#BUT i did immediately work the right pronoun into the next sentence so i fixed it!

[doctorwhoisadhd]

literally cries one of my 7yos (7!!!!!! theyre 7!!!!!!!!!!) had a little they/them pin today

[modelbus]

Hii! Can I request a Tommy x reader (romantic) where they’re just chilling at Tommys apartment together and she jokingly hits him with a pillow and runs off and he catches her and they start play fighting just lots and lots of fluff <33 she/her pronouns or they/them if you want

I am a sucker for fluff... I used a third person POV for this one! Let me know if you like it, or which POV you prefer.

Pairing: Tommyinnit x Female!Reader (romantic)

Fluffy Fighting

"You can edit more in the morning, please get some sleep." She begs.

Tommy, ever persistent on his editing conquest, doesn't even turn his chair around to answer. "I'll be done eventually."

"But at what cost?"

To that he doesn't reply. Although she knew Tommy loved YouTube and Twitch, this was taking it a bit far. Some of his subtitlers went on vacation so he decided to subtitle his video himself, but it was just taking forever. A whole day of editing! That meant she hadn't gotten to spend any actual time with her boyfriend despite having been invited to his apartment.

"You're going to fuck up your sleep schedule." She tries again, but to no avail.

Stubbornness was both a good and a bad trait, for this exact reason.

"I'll fix it eventually." He dismisses.

That's it. Grabbing a pillow from the bed, she stands and quietly approaches him. He doesn't spot her, so she hits him on the head with it.

Immediately, his hands stop moving on the keyboard and mouse. With a swallow, she backs up a few steps and drops the pillow. At least he's spun his chair around?

"Did you just hit me with a fucking pillow?"

"No?"

The way his lips are tugging up into a grin, ruining his fake frown, betray him. See, she knows that look. It was his bad idea look, his "I'm going to drag you into my bad idea look", and in general his mischievous look. So, like any sane person would, she turns tail and runs.

Within seconds she can hear him running after her. The thing about Tommy was that he was tall with long legs, meaning she was absolutely screwed.

“Get back here, bitch!” He yells.

She raises her middle finger in his vague direction, too busy rounding the couch to actually look behind her. When she fakes left he jolts that way, and when he fakes right she jolts the other way.

To her right is a half-finished Lego set, so she grabs a Lego and chucks it at him.

"Hey!" He yells, finding it and throwing it back. "Leave my Legos out of this!" After a second of a weird stand-off, he attempts to hop the couch. It’s more of an awkwardly slow tumble, sending her into laughter.

Unfortunately for her, he recovers quickly. Noticing a second too late she barely turns around before he’s grabbing her wrist and tugging her backwards. Arms wrap around her waist once she’s in range, trapping her in his embrace.

“I am going to suffocate you.” He announces.

“Wait, please, I have a family.”

“Not anymore!”

"I have so much to live for!" She fake sobs.

"Like what, bitch?!"

A small smile grows on her face, her next words glaringly obvious.

"Well, I have this boyfriend named Tommy who I'm pretty sure would like me to live."

"Well what if he doesn't?"

"...fuck. Didn't consider that."

Finally, Tommy laughs and breaks his character.

"Guess my boyfriend won't get kisses from me anymore." She hums, slipping out of his now-relaxed hold.

"Wait." He pouts. "I do want you to live!"

"Oh, in that case..."

She turns around to face him, leaning up for a kiss. After a second she can't help herself, and mumbles against his lips, "I win."

"What?" He laughs, pulling away with a faint blush.

"You aren't editing. I win."

"You tricked me!"

"Yup. And it worked. So you have to go to bed now, because I won."

"I didn't agree to that!"

"My rules."

"This is-" A yawn cuts him off halfway through, and he doesn't attempt to finish the sentence.

"Exactly. Come on, we can fall asleep to Moana or something."

"Moana is actually so fucking good."

"I know, I know."

Before she can head back to his bedroom, he steps closer again and kisses her again. Her hands go around his neck, his around her waist, and they sway just a little.

“Fine. Let’s sleep.” He finally relents.

Now that he's given up trying to resist, it only takes a few minutes for the both of them to find their way to bed. Moana plays on his laptop, but it's almost useless as they both find themselves falling asleep within minutes, curled safely into each other.

[dj-simp]

☀️Daycare Attendant Meeting a Contortionist! Reader🌙

Requested by: Anon

Reader is gender neutral and mainly referred to as “you.” Sun/Moon are given they/he pronouns.

You can view this as either romantic or platonic.

~

Being one of the VERY few janitors in the Mega Pizzaplex was.. interesting to say the least. The other janitors were in different parts of the Pizzaplex, cleaning up tough stains, getting rid of dried gum, or whatever was assigned to them that the S.T.A.F.F. bots couldn’t get done. Sometimes you get to see one or two of them when you leave, giving them a little wave and a smile. Other times, they’ve already left or are still working on something.

Today, you were cleaning up the Superstar Daycare. It was a cute little place. You find yourself bobbing your head to the strange music. It was pretty catchy!

There was a mess that needed cleaning, and it’s in a spot that’s a bit too small for you to reach! But luckily, you have just the trick.

Laying on your chest, you lift your lower body up in the air. Grabbing your feet, you pulled them down and planted them right on the floor. Your flexibility was something people were amazed, yet shocked by. Seeing someone twist and bend themselves into strange positions would surely frighten someone if they weren’t expecting it. But there was nobody in the Daycare. Not a single bot in sight.

At least, that’s what you thought.

☀️Sun☀️

⭐️ Although he was delighted to have a guest, the Daycare was closed! But despite that.. they wanted to see if he could have a slumber party with their guest! They dove into the ball pit and made their way towards his new friend. Until he saw a… concerning aight.

⭐️ His rays almost popped out of his head in shock. Are humans supposed to BEND LIKE THAT?? Certainly not! They knelt next to you and quickly began asking questions.

⭐️ “N-New friend! What happened here? How did this happen? This doesn’t look like something a bandaid could fix! Let me help you… w-w-wAIT!! Did you break a bone? MULTIPLE BONES?! I don’t want to hurt you further by moving you around! I’m so, so, so sorry, but I don’t think there’s anyone in here that can help you! Should I call an ambulance?”

⭐️ You stared at the animatronic with wide eyes as they rambled on and on. His rays made clicking sounds as they rattled. It almost seemed like they were about to burst. You immediately got out of position, and stood up normally. That seemed to calm them down. “Dude, look. I’m fine. I’m a contortionist. I actually used to be a part of the circus.”

⭐️ Sun took a moment to process what you said, then jumped up. Although he couldn’t change his facial expression, you knew they were relieved. “Oh, I’m so GLAD that you’re alright! I didn’t mean to jump to conclusions, there… I was just so worried about you! I didn’t think there would be a person who could do the same tricks as me…” The last sentence made you perk up.

⭐️ Sun was more than happy to show you all the neat little tricks they could do. There were some things that were impossible to do, however… but that didn’t matter. You clapped your hands, then mimicked whatever position Sun did. Either you’ll be the last human janitor leaving, or you’re having a slumber party.

🌙Moon🌙

⭐️ The lights began shutting off, row by row. You were too focused on the stain until it became dark around you. You froze, but weren’t all that concerned… until a tinkling of bells echoed throughout the daycare. The light ringing was a bit eerie since the lights were off. It didn’t help that something (or someone?) literally landed right next to you.

⭐️ You kept still, as if you were in a Jurassic Park movie, and shuddered as you heard a low giggle. Were you in a horror movie right now? You prayed you weren’t. This isn’t how you were expecting to go out. And if this was a prank.. you hated it!

⭐️ “Well, well, well~! Seems like this little star here is quite talented… mind showing off a bit more of what you can do? I might be a bit interested. And you know… it’s past your bedtime… but I can make a small exception.. if you could do something impressive. But if you can’t.. I’m afraid it’s BEDTIME for you, little star~”

⭐️ …so all you had to do was show off all the positions you needed to do just to impress this stranger? Doesn’t seem so bad! But after getting out of position and making eye contact with two glowing red dots, you started to feel a bit intimidated. You were glad you brought a flashlight with you.

⭐️ Turning it on, you got to see the face of the nighttime animatronic, Moon. Their appearance was unsettling, but you’re not really the one to judge. You grin at them. “Alrighty, Mr. Moon, I know you’ll be more than just impressed! Even if my circus tricks are a little rusty, they’ll certainly blow you away.”

⭐️ Moon showed off his flexibility as well, which was pretty unfair. They’re a robot, and was blessed with the ability to do positions that would cause you broken bones. The two of you.. may have gotten rather competitive.

[chiliiscereal]

So my friend has been on and off lately.

I decided to write this for me cause I needed it.

Requests are open!

Chosen last

Summary:

Readers friends only invite them to things if they have no one else to go with. Reader keeps their mouth shut about it and just guesses that this is how friendship works. One day they meet the turtles and April, and for once they’re not chosen last.

Pairing: platonic turtles x reader

(Implied female reader but I’ll do my best to avoid pronouns! Sorry if a she/her slips out)

“I couldn’t find anyone else to go with me so do you want to tag along?”

“I had a plus one and everyone else was busy.”

“No one else can make it and I don’t want to be lonely. Wanna go with me?”

“Sorry I guess I forgot to invite you!”

“What do you mean you were there? I could have sworn you were somewhere else... huh poor memory I guess.”

“Sorry! There’s no room for you to come with! Next time for sure though!”

All of those were common things you’d heard before.

You weren’t exactly sure if it was a normal thing in friendships. It must be since no one else mentioned it.

Still, it hurt that you weren’t prioritized. You were always the last thought. Last minute.

And you always said yes.

Someone needs you to be their plus one for the dance so they don’t look bad?

There you are.

Someone needs a wingman for this boy they like?

You’re already on your way.

It’s not that you minded.

You just wanted to be... appreciated.

You just wanted them to see you.

Maybe they would if you kept trying.

Maybe they would if you made them a homemade gift for each birthday.

Maybe they would if you always answered back their texts right away.

You thought you needed to earn the right to be appreciated.

You realized how wrong you were when you met the turtles.

————

You brought your jacket closer around your body, shivering.

Of course you had to walk home! Alone! In the dark! In the RAIN!

Apparently it was too much to ask for a ride home after hanging out. There wasn’t enough room in the car!

Of course.

Just like every other time, asking to come along was too much.

You shivered again as rain dripped down your back.

“This sucks.” You groaned.

You eyed every dark alley way. You’d read enough fanfiction to expect some cringey creepy man to come out and attack you.

But what DID attack you was completely unexpected.

“LOOK OUT!” A voice shouted.

You didn’t even have time to flinch before something landed on top of you. The weight of it brought you to the ground with a shriek.

“Sorry about that!”

That wasn’t a ‘something’ but a someone!

They scrambled off you quickly.

You stood up and whipped around, rubbing your aching head. “What the hell were you doing?! Do you do parkour on the rooftops or something?!”

Ugh, today just wasn’t your day.

Finally, you glanced up.

They... they clearly weren’t a human.

Green skin...

Orange dots?

A... a shell??

And an orange mask.

Your jaw nearly dropped.

The creature gave you a sheepish grin. “Umm... hey! Yeah... maybe.. possibly... I was doing parkour on the roof...?” He rubbed the back of his neck and eyed the sky, a blush forming across his face. “I was on my way... my way to the comic con!”

He must be looking for a way to leave.

You weren’t ready for that though. You still needed to know what he was! And possibly his name!

You inched closer, holding your phone closer. Just in case. “What... what exactly are you?”

His eyes were on the floor now, as if your words had made him... upset.

“Sorry if that offended you!” You responded immediately. Ugh why did you word it like that? You didn’t mean it as if you thought he was a monster! “I just... I’ve had a really confusing night, my mouth runs faster than my brain, and I just got body slammed into the cement!” You rubbed the back of your head again.

He seemed much more satisfied with this answer. “Well... I don’t think you’d believe me...”

You eyed him up and down. “Dude, I think just looking at you would be enough for me to believe you.”

He let out a small laugh. “So ummm... yeah. I’m a turtle?”

You frowned. “Yeah, I think I see that.”

Well this was a strange turn of conversation.

Why not?

It’s New York after all.

He shuffled nervously. “People aren’t really supposed to know about it.”

You waved him off. “Psh, I don’t have anyone that would want to hear it or believe me anyway.” You stepped closer, your grip on your phone loosening. “Honestly, that’s pretty cool! I didn’t know people like you existed!”

It hurt but it was true.

Your friends would think you were making stuff up for attention.

“MIKEY!”

The new voice cause you to nearly jump out of your skin.

Three people, just like this guy, landed by his side.

One with a red mask and build like a tank.

Another with a blue mask and strange yellow stripes.

The last one had a purple mask and a staff of some kind.

“Are you okay, little man?” The red one asked worriedly. “You just took a huge fall!”

“I swear you’re gonna be feeling that a week from now.” The blue one snorted, resting his SWORD on his shoulder like it was a baseball bat.

“I estimate it’ll be closer to three weeks.” The purple one corrected, tapping a device on his wrist.

You stepped back.

There were more people like... Mikey? Was that his name?

Well, might as well find some way to get into this conversation. You weren’t gonna let the most interesting thing that ever happened to you slip away.

“You’re name’s Mikey?” You asked, the three surrounding the orange masked turtle jumping.

“Human!” The blue masked one shouted.

The large red one shoved Miley behind him. “Hi! Uh... we... we were just on our way to Comic-Con!”

“Guys-.” Mikey tried only to get Interrupted.

“Could you help us find our way?” The purple one joined, cutting him off.

You raised an eyebrow. “Nice try. I already know you guys are turtles.”

“Dang it Mikey!” The blue one shoved Mikey. “You just gonna spill our secret to everyone you meet in New York?”

“She deserves to know!” Mikey squeaked. “I messed up a flip and body slammed her into the concrete!” He turned to you, eyes hopeful. “And... she didn’t seem scared of me!”

This stopped the other boys.

Mikey shoved them all away from him. “These are my brothers! Leo,” he pointed at the blue one, “Donnie,” the purple one, “and Raph!”

You waved awkwardly, eyes landing warily on the largest one.

These guys didn’t seem as sweet and trusting as Mikey.

Donnie was looking you up and down for any sign of a threat.

Leo has his sword out.

Raph has his tonfas ready in his fists.

Maybe it’d be better to just leave.

“I’m not gonna tell anyone.” You shook your head to further emphasize your point. “I was just walking home anyway. All of this...” you spread out your arms, “was a complete accident.”

Mikey gave you a toothy grin. “Yeah, sorry about that.” He turned to his skeptical brothers. “She seems nice! She could be just like April!”

You kicked at the ground sheepishly now that the attention was back to you. “You can just go and I won’t tell anyone.”

“We can’t just let you go.” Donnie scoffed.

For a split second, you thought they were going to kill you for finding out their secret. Or kidnap you. Something bad.

“Not with that whole situation.” He gestured to your forehead.

Curiously, you reached up and touched it.

Your fingers were wet with blood.

Go figure.

“No, it’s fine, really.” You assured them. “My apartment isn’t too far-.”

“Please, it’s fine.” Raph waved you off. “It’ll make up for this bonehead over here.” He loosely jabbed his thumb in Mikeys direction.

You wanted to say yes.

You wanted to say yes so badly.

“I don’t know, you probably got plans.” Leo shrugged, putting his sword away. “It’s a Friday afternoon, after all.”

That was enough for you to make a decision.

“No, I’m actually free.” You offered. “I actually don’t even have a medicine kit at my house-.”

“Alright let’s go!” Mikey grabbed your wrist excitedly and lead the way, not even waiting for you to finish your sentence.

————

You only meant to spend ten or fifteen minutes there, tops.

But after Donnie had your head taken care of Mikey wanted to know if you wanted to play a video game.

You couldn’t say no.

Then, after an hour of the Lou jitsu game, Leo wanted to know if you wanted to check out his sword.

You felt like you had to say yes.

It’s not every day you get to see a sword!

After accidentally getting portalled to New Jersey and FINALLY making your way back, Donnie wanted to know if he could borrow you.

He needed to fix his computer and he needed your smaller fingers to reach the back for him.

Saying no just wasn’t an option.

After almost exploding the poor piece of technology, Raph wanted to know if you knew April O’Neil.

You heard them mention her earlier but you didn’t know they meant THAT April. You’d seen her around before but never really talked to her. Who knew she’d be involved with mutants from the sewer?

He invited April to join them as well.

He thought some human company and someone who would make you feel more normal about the whole situation would make you more comfortable.

He was right.

April was AWESOME.

You hadn’t realized how loud and how fun she could be!

She talked to you about how she met the turtles and every little adventure they went on!

You hoped, secretly, that you could be a part of newer ones.

Eventually, the time came for you to leave.

You were sad of course, but you felt happier than you had in days.

You left with five new numbers in your contacts list and a baked green bean casserole from a rat.

Maybe you should get body slammed into the concrete more often.

————

“Wanna go to that party with me after school?” Your friend asked casually at the lunch table. “Dana couldn’t go with me and everyone else is busy. I need a plus one!”

You smiled as you responded to a meme Leo sent you, your friends words going in one ear and out the other.

“Y/n.” She asked again.

Still no response.

“Are you even listening to me?”

You snapped out of it and straightened up. “What?”

“You and I are going to a party after school.” She informed you. “We should probably pick out our outfits right when it ends. I don’t know if I’ll be able to drive you but you can just walk-.”

“Oh,” you picked your phone up again, “sorry, I have plans.”

This got her to stop. “You have plans? But you never have plans?”

Your other friend snickered. “Yeah, you’re a hermit! You never go out or do anything!”

You blushed furiously. “I’m going to my friends house to watch a movie, okay? I’m not a hermit.”

“A friend, huh?” One of them rolled her eyes. “How come I’ve never heard of them before?”

“I just met them last month.” You picked at your shirt nervously. Why weren’t they happier for you?

“Them?” Another repeated, shocked. “You have more than one knew friend?”

“Yeah.” You straightened up a bit. “Them. They’re super nice but they don’t go to our school.”

The first one rolled her eyes. “Fine, whatever, think what you want. But I need you to sit with me and Jake at the park tomorrow so he can compare-.”

You didn’t even let her begin to finish her sentence. “I’m busy that day.”

“Again?” She gaped. “Seriously?”

“Now you’re just making stuff up.” Another scoffed.

“Why is it so unbelievable that I’d be busy?” You glared at them, clutching your phone protectively. “You’re all busy all the time! Why can’t I be?”

They glanced at each other with knowing looks.

“Because you barely talk to anyone! No offense, but you can be really boring.” The one next to you shrugged. “What even is your friends name anyway? You’d have said their name if they were real.”

You felt your face heating up.

Boring?

Quiet?

“His name Mikey.” You grumbled. “And maybe I don’t talk because none of you give me a chance!”

“A boy?!” The one in front of you gasped. They didn’t even acknowledge any of your other words. “Please, how could you score a boy?”

“He’s probably really ugly, no offense y/n.” One chuckled as if she were joking.

You had enough. “You know, I’m feeling a little crowded. I’m gonna go sit somewhere else.”

“You don’t even have anyone to sit with! You’re a hermit, remember?” One girl called out to you.

“I do have someone to sit with.” You growled, heading for April’s table. You should have started sitting with her a long long LONG time ago.

“Alright, see you Monday I guess.” Was the reply.

The way they just blew it off... UGH. You wanted to punch something.

“Hey, what brings you to the cool kid table?” April grinned, shoving Dale over to make room. “Aren’t you supposed to be with your other friends?”

You managed to shove away the buzzing anger in your head, replacing your frown with a matching smile. “Nah, there’s not enough room for me AND their egos.”

April snorted, assuming you were joking. “Well there’s always room for you here!”

Those were words you’d waited too long to hear.

—————

You still saw your old friends and occasionally filled in for them when they needed an extra.

But you denied their offers more and more.

For once, you knew what it felt like to be prioritized.

“Hey we’re gonna watch a Lou Jitsu movie, wanna come?”

“I saw this glass painting trend online and I thought you’d want to come over and do it with me!”

“I heard this song and I thought you’d like it. Here’s the link!”

“Check our this hilarious meme!”

“Dale and I are gonna go to that shin dig. I don’t know if that’s you’re thing but you’re welcome to join us!”

What a refreshing change of pace

Let me know if I should make a part two!

[get-shiggy-with-it]

#1 Victory Royale

✧ pairing: college student!spinner x student!afab!reader

✧ word count: 4.4k

✧ warnings: college au/no quirks, light angst, mostly soft/fluff, smut, could be hate fucking if you squint, afab reader but no pronouns, this is pretty tame, by like my standards, I wrote this at work, not really a warning, but it felt like you needed to know that

✧ summary: relationships suck and Spinner is starting to think maybe he does too

✧ ao3 mirror

✧ a/n: Hey y'all, welcome back to more college au bs from me. This is set in the same universe once again as all my other college pieces. A very sweet anon asked if we'd ever get to see more of Spinner, so here he is! Also with another cameo from shiggy's bitch (endearing) cause I can't help myself.

“Ughhhhhh….”

Spinner’s groaning echoed through the tiny apartment, the heavy sound of creaking couch cushions under his weight following.

“What?” his long-suffering roommate shouted out their bedroom door, rapidly shoving clothing and a toothbrush into an overnight bag.

“Uggghhhhhhh!”

He let out with another, louder dying animal wail. He’d been like this since they woke up—wallowing in some strange concoction of self pity and Red Bull on the kitchen floor when they walked in for water two hours ago.

“Motherfucker,” they mumbled, tossing their bag to the floor and marching, more than a little disgruntled, into the hall. “What do you want?”

Spinner was sitting upside down on the couch now, feet up against the wall tapestry and cotton candy hair splayed out on the floor. He stared blankly as his friend came into view—arms crossed, frowning at him from the end of the hall—and opened his mouth once more, letting out another garbled grunt that had one of the neighbors pounding twice on the wall to shut his dramatic ass up.

“Dude seriously, are you gonna tell me who pissed in your cereal or are you just gonna scream until the guys next door kick a hole through our wall?”

They almost felt bad as he looked away, sniffing and letting himself slump farther off the sofa until he was sprawled completely on the hardwood and staring, glassy eyed, up at the ceiling.

When he finally spoke a full sentence, his gaze was locked on the water stain above him from a year ago when the upstairs neighbors flooded their apartment trying to make jungle juice in the bathtub.

“I don’t know, I’m just in my feels as the kids say,” he sounded so dejected—strange for someone who was perpetually energized to a frustrating degree—that their shoulders immediately slumped from a hardass square to a softer, more sympathetic angle

They padded over to join him on the floor.

“Care to elaborate, oh roomie of mine?”

There was a pause and Spinner tapped his nails against the hardwood idly before responding.

“I guess I’m just feeling, like, fucking I don’t know,” he sighed, knocking his head against the dusty boards, “left out I guess? That’s not quite right, but it’s just Magne mentioned last time she came to The League meeting that Jin was seeing somebody and it just got me all introspective and weird…”

“Hm,” his roommate hummed thoughtfully and studied the way the textured white ceiling gave way to the rings of brown water damage, like a dead and dying flower, “I thought you and Jin weren’t ever that serious?”

“We weren’t,” Spinner groaned again and rubbed his eyes. “We went on like, one date a year ago and I haven’t thought about it really at all since then. I’m not sure why hearing he’s got someone else now made me so fucking...jealous I guess.”

“I mean, maybe you just never really gave yourself the time to process it?” they asked and received only an annoyed huff and accompanying groan. “Sorry, should have asked if you were looking for advice or just wanting to rant. My bad.”

“No, it’s fine. I think it’s just…”

Spinner trailed off and they shifted as the hard floor bit at their back and made it ache. The muscles were sore already as it was, and Tomura blowing their fucking back a few times a week wasn’t really helping. They’d created some kind of perpetually horny monster, but something told them cracking a joke about it wasn’t really going to help the situation much. Thankfully, Spinner found his way to filling the silence a minute later.

“I don’t think it has anything specifically to do with Jin. Yeah I liked him, we’re still really good friends and I don’t feel like I need him to be more than that. It’s just that—and this is gonna make me sound like a massive asshole—but with you and your new fucking boyfie and now even Jin finding someone to date I just keep seeing reminders everywhere of how motherfucking isolated I am.”

“Oh,” they felt their face burn a bit, guilt frothing as they were forced to acknowledge the fact that in all the time they’ve spent holed up with Tomura, Spinner had been discarded like an old Steam game, bought impulsively on sale and never played again. “I’m sorry I haven’t been prioritizing you—”

“No, no, no shut the fuck with that,” he waved his hand to cut them off and pushed himself up on his palms. “I know I’m not being fair about it, and I really am happy for you guys, but idk man….I just feel like I’m never gonna find that you know?”

Beside him, his roommate remained sprawled out on the floor like a homicide tape outline and was just as deadly quiet.

“I just,” he continued, running an angry hand through his hair, “I know I could be such a good partner. Like I’m funny and I’m not a fucking creep, which is actually a plus to most people.”

He shot a side glance down and they rolled their eyes, sitting up and knocking his shoulder roughly till he toppled back to the dirty floor and they stood above him.

“Fuck off,” they chuckled.

His roommate watched as the laughter seemed to infect him like a bad cold, creeping down the back of his throat and shaking in his chest.

“No I’m serious, I would be such a fucking great boyfriend. I give goddamn top quality cuddles and I actually know how to do laundry, what more does one need truly?”

“Damn bro, you’ve known how to fold your own clothes this whole time?”

The giggling spread into the quiet space, rocking through both their shoulders and leaving the air feeling light—fresh like the first nights of Spring. When it finally petered out into friendly silence, they were both far lighter.

“I just like the way you fold my t-shirts, the sleeves don’t get those weird creases when you do it,” he muttered and stood, doing his best to fix the wild pink locks that stood on end from his fidgeting.

“Yeah I’m sure,” his roommate rolled their eyes and turned back down the hall.

When they left for the night to stay over with their boyfriend, Spinner tried not to acknowledge the way he subconsciously glared at their back as they walked out the door, skipping yet another League meeting to swap spit with that guy from their English class.

He tried even harder not to think of how their bed would be warm and their legs would have legs to tangle with, their chest have a chest to lay against, while he heated up instant noodles in the microwave and fell asleep alone on their living room couch.

Not to mention that tonight was the big tournament with that new group on campus. He was really banking on his bff (best fucking friend as they were always sure to clarify) and him teaming up to crush those assholes from The Commission or whatever they called themselves.

Fucking lame as shit name in his opinion.

In any case, he’d have to settle for Magne again, and she was such a loose cannon they were sure to get their asses handed to them. She was a great fucking tank, he’d be the first to admit, but strategy was not a strong point of hers and they desperately needed that tonight.

He could feel the sinking weight of failure rolling in the pit of his stomach already even as he dragged himself into his room to tug on an old pair of jeans.

It bothered him way more than it should, the idea of losing some gaming tournament that, by all means held little to no actual significance.

Spinner knew the stock he’d started placing in games was growing to an unhealthy degree.

He knew that.

But self awareness rarely did anything to alleviate the irrational fear of failing at one of the only remaining consistencies in his life.

It stung worse when the tournament kicked off and by the third round, Spinner was the only remaining League member in the brackets.

“Fucking shit…” he muttered to himself, the small basement room alight with the blue glow of the monitor and the sound of frantically smashing controllers.

Behind him on the couch—stolen long ago from the theater building—Magne held him by the shoulders as he grit his teeth and leaned into the movement of his avatar on screen.

“You got this babe,” she shouted, cheek pressed up to his ear. “Make ‘em eat shit for me!”

“I would if you stopped distracting me,” Spinner hissed back.

Really it wasn’t Magne’s aggressive and somewhat bloodthirsty style of encouragement that shook his focus so badly.

It was his opponent.

The fucking president of The Commission sat, thighs spread and pressed to his, resting your weight on your elbows and snarling beside him in the couch.

Your face was split in this heart stopping grin as you quite deftly dodged all his attempts to get a hit in and managed to land a few of your own in the process.

And you looked really hot doing it.

Which was definitely just a side effect of the punch he (didn’t) drink and the body heat fueled temperature of the room—sweaty skin against sweaty skin making his mind wander against his will.

The shifting in his seat was absolutely just to illogically make him move faster and had nothing to do with how tight his pants now seemed.

So much for not being a fucking creep.

Your teammates were gathered in a circle behind you, enraptured and exuding the kind of smug confidence that said quite clearly The League was fucked from the second they walked in.

Not even two minutes later your hands were thrown up, punching the air and your team piling over the back of the couch to drown you in a sea of celebratory limbs.

Spinner felt himself deflating even as he was toppled off the couch by your screaming members and The League collectively cursed in the background.

Truthfully he’d known the chances of winning were slim.

Ever since his roommate started getting busy with classes and clubs that ‘looked good on their resume,’ The League had gone downhill rapidly. It was a problem since long before that Shigaraki guy swooped in and stole them away, but Spinner couldn’t stop himself from lowkey holding that against him.

The League had consumed so much of his life in college, functioning as a haven where he was finally respected and belonged to an extent he’d never experienced before.

The stink of failure and loss, not of the game but the only space he’d ever really occupied without complaint, burned his face and made the room feel more suffocating than usual.

Magne looked as though she wanted to give him one of her signature—and admittedly very comforting—hugs, but the deadly look of disappointment on Spinner’s face must have made her think twice.

The rest of his team seemed to read this sudden downward shift in the room as they began to filter out, climbing the steps onto street level and away from the suddenly stuffy, uncomfortable meeting spot. Normally everyone would stay and finish off the drinks snuck past the janitorial staff, eating Doritos until well past midnight. This time they couldn’t wait to be rid of him.

He couldn’t really blame them.

The multimedia building was a strange place after hours. Once Spinner might have called it something rare and liminal, now it felt more like a prison.

He stood, packing up the consoles a bit more roughly than necessary when someone cleared their throat behind him.

He turned to see you, standing alone with hands on your hips and scowling like you were the one who just got their gaming reputation ruined.

“Dude what the fuck was that?”

Spinner bristled at the knife sharp point of your tone.

“Really?” he asked incredulously. “You seriously waited around to rub your win in my face?”

You rolled your eyes and took a step closer around the couch. “I’m not talking about the fucking game dumbass. Why the hell are you pouting like I stole your fucking candy or some shit? You ruined the vibes man.”

“If anyone was ruining the vibes, it was you and your cocky ass team.”

Spinner felt himself stepping closer too, pulled in by the celestial weight that accompanied any kindling argument.

“Me?” you pointed to your chest and scoffed, “Wow, I was really hoping you’d actually possess a bit of emotional maturity, but if this is how you get after a loss I’m not shocked your fucking club is bleeding members.”

At some point the two of you had gravitated close enough that he felt the puff of your last breath on his cheeks. Two comets, ready and willing to collide.

“I’m not being the asshole in this situation, you know that right?” Spinner glared down his nose at you, heart pounding in his ears. “Maybe you shouldn’t make fucking unfounded assumptions about people you don’t know.”

“So then why are your panties in a twist over a fucking game?” you retorted.

He was peripherally aware that your eyes had taken on the same laser focused quality as they had during the last round. Determined and locked onto him without sparing a glance to anything else.

It was this same undivided attention that he’d envied in you as you played, and as Spinner felt it trained on him, his pants once again felt uncomfortably restrictive.

“It’s not about the fucking game okay!?” his voice came out hoarse and far more petulant than he’s been aiming for.

Though he quickly felt the embarrassment give rise to a secondary heat as you both breathed each other’s air and searched the face across from you.

“Then what is it about?”

That strange, unexplainable, inexplicable rush of potential filled the small gap that remained between your bodies—the kind of tension Spinner was beginning to think he’d never feel again.

He’d kissed plenty of people. Almost more than he’d like to admit, or that they’d like to admit more accurately.

But when his flickering eyes found your hard stare still and unwavering from his, it felt incredibly natural to lean in and press his lips against your fading frown.

It was slow going, the few centimeters that separated you seemed like miles as he moved slowly, never breaking eye contact until his mouth was finally slotted over yours and you weren’t pushing him away.

There was still a bit of lingering confusion, as this was decidedly not what either of you appeared to be expecting from the prior conversation. That coupled with the fact that Spinner wasn’t entirely sure he remembered your first name made the feeling of your tongue prodding at the seam of his lips all the more startling.

When he gasped, you slid your hands up his chest and licked into his mouth. Tongue tangling between breaths, Spinner felt himself getting lost in the familiar and coveted taste of another mouth, another body, another hand that grasped, that desired, that wanted him.

***

Your knees dug into the cushions on either side of Spinner’s thighs as you bounced in his lap. He fought to keep his eyes open against the pleasure of his cock sinking into you over and over again, so he could watch the way your head was thrown back and your chest heaved with the exertion.

He dug his hands into your hips and let his head hit the back of the couch, feet planted on the floor to help his hips thrust up into you, earning him some of the prettiest, stifled moans he’d ever heard.

Truthfully, he had not expected to fuck you. He figured you might be down to just make out for a bit until the cleaning staff came and booted you from the building, but both your pants had quite quickly and naturally found their way to the floor.

Neither of you spoke much, which he was thankful for. That would have been far too complicated of a conversation, especially considering you really didn’t know each other all that well.

Spinner usually liked to do a bit of ‘getting to know you’ type activities before he hooked up with people, which he did with surprising frequency for somebody so starved for a long term thing. Sex just fucking felt good and it was this eagerness that was his downfall. Most people he’d fucked around with seemed to read the urge to get into their pants as a diminished interest or emotional attraction and Spinner ended up with more friends with benefits than actual friends...or benefits.

Regardless, it was fine by him that the only form of communication passing between you for now were scattered groans of pleasure and the wet slap of your ass against his thighs.

He’d nearly forgotten how fucking amazing pussy felt.

For no particular reason, Spinner had always found himself fooling around with bodies more similar to his own. Not that he had any real preference, though the lack of experience often made him a bit nervous in the whole ‘pleasing your partner’ department, despite many helpful lessons from his roommate.

That was all to say that Spinner was incredibly thankful you reached down to guide his hand that had clumsily begun rubbing circles on your clit. That is until you simply knocked it away and went back to riding his dick like a fucking champ.

Then he did speak.

“Wanna make you cum,” he mumbled and really did sound like he was pouting this time.

You peered down at him, slowing your pace so you sat flush in his lap, grinding his cock deep against your walls. Spinner keened as you clenched around him, pussy so deliciously warm he felt himself near to drowning in the feel of you.

“Mm fuck,” you panted, leaning in to steal a few more messy kisses from him before lifting up and enveloping him in the slick heat all over again. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No,” he nipped at the column or your throat, careful not to leave any lasting marks just in case. “If I’m finishing, you’re fucking finishing.”

You pulled back and stared at him for a moment. He felt you purposefully tightening around him just so he would squirm under your curious gaze. After a moment you smirked and rolled your eyes again, taking his hand and guiding his fingers back to that little nub just above where his thick length was seated inside you.

Spinner was proud of his dick, it was hefty but not so long that it was a hassle to fit—just enough to reach all the important bits. He was sensitive as hell too most of the time, so just about any pressure felt amazing. But the best part of it was watching whoever he was fucking fall apart on his goddamn perfect cock.

So when you whispered, “Like this,” and showed him the rhythm and motion you liked, he pulled himself back from the brink to pay attention, speeding up until that look of cooled control slid right off your face.

“Ahh, yes fuck...” the words tumbled from you freely now. “Shit, yeah just like that—”

Spinner could get fucking drunk off the low groan that left you as he planted his feet more firmly and bucked his hips up. He must have hit something good by the way you choked and moaned boarding on too loud, though he had neither the heart nor self control to stop you.

“Feel good?” he grunted, picking up the pace and force he thrust into you, so that you had to loop your arms around his neck and hold tightly as he speared you on his cock.

“Fuck...yes..” you whimpered into his shoulder which did wonders for his ego.

Spinner kept up his rubbing frantic patterns on your clit and feeling the gradual constriction of your walls around him—the coil growing tight and ready to snap. He nudged your cheek with his until you pulled back a bit to face him.

“I want to see you,” he murmured, sucking your tongue into his mouth for a moment and tearing himself away so he could watch as you came undone around him.

You gave him a strange, soft look and pressed your forehead to his, eyes zoned in on only him.

The rest of the room, the whole fucking basement and campus melted away under that stare.

Your nipples peaked through your shirt, brushing against his as you were jostled into him by the movement of your hips. As you reached your peak, words devolved into increasingly breathy gasps. It took Spinner an incredible amount of concentration not to fucking paint your insides then and there.

Your pussy was so goddamn tight and warm and milking him just right, it was a fucking impressive feat to remain staunchly at the edge of his peak as your mouth fell open and your fingernails scratched at his back when you finally came—the telltale spasms around his cock and the near sobs coming from you more than enough indication.

He lost himself well and truly then.

Lost in the false sense of intimacy that came with being allowed to see you fall apart, this person he barely knew yet made him feel immensely important in that moment. Your breath and spit was in his mouth, the smell and feel of you soaking his length pushed him beyond the realm of conscious thought.

There was only a deep and burning need to be closer to you. So, so much closer.

His hands moved of their own accord, hooking under your thighs and flipping your bodies so your back hit the cushions and he hovered above you. The angle allowed him to slide deeper, pulling out and thrusting his hips in fast, hard strokes that hurtled him towards release.

Spinner couldn’t keep himself quite now either, panting and moaning and gasping unashamedly with his eyes screwed shut as you took his cock so unbelievably well.

It wasn’t until your hands, softer than he’d imagined, cupped his jaw and pulled him down to meet you that he was brought back down from whatever higher plane of existence his impending orgasm whisked him too.

Your lips weren’t nearly as frantic as the rocking of his thighs, the slap of his balls against your ass. The sweetness was an odd but welcome contrast.

“I’m gonna—fucking mm...” he tried so hard to get his tongue to form the words but he could feel himself slipping further as you started clamping around his length again.

“I know,” you breathed against his lips, faces pressed together and unmoving eyes steady on his own. “Ahh, inside if you want.”

He did want.

Oh fuck did he want nothing more in that moment to stay sunk in your warmth and pump you so full, but the last few remaining logical braincells reminded him that was not a great idea. Not without a more in-depth conversation neither of you was in a state to have.

“Shouldn’t...” he groaned and moved to pull out but your ankles locked around his ass and forced him back down.

“It’s okay,” you huffed and rocked into him, squeezing around the sensitive head of his dick just once, just right and that did him in.

It was something in the way you looked at him, so that he could feel nothing but secure—nothing but safe wrapped up in you. Something about the way you pressed him closer, in the movement of your thumb on his cheek.

It scratched some deep seated, lonely itch in Spinner.

Made it feel like this meant a hell of a lot more than it probably did.

In seconds he was blowing his fucking load right into you, milking himself in your heat until he was spent and overstimulated. You were kind enough to pull him to you, turning your bodies so you laid side by side on the coach, his softening cock slipping from you in a gush of release.

For a minute or so, neither of you spoke, just stared, long and comfortable at the stranger you’d just fucked on the gaming club couch.

Well.

Fucked wasn’t really the word he’d use at that point to describe what you’d just done, but anything more than that felt presumptuous.

You broke the silence as he nuzzled into your palm.

“You really needed that didn’t you?”

Spinner couldn’t help the familiar, infectious laugh that rattled in his chest. He liked the smile it earned him, far more genuine than any others you’d worn that night.

“Uh, yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

You hummed, nodding in response. “Mm, me too.”

And somehow, for no real logical reason, Spinner knew you understood. That you felt the same isolation, the same starvation for love, for holding weight in someone else’s world.

That the games were just a placeholder, a way to fill the space, to get lost in other lives, in other stories where he did matter. Where his actions had foreseeable and measurable worth. That’s why it hurt to lose. Not for the glory, but for the destruction of the only remaining diversion from how empty his reality felt.

Even if it wasn’t really.

Even if there were friends and benefits and friends who offered both. His roommate could let him rest his head in their lap on movie nights or sleep in his bed on occasion when the heat went out and he got cold too quickly. But none of that quite filled the hole like you now, holding his face and knowing the struggle without him having to explain it.

Nothing like you pulling him in and kissing him too familiarly for someone he’d only known a day.

Magne used to say something about shit like this. Something like how people bond in train cars when there’s a rat eating a slice of pizza and you all watch it happen. Some weird camaraderie forged in the shared experience of life being a little fucking freaky a lot of the time.

That was how it felt when you slipped your leg between his and brushed your lips together again. Content to lay, half naked in the media building basement, making out with some guy you beat at Smash and fucked right after.

Reveling in the brief but meaningful feeling of mattering in some small, strange way to someone else.

Of holding weight.

Of being held.

[sometimesiwritebadly]

Paintbrush (Spencer Reid x Artist!Reader)

Summary: You’re an artist in DC, and a serial killer has started using your artwork as inspiration for his murders.

Warnings: Mentions murder (duh) but doesn’t go into detail

Notes: This is way longer than I planned lol. I based the chaotic-artist vibe that the reader has going on the tiktoker @/artistkatiesmall so y’all can watch her tik toks if you like chaotic energy and paint as much as i do. Oh also I tried to keep this gender-neutral but if there are any pronouns in here that shouldn’t be let me know and I’ll fix it!! I use she/her so sometimes it just comes naturally and i don’t notice. 

Word Count: 2.3k

Masterlist

You were in your studio, listening to music as loud as physically possible. Your art studio is like a safe haven; the only place you feel completely yourself. Right now you’re working on your latest piece. Your art style is very “splattered paint that ends up looking like something”, which your mother had told you on multiple occasions. She had meant it as an insult, but you ended up taking the term and making it your own. She’s not wrong; you typically start your pieces by throwing some paint on a canvas and letting it take you somewhere. So here you are, slapping paint on a canvas and screaming the lyrics to your favorite song.

As the painting began to take form - you hadn’t decided what it would be yet, but you’re excited with what you have - you heard some pounding that didn’t match the beat of the song. Grabbing your phone, you turned down the music, and the pounding could be heard much more clearly now. “Y/N Y/L/N! FBI!” You quickly paused the music and rushed to the door. As you opened the door, your paintbrush (still covered in paint...oops) was tucked behind your ear. At your entrance was two men, one tall and skinny, and the other older with graying hair. “Y/N?” The younger of the two asked, his voice considerably softer than when he’d yelled through your door. You only nodded, and each of the men showed you their badges before the older of the two spoke.

“I’m SSA Rossi, and this is Dr. Reid, we’re with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. Can we come in? We need to ask you a few questions.”

“Uh, yeah, of course.” You opened the door wider now, allowing them both to step inside your small studio. “Um, sorry about the mess, I’m not exactly the most conventional artist.” You apologized. You would've offered them a seat, but you only had two chairs in the place, and they were both occupied by piles of your various art supplies. “What is this about?”

Dr. Reid held a file in his hands, which he passed over to you as he spoke. “Do you recognize any of these paintings?” You open the file to find 4 pictures of your own artwork; portraits of various different people. One short blonde woman, one ginger man with an impressive beard, and a hispanic woman with a pixie cut. 

“Yeah, I painted these a while back...Why does the FBI care about some random commission artwork?”

“Someone commissioned you to do these?” Dr. Reid spoke quickly, causing you to look away from the pictures and back towards him. “Uh, yeah. He calls me every once in a while and asks for weirdly specific portraits.”

“What do you mean, weirdly specific? You don’t base your work off of pictures?” SSA Rossi asked you.

“No, he’s never given me pictures to work from. He just describes the person he wants me to paint. Like about two weeks ago,” You paused as you walked over to your cluttered desk, and grabbed your notepad, which was still open to the page you’d jotted down your notes on, “He asked for a portrait of a short, Asian man with bleach blonde hair, dark eyes, and one pierced ear.” You handed the notepad to Dr. Reid, who scanned it quickly. 

“What’s his name?” He asked, before handing the notepad to his partner.

“Tanner. I don’t know his last name, he always pays with cash. What’d he do?”

The two men looked at each other briefly, before Dr. Reid spoke again, “We believe Tanner has been killing the people that you paint. He left the paintings at the crime scene.”

Your heart dropped. Not only had you been in constant contact with this psychopath, but you felt like you’d inadvertently helped him. You took his money, and he killed the people who looked like your paintings. 

“I know this is shocking, but have you painted anyone else for him?”

“Uh, no, this was the most rece-” You cut yourself off, remembering something from the last time you’d spoken with Tanner. “He bought a painting of me.”

“When?” Dr. Reid asked.

“When, uh, when he picked up the last painting. I had a self-portrait sitting over there that I'd done for fun. He asked if he could have it along with the other one, he paid me extra for it-”

“What day, Y/N?” Dr. Reid placed a hand on your shoulder, trying to comfort you. You felt like you might pass out.

“3 days ago.”

Again, the two agents looked at each other, and their faces didn’t make you feel any better.

“Y/N, why don’t you come with us to the police station, you’ll be safe there.” You could only nod in response letting them lead you out of the studio. Before you exited, Dr. Reid grabbed the paintbrush from behind your ear, placing it on a table before you made your way out to the car.

~~~

Sitting in the police station was like torture. First of all, you were wearing your normal painting outfit: a paint-stained t-shirt an ex had left at your place, jeans that were so ripped up you could barely call them jeans anymore, and of course, socks and sandals. The cops were either completely ignoring your presence, or asking you the same questions you’d already answered dozens of times. One top of all that, they wouldn’t let you do anything besides sit and wait. You had managed to find a paper pad and a pen, so at least your doodling could help pass the time.

You’d been at the station for over an hour already, which meant your doodle was nearly perfect; you ended up drawing one of the agents, Dr. Reid. From where you were sitting, he was in clear sight, and one of the only people who was actually sitting still enough for you to draw. And, y’know, he’s the only person you want to look at long enough for you to draw. 

“Is that me?” His voice startled you; you’d been looking down at the paper and didn’t notice Dr. Reid coming towards you. You dropped the pen immediately, and moved the paper out of his sight.

“I’m sorry Doctor, I was just, y’know, bored and-” You tried to put together a sentence, but your embarrassment was getting the best of you.

“I don’t mind, I, um, think it’s kind of flattering. Can I see it?” Dr. Reid asked, and you reluctantly handed the paper over. You’d been an artist for so long, you were almost never nervous for people to see your work anymore; you have a very “if they like it, great! If they don’t, I don’t care,” kind of attitude when it comes to your artwork. But Dr. Reid was making you nervous. “You don’t have to call me Doctor by the way. Reid is fine. Or, uh, Spencer. You can call me Spencer.” He had a light blush on his face as he spoke, which calmed you a little bit. At least he’s just as nervous as you. Suddenly, as if he was snapped out of his train of thought, Spencer handed the paper back to you and cleared his throat before speaking. “We used the phone number you gave us to find Tanner, but he doesn’t have any listed addresses. Did you ever deliver paintings to him?” Behind him, another one of the agents who’d talked to you, Hotch, walked up.

“Um, no. I’d just call him whenever I finished a painting and he’d come to me.”

“Would you be willing to call him again?” Hotch asked. Your eyes widened at the idea. You’re already terrified at the notion that you may be a target for a serial killer, but calling him? Hotch must have noticed your fear, as he began to explain further, “We can track his location with a phone call, but we need some time to do it. If you’re the one speaking, he’ll probably stay on the line long enough for our technical analyst to find him.” 

You took a deep breath, before nodding slowly. “Y-yeah. I can do that. Can you guys give me a minute first? I need some air.” You didn’t wait for an answer before walking out of the police station. Once you got outside, walked to the end of the building and leaned against the side wall. You closed your eyes, breathing deeply. You couldn’t shake the feeling of responsibility over those people’s deaths. Tanner had taken your artwork, your passion, and ruined it.

“Are you ok?” You looked up to find Spencer standing in front of you, hands in his pockets.

“Not really.” You played with your hands as you spoke, not making eye contact.

“You feel guilty, don’t you?” He asked, as he moved to lean against the wall next to you. 

“Shouldn’t you be inside? Y’know, you’ve got a serial killer to catch.”

“You know there are a lot of signs that someone feels guilty. Avoiding eye contact, changing the subject, lack of an appetite...I noticed you didn’t eat the snacks JJ got for you.” He was right, Agent Jareau had gotten you some snacks that you left untouched back in the station. When you didn’t say anything, Spencer continued, “Usually when I see people acting like this, they have good reason to be guilty. You haven’t done anything wrong, Y/N.”

“I inspired him.” When you looked up at Spencer, he gave you a confused look. “When I saw him last, when he wanted to buy that painting of me, I asked him why. He said that my artwork inspires him. If...If I hadn’t painted those people, they could still be alive.”

“You don’t know that.”

“But there’s a possibility, isn’t there? You can’t say for sure that he would’ve killed them anyways, can you?”

Spencer was silent for a moment, confirming your fears. Eventually, he spoke up. “He may not have killed those exact people, He would’ve killed someone. He’s already killed before.” Your eyebrows shot up at this, so Spencer kept talking, “We think we can connect him to two murders from a few years ago. If he had never used your art as part of his signature, it would’ve taken us a lot longer to find him. He may have even gotten away with it all together.” Spencer’s words did give you a little relief. You still felt bad for the way your art had been used, but it was a good reminder that you weren’t the murderer. That Tanner’s actions had nothing to do with yours.

“Thank you.” Spencer nodded in response, giving you a small smile. “I guess I have a phone call to make.”

~~~ a week later ~~~

You were back in your studio, getting ready for a new painting. Just as you placed your canvas on the easel, there was a knock on the door. When you opened it, you were surprised to find Spencer Reid on the other side. “Spencer?”

“Hi.” There was an awkward moment of silence before Spencer spoke again. “I, uh, saw your mural. It’s beautiful.” A small smile formed on your face at the mention of the mural. After you helped the BAU catch Tanner, you reached out to the family of the victims. With their permission, you painted a mural that was put up at the memorial down the road. The mural had been featured on local DC news channels, which is probably how Spencer had seen it.

“Thank you. I probably wouldn’t have done it if it wasn’t for you.” As you spoke, you moved over so that Spencer could enter the studio space. “Back at the police station, I wanted to quit art. Figured I’d finally put that communications degree to use or something.” Spencer lightly laughed as you continued, “But you made me realize that I can still do something good with my art.”

“I’m glad.” Spencer paused, and took a deep breath, and a step towards you, “Do you, uh, think we could go get coffee sometime? I mean, it doesn’t have to be coffee, we could get tea, or um, lemonade, we could get lemon-”

“Spencer!” You cut him off, with a light laugh. You found his nerves to be both flattering and cute. “I’d love to get any beverage you’d like, as long as you’re there with me.” You ran your hands through your pockets, looking for the sharpie you’d had in your hand before you’d opened the door. “Where is…” you mumbled, looking down at your pockets. Suddenly, you felt Spencer’s hand at your ear, where he pulled down the sharpie you’d placed there.

“Looking for this?” He was now standing close enough to you that he only had to whisper. 

“Yeah” You responded, at the same volume he’d used. You took the sharpie from his hand, but before he could pull it away, you grabbed it and wrote down your phone number. When you finished, you looked up to Spencer’s face, which had turned pink. “Call me whenever.”

Neither you or Spencer said a word, you just stood there, staring at each other. You couldn’t help but try to memorize every feature of his face. Your staring contest was interrupted by Spencer’s phone dinging. He took a step back, much to your disappointment, and looked down at the text. “I, uh, I have to get to work. We have a new case.” You could tell he was disappointed too.

“Ok.” You whispered. Spencer looked at you for one more moment before he did what you least expected; before you even realized what was happening, his hand was wrapped around your waist and his lips were on yours. Your hands found their way to his collar, pulling him even closer to you.

You two didn’t pull apart until Spencer’s phone went off again. “You better call me.” You said, finally letting go of him.

“I will, promise.” Was the last thing he said to you before rushing off to work. When the door closed behind him, you turned to your blank canvas with a clear idea in mind. So you turned up the music, grabbed your paints, and began to put every detail of Spencer you could remember onto the canvas.

~~~

Notes: i’ll be honest idk how i feel about this ending lmao but i hope y’all liked it

Tags: @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @la-vie-en-amour1 @peculiarinsomniac

[completeotometrash]

Secret Love (Jumin Han Fluff)

(WARNING): Spoilers for Seven’s route, implied nsfw. Read at your own risk.

Part 1

Word count: 2.4k

(She/her) pronouns.

.................

For years he has hopelessly longed for her. There was never a second that he thought she was anything other than ethereal beauty. Like a graceful and refined goddess, she blesses his vision. Though Jumin Han is not one to express his feelings or be interested in art for that matter, somehow, she makes seeing both so much clearer.

 He can recall the day she entered the RFA chat room, the way she presented herself. He is still amazed with how daring and bold she was. Everyone loves her for it. At the party, she wore a beautiful red dress that flattered her every curve and did wonders for his wandering mind. But it was not her body that truly earned his attention, rather, her charisma; the way she adapted and took advantage of every opportunity. They got along surprisingly well and even scheduled dinners to enjoy together so they could keep in touch. But she was never too close. He knows he is a busy man; he has no time to indulge in romantic affairs. Even with that aside, from his knowledge she does not share the same feelings.

 So, they stayed strictly platonic.

  Another year passed; another party was thrown. That time she truly outdid herself. Over a thousand guests were brought in, triple the usual. She slaved away to ensure that it was a great success; and that it was. She did not appear to be overworked, the smile on her face that traveled up to her eyes was magnificent. He found that to be a beautiful quality, the ability to stay positive. His heart hammered in his chest harder than it ever had. That night he found himself unable to sleep. He tossed and turned for hours but the exhaustion never came.

 Finally, there is now. He has watched her grow more successful and gain the respect of everyone around her in less than three years. Her parties have raised millions of dollars that has all been donated to charity.

 They talk every day in the chat rooms, but it never satisfies the urge to speak to her. To hear her voice. As he normally would not act upon this, his fingers are already dialing her number. She picks up only seconds later.

 ~~~

With poise, she brings the glass of wine to her lips, one he specially ordered from a famous brewer located in Europe. After a small sip, she licks her bottom lip. He watches her reaction that seems to be a pleased one with the grin that follows.

 “It’s exquisite, Jumin. Some of the best that I’ve ever tasted!” She chuckles giddily, setting the glass down. He tries a sip of his own and agrees.

 “I’m glad you enjoy it. Would you like the winemaker’s contact information?” He takes another sip before adjusting his collar. She nods, trailing on about how she should invite him to the party as a guest. Her enthusiasm does terrible things to his body. Jumin finds himself heating up and wanting to take off his jacket.

 He doesn’t, of course. He has self-control.

 “So why is it that you would rather meet here at my estate than go out?” As he enjoyed her company and greatly prefer staying home himself, he could not help but ask. She has only visited his home once before, a brief exchange to deliver something.

 She fixes her posture, crossing her right leg over the other. “Honestly, I just wanted to enjoy you and our time together without anyone being around. As much as I love going out with you, I prefer just relaxing together on a less formal level.” She glances around only to look down at her hands, “Also, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious about what your apartment looks like.” She nervously laughs, rubbing her hands together.

 He swallows, his throat becoming tighter. Such honesty in her statement making him feel a little bashful. Taking a deep breath, he stands. “If you’re interested in my decor, I can show you around.” In a way, he takes pride in the way he keeps his house tidy. He has a modern dark theme with all the newest gadgets on the market. She happily obliges, standing beside him.

 ~~~

“The view is breathtaking.” She stares out the window with astonishment, finishing her glass of wine. He agrees, but only watches her.

 “Yes. The city is quite beautiful in the afternoon while the lights are lit. I made sure of that while searching for my apartment. I’ve found that Elizabeth the Third enjoys the view as well.”

 She cackles, shaking her head. “You know, you’ve got her spoiled. It’s actually really cute, just how much you care for her.” Turning to face him, her head tilts to the side. “You’re a good host. We should do this more often.”

 Revealing a small smile of his own, he looks down at her. “I appreciate your words and agree that we should do this more often. I find myself enjoying your presence in a less formal environment nice as well.” A small moment of vulnerability.

 She gasps, excitedly clapping her hands. “One day, maybe we can do some wine tasting while watching a movie!”

 Jumin takes her empty glass and refills it and his own. “I don’t see why we can’t do that now unless you have plans for tomorrow. It’s getting rather late.” He checks the time on his watch. “If not, I’ll have a ride set up to safely escort you home.”

 “I don’t mind staying. “

 Despite having the movie ready and being situated on the couch nearly an hour ago, it was never started. Sitting side by side, he talks with her instead.

 “I’ve always wanted to visit Rome and see the Sistine Chapel! The art there is so beautiful.” She leans back, seemingly more relaxed after two glasses of wine. He too feels the effects of the alcohol.

 “That is one place I have not been yet. As I’ve never been one to care for art, I’m sure your company there would be nice.” Jumin freezes, realizing the gravity of his statement as her eyes grow wider. There’s the crippling fear of her suddenly being repulsed by him. Mentally, he scolds himself for possibly making her uncomfortable. “I apologize if that was too-”

 His sentence is stopped yet again, but this time she is the one to do it. “In the future I’d love to go with you. What is the fun in traveling alone, anyways?” She smiles, rubbing her head. “Shall we start the movie now?”

 He inhales sharply, lifting the remote and pressing play.

 ~~~

When the credits roll, he shifts, ready to go to bed. Seemingly, she’s already passed the point of exhaustion, eyes closed and chest heaving slowly. Jumin wonders how long she has been asleep and whether he should wake her. He yawns, standing up. It’s dark and it would be dangerous to send her home at this time. That is what he tells himself, at least.

 That night he brought her to his guest room, now being unable to forget about it. She went home early the next morning and insisted that she leave immediately. The next day he was given a gift from her, an apology for her accidentally falling asleep. If she gave it to him in person, he would have returned it, she need not apologize for something a friend should do. Although, he cannot help but feel flattered by it. She gave him a navy-blue tie from one of his favorite brands. The material is soft against his fingers; he incorporates it in his outfit for the party.

 The day of the party comes quickly, it is at a different location his time because it’s become much vaster. The area is loud, everyone talks cheerfully with each other. Business owners negotiate and bond over shared interests. The same brewer he told her about that was invited to the party was so flattered that he gifted several bottles of his product for it. He notices it being served at the bar.

 Jumin continues to scan the room, firstly wanting to congratulate MC. He walks around until he feels a tap to his shoulder. It’s a very excited Saeyoung.

 “Jumin! We’ve been looking for you.” Seven steps back, motioning for Jumin to follow. He rounds the corner and immediately notices a familiar tuff of teal hair. He joins the circle, adjusting his sleeve.

 “Good afternoon, everyone. The party seems to be a success.” He pops into the conversation in his own giddy way. His excitement doesn’t show, it almost never does.

 “Jumin, greetings! We’re glad you could make it.” V smiles wholeheartedly, nodding his head in his companion’s direction.

 Yoosung smiles as well, chiming up when he sees him. “The party just gets better every year with MC! She’s just amazing at what she does.” His eyes glimmer with adoration. 

  Zen crosses his arms, looking around. “Of course, she works her ass off every year, and it pays off. I worry about if she doesn’t take time to relax.” It’s no surprise that Zen worries for her well-being, the multiple lectures in the chat rooms prove just that. 

 “I’m sure she takes time for breaks; she also knows that we’re here to help with the guests of needed be.” Jahee pushes up her glasses, “Good afternoon, Mr. Han.”

 Jumin straightens his posture, “Where is MC at?” His mind returns to its original concern, craving to see her again after their last meeting. 

 Jihyun places a hand on his shoulder playfully. “She left a few minutes ago to give her speech on the stage, she should be there any moment now- “

 Ironically, at that moment, the sound of the mic booms through the speakers, silencing the room.

 Jumin is left speechless when he spots her. She wears an elegant dress that reaches just below her knees. It has a V-cut front with golden embroidery; being tight around her hips. She screams utter elegance, and he cannot look away.

 Awkwardly, she readies the mic, smiling at everyone in the room. A part of him wishes he were the only one to see it. She looks around, taking a deep breath. “Thank you to everyone who could be here and join us this evening; your presence today means a lot.”

 Her eyes catch his own, everything feels like it’s in slow motion now. All but his heart that has seemingly quickened its pace. He wants to pull her to the side, to hold her close to his chest so she can physically feel exactly what she does to him. She touches her neck, smiling a little wider. That same smile that absolutely captivates him. Even as she looks away, he cannot stop his own lingering stare. She looks so ridiculously happy, so pure- beautiful. 

 Jumin only realizes he was holding his breath when everyone begins applauding her speech around him. He joins, swallowing gently to bring himself back to reality. To his right is an open balcony, one that he quickly moves to catch some fresh air.

 It’s brisk outside, but it helps his body cool down faster than it would in the crowded room. He knows the best thing to do is wait and speak to her with a clear mind, urges aside. Taking a deep breath, he holds it until his lungs burn. Feeling almost ashamed of himself, disgusted with how greedy he feels tonight. He moves out of the view of the party, standing alone and gazing upon the city lights. 

 “Hey stranger.” There is a shuffling noise as the presence of another accompanies him. Jumin glances to his side, MC is looking him up and down. “It’s unlike you to leave a room like that, are you alright?”

 He is fine, in the physical sense, so he nods his head in retaliation. “Yes, I found myself getting hot and needed the fresh air. I’d like to congratulate you on the party, yet again, it was a success.”

 She places her head on her hand, sighing exhaustedly. “Thank you, that really means a lot to me. I’m so glad you think so. I have been so stressed out lately because of it. I’d also like to thank you for last week, you didn’t have to let me fall asleep, let alone take me to your guest bedroom.” She grins sheepishly, tucking her hand beneath his tie. “I’m also happy that you liked your gift, I saw it and thought about you.” Her fingers softly glide along the fabric.

Her lips are a burgundy color, he cannot help but notice as she comes closer. He wonders if she thinks the same way as him. Jumin looks into her eyes to see if he can find the answer there. Instead, she simply wraps her arms around him, swaying from left to right gently. There is no music, but she makes her own rhythm. “You should dance with me.”

 Her hand is now in his, his arm cradling her back and pulling her closer as they move in unition. He finds himself speechless, only focused on the steps she makes. He thinks of all the ways he could confess to her, forgetting just why he had never said anything in the past. Because when he sees her now it’s almost as if he had been struck by Cupid’s arrow.

 He stops moving, lips parting open as he looks down at her. He wants to speak, but the words do not come. His mind is suddenly blank. Her eyes flicker for a moment before her head comes closer, he can feel her hot breath against his skin. By instinct, he tilts his head to the side, drawing in like a magnet.

 Their lips join finally when she stands on her toes. She tastes sweet, better than even the finest of wines. He immediately pulls her closer, years of pent up feelings releasing themselves in a single kiss. His hands are traveling everywhere on her body that he has ever longed to feel. When his tongue glides against her lower lip she gasps, running a hand through his hair. He moves his lips elsewhere, peppering kissing along her gnaw and down her neck.

 Jumin speaks between breaths. “I’m tired of pretending that I don’t want you.” His voice is low as he continues, now kissing her shoulder. This only makes her blush and forcefully hold back a moan.

 Right as his lips meet the scratchy fabric of her dress, he pulls away completely. “If you feel the same way, meet me at my apartment after the party.” There’s a sincere look in his eyes as he gazes at her, he’s softer than usual. His hands adjust his coat and hair before he walks back inside, disappearing from her view.

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

Safety First (Hugo Stiglitz x Reader)

Requested by @cass-danvers

@owba-chan @war-obsessed @inglourious-imagines @tealaquinn @struggling-bee @frozenhuntress67 @kwyloz @sodapop182

Let me know if you wanna be added to the IB or OUATIH taglists! :)

A/N: (p/n)=your pronouns :)

_________________________________________ Utivich was panicking as he cried out, "DO WE TAKE IT OUT OR LEAVE IT I-" Hugo pulled Utivich away from Wicki, who had a bullet in his chest, and blood pouring out his mouth. Hugo shook his head, and muttered,  "Don't do anything." "WHAT DO YOU MEAN DON'T DO ANY-" Donny was crouching by Wicki, "He's sayin' something in German. Hugo, listen!" Hugo sat by, and listened. "It's an address," he looked up at the others, all of which were as confused as him.  Aldo immediately turned to the last nazi they'd left alive, "Where the hell is that?"

The nazi raised a shaking finger as he stuttered some directions.

Aldo nodded, "Well, very kind of you, boy." He cleared his throat as he studied his newly acquired luger, "Normally we let one of you shit faces go with a pretty little mark on his face and a story to tell, but we can't have you tellin' 'em where we went, now can we, boy?" The nazi looked at Aldo with wide, terrified eyes. " An' that don't change the fact I got a man dyin' back there..." He raised the gun, and shot the last nazi in the face, as the basterds moved Wicki carefully. ******

It was nearly two in the morning when you heard a knock...no...a knock is polite. And unheard at such an ungodly hour. This was incessant, endless, deafening sound, threatening to break down the door.

Fortunately, you were wide awake, in a quiet room, hidden to the untrained eye, studying things that would be a death sentence if found by nazis.

You quickly and quietly hid the papers away, and pushed the bookcase back into its tidy space, hiding away your secret rebellions.

You sighed, knowing perhaps you were in over your head... Perhaps this would be the night your luck ran out.

When you opened the door and immediately saw a gun pointed directly between your eyes, you raised an eyebrow. You knew nazis would draw out their cynicism.

Then, you looked at the face behind the gun.

You recognized it from the newspapers, not so long ago.

Hugo Stiglitz.

In spite of an imminent threat of a bullet being lodged in your brain, you were no longer worrying, or even wondering what was wrong. His voice was demanding as he pushed the gun against your forehead. "Sind Sie ein Arzt?" 'Are you a doctor?' You nodded, and Hugo grabbed onto your collar, pushing you inside as what could only be the basterds, began to pour into your livingroom. "Schreie um Hilfe und du stirbst." 'Scream for help and you die.' "Notiert." 'Noted,' you smiled a bit smugly, then glanced past him, spotting a bloody man in their arms. "This way," you pulled away from Hugo, completely defying him and his threats...You knew the stories, and frankly anyone with half a mind in your place would be scared of him... But you weren't. You glanced at Hugo for a brief moment as you walked by and led them down the hall. That man was one of the most gorgeous people you'd seen in your life. And...he was stunned that you didn't even blink in the face of death. Hugo looked down at his thumb. When you pulled away from his grip, something on your collar had cut him. You pushed your bookcase aside, and turned on the lights. You pushed papers and maps away from a steel table, and turned on every lamp in the room. You pulled out a kit with surgical supplies, and pulled a cloth over the table. "Here." You turned, and saw the face of the basterd that was bloody and barely breathing. Your eyes went wide, and your heart skipped a beat. It couldn't be him... You shook your head once at yourself. No, this wasn't the time to be emotional. You had to act, and act quickly. There would be enough time for this nonsense later, you hoped. "That was fast..."Donny muttered as he and Aldo lugged Wicki onto the table. Smitty looked around, "Is no one going to ask what the fuck this place-" Aldo ignored him, and looked to you, "Is he going to live?" That struck you. Your half moment of hesitation took everyone's breath, and an uneasy, eerie silence blanketed the room. You turned to look at him, studied the wound for a moment, "Schwer zu erzählen..." 'Hard to tell...' you sighed, and Hugo caught on. He asked again. His tone was not quite as aggressive as it was minutes before. It was pleading, as you lingered by the doorway, on your way to wash your hands, Aldo following with a gun to make sure that was all you did. You turned for a moment, "Ich werde alles tun, was ich kann." 'I'll do everything I can...' You disappeared down the hall, and Omar asked, "What'd the doctor say?" "(P/n) will do the best (p/n) can." You ran back in, and started to lay out everything you needed. You looked up, "I have no morphine."

Hirschberg muttered something as he lit a cigarette. Aldo raised his gun, and kept it trained on you, making sure you did as you were told. "I need you to hold him down in case he wakes up." You set down a bottle of whiskey on the edge, and turned him over slightly. No exit wound... You nodded, silently hoping that bullet wound was shallow, and that  the bullet itself was in one piece. You felt a looming presence by you, and saw Hugo Stiglitz was standing over the wounded man, holding down his shoulders, just in case...though he seemed distracted, and distant. He was looking at you, with a gaze only a soldier could have. He'd seen much, but he was not ready to see his friend like that. You took a shot, "Sicherheit zuerst," 'Safety first,' which made Hugo’s expression soften. It was the closest thing to a smile as he made in a long time. Some of the other basterds circled around, ready to hold Wicki down if he woke up in the middle of it all, and also took a shot for 'safety.' You sighed, understanding how that soldier must have felt, placing his friend's life in the hands of someone he couldn't trust. Better yet, you knew you had to save Wicki. Because you didn't have time to explain that you knew him, and you had known him for most of your life. You had to save him because you had so many things to tell him. You had to save him because you wouldn't be able to bear life knowing that you didn't.  So, you sighed, and quietly explained everything you were doing, hoping that would ease at least Hugo Stiglitz. "Es sieht so aus, als ob keine Arterie oder kein Organ berührt wurde," 'Looks like no artery or organ was touched,' you glanced at him for a moment, and Hugo nodded once. You looked back down, patting away blood with a clean cloth. You shuddered as you took your scalpel, and took a breath. For years, you had stayed up late nights, wondering what had happened to Wilhelm. Now you knew. You met Wilhelm Wicki when you moved to the city as a kid. Wicki lived in the house next door. When you were older you moved out on your own, to the place where you lived now. Wil was your best friend, and he came over almost every day, always told you about work, asked you what he was doing wrong when his girlfriends were angry at him... One day, around 1938, you had a bit of a falling out, though nothing that couldn't  be fixed. He simply didn't show up. A day or two passed before you began to wonder about him. He didn't even answer the phone. Wilhelm wasn't one to hold a grudge, this just wasn't like him. So you marched down to his house, but he was gone... along with his mother and sisters. You feared the worst... you worried they'd been taken away. It wouldn't have been unheard of. You spent years looking for a clue, a sign, even a rumor. But you never found a word. So, you decided to do your best. You were a doctor, but that didn't mean you didn't have your own convictions. You wore a safety pin hidden by your collar, as many across Europe were doing as a sign of resistance. You built this hidden room to help people hide. You used maps and stolen documents to chart escape routes for Jewish families since you couldn't help Wicki. But now, as he was on that makeshift operating table, you realized you'd been looking for him on the wrong side of world. You smiled softly for a brief moment with a soft sigh. You whispered hopefully, "Wilhelm..." Hugo glanced at you, his eyebrow raised, wondering how you knew Wicki’s name. But, a gleam from your collar diverted his attention for a moment. His eyes widened, spotting the safety pin on your collar. He looked to Aldo, "Aldo, put the gun down." Aldo looked to Hugo, "What? But-" "The doctor's not a nazi." "How do you know?!" "Trust me." The basterds all looked at Hugo. He never said much, but when he did, they listened. You glanced at Hugo, and he looked to you, then nodded. Aldo lowered his gun. He sat on a nearby chair, and realized he was sitting on a few papers. He picked them up, and only took a few moments to realize who you really were. "Y'know doc, if we was nazis, you'd be sent to a firing squad by dawn," he smiled as he raised the papers up.   You chuckled, spotting what was in his hands, "I don't think so. That's far too much mercy for a traitor like me." Hugo whispered so softly, you didn't hear, but you felt his gaze fall on you again, "Wie wir." 'Like us...'  he referred to you, and himself. He knew you were right. He was tortured by the nazis as a traitor once, and for a moment, it horrified him to even imagine you going through something like that. In that moment, each and every basterd flocked to the table to hold down Wicki, who was screaming at the top of his lungs and beginning to thrash around. You focused back on him, looked into his wide, pain-struck eyes, and sweaty, palid face. "Just one minute more," you looked around as the basterds, just before you picked up the pace. Wicki's eyes feverishly focused on yours as you shook your head sincerely, and whispered "Es tut mir leid, es tut mir so leid, Liebling, nur noch eine Minute." "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, darling, just a minute more." His breathing slowed a little as you worked quickly, and he tried his best to hold still as you whispered, "Du bist in Ordnung. Du bist in Ordnung, alles ist in Ordnung, Wil." "You're ok. You're ok, everything's ok, Wil." Hugo  glanced up, seeing how gentle you were, and his heart sank a little, dismissing the fleeting hope that some day, someone somewhere would show at least an ounce of the kindness you showed to Wicki. "There, not so bad, was it?" You pulled the last stitch shut, and smiled wearily down at your old friend, who smiled through the pain, and murmured, "You're still here..." "I'd never leave," you smiled softly, as you patted sweat away from his skin. It was then that he looked up at you, "I'm sorry that I did." You shook your head, "That was so long ago," you smiled kindly at him, as Hugo looked on, wondering what had happened. "Y/n..." Wicki tried to get up, put you shook your head, "Rest now. We'll talk in the morning." Aldo asked Hugo, "What's goin' on?" Hugo glanced at you, then Wicki, then looked to his lieutenant. "Y/n...” He paused, and sighed slightly as he said your name, “Y/n  and Wicki knew each other once..." Donny shrugged, "Guess the address thing makes sense now..." **** It was decided later that night, in a relaxed and relieved circle littered with drinks, that Wicki was going to stay with you until he recovered. The basterds would come back for him. The next morning, Hugo was trying to think of something to say. He said something you already knew to be true, "We'll come back." "I know," you smiled softly, and it melted his heart. You were both quiet for an instant more than Hugo wanted. Normally, he was comfortable in silence, but, he liked hearing your voice. Somehow, it soothed aching memories that always lingered in the back of his mind. "I'm sorry if I scared you when-" You shook your head, "Don't be." "For yelling..." "I understand," You smiled a little again, poured him a drink, and handed it to him kindly. He looked at it, then at you. You both looked at each other for a moment or two, then couldn't help but to kiss. When it was over, Hugo opened his eyes a few moments after you did and remained breathless, and you giggled quietly as he smiled to hide a red shade of embarassment, It had been a long time since he kissed anyone. Longer still since he'd felt anything close to what he felt for you. "Can I make it up to you?" Suddenly, your expression changed. Something cunning, something lurking behind the kind smiles and soft giggles emerged in the form of a smirk and a twisted wink, "Bring me a nazi or two when you come back here." **** You and Wicki caught up, telling each other any and everything. Well...the one thing you didn't tell him was the time that you kissed Hugo. Some time passed. It was nearly four in the morning. You were halfway up the stairs on your way to your bedroom. Wicki had fallen asleep hours before, and was in another bedroom. Suddenly, you heard pounding at the door, and you stopped in your tracks. You sighed. It was a toss up between nazis searching your home again, the basterds coming back for Wicki, or a housecall for a sudden burst appendix. By the time you got downstairs, Wicki was already standing by the door, with a revolver in his hand. "Way to raise suspicions." He panicked for a moment, "If they're nazis, just...well...just say we're married an-" "That would never work! They'd know from records, first of all. Second of all, I wouldn't marry you." He rolled his eyes, "I forgot how mean you were." You both heard a familiar voice behind the door, "Wir sind keine Nazis" 'We're not nazis.' You smiled, and opened the door, finding the basterds there, Hugo up front, holding two nazis whose mouths were duct taped, and wrists were tied. "But we brought you a gift." You chuckled, "Come in, boys." You quickly shut the door so no one would see. Then again, only basterds like them would be up at that hour. "Gift number one, this boy here done broke his arm fightin' that nazi over there."  Aldo nudged Utivich over to you. The poor kid was holding up his arm, and seemed green from the pain. "How long's it been this way?" You asked as you started to feel for the broken bone. Utivich grimaced, "A few hours." "Come on," you led them all back to the sliding bookcase, and brought them all to the hidden room. "Sit there." You looked up, "Well the good new is, it isn't broken." Utivich shut his eyes as he rolled his head back, and muttered through gritted teeth, "Well it fucking feels like it." You nodded with a sigh, "I know but it's...oh shit...what's the word...." You glanced not to Wicki, but to Hugo. Wicki was stunned for a moment, but...he had suspected some things. By suspected...he saw you and Hugo kiss before the basterds left. He smiled, as you looked to Hugo and said, "Ausgerenkte?" He nodded, "Y/n says it's dislocated." "You're....you're gonna..." You saw the fear in the poor kid's eyes, and you smiled kindly, "It'll only take a second, don't worry. Take a breath,"  sure enough, as much as it hurt, and as much as he groaned, you remarked, "Don't scream too much, or you'll scare the next two." Hugo smirked, and looked at you. There it was again, that glint of something plotting...something vengeful beyond the gentle eyes and smiles. Once you were done fixing up Utivich's arm, you offered to put up the basterds for a few days so they could all rest. Once the basterds settled in, most of them fell asleep immediately. This was the first time they had warm, relatively safe beds to sleep in months. Only Hugo stayed awake, waiting until he heard you come upstairs. But he didn't. He heard the bookcase slide shut, and nothing after that. He looked for you, as soon as morning came, and in that hidden room, something unspeakable had happened. Something with an unmistakable flair for the macabre, and yet, with surgical precision. It was almost surreal. But revenge was revenge, and it was beautiful in Hugo's eyes, just as you were. He looked at your work, and the unidentifiable nazis, then at you. "This place is sound proof, isn't it..." That smirk was all he needed as an answer. He smirked right back. All evidence was expertly wiped down. The results of your experiment were left somewhere the nazis in the city could find as a warning, but not traced back to you. Soon, it was the basterds' last night staying with you. Hugo noted you were quieter, and a little distant. The silence wasn't so unnerving this time, just heartbreaking. Hugo kissed you, and you kissed him. There was an air of desparation shared by both of you, knowing that nothing was ever certain in the time you lived in. He broke away from your lips for a spare moment, and whispered, 'Ich werde zurück kommen.' "I'll come back." You smiled softly, remembering the last time he promised that. "Ich weiß." 'I know.' You looked up at him. Your quiet, soft smile fading into something more as you began to wrap your legs around him. He smirked at you,  shutting the bookcase behind him, as he wrapped his arms around you, winking about the sound proof room, as he remarked "Sicherheit zuerst," 'Safety first.'

[blueeyedgeorgie]

Close My Eyes(2)

I close my eyes and I make believe You’re the one that’s holding me…

Pairing: WillNE x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k+

Pronouns: She/Her

____________

"You really want my honest opinion?“

Will and Y/n sat side by side in front of his desk as YouTube had been pulled up on his computer screen.

"Yup,” Y/n gave a small nod as her eyes watched the screen scroll down through Will’s homepage.

"I think you’re being a bit harsh on Gaby. She was just trying to look out for you,“ Will stopped scrolling and looked to Y/n.

"Was I just being bitchy?” Y/n let out a small sigh.

"Well, I wasn’t there so I can’t decide that for you. But from what I’ve heard, I’m just assuming you were just being a little bit sensitive,“ Will gave a small shrug, looking back to his computer screen.

"Maybe it was just the engagement butterflies,” y/n replied. Will didn’t say anything, all he could do was focus on refusing to allow himself to cringe.

After a few moments of looking for random videos to react to, Will and Y/n had decided to watch a couple of 90 Day Fiance videos. With a lineup of five videos, Will turned on his camera and began his usual intro.

"Right, Hello! How’s it going? Welcome back to the-“

Will had only just begun his intro when a soft tug came from the top of his head, pulling the black beanie off his head to show his messy bed head.

Will looked to Y/n, seeing the girl place the beanie on her own head. "Yeah, so I plan on wearing this for the entire video.”

"Oh, okay-“ Will had paused, his voice cracking. Y/n let out a small laugh. The butterflies in Will’s stomach had only increased from her laugh. ‘God, you’re gorgeous.’

Will cleared his throat before he began to speak again, "Alright then, but you’ve just exposed how lazy I actually am.” Will had motioned to his hair, which seemed to never have met a hairbrush in its life.

Y/n merely stood up and walked out of the room.

"N/n? Where you going?“ Will called after her, turning in his seat.

Y/n didn’t reply, only to walk back into the room moments later with a hairbrush in hand.

"Did you go into my bathroom to find a hairbrush?” Will let out a playful scoff.

"Yes, now shush,“ Y/n smiled, turned the brunette back around to face the camera. For what felt like forever, Y/n had brushed out Will’s hair, fixing it up. While y/n was busy with that, Will had opened up a new window, pulling up Instagram. Soon enough, Y/n had finished up and sat back down next to her dear friend.

Will looked into the screen of his camera, seeing himself. "Holy shit, Y/n… it looks great.”

"I know,“ Y/n gave a nod as she watched him.

"Anyways, today we have y/n here to watch some good ol’ 90-day fiance,” Will immediately went back into his intro as Y/n gave a small wave to the camera.

The pair had ended up watching the first two videos on big Ed.

"Big Ed honestly scares me quite the bit,“ Y/n had spoken up just as they had finished the third video.

"I can understand why,” Will chuckled. “You’re a gorgeous young lady, Ed here would probably come after you telling you to shave your legs.”

'Did I just call her gorgeous?'

"Yo-“

Before Y/n could continue what she was saying, she had been stopped by the sound of her phone ringing. Everett was calling.

"Sorry for not turning off my ringer… do you mind if I take this?” Y/n let out a small sigh.

"It’s… it’s alright, go ahead,“ Will gave a small shrug, pulling out his own phone.

Y/n had left the room, only to walk into the hallway as she picked up the phone.

"Y/n, where are you?”

Y/n sucked in a breath as soon as she heard her fiance’s voice. He was clearly very upset. “I’m hanging out with… Will. We’re working on a video together.”

"Are you joking?“ Everett quickly shot back, "if he posts a video with you in it, how will that make me look? Like a fool. My fiance is hanging around other men and not even bothering to tell me of her whereabouts.”

"I’m sorry, Ev. Will’s just a friend, nothing more,“ Y/n let out a soft sigh as she leaned against the wall.

"I want you to come home right now. Just the thought of you hanging around him annoys me. You could be cheating on me at this very moment and I could never know,” venom was laced in Everett’s voice as he spoke.

"Well, if I could just finish the video with Will and he post-“

"Just come home, Y/n. Like I told you,” Y/n’s fiance had finally snapped, slightly raising his voice. Y/n flinched, pulling the phone away from her ear.

"Alright, alright… I’m on my way,“ Y/n had quickly hung up, walking back into Will’s bedroom.

Will turned in his seat to look back at Y/n, "You ready to film again?”

"I’m sorry, Will. I have to go… Everett needs me,“ Y/n bit her lip.

'I really don’t want to go. I just want to waste the day away filming with you.’

"Oh… okay then… Do you want me to walk you back to your car?” Will replied. There was some type of emotion on his face that Y/n couldn’t properly read.

'Please don’t go back to that jackass. Stay with me.’

"No, it’s alright,“ Y/n gave a small shrug. "You should get started on refilming… or just continuing the video we had already started filming."

'There’s nothing more I’d like than having you walk with me. But I don’t want there to be any chance someone spots us and Everett gets mad.’

"You sure?”

'I honestly don’t think I could be in the mood for filming once you leave.’

"Yeah… I’ll see you later.“

'God, I wish I could stay.’

"Yup, have fun with your fiance.”

'I fucking hate him.’

Y/n let out a small giggle, “I’ll try to.”

'Please make me stay.’

With that, Y/n headed out of the room still wearing Will’s beanie, her smile fading as soon as Will could no longer see her.

A week had passed by since when Y/n and Will had tried to film a video together. Anytime Will had tried to text or call Y/n, she’d only end up texting back something that wasn’t even a full sentence and she’d never bother to pick up. This had only made Will much more stressed than he had to be.

"Maybe she’s just been busy lately, Will,“ Alex had pulled Will out of his thoughts as soon as he mentioned 'she’.

Will was on a Discord call with the other Eboys, they had just been chatting about whatever came to mind and future plans for the Eboy channel.

"Yeah, busy fucking her fiance,” Will let out a dramatic scoff.

"Will, calm down. I told you that she’s probably just in love with the idea of love. She’ll get over Conway before the wedding even comes close to happening,“ George had commented.

"Wait, I’m actually confused here. Is there something going on between Will and Y/n?” James added on. James being James, he had never realized that Will had been crushing on his best friend, while both George and Alex had figured it out quicker than they should have.

"Will had been crushing on Y/n since forever,“ Alex summarized.

"Wait, and so you never told me Will, but you told both George and Alex?” James had asked his second question.

"No, they had just found out about it on their own,“ Will let out a deep sigh.

"I… I actually think you and Y/n would look cute together,” James had merely given a shrug even though the rest of the boys couldn’t see him.

"Same here,“ George had claimed after James had finished up talking.

"I honestly think all of us think that’s the pair of you would be a good couple, Will,” Alex had also pointed out.

At this point, Will had been listening to his friends while he stared at the iPhone he held in his lap. Y/n’s texts had been pulled up. He scrolled through, rereading their conversations.

"Honestly, I think you should just say fuck it and tell her how you’re feeling,“ James spoke.

Will looked up from his phone to his computer, "Are you kidding? She’s engaged, James. She’d reject me right away and everything would be awkward between us.”

"Well, at some point you’ll have your chance, Will,“ George let out a sigh.

Will only shook his head, looking back to his phone.

'Should I tell her?’

“Okay so, welcome back to the Eboys channel. Today I’m with-obviously the rest of the Eboys,” George had begun speaking to his camera. The boys had decided to film another video of the Eboys channel.  Will had let out his usual laugh of joy as George had done the intro. “Please say hello.” At the same time, James, Alex, and Will had ended up waving to their cameras, let out their ‘hellos’ in different tones. “And today, we’ve done a green screen challenge. Now, who wants to explain what a green screen challenge is?” George had quickly finished his intro, beginning to speak about the topic of today’s video. “Probably you because you’re doing the intro mate,” Will had responded. Just as he spoke, his phone buzzed. Y/n had texted him. N/N: Proud to say I still have your beanie. A small smile came across Will’s lips as he quickly typed back; 'Jokes on you, I have plenty more.’ “Yeah, I think you should do it,” James commented, pulling Will’s attention back to the video. Alex had let out a slight wheeze from James as Will continued his laughing. “Basically, what we’ve done is we’ve recorded ourselves in front of our green screens, sent the footage to each other and basically come up with whatever we can,” George had tried to be quick once more in explaining what was going to happen. “Good explanation, George,” James had smiled to his camera, dramatically clapping. “I’m not good at explaining things but-” “So like the screen is like green and you like get rid of it,” Alex had cut George of, mimicking him in a snottish tone. Soon enough the boys got into reacting to each other’s videos and of course, some of them they absolutely could not put into the actual video. The rotation of who’s videos they’d watch first had gone from Will, who had made his videos quite chaotic in the best ways possible. Alex had gone after Will, his videos had been much more low-quality editing compared to Will’s but they were still hilarious. It was now James’ turn, and of course, all his videos had been more much darker than what the others had expected… except for one video. Will was on screen with a giant smile, “Hi, I’m WillNE. And this turns me on.” Behind him was a photo of Y/n. Will had turned red as soon as the video had played. Each member of the Eboys beside him was laughing. George had even fallen out of his seat. “I don’t think we can even put that video-” “Of course we can!” Alex had cut Will off in between his wheezes, “the internet knows Y/n.” “I-” “If you want to keep the video in say 'I’,” James had cut off Will. All three of the boys had quickly said their 'I’s’ before Will had gotten the chance to intervene. “Alright, looks like this clip will be staying in the video,” George had finally ended up back in his seat, readjusting his glasses. “Fans are gonna be wild about this one,” James added on. Immediately, Alex and George had gone back to laughing hysterically. For what felt like forever they had known about Will’s crush, and to have a video like this online was gonna end up making the fans go even more wild about shipping Will and Y/n than they had already been. “Let’s just pray she doesn’t watch this video,” Will let out a long breath, glancing at his camera with a worried look in his eyes.

Y/n found herself laughing along with the boys as she had gotten to the video of Will saying that she turned him on. Soon enough the boys had ended up posted the Green Screen video and of course the boys had stayed with their word that the video of Will would go into the final cut. Y/n had scrolled to the comments as the video continued to play, seeing all the different comments. (Ship name) IS ENDGAME I guess we’re all going to hell for laughing at James’s edits If Will and Y/n don’t end up together I will literally kms George kinda hot doe Will not wanting the video of him saying Y/n’s hot is such a sub move Y/n giggled to herself as she read what the fans had to say. “Maybe I should just leave one comment…” She found herself typing away for a second or two before she had finally hit the 'comment’ button. WillNE being turned on by Y/n L/n? This is some real tea boys Y/n  had found herself replaying just the small bit of Will saying she turned him on. Why? Oh, she had no clue. Maybe she was just intrigued? But whatever it was, Y/n didn’t want to stop hearing Will say that about her, even if James was the one who had ended up editing it. “Darling, what are you looking at?” Y/n had flinched, shutting off her phone just as she had heard her dear fiance. He was standing behind her as she sat on the couch of their living room. “Just watching some YouTube,” Y/n had given a small smile. “Oh really?” Everett moved to sit next to her, “what exactly were you watching?” “Just a Memeulous video,” she gave a small shrug. “May I see your phone please?” Everett placed his hand out expectantly as his beady eyes stared at her. With a small sigh, Y/n had handed her phone over. Without hesitation, The raven-haired man had opened her phone. He had to know her password, she wasn’t allowed to keep her phone locked away from him. As soon as the phone unlocked, the video had begun playing again. 'Hello, I’m WillNE and this turns me on.’ Everett’s grip on the phone tightened. “This is the type of videos you enjoy watching?” His voice had deepened, “you enjoy watching your male friend say that he’s sexually attracted to you when you’re engaged to someone?” “Everett, it’s not like that-” “Then explain to me, Y/n!” Everett had snapped angrily, pushing the phone into Y/n’s face. “Because it looks like you’d prefer to have this fool over me!” At this point Everett had raised his voice, making Y/n flinch. “It’s just a joke-the boys are just playing around-” “Stop defending them,” Everett had yelled, keeping the phone pointed into Y/n’s face. “You’re supposed to be my wife soon, not Will’s!” “I know! I’m sorry-” “Oh shut up,” Everett stood up, still holding onto Y/n’s phone. “If you’re smart, you’ll behave. Until then, you’re not getting your phone back anytime soon.” At this point, Y/n had already started crying. She had ended up balling herself up, sitting on the edge of the couch. She felt like shit. Everett found himself walking into their room, slamming the door shut, causing the door frame to shake. He had quickly locked the door and sat at his desk, opening up his laptop. 'This jackass dares to try and take what’s mine,’ he had thought to himself as he began to google everything he could possibly find on his enemy. After around an hour or two, Everett had ended up collecting a handful of information. His name is Will Lenney and his birthday is March 11, 1996. He had known Y/n since forever and his fanbase had loved the thought of them being a couple together. He had played a charity game of football and he has over 3 million subscribers. The more Everett knew, the more he hated Will. Soon enough, he had found himself on YouTube with 'WillNE and Y/n’ in his search bar. There were tons of videos. But a certain video had caught his eye. ’Will and Y/n acting like a married couple for 6 minutes straight.’ Everett’s blood boiled as he clicked onto the video. The video began with a short clip of Will and Y/n dancing together from the time they had been invited to a party. They both were single at the time and had decided to go together. The dance had been sweet and gentle as Will’s hands had been placed on Y/n’s hips while Y/n leaned her head against his shoulder. The video had continued on to another scene where Alex, Will, and Y/n all sat in front of a MacBook on a white couch. Will had ended up laughing hard at something on Will’s computer, having him throw his head into Y/n’s lap. Y/n smiled down at him and had gently brushed her fingers through his hair. 'I think I’m just gonna stay like this for the rest of the video,’ Will had hummed, closing his eyes. 'I’m alright with that,’ Y/n giggled. The video had changed again. This time Will and Y/n sat in a room together at a desk, Y/n had been explaining something about 'stage kissing.’ Gently, Y/n brushed her fingers onto Will’s lips and leaned in. 'Wait so we’re not gonna actually kiss?’ Will had interrupted. 'Yeah, but you also get clickbait,’ Y/n hummed with a playful smile. Everett slammed his Macbook shut. He felt sick. All this time Will had been messing around with his girl, even before they had been together. 'I need to know what she has to say about this,’ Everett stood up, unlocking the door. As soon as he had stepped into the living room, his eyes glazed over the scene. She was gone. Everett was quick on his feet, continuing to look around for there to be any chance that she was still in the apartment. Nowhere. She was nowhere. With a loud sigh, Everett pulled out his phone and quickly dialed the one person who would know where she’d be. “What do you want, Conway?” Gaby’s irritated one could be heard. “Is she with you?” “No, she’s not. And 'she’ has a name,” Gaby could be heard scoffing loudly. “Whatever. Do you know where she is?” “I have a couple of guesses but I’m not gonna tell you.” “Tell me or I’ll revoke your wedding invitation,” Everett growled. That hit a nerve. Gaby and Y/n had been looking all over for a nice maid of honor dress for her to wear and Gaby had soon enough found a couple she actually liked. “She’s probably at Will’s home or something,” Gaby let out a long sigh. “Where is that?” “Why should I-” “I’ll gladly take you off the guest list.” Within minutes, Everett was in his car driving off to take back his bride.

[allzelemonz]

The Commanding General: Commander Cody X NSG Reader

This chapter contains smut. I kept it fairly gender neutral, when referencing specifics I put the respective terms in parentheses as I do with pronouns (she/he). Note that all pronouns used are (she/he/they), this work is friendly to as many as it can be.

Part 4/?

“What should we do, sir?” Drag shouted. “We’re closed off here.” You sighed. “It’s just me and Kenobi’s Commander, get the wounded back to base.” “We can’t just leave you, sir.” “It’s getting dark, you’ll freeze if you stay out in the open.” “So will you, we’ve got to get you out.” Drag insisted. “The Commander and I are in a closed space, heat will last and we’ve got heating packs to last us the night.” You yelled back. “Get the men to cover and come see what you can do in the morning.” “But, sir-” “Do you have an immediate plane that won’t endanger the wounded in your care, Sergeant?” “No, sir.” “Then get them to safety, the Commander and I are perfectly fine.” You assured.. “We can last, they can’t.” “We’ll be back first thing in the morning, sir.” Drag confirmed. “I’ll hold you to that.” You paused. “Drag!” “Yes, sir?” “General Kenobi is likely force spent, make sure he rests and do not let him come with you in the morning.” “Yes, sir.” The only sounds you could hear now were footsteps crunching in the snow with the faint shout of orders. You turned to Cody with a huff. “At least we’re alone?” You tried to make light. Cody chuckled as he took off his helmet. He felt the cold air on his face and shivered. “Lets get the heat source set up.” He took the different pieces off his belt and handed a few to you. After a few moments of struggling to put the tool together you both managed. The heat sources lit up and you both placed them near where you’d decided to sleep. It was probably for the best that it was you and Cody stuck here, using anyone else as a heat source wouldn’t be ideal. Granted, you did go to Ilum with Obi-Wan as Padawans and it was so cold at one point you didn’t dare let go of each other for a while. You took off your robe, putting your coat back on as quickly as you could. The robe would be a decent blanket, or something to separate from the icy floor. Cody checked the heat sources to make sure they’d last the night and found they would to both your relief. Once you knew you weren’t going to die, it was nice to be alone with Cody. Even if, in the morning, the troopers did rush in, you had an excuse to be found cuddling the Commander. You’d be using the hell out of that if it came to it. You and Cody wasted no time in coming together once you laid down to rest. Cody pulled you as close as he could, his armor built to act as a heating source as well. You clung to him, basking in what little heat came off of his armor. The night went on, snow fell outside. You could tell if it was a blizzard or not, but you couldn’t sleep no matter the weather. Cody laid awake as well. He could feel you shivering. He was as well, but he wasn’t nearly as cold. “(Y/n)?” “What is it?” You had to hold your teeth from clattering. “I heard, in a tavern once, that people can warm each other up-” “I know.” You interrupted. “But, I feel like in this cold we’d freeze before we got anywhere.” “We could try-” You interrupted him again, kissing him this time around. He pushed back. Your hands rested lazily at his waist, not able to feel anything through your gloves. Cody’s hand, however, found it’s resting place between your legs. His thumb stroking the highest point of your thigh. You could feel the heat start up in your core as you began to get (hard/wet). “Careful, Cody.” You muttered. “Don’t want to leave any evidence of-” You couldn’t finish your sentence before you had a change of heart. A cold burst of wind easily made you crave the heat again. “Nevermind.” You pressed into his hand more, urging him on and resuming the kiss. Cody obliged, pressing into you through your thick clothing. You did the same, reaching and palming as much as you could with the armor piece in the way. Cody wasn’t having that though, the heat in his gut too tempting. He released the crotch piece of his armor, left in the snow pants. You continued, now with ease of access. Cody moved his lips to your neck, bringing another sense of warmth that you now craved. You pressed harder with your hand, trying to make up for the thickness of Cody’s pants. You could feel his hardened member faintly. “Hold on.” Cody fidgeted with his belt, trying to find an easy, and none freezing way, for you to reach in. He finally did and you reached in as he brought you back into a kiss. Your hand dove further down until you found his underwear. You inched inside until you felt his familiar hardness in your hand. You didn’t have a good way to pump, so you just stroked and palmed what you could. All the while, you hadn’t noticed Cody working his way through your coat and pants to gain access to you. Once his hand was against you, you moaned his name. Low and sultry. “We don’t really have to be quiet this time.” Cody noted as he began to pleasure you with his hand. “Cody-” You moaned. “Trust me, I know.” The clone smiled at his name on your lips only for it to be overcome with your name on his as you pressed more into his member. As Cody worked you over you forgot where you were. You didn’t feel cold anymore, the heat of pleasure keeping you warm. “(Y/n)?” Cody moaned. “I really need...)” You knew what he meant. You brought your hand out and began to move yourself, but Cody stopped you. “It’s too cold… for-” “I know.” You brought his pants and underwear down just enough to bring your mouth to his member. Cody hissed at the sensation. You didn’t dare take him out completely, or very much for that matter. You bobbed your head ever so slightly, taking acre to use your hands to cover what skin was showing. This went on for a few moments as Cody started to thrust lightly before he came. You swallowed what you could, the cum wouldn’t do you any good to make a mess for all to see, and force forbid it freeze on you or your clothes. Cody came down from his high rather quickly as he’d done before. You had barely got his pants back up before he began to move you back on your back. He brought your clothes down just as you had done with him. Your jacket acted nicely to cover any other bare skin. Cody didn’t waste any time in (eating you out/ blowing you). He moved skillfully and with purpose, as a soldier does. You gritted your teeth before remembering you didn’t have to. You let his name out in a shout as he (hit your sweet spot/ cupped his tongue along your member). The feeling overwhelming. After a few more moments you came into Cody’s mouth as he had yours. He made sure to (swallow/ lick it up), creating as little mess as possible. The heat slowly began to fade as you came back to reality. Cody had fixed you pants and laid back next to you. You brought him as close as you could. You brought the heat sources closer with the force. Placing one right at your feet and the other close to your heads. Cody pulled your robes over the two of you and you both got as close as you could. The cold was never gone for long.

[cjwallflower]

Marvel Gender Headcanons

because i doubt some of these people are cis

Peter: 

i claim this man for the trans community

he realised he was trans at around present time (15-16 years old)

he knows his family and friends will accept him

he’s still N E R V O U S

but he still wants to be true to his identity

so he wears the trans flag colours!!

Ned obvs catches on, but doesn’t say anything

Tony’s the first one Peter comes out to, bc i’m soft and irondad owns my heart

Tony gets him a spider suit with a binder built in

Peter is absolutely the kind of trans guy who forgets to take off his binder (i’m not projecting what do you mean)

he comes out to his aunt May next, and she breaks out the scissors

the other eventually figure it out, and they accept him immediately

Peter: Hey Clint?

Clint: Yo

Peter: I’m trans

Clint: *takes a gulp of his soda* wig

Peter: ???

they love him though let’s be real

Natasha Punches A Transphobe

someone calls Peter a tr*nny 

Natasha sends them on a one way trip to space :)

Peter absolutely decides to go on T

and he is a handsome!! boy!!

he eventually tells Ned and MJ, and they accept him too

Ned buys him a trans flag

NED BUYS HIM A TRANS FLAG

by the time they’re graduating high school, Peter passes as cis very well

Tony:

i’m claiming Tony as trans too

i promise there’s other gender identities here jdsfhkhsdfkjh

Tony came out in the 80s of all times

we know Howard

it didn’t go over well

Maria didn’t say much about it, but Howard was actively against it

Tony didn’t care at all

he literally snuck out and got a fake ID so he could start on T

Tony was almost 18 at that point, but he still used Howard’s money

just to piss him off

well Howard ended up dying like 3 years later

Maria survived because fuck you

but Tony never ended up getting any surgeries because he ended up getting busy with the company

he just didn’t have time, with all the recovery that goes into it

he’s still on T though!!

mans has tiddies and a beard, the boomers get confused

he tends to keep it more private though

Pepper knows, how could she not?

Pepper is the sole reason Tony survived to adulthood lbr

Peter found out accidentally

Tony got oil on a shirt while fixing one of his machines, and Peter walked in while he had it off

he saw the binder and boyyy was that a surprise

but it totally explained how Tony already knew so much about supporting Peter in his transition

the problem with being an ADHD workaholic?? 

hyperfocusing

when Tony hyperfocuses, he forgets to take off his binder

Jarvis: Sir, you need to take off your binder

Tony: Gimme like five more minutes, I need to finish this

Jarvis: Sir, it’s been 38 hours??

Tony: *already moving onto the next task* What’s your point?

his ribs are so fucked

Pepper and Peter remind him too

my boy is a mess

Thor:

this is solely because my nb loml claimed thor as nb and it’s super fucking valid

i love you babe 🥺

so Thor learned about different genders from Loki

and also from Peter tbh

but Thor LOVED the idea of being in between

it just made him really happy!!

he started using those labels a lot, even though he didn’t know much about what they meant

being on Earth more, he started to learn more about them

mostly because they replaced cops at pride (Peter’s idea)

so Thor decided to learn more

he knew he liked boys, that wasn’t uncommon on Asgard

gender expression was very open, but that blurred the lines a lot for him

when he got to non-binary, it clicked

“oh that sounds like me”

“THATS ME”

he was excited he’d figured it out

his immediate instinct?

he went to tell Loki

the only problem was Loki was asleep

“LOKI LOKI LOKI-”

“what do you wANT-”

“I’M NON-LIBRARY!!”

“WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN-”

it took like ten minutes for Loki to figure out what he meant

Loki was tired give him a break

he just kinda pushed Thor’s face away and went back to sleep

they talked about it again in the morning

after Loki got some coffee he was more receptive

“I accept you, just please stop waking me up at 2 am”

Thor’s just trying his best

he doesn’t know how to be non-binary though

(there is no right way to be enby though)

so Loki tried a few example sentences using they/them pronouns

Thor LOVED it

so now Thor wanted to use they/them pronouns

Loki isn’t a brain cell by any means

but he sure feels like one sometimes

and he’s tired of it

ANYWAYS

Thor announced it to everyone they saw

some people heard it multiple times

“GUYS I’M NON-BINARY!! :D”

they were happy for their thude

and Thor wore an enby flag to their first pride!!

now the protector of the lesbians says non-library rights

Loki:

Loki basically always knew he was genderfluid

it just seemed really obvious to him?

he realised he wasn’t cis when he was 7

he transformed into a girl for fun 

and she was like “oh i like this-”

so she experimented with that

and she fucking loved all of them

so she turned back into a boy and went to Frigga

that’s how he found out about the word genderfluid

so he basically just grew up shapeshifting as much as he wanted

when they eventually went to earth, Loki couldn’t shapeshift as much

after he was redeemed, he still needed to be recognisable so they wouldn’t think he was to pull a fast one on them

he was uncomfy 

Loki stays in his room a lot

he just really doesn’t wanna deal with it

he still shapeshifts in private!

Thor ends up being the one to catch on

but he kinda knows that Loki won’t talk to him

so he sends in the spider child!

Loki and Peter have a pretty close bond

so on one of the nights they hang out, it’s a she/her day

and Loki just kinda snapped and went on a bit of a rant

and she ended up coming out to Peter

Loki totally didn’t end up crying what do you mean

she just needs a hug

obvs Peter was accepting

he gave her that hug don’t worry

this was all on a rooftop eating bad street food jhshkfhjfkhkd

he did ask if he could tell the others, and Loki reluctantly agreed

yeah, the others felt kinda bad

so they ended up compromising!!

Loki could shapeshift, but not into other people 

and she could wear whatever she wanted

they also gave her bracelets so she could express her pronouns

its a long road

and it takes a long time to build trust

but Loki really does appreciate Thor and Peter’s efforts

Bucky:

trans enby rights. send tweet

let’s jump back to 1930s

Bucky was transitioning before the war

he had the surgeries and was on T

Steve was the only one who really knew 

it was right when HRT was starting to become a thing

he was one of the first people to try it

and it worked pretty well!

Bucky passed easily after ~2 years on T

but then he died

RIP Bucky :(

when he comes back as a Hydra agent, they use T supplements to make his body stronger

“Jokes on you, I like that shit”

yeah no the others end up rescuing him from there

but Bucky still takes T

everyone is a bit worried about it

they think he’s still under Hydra’s control

Steve has to explain it (with Bucky’s permission)

but Bucky really starts feeling a disconnect with being a male

it’s mostly due to the trauma from Hydra

he knows he’s not a girl anymore

but he hates the idea of being a boy now

so he has no idea what he is

he ends up drawing the parallel between himself and Thor

but Bucky still sees some masculinity in Thor, which confuses him a LOT

Bucky’s always confused lbr

so he ends up finding the term Agender

and he understands it!! and likes it!!

he’s too nervous to tell the others, so he writes sentences using they/them pronouns

“Their name is Bucky Barnes”

“Bucky is tired, they need a nap”

“Bucky’s best friend is Steve. They’ve known Steve since the beginning”

Bucky is WAY happier with they/them pronouns

the problem is they don’t know how to communicate that

even to Steve, they’re just nervous

Steve ends up finding the paper, which now has over 100 sentences

so the next time they’re alone, Steve brings it up, and after a little bit of avoiding answering, Bucky tells him about it

Steve is super accepting 🥺

“Do you want me to tell the others for you?”

“Yes please, I have no idea what I’m doing-”

“I don’t think any of us do”

so Steve lets the others know, and they start using they/them pronouns

Bucky’s IMMEDIATELY so much happier

i just think they’re neat-

MJ:

MJ isn’t cis, fuck you

MJ is a demigirl

and no one even figured it out for the longest time

she kinda groups herself on the more non-binary side

Peter finds out because someone calls her by they/them pronouns

“MJ?? Are you?? Non-binary??”

“Nope”

“Are you still a girl??” 

“Nope”

after like 20 mins Peter figures it out

and boy is he confused

“Why didn’t you just say it?”

“I couldn’t. Gotta keep ‘em on their toes”

“Who??”

“:)”

the M in MJ stands for mystery

anyways!!

she switches from lesbian to the term Trixic (NBLW)

MJ goes to pride with Peter and Ned that year

MJ gets a girlfriend there!!

she comes out to her girlfriend upfront. she doesn’t feel like waiting

yeah she gets intense

she gets it from her moms

who can blame her

MJ sometimes wears a binder

she wore one on the first day of school, because Peter was nervous about being out (he’d come out over the summer)

MJ will punch transphobes and homophobes

even just for fun tbh

but she won’t do it immediately

she heard someone make a comment about Ned and his boyfriend and waited a few days

and then came out of nowhere

B O N K

the douchebag kinda knew why though 

in conclusion, MJ is elite

[thechildoflightning]

The Kübler-Ross Model Ch3- Bargaining

Title: The Kübler-Ross Model [Masterpost]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: background LAMP

~~~

Chapter Title: Bargaining- Chapter Three

Summary: 

Stage Three: Bargaining- Characterized by making internal and external deals in order to cope with or even attempt to fix a loss.

In which Remy is talking, but not nearly enough.

Warnings: Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Suicide & Rape & Hate Crimes (all mentioned), Transphobia & Racism & Fatphobia & Ableism (all mentioned)

[ao3 link]

Bargaining- Chapter Three

“Selected: Voicemail. One item. Tab one of one,” Remy’s phone claims, direct and to the point. Remy knows it’s from his dad, he’s the only one leaving Remy voicemails. He puts his finger to the screen, sliding it around as he searches for the desired section.

“Voicemail.”

One finger down.

“Daniel Zurko. M-”

Double tap.

“Look Remy, I get that you’re not happy. I know how much going to university meant to you. I get that, okay? But it just isn’t realistic and you need to accept that. I- look why don’t you come home? The college in town is great, maybe you can take a few courses there. I think it’s too late to sign up for this semester but maybe you can start in the spring. I know they don’t have some of the sculpture classes you were interested in but they have some creative writing courses and that’s pretty much the same thing, right? Just… Please call me. We can work something out together.”

-

A little while later, Remy and Patton settle in the living room. Patton sits on the couch and Remy’s a few feet away on the floor, hugging his dog as he slowly stops sniffling. Cha-Cha helps him out, covering his face in kisses to get rid of the tears. Remy laughs little and pushes her away after a moment.

The small chuckles ring out as the only noise in the room.

Patton still doesn’t speak.

Remy quickly falls silent.

“I came out as trans when I was fourteen,” Patton eventually says, “But- I- I mean I don’t- there wasn’t one moment for me. I- gosh I debated it for forever.” 

Patton stops and Remy considers. Remy’s kind of surprised in all honesty. Patton has always seemed so sure of himself that it surprises Remy that Patton ever had any sort of doubt.

“Why- why’d it take so long?” Remy asks carefully.

Patton hums.

“I guess- I was scared. That was definitely a big piece. There was this huge fear of what it would mean for my life if I was trans. Everything would change.”

Remy swallows hard. 

“I was- I didn’t know what my family would think. I mean- I knew they were supportive but it’s different when it’s your kid, y’know? And there’s all the statistics of suicide attempts, rape numbers, hate crimes, it was a lot. 

“And I- I was also scared I was wrong? Because- because there’s this idea of what a black girl’s supposed to be like, y’know? And I had never been that. But I thought- I thought maybe it was just that? Maybe I wasn’t trans, maybe I was just pissed at the racist standards that follow black girls? And I hated my body but like- how much of that was trans versus being disabled? Versus being fat? So there were all these reasons that screamed at me that I was faking, that I wasn’t valid, that I could never be trans. It was scary because what if I was wrong, what if I was faking?”

Remy’s so scared of being wrong.

“If you were so scared of being wrong- how did you figure out that you were right?”

“I kept coming back to it,” Patton answered honestly, “And I thought- gosh if I keep having these excuses of why I’m not trans but I still end up here again and again and again, questioning my gender and so unhappy, then it’s gotta be true, right?”

Remy thinks she understands.

“And that was it at first, it still is,” Patton continues, “A big part of it now is trusting myself. I’m happy as a guy. It feels right. It is right. I’ve always been a guy. But there’s still doubts, and I guess I deal with those with just accepting them? Because maybe I am faking. Like- maybe. I mean I know I’m trans, but I think I’m always going to have that doubt. And if I’m always going to have that doubt, I’m going to live the way that makes me happy in the meantime. Does that make any sense?

“Yes,” Remy says, and she means it. “Yes. Yes. It does.”

Patton offers a small hum.

“Patton,” Remy says, and she's desperate now, oh so desperate. “Patton,” she insists. “Patton, I’m a girl.”

“Okay.”

Remy cries for the second time that night.

Patton offers a hug, and Remy shakily gets to her feet to collapse into his side. Patton wraps her up firm and tight and he listens to her. He listens and he hugs and he soothes.

It’s so nice.

Her mom never did this for her. She got so sick so fast that it had always been Remy comforting her than the other way around.

Her dad had, or he tried at least. He had wrapped Remy up, wrapped her up in layers and layers of bubble wrap, leading to suffocation instead of protection. Remy’s dad hugged her but it had always felt wrong. It always felt like it was about her dad, never actually about herself. His hugs were given as proof that Remy needed him, needed his suffocation, versus providing any actual care or comfort.

Remy hated that she almost missed them.

She curled into Patton a bit more. Patton lifted one hand to gently stroke her hair, soft ‘it's okay, it’s all going to be okay’ on repeat.

It takes her longer to stop crying this time.

“So,” Patton says, “Where do you want to go with this?”

“I’m a girl,” Remy says again. This time it's a bit stronger. “I’m a trans woman.”

“Okay. Absolutely,” Patton says, “That’s amazing and I’m so happy for you.”

There’s a pause.

“Can I ask about names and pronouns?” Patton prods gently.

“I… Uh,” Remy falters, because she hasn’t really thought this far yet.

“You can take all the time you need,” Patton adds, gentle and sweet, “And while I want you to feel like you can share this with me, you don’t have to either.”

“No- I- She. She/her. I- Feminine language too? Is that the word for that? I-” Remy pauses here. She tenses up, prepares for a fight. She doesn’t think Patton’s going to like what she has to say next, but she has to say it because it feels right. It feels so right, and she’s willing to defend it. “I’m keeping Remy. My name is still Remy.”

“Okay.”

Remy’s body relaxes, then tenses again. “Okay?”

“Of course Remy, whatever you’re feeling is valid. One hundred percent. I’m here to support you.”

“I- I just kept my name?”

“Well you can always change it later-” Patton admits. Remy winces. “Or you can keep it. It’s your name. All that matters is that you’re happy with it.”

“But-” Remy flounders. And it’s so stupid, Patton said it’s fine, why is Remy looking for a fight, “But?”

“Did you know my name is legally Patton Agnes Wilson?” Patton says abruptly.

Remy did not. She shakes her head slightly.

“Yeah I-” Patton continues, before stopping suddenly, “And I just pulled out my ID to show you. Putting that away now.”

Remy lets out a light laugh, and truly relaxes.

“Yeah. When my moms adopted me they gave me the first name Agnes, but I always went by my middle name- my deadname. My deadname hurt. A lot. So I chose Patton. But Agnes, Agnes meant something to me? And I didn’t want to lose that. So I made it my middle name, got rid of my deadname and made Patton my first,” Patton explains. He pauses once more, “Did I say that right?” 

He seems to be questioning himself more than Remy. He starts to mutter the sentence under his breath again, revising it.

“Yeah you said that right,” Remy confirms.

Patton laughs, and it sounds like bells.

“Okay. Good. But my point is- your name is your name, not anyone else's.”

“My mom named me Remy,” she admits, “I- my middle name is Alan. After my great-grandfather. That can go,” she insists, making a face.

“I can understand that,” Patton says wryly.

“Yeah.”

“Have you come out to anyone else yet?”

“No,” Remy sais, “No. No I don't think I was even out to myself. That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

Remy and Patton haven’t talked a lot. She knows that this conversation has to be painfully uncomfortable for Patton. After all, Remy did just show up at his house, live with him for a few months, leave for college, and then demand he share about being trans. Patton doesn’t even know her.

“I’m glad you did. I’m really glad I could help you with this.”

Patton’s such a good person. Remy’s so appreciative of that.

The door opens and seconds later there's excited skittering paws on the floor as Trixie races over to say hi to Cha-Cha. Cha-Cha perks up at the attention and they quickly begin to play with one another. Remy smiles at their energy and let’s them be.

“Remy?” Virgil asks, “Are you okay?”

She wants to say she’s fine, but maybe, well maybe she isn’t. She isn’t fine at all. She doesn’t know what to say.

(She thinks maybe she should tell Virgil she’s a girl. She did just figure it out, but it’s important. Virgil would understand. He would. But there’s something that tells Remy that she can’t. Not yet).

“I- I dunno? I’m upset,” she admits.

“About?”

“Kind of everything?”

“Do you want to talk?”

“I- me and Pat were talking a bit?”

Virgil pauses then stands.

“Okay. I’ll let you be then. But if you need to talk- I’m here okay? You have people supporting you.”

Remy nods, because she doesn’t think she can force words around the choked feeling in her chest.

Virgil leaves.

“I don’t want to tell Virgil yet,” Remy says immediately after he leaves, “Or Logan. Or Roman. Or anyone. I told you, just don’t tell anyone else yet, please.”

“That you’re trans?”

Remy’s trans. She’s trans. It feels so freeing even as it terrifies her.

“Yeah,” Remy confirms, “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“Okay, that’s fine. It’s yours to share.”

A pause sits between them.

“Can I write this down?” Patton asks for a moment, “I write down important stuff to remember in my phone so when I forget I have it all. I wanted to ask because while my boyfriends would never read my notes unless I told them it was okay, it’s obviously still going to be out there in some way. But I want to write it down because there’s a very high chance I will forget.”

“Yeah, that’s okay,” Remy agrees.

“Thank you,” Patton says. He presumably pulls out his phone to do exactly that. “It’s getting late and I have a class at nine tomorrow. Did you want to talk more or…?”

“No, no, you can go to bed,” Remy insists, “I’m good, yeah. I'm just going to go middle name searching now. Uh how the hell do I even go about that choosing a new name?”

“Baby websites. They were created for expecting parents, trans people, and authors.”

Remy rolls her eyes at the comment.

She then groans. Like yeah, she wants to find a better middle name than Alan. But she does not want to be searching through millions of names to find the right one. How do parents do this?

“That’s gonna be so many names. Have any suggestions?”

Patton hesitates.

“Yeah?” Remy asks

“I- well. If you want… Eileen was my deadname. But if you want you can use that?”

Patton’s words are casual but Remy can feel the weight behind them, the power. Remy is absolutely floored by the offer. 

“I… really?” she asks.

“I mean if you want. It’s an idea. There’s a lot of names out there.”

“But you would be okay with that?” Remy confirms, because she is honored but she doesn’t want to take something that will make Patton uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” he says, “I mean it’s not like I’m using it.”

“Remy Eileen Zurko,” she says, “Remy Eileen Zurko.” She smiles and knows she must look like an idiot.

“Yeah?” Patton asks.

“Yeah,” Remy chokes out, “Yeah I love it.”

They sit in silence for a moment.

“Okay, I’m headed to bed.” Patton says, “Uh, the bedroom you stayed in is still empty. Extra towels are under the sink… I think. If you want to shower or anything.”

Remy gives a nod and Patton gets up to leave. Before he can fully exit, Remy calls out once more.

“Patton?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

Remy’s not quite sure what she’s thanking Patton for in particular. Maybe the name. Maybe for the advice. Maybe for listening. Maybe for the entire conversation in general. Maybe just for being here.

But Remy is. Thankful that is. She’s so thankful.

“Of course. Really.”

Patton means it. Remy knows he does. It makes everything inside of her hurt.

When Patton really is gone, Remy gets up from the couch as well and makes it to the empty bedroom. She closes the door softly behind her and pulls out her phone, opening Kai’s contact. She has some apologizing to do.

-

“We’re going for a walk,” Logan announces, as he enters the doorway to the room Remy’s staying with. He blocks a fair amount of light, and Remy’s eyes struggle to adjust.

“Uh… I was actually about to leave. Maybe another time,” Remy bargains, because she was about to leave. Plus she thinks she might know where this conversation is going and she really doesn’t want to have it.

“Okay,” Logan says, and Remy thinks she’s won. “Then I’ll walk with you back to your dorm.” Nope, Remy’s trapped.

Remy doesn’t have any actual reason to refuse. So she accepts with a sigh and nods. She grabs her bag and heads for the door. At the door, she gets Cha-Cha in her harness and quickly steps outside, Logan trailing behind her.

The minute she steps outside she’s hit with blinding light and takes a step backward into Logan as she squeezes her eyes shut.

“Remy?” Logan asks.

She ignores him for a minute, fumbling through her bag for her familiar sunglasses. Which she of course doesn’t have. Because she came here when it was dark out last night with a rushed back of minimal school supplies. Of course.

“Logan, do you have any sunglasses I can borrow?” she asks.

“Yes,” he answers, “One moment.”

He’s gone the next seconds and Remy keeps her eyes shut and sits down on ground, lying her head in her arms as she hopes for it to stop pounding.

“Hey,” Logan says, rejoining her. He sits down next to her. “Here.”

Remy holds out her hand and Logan hands her a pair of sunglasses. She takes a minute, letting the shooting pain in her head relax a bit. After that, she lifts her head and slips the sunglasses on, slowly opening her eyes. 

“You okay?” Logan asks.

There’s still bright spots in her vision and her head hurts, but both are fading. Her eyes also struggle to adjust to the change in light, but that’s nothing new.

“Yeah,” Remy says. She waits another minute for the panging in her head to die to a dull ache. 

She then stands. “Dorm?”

“Okay,” Logan says, “Do you want me to guide or Cha-Cha?”

Remy answers by grabbing his upper arm right above his elbow. They start walking, Logan guiding.

Logan makes a clicking noise as they make their way to Remy’s dorm. Remy just zones out and starts to think about how she’s going to apologize to Kai and Elliot in person. She texted them both last night, but Remy still knows they both deserve in-person apologies. She shouldn't have snapped at them.

Eventually Logan stops the clicking noise and reaches up to pat at his chest instead. He hesitates for a brief moment and then begins to talk.

“I’m worried about you,” he begins.

Remy just waits. She doesn’t want to have this conversation. But maybe if she listens- or pretends to at least- maybe Logan will voice his concerns and let her go.

“You are of course welcome to stay with us whenever you want. That isn’t what this is about and I want to make that clear. You always have a place here, okay?”

“Okay,” Remy says.

“Virgil doesn’t want to talk to you about this,” Logan confesses, “He thinks we should give you space.”

That means Logan disagrees. Remy wishes he’d just follow in Virgil’s example. It’s easier that way.

“I’m also not going to ask about last night. I don’t know exactly what happened, but Patton expressed that it wasn’t- that it was different.”

“Different than what?” Remy can’t help but ask. She regrets it at once.

“Different than what I’m worried about. Or maybe part of it? Playing a role? But not the main idea.”

Remy stays quiet this time.

“You don’t seem happy,” Logan admits after a moment, “I thought things would maybe get better when you were away from your dad for a little bit. And in a sense I think you are doing better. But you aren’t doing… You still seem off. Not only unhappy, but… You seem detached? I’m not sure if that’s the right word, but it concerns me.”

“I’m fine.”

She isn’t. She knows she isn’t now, but for some reason she’s still unwilling to share that with Logan.

“You keep saying that but I don’t believe you.”

“You’re saying I’m lying?” Remy can’t help but challenge. It’s not fair of her, but she doesn't want to be having this conversation.

“No,” Logan says, “I’m not sure why you keep saying you’re fine. Maybe you think it yourself. Maybe I’m wrong. Or maybe you are lying. I don’t know. Regardless, I’m concerned about you.”

“Okay,” Remy says. She knows that’s not the answer that Logan’s looking for, and maybe that’s a bit mean, answering in a way she knows Logan doesn’t want, but this is also Remy’s business so Logan can budge off.

Logan sits with that answer for a minute.

“I don’t understand why you won’t talk to me,” Logan says eventually.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“I doubt that.”

“I talked to Patton.”

“Apparently not about the things I’m concerned about.”

Remy shrugs.

“I’m frustrated,” Logan says, “I don’t feel acknowledged in this conversation.”

“I’m sorry,” Remy replies, “That wasn’t my point. I get that you’re concerned about me. I hear that. I don’t agree with the concern, but I hear that you are.”

“Okay. Thank you. I want you to talk to me, but I don’t think you’re going to do that.”

“Yeah, I’m not,” Remy says.

Logan and her used to be so close. Why was that all crumbling apart?

“Okay,” Logan said, “That’s one of the many things that’s concerning me.”

Remy doesn’t reply.

“Remy, will you talk to someone?”

“I-”

“I mean, it doesn’t have to be me. It doesn’t have to be about the things I’m concerned about. I’m worried that you don’t have anyone you’re talking emotionally with in any scheme. Considering you’ve been through some deep emotional shocks lately, it concerns me that you seem to have no healthy outlets for talking about those things.”

“Uh huh.”

“Remy, I hope you talk to someone.”

For most of this conversation, Remy’s been numb. But there, for just a moment, she feels something.

“Okay. I’ll think about it.”

Remy’s not going to, but she knows that saying she might will make Logan happy. It’s a tradeoff, lying to get Logan off her back. She hates that she doesn’t.

“Alright,” Logan says, and stops, “We’re at the front entrance to your dorm. About thirty feet to the front door, straight ahead. I’m headed to class. Call, text, or visit anytime.”

“Okay.”

“Can I give you a hug?”

“No thanks.”

Remy doesn’t really feel up for it, and she knows Logan won’t be offended. She offers a handshake instead which is weird and doesn’t feel right for this conversation or their relationship, but Remy wants to provide something here. Logan accepts it. It’s awkward.

“Alright. Bye,” Logan says when their hands drop.

“Bye.”

Logan leaves, and Remy goes back to her dorm.

~~~

taglist below

-ask to be added or removed-

@mewithanie @eddies-spaghetti @lemonyellowlogic @savioursailor @goldteethandacurseforthistown @you-betcha-weirdo

[corvid-knight]

Demon Eyes - chapter 8

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13740258/chapters/31885545

The "something" that Jake was working on turns out to be a full-out tarot spread, you find as you follow Dirk into the kitchen, Karkat and John a few steps behind. Most of the kitchen table is covered in carefully-laid-out cards, an arrangement that's more complicated than any of the ones you know. Then again, the subset of tarot spreads that you know only includes one or two; Bro stopped trying to get you to learn when he figured out that your predictions lacked the weird clarity that Jake's have always had.

When you come in, Jake's perched on a stool that's too high for the table, a thoughtful look on his face as he examines the complicated patterns he's created. He only looks up when Dirk puts a hand on his shoulder, glancing between Karkat and you for a second before a grin spreads across his face.

"There we are." He slides off the stool, tapping the card at the center before stepping over to give you a quick, much-less-stressful half-hug. "You've certainly gone through the wringer, haven't you Davey? You and your demon both."

"He's not exactly my demon." Jake's still half a head shorter than you, you realize as he steps away to take one more look at his tarot spread. Nice—you're not totally surrounded by guys who're taller than you. "His name's Karkat, by the way. I'm shit at intros, sorry."

"You're absolutely fine, don't worry!" He aims that bright smile at Karkat, who looks completely disconcerted at the hand that Jake holds out. "Jake English, at your service."

You seriously wonder if Karkat's going to accept the handshake or if you're going to end up privately prompting him. After a second, though, the demon grins (no sharp teeth, thankfully) and shakes Jake's hand, letting go as quickly as he can while still being polite. "I really fucking hope you don't say that to just any demon you work with."

"Oh gods no, I'm not as much of an idiot as this one—" a shove at Dirk's shoulder than pushes him a step closer to John and makes you want to tense up at the prospect of upcoming violence— "would have you believe. That'd be John."

"I'll kick your ass, English," John immediately offers. He slips behind Dirk as he says it, but the grin on his face reminds you that the probability of actual fighting here and now is really fucking low. "C'mon, come and get me—"

"Don't you dare start a fight in the kitchen." Okay, that voice is new. It's a lot like Dirk's (and a little like Bro's) but it's from behind you, where there shouldn't fucking be anyone—

You don't register your own movements until Karkat steps up next to you and slides a hand under your arm, pulling you out of the defensive crouch you've already fallen into. Shit, you're running your hands across your waistband, too, looking for a fucking weapon. One that's not there, thank god.

You're okay, Dave. Anyone who'd hurt you goes through me, and that's a lot fucking harder than it looks.

Without his steady voice in your mind, you probably wouldn't be able to just straighten up again, take a deep breath, and glance over at Dirk like you do.

Dirk just looks irritated and resigned. "Hal," he says with a calm that's probably deceptive, "get off the fucking fridge."

"Hmm...no."

You look up.

The guy perched on top of the refrigerator looks kind of like Dirk. The facial structure is the same, but this guy's as pale as you are, other than red tracery that looks like tattooed circuit lines running from his temples down the sides of his face. His hair's white instead of warm gold, shorter and spiky, exactly how Dirk wore his a couple years ago, and his eyes are the same red you're used to seeing in the mirror.

Karkat tilts his head to one side, considering the guy on the fridge. "Okay, I'll bite. What the fuck are you?"

"Hal Strider." He shifts slightly, still grinning down at you. You don't think you've ever seen someone look so pleased with themself in your life. "I'd offer to trade information, but I already know that you're Karkat and you're a demon, and the one that has a certain family resemblance to Dirk and I would be Dave, right?"

You realize that that was kind of directed at you, and nod. "Uh...dude, I have no fucking clue who you are, okay?"

"It'd be amazing if you did." Hal shrugs and shifts his weight, just jumping off the top of the fridge and landing on his feet with all the weightless grace of a cat. Standing, he somehow manages to look more and less like Dirk at the same time. "I didn't exist last time you were around."

"Still don't really understand here." You have to look over at Dirk for help. Before he can do more than open his mouth, Karkat reaches out to poke Hal's shoulder experimentally, which Hal allows with the same faint smile that seems to be his resting expression.

"It's a golem," he announces.

"He's a shikigami," Dirk corrects with a sigh, rubbing at his forehead. "Sort of."

You have no fucking clue what a shiki-whatever is. Karkat, however, evidently does, because he immediately points out, "Shikigami don't have self-awareness or willpower, and this thing obviously does, so..."

"Pronouns would be nice instead of just 'this thing.' I'll answer to any of them, although I rather like the sound of 'he' and 'they.'" Hal smiles sweetly at Karkat, tapping one finger against the circuit-marks along the sides of his face. "Also, you're absolutely right; shikigami don't have free will. Not when they're created from inert material and a driving force, anyway. However. If you add a harddrive containing a sentient AI—that would be me—"

The look of confused horror spreading across Karkat's face is actually a little comical. "You can't fucking do that."

Dirk groans and shakes his head, rubbing his eyes with one hand. "Dude, you have no idea how much I wish that was an accurate statement sometimes."

"Anyway," Hal continues, just slightly louder, "if you add a sentient AI to the mix, as per said AI's instructions—"

"We all know you came up with forty percent of the plan, give it a rest already." Dirk's grumble and eye-roll suggest that they've been over this territory already.

"Dave doesn't know, so shut the hell up. You add the AI, as per said AI's instructions so you don't fuck it up like the incompetent meatbag you are, and a few steps later you have me." Hal spreads his hands in a gesture you recognize as an echo of one of Dirk's, smiling wider. "One superbeing."

"One freak of nature," Dirk corrects.

Jake laughs and shoves very gently at your cousin, wrapping an arm around him. "You love him."

"You might love him. I certainly don't."

"He doesn't exactly have to love me if he doesn't want to." Hal shrugs, eyes fixed on you with an unblinking intensity that's more than a little disconcerting. "Brothers fight, don't they? Unless it gets to be a little more than scuffling, you don't need to worry about us, English. And it won't get that far, now will it?"

"Not unless you do something especially asinine."

"Oh, I don't intend to." He's speaking to Dirk, isn't he? So why the fuck does he have to look at you like that?

Stop. I'm being fucking paranoid.

Except you look away from Hal and Dirk's watching you too. Jake's more focused on Dirk, but his eyes slide towards you when you glance at him, and away again as soon as he meets your eyes. Doesn't want to stare at me. Fuck. John's talking to Karkat, but there's a pair of excited blue eyes fixed on you too, flicking back to the demon every few seconds—of course John wouldn't care about staring, he was always honest about shit even when we were kids—so upon that further examination, everyone's looking at you, and that's...

That's not how shit's supposed to be. This isn't supposed to happen to me, you think, and hate the panicked edge the thought has.

Dirk's saying something and you have zero ability to focus enough to listen to it. Which is just as fucking wrong as you being the center of attention, you're supposed to fucking listen to him, fucking listen to Bro—

"Dave." And, maybe because he can tell you're a little past verbal responses, Karkat switches to words that go straight into your head, private and silent and weirdly safe. Dave, you know you're safe right now, right? That fucker's not here. It's Dirk, not your Bro.

Fuck. Yeah. You know that. Can't fucking think, man. And you make a deliberate effort to let him feel what you're overwhelmed by—like you're the only one worth looking at in a crowd, because you fucked up—

Karkat growls, loud and startled and deep, and Jake lets go of Dirk, and now everybody—other than Hal, who's still watching you thoughtfully—is staring at the demon. Which is just as fucking bad because they're hunters and you know what hunters do—

"Jesus fuck," Karkat growls, shaking his head. "John, right? And Jake? You both want to ask me shit, right?" When he gets a definite nod from the former and a slightly less emphatic one from the latter, he continues, "Open season on questions, as in I'll answer anything you come up with for the next—" Dave, how long?

Fifteen minutes. It's a number you pull out of nowhere, but it feels right, and Karkat slots it into his sentence without any discernable pause.

"—fifteen minutes, so long as you ask it in a different fucking room." He crosses his arms and scowls at John. "Fair enough?"

John's expression suggests that the deal is more than fair, but he just nods, grabbing Jake's wrist and all but dragging him into the other room after Karkat. The door shuts, and you're left with just Dirk and Hal.

Where the fuck is Hal?

"Calm down." Dirk sighs when he sees you glancing around, pulling out one of the kitchen chairs and sitting down. "He's on the fucking fridge again."

"Oh." The shikigami grins at you when you look up at him. When did he even get back up there? "Is it even worth it to ask you why?"

"It's an excellent vantage point." Hal shrugs.

"Try, 'I'm an asshole,'" Dirk suggests.

"Well, I can't argue with that, but we all know who I'm modeled on, don't we?"

"You guys are always like this, aren't you." You don't make it a question, and you don't look at either of them to see if they nod. If they're still staring at you, you don't fucking want to know. Instead, you sit on Jake's stool—which feels wrong; it's too tall and too isolated, too obvious—but you made the choice to sit on it and now you're stuck with that choice—and look over his tarot spread, mentally naming the cards you recognize as a way of calming down a little.

This spread is a mess, really. He's using the major arcana and (you think) the four royalty cards from each suit, but you don't see numbered cards from anysuit. Despite that, you're pretty sure there's more than thirty cards on the table, and you see the Tower at least twice. Which means more than one deck.

What the hell.

Of the layout itself, you can tell that it's centered on three cards: Knight of Swords and Knight of Cups side by side, with the Lovers card laid over and half-obscuring both of them. Beyond that, you don't know enough about the order or layout to read, but those three cards make a hell of a lot of sense to you.

"Jake's been drawing those two when he tries to read for you, the past few days." Dirk leans over to tap first Cups, then Swords. "You, and Karkat."

That feels backwards, but going by the meanings of the cards it really isn't. "So he's been reading for me."

"I asked him to, yes." When you glance up at him you meet honey-orange eyes that're too fucking familiar for you to not wince. "Why, do you count that as spying?"

"Depends on what you learned from it." You don't count it as spying, not really, but you need to know what Dirk already knows so you don't reveal more than you have to.

What the hell am I even thinking? I don't have to hide shit, there's no consequences if he finds out things Bro didn't want known... Well, other than your discomfort, maybe. Not that that matters.

Dirk sits back, watching you. "Jake didn't finish telling me about this one, obviously. But when he went over your past he got abuse, willpower put to bad use, increasing domination—"

You know which cards he's talking about. Out of the corner of your eye, you can almost see them light up out of the spread on the table. "Strength and the Magician, both reversed. The Emperor." It makes you shiver. You know exactly what Jake read as the sum your past—or, more accurately, who. "Bro."

"I didn't know you knew the meanings so well."

"Yeah. Can't get an accurate read on anything, but I know the cards."

"Ah. The Moon came up in most of the spreads—"

"Deception." There's other meanings, but that's the one you fix on. It's hard to keep your hands from folding into fists again. "He was a fucking liar, so that's accurate."

Dirk tilts his head and you think of Karkat. Stupid. "You're angry at him."

More than you're ever going to know. "He's dead. So no, I'm not."

"...fair enough, I guess. I might be pissed enough for both of us."

He keeps his tone calm, and you still want to flinch at the words. You don't do that, but you do look down at the cards instead of at Dirk. "Not really a reason for that."

"Bullshit there isn't." The twist of emphasis he puts in that is savage enough that you look up at him, hoping he doesn't see the unpleasant jolt of fear he just sent through you. There's no anger on his face, at least. "I knew him. I hunted with him—not alone, D never let Bro take me out unless he was coming along, thank god—but I knew how he was, we all did."

"Yeah, no. You didn't." He was worse, trust me. The cards are interesting, maybe if you look at the layout just a little longer you can figure out how it works, and if you look at it you don't have to look at Dirk...

"Dave," he says quietly, and when you still don't look up at him he keeps talking. "You know why we didn't cut him off after he killed that girl?"

"She was a fucking were. She killed—"

"It wasn't about her. Him killing her was fucked up, both how he did it and that he did it at all—she was a kid, she killed a couple fucking horses in her first change and we should've paid for the damages and gotten her settled with a pack, not let him get his hands on her and torture her to death."

Shit. "He told me she killed someone. Not some fucking horses..."

"Lying bastard."

"Yeah." The fact that you just believed him is worse.

"You know why we didn't cut him off?"

"No."

"D wanted you back." When you look up in surprise, Dirk nods. "Yeah. The whole reason he never ran Bro down and made him answer for that shit was because they made a deal—that bastard got to leave, go wherever the fuck he wanted, so long as he left you with us. Except when I finally got ahold of him after that last fight, he said you took the money he'd had on hand and took off. He said he didn't know where you went."

"I—" You almost did that, but not until a full year after when Dirk's talking about. The first time you woke up with Bro in bed with you, with your head fuzzy from the alcohol he'd bullied you into drinking the night before and your shoulder aching where his teeth had drawn blood, feeling more disgusting than you ever had in your life, you almost left him. Almost. But in the end? "I'd never. I couldn't."

"Yeah. I was an idiot to believe him, I know. I'm sorry, Dave—"

"Don't!" Fuck. That was louder than you should've let it be, and you can sense rather than see Hal shift slightly on top of the fridge—getting ready to attack you if he has to, to protect Dirk? You don't know. "Don't apologize for that shit, don't fucking do it, it doesn't help, it makes things worse—"

You look at him again and you can't fucking see him clearly—no, tears, not that, I can't fucking cry, I can't, I—

Karkat, please—

Something shifts. Something twists. Something in the center of your mind changes, and it's been changing for a while, hasn't it? Since the first time you felt the tingle of wards as you passed through them, before everything started. But this time you feel it adjust itself to what you need, just a little more, and it's terrifying to feel that but it's so, so relieving, because you feel him. You feel Karkat, and when you blink your eyes are clear again.

Unfortunately, it's John that you're looking at. Not Dirk. Holy shit, you try to say, but instead of that you feel your mouth shape the words, "Dave, what—" and it's his deeper voice that you feel in your throat.

No. His throat.

Too much, you think, or maybe he thinks it, but it's true either way. Too fucking much, go back, make it stop—

You're not sure whether it's you or Karkat who triggers the flip back. It doesn't really matter. You blink again and you're staring at the kitchen tile, which is a hell of a lot closer than before because you're on your hands and knees on the floor. The stool's overturned, knocked halfway across the room, and Dirk's kneeling next to you with one hand on your shoulder.

"Dave?" he asks, then, more hesitantly, "...Karkat?"

"Right the first time." Sitting up is hard, but you instinctively push Dirk away when he tries to support you. "Don't—don't touch me. For a sec. I need—" Karkat.

"Your eyes—"

"What?" Because you need Dirk to see that you're you, your eyes aren't the changing red of the demon's, you force yourself to look at him. Just for a second. Long enough to catalogue the confused concern on his face. Then you just close your eyes, cut off sensory input from that quarter.

"Did he possess you?"

"No! I—" I'm so fucked. Hunters don't do this shit. I'm a hunter, I can't do—whatever that was. "I. I possessed him? Dirk, I don't know—"

You bite down on your lip, hard enough to taste blood, before that last word can turn into the panicked wail it really wants to be.

"Dave, it's okay—" Dirk begins, and abruptly stops as the door slams open again. "Karkat, what the hell—"

"Don't you fucking block me from him," Karkat snarls, and you think you cringe.

Please don't hurt him, don't fucking hurt him, please—

"No one's getting hurt, Dave. I swear to you." Dirk's hand leaves your shoulder, and Karkat's replace it, one resting on each shoulder and giving you a comforting sensation of presence, for a moment, before he moves them up to press against your temples. "Open your eyes."

"No—"

"Just for a second, okay? You just did something that should be really fucking difficult for a human, I need to make sure you're okay. Just a second and then you can do whatever you want." Karkat's voice is gentle and coaxing again, nothing like how he snarled at Dirk a moment ago. It's all right, Dave, I swear. Just look at me.

I'll cry, you warn him.

"Yeah. I know. That's okay."

You open your eyes. Thankfully—and somewhat surprisingly—your vision's only a little blurry; you can see Karkat's face fine. Dirk's sitting just being him, arms crossed and expression purposefully blank and unreadable.

"I'm okay," you say to both of them. That's not even kind of true.

"Shush." Karkat's thumb strokes across your cheek. It's a stupidly reassuring sensation. "You can close your eyes if you need to now. Nothing's fucked up structurally..."

You shut your eyes immediately when he says that, trying not to shake as you start thinking about how this looks. I did something. Something magic, the kind hunters don't use. With a demon. I'm so fucking screwed, this isn't—

"Dave. Dave, shush. Come here." His hands leave your face and you nearly panic enough to open your eyes. Then he slips an arm around your shoulders, pulls gently enough that you could definitely get away if you wanted.

Instead, you lean into him. We're fucked.

"We're not fucked. Dirk, tell him."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to be telling him," Dirk protests.

There's a very soft noise that you can't quite identity from behind you, and someone else's hand brushes against your hair. "Want me to do the talking, brother dearest?" Hal asks calmly. "I actually have some kind of handle on the situation here, which you don't."

"If you upset him more I'm kicking your ass."

"Fair enough. Dave?"

Words. Gotta have words. "Yeah."

"The talented are welcome here. Do you understand that? I can't tell what sort you are, but I can see the empath link between you and Karkat, and I'm assuming there's more—"

"No."

"Ah. There might be later, or maybe not. But that's an asset, do you understand?"

"It's not a fucking hunter thing—"

"Dirk's something between an artificer and a technomancer. Jake's a diviner, possibly one of the best alive. Rose—you remember Rose, don't you?—she's a witch, engaged to a vampire." Hal's hand rests against your shoulder again and just as quickly withdraws. "And you already heard what I am."

"We're not like him." This from Dirk again; when you cautiously open your eyes, he's sitting back on his heels in front of you. "Maybe he told you hunters were fucking bigots, but that's not fucking true."

"...yeah." Karkat?

"Yes?"

Tell 'em I believe them. Can't talk. Mostly because you really are crying now.

"You don't have to, don't worry."

He starts relaying not what you thought at him, but what you mean, and you relax against him, close your eyes again, and really start to calm down.

[caepaecaesurae]

> Cae + RL : Talk about Anons

(( First the “tell the truth” anon and RL’s problems with Nadaya, and then a delightful mid-sentence segue into kidnapping alt!Sugary ))

Yesterday

caepaecaesurae Is your anon ovwer yet? carnivalsorphans finally :o( caepaecaesurae For wvhat it's wvorth, I gavwe him permission to inform you himself, because I think it wvill get the last vwestiges of upset out of his system, but he's agreed not to do anything. And you are publicly, openly forgivwen. Don't let anyone harsh you about this one anymore. carnivalsorphans thanks. that's an awkward thing to need for my mental health

caepaecaesurae Sorry I didn't out this one before nowv, to try and clear it up. caepaecaesurae It seemed safer to leavwe it buried. carnivalsorphans yeah :o( i assumed you were keepin it for blackmail, not gonna lie to keep me in line, just in case caepaecaesurae .. Not unless you started tormenting people, honestly. carnivalsorphans which, ya know, fair i've tormented very few people. none you care about! caepaecaesurae I'm not as absentminded as sugary, but I'm absentminded enough that I used to keep journals so I wvouldn't miss things. carnivalsorphans hahaha i'm pretty absentminded when my paranoia gives me peace caepaecaesurae Perhaps that's the only difference betwveen us. I'm a fewv steps closer to peace. carnivalsorphans there's probably plenty of other differences. caepaecaesurae Hair color carnivalsorphans hahahahaha yeah. everyone knows i regularly think about even my own moirail's torture now so like...... caepaecaesurae WVell... As long as it stays in the imagination. carnivalsorphans .... i dunno. it ain't just you. in case you were ever wondering. caepaecaesurae That does sooth a bit. I'vwe... met trolls wvhere it WVas just me. carnivalsorphans you're like. higher on the list than some people. but you're higher on the 'keep safe' list than most people too so it all balances out. caepaecaesurae I wvish you the best of luck on the reputation war And in fighting the inner demons that you seem to have mostly in check. carnivalsorphans i don't really care about my rep if i don't die, at this point. no higher authority to report my terrible nature to. no overarching consequence that will ruin everything centuries of work has tried to bring about. we won. so i just worry bout the one thing. caepaecaesurae Life is easier wvith a better reputation, but you'vwe a point. I still wvish you luck. carnivalsorphans he seems less mad. caepaecaesurae I let him read it.  The prodding really is vwery subtle on a re-read, wvithout the emotions of the moment avwailable to peruse. carnivalsorphans yeah cuz i'm good at stuff if i was better at faking i probably coulda gotten away with it. luckily for us all, psii is so stupid i never had to get that much better. caepaecaesurae WVe all must havwe our skills. carnivalsorphans anyway, new sugary. wanna collab on figuring out if she's evil or not caepaecaesurae You possibly could havwe.  If you'd succeeded, I wvould havwe wvithdrawvn from your rebellion efforts and likely not been on healing duty that night. But yes, I'd lovwe to collaborate on that. I'm puzzled, she's too put together. carnivalsorphans i asked her for a question off. she said it sounded perfectly fair. which...... doesn't sound like her somehow. carnivalsorphans it either sounds like she's actually worried about stuff bein fair or is halfway decent at seemin good when she ain't. and i'm not sure which... carnivalsorphans > Ringleader, too, is not good at pronouns. carnivalsorphans ... yeah i'm gonna go with the latter. i asked her about her quads. and she shot back with what quads i have filled and who they are. i dunno why, but that just seems like her lookin for someone to target caepaecaesurae Same, don't like howv she puts things. Sugary entrusted me wvith a wvay to entrap her direct alternates if they should provwe problematic, and I'm debating using it. carnivalsorphans i know about that, she told me to hunt you down if you ever misused it. this seems like a fair use though, if it ends up bein necessary. caepaecaesurae Pff.  Nice to knowv she has a solid set of countermeasures. carnivalsorphans ... she calculates. that's what it is. caepaecaesurae Aye, it is. carnivalsorphans she said she's assessing everything. caepaecaesurae And she cares only for the vwalue of things in material terms to her. carnivalsorphans yeah. which... not that far off from what sugary used to do, but for her it was decadence. for this one it's... tools. caepaecaesurae If I do attempt to enrap her, it's likely to be under the guise of an invwitation to dinner. Or a newv dwvelling or something else easily fabricated. carnivalsorphans if you need a place that ain't prosperity... hahahaha holy shit we got another cell around here. caepaecaesurae I'm afraid the entrapment area is already constructed, in a third party univwerse.  Arlequin and I bought Chickens there once. carnivalsorphans aww! that's cute caepaecaesurae Is there? carnivalsorphans yeah. next to enforcer's. caepaecaesurae I wvould be somewvhat concerned if the cell wvas rated to contain her It wvould imply someone other than herself and I knewv the wvay to do that. carnivalsorphans ... she didn't tell me bout specifics of her containment needs, just that you knew em. caepaecaesurae Aye, she's being careful. Can you ask the cell maker if they are rated for her? carnivalsorphans yeah. yeah i'll ask tarrat. carnivalsorphans oh shit looks like she's not much for dinner caepaecaesurae I may havwe to try less subtle methods of luring or abduction, it wvill be fine. carnivalsorphans how does 'i would love to please sugary when she gets back please turn me into a trickster' sound as a method of luring carnivalsorphans from me, of course caepaecaesurae I'm considering teleporting to her, grabbing her, and teleporting her to the other place, I'm just not sure if I'm faster on the drawv than she is. I can teleport out, she can't. carnivalsorphans mmmm you should be careful as shit. caepaecaesurae Aye carnivalsorphans i'm still wantin to do a 'lure' sorta thing, i don't mind bein bait. caepaecaesurae I'll need to disguise the place wve lure her into.  She wvon't be able to tell it's a trap until it closes. Literally closes. carnivalsorphans 's important. caepaecaesurae I can disguise my cell as any kind of room or hivwe you like. carnivalsorphans still workin on establishin trust enough. i'm not sure how viable it is, if you can figure somethin safer i'm totally fuckin good with it caepaecaesurae Tell me howv to disguise it, I'll need time. carnivalsorphans uhhhhhhhhhh fuck. probably a sitting room is as good as anythin, until i know more real colorful, somethin between church and trickster. carnivalsorphans oh! tarrat says the cell's sugar proof carnivalsorphans and also around enforcer so neither of them'd have to be bored. win win hahahahaha. caepaecaesurae Time players... carnivalsorphans ;o) ;o) ;o) caepaecaesurae Fair enough.  I could disguise that cell into a sitting room, put a transport pad in it, and take it out wvith me. caepaecaesurae I'll.. coordinate wvith him about that. carnivalsorphans or, vel/tarrat can put a transport pad in and destroy it on the way out. .... honestly. ...... should probably ask wicked if more people is rude to him caepaecaesurae I suspect time is not long, before she starts being antisocial. WVe should consider haste. carnivalsorphans i'm askin bout the staff caepaecaesurae To be entirely honest, I'm not sure I can conceivwe of myself as a trickster, wvhich might make me immune. carnivalsorphans hahahahahahahaha caepaecaesurae I'm not terribly wvorried about it.  I havwe quadrants to sit on me if anything goes awvry. carnivalsorphans good. ... i'm. a little more worried about it. i promised sugary i wouldn't do what valor did, and this is skirtin that line pretty damn close caepaecaesurae WVhat did he do? carnivalsorphans oh gods, did you not catch that? caepaecaesurae Oh, wvait.  Tossing yourself into the line of fire? carnivalsorphans yeah! that shit. caepaecaesurae No, I caught the edge, it's just been a bit. carnivalsorphans the shit that probably prompted her to give you a safety measure caepaecaesurae Aye, it wvas around then. caepaecaesurae All the more reason to get this done soon, before he hears about it. And havwe her somewvhere he can vwisit and pawv at the glass. carnivalsorphans gods i fuckin know right caepaecaesurae ...Gods, Enforcer and Valor do not need to meet. carnivalsorphans hahahahahahahahah are you sure another highblood who's also a vantas might be good for him ;o) caepaecaesurae I havwe a headache already. carnivalsorphans good thing you don't gotta deal with it too much.... caepaecaesurae I'll try to keep complaining to a minimum.  Anywvays, I'm wvith Tarrat and wve're wvorking on things. caepaecaesurae He's telling me howv to set up the block, you focus on your part. carnivalsorphans ... you agree that she's best contained, considerin the potential she's got? caepaecaesurae I havwe a bad feeling, and I trust my gut. She *could* be fine -- but her immediate response to a request to behavwe, wvith bribery, wvas "Mmmm no" carnivalsorphans i'm just about to the point of bein ready. caepaecaesurae If wve contain her successfully, it harms little except her vwacation. carnivalsorphans iiii might wind up trickster, please fix it if i do. .... we got an escape method planned to be quick and easy for me caepaecaesurae If that happens, I'll showv up to take you to the Other cell, wvhere I wvill fix you. carnivalsorphans hot. caepaecaesurae There's going to be a transport pad in the room.  It wvill disable the moment she is alone in that room.  It doesn't need coordinates typed in. carnivalsorphans oh hot you're a damn gem carnivalsorphans trap set, time to be bait send me coords for the cell caepaecaesurae > coords Thank you for your part in this vwenture, chief. carnivalsorphans you bet! sugary can hit me for this later caepaecaesurae To be honest I think she'll kiss you. carnivalsorphans gay caepaecaesurae Hey, just a guess carnivalsorphans we'll see. i sent her the coords, i'm all settled and ready to be a loving matesprit for long enough for her to chill in case she's suspicious nice decorating caepaecaesurae I'm about fivwe feet awvay, armed and armored, and out of line of sight. To your left from the chair. Fivwe feet from the edge of the wvall, excuse me. Other side of it. carnivalsorphans hot

[ryeimagines]

Acceptance - Stiles imagine

Based on this prompt. Note, I’m not a non-binary person myself, so I apologise if there’s something that isn’t quite right, please feel free to correct any inaccuracy you find. b/n = Birth name o/p original pronoun, i.e. before they started to identify as non-binary and using they and them pronouns. I enjoyed writing this, hopefully you enjoy it. 

You didn't expect for there to be a parade or something when you came out, maybe some cake and balloons and a paintball fight. That would've been epic. Or even just an okay, and everyone moving on with their day, nothing different. Except it was, or rather you had changed, the way you understood yourself and finally made sense of the feelings you'd had for a while. About a lot of things. You decided to tell your best friend first, and that totally backfired on you. By the end of the week everyone knew and you were the new butt of their jokes. The jokes you could handle, losing your friends were harder. You realized they hadn't been much of friends anyhow so it didn't hurt as much as you thought it would when you knew you were on your own. The constant bullying however, the graffiti on your locker and in the bathrooms, nasty anonymous comments online because the cowards they are. Not a single person stood up for you, not even the teachers, who continued to call you by your birth name and using your old pronouns. They didn't give a single fuck.

You almost cried with relief when you were transferred to Beacon Hills High. This was a chance for a fresh start, no one knew you here, there was no history you could be who you wanted. You kept telling yourself that it would be fine. And it started out okay, you met a really nice guy with doe eyes and moles all over who showed you around and babbled on about everything and anything, sometimes going off on a bit of a tangent before catching himself and asking questions here and there. What the hell is a Stiles? Was the first thing you said when he introduced himself again at the end of the tour, giving you a number if you had any more questions, coaxing a genuine laugh from the boy. “You're going to fit in just fine. This is your stop. Good luck.” It was awkward as always the first day of school, you were the lone outsider and you could feel everyone's eyes on you as you hurried  your way through one introduction after another. The only one who didn't make you introduce yourself was Coach Finstock, just gesturing for you to sit down, which you gladly did.

It lasted  until last period, Mr Harris that asshole, read your birth name out loud to the class, you promptly froze in your seat next to a friendly looking guy you had another class name, Danny maybe?

“It's Y/n. It should be on the list.”You managed, gripping on to the desk so tightly your knuckles were turning white. It was over, your secret was out. You just about made it through class, rushing out the door to get to your locker hurrying to get out of there. You weren't quick enough. A body came up beside you, the locker suddenly slamming shut in front of your face and you startled to see one of the jocks looking at you expectingly.

“Hey, b/n. You don't seem to bad, maybe a little bit of a make over,  you could be attractive. Maybe even date a lacrosse player.”

“You-” You were so mad, you couldn't form sentences right now. You'd had it with these ignorant jerks who think they know better, like that would be a compliment right there.

“Hey Jackass, shut up.” A voice spoke up, stepping in between the two of you, the plaid shirt seemed familiar. Right, it was the guy from before. Stiles.

“I'm just talking to o/p. It's a free country Stilinski. Mind your own business.”

“They have a name. It's Y/n. Even an ignorant asshole like yourself could wrap your hand around remembering something so simple as a name, right? It's a combination of sounds you make to refer to someone or get their attention.”

“Oh, that does it.” The next thing you knew, Stiles was on the floor getting himself a beatdown, people cheering in the background. You felt sick to your stomach, but you couldn't bring yourself to move, or even look away. This was all your fault.

“Hey, what the hell is going on here?” Coach Finstock broke through the crowd of spectators who had gathered to watch the interaction, pausing briefly to take in the scene of Stiles' bloody nose and the jerk currently pinning him to the ground dealing out punches. The two of them hadn't noticed his arrival, not breaking apart until two guys wearing lacrosse shirts showed up and lifted him off, if you didn't know better you'd sworn they practically threw him off, judging by their interaction they were friends of Stiles, the shorter one sending a concerned look your way. The light was probably just playing a trick on you, it had been a long first day. Week. Month. Year. You were tired, drained really. A show like this was the last thing you wanted, drawing more attention towards yourself.

“Alright principal's office now, both of you.” Stiles threw you an assuring smile over his shoulder as he was being led of. Jackson didn't even look back at you and you were thankful for that. The bell rang and the crowd was disbanded, the hallway empty once again and you finally breathed out, not realizing you'd been holding your breath the entire time. You were confused, not sure why this person, a stranger practically, would stick up for you like that like not even the people you thought were your closest friends would. You had barely had a conversation with the guy and he showed you more respect and decency than most people you knew. But why, that was a question you couldn't shake. You held on as long as you could, finally blurting it out the next day in the middle of the cafeteria, stopping all conversation when you walked up and continued without waiting for any kind of invitation.

“Why did you do that? I don't need you to defend me, I can handle myself.”

“I never doubted that. It was more for myself than anything. And because he was a jackass who needed to be brought down a notch. It was a long time coming, you just happened to be the last straw.” He shrugged, taking another bite of his pasta like it was no big deal. You weren't sure how to respond to that. You were used to condescending people, always asking for something in return. No one was ever just nice. Except for him, apparently. Maybe things would be different here after all.

“Stiles, aren't you going to invite them to join us?” A girl with light hair spoke up, directing a sweet smile your way. “I'm sorry about him, we're still working on his manners. Join us. I want to know everything about you.” You had a feeling you just walked into the lion's den, the theory confirmed when your gaze locked with Stiles' amber pools.

It was strange, and a bit overwhelming, but for the first time you didn't hate lunch period. It was an interesting mixture of people, so different you couldn't quite see how they got to be friends in the first place because they were so different. You realized you were enjoying yourself, getting to know them all and observing the way they interacted with each other. It was more than just friends, they acted like a family. It was equally beautiful and heartbreaking to see. A reminder of what you didn't have.

“Hey, you okay?” Stiles’ shoulder bumped against yours, you didn't realise he'd been paying attention to you. You willed yourself to meet his gaze, feeling a little uncomfortable at the intensity of it.

“Yeah, it's nothing.” You mumbled, the lie falling off your tongue easily. He and Scott exchanged a meaningful gaze, it was as if he knew what you were thinking. But that was crazy. You were a damned good liar, you'd had plenty of practice perfecting the craft. Thankfully, he dropped it.

“Anyway, I have a truly important question for you, you must answer it correctly or we can no longer be friends.” He paused for dramatic effect, taking a sip from his juice box. “Marvel or DC?”

“Marvel, of course.” Duh.

“Good answer, finally someone else who understands what I'm taking about. Scott doesn't think there's a difference.”

“Was he raised by wolves or something?” You blurted before you could stop yourself. Beside you Stiles bursted out in laughter, racking throughout his entire body.

“Oh my god.” He breathed, finally collecting himself, ignoring a glare from Lydia.

“Okay.” You continued, oblivious to what was going on. It's possible your new friends were all crazy.

He took a second to absorb this new information, before turning to the curly haired boy, a serious expression on his face.

“Scotty, I'm sorry dude but Y/n is replacing you as my best friend effective immediately.” He ignored the low whine coming from the boy in question, it was almost animalistic, fixing you with a grin you couldn't help but to return.

Things were starting to look up for you. Finally.

[traumabrained]

Tw for abuse So my parents abuse me, mostly physical from my mother, mostly verbal from my father. I've always coped with the abuse by acting calm and taking it, hiding, or attempting to descalate it and hoping I don't piss them off further. But recently I've started to act out with anger. Not just with them, with my little sister who yells as much as my father, and with animals. Not the ones I own, though. I'm afraid. What's happening to me? I shouldn't be angry. Being angry gets you killed.

while its certainly frightening, its also (as far as i can tell, with my own experiences and the experiences of others i’ve talked to) a normal response. essentially, either your brain thinks it’s safer and is deciding to start processing trauma (which doesn’t seem likely), or else you and your brain are both fed up. there’s really always a limit to how much someone can take, and it looks like you’ve reached that limit. since that can get you in trouble and also cause collateral damage (to the animals, or to your little sister, though “collateral damage” doesnt include self defense), i’m going to give you a few tips that might help you deal with the anger in a way that won’t make your parents abuse even worse.

 (please note that since i dont know your exact situation, some or all of these might not be feasible; if that’s the case, you can message me again with more details if you want? and i’ll look for some different things)

exercise: i know this sounds like everyone’s irritating neurotypical relative but i promise you that if you can do it, it will help. exercise:

  decreases stress and anger

 helps you feel in control (even if you’re not. but it gives you hope, which is very valuable in abusive situations, right?) and 

prepares you for physical attacks, if they get so bad that your options are fight back, run, or die.

im going to assume that you don’t have equipment that you can use, but if you do, use it. if not:

running--can be done anywhere, and it costs no money. if you think you will need to hide it from your parents, then go out very early in the morning, if possible (or late at night, but the morning is usually a lot safer, and no-one will be paying attention to you. literally anyone you pass will be pre-ocupied with going to work or school, and they will usually be too tired to even look up from their coffee). also try to use a specific pair of clothes--t-shirt, shorts if you have them, one sports bra if you use those, to minimize the amount of sweaty clothes you’ll be putting in the wash. during exercise is a good time to maybe think about your abusers--let yourself get mad. let yourself get pissed, if you can, and use the anger to run even harder. i did this a lot when i still lived with my parents, and it probably saved my life.

weights--you can often buy them pretty cheap on amazon or in a store, but if your parents are monitoring your purchases then you can use gallon jugs of water/milk (if they dont buy galons of water/milk then u can buy 1 gallon of water for around 1USD in most stores, which would be easier to hide and explain than any purchase of exercise equipment). fill the gallons with water, and lift them--you can google “dumbbell exercises” for some exercise routines. do this in the early morning if possible.

push-ups/sit-ups--these are probably the least satisfying to do, at least for me? but also the easiest if you aren’t able to get outside early morning, or if you’re absolutely not going to be able to buy any kind of weights. if you can’t do a full push-up, try working up to it by putting your weight on your knees, instead of your toes.

i recommend that you look into proper technique before you do any of these--im just trying to give you ideas.

if exercise isn’t feasible for any reason, then art is the next way to go. a lot of trauma survivors (especially child abuse survivors) write poetry. visual art is also a good outlet but i’ve found that it’s usually a bit less cathartic. if your parents go through your things regularly, then either make a new tumblr account and tell nobody about it, and write your stuff there, or (if tumblr isnt safe) write only on single sheets of printer/notebook paper and burn or shred them immediately after you’re done. 

if you think you’re not a good enough writer to do this, then listen: you’re not writing this for it to be good. you’re not. it doesn’t matter at all. no-one else will ever read it. you don’t even have to read it again. it doesnt have to look or sound good. the only objective is to process your trauma and anger. the plus side is that no matter what, you will improve your writing by doing this, so if you are interested in being a poet, or already are, then writing trauma poetry will only help you. i recommend poetry instead of prose (prose is anything that isn’t poetry) because you don’t have to worry about structure, or about it making sense/having a plot. it can be really hard at first, especially if you don’t usually write a lot. if you need to, you can try using these prompts (they probably arent all applicable but if you can finish any of these sentences in your head, then you can write a poem about it) (possible trigger warning, skip the bullet points if you need to)(i’m just going to use “they” because any gender of person could do this and i don’t want to make assumptions but you can swap out the pronouns if necessary)

they wouldn’t stop ...

i don’t feel safe ...

they hit me when ...

i feel like i stopped existing at [age]...

i don’t want to be here ...

when you are writing, let yourself get mad, if possible. nothing you write will have any consequences if you burn the page, right? nothing is out of bounds. write anything and everything. write about how they’ll burn in hell. about how you hope they get murdered gruesomely. about how you’ll rip them into pieces the next time they touch you. anything. if you can’t summon anger, that’s okay. you can also write about how you feel like you’re rotting. you can write about how you miss when they were good to you. or how they were never good to you, but you miss it anyway. about how when you get out, you’ll have a nice apartment with someone you love (platonically or romantically, it doesnt matter), and maybe a pet, and how you’ll go to the bakery down the street sometimes and get croissants and sit in the sun and how it will be okay. how you’ll never have to see them again. how safe you’ll be. how happy you’ll be.

any of that will be cathartic, i promise you. i started writing poetry at the age of 12, and all of it was about my abuse. it was bad--i went back and read it a few months ago, and i’ve improved a hell of a lot since then. i’ve worked through a lot of my trauma, partially with a therapist, but mostly with my writing. it’s easier than therapy for me, because no-one else can see me while i do it. it’s easier to break down every part of the abuse, to analyze it. and after writing a poem, i always feel drained, like i just lanced an infection or something. i dont know. but writing works. i promise.

therapy is the last thing thing on my list here because its very inaccessable to a lot of people. minors, anyone without insurance, or anyone in a rural area is going to have a hell of a time getting therapy, you know? so that’s why its last. if you have a good therapist, it’ll probably be the most helpful of all of these, but even that is a hit and miss (i’ve seen at least a dozen therapists, psychiatrists, psychologists, and mixtures of both, and i always seem to get the people who don’t believe me, who think that yelling at me will fix problems, who report everything to my parents. but not everyone’s like that--i just have some incredibly shit luck).

if you can get a therapist, do. they can help immensely. if you can’t, then try the other things until you can get to a position where therapy is accessable for you.

i hope this helped, im sorry its so long? and im sorry it took like a week gah