on the bed, turning inwards to face you. You open your eyes and slowly roll over to face him, your faces practically touching as he brings his fingers up to his mouth and sucks them clean.
“Did you enjoy your breakfast?” You whisper, a tired smirk appearing on your lips.
“Divine,” He responds, before pulling you into a tight hug.
You lay there for a while, his presence calming as you steady your breathing and come down from your orgasm.
“So, you wanna talk about it?” Daniel asks, and you nod sheepishly.
You tell him about your dinner, the flirting, the mind blowing sex the night before, and the tender moments you and Max had shared that morning in the shower. Everything that had happened before your world went to shit.
“I’m so sorry, (Y/N), I genuinely don’t know what to say. I’m just so fucking sorry.” He says, pulling your head into his neck as you sob, your body shaking as you cry.
All too soon, you are interrupted as your phone rings on the counter. Daniel removes his arms from your body and you immediately miss his touch as he jumps up from the bed and grabs your phone.
“It’s Horner, I think you should probably answer this one babe,” He says, passing you the phone.
“Yeah, I probably should. Time to face the music.” You sigh, inhaling deeply to rid your body of its tears, accepting the call and pressing the phone to your ear.
“(Y/N) where have you been? We’re having an emergency meeting with the PR team in five minutes, conference room B, get down here, now.” Christian says before immediately hanging up, a sense of exasperation in his voice.
You throw the phone onto the bed and sigh, fastening your robe once again before pulling your knees up to your chest in comfort.
“Meeting?” Daniel asks, perching beside you on the bed.
“Yeah, I should get ready. Fuck Dan I don’t wanna do this, I don’t want to get yelled at, or punished, or shamed, and God, I don’t wanna see Max again,” You say, resting your head back against the headboard, your eyes squeezed shut.
“I know babe, but you’ll get through this, I promise you,” he says, resting his hand on your shoulder, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
“I hope so, fuck, why did I have to complicate things? Why couldn’t we have just kept on hating each other?”
“Hey, he was the one who came to you that night, not the other way around. None of this is your fault, remember that. And Max, fuck, I don’t know. I just, I don’t think those were his words. I’m no Max expert, but I know him pretty well, and I don’t think he’s that much of an asshole that he’d do that to you.” Daniel says, his thumb gently stroking your exposed collar bone.
“Well, whatever happened, I’m fucking done. I’m gonna go down there, take my punishment, and try my fucking hardest to not punch Verstappen, or Horner, in the fucking jaw,” You say, suddenly jumping from your position on the bed to grab your discarded Red Bull polo and Jeans that were hanging on the back of a chair.
“That’s my girl,” Daniel says, chuckling as you retrieve your underwear from the floor before disappearing into the bathroom.
The PR meeting was everything you had thought it would be. Those in charge of damage control had managed to convince the fans that your little dinner date with Max had been arranged by Horner to try and reconcile the two of you after your heated exchange that weekend. The photo had simply been taken at an unfortunate moment in which the two of you were simply joking around, despite many fan theories suggesting that you were actually trying to kick him in the bollocks, which, quite frankly, you were considering.
Max sat in the corner of the room as Horner yelled at you, not saying a word, looking like a sullen teenager who had just been sent to his room.
“What the fuck were you doing? He doesn’t need any distractions, and neither do you. This is your first and final warning, If you keep doing things like this, giving us a bad reputation, then you’ll be lucky to have a seat anywhere next season, never mind here.” Christian shouts, an emotionless look on your face hiding the true seething anger rising deep within you.
“And Max?” You ask, unable to hold back your curiosity as to why he was not also on the receiving end of a verbal beatdown as you were.
“I’m sorry?” Christian responds, circling your chair, a look of bewilderment on his face.
“It takes two to tango, as they say, he’s just as guilty as I am and yet I seem to be the only one getting this final warning.” You say, trying to control your volume, but every nerve in your body was on fire, desperate to let go and yell louder than you ever had before. Screw taking your punishment, if you were going out, you were going to go out fighting. Max glances up at you for the first time since you had entered the room, and you make eye contact with him, his expression cryptically hidden behind an emotionless straight face.
“Max has proved himself worthy of controversy, you, on the other hand, have not. We have dozens of talented drivers desperate for a seat, and right now you’re very replaceable.” Christian says, and you stand up from your seat, coming face to face with the older man.
“Bullshit,” You hear from the corner of the room, and you snap your head over to where Max is still sat, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.
“Max?” Christian says, and Max stands from his seat, walking over to the two of you. You glance around the room, watching at the various team members exchange anxious looks with one another, unsure of just what is about to go down.
“I’m sorry, but that’s bullshit. (Y/N) has more than proved herself already this season, she can’t help that this one is her first. All we did was have dinner, right? What’s so controversial about that?” Max says, and you shoot him a fiery glance.
“I don’t need you to defend me Max, I’m done. If this is my first and last season I genuinely don’t give a fuck anymore. This place, this sport, is toxic. It’s rotten. It’s hard enough for anyone new, but I’m the only woman on the grid, I get enough shit as it is. Never mind all this frankly sexist speculation and media attention. And if my own team, and my teammate, are gonna treat me like shit then I don’t wanna be here anymore. I’m done.” You yell, your hands squeezed by your sides so tight your knuckles are white.
Christian and Max look at you in shock, and as you make your way to the door, you finally feel free, a sense of ease washes through your body.
“(Y/N), don’t you dare walk away from me,” Christian shouts, and you can’t help but chuckle.
“You’re not my dad, leave me the fuck alone,” You shout, before disappearing through the door, slamming it behind you.
Maybe it was childish, like a teenager arguing with her parents because she got caught with a boy, but you didn’t care. Christian treated you like a child, someone he could control, and you were done, and perhaps free. He still had his golden boy, and that was all that mattered.
You sat at the hotel bar, sipping on your third scotch on the rocks, when you hear footsteps behind you. You feel a presence beside you, and turn your head to see Max sat beside you.
“I thought you wanted me to leave you the fuck alone, hm?” You say, before downing the rest of your drink.
“Forget that, okay. I’ve never seen anyone do that before. Stand up to Horner like that, I mean,” Max says, nodding to the bartender to pour two more drinks for the both of you.
“Well, I don’t wanna be here anymore, so I figured I may as well tell him what I really think while I still have the chance,” You say, looking down at your empty glass, unable to look Max in the eye.
“You were amazing,” He says, and you scoff.
“Sure, whatever, I know you like ‘em angry. Not gonna fuck you this time though, sorry,” You laugh.
“I- look, (Y/N), I need to apologise, again.” Max says awkwardly, and you snap your head over to face him.
“For what? For sharing such a sweet tender moment with me this morning, promising we’d get on better from now on, and try and be friends or whatever else, and then fifteen minutes later telling me you want me to stay the fuck away? Fuck off Max, really, do you think that’s something you can just apologise for? No, you made me feel like shit, worse than shit, worthless. Completely fucking worthless. If it wasn’t for Daniel scraping me up off the carpet who knows what kind of state I’d be in right now. I was obviously mistaken when I thought we actually had something that could have been good, just a dumb fucking idiot who tried to see the best in someone who had only shown me his very worst. Fuck that, and fuck you,” You spit, venom in your every word.
The bartender returns with two more drinks, and you swiftly down your in one before standing from the barstool and walking away.
“(Y/N), wait, please, just let me explain,” Max shouts after you, and you stop in your path, choosing not to turn around.
“I’m listening,” You say, tapping your foot against the marble floor to indicate your impatience.
“It was my dad. I got back to my room and checked my phone, I had like a million miscalls. I called him and he’d seen the photos and he was pissed. So fucking pissed. He got to me, I guess, and I just did what he wanted me to do without thinking. I wish I hadn’t, I really wish I’d have just thought. I’m the dumb fucking idiot, not you, because I just do whatever daddy tells me to without thinking about what I want. It’s you. I want you. Fuck my dad, fuck Horner, I want you, (Y/N) please, I’m sorry,” Max says, and you turn to face him.
For the first time since his earlier outburst, you found yourself not wanting to punch Max, which confused you. Sure, his explanation had made sense, as Daniel had said earlier, they weren’t his words, but his Father’s. But still, the way he had made you feel? You should still be angry, and yet, you weren’t. You wished it wasn’t true, but it was the only possible explanation - you wanted him too.
“I don’t understand how I feel right now Max, I need time to sort my head out. I just- I know I can’t do this now. I’m sorry,” You say, fighting back tears which threatened to escape your eyes.
“(Y/N)” He says, and he reaches forward to gently tap your hand with his own. Your white-knuckled fist drops at his touch, and you sigh.
“I need time, I’m sorry,” You say, before turning away once again to walk away.
“Is it Daniel? Are you and him- I don’t want to pry just- please, do I even have a chance?” Max asks, and you turn around to face him once again, walking right up to him so that your bodies are practically touching one another.
“When you abandoned me this morning, and left me crying on the floor, he held me close, wiped away my tears, and then…” You say, your voice barely audible to avoid the prying ears of strangers.
“I see” Max says, the dejection evident in his tone.
“But that doesn’t mean- I don’t know what it means, just, I need time, okay?” You say, before walking away once again, disappearing into the elevator. You make eye contact with Max as you turn to face the doors, and you could swear you saw tears pricking the corner of his eyes as he looks at you before the doors close.
#Daniel ricciardo x reader#daniel ricciardo x you#max verstappen x reader#Max verstappen x you#f1 x reader#f1 x you#Daniel ricciardo x reader x max verstappen#Daniel ricciardo x you x max verstappen
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can I request a STARS wesker with a new rookie? but the rookie is stubborn/ready to get out into the field. if you're able too!! thank you very much and have a good day 💖💓
AHHH YES! I loved this idea! I hope you enjoy <3.
PAIRING: S.T.A.R.S!Wesker x Stubborn!Gn!Reader
Genre: Idk 😭
Warnings: Mention of death and fighting.
(Authors note: This took me like 3 months to write 😭. I’m so sorry I’ve been so tired and I’ve been working a lot, aha. Apologies is this is horrible. Enjoy <3.)
“Shit!”
You were caught by surprise as Chris uppercut you. “We’ll keep training another day, your getting better rookie!” Chris waved at you as he was about to leave. “Wait! How come your leaving so early? We’ve got another hour.” You began packing your belongings then looked at him for an answer. “Captains sending us out on a mission, it’s a high level one. That most likely the reason your not coming, sorry rookie, catch you later.” He smiled and waved then left, walking into the long empty hallway before disappearing around a corner. You packed your thing hurriedly and then headed to the woman’s locker room. You spotted Jill and Rebecca readying their guns and fixing their uniforms. “You guys are leaving too? I swear the captain has it out for me.” You remark as you open your locker and set your bag in it. Then beginning to change out of your training clothes into your own uniform.
“What do you mean?” Rebbeca asked, she was putting her vest on. “All of you guys get to go out on missions and I have to stay here. This is the fourth time!” You sat down against one of your lockers and slumping over after changing into your usual uniform. “Why not talk to him?” You look up at Jill and she’s looking at you waiting for an anwsers. “You thinks he’s gonna listen to me? Jill this is Wekser we’re talking about.” You get yourself up and look at her with an eyebrow raised. “Well things won’t change if you don’t do anything about it.” Rebecca says as she opens the door, waiting for Jill to exit with her. “She’s right, catch ya later Y/N.” Jill says with that signature smile on her face and they both leave you to your thought. You shower for a bit then you decide that their right.
You take a deep breath in front of Wesker’s door and after a bit of self prep you knock. “Enter.” You hear that deep, monotone voice and suddenly your nervous all over again. You open the door and Weskers sitting there looking over files, he then puts the papers down and looks at you. Although he’s wearing those dark sunglasses you can feel his gaze piercing you. “Sir, I’ve been here for at least 3 months now and I still haven’t went on a mission! Please let me go into this one with the team.” You had a determined face and your voice sounded a bit demanding. “You need to train more, whatever you trained for before in the academy won’t fully prepare you for what’s out their when it comes to misson a. Your dismissed.” He waved you off and goes back to reading the file he had been looking at before you entered.
That had been your last straw.
“I’m not taking no for an answer Captain. I respect you but to be honest I’m getting fucking tired of this. You make me sit around and treat me like the office pet while the others get to do their actual job. I came into S.T.A.R.S to be able to help people, not sit around and clean and put things up. So, it’s either I’m on this fucking mission or I quit.” You had furrowed your eyebrows then crossed your arms. Wesker seemed to be a bit taken back, you assumed no one’s ever spoken to him like that. He was contemplating. Staring at you and clenching his jaw, something he did while he was processing a thought. You looked down at your feet suddenly feeling embarrassed. After a few seconds you hear a “Fine.” You whip your head up and open your mouth as you were about to say something but he cuts you off. “But, you stay with my the entire time. I don’t need to drag your body back.” You smile and try to contain your excitement, “Yes sir, thank you.”
You walk out of his office then run to the locker room and gear up. You then arrive at the helicopter and everyone looks at you, seeming surprised. “I told you.” Rebecca says with that determined smile she usually had. “He actually let you come? Ha, how’d you manage that?” Barry asked, he was eating a few gummies, which was typical before mission’s. “I have my ways.” You smiled mischievously at him, Weskers then came ip and told you all to get ready so you all board and head off to the mission.
It went well, and you were about to head back inside after exiting the helicopter but then Wesker pulls you to the side. “You’ll be coming on missions with us now, well done.” He then walks inside and you smile and walk in behind him.
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I hope that was somewhat enjoyable <3. Have an amazing day/night loves. 🫶🏻
#resident evil#resident evil fandom#resident evil fic#albert wesker#albert wesker dbd#albert wesker x reader#ask#jill valentine#chris redfield#barry burton#resident evil x you#resident evil chris
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Y’all know that new unVeiled about the Katharsys Music Festival that got posted to the wiki??? I squealed when Vanguard was mentioned (middle of English class smh smh) but also. Think about them. (I made a random decision and my 6500 child is now nonbinary btw use whatever pronouns you like for them they have days where they feel more boy and days they feel more girl and days they are an agent of chaos, do not bother them in their machinations.) I really like that the festival is called Katharsys, I’m not sure if it was intentional but it sounds like catharsis??? which is just fun.
And then Ira and Matti both sitting in on the fourth festival in person like we are here to supervise and ARREST SOME FUCKIN PARACRIMINALS and do either of them care about the kickass music?? of course not Ira had fucking headphones on.
And then there’s Vanguard. Why do you want to go with your crowd control contingent in person good sir ma’am mixer?? Yeah there are PEOPLE THERE and this guy needs human touch and exchange and conversation or their little extroverted ass will get so sad and I want to pinch their cheeks again so BADLY help I need to draw them sneaking snacks on duty I just wanna pinch their cheeks helpppppppppppppp
I just wanna pinch a boi’s cheeks okay??? Look at that. Face. LOOK AT IT
Okay anyway come on dude we know you just want to vibe. How do. How do the pataphysicists stop y’all from ascending to a higher narrative level. Just curious. Esterberg and Eurtec are kinda both there in person ofc so is Lighthouse-120 (Vanguard’s mother!! not Ira she’s a hater /hj) they’re vibing too it’s probably really awkward between Esterberg and Eurtec dirty dirty Coalition girl except they’re also making Illicit Deals. I’m trying to figure out how exactly the Blood and Gold districts work for Eurtec, does Blood have a subavatar??? In any case Esterberg’s way more chill with Blood. She’d beat up Gold. Matti probably beats Eurtec tbh not gonna lie ma’am don’t act like you’re not the Powers That Be in a cyberpunk dystopia although considering everyone’s watching you now it’s probably a bit less dystopia and a bit more cyberpunk but still, y’ain’t exactly being a very good mother there with those enforcers and all f you f you.
I want to think more about Matti beating Eurtec at some point WHY IS THERE SO LITTLE LORE ON EURTEC IM SO SAD AHSID)MASJIDSNAKSKSMM I WANT TO DRAW HER LIKE MINTAII CLAD IN GOLD JEWELRY AND RAGS AND BARELY STANDING UPRIGHT BUT COALITION’S GOLDEN CHILD AS LONG AS YOU CAN’T SEE HER LEGS EURTEC EURTEC EURTEC
But yes Esterberg is on her home territory and she could not be happier. Katharsys is one hell of a blood transfusion. She does some shit with the password system maybe makes it silly or something
no Eurtec we do not talk about what happened with the f I f t h Katharsys. There’s a big starfish shaped dent in one of her prosthetics
wait apparently the seventh Katharsys is supposed to happen this year why does the publishing date say 2028?? AUTHOR
I also think 3Ports and some others will be there bc Tattle Antlers and stuff and also because it’s an opportunity for them to Gather Together And Vibe as personifs. Vanguard will congratulate Ports on that one time she whacked Ira over the head with a protest sign (Anderson. Also Esterberg has that picture framed on her wall)
WAIT SHIT HAVE I EVER MENTIONED THAT 120 LIVED WITH ESTERBERG FOR A BIT?? like those two oddest roommates of all time. Weird little upstart Site and 1000 year old city whose mother is the remnants of the *good* Fae queen.
also also also there are still spiderweb cracks on Esterberg’s body from Ira flushing most of the Fae up a chimney (4000, Ralliston’s Proposal) and Katharsys helps with that. I think. The cracks melded back stronger but they’re still scars damnit
#child abuse mention#scp foundation#I would be sorry to the other authors if they ever found the single Vanguard fanatic on tumblr and realized#I talk Like This#but cringe is dead#and we are free#no return vanguard#the boy of scp 6500’s better timeline#Christ I gotta update that tag#personifposting#NTJ#I’m sorry but I do talk like this irl
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this whole post will be about colby and the tarot reading i did on him. i figured i would separate the readings into snc, sam, and then colby just bc i have so much to say.
so if you wanna know what colby's gonna be going thru and his love life… read on.
disclaimer: i understand there are ppl/fans that do tarot readings and personally don't believe that you can do a reading on someone that didn't a) agree to one or b) isn't there with you. and while i understand that, i just need everyone to know that this is just for fun. i go into with all the positivity, and this is really just for me in the end. i never claim to be right, i'm not pretending that this is the truth. this is just for entertainment purposes only. if you don't like it, feel free to not read. please take whatever i say in this post with a grain of salt.
(the other readings will linked at the bottom)
please go read snc's reading first to get an understanding of the cards/deck i used.
i asked about colby and how he's doing rn. what's very interesting to me is that a lot of the cards i got for him were major arcana cards. so what i interpret that as - colby's about to go on a big journey himself. a lot of change is coming his way, in a major way. however, i don't see anything bad happening to him in case you're nervous. i more see it as colby might actually start putting his foot down when it comes to certain aspects of his life that he's let slide for a long time.
also hilariously this will relate to the first card, but i got so many cards for colby. sam i had to really pry to some degree to get anything to pop out. colby was like an open book.
the first card: shadow. major arcana, related to the moon. one of the things this card notes is that right now your psychic sensitivities might be too open bc they are so strong, so you might want to dial it back a bit. and that really lines up with colby. this card talks about emotionally feeling a lot, and how a lot in your life has changed. this is the time to explore the dark sides of yourself, the things you've ignored for a while. but there is a light at the end of the tunnel. it's not all bad. things are changing, but there is hope on the horizon.
second card: foundation and achievements. got this card in snc's reading. peace is finally gonna come in colby's life after all of the hectic shit he's gone thru. good things are coming his way, and this is the time to celebrate that.
third card: authority. this is a major arcana card, related to the emperor card. this came up in sam's reading. i feel like this card, especially the way it's described in the booklet, is a representation of sam. sam is the logical one, according to colby himself. and i think colby relies on sam a lot when things aren't going well for him. so i think this will be a time where colby might rely on sam or ask him for help on something. i think they both lean on each other when things get rough and i think this is just a sign of that. i think this might also be when both of them are going thru something that they need to solve together. i'm not sure what that could be, but i don't see it being super major.
fourth card: balance. major arcana, related to justice. this card is interesting to me. this is a call to colby to change things up. that there is something in his life that is throwing his life off balance. he needs to remove something from his current life to make things even again. i'm not entirely sure what that could be, but the booklet gives an idea of cutting ppl out or changing career paths. it could be that colby needs to cut certain characters out of his life to have peace, it could be he needs to changes some habits he has. regardless, something needs to change or his life will continue to feel uneven.
fifth card: power. major arcana, similar to strength. this card is letting colby know that while he's going thru a lot, he has the strength - both inner and externally - to get thru anything that is in his way. it might not feel like it at times, but don't doubt your abilities. you can make it thru, you just gotta keep pushing.
sixth card: truth. major arcana, related to judgement. it's interesting that this card is similar to balance. colby needs to make a change. this is the call to do that immediately. to pause and look back on the past and really see what needs to get gone. but it also calls for haste and to not do anything too crazy. this is about a spiritual awakening, that truth will finally come to light. so while balance was telling him "hey, something here is off." this card is saying "here is what was off."
seventh card: sacrifice. major arcana, related to the hanged man. this card represents changes coming to colby's life. again, this one is about cutting things out. this is more about reflection tho. basically looking around and reflecting on what you have removed, or maybe what still needs to be let go.
eigth card: fulfillment of wishes. this card appeared earlier in sam's reading. this is a great card to have, especially after everything that came before. basically, this card signifies that all of the sacrifice and changes colby had to make are now steering him in the right direction and good things are coming his way. all the things he wants will be coming towards him bc he made the changes that were necessary.
ninth card: financial and material changes. this card also appeared in sam's reading. again, i don't see it as a major loss for snc or colby specifically. it kinda just feels like maybe a bad business dealing or a project falling thru that they invested in. not entirely sure. but there will be a loss of some form dealing with money.
final card: universe. major arcana, similar to the world. great card to get. it's basically saying that universe is on colby's side. good things will continue to happen to him as long as he continues to keep going and tapping into all of his abilities.
overall for colby, when i was reading thru these cards i got this feeling that while obviously major things are going to be happening in his life, i feel like colby is going to go thru some big emotional changes. granted, i don't know for certain so take what i say lightly. but something colby mentioned during a livestream is that he very casually explained to fans that he doesn't really know if he allowed himself to feel and truly realize his cancer diagnosis (something i mentioned in snc's reading). and i think that is completely insane, but not for colby. while colby has talked about being emotional, but also being emotionally held back, i think the major overarching issue is that he doesn't allow himself to let it all out. he keeps a lot of things bottled for one reason or another. as someone that used to do things like that (and still does from time to time), all that holding in does is eat you alive. you think in your head it would be easier to keep it to yourself, but in reality it's making things worse for you. and while his cancer diagnosis definitely made him pause his life for a bit, maybe take into account the things he wasn't doing right, i don't think he allowed himself to really process what he actually went thru.
and i think this journey he's about to go on is going to do that. i think he might, surprisingly, allow himself to feel bad. the first card in the booklet, which i forgot to mention, talks about letting the tears flow. and so i think colby's gonna have an epiphany and realize "holy shit i could have died" or "omg i went thru something traumatic" and that's gonna hit him like a train. and i think that will start the journey he needs to go on allowing himself to open up and be vulnerable with those around him or those he wants to be that way with. i think for too long he has forced his heart closed bc he doesn't want to get hurt, but in the end all that did was make him feel worse. and he coped with it bc it was what it was. but now, he has time to reflect and realize that isn't what he wants. i think this is also a call to him to maybe…. crazy concept…. take a break. i said this earlier this year when i did their reading, but besides the fact as a fan i know they need a break - the cards also say it. colby especially. that man has been thru a lot, and i think he will slowly realize "you know what, maybe i actually want a real vacation and not just a work one" or "maybe i don't want to work so often that by the time i'm 30 i want to retire forever". so i think this whole reading is showing colby realizing things need to change and him finally taking the stepping stones to do that.
and of course, i had to ask about his love life. surprise to no one, he ain't getting a gf lol BUT he does seem to be heading in the right direction.
first card: moving on. when it comes to colby's love life, i've always had my ideas, my theories. and when i've brought up his ex and how he's not over her, i know a lot of you have argued "how does he still have feelings for her/hung up on her" and the thing is, my argument has always been his feelings for her are gone. that's for sure. but the impact she made on his life and his heart have never left. there is a reason why he's tweeted out "can't get close to anyone" and "starting to feel the way i never thought i could again". while emotionally he has no connection to her, mentally he still does. my bet is that he never got closure from whatever transpired between them. and it's taken him a long time to accept that he never will. but this card shows that he's FINALLY gonna let things go. and not just say that, but truly mean it. and this tied in with his journey in the other reading is probably the reason why he can finally take these steps. what's interesting is that this card isn't only about mentally moving on, but physically too. like physically moving yourself from where you are to somewhere else. like across a body of water…. fascinating.
snc may or may not have mentioned in passing that they wanted to move to london for a bit just to get out of the US and do some editing there. change of scenery. could this be colby getting with some english girlies… who's to say.
second card: solar plexus chakra. again, always strange when i do get cards like this since they come up so irregularly. but this is calling to colby's solar plex aka where his feelings are stored. something isn't completely right with them. they're gonna be off balance. how i interpreted this is that, it's possible that colby will finally allow himself to move on to dating. he will finally stop looking at the girls he with and think "she could be just like me ex and hurt me" which is why he never gets a deep connection. and clearly, his heart wants one. but i think this card is also him being like "i might be back in the dating world, but i ain't about to put all my feelings out there" which i get and is fine. but clearly he wants to make a connection. which hopefully he will allow himself to do.
final card: triumph. major arcana similar to the chariot. this card is basically saying the things that colby wants he can get as long as he finds a balance. as long as he understands deeply what he wants, he can move forward and get it. now, obviously i don't know what colby wants in his love life. hell, he may not even want one right now. which if that's the case, he will certainly get it. but if he does want a gf, as long as he understands what that entails for him and his life, he can get it.
do i see colby getting a gf any time soon? not really. colby still has a lot he needs to work on in terms of himself and his inner demons. but i think he's headed in the right direction to start to date again, and finally move on from his past heartaches. he's heading in the right direction to get what he wants, and if that means a gf - he can do it. but he also has to allow himself to heal, stop doubting others, and open himself up to new experiences. baby steps are needed rn, but all good things come in time.
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