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onlinekitsune · 2 years

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Free Dinner: The Mammon Way

you know, i forgot people write unfinished things and update them as be.. so i am also gonna try that! not sure if anyone would want me to continue this but, if you do please let me know!! i hope you enjoy!! btw in my google doc’s this was called “right in front of my salad??”

It wasn’t often that you and Mammon had time, with just yourselves. Especially returning to the Devildom. It was hard to get one on one time, when all the demon brothers wanted your attention almost constantly. But today was your lucky day, just the two of you sneaked out undetected by anyone. It was nice just being alone with him, even if he was hesitant to fully admit it at first. You ran your fingers over his knuckles, as he continued to hold your hand even after running out of the house. He rolled his eyes in response, turning away so you wouldn’t see his bright red face. He didn’t know his ears gave him away.

“Um… now that we’re actually… alone. What do ya wanna do? We have the whole town to ourselves!” He grinned, swinging your hand along with his. Before you could respond, a growl interrupted. In this vast forest of trees it would have been terrifying if the growl wasn’t coming from you. You skipped breakfast in order to sleep in, which you regretted at this very moment. “We can always go to that restaurant I took you and Beel?”

“Oh! Ristorante Six! But… I didn’t bring my wallet? And… well… I know your situation with Goldie.” You smirked, poking at Mammon. Again his bright blue eyes circled around at your comment.

“Who said anything about paying?”

Your eyes widened, you knew that Mammon was pretty reckless and impulsive. You were dragged in the majority of his schemes ever since you made a pact with him. You were designated his partner in crime. Whether you liked it or not.

“You know, I didn’t expect you to be so brave to dine and dash. Especially if Lucifer heard of this, I think he’d maybe put your head on a pike.” You laughed, almost not believing his suggestion. That was until you saw his reaction. A slight confusion spilled onto him. He didn’t exactly explain his idea, but it was clear that was not it.

“O-Oh! Yeah, haha… um… that’s… right.” He muttered out. He scratched his neck, trying to turn away from you. Mainly out of embarrassment for not being on the same page. Your interest piqued, curious of what he really had planned. You leaned closer to him, squinting your eyes. “MC?”

Mammon tried backing up, but only to be met with your closeness once again. You leaned into him, leaving no room between you. “Yeah? Something tells me… that’s not what you were thinking.” You whispered, trailing your fingers along his bicep. “C’mon Mams, let me know what is really going on in your brain, hm?”

His face flustered, trying to avoid your gaze. But everywhere he tried to look, your face would peek in front of him. He groaned, trying not to give in. But once you grabbed his hands and rested your face on his chest while looking up at him, it was too difficult. “Okay! Okay! I guess I will tell ya” he sighed. “Your methods are so… cruel.” He hesitated, still unsure whether to tell you. “So… ya know. I was thinkin’… that maybe we could…” he hesitated again, before erupting into a flurry of words. “Possibly pretend that I’m proposin’ to you to get a free dinner… or somethin’ like that or whatever.”

After saying that he quickly shut his eyes, avoiding your visual response. He was too embarrassed admitting his very obvious feelings. You let out a small giggle. Though Mammon hated admitting his feelings, he was absolutely cute and somehow… pretty romantic? “I didn’t know you guys did that at the Devildom! Who am I to say no to a proposal and a free dinner!”

His eyes quickly opened, shocked by your response. Even though you didn’t hold anything back on him in regards to your feelings. Adding to that shock, you kissed him. “Wha! You can’t just..”

“Let’s go Mammon… My proposal and dinner await!” You exaggerated, tugging him along.

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lovekittylover12345 · 2 years

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A Surprise Encounter in Desert Sands

Hello there, to anyone who sees this! This post is about an alternate Undertale AU I just made up on the fly- it pertains to a vast, seemingly endless sprawling desert. I don’t know if much of anyone will even see this as my non reblogs can be quite barren, but if even one person is like “hey, this is pretty cool,” I’ll be like “thanks so much for liking it, why don’t you take like a gazillion more that I’ve been writing but just haven’t shared with anyone?”

Quite the interesting hypothetical scenario to be sure, I know. I just keep making all these little ideas, but aside from a particular, incredible amigo, (looking at you, @mrssansserif 🥹) I don’t have anyone to share these ideas with- and I must say, such a task can not be handled by one person alone- my dear friend has already heard countless ideas often enough that her head must have stars and even birds flying in circles around it!

So, if you see this and wouldn't mind seeing more, please let me know- I have at least 20 other tidbits, and that’s just what's in the doc I wrote this on, and what's only related to Undertale! Guys, I’m literally being flooded with ideas constantly- please save me T^T

Here’s the little story I wrote first so I don’t bore my potential audience, and then the potential plot details I came up with after- I’ll just let the little story I wrote before all of this speak for itself.

After meandering through these desert sands for so long, I’ve come to find the loneliness of such travel has stopped stinging as much as it used to. It still burns, to be sure, but the desert truly is a harsh place- and there is no room for such pity in my heart, even if for my own predicament- I must focus entirely on survival if I ever hope to live.

But, there come times when I wonder, as I wander across these shifting, seemingly eternal sands, what it would feel like to have a companion in this tiring trek.

Just what would it feel like to talk to another after so long?

Would I even be able to find my words?

Or would I be stuck, staring on at this hypothetical person, craving the interaction and yet be unable to act on my desire for affection and the want to hear the voice of another?

Whenever these thoughts enter my mind, it always leads to the same predictable questions…

Why am I here, in this desert? When did I start this perilous, never ending journey? Why does the sand seem to go on, for ever and ever?

And will I always be alone?

But… never did I think I would end up finding an answer in a place like this…

An oasis.

A massive, sprawling oasis that I only found after braving a vicious sandstorm that had torn at my skin and even my very soul- it made me question everything-

my convictions-

my fate-

my odd determination, even when I do not know why I continue to push forward-

but when I pushed past it all, I found that it was completely and utterly worth it.

Everything I had ever experienced up till this point suddenly came out of focus for the first time- for my vision came upon other people among the sprawling ferns growing on the banks of the no doubt cool, flowing water.

Although, I do not know if others would call them… people.

For, as soon as these two arrivals looked into my shocked eyes, I knew that they were not human.

For what human has bone for skin, and lights for eyes?

But to be sure, they did not seem to know what to think of me either- surely they must have felt the same as I felt looking at them as they did looking at me, given that they seemed to wear a shocked expression on their pale white faces- or at least, it seemed like shock to me.

To them, I must have looked quite odd, to be sure- clothes and shoes worn and torn from the vicious winds and bleached by the burning sun, jet black hair that trailed behind me, long and tangled, and brittle, dirty and horribly peeled skin from being ravaged by the open sky and sand, and then, to top it all off, red eyes, ones I’ve only ever seen while looking at my own misty reflection- all of it must have made me look like quite the gnarly beast.

What did they think I was when they first spotted me approaching from within the whirling dunes? Did they think me to be a demon, perhaps?

Or did they not believe in demons?

I could not say I knew what was going through their heads at their time- at least, not before asking them outright.

But I can say that they surely did not know what was going through my head at that moment.

Because I was truly thinking the strangest of things.

Finally.

Finally!

I’m not alone anymore!

Who else would have been happy to see odd creatures with bony hands like those found on a long dead corpse- ones that looked like a corpse long since perished came alive once again?

But really, can one blame me?

Can someone find it in their heart to blame me for my odd first thoughts, given that they likely have never experienced the same things before?

But still, even if others thought me odd, I would still be inclined to agree. I would not blame anyone for thinking of someone who has wandered these sprawling sands long enough to see stars shift in their places up in the night sky as ‘odd.’

For someone who has lived that long and yet does not know much of anything- about themselves or about anything else- only knowing how to scavenge a bounty from the sands made up of cactus and various odd critters- what would a person who has lived that long even be doing in a vast, barren desert?

I shudder to think about what my past thoughts were to make me take such a drastic turn with my life…

I must have been an odd person even before I became a gnarled looking beast.

And then, that odd person was being stared at by other odd looking people- no doubt wondering why I stopped where I stood in my first moments of spotting them- and it is then that I remembered the hypothetical I thought about while traveling the desert- and I realized that everything was coming to pass exactly as I feared.

When I had tried to move forward and open my mouth to speak, no words made their way past my cracked, dreadfully dry lips.

I struggled to even make a sound- and as I bumbled my way forward, the two began to look at me as if I had grown an extra head.

Finally, as I made my forward and then fell to the ground in defeat, the odd creatures found their own courage and approached me first.

Ah… and how nice it was to hear the words spoken by another.

What did Sans do in our initial encounter?

It’s been so long…

Let me think.

Ah, I remember now.

Heh.

He had reached out his hand…

“Human, don’t you know how to greet a new pal? Come on- get up, so you can shake my hand properly.”

And it was then that I felt myself return to my senses as I laughed and stood up, taking that creature's hand as the other stared from behind him.

And it was then that I spoke back, for the first time in countless years.

“What an odd thing for you to say, don’t you think?”

I haven’t really thought much up for this AU besides this yet, and I don’t know if I’ll come up with any more ideas- if anyone even sees this post, feel free to suggest stuff for it!

I don’t usually make stuff in the standard ‘tale’ format with a protagonist of either frisk or chara- but it could definitely be tweaked to fit the mold if someone wanted.

I’m thinking that the desert is probably mystical in nature- and the reason it feels endless is because it practically is- made to be a barrier to keep monsters inside.

The main character is a mysterious person- even to themselves- who has traveled the desert for ages, not knowing a thing about why they are even there in the first place.

This could also be changed to fit the protagonist mold- perhaps the equivalent to falling down after approaching Mt. Ebbott could be approaching a dangerous place that marks the start of the desert, which frisk ends up passing to enter the desert?

Water and water sources would be very important in this AU, with rivers, lakes, and oases being the focal point of most of the cities. Perhaps the core would be the exception, being inhabitable for different reasons.

Snowdin could be Dunedin, perhaps? They’d probably deal with constant sandstorms, given that they would be the smallest of the cities and would have little protection from the wind.

Waterfall could possibly be one big waterfall from a massive river- an important focal point where water flows throughout to pretty much all of the monster cities, in a similar manner to how the Nile river was and still is an important water source in Egypt.

There’s all my ideas on this for now- I’ll be sure to add more as I come up with anything- and to anyone who sees this, feel free to give or suggest potential ideas yourself! I’d love nothing more than to discuss concepts with people- I just love the rare times when I get to do things like that.

Once again- if even one person sees this and interacts, I’ll proceed to post more of all the little (and big) ideas I’ve been making while working on my main work.

Just tell me what you want to see, and I’ll look at what I have and post it! : )

#potential undertale AU idea #drabble #undertale drabble #random kittylover stuff

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nanaminswhore · 2 years

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little magic spells everywhere

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader (SFW)

Flufftober Day 1 Prompt: Wearing each other's clothes

Synopsis: A blurb of older Eddie and reader moving in together into their new apartment and getting distracted from the unpacking process by putting on a fashion show, wearing each other's clothes. Or, simply, perhaps, the magic of being in love.

Warnings: Use of term "baby" as a romantic pet name.

Tags: Established relationship, tooth-rotting fluff <3

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: My first published fic in years! Seriously can't believe I'm posting this. Here's to "firsts in a long while" and to being brave and having fun! Written for Day 1 of the the 30 prompts on @flufftober!

For full effect, read with the song “Rich” by Lily Williams. Enjoy:)

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In a land far, far away was a pair of wizards, oh so deeply in love, in the midst of the beginnings of their new adventure…

“Oh my god,” you squeal in shock and delight, your glee a melody over the Metallica playing from radio playing the cassette. “How is it possible that you look better in my clothes than I do?”

“You think?” Eddie ends his runway walk and gracefully spins in the middle of your living room apartment, lifting the edges of your skirt high into the sky. He bares his legs and shows off how great he looks in your sheer thigh highs.

He stomps your ill-fitting Doc Marten onto the ground to gain his balance. In true Eddie fashion, he finishes his dramatic entry with equal drama: a hand on his hip, his booty popped, and his other hand in the air.

“How do you I look?” He gives you a playful wink and gazes at you with a silly yet seductive expression. You have no idea how that’s possible, but with Eddie, you’ve learned that the sky's the limit with the wonders you don’t know.

“You are beautiful, baby! Sexy! Stunning,” you say, giggles punctuating each confession of adoration. “An absolute dream! In sheer thigh highs!”

The sun wraps you both in its setting, golden light as you lose yourself in oohs and aahs and laughs and applause as you do a turn about your boyfriend. His eyes twinkle as you admire the outfit made of your own clothes that adorn his body, holding his hand high and pulling him into a twirl. The sounds of contagious glee and echoing music mix feel like magic.

While nothing could possibly have given you more joy than starting a new life together, the hours of loading and unloading your belongings, of traveling and driving, of leaning into the adventure of a new life together, had left both of you a tad exhausted and delirious. Both of your silly fingers itched for some silly antics, or as Eddie would like to call it, casting magic spells.

And so it goes, boxes and belongings have been abandoned for a makeshift show of intrigue and metal music and fashion, with Eddie in yours and you soon to be in his.

“Hey,” he scolds with a smile you can hear in his voice, “no peeking!” as you attempt to sneak a peek into his fashion project.

You playfully coach him from across the separating walls with I don’t wanna wear the chain, it pinches! and Oh my gosh, that t-shirt doesn’t go with that! Do not put them together! He chides you and reminds you that You get what you get and you don’t throw a fit, sweetheart!

The empty halls fill once more with more giggles and music. The clinks of metal buttons and metal belts as Eddie throws this and that and those tinkle like magic, as if casting a spell and making a home.

You can hear him finish with a satisfied, "Perfect." He ushers you into the room, his cool-ringed hands obscuring your vision, eager to make it a surprise. You assure him that, yes your eyes are still closed, and that Yes baby, I am not peaking I promise. He closes the door behind him, leaving you alone to the room.

You giggle as your eyes open and a deep, hearty cackle escapes you. And then a fond sigh as you trace the soft, familiar fabrics.

His old Hellfire shirt, his old denim vest, and his old torn and faded ripped jeans from the days when you were both so young, when love felt so new. The tears feel cool against your hands as you wipe them away. You laugh at the wonder of it all. Of all the love that brought you here.

You quickly don the apparel, tidy the bandana tied around your head, and yell an I’m ready baby! Turn the music up! and swing the door open.

His wide eyes pop with adoration out of his curly-haired head at the sight of you.

“Oh my god, baby,” he laughs, “You are so. Fuckin. Metal!”

“Yeah?!” you yell over the music.

“Fuck yeah!” he lavishes, taking your hand and twirling you. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in ripped jeans and a headband!”

Eddie hoots and hollers as you catwalk, as you badly play the air guitar, as you double over in laughter. He looks at you with unending love as he swings you around in his arms, holds your face in soft embrace, wipes your happy tears away, his happy tears away, and kisses you.

“Another outfit?” you whisper into him, the room quiet as the cassette finishes. Catching your breath, you tuck yourself into him, your chin resting on his chest. “And maybe some eyeshadow and eyeliner?” His doe eyes crinkle in mirth.

“The way I like?”

You kiss his nose. “Just the way you like.”

He snorts and kisses your nose back. “And show you up in your own clothes again? Wouldn't miss the chance!” He wraps his arms around you as you playfully smack his chest, settling you into him with muffled giggles.

If anyone were to peek into the glowing windows of this empty home, they would find that despite the bare walls and little furniture, it didn’t feel so empty. In it were empty walls, enough furniture to barely cover one wall, and just boxes enough to fit into a single van. A humble inventory it was. But what wizardry was this, that a barren floor felt a so full to the passing stranger's eye? Was it a glimmer of magic they saw? Impossible! Truly, it was only the trick of the eye. Oh, if only they were wiser, and perhaps an adventuring wizard themselves, would they see that magic is very real! It exists as little magic spells everywhere.

It’s in the way you fling yourself free of Eddie's embrace, running into your room to scavenge for the next outfit, your favorite white lace dress in mind.

It's in the way you don't make it to the next outfit change because Eddie insists on putting on makeup. In the way you gently place the rouge on his lips, the color warm in the reflection of the setting sun matching his brown, sunflower eyes. In the way he smothers you in smooches, the red lovingly staining your full cheeks.

They’d taste it in the buttery polaroids of the faces of Dustin, your siblings, and Wayne and all the ones you loved so much, pasted on the fridge. Buttery only because Eddie insisted on sticking them on while eating popcorn because he just couldn’t wait to welcome the gang home. You agreed, but you'd never admit it was your sticky fingers, too, that put them there.

They’d hear it in the steady rhythm of your breathing as the moon cradled you both to rest, your intertwined bodies sleeping on the lone mattress in a room strewn with boxes still taped up, but unpacked enough for another day of casting spells.

They’d know it in your whispers and secret confessions, your Good night, baby's and the I love you's, and the giggles between tender kisses.

Oh, if only they could see how easy it is to believe in magic! And if only they knew they could make magic, too! Then they'd know, then they could see, the secret of the universe is in the way anyone can love. In the way you loved each other, in the little magic spells you both cast everywhere you go. Maybe then, they could become wizards too...

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things 4 #love is in the magic #magic is in the love people!#fluff #fanfiction

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ibelongtonegan · 2 years

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Perfect Enemy (Negan/OFC slow burn) – Chapter 3: True Lies

Yay, finally another chapter! I’m sorry it took me forever to continue this story, but my muse has been all over the place recently. To anyone still following this fic: thank you from the bottom of my heart for your support and I hope you enjoy the new chapter.

Summary: when Cate starts sneaking into the Sanctuary to steal supplies from the Saviors, she does it just for sport. But after being captured by Negan it soon turns into a dangerous game of cat and mouse where she has two choices: kneel or break. Brave and stubborn, Cate has no intention to yield, but she might have just met her match in Negan…

Characters: Negan x Cate (OFC)

Word count: 3,581

Warnings: angst, blood, swearing, violence

Tags (tagging my forevers and those who expressed interest in this fic at some point): @negans-network, @emoryhemsworth, @ridingmoxley-blog, @ladysyn, @i-am-negan-trash, @sleepylunarwolf, @letsby, @letsbys-library, @tatertotandcassie, @ofxallxwexlost, @jdmorganz, @iluvneganandjamie, @haleyea, @someslugthings, @cockslut-padalecki, @superblychaoticdragon, @negans-wife, @ly--canthrope, @destielstuffandthings, @sweetpeaflower01 , @fangasm202, @buttercandy16, @feedthemadness-sweetie

If you would like to be tagged in the upcoming chapters or wish to be added to my forever tag list, please let me know!

I appreciate feedback and most days don’t bite. So don’t be shy, please feel free to comment, message or ask me anything!

[PERFECT ENEMY MASTERLIST]

× × × × ×

The first sense that returned to Cate was smell, as the strong odor of disinfectant and medicine filled her nose. It felt like she was floating in a vast, dark ocean, swayed gently by the waves. Her eyelids cracked open, a blurry hospital room coming into view in the dim light filtering through the blinds. She was too tired to move and was about to doze off again when the sound of approaching footsteps pulled her back to consciousness.

She slipped out of the bed on shaky legs, the searing pain at the back of her head making her stomach churn. A tube was leading from her right arm to a bag of clear liquid that was attached to a rusty pole. She fumbled with the gauze around the needle with trembling fingers when her knees gave out and she collapsed on the floor, just as the steps came to a halt outside and the doorknob started to turn.

“She is still unconscious, sir,” a man called hurriedly from the other side of the corridor. The knob stopped halfway, then slowly returned to its original position.

“What’s wrong with her?”

The other voice was deep, gruff, and somewhat familiar, but she could not place it.

“She has a concussion and is dehydrated, but with enough rest and proper nutrition she will be fine.”

“When can I talk to her?” the grumpy one pressed further.

“It’s hard to tell. Maybe tomorrow.”

There was a moment of pause. The reply did not seem to please the man in charge.

“You let me know the minute she wakes up, doc,” the order left no room for argument, and was followed by heavy boots marching away.

The door creaked open and a thin, balding man wearing a white lab coat stepped inside. Spotting Cate curled up on the ground he almost dropped the wooden crate under his arm as he rushed to her side, but she jerked away from his touch, suddenly all too aware that she was wearing only a bra and panties under her paper-thin hospital gown.

“I’m Doctor Carson and you are at the Sanctuary,” he stepped back to give her some space. “You took quite a hit to the head and were out all day. I was starting to get worried.”

She raised her arm to examine the injury, but the IV line restricted her movement.

“You drugged me?” she croaked, her tongue feeling like sandpaper.

“It’s only saline to replenish the fluids and minerals you have lost.”

It offered Cate little comfort that the label on the plastic bag corroborated the doctor’s words. Luckily, Carson’s medical opinion was that the infusion was no longer necessary. After helping her back in bed, he pulled on a pair of rubber gloves, removed the needle, and covered the puncture wound with a bandage.

“Your clothes were beyond saving, so I brought you new ones,” he pointed at the crate. “I hope they will fit.”

The man poured her a glass of water that she emptied in three gulps before asking for a refill.

“Where is my backpack?”

“That you will have to discuss with Negan.”

The name brought back memories of the previous night. Passing through the forest, the chase, kneeling in front of the cocky asshole with the baseball bat. The pictures were foggy, but she now knew who the voice from the corridor belonged to.

“He is very insistent on talking to you. I could buy you some time but won’t be able to hold him back much longer.”

The doctor pulled out a stool from under the bed and sat down next to her.

“I would like to ask you a couple of questions about your health and examine you.”

Cate traced the zigzag pattern of the blanket with her fingertips as if looking for the way out of a maze. Even if Carson had been nothing but kind to her, trust was a luxury she could not afford.

“Everything you tell me stays between us in accordance with doctor-patient confidentiality, and the examination is standard procedure for newcomers to rule out injuries and diseases.”

She searched the man’s face for any sign of deceit, but finding none, nodded slightly.

True to his word, Carson asked only about her physical and mental health, and while Cate provided no more information than necessary, she answered every question truthfully. After noting down her responses, he checked her temperature, blood pressure and reflexes, then examined her head, humming knowingly when the touch of a tender spot elicited a groan from her.

“Can you tell me the last thing you remember?”

The doctor stood up and walked over to a glass cabinet giving her time to peruse her surroundings. There were two more beds to her right, unoccupied and spotlessly made. A large desk stood in the far corner with piles of medical books on it, other than that the room was clean and simple, all gray walls and metal surfaces.

“I’m in a clearing...there are soldiers around me…and this guy is babbling all the time,” she rubbed her temples, feeling her headache worsen.

“It will all come back with time, don’t worry.”

Carson returned with pill bottles of various sizes and placed them on the bedstand.

“Iron and vitamins. Take one before every meal.”

The mere mention of eating made Cate’s stomach rumble loudly, much to the doctor’s amusement. He retrieved a vacuum flask from the crate, unscrewed the lid and handed it to her.

“I thought we should start with liquids, and gradually move on to solid food.”

Cate peeked inside and sniffed at the rim suspiciously. Tiny puffs of steam rose from the flask carrying a rich aroma. Taking a tentative sip, she moaned out loud as the salty taste of broth spread on her tongue, and she gulped down her first proper meal in weeks greedily. After slurping up every last drop she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and mumbled a ‘thank you’ under her breath.

“The restroom is just across the hallway, and my office is the first door on the left. I’ll come back to check on you later,” Carson promised. “Try to get some rest.”

Cate only allowed herself to relax when the doctor’s footsteps faded away completely on the corridor. She laid back on the pillow and pulled the blanket up to her chin drifting into a dreamless sleep.

× × × × ×

She woke up the next morning feeling significantly better. The nausea was gone, her headache lessened to a dull throb, and the fever also subsided. Carson was willing to lift his strict bed rest order for maximum half an hour deeming his patient fit enough to visit the bathroom while he fetched her breakfast.

Stepping into the large shower area Cate was glad to find it empty. She stripped and stepped into the last stall, pulling the plastic curtain closed. The pipes were rattling before the first drops appeared, but the water was clean and surprisingly warm. Despite Carson’s instructions to use the shower sparingly she could not help indulging in the simple pleasure of standing under the stream for a good minute with her eyes closed, letting the memory of bathing in ice-cold rivers and muddy ponds float down the drain. She soaped herself three times and emptied half a bottle of shampoo to wash off all the dirt and grime of months of forest life.

Wrapping herself in a towel, she walked over to the row of sinks on the opposite wall to study her reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks were pale and hollow, dark circles framed her eyes, and her hair was a tangled mass, but it was her. A little more tired, and much more hardened, but still her.

After drying herself she put on the white t-shirt and grey sweatpants Carson had brought her from the commissary and tiptoed out on bare feet, leaving the humid air of the bathroom behind.

On the way back she wondered what Carson would bring her for breakfast and her mouth watered as images of various options crossed her mind. Opening the door to the infirmary, however, there was no sign of the doctor. A man wearing a black leather jacket was sitting in his place with his long legs propped up on the freshly changed bed. A baseball bat laid in his lap next to the clipboard with her medical records. His lips widened into a wolfish grin at her sight, showing two rows of perfect white teeth that were practically glowing in the morning light.

Cate froze in the doorway, feeling her heart hammering in her chest. Instinct told her to run, but in her current state she had little chance to make it to the fence and zero past it, and she wasn’t going to give this man the satisfaction of seeing her vulnerable. If the bastard thought that he had her under his thumb now, he was in for a surprise. Squaring her shoulders, she stepped into the room to face her captor and whatever he had in store for her.

× × × × ×

Negan was at a loss for words momentarily, an unfamiliar sensation stirring within him. He didn’t know what to expect after their eventful first meeting in the forest, but it was certainly not this. He looked Cate up and down with unabashed interest, as if he had been observing an exotic animal. She leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms across her chest, and glared at him with open hostility.

“Who are you?”

He raised an eyebrow, feeling the embers of Lucille’s anger spark to life. Despite her partial amnesia he hoped to have had made as much of a lasting impression on her, as she had had on him.

“Well, hello there, wildcat. Don’t tell me that you have forgotten our one-on-one the other night. I sure as shit haven’t.”

She shrugged her shoulders, but her eyes betrayed her as they landed on his right temple.

“Oh, you remember this, don’t you?” Negan gritted his teeth. “Your little stunt cost me six fucking stitches,” he pointed at the cut that based on Carson’s prediction was going to leave a permanent scar.

“Come on, I won’t bite. I even got you breakfast,” he motioned towards the tray on the bed as a temporary peace offering.

It was Carson who had brought the food of course, Negan only hijacked it from him in the corridor. The doctor tried to argue, but one stern look was enough to make him scurry back to his office. He had been annoyingly overprotective of the little wildcat and had successfully kept him from seeing her claiming that she was not fit enough yet to have visitors, until Negan decided to take matters into his own hands.

He had gone through Cate’s backpack first thing after returning to the Sanctuary, and once more last night, but the contents had raised more questions than answers. The entries in her diary were vague and offered no clues as to where she had been from. Carson’s diagnosis confirmed that she was malnourished and anemic, besides some bruises and a burn scar there was nothing worth mentioning though. Whichever community she had belonged to, she must have left abruptly, and the mysterious circumstances made Negan even more eager to find out the truth.

Now that she was standing before him, his curiosity was peaked due to another reason. He checked her out lazily, getting his first good look at her in daylight. She was tall and lean, yet toned, with curves in all the right places. She was a redhead, not the ginger kind like Frankie, but darker, with tiny freckles dotting her skin around her cheeks and nose. The water dripping from her hair created a sheer spot on her t-shirt revealing to him that she was braless and cold, her nipples poking through the fabric. Letting his imagination run wild with the possibilities he stamped his “hot as fuck”-seal of approval in the miscellaneous section of her medical chart. If she had been an ordinary stray, he would have asked her to marry him on the spot.

A flash of pain snapped him out of his fantasy. He was absentmindedly playing with Lucille when one of her barbs bit into his flesh as a silent reminder that the purpose of his visit was to interrogate and then punish the little thief for breaking into the Sanctuary, taking his stuff, and trying to carve him up like a goddamn Thanksgiving turkey. He reluctantly tucked himself mentally back into his pants and cleared his throat to focus back on the plan.

Cate was oblivious to his rampant thoughts and padded to the bed, the perpetual scowl never leaving her face. He followed the sway of her hips as she climbed up on the mattress and sat down cross-legged. She was about to dig into the bowl of steaming porridge when he stopped her with a shake of his head.

“Ah-ah, not so fast, wildcat. You haven’t earned it yet.”

Her head snapped up, eyes cold as ice.

“I’m not gonna suck your cock for a bowl of soggy oats,” she hissed and tossed the spoon on the tray.

Negan’s gaze went to her mouth unconsciously, feeling the blood rush to his groin. The little brat was baiting him on purpose, and he was falling for it anyway. She was trouble with a capital T, and if he wanted to get her under control, he had to step up his game. Lucille, however, was not in the mood to play and demanded immediate disciplinary action, more than ready to act as jury, judge, and executioner.

“Hot damn!” he clicked his tongue. “Here I thought we were going to start this out nice and PG, and you are trying to get into my pants already? Sadly, business comes first,” he winked at her lewdly, “and the questions I want answers to.”

Cate rolled her eyes at him in exasperation.

“I already told the doctor everything.”

“I don’t care about your blood type or vaccination history,” he uncrossed his legs and leaned forward in his chair. “For every answer you get one spoon of oatmeal in return. Deal?”

She continued playing hard to get for a few seconds before giving in with a pout, just as Negan had intended.

“How long did you live out there on your own?”

He knew the approximate answer from her diary already but wanted to test her credibility.

“About five months.”

Without waiting for approval Cate picked up the spoon, filled it to the brim and shoveled it into her mouth.

“What happened to your community?”

A look of panic crossed her features before her resting bitch face slipped back on.

“There was a riot.”

Another spoonful disappeared between her lips in the blink of an eye, as if she had been afraid that the food was going to be taken from her any minute. A drop dripped down her chin that she collected with her thumb and licked off.

“You are a damn messy eater, you know that?” Negan frowned at her lack of table manners.

“Uh-huh,” she mumbled and had the cheek to scoff at him when he did not reward her answer with another bite. Lucille was sharpening her barbs at her audacity, but he soothed her with a caress along her spine and moved on to the next question on his list.

“Show me the location,” he took the map from his jacket pocket and unfolded it on the blanket.

Cate stopped munching and gulped hard, evidently caught off guard. Fidgeting on the mattress she scanned the wrinkled road map of the great state of Virginia for a few moments then pointed at a spot in the middle of nowhere.

Negan clenched his jaw and inhaled deeply through his nose. His patience was wearing thin from an impending migraine, and he had left the aspirin in his room.

“Bullshit,” he snarled, his voice dangerously low. “We have an outpost nearby and my men have checked every nook and cranny in that area. They found no trace of a settlement.”

He snatched her wrist with his gloved hand to prevent her from scooping up another bite.

“I don’t give a flying fuck if you are trying to hide something or protect someone, but you are lying. I want to know everything about your community. Where they are, how many people live there and what supplies they have.”

Cate glowered at him clutching the spoon as if she was going to carve his heart out with it. Negan had her right where he wanted her, and it was only a matter of time before she told him everything. They could have a scavenger team ready within the hour, but Simon would not be back from the satellite station until nightfall. He preferred to have his right-hand man by his side when taking over a new community.

His battle plans were however rudely interrupted when instead of surrender Cate chose to shit in his scrambled eggs and reaching for the tray with her free hand snaked her fingers around the handle. Negan opened his mouth to warn her to back off, but before he could utter a word, she pulled the object to her side of the bed. He gripped the other handle, holding onto it like his life depended on it, and soon enough they ended up in a twisted game of tug of war, both trying to yank the tray to their side of the imaginary field. Lucille was pacing up and down on the side like an agitated panther, watching the scene unfold.

A minute into their Mexican standoff, Cate changed tactic and went for the bowl itself, but Negan blocked her attempt by ripping out the tray from her hand with a smug sneer. His victory was however short-lived when the momentum sent the porcelain bowl sliding along the smooth surface before it tipped over the edge and landed face-down on the cheap linoleum, shattering into pieces and spilling oatmeal everywhere.

The silence that followed was deafening before all hell broke loose. The fury of Lucille coursed his veins like liquid fire and Negan finally allowed her to fully take the reins. He jumped from the chair sending it flying backward and grabbing Cate by the throat slammed her against the wall with a dull thud.

“Listen carefully, wildcat, because it looks like you didn’t get the fucking memo,” he growled in her face, his nostrils flaring. “You are mine now. The clothes on your body, the food in your belly, even the air you are breathing IS…FUCKING…MINE!!!”

Cate tried to fend him off, but was no match to his strength, and her body dangled helplessly in his hold like a rag doll, her tiptoes sweeping the floor.

“If you try to outsmart me, I will beat you to it. If you cross me, I will make you regret it. And do not even think about escaping, because I will catch you, drag your ass back here, throw you in my deepest, darkest cell and then flush the key down the drain. Do you fucking understand?”

A quiet cough came from behind him.

“Sir…”

Negan recognized the mousy voice of Carson but did not acknowledge him in any way. He must have heard the commotion from his office, if he was not lurking outside the door already. Negan thought that if he ignored him, he was going to go away, but the doctor seemed to have grown a pair of balls and did not budge.

“May I remind you that Cate had suffered head trauma and needs to rest? Cutting off her oxygen supply can cause serious damage to her brain and even suffocation. I would recommend that you find another method of interrogation that will not leave her incapacitated or dead.”

The words slowly cut through the haze of red as Cate’s face came into focus before him, contorted in agony, her eyes bulging and a thin trail of blood dripping from her nose onto her T-shirt. He released her throat as if her skin had burnt him, and she dropped down like a sack of potatoes, coughing and gasping.

Negan stumbled back in confusion and bumped into the nightstand that got knocked over during the fight. Something crunched under his boots, but it was impossible to tell what from the debris that littered the floor. The walls were closing in on him and it felt like all the air was sucked out of his lungs. Spinning on his heel he noticed Lucille on the ground, forlorn and sulking after rolling off his lap in the heat of the moment. He made a mental note to himself to make it up to her later, but he had to get out of there before he did something he would regret. Careful only to touch her surface with his gloved hand he picked her up and hurried to the door.

“Have her clean this mess up,” he barked at the doctor over his shoulder. “And she doesn’t get anything to eat until dinner.”

He stormed out of the infirmary with long strides, desperate to put as much distance between him and his prisoner as possible. Lucille gaped at him, her barbs like dozens of question marks, but he paid her no mind, keeping his gaze fixed ahead. He badly needed a drink, and it was not even noon yet.

[TO BE CONTINUED]

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wherethewordsare · 3 years

Text

The Show Must Go On

The format on this is kind of shit cause I pretty much did a live write in and I am in the middle of semester rn and refuse to clean this up. 🤷‍♀️

Based during WW2. @natthemess said something about that song Candy Man and my brain went “Okay... but USO Jaskier” and woops I accidentally the whole thing. Warning: Mentions of MCD, death, war in the consequential injuries and collateral that comes with that.

Word Count: 2575

Also took inspiration from this song here!

Let's talk about ww2 and people that got left behind

Let's talk about those who knew they probably wouldn't be coming back and they left their loves as angry and as broken hearted as possible so that when the news did get back, at least maybe it wouldn't hurt so bad

Then. Then there's Jask. And man. He got pretty broken-hearted. But of course he would still try to follow. Had to. The army might not take him but he'll if he wasn't going to try to enlist one way or another. So he finds himself in the USO. They call him the Songbird of Southern San Francisco. (He's from Piedmont but alright)

Does shows all up and down the coast. Finds himself in Hawaii. Then New York. Next thing he knows, he's being put on a boat for Malta.

His set is pretty solid. Mostly swing dance and a few ballads

The navy lads are a blast. Idiots and cads and Jask fits right in. Then... they hit the mouth of the Mediterranean and the ship goes into some kind of high alert as they go just past the coast of Morocco. Jaskier wasn't expecting to step out of his bunk in the afternoon by the sight he sees. Soldiers and civilians alike, in any manner of injury and devastation. And it's Jaskier. He wants to help. He grabs a nurse going by and she's about to tell him off. "What do you need? How can I help." She softens a bit. "Unless you have any medical training, talking to some might be a good start. And pray we aren't next."

So he does. Talks to every man, woman and child he can find time to. There was one man, a soldier, his face bandaged almost completely. And tells him of a woman he left back in Portugal. A nurse for the United Kingdom. And he kind of smiles and it splits the cut in his lip back open. "Told me I was hers till I got back in one piece. Hope she doesn't mind if it's not a pretty piece."

"Brave as you are, I'm sure she'll still find you the most handsome fella on the whole boat." But Jaskier is already humming. Already putting together a song. Something soft and slow and hopeful. A demand to the one that left him behind. Go. Go see what you have to but know you belong to me. Still. You don't get to just cop out cause you die"

They get to Malta and Jaskier waits with his new friend at the military hospital for this nurse.

Eskel tells him that they met before the war and then found each other again during. He hums Jaskiers song. Jokes that he's never been a muse before, even partly.

"I only take inspiration from very tall handsome men. Too bad my taste is always those I can't have." It's not even a whole joke.

When Eskels nurse, Triss, shows up, she's not alone. Eskels brother is there. Esk and Triss are having their reunion while Gerslt and Jaskier just stare at one another. Eskel is saying something about the You Belong to Me song and that's when Jaskier remembers himself.

But Geralt has already put it together.

"Jask..."

"Wait, you two know.... oh." Eskel is glaring at Geralt with his one unbandaged eye. "The second the doc clears me, I'm kicking your ass all the way back to Oakland, buddy."

It isn't until that night when Jaskier performs that Geralt understands.

"You told me it hadn't been serious."

"I said it couldn't be serious."

Eskel looks up at Jaskier when the song starts. "I don't know. Seems like at least one of you thought it was."

After the show, Geralt can't find Jaskier. But now his gut is burning with guilt but also with just how lonely he had been after that afternoon on the pier where he told Jaskier about being drafted. About how he was leaving in the morning.

"In the morning? Don't they usually give you at least a couple of weeks to... oh. Oh I see." Jaskier had looked over the ocean with that frown that always made Geralt just want to pull him closer. "So that's it then?"

"Hmm." He hadn't looked up from where he was leaning against the railing when Jaskier stormed off and before he could second guess himself he was already on a plane for El Paso.

He should have known where to find Jaskier though. He remembers that Jaskier had told him once about how the Ocean was the safest place because at least there, you couldn't underestimate how tits up things could go in a blink.

He wasn't surprised when he walked down from the barracks to the little rocky inlet, Jaskier leaning against a boulder watching the sun slowly make its way down into the waves, strumming out the melody of the last song he played for his set.

"I didn't think I'd be coming home." He tries to explain.

Jaskier's fingers press down on the strings, cutting off the sound with a hard disharmonious jangle.

"Well you took mine with you when you left, so I don't know what you want from me."

"Jaskier..." He look out over the water but doesn't make to go any closer. He's seen the musician scrap before and it's never good.

"You know, the worst part. Priss warned me. She did. Told me 'Julek, not that one. He doesn't even look like he knows how to have feelings.' And I hate the fact that she was right." He turns to look at Geralt and his eyes are like ice and the smile on his face is too sharp and too cruel to be the man that Geralt had met four years ago. "Because if you did know how to feel anything besides your own pride, maybe you could have seen just how-" he stops and the smile fades but the coldness in his eyes only seems to deepen. "You know. It doesn't matter. We're both here now and you have a job to do tomorrow and honestly, I can't care less." He's pushing himself off the ground and Geralt can't move. He can't speak. He feels like his heart has been torn from his chest and thrown to the sharks. "I'll see you around Geralt."

He's frozen there, only able to watch as Jaskier trudges back up the hill, the neck of his guitar in a tight grip.

Geralt stays, watching as the sun completely sinks, not noticing the heat of the day turn near to freezing. He's already cold inside. He figures that's what happens when you put out the only bit of sun you've ever known.

Jask gets all of five minutes to revel in his foul mood. By time he's reached the barracks the guitar strings under his grip are slicing into his palm and his face is hot and streaked with tears. He sleeps through the deployment the next morning and misses his next three shows. The coordinator for the USO tour is lenient to a point and by the fourth night he makes his way back on stage. He doesn't look for the face he knows isn't there. He doesn't think of that beach on another coastline miles and miles away and he doesn't think about the danger he knows must be waiting there. Instead he sings, trying to keep those that are left behind in good spirits.

Within two weeks, letters start making their way back to the base from the front line, followed by casualty notices. Jaskier always leaves the mailroom when he sees them. He stops seeking out Eskel and Triss, choosing instead to hide away on the roof of the canteen, his eyes always coming to stop on the water.

Jaskier spends four weeks in the same routine. Sing, sleep, wake up, drink, hide. Rinse and repeat. He doesn't know how he does it, but Eskel finally tracks him down. Even with half of his face still bandaged, still healing, Jaskier can tell. The air in his lungs turns to flames and he feels his knees buckle under him.

"I'm so sorry, Jask." Eskel is at his side then, his cane discarded as he bends down to catch Jaskier.

There's someone dying, he's pretty sure. It sounds like there's someone dying at least but he can't tell where the sound is coming from.

Geralt is gone. The world is shattering inward and Geralt is gone. Jaskier can feel sand beneath his bare feet and a leather jacket being draped around his shoulders, smelling of a mechanic's shop and black coffee. He can hear a warm laugh in his ear and music from down the beach where they are walking. But that is not where Jaskier is right now. That moment belongs to someone he can never be again. Geralt is gone and Jaskier is still here and the world has shattered to a fine dust.

There is a moment he thinks that maybe he'll be allowed to go to. Follow Geralt into oblivion but he can't. How could he when he knows that's exactly why Geralt had left him behind in the first place.

There are no tears. No sound or sight around him and he thinks that no amount of music will ever be worth the way his heart is breaking.

Memorials for them are different now. Funerals are different. They cannot sort out the number of bodies that have been left on the battlefield. When thin metal is pressed into Jaskier's hand, skin still tight from where it is healing in thin lines, he clutches what he knows to be Geralt's dog tags and he weeps. In that moment there is no escaping how for the rest of his days, he will always still belong to Geralt.

V-Day shakes New York under him. The shouts in the streets and the music pound into the thin brick walls of Jaskier's tiny apartment. He couldn't go back to California after Malta. Warm winds and ocean views didn't seem to suit him very well anymore. The city was full of life but it was so much easier to get lost in than back in the bay. Jaskier spends most of his time singing in the clubs and helping at the VA, though mostly all he can do is talk to people. He sees it all there, wounds both visible and not come back with the boys from across the sea, but he realizes that what he's really looking for is a miracle. (edited)

By November, the ticker tape has all washed into the Hudson and the air is going crisp. Jaskier sits behind the stage of a small basement dive. There's a knock at the door and he looks up. The face looks familiar, at least half of it, the other pulled at a rough angle from the scars that are still healing.

"Eskel!" Jaskier's hand automatically reaches up for the thin pressed metal under his shirt. He realizes he may have slipped on his promise to keep in touch.

"Hey there, songbird. I have a favor, if it's okay?"

Eskel doesn't have to say what it is, but when he does, Jaskier agrees without a second thought. Part of it was Eskel's after all. The other part... well the only thing left of that was around Jaskier's neck.

The lights go up on the stage and Jaskier goes through his usual set, the wooden stool they put out for him mostly ignored. He knows how to play this crowd, and does at least twice a week these days. So when he does sit down, pulling the guitar a little closer to him, a hush falls over the audience.

He waits, with a small smile and it feels like the ones he can see share it with them. They all know this one by now. When the men started to file back home, it was requested a lot. He let his thumb rub over the fine scars that still tug at his palm and takes a deep breath. "If you're still out there, well. You know."

He doesn't have the first chords completely plucked out when his eyes catch on something in the low light of the bar. He doesn't know how he missed it at first but there, leaning against the wall...

".... songbird" Eskel had called him. No one ever called him "songbird" outside of his USO shows except

Jaskier nearly drops his guitar, nearly faints. How....

Geralt leans against the wall, arms folded over his chest and his head tilts with a smile, soft and sincere and wholly alive. He gives him a small nod and Jaskier can find the strings again. He's thankful that the song is a short one and he doesn't draw it out as he usually might for dramatic affect or just because he's feeling particularly self indulgent. By the final notes, half of the crowd is singing along while the other half are lost somewhere far away at the bottom of their beers. When Jaskier stands his feet are steadier than he expects them to be and he's already jumping down off the stage. He watches as Geralt moves back out through the door and into the street.

It's cold and there's the threat of rain heavy in the air but Jaskier didn't grab his coat or anything before following his ghost out into the night.

Geralt stops just out on the curb and waits. When Jaskier catches up to him he's clutching his guitar to him again, as if it might ward away some inevitable betrayal of his own grief stricken heart.

"Hey there, you." Geralt's voice is rough and his face seems to be trying to settle on one of a thousand emotions. Jaskier can relate.

"Hi." Jaskier gives a wet laugh and starts to reach out before pulling his hand back. "I'm not... I think I might have finally had too much gin."

"No," Geralt is shaking his head. He reaches out, broad warm hands taking Jaskier's.

Oh. They're warm.... They're warm! They’re real!

"How?" Is all he can manage. He still can't bring himself to believe it or even look at Geralt straight on for too long. It hurts.

"Does it matter?" Geralt is stepping into his space though slowly, letting Jaskier the space to retreat if he needs it.

"It really fucking does, Geralt! You were... I have." His hand finally works free of Geralt's and goes back to his chest where he knows the dog tags sit over his heart.

"I know." Geralt reaches for him again and Jaskier thinks for a moment that he actually choked on a hard candy backstage and this might be heaven. Man, heaven smells like Queens. What the fuck.

"You're back?"

"Yes."

Jaskier searches his face and smiles. His heart feels like it's cracking all over again but it might be the thawing of months of bitter cold. "And you're..." He doesn't know how to say this next part.

"Back for you, yes." It's not a statement so much as a plea and Jaskier beams through a sob. “And I don’t plan on going anywhere again. Should have realized this was where I belonged in the first place,” Geralt's arms around him in a second and the blood rushing in Jaskier's ears sounds like the tide finally coming back in.

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #angst #mentions of MCD #off screen mcd #temporary mcd #mentions of war #USO Jaskier #WW2 au #blanket fort shenanigans #less a fic #more a ramble #happy ending #Eskel being that brother #we stan #no beta #shit formatting

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 3 years

Text

Mothskier vs. the Haunted House

Welcome to the first of this year's annual "Very Bouncey Halloween" stories! At the request of my beloved @veritasrose I have written some cute Mothskier fluff!

tw: haunted house spooks (brief description of a jump scare)

---

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Geralt asks, taking Jaskier by the hand. The half-Fae’s wings flutter a little in annoyance and he glares over at his boyfriend, eyes narrowing dramatically when their gazes lock.

“This is one of the few seasonal human traditions that seems scary and fun,” he asserts. “I don’t want to miss out!”

“Alright,” the Witcher relents. “But next weekend I get to choose the date activity."

Jaskier nods his consent to this suggestion, antennae bouncing.

The Witcher smiles, presses a quick kiss to Jaskier's fluffy brown hair, and asks: "Do you have the tickets?”

“I printed them out this morning" - Jaskier offers up the folded papers - "Here.”

“Excellent."

Geralt takes the tickets from Jaskier and slips them into his hoodie pocket, keeping them clutched tight as they make their way from the parking lot to the small front gate. After a quick pause to wait in line, Geralt hands their entry passes to the bored-looking teenage attendant at the window.

“Welcome to Hawthorne’s Haunted Halloween Spooktacular,” the dark-haired boy says in a tired monotone as he fastens the day-glo orange bracelet-passes around Geralt and Jaskiers’ wrists. “Enter only if you dare, and please remember to keep your hands to yourself inside the haunted houses.”

Jaskier's mouth opens as if to question the lad and Geralt ushers him forward quickly, into the half-assed Main Square area of the Halloween attraction.

“Do I really have to keep my hands to myself?” Jaskier asks, glancing down at where Geralt’s fingers are intertwined with his own. “Because I'd much rather stick to holding your hand!”

The Witcher bites his lip to keep from chuckling; the Faerie’s naivety about human society and traditions can be ridiculously adorable sometimes. “He meant that you’re not allowed to hit or kick the actors who work here. You have to keep your hands to yourself when you're around the employees.”

“Oh. Well of course!” Jaskier practically squawks. “It would be incredibly rude to do my host an injury!”

“That's well and true for everybody, most of the time, but people often react strangely when they’re frightened.”

Jaskier squeezes Geralt’s hand in reply, his antennae flicking back and forth in the air as his eyes sweep from one haunted house to the next. “There’s so many!"

“Yeah, that’s why they’re allowed to charge us so much to get in.”

“I paid for my own ticket,” the Fae sticks his tongue out. “You could have spared yourself the fifteen bucks and stayed home for the evening with a nice book or your sword or something equally boring and lonely, you know.”

“And miss out on seeing you absolutely shit your pants when an underpaid university student jumps at you with a chainsaw?” Geralt teases, “No way!”

Jaskier yanks his hand free from Geralt’s grip and makes his way to the closest attraction, which happens to be themed after a science lab. There’s a poorly ripped-off Doc Brown painting being mostly illuminated by a dying blacklight above the words: Laboratory of Despair: Enter Only if You Dare!

“Oh my gods, that’s so corny,” Geralt hears Jaskier mutter under his breath. The Witcher chuckles out loud this time and Jaskier whips around to look at him.

“It’s a terrible sign, yeah,” Geralt nods. “Now how about we see what the lab has to offer, hmm?”

Jaskier grips at the hem of Geralt’s hoodie sleeve and nods, betraying his nerves by worrying his lip between his teeth. His false bravado and anger from before have abandoned him completely. “Okay.”

Geralt steps through the fringe of black beads that covers the door and pulls his anxious boyfriend along behind him. He can hear the way Jaskier’s wings are shivering and twitching. The slender Fae's twin antennae dance atop his head, searching for information about his surroundings without making a sound. Geralt runs his thumb in gentle circles over the back of Jaskier’s knuckles, practically smelling the relief that pours off the pretty creature as they continue into the darkness.

A few steps later, just as a light appears at the end of the tunnel, a person in a cheap rubber bug mask pops out from behind a false wall, buzzing into Geralt’s personal space. The Witcher feels himself shoved back, a slightly smaller body coming between him and the half-bored actor. Jaskier hisses assertively, his whole body tense and alert, until the teenager disappears back behind the wall to wait for his next round of hapless victims to wander past.

Geralt leans down to whisper as they continue walking, “Did you just try to protect me from a seventeen year old in a shitty costume?”

“Can’t let my mate get hurt,” Jaskier replies simply. Geralt balks a bit. Mate? Is that what we are, mates?

“I appreciate it,” Geralt praises, enjoying the way his boyfriend preens at his words. “Even though I am perfectly capable of protecting myself.”

Jaskier doesn’t reply. Instead, he tugs Geralt close and continues bravely into the next section of the haunted house. His instincts had shown themselves once again, eager to prove to Geralt that he was a worthy partner. He couldn’t have known, of course, that he was far worthier than Geralt had ever dreamed.

#geraskier fluff #mothskier #mothman jaskier #cryptid jaskier #fae jaskier #geraskier haunted house #a very bouncey halloween #geraskier halloween #geraskier ficlet #geraskier halloween ficlet #inbox open for suggestions for more halloween stuff!#fluff #haunted house #spooky time #anything for my darling lyssa

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emperor-palpaminty · 3 years

Note

Bruh I am SOFT can I have Western Tech with Fluff prompt 20?

DOCTOR VICTOR TRECH THE THIRD HAS MY HEART, bless you anon, especially this prompt? i’m melting

Also I had to changhe names again, Shaeeah isn’t a very “western” name, Suu became “Sue”, and Jek is close enough I think so he’s good!

And for those of you who don't know the AMAZING creator of this AU @hellothere-generalangsty has started that Tech was GOING TO PROPOSE but the woman turned him down. Ouch. Naturally I will use this to make myself sad.

Prompt 20: “My, oh my. You’re such a beautiful creature.”

Tech rolled up his sleeves, tying off the stitch. “There.” He slowly clipped the string and set his needle in the sanitization bowl. “You’re all set.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Mrs. Laquwane smiled, her thick hair being tugged at by her son, Jek. “Are you feeling better, Shay?”

The girl nodded, glancing down at the puckered wound. "Will I get better?"

"Of course you will." Tech smiled gently, watching as Jek admired his sister's wound. "Ah, don't touch it, Jek." Sue tossed her son a frown, before turning back to Tech. "Here." He handed her a small jar, tapping on the lid. "Apply that to the cleaned surface every night. If you need more, let me know. I'll drop by next week to examine the stitches."

Sue smiled, pushing one of her thick braids over her shoulders. "Thank you, Tech."

“Of course, Mrs. Laquwane.” Tech smiled politely, nodding, as Shay grabbed her bonnet, examining the stitched in her arm again. “You have brave children.”

Jek tugged on his mother’s second braid, eyes gleaming in their sly, childish way. “Can I get stitches too?”

“Oh, heavens, I hope not.” Sue sighed as Tech chuckled, shaking his head slightly, waving politely as the trio left. He leaned on the doorway, chest swelling with pride- another long day of good work was done. A grin that only emerged when he felt like he had a genuine job well done fought its way onto his face as he ducked back into his office.

Tech slowly rolled up his things. He tugged the curtains shut and picked up his bag, sighing softly as he plunked his hat onto his head. Tech tucked his key into his pocket, shutting the door as he slowly began the trek home - just a few streets away.

It was only beginning to darken when he reached the inn. He nodded to Cid and tugged the watch from his pocket. He swelled with pride, examining the elaborate design on the clasp and the cover of the face. The time stated it was only now past six-fifteen, and he was late.

Cid frowned, puffing on her cigar. "You're late."

He offered a small smile, taking the little stack of mail she offered him. "I understand that."

She chuckled, tucking the cigar into her mouth. "Need some company? I bet one of the girls would-"

"No, I am quite alright." Tech spoke quickly, face flushing. "Thank you." Her laughter followed him up the stairs.

He unlocked his room, walking in, pausing briefly to light the oil lamp. The flame caught, and he blew out the match gently. He dropped the medical bag on his bed, sinking into the mattress with a soft creak.

He turned over envelopes, skimming the names on them. Some were letters from family, a letter from one of his Universities (probably inviting him to lecture), and one was...

The light spilled on the cream envelope, dripping like blood. The name alone made his throat dry. Miss Sawyer, he swallowed, fingers trembling. He opened the letter, shakily.

His face was warm, eyes unbearably hot reading the words- palaces of paragraphs, telling Victor how wonderful life was and how it wasn't the same without him. She had told him he wasn't enough when he had gotten on one knee. That being a doctor's wife was not suitable for a woman of her stature- and here she was, months later, pouring an arsenic-laced honeyed apology into a leaf of paper.

Tech stood, abandoning the letter on his bed. He took no time to try and tug his overcoat back on, or button his waistcoat- he just flew down the stairs, past Cid, tears blearing his eyes, throat chapped as he tore towards the stables.

It was about twenty minutes into the ride when he knew where he was going, horse slowly manuvering up the red hills, caked with rocks. He closed his eyes and leaned his head on the mane of the horse, inhaling its scent of alfalfa and leather. The horse knickered softly, pausing in it's canter as a dog barked.

Tech glanced up, pushing a hand in his sweat-slicked hair. The door to the house was thrown open, warm light pouring out into the falling night, and the herbalist ran out, a bulky jacket thrown on over her coat. She ran towards him, not walked, ran, her hair loose instead of pulled into a bun or braids. Her eyes shone even in the darkness as Tech climbed off the horse. "Doc, what-"

No words came from him. He reached out, collapsing against her, leaning down aw(wardky and pressing his face into her shoulder, every shaky breath inhaling the old smell of her jacket- smoke, pipe smoke, and vanilla. He clutched her, his breathing hitching.

She was secure, safe. He needed only her.

The herbalist only paused for a moment before closing her arms around him, vocalizing no objections. They stood together, the light at her back, and he steadily found his shakey feet on the steady ground of her.

Tenderly, she tugged away. "Let's go inside." She said, gently. "I have some tea, and a fire." Her lips pressed into a smile, and she nodded in encouragement, leading him to the warmth of her house, her home.

___

The couch was comfortable, Tech found, curled up, with the Herbalist handing him a cup of tea. He took a small sip, mumbling his thanks as she plopped down next to him, the heavy coat still on her shoulders. She watched him, eyes softened in the glow of the fire. "You've been crying."

He drew in a sharp breathe and started into the tea, the water bruising with leaves and their colors and he nodded. "Yes," He managed. He blinked to help bring some comfort to his dry eyes.

She crossed her legs, watching him. "You wanna talk about it?"

Tech glanced up from the cup, eyes scanning her face. "No," The doctor rasped. "I don't."

"Mm," She hummed, standing softly. Tech stared up at her as she moved, lowering her cup. "I can leave you alone-"

"No." Tech moved quicker than he could think, moving to her, crashing to his knees and grasping the skirt of her nightgown. "I can't be alone," His words were short of air, shallow. "Not again, not again."

He didn't want to look up. He just wanted to keep his face in her nightgown skirts, holding them- holding her- and forget what he had been running from. Hell, he had forgotten, the moment he saw her riding up to his stagecoach, like an angel of battle, and the only thing stirring in him was an overwhelming sense of her.

She moved her hands in his hair, shushing his cries. "Victor," She said, and the way she said it broke him. That concern, that love-

Quietly, she slid to her knees, too, and hugged him to her. "I'll stay, I'll stay with you. Or you can come sleep with me again." A rack happened in her lungs and she shook her head quickly. "Like last time. When I put my head in your lap-"

Tech picked his head up and kissed her, fingers winding in her coat. Her words were cut short by his kiss, the fire, the need in it. She hummed and pressed her hands in his hair, tugging him closer, tighter, and Tech felt like the fire- warm, hot, needy, comforting- his lust and his love were an oxymoron within themselves.

She pressed herself away, chest rising and falling against Tech's as her fingers brushed down to his waistcoat. Her eyes darted to his own, and she licked her lips, the delectible tongue peeking out from the supple fresh-kissed lips.

Tech ran his hand down the side of her face, the warmth exploding in his heart. "My, oh my," He sighed. Her skin was rosy, flushed from the kiss, cheeks the tint of rose-hips. "You're such a beautiful creature."

She sighed, leaning into him as he tugged her close, surrendering to his kisses.

Tech was done running for his past- he had found his future, here, in his arms.

#tbb western au #tech x reader #bad batch tech x reader #tech #gosh he's just so yummy #tech x you #bad batch reader insert #minty writes

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jinpanman · 3 years

Text

That Famous Happy Ending 2

summary: How does one react when they’re suddenly made of 2D and not human flesh?

pairing: prince edward!seokjin x nancy!reader

word count: 1.6k

genre: pg13, fluff, angst, royal!au, enchanted!au

warnings: cursing, you think you’re losing your mind (you probably are)

a/n: aha. i was suddenly inspired after someone left me a really nice comment and so i finally got brave enough to open my scarily large prince!seokjin doc to pull something out of it. 💞

⚠ this fic cannot be read as a stand-alone. please read the first installment before this one!

“Miss, I would like to please request that you do not push me again and just trust me!”

You choke on your breath. Is this man really sassing you out here in public? Looking like that?

“I have a name, you know!”

“I’m aware!”

“So then use it!”

“Well if you didn’t just try to kill me by pushing me in front of these giant metal horses, maybe I wouldn’t have forgotten!”

You really don’t know what you’re doing. You stopped thinking a long time ago. You’re just running on fumes at this point, and your usually very filtered, very polite brain has completely let go.

“I didn’t even mean to push you! This dress is just really heavy! I couldn’t stop myself because you decided to freeze on the sidewalk with no warning—Oh my god! What are you doing?!”

You watch in horror as the prince runs past a honking car right into the center of the street and lifts a manhole out of its place with great effort. It drops to the cement with a loud clang.

“Hurry up before another metal monster tries to kill me!”

Why did you agree to follow this strange man again? You can’t remember. Since when did you act without thinking through all the thousands of possibilities? Who even are you anymore?

“Are you fucking crazy?! You want me to go in there? With you?!”

He looks at you like you’re the one who’s crazy and sighs deeply.

“Must you always question me?”

“Oh my god! You’re going to kill me! I’m going to die because I followed a strange man! Oh my god, who’s gonna—” You pause in the middle of your rambling to think. No one’s gonna miss you. That’s right… You have no one waiting for you to come home. Not anymore, anyway.

Something wraps around your wrist and suddenly you’re being tugged into the empty street.

“I am so sorry for this miss Y/N, but you are being too slow and I must hurry back home!”

Before you can squawk, he pushes you into the dark hole of nothingness.

“Oh my fucking god! I’m gonna die!”

So you didn’t die.

At least you don’t think you have.

You fell down a seemingly never ending pit of darkness until a burst of pink lights spiraled from below you and began to circle around you, enveloping you in nothing but light. Then you’re spit out of this black hole.

“Oh shit!” you screech as you fall face down onto a grassy patch. You groan in pain and turn to lay on your back, chest heaving from overexertion of your lungs. You can just make out the clouds peeking behind the tree canopy.

“Watch out!” you hear Seokjin call out and you scramble away just in time. He emerges from what looks like a well and lands right where you were previously, just as ungracefully as you had.

It’s when you see him that you realize… he’s… a cartoon man now. With cartoony clothes on. What the fuck. With a shaky breath, you raise your hands in front of you and what you see causes anxiety to immediately bubble up inside you. Stay calm. Stay calm Y/N.

“P-Prince Seokjin?”

“Yes?” He groans and stands up, dusting off his hands. Then he sees your bugged out eyes and... oops, did he forget to mention that he lives in a cartoon world? Guess he did. You finally tear your gaze away from your hands and really look at the scenery. It only heightens your distress.

“Why- why do you look like that? Why do I look like this? Why are the trees so sparkly and pretty? Trees don’t sparkle!” Your pitch raises higher after every sentence. You’re doing your best to stay calm.

You’ve lived more than five years in the craziest city. You’ve seen a nudist streak several blocks in front of your work building. You’ve seen alligators on the loose in the streets. You’ve worked four days nonstop with no sleep to meet a client’s crazy deadline. You can handle more than a little stress. Yeah. You’re okay.

“OH! Oh, oh my god! I’m so sorry!” He clasps your hands in his and urges you to look at him. It doesn’t help. He surely was handsome in your world, but in his world he was somehow even more attractive. No pores in sight. A perfectly curled hair resting right in the middle of his forehead. Did his lips get plumper? What the fucking fuck.

“I’m sorry I forgot to mention that our worlds are, um, very different from one another?”

“Very different” is the understatement of the century! If this turns out to be one hell of a bad acid trip, you swear you’ll never take drugs again. You’ll be a good girl for the rest of your life. You swear on your dead fish Randy.

“I-I know it’s a lot to take in right now. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. B-but hey, at least we have talking animals? I swear I thought I’d lost it when the squirrels in your land wouldn’t talk to me!” He follows up with his imitation of squirrels squeaking.

Your face scrunches in further panic. T-talking…animals??? Are you in a Disney movie right now? You slowly fall down until you’re kneeling on your knees and hide your head between your legs.

“This isn’t real. I’m just really fucking high right now. Pretty soon I’ll wake up and call Yoongi and he’ll laugh and tell me I’m stupid and then I’ll go back to work and—”

Your voice dies down your throat. Yoongi. Even if this is fake, him leaving you isn’t. The throb of your heart tells you it’s true. Suddenly your current crisis doesn’t seem as horrific. You’re glaring intensely at your now very cartoony hands when you feel pressure on your shoulder. You jump, startled back into reality.

“I really am sorry, miss Y/N. We can go back to New Wark if you want to.”

“It’s New York.”

“New York. You want to go?” he asks and points to the weathered but very obviously 2D well.

Yes! Of course you want to go back! But your mouth and brain refuse to cooperate with you. Everything has shut down and you figure—you’re already here. Why bother going through that again? It’s not like anyone would miss your presence back in New York.

So fuck it.

“No… No, it’s okay. I’m sure I’ll get used to this soon. Ha ha.” You won’t. “Um, but you know. Since you’re the prince and all, I’d love to see your kingdom!”

Yes, yes. Change the topic. Don’t focus on your impending meltdown.

He immediately lights up. “Yes, absolutely! I’ll show you all there is to this kingdom!”

He turns and whistles a light tune. A moment later, a white stallion appears out from the bushes and approaches the two of you. He’s beautiful. His beautiful and silky blond mane whips in the air behind him as he gallops closer.

“Prince Seokjin! You’re back!” The horse cries out in a breathy and honeyed voice. “Why have you disappeared for so long? We all miss you so much!”

“Ah, Destiny, my friend! I’ve missed you too!” He wraps his arms around the steed’s neck. “Let’s not dally though! We have to get back to the castle. I have a lot to share with the kingdom.”

They’re so engrossed in their reunion they don’t notice the way you stare at the exchange with saucer wide eyes. “Oh… oh my god. It talks. It talks!” You’re laughing nervously, once again near hysterics.

The sky’s spinning now. Oh, how cool! The trees are getting much closer to you. Have they grown legs? Prince Seokjin is talking to you, you think, but his voice is so incredibly muffled… You’re so tired.

Then everything goes black.

It’s been three days.

When you finally came to after you passed out, you woke up in a pristine and very 2D bed. Inside a very 2D bedroom. You’d screamed again and Seokjin had barged right into your room, craze eyed and still just as handsome as ever. God bless this strange man. He didn’t leave your side once that entire day.

But it’s been three days now since you came to Andalasia and you think you’re managing okay without him.

By now, you’re certain this is real life. You didn’t take life-altering acid. Yoongi left you for a beautiful homewrecker. Dragons are real. Prince Seokjin is a stupidly handsome cartoon man. And the internet doesn’t exist in Andalasia. Living without your phone has been absolute torture and you miss the mindless scrolling through Instagram more than you’d willingly admit.

God do you miss waking up and mindlessly scrolling through Instagram and Twitter for two hours before getting out of bed. You wonder how your phone is doing. If it misses you as much as you miss it. You try to remember where you left it last. Probably in one of those lockers at that dance hall. Oh. The dance hall. The one where Jin’s step mother turned into a dragon… and Yoongi left you… Right.

But it’s fine. You’re fine. It’s been three days and you’re still alive. Maybe you’ll pay the prince another visit today. See if he’s found you a job yet since you’ll be staying here. Permanently? Probably.

You close your eyes and breathe. Focus on your breathing.

You can do this. You never needed to rely on anyone in New York. You figured your shit out on your own. You did it then, and you can do it again now. You’ll figure your shit out and you’re going to prosper in this new world.

“Good morning, miss Y/N! Looking forward to an amazing day!”

Your eyes peel open to see two yellow birds sitting at your windowsill, smiling—those fucking beaks are smiling—and seemingly awaiting your response.

You scream.

#btsghostie #btsgoldnet #btswritingcafe #possumswrite #jin fanfic #seokjin fanfic #seokjin fic #jin fic #bts fanfic #bts fic #seokjin fluff #jin fluff #kim seokjin #prince seokjin #prince jin #f:that famous happy ending

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brywrites · 4 years

Text

Lock and Key I

Summary: In which Spencer Reid stumbles upon a GED class at Millburn and feels something like hope for the first time in weeks.

[Series Masterlist]

....

The prison library is a haven, for the few minutes he’s allowed to visit twice a week. It’s quiet, secluded, and full of his favorite things – books. The selection is nowhere near as nice as his personal collection at home, or the public library, but it’s better than nothing. Without words, he’d go mad. He needs stories to keep him sane, to give him a route he can escape by.

Today though, he’s startled to walk into the small space and find twelve other prisoners inside – accompanied by a face he’s never seen before. A woman. What’s even more surprising is that she doesn’t wear the uniform of a guard or an employee. Instead she’s in Converse sneakers and a lavender polka-dotted dress. It’s been so long since he saw that color – any bright color, really. But it’s his favorite and it isn’t until that moment that the realizes how much he’s missed the simplest of things. The sight of his favorite color. Bright images in dull spaces. Things that look hopeful.

Reid isn’t sure what’s going on, but the other prisoners seem to be too absorbed in the books to notice him. Just as he’s thinking he can back away quietly and return tomorrow, she turns around, smiling at the sight of him.

“Well hello there!” she says. “Are you Luis?”

Reid tilts his head, confused. How does this stranger know his friend? “Uh, no, no I’m not. I’m sorry, who are you?”

Her smile drops, though she doesn’t seem annoyed. Merely disappointed. “Oh. They told me Luis would be joining us today, but he never showed up. I’m Y/N. I’m one of the teachers here.”

This is the first he’s heard of such a thing. “You teach?”

She nods. “That’s right! I teach a couple of different groups – a few college classes here and there, a resume workshop. This is my GED class. We’re starting a unit on British Literature so they’ve all come to pick out a novel. You must be new here,” she notes, looking him over. He can feel himself flush under her gaze. It’s been a while since someone looked at him just to see him and not to evaluate his potential as a threat or a tool. “If you’d like, you can join the class. I’ve got plenty of open seats.”

“Oh no, I don’t need a GED.”

“It’s never too late to graduate,” she says. Then, considering him, “But that’s not what you meant is it?”

The way she’s studying him makes him nervous, though he’s certain it’s the same way he’s studied suspects and victims, trying to see beyond the obvious and understand what lies beneath. How strange, to be on the other side of that stare. “I’ve graduated high school already,” he informs her, hoping he doesn’t sound aloof. “And college. Actually, I hold three PhDs.”

“In what?”

“Mathematics, chemistry, and engineering.”

Y/N holds his gaze, taking this in. It’s as though she’s trying to decide whether or not to believe him. He figures in this environment, perhaps it’s not unusual to be told blatant lies by some prisoners. Delusion and paranoia aren’t uncommon. To teach in a place like this, she would have to be insightful and observant. For whatever reason, she must decide to trust him, because she smiles again.

“Well that’s rather impressive. You’re more qualified than I am. Just a Master’s for me.”

Reid decides against commenting in the irony of the situation, that despite his qualifications he’s nothing but a prisoner here. The same category as every drug-dealer, murderer, petty thief, and gangbanger. No better. But the way she looks at him, it at least makes him feel normal again. She looks at him like he’s a human being, with no disdain or disgust in her gaze, and no air of superiority in her voice.

“What did you study?” he asks her.

“English literature in college, education in grad school. I specialized in literature and languages, though I’m not too shabby when it comes to history. If it’s the STEM field you’ll be wanting though, you’ll have to check in on Tuesdays and Thursdays, my colleague teaches those classes.”

Glancing down at her watch, her eyes widen. “Goodness, we’re almost out of time.” She turns to the other inmates and instructs them to make their choices before she has to dismiss class for the day. To him, she adds, “It was nice to meet you – um…”

“Doct-” he begins, before stopping himself. This isn’t a normal introduction. Here, he holds no title, no position of importance. “Er, Spencer. My name is Spencer.”

“Well, Doc –” He tries not to smile at her casual acknowledgment – “if you ever change your mind, we meet Mondays and Wednesdays in room W15 during the afternoon rec slot.”

Despite having no need to attend a GED class, and for reasons he cannot quite explain, he finds himself slipping into that very room on Wednesday afternoon. Y/N glances up from the whiteboard she writes on, faltering for only a brief moment when she catches sight of him slipping into an empty seat in the back row, but she carries on. They’re talking about common themes in Brit Lit, and she’s explaining the Canterbury Tales, which they’ll be reading parts of. From what Reid gathers, there aren’t enough copies of books for them to all read the same novel, but she’s printed out large sections of the Tales for them to read together. It’s familiar, and for someone whose life has largely revolved in academia, it’s soothing to be in an environment where learning is taking place and discussion is happening. Even though he sits silently in the back row, observing.

The other inmates have all picked out books to read on their own and report on, from King Lear to Brave New World. A few have even selected Bronte and Austen novels, which Y/N applauds them for. When she divides them into groups to read and discuss “The Knight’s Tale,” she slips over to join Reid in the back of the room.

“I didn’t think you’d make it, Doc,” she tells him.

He shrugs. “I – I’ve kind of missed the classroom. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to sit in. If you don’t mind, of course!”

“Not at all.” She smiles, dismissing his worry with a wave of her hand. “The more the merrier. Besides, it’s rare that I have students with such an extensive education beforehand. You’ll need to file an enrollment slip though, just for official records.”

She hands him a piece of paper and a commissary pen. While he doesn’t need the credit, he could use the normalcy. Discussions about books with other people in a space that feels a little safer – even if it doesn’t look like the classrooms he’s used to. The walls are stark white and bare save for three posters of famous writers and scientists. The two windows have thick bars on them. The desks are bolted to the floor. Every man in the room wears prison issued blues. But there is a whiteboard and a bookshelf and a clock. And Y/N, in a bright blue turtleneck. It makes him think of the sky, which he only gets a glimpse of for a few hours each week. Suddenly, she’s become the most vivid connection to the outside world.

“How long have you been teaching here?” he asks as he writes down answers to the form’s printed questions.

“Almost three years now. It started with just GED classes, but some volunteer programs have helped us bring new opportunities to the guys. It took me a while to convince the warden, but they’ve been a huge success. So are you coming from another facility? I know we had some transfers last week.”

He shakes his head. “I uh, I haven’t been sentenced yet. But there was overcrowding at the jail so they sent me here.” Reid pauses. “I assumed you would’ve known that.” The inmate records are publicly available. All she’d have to do is search his name or the number on his clothing and everything she needed to know would be right there – his charges, his admission date, his identifying information and that ID photo from his first day.

But she just shrugs. “I make a point not to look up what my students have been convicted of. I let them volunteer that information if they choose to, but I respect their privacy. Besides, I’d like to believe all of us are more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.”

He’s struck by her words. After all, for the last decade his job has been to see people precisely as the worst thing they’ve ever done. To delve deep into those actions and develop a profile of a person on that alone. He has an impulse to dismiss her statement as naïve, but it reminds him of Garcia, of her boundless optimism and her ability to see the best in the world even after looking at the worst of it. That memory and the smile Y/N looks at him with softens the heart he’s been carefully hardening since he arrived here. And so rather than dampen her spirit he asks, “Does it matter if I’ve read all of the books you’re discussing already?”

Her eyes widen ever so slightly with surprise. “All of them?”

“My mother was a literature professor,” he says. “And I just really like books.”

“Well, typically I’d encourage you to take the courses we offer for college credit but they’re full. Since you already have your GED, I suppose we could treat it like you’re auditing. It might help some of the guys to have someone with a little more academic experience…” She trails off and then gasps. “Oh wait! How would you feel about being the TA for the class? It’s been so long since I had one for the GED classes.”

“Like… grade papers and things?”

“No, not like that,” she says. “There are strict rules about who sees what here. Being a TA for me would be less typical TA duties and more of mentoring the other students, helping me clean up after class, re-shelving books, things like that. It’s not an official job so there’s no pay, but you would get good time credit.”

Though he doesn’t know what his sentence here will be, if he’s sentenced at all, he knows that any good time credit he can obtain to reduce the length of it is worth it. And so he says, “Okay.”

Y/N’s eyes light up. Her smile is the prettiest thing he’s seen since he got here. “Perfect! Oh, this is so exciting. I’m glad you joined us.” When he finishes the paperwork, she leads him to an empty seat at a group of tables.

“No, no, you’ve got it all wrong, Porkchop. It’s a love story,” one of the men is saying to another.

“Come on now, Xavier, you know the rules,” Y/N interrupts. “Nicknames stay outside the classroom. We use first names here.”

“Sorry, Teach,” Xavier says. He tries again. “It’s a love story, Carl.”

“That’s more like it. Carl, I can’t wait to hear your response. But first, I’m going to have Spencer join your group, alright? He’s our newest student and our TA for the class. He’s read a lot of these books so if you’re having a hard time or want to talk to someone about the material outside of class time, he’s a great person to ask.”

The group welcomes him – Xavier, Carl, Richie, and Luis. Reid is grateful to be with Luis, the one person he knows he can consider a friend inside. They talk about Chaucer and “The Franklin’s Tale,” and he’s surprised by the critiques and connections his peers make. Their debate is certainly different than the conversation he’d expect to find at a university class, but their ideas are still insightful and interesting. They make connections to their own lives, to the sacrifices they have made and the power of love they have witnessed firsthand. Mothers who never stop fighting for their appeal cases. Friends who send money so they can afford commissary. The difficulty of skipping commissary so they can send money home to their own families outside.

When their discussion finally winds down, Reid asks, “What’s the rule with nicknames about?”

“It’s Miss Y/N’s way of humanizing people,” Xavier says. “She says when we use first names like that, we’re all equals. But it’s different outside of class. We stick to nicknames because that’s what you do, y’know?” Reid shakes his head. Xavier chuckles. “You’re fresh meat, huh. First time you been down? In here, COs turn you into just a number or a last name. So nicknames inside are a way to hold on to some of your identity. Beyond that, there’s some guys in here you don’t want knowing your name, you feel me?”

“Nicknames gotta be given to you by someone else. Can’t make your own. Course, that means they’re usually a little insulting. They call me Porkchop,” Carl says. “Xavier’s Hammerhead. Richie is Spiders. And Luis, he been christened Slim Jim yesterday at chow. But don’t worry, we’ll find one for you soon.” Reid isn’t sure how to feel about the assurance. He doesn’t want to belong here, doesn’t want to fit in or get comfortable. On the other hand, he may be here for a while. Maybe laying low and finding allies wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

He knows one thing for sure – as he walks out of class, Y/N flashes that bright smile at him again. And for some reason, it makes him feel hopeful. More hopeful than any session with lawyers or judges has made him feel. Monday can’t come soon enough.

[Next]

Tags: @calm-and-doctor @averyhotchner

#criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #prison reid #prison!reid

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imanativeofswlondondahling · 4 years

Text

Being A Stark (3)- Peter Parker x Stark!femReader

Word Count: 1852

Warnings: None I think...

Author’s Note: Honestly I love this chapter so much, so I hope you all enjoy it. Let me know your thoughts or if you want to be tagged in the future.

Becoming A Stark || Chapter One || Master List

“Hey kiddo.” Your dad’s voice was the last thing you were expecting to hear while reading A Brave New World to get you ready for when you head off to classes. Technically this was the summer reading and you had already read it for the start of freshman year, but restarting ninth grade seems like a good reason to prepare yourself again. But you almost throw the book across the room at the sound of your dad’s voice.

“Dad?” You set the book aside, flipping it over to hold your place, and stand up to walk over to the bed. “You’re awake.”

“Sure am.” His left hand reaches up to scrub at his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’ve spent all your free time here.”

“Ok, I won’t tell you then.” You say as you look him over. He’s worse for wear, but you’ve never been so happy to see his eyes open. He reaches his good arm to take your hand.

“I’ve missed you kiddo.”

“I’ve missed you being awake.” You say, knowing he’s talking about the five years you were gone. It still doesn’t feel like you missed all that time, but there’s little things that are different. People’s haircuts, tech updates… Morgan. You have an updated pump coming to the cabin since yours is out of warranty now. “I hear you did it.”

“Mastered time travel to get you back? Yeah I did.” He smiles at you as he takes in the fact that you haven’t changed even though you were gone for five years.

“I meant the closed loop system, but that’s cool too.”

“Oh yeah, that. Did that about a year after the Blip. Figured I’d make sure you came back to something better. Spent the next four years focusing on…” he trails off. “Doesn’t matter. But then Capsicle, Nat, and Pissant show up telling me that they want to try and get everyone back. I couldn’t give up a chance to get you back. Get everyone back.” You sit down on the side of his bed, holding his hand in yours, his thumb running along the ring Pepper had given you for your birthday.

“I met Morgan.” You say and you see worry and joy both wash over his face.

“What do you think?”

“Well she took me by surprise. The whole Blip made everything feel like not even a day had passed. So having a five year old sister? That wasn’t something I was expecting. But she’s a pretty great kid.”

“She reminds me a lot of her older sister.” Tony says with a smile.

“I should let Dr. Cho know you’re awake. And Mo- Pepper.”

“Hold on a second.” His good hand holds onto yours. “What’s with this calling Pep by her name and not Mom?” You shrug, not wanting to voice your thoughts. “Come on. Spill. Talk to your old man about it all.”

“She’s got her own kid now. It’s different.” You shrug again, feeling unable to fully explain that you don’t feel like your mom will want you anymore now that Morgan is here.

“Y/N, she was just as upset as I was when you Blipped. Even more upset when she found out she was pregnant and you weren’t going to get to be there when Morgan was born. You’re her kid too. There is no not wanting you just because Morgan is in the picture now too. Same goes for me. We both love both of you equally. Our little misses are just going to have to get used to sharing their mom and dad.” His hand tightens on yours. “Now I don’t think I’m supposed to be moving a ton, so you’re either going to have to come here so I can hug you or I’m going to break a lot of rules, because I’ve waited for five years to hug my kid.” You smile at him before diving towards your dad. Your arms wrap around him, careful of the arm that is just laying there, and you hold onto him. His good arm wraps around your back, holding you to him. “This is what I missed the most while you were gone.” He says before kissing your cheek.

“I hear you hugged Peter.”

“I may have.”

“So does this mean you accept my boyfriend now?”

“If he makes you happy, I will put up with him.”

“Good.” You place a kiss on his cheek. “I’m going to grab Dr. Cho and call Mom.”

“You don’t have to go anywhere.” He says holding onto your hand, stopping you from getting up. “FRIDAY, tell Doc I’m awake.” You roll your eyes at not thinking about using FRIDAY. “Kiddo, you better know I’m not going to let you go very far for a while now. I spent five years without you.”

“I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.” You pull your phone out and shoot a message to your mom about Tony being awake. She’s only upstairs, using the kitchen in what used to be the apartment you lived in to make Morgan and you some lunch. “Did you know I have to restart ninth grade? I have to take Biology and Chemistry all over again and I’m going to die.” You say dramatically.

“I’ll be there every step of the way. Peter and I’ll make sure you pass. Just like last time.”

“I was barely passing last time.”

“But you already have the head start of having taken the first half of the semester.”

“That means nothing.” You say before another voice comes into the room.

“Daddy!” Morgan climbs up on the bed on his other side and gives him a big hug. “You slept longer than when I was sick.” She stares Tony down as if asking him to explain himself. She’s leaning away from his marked up arm, although most of it is covered by his hospital gown and the sling.

“I was really tired Morgana. Will you forgive me?” She nods her head before looking over at you.

“Daddy, Y/N came back like you said she would.”

“She did, didn’t she?” Tony smiles at his youngest, wanting to reach out with his right hand to push her hair back, but it’s currently trapped in a sling and not wanting to do anything.

“She played Barbies with me yesterday. She’s much better at it than you are.” Morgan states as if it’s a fact. “You should have come back sooner.” She says to you.

“I don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon. I think Dad might get mad if I do.” You stage whisper the last part to her. She shakes her head.

“He won’t get mad. He would just be really sad. He always got sad when he talked about you.”

“She’s got you there kiddo. I would miss you a lot if you left again.” Pepper sits next to Morgan, a hand drifting to place itself on Tony’s leg, needing to touch him.

“Hey.” Tony says, looking at Pepper. “Your eyes are red. Few tears for your long lost boss?” Tony smirks at her as if it’s an inside joke that you and Morgan won’t understand.

“If you ever do that again… I won’t be looking for a new job. I’ll be looking for a new husband, you understand that?”

“I missed the wedding?” You can’t help but interrupt. You should have caught it when Peter called her Mrs. Stark, but now you’re realizing what happened. Pepper turns from looking at your dad to looking at you.

“You didn’t really miss much. We eloped.” She explains.

“Wanted to be married before a certain miss, but didn’t feel right doing a whole big ceremony when all the important people would be missing.” Tony adds.

“Couldn’t have a wedding without my maid of honor.” Pepper smiles at you. “So now that you’re back, guess we can do a vow reunion or a real wedding or something.”

“Wait you’re serious? Me? Maid of honor?” You stumble over the words not fully believing what your mom was saying.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I have my daughter be my maid of honor?”

“Because you want someone older to do it?”

“If there’s going to be a wedding can I be the flower girl?” Morgan interrupts.

“Of course you can.” Tony reaches over to ruffle Morgan’s hair as Pepper comes to sit next to you.

“There is no one I would rather as my maid of honor than you.” She wraps an arm around you. “You’re the only one I can trust to make everything perfect. Honestly the only people that have to be at the wedding are you, Tony, and Morgan. Anyone else who is there is just a bonus. That’s why we couldn’t have the wedding without you.”

“I understand that. I just... I’m fifteen. You want a fifteen year old as your maid of honor? You could have anyone in the whole world. You could have one of the Avengers.” You point out.

“I could. But I want my daughter. And she’s back. So let’s plan a wedding.” She places a kiss on your cheek. “Sound good Maid of Honor?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“So I hear our patient is wide awake now.” Dr. Cho’s voice comes from the door.

“What’s the diagnosis Doc? How soon can you break me out of here?” Tony asks.

“Got to run a few tests, but I would say hopefully next couple days?” Dr. Cho looks at all the people sitting with Tony. “I may have to ask a few people to get off the bed so I can look you over.”

“Lunch was basically ready upstairs. How about the girls and I go eat and we’ll be back after?” Pepper suggests trying to get out of Dr. Cho’s hair.

“I’ll take Morgan upstairs. You stay with Dad.” You suggest. You know Pepper will want to know what’s going on anyway. This makes more sense. “You can come join us for lunch after the tests.”

“Ok.” You stand from the bed, stick your bookmark in your book you had forgotten about, before reaching for Morgan. You swing her off the bed and she squeals with laughter.

“Come on Momo. Let’s go upstairs. Maybe we can find some juice pops.” You whisper the last part loudly. Morgan giggles as she grabs onto your hand.

“Can we bring Daddy one later? He got hurt. He deserves a juice pop.” Morgan looks up at you with doe like eyes.

“I think we could probably do that.” You and Morgan walk towards the elevator as Morgan rambles on about different things. You honestly love the chatter of your little sister. Over the past few days, it’s filled the silence that your dad normally would and that calmed you some.

“Daddy’s going to be all better now right Y/N?” Morgan asks as you step on the elevator. “His arm still has a booboo.”

“His arm does have a booboo, but Dr. Cho is going to look at it and do what she can to help it. But Dad is going to be around for a long time.”

...A Stark Tag list: @persephonehemingway @iamaunicorn4704 @furiouspockettoad @daughter-of-stark @eternalharry @huntective-kyeo @riiis-stuff @sunnyoongles @cosmicqueenieb @sovereignparker @bbarnestan @teenwishes08 @iamthescarlettwitch @skyfallstilinski @cutie1365 @a-mnd @youarethereasonimsmiling @thefemalestorywriter @krazykendraisnotinsane @cathy8taffy @letssee2468 @babyreads @riyanna @theatregeek @bubblebunbun

Permanent tag list: @wormonastringonastick

strike won’t let me tag

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bellasweetwriting · 4 years

Text

Only The Brave

spencer reid x f.reader

not my gif

masterlist

plot; when the BAU goes to New York for a possible murder case, Spencer Reid gets to meet the captain of the 23rd Precinct of the NYPD, whom he immediately feels attracted to

warnings: fluff, angst, nervous Spencer, typical criminal minds stuff,

word count: 3.3k

Spencer arrived late to work that day.

"Woah... stop right there, pretty boy, " said Morgan as he interrupted him. Reid was trying to walk quickly to his desk and avoid any kind of interaction, but clearly, the curious FBI agents had other plans. "You look like if a train just ran you over."

"Not in the mood for your insults right now, Morgan, " defended Spencer as he sat on his chair.

"I'm not insulting you, I'm describing you."

"Well let me get you a Miss Congeniality award because you are just so darn delightful."

"What on Earth is going on with you, Doc? You never arrive late and even less with a sarcastic tone. What happened last night?"

Spencer couldn't hide it anymore. His pulse was unsteady and he was trembling. He had to tell someone.

"I had a bad date, " he murmured. Derek stepped closer.

"You what?" Derek asked, leaning in closer to Spencer. The doctor exhaled, looking around to Emily and JJ who were minding their own business before looking at Morgan.

"I had a bad date, " he repeated a little bit louder. Spencer sighed before continuing. "She was incredibly beautiful and the universe had to screw it up. Her name was Athena so I obviously started referencing the Greek Goddess which apparently she hated when that happened. And then, I started talking to her about organic chemistry, and guess what? She says "Oh! I took organic chemistry last year." so I obviously questioned if she was in college. Turns out, she's in senior year of high school... and I messed up the girl. She was waiting for a Sam, not a Spencer, and the girl I was supposed to meet had left an hour before because I never showed up. And Athena said that if I happened to actually be Sam, she wouldn't want a second date." Morgan raised his eyebrows, not knowing what to say. His problem was even worst than he imagined and he was kinda regretting asking in the first place. "So yeah, that's why I look like a zombie in The Walking Dead. How was your weekend, Morgan? Huh?"

"Oh my God! Spencer!" Exclaimed JJ as she approached them. Morgan started making signals with his hands to stop her from talking but she didn't look at him. "How was the date last night? Did you like my friend Amy?"

"Do you hate me JJ?" She looked at him confused. "Do you fancy awkward social engagements as a way of torture? Because if you have a problem with me then cry me a river and then drown yourself in it."

And with that, Spencer stood up and walked towards the coffee machine, leaving JJ really confused.

"Years of catching criminals and you don't understand simple hand signals, " critiqued Morgan.

"What on Earth happened on that date?"

"It is worse than you could possibly imagine. Probably will traumatize him and won't date for the next five years."

"Oh my..." whispered JJ while Morgan nodded.

"Guys!" Exclaimed Rossi, catching everyone's attention. "We got a case. A very important one."

"Do you know what case he's babbling about?"

"Nothing has come to my desk, " said JJ to Morgan. "That is weird."

Everyone entered the conference room and Spencer immediately walked towards JJ with a cup of coffee for her.

"Sorry for yelling at you, " he apologized. "I've just had a really bad night and took it out with you. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Spence, everyone has the right to be in a bad mood. I'm glad you apologized, and thanks for the coffee."

"You're welcome." Both sat next to the other, waiting for Rossi to announce the new case. "Do you know what this is about?"

"I have no idea, " she replied, soon enough to receive Rossi, who started presenting the images of four women.

"Four women have gone missing in the same neighborhood of New York City, no bodies have been found. The detectives on the case called me personally with the suspicion that this is no longer a missing person case and it's rather a murder case, drawn to the fact that the victims have comparable face structure, hair color, body type, skin tone, and social status."

"The detectives called you?" Asked JJ. "Are they the higher command or?"

"No, uhm, their boss didn't think it was a murder case but they seemed so sure over the phone so I decided to take the case and help them out. I mean is their case, they can do whatever they think it's appropriate and ask for help if they need to."

"So we have no corpses, and this hasn't been officially named as a murder case by the higher authority of these New York detectives. Am I getting everything or did I miss something?" Questioned ironically Derek and Spencer decided to answer anyway.

"And, they called Rossi personally instead of presenting the case to JJ's office or calling Hotch."

"Yeah, that too, " said Morgan. "Rossi is there another explanation as to why we are taking this case?"

"Fine, " Rossi broke, inhaling deeply, "I want to meet their captain. And also save these women, of course."

"What are you talking about? Who's their captain?"

"The youngest female police captain in the entire country, " replied Hotch. "She's younger than Reid."

"Woah, " whispered Spencer, "but didn't you say she doesn't know that we are coming and that she doesn't think this is a murder case?"

"We'll try to convince her, " assured Rossi.

"Wheels up in 30," said Hotch, even though he wasn't convinced.

•••

The team arrived at the precinct, receiving bad looks from part of the detectives and cops. Nobody knew that the FBI was supposed to come.

"SSA Rossi, " someone called Rossi. A detective in his mid-30s walked towards the team with a smile. "I'm Detective Garrido, we spoke on the phone."

"Pleasure to meet you, detective, is your partner here?"

"Yes, here, Detective Smith." A young man raised his eyes from the file in his hands and walked towards the team, greeting everyone with a nervous smile. "We are both on the case."

In the second, Hotchner interrupted. He wasn't feeling alright with this case, something was bothering him.

"Gentlemen, I'm SSA Hotchner, may we speak with your supervisor?"

"I was hoping you wouldn't ask that, " whispered Garrido.

"I'll go find her, " told Smith before walking towards their boss's office, not so sure about if it was a good idea.

Spencer looked at the case files next to Emily. Indeed, the victims were similar to one another, also neighbors. But also, they were similar ages, probably they go to the same school, probably even friends. There was something more about this case that Rossi wasn't sharing.

"What does your boss thinks about this case, Detective?" Asked Hotch, looking at the file Spencer was holding.

"Well, there is the fact that the girls are friends and she thinks they ran away, but we don't. We think there's something else going on."

"So you called us, " finished Emily. "Yeah, definitely there's something going on."

"You did what!?" The team heard someone screaming from the captain's office. Everyone glanced at each other, not knowing what to do or how to proceed.

"God..." mumbled Garrido before looking at the BAU. "Ready to meet the witch of the west?" He turned around. "She's a pain in the ass."

In that, the door opened. A young woman walked out of the office. You could see how the officers were scared of her, and how nobody looked at her directly in the eyes.

She was beautiful, she spread confidence at every step, and kind of made you step back a little. She was indeed scary, and she didn't seem upset about that. She knew that she wasn't liked, yet still, that didn't let that bother her.

"Agents, " Y/N said, looking at the team. "My name is Captain Y/L/N, NYPD. I'm aware that detectives Garrido and Smith called you about the missing girls' case, behind my back. Let me tell you that you are welcome to work the case here in the conference room, but you would work hard to prove to me that these girls are actually missing. Also, detectives Garrido and Smith are at your disposition since this is their case, and also, their last case." The captain turned around to look at the detectives. "We will talk about your suspension and transfer another day."

The captain looked again at the team with a pretended smile.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, captain. I'm Agent Rossi, these are Agents Hotchner, Morgan, Prentiss, Jareau, and Doctor Reid."

When Y/N reached Reid's hand, he felt electricity around his body. His eyes were fully focused on the captain. He couldn't help but smile. She was beautiful, her eyes shined as she greeted him.

"Did you know that being in love reduces headaches frequency in half?" He quickly said, surprising everyone. "When researchers at the Stanford University School of Medicine gave subjects with chronic headaches a nasal spray with a dose of oxytocin, or the "love hormone," in it, they found that 50 percent of participants reported their head pain to be cut in half after four hours, with an addition 27 percent reporting no pain at all in the same timeframe."

Y/N nodded before letting go of his hand, looking at the team with a tiny smile.

"Call me if you need anything. I'll be in my office." She turned around and walked towards her office, avoiding the detectives that tried to talk to her.

Morgan and Emily turned around quickly to look at Spencer, who was blushing and staring at the floor.

"Don't say a thing, " mumbled the doctor. "Don't even— no."

"You have the hots for the captain!" Morgan exclaimed, making Spencer stand up and walk away. "Wait! Reid!"

"Leave me alone!"

While Morgan and Emily were teasing Reid, Hotch and Rossi entered Y/N's office, finding her sitting on her chair, looking around case files.

"Captain, " called her Rossi, making her look at them, "about the detectives..."

"Don't try to tell me that they were doing the right thing and that I shouldn't transfer them or suspend them. They didn't follow my orders."

"But they said that you didn't think it was a murder case."

"A murder case? Do they think there is murder involved? They never approached me about their suspicion. Actually, I remember they took their case on their own hands, never consult me about anything around it. If you want me to be honest, four teenage best friends go missing the same day, no bodies found... I see that as a teenage rebellion, not a missing case. And now they think there's a killer involved?"

"Captain, they are just asking for our help, nothing more, " replied Rossi. "I promise you that this is nothing personal. I'm actually a big fan."

"Agent, what would you think if your team talked bad behind your back until the point that they don't even consult you on things like asking the help of the FBI. It is insulting. I can tolerate being called witch, not being completely ignored and taken for granted by two sexist detectives who think I'm not able to do my job. Now if you excuse me, Agents, I'll continue working while you find out who kidnapped these girls."

And with that, Y/N returned to work while Rossi and Hotch left the office.

"What did the Captain say?" Asked JJ, catching Spencer's attention.

"She's going to let us work, " replied Hotch, "but she's going to suspend the detectives."

"For not thinking like her?" Assumed Morgan. "That's stupid."

"No, because apparently they never shared the details of the case with her. They didn't even tell her that they suspected that the girls were kidnapped and not that they left and were missing. And she's right."

"Let's just find these girls, " told Hotch as he sighed. "What do we got?"

•••

After the parents of the girls received a mysterious call from part of the kidnapper and Garcia wasn't able to identify the caller, Y/N started to believe that this was the work of a kidnapper, and after a few hours, the BAU was able to present the profile to the officers and the Captain.

"We are looking for a white man, between his late-30s and mid-40s, shy, probably works in the school of the girls as a janitor."

"He was able to track the girls' routine, by knowing exactly when they leave school and when they arrive home, also, knowing that the girls were going to be together on Friday, " said Emily.

"We think that we are not dealing with a killer for now. It's most unlikely that the stalker would kill his victim in the first 48 hours. He wants to spend time with them, complete the fantasy that he has made up in his mind with these girls as it leads, " announced Spencer."

"He was probably raised with sisters that weren't nice to him. He was probably bullied by his siblings and now he's trying to seek revenge with girls that look like his sisters, that's why he picked girls who are close to one another and also, that look alike."

"How are you certain about that?" Asked one of the officers.

"In the message that the Unsub left to the parents, he said "They are going to pay. They are going to pay for what they did.", clearly talking about his own personal experience that he now portrayed in the four girls. It's most likely that the stalker brought the girls to his own family house to complete the fantasy."

"We are looking for people that worked on the high school the girls attended. A shy employee with a low position, trying not to upset any of his superiors, with a job that makes him able to watch the girls. He's had this plan on his head for a long time."

"Give this profile to the workers at school and the parents, see if someone like that has done work in their houses. It's possible that he has stepped outside his comfort zone before and has actually interacted with the girls previously."

At the end of the profile, the BAU looked over the captain, waiting for her approval. She nodded before standing in front of the officers.

"You heard the FBI. Catch this guy and bring these girls home. Dismissed."

The officers stood up and left the conference room, leaving the Agents, the two detectives, and the captain. Y/N turned around, nodding slowly.

"Thanks for your help, Agents. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Actually, " said Morgan, making Spencer even more nervous than he already was. "You can join the doctor as he looks for records about the employees in the girls' high school."

"Absolutely. After you Doctor Reid." Spencer nodded nervously before walking towards the door, promising to himself that he was going to kill Morgan when the case ends.

•••

"Could you remind me what are we looking for?" Questioned Y/N as she looked over the files of the employees in the Dean's office.

"White male, late-30s to mid-40s, no complaints in his job, probably a janitor, PE coach, counselor or a teacher, something that gives him the opportunity to be close to the girls."

"You said that he probably did some work in one of the girls' houses, " Y/N pointed and Spencer nodded. "Don't know about you but I would be able to tell if my teacher is fixing my kitchen."

"It's very hard to predict when and how the unsub stepped out of his comfort zone. This kind of stalker is unlikely to have criminal records or even complaints against him. They are a ghost, dreaming about his mission for a long time. They are cautious, organized, intelligent. Probably new to the job. Look for people that started working at most two years ago."

The captain nodded. Both reached for the same file, making their hands touch one another. The doctor looked at her quickly before she softly looked at him. Both moved their hands, pretending as if nothing happened.

Y/N wasn't able to say when she felt Spencer's hand touching hers. It was like an electric current traveling her body.

"How do you remember all of this stuff?" Interrogated the captain and Spencer smiled.

"I have an eidetic memory, " he replied. "I remember a lot of stuff all the time." He glanced at her. Y/N was smiling. "Did you know that being married and in love makes you live longer? According to a study published in the Journal of Marriage and Family, married individuals were 58 percent less likely to die over an eight-year period compared to those who had never made it to the altar."

"That's something good to know, " Y/N said with a smile before looking at the records again. "Hey, I think we got our guy."

Y/N gave the curriculum to Spencer, who read it. Immediately, he called Garcia so she could look into the guy.

•••

Michael Wood had the four girls in the basement of his family house just as Reid said. Garcia was able to look into Michael’s life and turns out his month died about two weeks ago and left the family heritage to his sisters and not him, acting as his trigger.

"Detectives, " the captain called, "you were right. Next time, try to talk to me instead of acting on your own."

"So, are we suspended?"

"Yeah, you are. Two weeks. That would let you learn to not disrespect your superior again. But... you will still work at the precinct after your suspension." Both nodded. "Now, leave your gun and badge in my office. See you in two weeks with a new case. Dismissed."

The captain turned around to look at Spencer, who was nervously waiting next to his black SUV. When she saw him, she slowly walked towards him with a tiny smile threatening to appear in her face.

"Good case, captain, " he said to her. "We brought the girls back home and you earned more respect, it appears."

"It appears that way, " Y/N whispered. "You know the worst part of being a police captain?" He shook his head while she exhaled slowly. "I miss the field. Catching bad guys, rescuing people. I missed it."

"Well, you are great at it." Y/N chuckled.

"Being a captain has been my dream forever, but sometimes I tend to forget how good it is to be a detective, solve cases, and interrogate suspects. That's maybe why I was so pissed at Garrido and Smith. They have nerve, they follow their instincts. If they hadn't disobeyed my orders, God knows what would’ve happened to those girls. Being the youngest captain in the country has his downsides. I'm always focused on doing the right thing and following procedure that I tend to forget why we are doing this in the first place you know. I'm always focused on gaining my peers' respect than, I forget that the best way to do that, is to be good at my job."

Spencer nodded. He had some experience in trying hard to prove that you belong with the rest.

"You are excellent on your job, Y/N. You are where you belong and you just need to get in the field more often, remember why you do what you do and why you deserve what you have."

Y/N nodded before kissing softly his cheek. She turned around and started walking away. But before she entered the precinct, she turned around quickly, giving Spencer a simple smile.

"If you are ever in New York again, give me a call." And with that, she finished entering the building.

Morgan approached Spencer with a tiny smile as he saw him still looking at where the captain was just standing.

“Appears that the universe compensated you for that terrible date.”

“It appears that way, doesn't it?”

#fanfiction #writer #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #writing #y/n #pov #reid #reid x reader #reid x y/n #fanfic #imagine #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine

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