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kiyawritesforf1 · 3 days ago

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WEIRD VIBES ONLY

Pairing : Lando Norris x Reader

Words : 2.5k

The 4+1 times people overheard Lando and his Girlfriend’s weird conversations.

1. The Pit Crew Misadventure

Lando Norris was fresh off a practice lap, helmet still tucked under his arm, when Y/N bounded into the McLaren garage like a caffeinated squirrel. She’d swiped a wrench from a toolbox—because of course she had—and was twirling it like a baton. “So, if we’re doing it in the cockpit,” she said, voice low but not low enough, “I say we go full throttle. Maximum chaos, no holding back. I want sparks flying.”

Lando grinned, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. “Yeah, but I’d need to adjust the seat first. Can’t have you slipping around when I hit the apex. Precision’s key.”

Dave, a lanky mechanic with a permanent oil smudge on his cheek, was lugging a tire past them when his ears caught the exchange. Cockpit? Full throttle? Slipping around? Sparks? His brain short-circuited. He pictured Lando and Y/N sneaking into the car after hours, doing unspeakable things on the carbon-fiber seat, probably breaking half a dozen FIA regulations in the process. The tire slipped from his grip, bouncing once before rolling into a stack of toolboxes with a clang.

“You alright, mate?” Lando called, eyebrows raised.

Dave didn’t answer. He bolted for the break room, where he found his buddy Pete sipping a lukewarm coffee. “Mate,” Dave hissed, “Lando’s about to defile the car in ways I can’t unsee. Send help. Or a priest.”

Pete choked on his coffee. “What, like, in the car?”

“Full throttle,” Dave whispered, eyes wide. “Sparks and everything.”

Meanwhile, back in the garage, Y/N tossed the wrench onto a workbench. “So, confetti cannons in the sim rig—yes or no?”

“Yes,” Lando said, “but we’re blaming Oscar if it jams.” They high-fived, oblivious to the existential crisis they’d just triggered.

2. The Supermarket Scandal

It was a rare off-day, and Lando and Y/N were prowling the aisles of a Tesco near Silverstone. Y/N, in a hoodie that swallowed her frame, held up a box of Frosted Flakes like it was a sacred artifact. “Okay, but if we’re doing it with the tiger,” she said, “we’ve got to time it perfectly—right when the sugar hits. That’s the sweet spot.”

Lando, pushing a cart with one wobbly wheel, nodded with the seriousness of a race strategist. “Timing’s everything. Too soon, and it’s just messy. Too late, and we’re sticky for hours. I’m not dealing with that again.”

A middle-aged woman in a sensible cardigan—let’s call her Janet—was browsing the oatmeal section nearby. She froze, her hand hovering over a box of Quaker Oats, as her imagination ran wild. Doing it with the tiger? Sugar hits? Sticky for hours? She envisioned some depraved, cereal-mascot-fueled roleplay, complete with Lando in a Tony the Tiger costume and Y/N wielding a can of whipped cream. Her basket trembled in her grip as she backed away, abandoning her oats to escape the depravity.

Later that night, Janet regaled her book club with the tale. “I don’t know what’s wrong with kids these days,” she said, clutching her tea. “That racer boy and his girlfriend are freaky. I’ll never look at Frosted Flakes the same way.”

In reality, Y/N was already rigging their Roomba with a cereal bowl while Lando filmed, cackling as the vacuum skidded across their flat, flinging flakes everywhere. “This is gold,” he said, dodging a stray piece. “TikTok’s gonna lose it.”

“Next time,” Y/N replied, “we add milk.”

3. The Hotel Lobby Horror

The night before the Monaco Grand Prix, Lando and Y/N were sprawled across a plush couch in the hotel lobby, surrounded by marble floors and overpriced chandeliers. Y/N kicked her sneakers off and propped her feet on Lando’s lap. “If we’re using the feathers,” she said, “I want them everywhere—total coverage, no gaps. It’s gotta be epic.”

Lando smirked, poking her foot. “Fine, but I’m not cleaning up after. Last time, I was picking them out of weird places for days. My socks were shedding for a week.”

Behind the reception desk, a concierge named Philippe—crisp suit, impeccable mustache—nearly dropped his tray of complimentary sparkling waters. Feathers? Total coverage? Weird places? His mind conjured a scene straight out of a risqué rom-com: Lando and Y/N tangled in a pile of plucked pillows, feathers drifting through the air like some avant-garde sex ritual. He coughed, adjusted his tie, and spent the rest of his shift warning coworkers to steer clear of Room 312. “They’re… creative,” he muttered. “Very creative.”

Upstairs, Y/N was sketching a feathered dinosaur costume on a napkin while Lando scrolled through gaming forums. “Think we can get it done before the next stream?” she asked.

“Only if we bribe Carlos with pizza,” Lando said. “He’s got the hot glue gun skills.”

4. The Paddock Panic

The paddock at Spa was buzzing with pre-race energy when Y/N sidled up to Lando near the McLaren hospitality tent. She lowered her voice, but the wind carried it just far enough. “I’m telling you, the harness is key. Strap me in tight, and I’m good for at least twenty minutes.”

Lando chuckled, tossing an energy drink can between his hands. “Twenty? Bold. I’d say fifteen tops before you’re begging to get out. You’re not built for that kind of endurance.”

A journalist from Racing Weekly, lurking behind a potted plant with her notebook out, perked up like a bloodhound. Harness? Strap her in? Endurance? She scribbled furiously, her pen practically smoking. This was it—the scoop of the season. She could already see the headline: “Exclusive: Norris and GF’s BDSM Secrets Revealed!” She pitched it to her editor that night, claiming she’d uncovered the spicy underbelly of F1’s golden boy.

Back at the tent, Y/N adjusted the straps on a go-kart harness, grinning at Lando. “Twenty minutes around the track, and I’ll smoke you,” she said. “Loser buys dinner.”

“You’re on,” Lando replied, “but when you tap out at fifteen, I want extra garlic bread.”

+1. The Truth Comes Out

It all came to a head at a McLaren team dinner after the Italian Grand Prix. The restaurant was cozy, all dim lights and clinking wine glasses, with the team sprawled across a long table. Dave the mechanic was there, still haunted by the cockpit fiasco. Janet, who turned out to be Oscar Piastri’s aunt, had tagged along with a friend. Philippe the concierge, off-duty and visiting a cousin in Monza, sat at the bar. The Racing Weekly journalist hovered near the dessert cart, hoping for more dirt.

Lando and Y/N were at the end of the table, heads bent together as usual. Y/N tapped her fork against her plate. “Lando, if we’re doing the whipped cream thing tonight, we need to prep the tarp. I’m not scrubbing the ceiling again.”

Lando nodded, chewing a breadstick. “Yeah, last time it got everywhere—total disaster. Took me an hour to unstick my shoes.”

The eavesdroppers leaned in, senses tingling. Dave whispered to Pete, “Whipped cream in the cockpit?” Janet clutched her pearls, imagining a dairy-drenched tiger romp. Philippe pictured feathers and cream, while the journalist scribbled, “Kinky Dessert Fetish Confirmed.”

Then Y/N pulled out her phone and shoved it in Lando’s face. “Look, here’s the vid from last time,” she said, loud enough for the table to hear. The screen showed their kitchen, a tarp on the floor, and a towering, wobbly whipped-cream sculpture that collapsed mid-build, splattering them both. Lando’s shriek of “MY HAIR!” echoed through the restaurant as Y/N doubled over laughing on the video.

The table erupted. Oscar snorted into his pasta. “You two are idiots,” he said. Zak Brown shook his head, grinning. “I don’t even want to know.”

Dave dropped his fork. Janet blinked, her scandal evaporating. Philippe coughed into his wine, and the journalist snapped her notebook shut, muttering, “Well, that’s not printable.”

Y/N caught the stares and smirked. “What? It was for a charity bake-off livestream. We raised, like, two grand.”

Lando leaned back, arms behind his head. “Next time, we’re building a spaghetti catapult. Way less sticky.”

The eavesdroppers slunk away, red-faced, as Lando and Y/N clinked glasses, already plotting their next absurd adventure. Their dynamic was weird—borderline unhinged—but it was theirs. Cute, chaotic, and definitely not what anyone thought. Best to just leave them to it.

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emo-batboy · 2 years ago

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Battinson and the JL ft. His Eventual Identity Reveal

(If you’re just here for the cutesy bits, skip to Attempt #2. Otherwise, STRAP IN CUZ IT’S A LOT)

Bruce Wayne of Matt Reeves’ The Batman is not the founder type.

He wouldn’t voluntarily join a book club, much less join a league of super powered vigilantes whom he does not know personally.

So in this universe, you probably wouldn’t call him one of the three Founding members.

But he’s still integral to the formation of the Justice League

It starts out with a friendly visit :)

Bruce is patrolling on a random night in Gotham when he notices a weird thing in the sky. It’s floating just far enough behind him that a less vigilant person wouldn’t have noticed, but Bruce is always watching his own back, and he takes it as a threat.

He strays from his usual path and then heads to a warehouse roof before turning to face the threat.

It’s Superman. All smiley and dressed in primary colors. The strongest, most powerful being on Earth just floating over like he wasn’t stalking Batman a second ago. Bruce does not like that.

“What do you want with Gotham?” He asks. “I don’t,” Superman says. “I wanted to talk to The Batman.” So this is some kind of fight? An intervention? A warning? Then Superman frowns. “You…are The Batman, right?”

Bruce only nods as he considers his options, but he can’t really do that when Superman has super speed, super sight, super strength, super breath, super lots-of-things-that-Batman-probably-doesn’t-know-of.

Then Superman surprises him by landing on the roof and giving him this pitch about a superhero group.

Superman and a few other vigilantes have been bouncing around the idea of teaming up together so they can help one another protect their cities. And The Batman was a “perfect candidate.”

“I’m not joining your club.” “It’s not a club. It’s a league.” “What’s your mission statement, then?” “A what?” Bruce fights the urge to roll his eyes. He still doesn’t trust this guy. “Take your league idea back to the drawing board then we can talk.” He does not intend on talking.

But two months later, Superman is back. This time, he brings another super powered vigilante named Wonder Woman.

She smiles, politely approaches him, and says “Superman tells me you want to learn more about our league.” That is not what he said, but he doesn’t bite.

Bruce can’t decide which they remind him of more: college recruiters or cult leaders. But because Wonder Woman genuinely seems to care about seeing this project through, and the roster she has of current like-minded vigilantes is impressive, he lets her talk.

And to give her credit, she definitely thought out the logistics more. It almost makes up for the time they’re wasting.

Okay, fine. They’re still way behind on concept, and it’s pitiful. He actually feels bad.

They obviously care! They just have no idea how to run a business like he does. Is it a bit cynical to think of this league of Justice as a business? Yes, but that’s the only way he can even conceive this happening and working.

Bruce asks about their organization’s leadership structure, and that’s when Wonder Woman falters a bit. “We want to work with each other, not for.” Bruce bites his tongue on that subject.

He asks about their scope of work. “We want to help as many people as we can, but that can be ironed out later.” Bruce bites his tongue on that subject.

He asks “Who’s funding this?” She answers, “We have a few members willing to pitch in, but the majority will have to come from generous citizens.” And that’s when he just stops asking questions. Because what?

If he could cry the grease paint off, he would.

They can’t just think every super-powered vigilante is going to sing Kumbaya and braid each other’s hair. There needs to be checks and balances within the organization to avoid tyranny and corruption. They need a reliable source of donations (that doesn’t immediately out Bruce.) They need a proper chain of command. They need to map out their area of responsibility. They need to design a VERY strict vetting process. It’s not sunshine and rainbows. It’s hard work!

So he says he’ll think about it again and complains to Alfred about the weird super stalkers.

But for SOME reason, Alfred doesn’t see the problem

Alfred encourages him to join so he can “make some friends.” But how can he trust these people if they can’t even make a half-decent pitch? It’s like a bad episode of Shark Tank.

And “make friends?” They’re all masked

But after a week of gentle nudging (read: very firm lectures), Bruce agrees. ONLY to keep tabs on the rest of the vigilante world and possible threats to Gotham

(And without his help, they’ll probably butt-dial Lex Luthor the nuclear codes or something)

And he is damn well going to figure out who these people really are before he helps them make a Super Organization.

Alfred figures out about half of their secret identities purely as a brain exercise while Bruce is out fighting crime and collecting head injuries like Pokémon cards. They figure out the rest together.

They also develop contingency plans for every single member. Just in case.

And after months of Batman being visited by random vigilantes, whom he has several choice words for about personal space—“This is my city. Go away.”—he accepts. On several conditions.

Not all of them are appreciated.

Attempt #1: “Making Friends”

After several scheduling conflicts, a lot of prep work, and a really good hype session in front of the mirror, Bruce heads on over to the first official meeting.

Batman arrives with a long list of things they need to do before going public. The first thing on the list?

Write A Mission Statement

What the fuck are they actually trying to do? Bruce thinks this is a great starting point.

And you’d think (you’d think) this Justice League thing would be easier to tolerate than the drawn-out exec meetings he has to sit through with boring, old businessmen who keep delaying things so they can hash out every little detail.

To Bruce’s absolute horror, he BECOMES the boring businessman who’s delaying things so they can hash out every little detail. He misses the boring, old businessmen. At least they knew what they were doing.

Every turn, he is argued with.

“Why do we need a mission statement?” “‘Power Structure’ feels authoritarian. Can’t we just share leadership duties?” “Do we really need this much paperwork?”

Bruce has the audacity to say, “We need to develop some sort of protocol that helps us analyze any possible threat.” But no. “Why can’t I just jump in? I have eyes.” “Jumping in without studying an opponent’s behavior could cause more harm than good,” he insists. “So what? I’m going to watch an alien monster go on a rampage through my city instead of fighting it?” “Yes. You don’t know what it’s capable of.”

Bruce already regrets joining.

All he hears is the others gossiping. “Is this guy really telling us how to be heroes?” “He’s got a major stick up his ass.” “I knew we shouldn’t have let him join.” And if that doesn’t dissuade him, he doesn’t know what will.

“How was the first meeting?” Alfred asks. Bruce scowls. “I’m not making friends.”

Nonetheless, Bruce sticks it out for weeks until they have some semblance of an organization. And, to his shock and amazement, it…kind of works.

The Justice League makes its debut, and Wayne Enterprises generously donates some money “out of spite” after Lex Luthor publicly denounces the league. (Honestly, Bruce would too if he hadn’t personally duct-taped it together himself.)

But the league starts small, just like he told them, they respond to natural disasters and public safety threats first (as per the outreach initiative) and focus on protecting communities in need (as per the mission statement.)

Yes, they still think Batman has a stick up his ass because he’s a stickler for writing incident reports, but no one else reads them so he has the right to be pissed.

He’s almost kind of sort of content with how it’s going. Even his reputation as a vigilante is improving.

That’s when another glaring difference between him and the other members appears.

Despite looking the same age as the rest of the team, Bruce is actually much younger?? Even excluding the aliens, gods, etc.

Most of his teammates are in their late 30’s, early 40’s. Meanwhile, Bruce is at the ripe age of 29 and a half.

He is the youngest by ten years.

Everyone kind of just assumes he’s the same age, though, so they make references to 80’s kids stuff that he only vaguely understands through Alfred and his business partners. He just sits there in silence like a child who snuck over to the adult table and is waiting to get caught.

So on top of the rift he (accidentally) created when they started the organization, it’s even harder to connect through similar interests. Other than punching people together.

And Bruce Wayne has a bad case of imposter syndrome when it comes to their superpowers.

He’s always in the corner brooding, and everyone’s like ummm antisocial much?

But 50% of the time, it’s because he’s thinking “I’ll never amount to the incredible heroic feats everyone else has accomplished. How can I possibly make a difference to the world if I’m already struggling to save Gotham?” Like a little emo freak 🖤

(Meanwhile, you couldn’t pay those mf’s to step foot in Gotham. This Bat guy’s crazy and he’s human apparently?! No way. Nuh uh.)

The OTHER 50% of his “brooding” is Bruce standing to the side with a mixture of concern and judgment because his teammates’ competency in certain areas is…alarmingly low sometimes.

One week, he finds himself thinking, “How do these grown-ass adults not know their way around a digital map? They’re 40, not geriatric.”

Then like a week later, it’s “These fucking war fossils don’t even know Morse code. I gotta do everything around here.”

One of the final straws is when he says, “Did they just break another fucking Keurig? Who does that, Alfred? It’s the fifth one.”

Suffice it to say, he’s not very personable. But is it his fault? Well yeah, a little bit. Like……..65% his fault.

(The remaining 35% is their moaning and groaning whenever Batman calls a meeting.)

Bruce’s irritation is totally justified.

God, he just wants to go home.

Why is he doing this again?

Attempt #2: Actually Making Friends

The first JL member to break through his cold, black exterior is Wonder Woman. She needs help with search and rescue after a sinkhole opens up near an elementary school, but no one’s available until Batman responds to her call.

He’s on the scene in less than an hour and makes quick work in securing the area. Thankfully, she catches him once it’s over. (He always runs off without saying goodbye.)

“Thanks for helping. Everyone else was just so busy. I’m glad you could fly over.” Batman mumbles something that she can’t quite hear. “What was that?” she asks. “I was busy too,” he repeats. She gives him a weird look, and he freezes up for a second as he realizes that probably wasn’t appropriate to say. “I mean…this was more important. There were kids in danger so it didn’t…matter if I was busy.”

Wonder Woman considers how awkward The Batman looks for a moment then smiles. So he really is human. “Well, thank you. The help was very much appreciated.”

Since then, several small acts of kindness and solidarity earn Batman some respect from the rest of the team.

One day, Flash complains about how boring their meetings are so Batman brings a massive bin of fidget toys. After placing them in front of the Flash, he mumbles, “These are for ADHD. They’re useful.” Flash almost cries with relief. He is very touched.

Another day, Green Arrow is severely injured in battle. Without a word, Batman leaves the fight, takes him to a safe location, stops the bleeding, and does it all while repeatedly making sure he’s awake and asking permission to remove certain pieces of clothing.

In another fight, Plastic Man’s mask is thrown off, and Batman sees his face. In a second, Batman tosses a smoke bomb, picks up the mask, and hands it back before anyone else can look. It costs them time and the element of surprise, and Plastic Man knows it, but Batman did it anyway.

A JL member’s stomach grumbles during one too many meetings. Suddenly, their little break room becomes a fully stocked kitchen with shelf-stable meal items and all the basic necessities. There’s a nut-free section, a gluten-free section, everything. The only reason they know it’s him is because anyone else would have admitted to it.

(He renovated the whole fucking thing. In one night. By himself.)

And they all see how gentle he is with children. Countless times, The Batman is spotted prioritizing young civilians at any given moment.

He has lollipops in his belt. And Bluey bandaids too.

It’s the little things that make them feel closer to him :)

And okay maybe his goddamn Mission Statement lecture wasn’t so bad

So they stop moaning and groaning

Okay, now it’s bonding time WOOHOO!!

Attempt #3: Kinda? Friends??

One day, Superman says he isn’t too fond of billionaires (because of Lex, obviously) and goes on a rant about capitalism. Bruce doesn’t dare contribute because 1) he’s the richest man in the world and 2) every other billionaire he’s met is insufferable.

(Including Oliver Queen who Bruce refuses to look at while Green Arrow “defends his city’s billionaire.”)

(And while we’re on the topic of Green Arrow, Bruce cannot forget the disappointing almost-fling two summers ago. He still holds a grudge.)

Green Arrow: “You’re all fashion nightmares. Who wears a cape in the 21st century?” Batman: “At least my facial hair isn’t longer than my dick.” GA: “What was that, Batman?” B: “What?”

Also Bruce is very attracted to Superman.

(He likes older men.)

(Yes, I am referring to Henry Cavill’s Superman.)

(Sue me.)

(But don’t get your hopes up. He does literally nothing about it.)

(Coward.)

One of the JL members complains about how sore they are after a few missions so Bruce cashes in his Monthly Attempt to Socialize and says, “Try yoga. It helps me.” “…Batman, you do yoga?” “Yes. My son got me into it….It’s good for you.” “You have a son?!” He is never socializing again.

They also learn that Batman has the smallest frame on the team. (Like yeah, he’s tall, but he’s also lanky, and everyone else is either an alien or a human dorito.)

One night, they need to sneak through the vents of some building so Bruce offers to do it. Someone says, “It’s a tight squeeze. Are you sure you can fit?” Then he just takes his cape and pauldrons and shoulder pads off and is suddenly like a foot skinnier

“Wait…is this why you’re so good at hiding in the shadows?” Bruce just glares at the Flash for a second before climbing into the vents.

(The answer is yes.)

A betting pool is started over whether or not Batman is part Bat.

In fact, several betting pools begin because no one knows anything about the guy??

Aquaman and Plastic Man go to great lengths to figure out what his hair color is.

They lose their shit once Bruce tells them he’s vegetarian.

Green Lantern: “Every time he opens his mouth, we learn something new. Next, he’s going to tell me he speaks Swahili!” Batman: “I do.” GL: “Oh, come on!”

Superman: “We need someone on the inside for this international operation to work, but that’ll take at least three months undercover.” Batman: “Don’t worry. I have connections.” S: “…In Shanghai?” B: “Yes.”

The Flash adds SHANGHAI?? to his conspiracy board

Bruce needs to stop trying to socialize. It’s better for everyone’s cardiovascular health.

A year or two in, they’re all introduced to Captain Marvel. Bruce is the first and only person to learn his true identity (kid Billy Batson) because Bruce is the only one with a kid. That way, he understands the weird Gen-Alpha humor and references.

Millennia-old deities don’t use the term Flop Era.

And, of course, they play FMK at some point.

(I mean, come on. There are like TWO mature adults on this team, but Martian Manhunter doesn’t know what’s going on until it’s too late, and Wonder Woman is busy at her day job.)

During that particular round, the celebrities are Bruce Wayne, Lex Luthor, and Kylie Jenner. Bruce does, in fact, want to kill himself, but he chooses Fuck instead because of this exact conversation:

Green Lantern: Come on, Bats. It’s just a game! Choose already. Batman: No. I’m against killing. GL: Oh, go fuck yourself. This situation is completely hypothetical, and you know it. B: Fine! Fuck Bruce, Marry Kylie, Kill Lex. GL: See? That wasn’t so hard :) Bruce:

He tried

Attempt #4: Ah shit, FRIEND?

The identity reveal comes about three years after he joins. He’s 32, has three kids, he’s been on hundreds of missions with them, the team’s over twice its original size, and there are domestic terrorists overtaking Manhattan.

Superman, Wonder Woman, The Flash, Green Lantern, Martian Manhunter, and The Batman try to extract as many civilians as possible, but now they’re being hunted. After hiding in a warehouse and considering their options, MM finally suggests that they pose as civilians, which immediately creates uproar.

Bruce, however, realizes this is the only way out.

But it’s not dramatic or badass like that one JL episode. No, instead, he thinks about it, swallows the regret, and just—

Takes off his cowl.

And the whole room falls dead fucking quiet.

Then, “Oh fuck.”

(That was Green Lantern.)

Bruce just shrugs and mumbles, “Martian is right. It’s the only way.” And really fucking hopes the grease paint hides his red face because he is not having a good time right now.

He would rather die, actually, but they need to get somewhere safe and Fast.

The others look him up and down then nod slowly. “Uh yeah.” “Okay, sure.” “This is fine.” “We’ll do that.”

The others begin slowly taking off their suits and changing into something more casual. Bruce takes his off, revealing the skin-tight compression suit underneath, and stuffs his armor in the roll-up duffel bag that’s kept in his belt.

He changes into his drifter outfit, wipes his face clean, and suddenly, The Batman’s just a normal guy. (A very pretty normal guy, mind you. His teammates have eyes.)

“We can head to my place,” Bruce says. “It’s closer, and I know the train system pretty well.” And yes, he’s pretty soft-spoken outside of the suit, but now it feels even more obvious.

Meanwhile, the others are like—

Oh. My. God.

Oh my god, he’s fucking shy. Batman is acting shy in front of us. Dear fucking god. Batman is Bruce Wayne. And Bruce is shy so Batman is fucking shy?? Bruce is pretty too. Holy fuck. He is very pretty.

And he’s so young?? Oh my god, he’s a BABY wtf?! He’s like four inches shorter. Four inches tall! They’re all towering over him without his massive boots and armor, and he just hunches over with the big duffel bag like he wants to sink into the floor, and he’s so small.

Wonder Woman wants to put him in her pocket.

Sue her.

They end up taking the train back. Bruce has on the mask and cap that hides his face (poor Superman, he really likes his jawline) and they all follow Bruce as he gets off and on several trains at seemingly random stops. THEN when they’re finally in Gotham, they head into an abandoned-looking subway station that leads them into a…cave?? WTF

And in the middle of the cave is an elderly man with a cane and a three-piece suit just lounging on a recliner. (WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK—)

He looks up from his crossword puzzle and says, “Ah! You’ve finally made friends, I see?” Bruce rolls his eyes. “This is not a sleepover,” he gripes. “Shame. I was about to grab your footie pajamas for you.”

The man smiles at them. “A pleasure to meet Master Wayne’s work friends in person. Would you like some coffee? Tea? If you’re like him, this is going to be a long night.”

No one dares to question why this man recognizes them in their civvies

They also can’t tell if the footie pajamas line was a joke or not. After tonight, nothing is off the table.

(This is a minefield of information. Barry is having flashbacks to his conspiracy board. No one is going to fucking believe him.)

They all settle into one corner of the cave. Bruce leaves to change and comes back looking like this:

(Goddamnit, Clark is having a meltdown. His hair looks so good wet.)

At one point while they’re plotting, Wonder Woman glances over his shoulder to see Bruce checking some sort of security camera. A boy, maybe nine or ten, is sleeping in bed. “Is that your son?” Bruce clearly doesn’t want to answer, but Alfred gives him a look, and Bruce sighs. “One of them. Yes.”

Later, they have to analyze some explosive samples in the cave, and Barry, forensic scientist extraordinaire, has some choice words about the non-sterile environment.

Barry: This doesn’t look safe. Bruce: My lab is perfectly clean and functional. *bat screeches* Don’t worry about that.

For the rest of the night, they use the evidence they have to track down the organization while the rest of the JL suits up and saves NYC.

After a few hours, they’re safe to return to NYC for damage control. But Alfred refuses to let Bruce go with them. “Your sons are worried. Drive them to school, then you’re coming home and sleeping.”

Bruce clearly wants to argue, but the mention of his kids stops him. He sighs and turns to the others who are already changed. “Let me know if you need anything. I can be there in ten minutes.”

They all nod, knowing full well they will not be doing that. The guy clearly needs rest.

(Also, he is a single father of three and still goes out every night to punch robbers and crime bosses? Is he doing okay?)

Then they head back to NYC with so many questions.

But a lot of it makes sense too, actually. Maybe they just weren’t thinking about the man behind the mask enough to see it.

They learned a lot about their friend that night.

And they have a lot of bets to cash in.

FIN

Okay :D that was a lot! If you enjoyed it, please let me know. This has been simmering in the back of my head for months <3 Have a great day and drink some water :)

Hey bestie @bruciemilf

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arahir · 3 months ago

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Real talk..do you have any real advice on how to make friends as an almost 30 year old woman…

three easy (coughcough) steps: 1) pick an activity 2) commit to the horror of being known 3) know when you're vibing and know when to pack it up.

pick an activity. mine are gardening, hiking, reading, writing, geology, and chickens, and i've made and kept friends through each of those. make your own list of things you want to do, and want to meet other people who do. you can do it in a structured setting, which i recommend. most cities have clubs, activities, and people who are trying to organize. my city has... regular volunteer clean ups along the river, organized hikes, a few very nice community colleges where you can take random classes, gardening events, silent book clubs, a discord for lonely 30 year olds, etc. likewise, you can meet people online through these activities. writing has got me a lot of great friends! having these activities is also important because it will let you keep the friends you start to make by giving you built in places to show up together.

commit to the horror of being known. i don't know how else to put this. it will be embarrassing. you will say stuff and you will go "why the fuck did i say that?" and they will say stuff and you'll think the same thing. this is, unfortunately, how it works. you have to be a fucking idiot at times, and it's fine, because no one wants to be friends with someone who takes themself too seriously. be embarrassingly into whatever you're into. and then when you meet someone you think could eventually be a friend, you have to put a feeler out there. my favorites are "hey have you been to X on Y? i really want to check it out." "have you seen X and do you want to see it?" "we should grab coffee!" it works a surprising amount of the time. all you really need to make a friend is one good conversation and one person throwing a line to another.

know when to pack it up. okay unfortunately, if you're doing this regularly, you're going to meet people who you do not actually want to be friends with. also unfortunate: it isn't dating, and you can't break up the same way. i met a girl who thought i was her reincarnated lover from the 1300s. i met a girl who tried to recruit me into a sex cult. i met a woman who tried to get me to join a lesbian farming commune. i met a guy who seemed cool and then tried to cheat on his girlfriend with me. we roll. and sometimes, we roll away from people, at extreme speed. guard your time and do not waste it on people you don't want to be friends with.

other points i'll add are: consistently follow up with people (even if that means adding them to a calendar), understand when you are the one not being vibed with and don't take it personally, don't lie to try and be what you think someone wants you to be, and practice. all of this takes practice. i was largely friendless for a lot of years because i didn't like talking to people, couldn't not try to be cool around them, and was a shitty person. you're already ahead on all three counts. and another word of encouragement: making one friend usually means making a half a dozen, because people will bring their own friends with them. i've certainly made a lot that way. it's really only a process you have to go through a few times before it starts coming faster and easier. good luck anon! <333

#not adding this but also: the number of friends i made through writing fanfic #woooooweee man #and i still have them! and i am binding my soul to them so they can never leave me #unfortunately i also met someone who tried to get me to join her writing club this way #but it was just the two of us #and she wanted us to write a tv show about ourselves #you have to run sometimes #you have to run very far away and very fast

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gghostwriter · 10 months ago

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[Requests are closed]

-> Currently in the process of tackling all the requests and part 3 of ‘One Single Thread of Gold’

Hi, you can call me Pau. I’m in my 20s and a self proclaimed spencer reid writer and a closeted aaron hotchner girl. My askbox is always open for questions and yapping.

Disclaimer: All one shots and requests are written in fem!reader but my two series are fem!oc

You can check out my reading library for book recommendations!

Most recent fic: Pressure Points ↳ After a traumatic event, Spencer coaxes you back to the land of the living, right by his side

One shots

Angst

Death of a Love Affair [sad] ↳ The three times you understood and the final time you couldn’t. Still Alive for My Lover [happy] ↳ The four times Spencer brushes with death and the fifth time he’s reborn to find his way back to you Dead Man Walking [sad] ↳ The three times memories of his broken promises plagued Spencer’s mind and the final time he’s faced with the consequences Poison Me, I'm Fine [sad] ↳ Your choice of poison was Spencer Reid. Who knew he would kill you and set you free in the process Knots of Yearning ↳ Spencer lies by omission or in which Spencer acts like he doesn’t know how to tie a tie just to get you to do it for him A Series of Happenstance ↳ The three times Spencer loathed to see you and the one time he pleaded to Three's a Sideshow ↳ Spencer misses an important date and ends up paying the consequences How Three Became One ↳ In the aftermath of your failed make-up anniversary dinner, the third person in the relationship reaches out to you Emails He Didn’t Send ↳ Through a series of unsent emails, Spencer laments through the loss of his life.

Fluff

You’re the Risk, I’ll Take it ↳ The three times Spencer followed advice and the one time he didn't. Language of Devotion ↳ You caught Spencer learning a new skill—your native language One Single Thread of Gold ↳ The 3 times Penelope tries to solve a Spencer Reid riddle and the 1 time she (and the team) meet the reason behind all the changes. Camaraderie ↳ Spencer and some unwanted guests catch you singing at a bad time Wanted: A Gentleman ↳ Your lovely group of friends, Penelope, JJ, and Emily, set you up with your perfect match If You Love Me Right ↳ Emily asks an all important question regarding the next step of your relationship with Spencer Whispered Truths ↳ Your weekly reading club with boyfriend, Spencer Reid, has never been as sweet and life-changing as this night Lips of a Gentleman ↳ A spontaneous museum date alters your relationship with Spencer for the better The Language of Flowers ↳ Spencer prepares a personalized gift for his first date with you Level-One Intruder ↳ Spencer apprehends an unexpected but adorable trespasser Time Gave No Compass, Were There Clues? ↳ The three times fate brings you to cross paths with a certain handsome stranger and the one time he purposely crosses with yours Intruder’s Heist ↳ The inner musings of the amazing Mr Chewie, the good and the bad

Comfort

Deepest Fear ↳ Spencer wakes from a nightmare and you comfort him Out of Sunshine ↳ Having forgotten your dinner date, Spencer comforts his usually sunshine girlfriend Have Your Cake ↳ Spencer notices a change in you that he tries to address Time is a Fickle Thing ↳ Spencer realizes how important it is to occupy the present and be active in the little things Pressure Points ↳ After a traumatic event, Spencer coaxes you back to the land of the living, right by his side

Mini Series

A Series of Happenstance [1] ↳ Spencer Reid x House!Daughter!Reader One Single Thread of Gold [1] [2] ↳ Spencer Reid x Fashion!Reader Three's A Sideshow [1] [2] [3] ↳ Spencer Reid x BreakUp!Reader Wanted: A Gentleman [1] [2] [3] ↳ Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader [Inspired by Short n' Sweet]

Series

Entangled Strings of Fate - Fem!OC x Spencer [ongoing] Caltech, Pasadena - Cleo considers herself a woman of logic With an IQ of 158 and an eidetic memory, how could she not. But meeting Spencer, the boy genius to hers, had her believing in intangible theories like the invisible string and the fates itself. Now, if only he would notice the depth of her feelings. Trope - Friends to Lovers; Eventual Romance Last update - Sept 26 [chapter 8] ; Next update - tba

Yours Truly, Romeo - Fem!OC x Spencer [finished] Washington, DC - A string of grizzly murders and obsessive love letters causes Olivia and Spencer’s paths to intertwine. With a serial killer proclaiming his undying devotion to her and the thick tension surrounding her and her agent turned bodyguard, Olivia’s life is writing out like a contemporary love story that she, as a successful writer, could see herself publishing. Trope - Strangers to Lovers, Mystery, Romance

Requests.

💗 fluff || 💥 angst || 💧hurt/comfort

Hallucinate 💗 ↳ Spencer gets in one accident and thinks you are more than a friend. He believes you're his wife. Blackout 💗 ↳ Spencer finds you passed out on the bathroom floor Phantasmagoria 💗 ↳ Due to an injury, you mistakenly believe Spencer's your husband Birds of a Feather 💗 ↳ Spencer catches you drawing him and he shyly poses for it Bundle of Nerves 💗 ↳ You pass out during work hours and Spencer worriedly rushes to see you Ice Princess 💗 ↳ You take down an unsub and the team finds out a truth about you Sentencing 💗💧 ↳ Spencer (and team) support you during a court hearing His 💗💥 ↳ You visit Spencer in prison and he reacts to the lewd remarks thrown your way Cherished 💗 ↳ Spencer arrives home to a very sweet surprise Down Under 💗 ↳ Spencer questions your colorful vocabulary and it's meaning Cocoa Powder 💗 ↳ While Spencer is in prison, you discover a secret Eden 💗 💥 ↳ Spencer worries for his roommate [based on 'Eden' by Hozier] Curveball 💗 ↳ Spencer proposes in the middle of chasing an unsub Special Diet 💗 ↳ You, a certified wine connoisseur, say no to a glass of wine and in which the team reacts to Rewriting History 💗 💥 ↳ Spencer takes you as his date to his high school reunion In the Ether 💗 ↳ You and Spencer frolic in the countryside fields Lightweight 💗 ↳ Spencer introduces you, a professional wrestler, to his found family Intermezzo 💗 ↳ You made an unexpected move that crosses your path with a handsome stranger Cucumber Slices 💗 ↳ You invited over your boyfriend for his first official sleepover

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid masterlist

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forwards-beckon-rebound · 5 months ago

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jason todd instagram hcs

basics

his account's private

he created it around the same time he first knew about you

yes, he did do it because he realized it's probably weird for him to not have any sort of social media

and then randomly posted 2 things so he looked interesting (the shirtless pic may or may not be intentional and obviously the books to show his intellectual side or whatever)

really really bad with social media and all of the naming stuff (i mean are we surprised)

followers + following

mostly his family, friends, and other vigilantes he's worked with

literally whooped with joy the day wonder woman requested to follow him and he would not shut up about it

only person he's following is you ofc (he has a burner account so he can follow people and make sure his brothers aren't doing stupid stuff but he won't admit it)

highlights

yes he does refer to you as his wife to anybody who will listen (and even if they don't he'll still try to anyways)

it's a lot of photos of you guys on dates, some candids of you, basically whenever he thinks you look pretty (all the time) and you let him post the photo

i don't really see him being particularly sappy with his words so he probably just writes like "with my girl" or "date night" or something simple like that

and then some like classic rock song in the bg

honestly idrk what nunya is, i just thought it'd be funny to use that pic for something

probably him hanging out with his friends or random funny stuff he sees

will beat up a guy and then be like "lol went to check this guy's id and his name is deadass buford"

dog is of course photos of your dog, dog!! you guys share custody of her and you would kill anybody for her

there are some photos of him and dog that you've taken

but a lot of them are of you and dog

he likes to go through his wife and dog highlights when he's away on missions and stuff like that (but also he definitely has folders with way more photos on his phone)

posts

he doesn't post that often

but when he does it's usually of you lmfao

definitely posted the third pic from the bottom up when you guys got together

you took the photos of him for him and convinced him to post his to his instagram for once

the book he's reading is actually one you recommended

you guys have a mini book club between the two of you (you guys just read and annotate books and then trade)

you got him the harley davidson jacket because you figured he should have different jackets when he's going out as red hood and as jason todd or else he's not gonna have a secret identity for very long

he's kind of obsessed with it

accidentally got some sort of theme going on? you think it's so funny because this man didn't even know that instagram themes were a thing

dick ver.

#i may or may not have a dick grayson ver in my drafts #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd hc #jason todd smau #jason todd imagine #jason todd fic #jason todd fanfiction #batman comics #batman #dc robin #arkham knight #red hood hcs #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n

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kitchen-spoon · 1 year ago

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Steddie where Eddie moves into a small house in a retirement mobile home park. He is the youngest guy there and is pretty handy. All the old ladies in the neighbourhood start to talk about him when he begins to offer his handyman skills to them as well.

One day after finishing up winterizing Mrs. Harrington’s water supply to her trailer she invites Eddie inside for some tea to warm up. Winter hadn’t hit yet but it was already nippy out she told him. Once inside she invites him to come over Sunday night to join her and her friends ‘book club’. At first Eddie politely declines but once she explains to him that its all the old ladies in the neighbourhood sitting around drinking wine, smoking joints, and gossiping he’s in.

Enter Steve who visits his grandma every Sunday for dinner and sometimes stays for her gossip sessions with all the other bitties in the neighbourhood because the snacks are always great. Steve is surprised that week when the door bell rings and a hot long haired pierced man covered in tattoos is standing there instead of another old woman handing him her coat and cane. Steve sputters for a moment but then his grandmother is coming up behind him explaining this is the young man who fixed her water supply for her.

“Well um, thank you for that.” Steve nods awkwardly, watching over his shoulder as his grandmother waddled away back to her friends. “You didn’t have to come though, sorry if she twisted your arm about it, she’s stubborn.” He rubbed at the back of his neck with a small chuckle.

“It’s okay I really don’t mind.” Eddie smiled easily, inching his way into the house and Steve’s personal space. “Smoking weed with a bunch of old ladies and gossiping about my new neighbours sounds like a great way for me to spend my Sunday.” He winked.

“I- yeah it is pretty fun.” Steve agreed having not moved at all. “The snacks are always great too, you’ll have to try Betty’s blondie cake it’s always my favourite.” Steve leaned in to whisper conspiratorially.

Eddie beamed back at him, eyes roving all over Steve’s face before pausing at his lips for a second then darting back up to his eyes. “Lead the way then big boy.” Eddie bit his lip at how red Steve’s face got, he decided to push it slipping his hand into Steve’s.

“Yeah- uh sure yeah.” Steve nodded dumbly staring at their connected hands for a moment before snapping out of it and tugging Eddie along. “Everything is set up in the living room, I just got the fire going to so it should be warm.”

By the end of the night Eddie and Steve were melted into one another on a small single seater in the corner of the room. They watched as all the ladies gathered their coats one by one as their husbands came to collect them.

“It’s sweet.” Steve sighed unprompted, his head lolled against Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie made a questioning noise so he continued. “Seeing their husbands come walk them back home at the end of the night. They aren’t annoyed that their wives are giggly and a bit wobbly they are just happy they are happy and want to be there to take care of them.”

“You are a sappy stoner Steve.” Eddie teased, he moved his hand over and dropped it onto Steve’s thigh giving it a squeeze. “Can’t say I blame you though, it is very cute to see.” Eddie sighed before unsticking himself from Steve’s side and making his way to the door himself. “I better get going, no husband to come walk me home”. He blushed at the implication of his own words.

“I’ll be your husband.” Steve blurted then immediately turned red. “I mean- I meant that I uhum-“

“You can walk me home Steve.” Eddie smiled wide and teasingly. He looked his arm through Steve’s and tugged him through the door, waving goodbye to Mrs.Harrington with a promise to be back next week.

The walk was short considering Eddie was only 2 houses down and one across. They kept their arms looped the entire 3 minutes they walked, and once they reached the door Steve still hadn’t let go.

“Well goodnight.” Steve spoke first, ducking his head away. He took a deep breath then looked back to Eddie determination on his face when he spoke. “See you next week?”

Eddie smiled but shook his head, “I was hoping sooner, how does Wednesday sound?” He moved in closer his hand sliding down to Steve’s waist.

“Wednesday is great I love Wednesday.” Steve nodded frantically then cringed. “I mean I don’t actually love all Wednesday’s just this one because we are-“

Eddie cut his rambling off with a kiss. He leaned in and connected their lips, his free hand coming up to cradle the back of Steve’s head.

Steve melted into the kiss, his body going lax in Eddie’s hold, “Thanks for saving me from embarrassing myself further.”

“Anytime sweetheart.”

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #stranger things ships #steve x eddie #stranger things #stranger things one shot #meet cute #strangers to lovers #flustered steve Harrington #eddie munson has peircings and tattoos #eddie munson knows how to flirt #confident eddie munson #gay steve harrington #steve harrington pov #handy eddie munson #gay eddie munson

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algae-tm · 10 months ago

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PEOPLE, PLACES, THINGS

Max Verstappen x anthropologist! Reader

Author’s note : this smau has a special place in my heart, if you haven’t noticed I’m not Caucasian, but was born and raised in Nigeria and a lot of my university life has been centred around studies of the black diaspora. My masters research is on homosexuality and Afro-syncretic religions, so have been trying to figure out how to incorporate it so thought I’d go full send and thus this was borne.

•••••••••••••••••��••••••••••••••••••••••••••

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peopleplacesthings: I spent three years (give or take) with the people of the Bahia state in Brasil, researching the afro-syncretic religion of Candomblé. My research paper on the gender roles within Candomblé (how men express masculinity, and the role of women as spiritual leaders) will be published online where everyone will be able to access it. Can’t wait to see where the world takes me next!! 🌎🇧🇷

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yourbsfuser: y/n baby I love you and your big brain, but please take a sabbatical 😭. stay in the UK for a while.

— peopleplacesthings: what’s in it for me? 🤨

— yourbsfuser: seeing your family and friends???

— peopleplacesthings: sorry gotta blast, the world is waiting 🏃🏿‍♀️

user10: your masters research on the linguistic appropriation of AAVE was vital for me completing my dissertation! Thank you so much

— peopleplacesthings: passing down knowledge is the key to preserving culture! I love when I get comments like this, well done my love.

lewishamilton: so you’re free now?

— peopleplacesthings: until my next adventure

— lewishamilton: good to know

— user10: not SIR LEWIS HAMILTON in my old TA’s comment section

— user7: IK 😭 she was a guest lecturer at my uni like one month ago! Really my two worlds colliding 😭😭

— user8: how do they know eachother???

— user9: I’m guessing they must have met one of the times Lewis was in Brazil??

— peopleplacesthings: he is my cousin! he’s much older and way less attractive than me so that’s probs why you couldn’t see the family resemblance🙂🙂

yoursisteruser: 2 back to back research papers… you could use a break from work

— peopleplacesthings: it’s not work if you love what you do 🤗🤗

— user17: 2 research papers??? How old is she?

— user19: she’s actually done 3! One for her masters which was only 15,000 words and then 2 more, her 2nd was for her PhD and she’s published her last two as books. She’s 28 if I’m not mistaken. I’m not a stalker just obsessed with her work!

— user17: oh so she’s SMART smart

— user19: bro she’s DOCTORATE OF ANTHROPOLOGY smart

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peopleplacesthings: I can check getting papped reading in the park off my bucket list… maybe I should start a book club! Anyways everything is a learning opportunity so I am currently reading Nervous Conditions by Tsitsi Dangarembga. Don’t be so surprised that I read fiction! Nervous Conditions is a valuable case study in cultural anthropology due to its rich exploration of themes related to post-colonial identity, gender, and cultural conflict. If you take my post-colonial anthropology module in September, this will definitely be on the further reading list. Come read with me! 📚 📚

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user1: are we sure this is the woman max is dating…

— user3: I was just wondering that, so out of left field 😭 😭

— user4: I mean what do they even have to talk about? She just lectures him all day?

lewishamilton: how can I take your class if I’m not enrolled in the university?? 🤨🤨

— peopleplacesthings: you can’t! Hope this helps

— user5: jeez she’s so rude…

— user9: who does she think she is????

— peopleplacesthings: Dr. Y/n Y/ln that’s who I know I am

user11: so is anthropology all she talks about, or does she have hobbies…

— peopleplacesthings: I happen to think my field of anthropology; the study of societies, people and culture, is quite interesting. But no I am a person I contain multitudes anthropology is not all I talk about.

user6: not y’all invalidating a woman with a literal doctorate just because she MIGHT be dating your fav… pls touch grass

— user13: that’s what I’m saying! If anything she’s WAY out of Max’s league, hasn’t he only ever read like 2 books?? (liked by danielricciardo)

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peopleplacesthings: We DTR’ed!!

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lewishamilton: DTR?

— peopleplacesthings: Define the Relationship apparently

— lewishamilton: my how the tables have turned, miss I don’t date drivers.

— peopleplacesthings: DR* I don’t date drivers. And what can I say my commitment issues are no match for Max Verstappen

danielricciardo: you’re welcome!

— user4: what could you possible have done

— danielricciardo: I told max to grow some balls that’s what! I’m the architect of this relationship

— peopleplacesthings: you and Lewis can fight over that title

maxverstappen1: WE DTR’ED!!!!

— peopleplacesthings: hell yeah we did!

maxverstappen1: I love you schat ❤️💙

— peopleplacesthings: 🥹 I love you too

you doofus

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maxverstappen1: Did it hurt when you fell from your culture’s dogmatic view of an afterlife?

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peopleplacesthings: I think that’s the sexiest thing anyone has ever said to me

— maxverstappen1: there’s more where that came from

— peopleplacesthings: oh shucks not in public maxie

— danielricciardo: this is the weirdest foreplay I’ve ever witnessed

user14: how did a man that drives in circles manage to bag my anthro professor??

— user16: shouldn’t that be the other way round???

— user14: if you ever attended one of her lectures and saw her in action you would know the answer to that question is absolutely not (liked by maxverstappen1)

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• TAGLIST

@forevercaffeinated-lee

@callsignwidow

@a-beaverhausen

@emryb

@c0deincrazy

@dontworryaboutitokie

@c-losur3

@chuxk-lerclerk

@silkenthusiasts

@ietss

@sp1rl

#f1 smau #formula 1 smau #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula one smau #max verstappen x black!reader #max verstappen smau #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fic #max verstappen x female reader

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foxglovebells · 2 months ago

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Lost Star (Part 5)

Azriel x Rhysand!Sister Reader

Summary: Rhys’s mother and sister, Y/n, were kidnapped and murdered by Tamlin’s family centuries ago. Everyone mourned their deaths but especially Azriel. His mate’s death had changed him and he was never truly the same, he still held onto the hope that you were still alive. Turns out he was right.

Warnings: None really, just a tad bit of angst

Notes: Hi all it’s been a bit… only 1 year and 5 months since the last part! Forgive any typos this was a spur of the moment decision. Enjoy!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

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Azriel insisted on carrying you yet again. You knew that if you pushed hard enough he would allow you to winnow the both of you, but it had been a long and cruel 2 centuries without each other. So you let him cradle you close to him, your head against his shoulder and your hand against his heart.

The steady rythmique pattern was reassuring. Each beat was calm and steady, and the rise and fall of his chest felt secure. You were safe.

You were safe.

You kept repeating it in your head, worries of the unknown faded in and out of your conscious, usually gone when in the presence of your mate, but still there none the less.

I mean, the unknown is what had gotten you trapped in the first place, how could you ever be sure of anything ever again?

As if sensing your racing thoughts, Azriel tilts his head and places a kiss on your forehead, once again chasing away the worry.

“I love you.” You whisper, looking up at him through innocent eyes.

“I love you, little star.”

That was all that could be said before he was landing on the steps of the radiant palace of day. Guards on pegasus’s lined the area, watching the both of you with calculating eyes, but making no move to stop you.

You began to notice everything immediately. Your talent of observation shooting out and picking up on every detail.

The subtle raise of the head guards brows before he schooled his faced once again. He recognized you from before.

The guard above on the balcony turning to leave the second Azriel’s presence was registered. To notify Helion.

The uneasy glances between some of the guards. They could feel the power radiating from you and Az.

The guard opened the large double doors, signaling your approved entrance. An alliance, seems like your brother was doing a rather good job at being high lord.

Azriel rested a hand on your lower back as you both began to ascend the steps towards the entrance.

The grand entrance was certainly grand, you thought humorously. Helion sure had a knack for gold and extravagances.

Walking along the hallway, you took note of all the many statues and paintings decorating the wall, but you stopped short in front of one of them.

It was a large painting, taking up the entirely of the area in its section. Framed in thick gold swirls, it was set in a garden, one of the royal ones behind this very palace. A gazebo in the background covered in climbing wisteria vines in full bloom, and a table set for tea. The foreground, however, had a simple white bench. But atop that bench was as a young woman lying horizontal across it, one leg was bent while the other lay resting straight beside it. One arm was resting on her stomach while the other was holding an open book in the air above her to shade her eyes from the sun.

And she was laughing. A stomach laugh. One that causes all of the muscles in your body to tense up. One that hits you so hard your eyes are squeezed shut, tears leaking from the corners. One where your smile is so wide that every single tooth is on display and your face is hurting from the strain.

You smiled lightly as you gazed up the piece of artwork. “That’s me.” tears sprung to your eyes as you recalled the moment. It was a day you have travelled to the day court alone. Meeting with Helion on urgent business, your book club date. You used the word ‘date’ loosely, he had been one of your closest friends, never crossing that boundary out of respect for the mate that stood by your side.

“It is.” Azriel replies with a smile as he gazes at the canvas version of you. “I stared at it for hours the first time I saw it after he had had it made.”

“When?” Your curiosity showed.

“Had been nearly 5 years after you were gone.” He struggled out. “Helion and Rhys worked together. Rhys took the memory from Helion and showed it to the artist, who recreated it.” Azriel reached out and ran a finger along the side of your face. “Though it never really did your beauty full justice, no matter how hard the artist it was never perfect.”

He leaned down and kissed you softly. Before you could reciprocate it, a loud bang was heard from the grand dining room, where the meeting was being held.

You pulled away and grinned slyly at your mate.

“Stop it, I don’t like that look,” He remarked playfully. “What are you planning.”

“Are you ready for our grand entrance, Azzy?”

“I don’t think I’m ever ready when you cause trouble, little star.” He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear before pulling away and squaring his shoulders. “Alright, y/n, lead the way.”

“Oh no no no, my love, walking straight through the door is never grand enough.” You twirled around and looked at the glass doors out to a balcony. “You go on in Az, pretend you never saw me. Rhys can do a little bit of worrying, just ignore him I won’t be long.”

With a nod Az turned to do as you told him, knowing that you were strong and capable, and you deserved to have a little fun after what you had been through, not that he’d have been able to change your mind anyway. It was easier for him to just let whatever you wanted to happen happen.

Azriel walked to the doors leaded into the grand dining room. They were closed with 2 guards standing on either side to prevent outsiders from entering.

As the guards prepared to open the door to allow him in, he turned back to see where y/n was standing only to see that she was no longer there. Only, the once closed door to the balcony was now ajar, and the curtains were blowing in the wind.

As the doors were pushed open. The chatter in the room ceased as everyone swiveled their heads to see who had entered in the middle of meeting between the most powerful fae in prythian.

“Ah, Shadowsinger!” Helion stood from his place at the head of the table and walked over to where he had just walked in. “Lovely that you could make it.” He held his hand out for Azriel to shake and his took it firmly out of respect.

A simple head nod was all Helion received before Azriel made his way towards His place beside Cassian, standing behind where his high lord and high lady were seated.

He was slightly grateful for the seating arrangement, for it ensured that Rhys could not look at him with questioning eyes. He could feel the scratching talons along his mental shields, but he only let them in long enough to say ‘not now’ , and shutting his shield down and locking the talons out.

He could see Rhys tense in his chair, knowing that he had taken his shortness for bad news. That thought was justified when he saw Feyre lay her hand on his beneath the table for support. He hated having to do this to his high lord, but it was what y/n wanted, and she would always be above anyone else.

Breaking everyone’s attention off Azriel, Tamlin cuts in, “Looks like your dog did heel after all, didn’t he, Rhysand?”

“Cut the crap, Tamlin, do you have to start shit every year?” Feyre snaps before anyone else gets the chance to respond.

“Now,” Helions voice cuts in before more comments can be made. “We are here to discuss politics, not your dramatics, Tamlin.” He walks around the table, opting to grab a drink from the bar rather than taking his seat once again at the head of the table.

“Truly, Tamlin, do you have anything better to do than make every else’s life miserable to be around you.” Bingo. There she was. The commanding purr of her voice sent shivers down everyone’s spine. The infamous night princess who had been dead for centuries was suddenly sat before them all at the head of the table.

Azriel takes a deep breath to hide his smirk and he looks proudly at his mate, who sat tall and confident it the large chair, where Helion once sat.

Her braid was pulled over one shoulder and her wings were neatly tucked behind her back, the epitome of grace and power.

If Azriel had once thought the room was silent he sure was wrong before. The buzz of magic and terror filled the room as each notable person in prythian set eyes on the long lost princess of the night court. Who was supposed to be dead.

She stood suddenly, the chair screeching backwards at the force. Everyone but the night court flinched at the sound of her hands slamming against the ornate table. “Cat got your tongue, Tamlin?” She spewed evilly. The high lords grew incredibly still and y/n glided away from the chair that she had magically appeared in, making her way to walk around the table teasingly.

Each and every person in the room was on the edge of their seats, afraid that if they moved the temper of her would find itself at their mercy. The only 2 people who were more powerful than the high lords in prythian were in the same room at the same time for the first time in centuries. The night court son and daughter had always been a force to be reckoned with. But once y/n had disappeared, so did a piece of the their fear.

Seems they got it back.

“You’re dead!” Beron. The first to break the silence and the first to regret his choice as Y/n’s head whips in his direction.

“Am I?” She unsheathes two knives in the blink of an eye, and in another, they’re flying across the table at the same table and embedding themselves into Beron’s hands. Pinning them face down on the wooden table

That seems to break the silence.

#acotar #azriel #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel x you #rhysand sister #feyre

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notlongtolove · 4 months ago

Text

away from home

you tried to focus, really you did, as introductions were made but the the air, heavy with expectation, proved to be too distracting. instead, you stood quietly as the introductions were tossed around, nodding politely, offering a smile where you could, silently trying to piece together who was who and how you fit into all of this. this work is part of the little red cap series

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: flangst?

content: mentions of crime scenes and blood. lit student reader meets the team as she helps them understand poems leading to a startling discovery.

word count: 3.5k

note: thank you for all the love on part 1! i hope you enjoy part 2! please exercise a willing suspension of disbelief... #imjstagirl

a line: “Reid,” Hotch’s voice cut through the silence, calm but with an unmistakable sharpness, “You brought her in without briefing her?” The disbelief in his tone was clear.

The wolf, I knew, would lead me deep into the woods Away from home, to a dark tangled thorny place Lit by the eyes of owls. I crawled in his wake My stockings ripped to shreds, scraps of red from my blazer Snagged on twig and branch, murder clues. I lost both shoes - carol ann duffy

The glass facade of the FBI headquarters gleamed intimidatingly in the cold of the morning light—too polished, too perfect. You tugged awkwardly at your sleeves as you stepped through the doors following closely behind Spencer.

Inside was cooler than you thought it would be, though that made sense. Spencer had warned you without warning you, really—his rows of sweater vests and cardigans, each more sensible than the last, each dripping with practicality, had spoken for him.

Your turtleneck—cream, plain, nothing remarkable—had seemed like the right choice this morning, though now you felt absurd for caring. It was a little something you’d like to call the ‘Yes, I study literature, and yes, this is my life’s work, but if I get a detail wrong and someone else dies, please don’t throw me in jail’ look. Somehow it felt like the best you could manage under the circumstances.

The elevator ride was a tense, quiet affair. For a moment, neither of you spoke, till his fingers brushed yours—timid, tentative. A flicker of the timid Spencer you’d met many months ago—a nervous presence in the corner of a book club, flipping through pages with a reverence you still found endearing. The same Spencer who’d spent weeks tiptoeing around conversations about book spines and hardcovers, so cautious and shy, that you’d eventually asked him out yourself.

Today though, you’re the one on edge.

“You’re nervous,” he observed softly. "Don't be."

“Wow, Sherlock, how’d you crack that one?"

His quiet laugh melted some of the tension, and he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. You tried for a small smile, but you were certain it came out as more of a grimace. Sensing your apprehension, he pressed on.

“They’re only going to ask a few questions after you’re done,” he said, his thumb brushing light, soothing circles against the back of your hand. “I’ll be there the whole time.” Before you could reply, the elevator stopped, doors sliding open with a quiet hiss.

One last squeeze, then his hand slipped from yours.

The bullpen—Spencer called it that once, you remembered—wasn’t what you’d imagined either. It was smaller, somehow, though not cramped. Papers stacked high on desks, smell of coffee lingering in the air. Maybe even a little quaint, albeit no less intimidating. A blonde woman by one of the desks looked up at the sound of your footsteps. She smiled, quick and warm.

“Hey, Spence.”

Oh. You didn’t know they called him that too.

Before her gaze could settle on you, Spencer stepped forward, the two of them exchanging in hushed conversation. You hung back, trying not to look as lost as you felt, your eyes roaming over the room as fragments of their conversation drifted your way.

“They’re all in there,” the woman said, jerking her head toward a nearby door.

“And the photos? I don’t want her seeing—”

“Took them down this morning. They’re only in the briefs.”

“Right, okay. Thanks, JJ.”

Spencer glanced over his shoulder at you then, a hint of something soft in his eyes before his expression shut down again, unreadable. “Let’s go.”

You managed a shaky exhale, pressing your lips into a tight line. Now or never, you thought.

The meeting room was dim, suffocating in its stillness. Blinds drawn, a table littered with files and mugs of what you assumed to be coffee—some half-empty, their rims stained. Names were exchanged, though too quick to catch. You tried to focus, really you did, as introductions were made but the the air, heavy with expectation, proved to be too distracting. Instead, you stood quietly as the introductions were tossed around, nodding politely, offering a smile where you could, silently trying to piece together who was who and how you fit into all of this.

It wasn’t until the blonde lady, who you now knew as JJ, spoke up again that your focus snapped back into place.

“...and she’ll be joining us for this case,” she said, gesturing toward you.

A man—Derek, you thought—grinned, leaning back in his chair. “As Pretty Boy’s plus one, or...?” he asked, his tone teasing.

Pretty boy? That’s a new one.

“Morgan,” the man at the head of the table cut in—sharp, commanding. That would be Hotch, you assumed.

Spencer’s answer came swiftly, without hesitation, “As a consultant.”

“And how exactly did you come across this... consultant, Reid?” A dark-haired woman purred. Her tone was light but edged with teasing curiosity. It was evident in the way her smile glinted, playful, though the man—Hotch, you were certain now—shot her a look that suggested restraint.

“At a bookclub,” you smiled, the words coming out steadier than you’d expected. It was a feeble attempt to navigate the tension or rather, to just get through it. Say something, say anything. It reminded you of school, moments when you’d latch onto the simplest question with the most straightforward answer just to feel like you were part of the conversation.

“Book club,” the woman echoed, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Of course.”

“Reid,” Hotch said, drawing all attention back to the task at hand. “If you’d both like to start.”

“Yes, please,” Spencer said, the words slipping out a little quicker than he probably intended. “Garcia is the—”

“Pulling it up right now!” the redhead interrupted brightly. “All three Duffy poems annotated and transcribed as you requested—coming on the big screen in…”

You watched as she typed furiously for a moment before pushing a button. “Now!”, she finished.

Just like that, the familiar words flashed across the screen, casting the room in a soft, muted glow. “Printed yours on classic paper just for you, boy genius,” Garcia chirped, nodding toward the neatly arranged file in front of Spencer. He shot her a small, grateful smile. And while you made a mental note to ask him about the nicknames later, you couldn’t help but think how easy she—Garcia, you heard Spencer say—was to like.

The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly. The entire team seemed to sit straighter, their attention sharpening as the poems appeared on the screen. You forced yourself to meet their collective gaze, suddenly hyper-aware of every movement.

“Well—” you began, standing slowly, but the word caught in your throat.

Taking a step forward, you willed yourself to focus, but the moment quickly faltered when your foot caught on a loose wire. The stumble was embarrassing as it was fast—awkward and ungraceful. Before you could even think about catching yourself, Spencer’s hands were there, steadying you with a firm grip around your waist. If you hadn’t been blushing already, you definitely were now.

It was—compromising, to say the least.

it was also impossible to ignore the subtle ripple of awareness that swept through the room. When you finally settled back into your chair—deciding that yes, sitting was definitely the better option—the awkward tangle of fingers and gestures only made it worse.

“Maybe I need to join a book club,” an older man teased, mock seriousness hiding his amusement. The flush on both your cheeks and Spencer’s was hard to miss.

Your cough broke the tension. “Right, um, well,” you said again, this time striving for steadiness. “I guess—Uh, I’ll start with the overall themes of the poems.” You winced internally as the words came out more like a question than a statement. Spencer met your eyes with a small, encouraging smile. You took a deep breath, grounding yourself.

Turning toward the screen, you were more than thankful for the familiar cadence the poems provided, a welcome anchor amidst your nerves. “Each of these poems,” you managed, your voice gradually finding its strength, “They explore different facets of longing, connection, and disconnection. They’re unified by Duffy’s ability to convey intimacy in a way that feels both personal and universal.” You shifted slightly, gesturing toward a specific line. “Her use of metaphors—like here in the second stanza of Warming Her Pearls—is subtle but evocative.

Spencer’s gaze didn’t leave you. You clung to his silent reassurance as you pressed on. “Note here, the words: ‘Slack on my neck, her rope.’ All three poems carry this underlying theme of violence—sometimes concealed, sometimes blatant.”

“Except in the last note.” Spencer added. You nodded fervently in agreement.

“All alone. Little Red Cap. There’s nothing subtle about it anymore. The violence in there is raw and deliberate,” You continued, glancing back at the screen. “As he slept, one chop, scrotum to throat, and saw. The glistening, virgin white of my grandmother’s bones.” You quoted the lines onscreen. “She’s angry. Vengeful, even.”

“It’s a significant escalation.” The older gentleman noted. Rossi, you ventured to guess.

“Right. The shift from subtle tension to overt aggression isn’t just thematic anymore.” Spencer added. “It mirrors the unsub’s own behavior in the crimescenes.”

Derek’s chair creaked as he leaned back, his arms folding thoughtfully across his chest. “And we’re thinking these poems are, what, a roadmap? A way to track how she’s falling apart?”

You hesitated, considering the question. “I wouldn’t necessarily say they’re a map, they’re not a reflection of her so much as an extension of her unraveling,” you said slowly. “We use this term often—It’s almost like a manifestation of how the violence is spilling out, consuming her.”

You glanced up at them, searching their faces for understanding. Hotch gave a subtle nod of approval, eyes fixed on the screen.

“And what’s most compelling,” you continued with growing confidence, easing the conversation back into analysis, “is how Duffy’s structure mirrors this emotional push-and-pull. For example, the enjambment here mirrors a lack of closure, a yearning that doesn’t quite resolve.” You point to another stanza, drawing attention to the jagged rhythm of the lines. “The abrupt stops and starts in her verse mirror a loss of control—”

“Sorry, enjamb—what?” Derek tilted his head, the unfamiliar term halting his question halfway.

“Enjambment,” Spencer interjected smoothly. “It’s when a line of poetry flows into the next without a pause or punctuation.”

The woman with dark hair—Emily, you learned—leaned forward, her brow furrowed as she studied the stanza on the screen, absentmindedly toying with a pencil in her hands. “So you’re saying the way the lines break—how they don’t resolve—it’s deliberate. It’s supposed to feel... incomplete?”

Spencer nodded again, eager to explain. “Yes, exactly. It’s a structural choice to keep the reader moving forward without any pauses.”

“Actually…” You paused, then glanced at him with a sheepish smile. “Yes and no. It’s not just about the movement. It’s also about the unresolved feeling it creates. The lines break without closure on purpose. It sheds light on the emotional chaos the speaker is experiencing.”

The room went quiet for a beat, everyone turning toward Spencer, who seemed momentarily taken aback.

“Well,” Rossi broke the pause with a dry laugh, “This is a first.”

Spencer blinked, surprised, then chuckled softly. “I guess I stand corrected.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “Don’t worry, Spence. We all have our moments.”

“Correcting Reid and cracking jokes?” Derek said, his tone teasing, “Oh, I like her already.” At that, even Hotch let out the faintest hints of a smile.

Once you found your footing, it was surprisingly easy to keep the momentum going, almost as if you were back in one of the classes you’d TA-ed for—a familiar, comfortable flow. It came with a blur of of questions, some serious, others lighter. That line, she meant it literally? No, Derek, we don’t know if Carol Ann Duffy actually gave her lover a real onion for Valentine’s Day. And yes, Garcia, I wouldn’t be too pleased either if that was my gift. Spencer’s gaze met yours time and time again. His smile was a little fuller, more open, and—dare you think it—proud.

As the meeting wound down, Spencer’s focus remained on you. You were speaking with Hotch by his office, nodding intently at whatever he it was he was saying. Spencer leaned slightly back against the doorway, arms crossed loosely, eyes following your movements. Even when Hotch’s phone buzzed, cutting the discussion short and pulling him away, Spencer’s gaze lingered on you.

“She really knows her stuff, huh?” JJ said softly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Garcia leaned forward, eyes sparkling with approval. “Oh, I adore her,” she declared with trademark enthusiasm. “Smart, funny—Spencer Reid, how on earth have you been keeping her under wraps?”

Emily quirked a brow, her smirk teasing. “Hey Reid, remind me again which book club this was? Might have to drop by myself.”

Spencer barely shifted, barely acknowledged their teasing. They’d caught him mid-thought, and his response was subtle but telling—a smile he didn’t bother to suppress.

“Pretty too,” JJ mouthed quietly, eyebrows raised, giving Spencer a playful thumbs-up as Hotch called her over with a sharp nod. She offered you a small smile as she passed you.

When you finally crossed the room to where they were standing, Spencer straightened, taking a step closer to meet you halfway. The fondness in his eyes was a quiet but telling softness that gave him away entirely. He couldn’t hide it even if he tried to—The way his expression softened as he watched you was answer enough.

“Hey, you,” he greeted, his voice softer now, his hands sliding into his pockets as you stopped in front of him.

“Hey,” you replied, your smile mirroring his.

“You did great in there,” he said, his eyes holding yours.

You tilted your head slightly, your smile playful. “You think so?”

“I know so.” Spencer’s lips twitched into a small, lopsided grin, his tone carrying just the faintest touch of humor. Before you could roll your eyes at his cheesiness, he added, “No, seriously. Hotch had that smile—you don’t want to know what happened to the last consultant who didn’t impress him.”

You leaned in conspiratorially, lowering your voice. “He called me by my last name and all. That’s good, right?”

“Oh, most definitely,” Spencer chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “That’s basically your official BAU initiation,” he said, earning a laugh from you in response.

Nearby, Garcia and Emily exchanged knowing glances, their collective amusement barely concealed. There was an ease between the two of you everyone could see—comfortable in all the right ways.

“I’ll see you tonight?” you asked, leaning a little closer, your voice dropping into something almost private. “We can order in.” Spencer opened his mouth to respond, but Hotch’s sharp tone cut through the air.

“Reid. Meeting room. Now.”

Spencer’s head snapped toward Hotch instinctively, but not before he casted a glance toward you, worry etched faintly in the crease of his brow. Hotch’s gaze was intense, brows furrowed in a way that signaled urgency. JJ was close behind him, her own face taut with concern. Before Spencer could speak, Hotch’s eyes flicked toward you.

“Both of you.”

Spencer’s expression shifted instantly, his lips parting as though to say something else in protest, but the force in Hotch’s tone left no room for delay. Without a word, you followed them into the meeting room, Spencer falling into step beside you. He brushed his shoulder lightly against yours, just for a second—a brief moment of reassurance—before stepping ahead to hold the door open.

JJ wasted no time. She set the tone with her first words.

“The last note we received wasn’t the last crime,” she began, her tone marked by an undercurrent of urgency, “It was the first.”

The room fell into a stunned silence for a moment, then erupted into a flurry of questions.

“How the hell did that happen?” Emily asked, breaking the silence. Her tone was sharp, impatient.

Hotch’s jaw tightened as he replied grimly. “Pathology assumed the timeline was linear because the crime scenes were discovered only a day apart. But the toxicology report just came back—trace amounts of formaldehyde were found in the last one. Enough that it went unnoticed at first.”

“Preservation,” Spencer murmured, his brow furrowing. “The unsub kept the body.”

“So everything we’ve been assuming about the escalation—it’s off?” Derek asked frustratingly as he ran a hand down his face. “If the last note was actually the first crime, then we’ve been looking at this all wrong.”

You watched as Spencer leaned forward slightly, nodding in agreement. “The progression isn’t linear.”

“That changes everything,” Rossi said, “If this is just the beginning, then the escalation’s going to happen a hell of a lot faster.”

“That puts Warner first, doesn’t it?” Emily asked, “She was found along the trail off Route 74. So, that would mean her note is ‘All alone.’ Which poem was that from again?” she added, turning to you for clarification.

“Little Red Cap,” Spencer answered, finishing the thought for you.

“Who’s Warner?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it. As soon as the words left your mouth, you knew it was the wrong move. The room went unnervingly still, every pair of eyes shifting toward you.

For a moment, no one spoke. Hotch stopped mid-motion, his hand hovering over his face as if he had been expecting this but still couldn’t quite believe it. He let out a long, measured sigh, the tension in the room discernable.

“Reid,” Hotch’s voice cut through the silence, calm but with an unmistakable sharpness, “You brought her in without briefing her?” The disbelief in his tone was clear.

Spencer froze, his posture stiffening, a mix of surprise and guilt flashing across his face. He opened his mouth, hesitated, then tried again. “I—uh,” he stammered, clearly flustered. “I thought— I thought it wasn’t necessary because—”

Hotch raised a hand, effectively silencing him with just a glance. “JJ,” Hotch added, his tone expectant. Without another word, she slid a case file across the table toward you. It was a clear, unspoken message. There was no turning back now. You were in this—whether Spencer liked it or not.

Hotch’s gaze softened ever so slightly when he turned to you, the reprimand fading from his tone. “Take your time. I understand it’s a lot to process.” You swallowed nervously and managed a small nod.

Hotch’s eyes flicked back to Spencer, narrowing slightly. “You know better,” he said, the reproach lingering in his gaze. Your heart tightened as Spencer winced visibly, his lips pressing together in an almost imperceptible sign of distress. His usually composed demeanor seemed completely undone, now clearly as rattled as you by the situation.

The team continued their discussion, voices overlapping in a controlled urgency as you turned your focus to the case file. The photos stared back at you, streaked with deep crimson, each image more brutal than the last. You flipped through the pages with bated breath as you fought to process the sheer violence of it.

Three crime scenes. Three murders. Three bodies.

Joni Munroe.

Nicole Jayson.

Eleanor Warner.

All women in their twenties. Young. Living alone. All stabbed.

A waitress. A dog walker. A student.

"Was there a connection between the—the victims?" you asked, the words awkwardly halting as they left your lips. It was a struggle to piece together the overwhelming flood of information let alone find the effort to form a coherent question. God, how does Spencer do this everyday?

JJ answered you, as if she’d been expecting the question. “They all attended Virginia West University,” she said, her tone steady. “But none of them had any ties to each other. Warner was the only current student. The rest had graduated, different years, different classes.”

You nodded slowly, trying to offer her a small, understanding smile. The room buzzed continued to buzz around you as Derek broke through the haze, his voice charged. “Babygirl, check reports for any bodies found in the past 48 hours.”

Babygirl? Okay, you definitely had to ask Spencer about the nicknames later. For now, it was a welcome distraction though, momentarily diverting your attention away from the unsettling splotches of maroon staining the photos in front of you.

“Bodies? No, the unsub wouldn’t have acted that fast,” Spencer corrected, his tone almost automatic. “Check for missing persons instead.”

Rossi didn’t miss a beat, nodding sharply. “Garcia, cross-reference recent missing persons reports. Check for females.”

“On it,” Garcia said, her fingers already flying across the keyboard. The clacking of keys filled the momentary silence. “Okay,” she said after a pause, her voice tight with focus. “I’ve got two reports from the last 48 hours. Marsha Williams, 63, homemaker, retired professor. And Jeanine Wayland, 26, worked at a gas station.”

“Wayland—She fits the profile,” Emily said, leaning in toward the glowing screen. “Young, low-income job. Garcia, do we know if she was from Virgina West too?”

“Give me a second.” Garcia’s voice was tight with focus as her fingers flew across the keyboard.

A shift stirred within you. If the last note was really the first, the team was right. It redefined everything. Little red cap. Your mind raced back to your conversation with Spencer last night. The wolf symbolized someone older, predatory. They were students, weren’t they? Yes—all three of them.

You swallowed. “Um, Garcia?” you asked hesitantly, your voice wavering slightly as the weight of the room’s focus pressed in on you. “Marsha Williams—what university did she teach at?”

There was a brief pause, the rapid tap of Garcia’s fingers on the keyboard filling the silence. “Hold on, let me check… okay, it says here she received the Action Teaching Award, Long service awards, 10 years, 20 years—Wanna bet she makes it to 30?"

"Garcia," Hotch said warningly.

"Sorry, sorry, and 25 years—all at—” Garcia's voice faltered, a sharp intake of breath following.

“Words, babygirl,” Derek prodded gently.

When she finally replied, her voice was taut with unease.

“All at Virginia West University.”

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x reader comfort

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genericpuff · 4 months ago

Note

rereading the og LO pisses me off bc why did Hestia take Kore’s coat??!! The Minthe plant situation, but as a side note Eros + Psyche was such a beautiful story in the beginning. Also do you plan on giving Hermes a partner?

OH so that's actually sorta explained in the physical books, there's a bonus chapter in Volume 2 that tries to make sense of it.

Frankly, like most of the bonus episodes, it doesn't really do a good job of filling in plotholes or logical inconsistencies, for a few reasons:

1.) I think it's wild that this episode was supposed to explain Hestia's cruelty in taking the coat (Rachel even addresses this in the author's note leading into the episode) but then Hestia is still kind of an irresponsible asshole when she just IMMEDIATELY starts infodumping to Apollo, completely unprompted, about how Persephone is the newest initiate in her virgin club. Like it's just bad writing for starters because it's clear Rachel's just trying to get the 'plot' of the episode rolling, but it's also like... wasn't this group supposed to be about protecting women from men? Why is she volunteering that information so enthusiastically? 💀 I get it's kind of a nitpick but it still kind of made me go "huh???" because it's frankly just none of Apollo's business as both a man and a non-member and there's just zero reason why Hestia should be releasing that kind of information publicly, especially when it's regarding such a sensitive and personal topic like virginity. Like was there seriously NO BETTER WAY for someone as "conniving" as Apollo to find out this info?? He didn't even intimidate or weasel the info out of her, she just started fucking spilling on her own 😭😆

2.) I don't know why Hestia just immediately took Apollo's word on what he "saw" and opted to go along with his idea to "punish her" which somehow led to the decision to take the coat. He doesn't specifically say to do that, sure, but it's clear she's taking his word over Persephone's literally IMMEDIATELY when she even says aloud that it's out of character for Persephone, and even after getting Persephone's side of the story in that episode where she confronts her, she still takes the coat ???

This is another one of those "where is the feminism???" issues because even with the bonus episode included all we get is "men are evil and awful!" despite the fact that Hestia is a grown ass woman who should be capable of making her own sound judgments. Like where was Hestia's OWN AGENCY that she could have used to decide Persephone was telling the truth about what really happened ??? It's obviously just another opportunity to villainize Apollo which, sure, okay, he's been established as a scumbag rapist at this point so he's undeniably a villain, but... why is Hestia not listening to Persephone at all? And then if that was supposed to be the point, why wasn't that actually addressed in the comic which was still ongoing at the time? Hestia didn't even have the nerve to bring the coat back to Persephone herself, it was Artemis who returned it to her in the end. So we never even get a proper resolution to Hestia's actions, she never apologizes to Persephone, she never takes accountability for her own mistakes in trusting Persephone's rapist over her (which is unfortunately something that happens a lot in these kinds of situations and would have been great to address in a story that's actually trying to be "feminist") and ultimately she just never grows as a character despite having such a direct impact on the main cast.

3.) What was the point of this bonus chapter, exactly? Like I guess we sorta know why Hestia took the coat now (if we don't take ANY of what I addressed above into account) but it doesn't explain at all why that was the decision, nor does it end up affecting the overall plot because Persephone still winds up working in the Underworld, she still spends a shitload of time with Hades, and Hestia is nowhere to be seen, despite the fact that she knows at this point through Apollo that Persephone has interacted with him. How does smugly taking the coat from a 19 year old girl who was recently force fed alcohol to the point of blacking out and then dumped in Hades' car address the original problem that was brought to her attention via Apollo? Despite the bonus episodes being used as a way to "patch up" holes in the narrative, it still doesn't really explain anything, it kinda just raises more questions than it answers.

(*I'll even add real quick that Rachel's apparent reasoning in her author's notes for these bonus chapters not being included in the comic is often so silly because the comic itself is full of so much pointless filler and nonsense that goes nowhere, while the actual important explanations get shoved into the back end of the physical books. It's incredibly backwards and tells me less that these were "deleted scenes" and more that they were attempts to backtrack on Rachel's own poor writing, with the added benefit of making money off it to boot due to these otherwise essential scenes and bits of information being exclusive to the physical books. Many "bonus episodes" feel more like they should have been in the comic and so many canon episodes that got published feel like they could have been bonus episodes. Again, at best, it's bad writing and bad editing, so much so that apparently even Rachel can't fully stand by her decisions because she can't "decide" if these bonus episodes are canon or not.)

4.) Yet another case of "the worst guy ever just made a good point" because even though Apollo's doing it for nefarious, self-centered reasons, he's not wrong that it was extremely concerning for Persephone to spend the night at Hades' place, and that's made worse by the fact that we know Persephone wound up telling her side of the story just for Hestia to punish her anyways. Unfortunately because Apollo has to be Bryce from 13 Reasons Why, the only angle he's coming at it from is "YEAH YOU BETTER GET REVENGE ON PERSEPHONE FOR DOING THAT!!! SHE'S SUCH A SLUT!!!", but there's a whole other separate angle here that his villainy is distracting us from, an angle that actually WOULD have accomplished the subjects of feminism that LO claimed to be tackling and failed at - why was Persephone put into that situation in the first place?

There's never any real consequence to Eros for intentionally getting Persephone blackout drunk and dumping her in Hades' car. There aren't any real consequences to Aphrodite for targeting a girl who did nothing but exist. There aren't any real consequences to Hades for offending Aphrodite within earshot by comparing her to a 19 year old girl who he just spent several minutes oggling through a window. The only one who's actually allowed to suffer consequences is the easily identifiable rapist character, because anyone who knows what sex is knows that Rape is Bad, but no one actually wants to identify and discuss all the other terrible actions and characters within this story - including the leading man who's supposed to be "perfect" for Persephone - because those actions are a lot more subtle and normalized and aren't capable of being consumed easily within a single tweet.

It's a no-brainer to understand "rape is bad"; it takes a lot more self-reflection and honesty with yourself - especially if you're part of LO's core demographic of both young teenage girls and middle aged women - to recognize that Hades and Persephone's relationship is predatory right from the start, and that being a feminist doesn't mean exclusively caring about 'good' women and punishing the 'bad' ones.

#sorry that turned into an essay LOL it's been a whileee #p.s. idk if Hermes will have a partner by the end of rekindled #this isn't his story LOL but we'll see #anti lore olympus #lore olympus critical #lo critical

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lunarsilver · 5 months ago

Text

How will you meet your next partner?

I've got a new deck and so I had to use it! Here's a short Lenormand reading.

REMEMBER

I’m not a doctor, a psychiatrist, a therapist nor a psychologist. Divination will never replace meetings with them.

It’s a general reading, so not everything will resonate.

If you can’t choose between two piles, probably both of them have some messages for you. You can also not identify with any of them, and that’s okay, too.

Readings can help you make a decision, but they shouldn’t be the main reason for making it.

1 ~ 2 ~ 3

4 ~ 5 ~ 6

PILE 1

Key - Anchor - Moon - Snake - Stork

Openness for stability grounds one’s feelings and evokes the desire to start anew.

With the Moon in the center, the main themes of this reading are predictably your fears and feelings. It’s more about your mindset than anything else. I feel like people here either had only short or casual relationships, or never dated. You’ll meet your next partner when you’ll be open to the possibility of starting a new cycle and want something durable and secure. This suggests it will be a long-term relationship.

PILE 2

Fish - Book - Heart - Woman - Sun

Wealth of knowledge makes the heart of a woman happy.

With the Heart in the center, the theme of this reading is, of course, love. We’re talking here about a romantic relationship. The Woman represents either you (if you are a girl/feminine) or your next partner. A lot of happiness comes from being well-read and well-informed. You’ll meet your next partner thanks to the abundance of your knowledge. Education is pretty important here.

PILE 3

Key - Cross - Ship - Crossroads - Bear

Liberation from rules and ideologies starts the journey of discovering the path to one’s own power.

Freedom. I have this word in my head while looking at the cards. With the Ship in the center, the theme of your reading is exploring your choices. After setting boundaries with a leader figure and making the painful choice between your responsibilities to this figure and your own freedom, you’ll start to choose what you think is right for you. That’s how you’ll meet your next partner - by becoming independent.

PILE 4

Bouquet - Owls - Mice - Anchor - Snake

(In the deck I use, there are two cards with the number 12 - Owls and Birds. I choose to interpret Birds more as gossip, anxiety and communication between a group of people, while Owls as more private, serious or intimate communication).

Flattering flirt weakens the fundamentals of desire.

Sooo, do I have people here who are currently in a relationship but feel like it is crumbling and start to think about finding another one? If so, someone will go after you while you’re still in this relationship, which even further will weaken your desire for your current partner, and you’ll get into a new relationship. You know, pile four, better come clean with your current partner as soon as possible and don’t drag it more than it’s needed.

If you’re single, I think you’ll have some situationship that will lead nowhere. Like, it’ll start so nice, some flirting and maybe even some deep conversations, but there are skeletons in the closet of that person; or maybe they’re just all talk, no action. You’ll meet your next partner after this situationship ends.

PILE 5

Sun - Ship - Mountain - Tower - Coffin

A happy journey is slowed down by an obstacle of dealing with one’s ego/loss/loneliness.

Just saying, I find it pretty interesting how mirroring cards have the same signs - Sun and Coffin are Diamonds (Earth), Ship and Tower are Spades (Air) and Mountain is a club (Fire).

The theme of your reading is overcoming an obstacle - only after dealing with it will you be able to meet your next partner. You were going through life smoothly, but here it is - a problem. I’m not sure which meaning of the Tower will fit you, but you’re either too arrogant and have to work on your character (most likely someone will call you out on this), you’ll lose something or someone, and only after grieving and moving on you’ll meet your next partner, or on the way to meeting your partner stands the need to be more social.

PILE 6

Garden - Anchor - House - Fish - Dog

Well-known social conventions value devotion.

With the House in the middle, the theme of your reading is tradition. You’ll meet your next partner the old-fashioned way, maybe at some party or through your family. This relationship will be approved by most people around you. You and your next partner will start out as friends, and from there, loyalty and support will grow. This will be most likely a long-term relationship, maybe even marriage.

#divination #pick a picture #pick a card #pick a card reading #cartomancy #general reading #tarot reading #free tarot reading #pick a pile #lenormand #love pac #pick a pile reading #future spouse reading

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