#I used to work at a consultancy and honestly even there there was a chance of being staffed on the managed services team

[quietlyfail]

I think one of the truly exhausting things about writing software is that you don't get to be done. Even if you finish a feature it can impact the next thing you build or the thing after that or leadership will want it different or a new goal is added. The only way to escape is to move to a different job, where you will never be done on something different.

[temporarywelcome]

hii

i absolutely love the spencer reid smooth criminal fic you wrote 💝

kinda sad no hotch mention 😩

could you please write more for spencer reid x kelopto!reader? like they need her to discreetly get something from an unsub for them and more shenanigans take place?

THANK YOUUU

( and sorry if this isn't coherent!!!)

hey bae here it is! Sorry it took so long, I had to flee from a hurricane... Didn't mention Hotch much in the first fic bc honestly i didnt think hed gaf like everyone else did lol. Anyway, here it is:

Special Consult - Spencer Reid

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: The BAU has a tricky case, though the clock is ticking, only a matter of time till the unsub strikes again. And so they bring in some help: Spencer's girlfriend, the one person who can break into a millionaire serial killer's home undetected.

Warnings: some swearing, very brief violence

A/N: can be read as standalone but is technically part of my "Smooth Criminal" series.

____________

This unsub was slick.

An unsub in Virginia. Convenient enough for the BAU, only a few hours away. 

This unsub had tortured and killed four girls, recording the events and sending tapes to the families of the victims. 

According to the profile the BAU created, the unsub was way too sophisticated for these to be his first kills. 

And it led the team to a man named Richard Smith. Thirty seven years old, with a wife and two kids. 

The BAU knew he probably had more tapes, prior victims’ pain and suffering locked away somewhere. So the team came in with a warrant, turning his home upside down in search of not just tapes, but any piece of evidence that could be used against him.

They came up with nothing.

According to Garcia, that house was the only property under his name. 

So were they wrong? Did they suspect the wrong guy? The BAU reevaluated the profile, coming out stumped.

It was him. It had to be him.

So how did they prove it? Did they have to catch him in the act of slaughtering another innocent woman to actually catch him? 

“He should have the other trophies,” Morgan muttered, staring at the information on the whiteboard intently, “What are we missing?”

“Where else could he be hiding them?” Hotch asked, more to himself than the rest of the team, “There's no wooded area in a thirty-mile radius. A family member? Friend?”

“That doesn't fit the profile. He's incredibly secretive with his work, he would want it close to him, but hidden away,” said Reid. 

“Garcia's on the line,” Prentiss gestured to the open laptop, Penelope’s face filling the screen. The team stopped conversing, bringing their attention to her.

“Hey, my loves, just got some juicy, juicy information on Mr. Richard Smith,” she began, “He had this home built in 2009, and I noticed something fishy with the blueprints. There was one room on the second floor labeled ‘mechanic room’.”

Rossi's brows furrowed in confusion, “We found no ‘mechanic room’? Where is it located?”

“The door is in the library!” She replied.

“In the library? There was no other door…” Realization hit Prentiss, “A panic room?”

“Possibly,” JJ agreed, “You think the evidence we need would be in there?”

“That could be where he's torturing the victims as well,” Hotch suggested.

Rossi wasn't convinced, “You think he could get those women in there without his wife and kids finding out? Even knowing their schedules, there's always the chance of them going off schedule at some point and accidentally catching him in the act.” 

“It's worth a shot,” said Hotch, “Especially with his timeline. He should have his next victim now. He'll kill her tomorrow. Dump her the day after.”

“We don't have time for another warrant,” JJ pointed out in worry. 

“Isabella Carson was reported missing two days ago,” added Garcia, “he's probably got her.”

“She doesn't have a lot of time left.” Said Rossi.

JJ crossed her arms over her chest, “What do we do then?”

“We have to save that girl,” Prentiss stated the obvious, “Warrant or not she needs us.”

“We can't just bust in there. Especially if we're wrong-” Derek paused, a grin forming on his face, “Who is someone who can get into that mega mansion undetected and get out just as undetected?” 

“Someone who has done this before?” added Prentiss.

“And gotten away with it?” added JJ.

They all turned to Spencer, who looked at them in confusion. “What? I've never done that.” 

“Not you, Reid,” Rossi deadpanned, “Y/N.”

Spencer's eyes widened, “Y/N? Absolutely not! She's never done a house robbery before!”

Y/N, Spencer's lovely girlfriend, was a diagnosed kleptomaniac, who can't resist her urges to steal. Most of the time, it was stupid things like a pencil or a pack of gum. She usually returned what she had stolen. 

However, that was just most of the time. 

She had admitted to robbing a bank once (well, multiple times, actually, but the team didn't need to know that). And other robberies like stores and gas stations.

She was a master with her hands, able to steal within seconds without a single person noticing. 

“I'm not going to send her off to the home of the unsub.” Spencer said firmly, shaking his head.

“Reid, that girl is going to die unless we can find new evidence against him!” exclaimed Prentiss.

“As sad as that is, it's either her or my girlfriend,” Spencer said dryly, “And I don't know about you, but I'd like my girlfriend to live.”

“We will be right there. If she needs backup, we'll be there.” Rossi persuaded.

“Still, no.  Besides, she has rehearsal tonight.” Reid said firmly. 

His phone rang and he fished it out of his pocket to silence it.

Y/N.

“Gee, Reid, maybe you should answer.” Said Rossi.

“So you can harass her?” He scoffed.

“Reid's right, we can’t put Y/N in danger.” Said Hotch, “It’s unprofessional and dangerous.” Always the voice of reason.

“Then what do we do? We're going to have another body,” Derek pointed out. 

“Another body?”

Spencer jumped and looked down at his phone, noticing he was holding it so tightly he had pressed the ‘accept’ button. “Oh… hi, Y/N.”

“Hey, baby. What's going on?”

__________

Oh, he was going to shit his pants.

Well, he wasn't, but he felt like he was going to, his girlfriend sitting surrounded by the BAU as she viewed the blueprints of Richard Smith's home. 

“So I just have to go here?” Y/N asked, pointing at the room labeled ‘mechanic room’. “Easy enough,”

“It’s on the second floor,” Spencer reminded her, biting his bottom lip. 

“Yeah. Should still be pretty easy.” she looked up at him, “Baby, sit down. You look like you’re going to pass out.” 

“Because you’re going to infiltrate the house of the unsub!” he exclaimed. Was he the only one who thought this was crazy? That this was a terrible idea? “Hotch, would you let Hailey do something so dangerous?”

“Of course not,” Hotch answered honestly, “I think this is a bad idea too,” 

“Come on,” Y/N scoffed at them, “I’m like a pro at this.”

���You’ve never broken into people’s homes before,” Spencer huffed. 

“Actually, I have,” she noticed the looks the BAU members were exchanging, “A long time ago.”

“Kleptomaniacs steal from impulse. You broke into homes on impulse?” Rossi asked with a raised brow.

“Oh, no. That was for attention. Anyway…” Y/N looked down at the blueprints again, “Garcia, Imma need you to check to see if this guy has ever purchased an alarm system. Imma assume he has one, to keep all his rich people stuff safe.”

“I believe I saw a system when we searched the place,” JJ added helpfully. 

“Ah, look at that,” Reid said, “Guess she can’t break in,” 

“Of course I can. Don’t start doubting me now,” 

Holy shit, can’t she take a hint? He didn’t want her to do this. He wanted her at her rehearsal, safe and far away from Richard Smith. Unfortunately for Spencer, her rehearsal was cancelled, which was why she had called him in the first place. 

Y/N pulled him down to the seat next to her, an arm going around his waist as she began scribbling plans of execution all over the blueprints. "Relax," she said simply, which didn't help him relax at all.

“Don’t worry, pretty boy,” Morgan placed a hand on his shoulder comfortingly, “We’ll be right outside just in case. She’s not going to get hurt, even if she gets caught.”

“The only reason I’m allowing this,” Hotch pointed out, “...is because I believe she won’t get caught.”

“We value our jobs,” Rossi added.

“Think of it like this, baby: most of the times I got caught,” Y/N smirked, “It was because I wanted to be.”

______________________

The car ride towards Richard Smith’s home was silent. 

Spencer was seated in the passenger seat, being the Passenger Princess he was, arms crossed, staring out the window with his bottom lip jutted out.

“Baby,” Y/N said.

“Humph,” was what she got out of him.

“Baby,” she repeated. 

“What?” he finally faced her, arms still crossed over his chest. 

“I’m going to be okay,”

“Why did you even agree to this?!” he finally exploded, his anger and worry finally coming out in one swift motion, “That man is a serial killer! He could kill you! And if I lose you…” he huffed again, turning to look out the window once again.

“You’re not going to lose me,” Y/N’s free hand went to his knee, the other on the wheel, “Besides, even if I did meet my unfortunate demise, I’ll make sure to haunt you.”

“This isn’t funny!” he whined, looking at her again with those big, sad puppy dog eyes that literally always got him what he wanted from her.

But not this time. 

She chuckled softly, patting his knee, “Sorry, baby. Just trying to lighten up the mood.”

“It’s not working,” 

“I’ll buy you a really nice present tomorrow,”

“You can’t do that if you’re a ghost,” 

She hummed in response, “I’ll be a special ghost. You’ll know it’s me whenever you enter your apartment and somehow Girls’ Generation is playing,”

Finally, the corners of his lips curl up in a tiny smile, “Of course it’s Girls’ Generation. That’s how I know I’m really in a horror movie.”

“Whoa!” Y/N said dramatically, “Spencer Reid said a joke? A disrespectful one towards my queens, but a joke nonetheless!” she laughed, pinching his cheek. “I love you, baby. Never disrespect Girls’ Generation again, though,” 

A giggle escaped him, “Yes, ma’am, I love you too” his smile faded when she parked the car, a few blocks away from Richard Smith. “Oh. We’re here,” 

“Mhm, can you pass the equipment, please?” 

With a sigh, Spencer reached towards the backseat and grabbed a headband with a camera attached. Y/N held out a hand to take it but Spencer ignored her, putting it on her himself. His brows were furrowed in concentration, bottom lip puffed out as he adjusted the camera on her head.

“Stop being cute, it makes me want to make out with you,” Y/N grumbled. 

“Shut up, you’re going after the unsub, like you want me to have a heart attack. No kisses for you,”

“Okay, but like, if I do die and become a ghost, I won’t even need to haunt you, because the fact the last time I ever asked for a kiss, you denied me, and I die a few hours after will haunt you for the rest of your life.” 

“Stop it!” he huffed, hitting her shoulder, “You’re making me nervous!” 

“Does your team know you’re both demanding and abusive?” Y/N asked dramatically, rubbing her shoulder that didn’t even hurt.

“I'm neither,”

“You're demanding, a thousand percent. I guess you just save that for me.’

“No I don't!” 

Y/N laughed, cupping his cheeks, “I love you. I'll be okay. This ain't my first rodeo.”

She leaned in for a kiss but he huffed at her. “No kisses for asshole girlfriends.”

“Shit, baby, you're evil.” she giggled, “I guess I should hurry up and get this over with so I can get some, eh?”

“Youre not getting shit.” it was a venomous thing to say, but he giggled again, leaning in and giving her a kiss. He was never much of a playful person, but with Y/N it was different. She was different. And he quite liked it. 

“Ah, I'm such a bad influence, got you cursing all over the place,” she pinched his cheek lovingly before getting out of the car. 

The couple gathered with the rest of the BAU, cramped in the back of a van where Garcia had computers set up, typing away. 

“Alright,” she began, “We will be able to see everything you see,” she pressed a button, and the monitor changed, showing the side of Spencer's head, because that was exactly what Y/N was looking at. “There!” 

“Remember your task. Look for tapes, or any other sort of evidence while you make your way up to the library. Once in there, access the panic room.” Hotch began, holding up a USB-like device, “Insert this into the lock, and Garcia will be able to find the pass code for you. Remember, the main goal of this mission is to get Isabella out of there.”

“I got you,” Y/N grinned, nodding, “Easy peasy,” she turned to Spencer, who looked ready to vomit. “I'll be okay! Promise. Have I ever broken a promise?” 

Spencer looked up at her, plump bottom lip between his teeth, “No.” 

She smiled, cupping his cheek, “I don't plan on starting now,” she kissed his cheek before pulling away, “Time to commit some crimes.”

________ 

Once the alarm system was disabled, Y/N found herself opening a window and entering the mega mansion’s dining room. The BAU stood huddled together at the monitor, watching her work.

“Shit,” she smirked, picking up the fancy centerpiece, “This is fancy,”

Spencer groaned, saying into the mic, “Y/N, focus.” She was wearing an earpiece to hear any direction from the team. 

“Yeah yeah yeah,” she put the centerpiece down, “Find evidence. Got it.”

Fuck, he was biting at his nails, silently cursing out his team for coming up with this idea, cursing out Y/N for agreeing to this. He felt like vomiting. 

Y/N began searching around the first floor: dining room, living room, other living room (?), kitchen, and then… the first bedroom.

“I’m going to throw up,” Reid muttered, head in his hands. 

“The fun’s just started,” she said smugly, twisting the knob quietly. She entered the room, and Spencer realized he was holding his breath. 

Richard Smith’s daughter, Emma, was fast asleep in her bed, luckily with a pair of headphones on, easing Spencer’s worries somewhat. Y/N began rummaging through her things, looking to see if her father might have left something in her room. For all they knew, the whole family could be in on it. 

“Holy shit,” Y/N whispered.

“What?! What is it?!” Spencer exclaimed, feeling his hands begin to sweat. 

“Do you see Richard?” asked Hotch, brows furrowed, his usual unamused expression on his face. 

“Emma is a Sone!” 

“...a what?” Rossi asked.

Spencer, feeling second-hand embarrassment over his girlfriend’s words, explained, “People who like Girls’ Generation,” 

On the monitor, a musical album filled the screen, showing what Y/N was looking at. She held it, obviously observing it.

“Y/N,” Spencer said, lips uncomfortably close to the microphone, “Put that back. Please,”

“It’s an old album too,” she opened it up. 

Rossi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “This is what we can expect sending a kleptomaniac into the home of a very wealthy family…”

“Y/N,” Spencer repeated, “Put down the album. I will literally buy you that exact same album. Please focus,” 

Y/N gasped, making the whole team jump in worry. “She’s got Jessica!” she held a small cardboard album inclusion with a pretty woman on it to the camera on her forehead. “Jessica!”

He couldn’t believe this was happening. His girlfriend who was supposed to aid the BAU in catching a serial killer was busy ogling over her idol Jessica in said serial killer’s home. He couldn’t tell if he was horrified, embarrassed, or both. 

“We might have made a mistake,” Prentiss muttered as the team watched Y/N begin to shove objects into her bag. 

“This is stealing,” Spencer stated the obvious, trying to stay calm, “Put it back, Y/N,” he pronounced each word slowly, as if sternly speaking to a small child.

“Fine,” she huffed.

Spencer glanced at the team, “We’re going to have to pat her down when she gets out of there,” 

“Must be nice having a girlfriend you can’t even trust,” Rossi stated sarcastically. 

“Not now, Rossi,” Spencer groaned. He spoke into the mic again, “Y/N, I’m begging, please get on task.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” she grumbled quietly, leaving the room, “No fun,”

“A girl might die,” Rossi reminded her dryly. 

“We’re going to get fired,” JJ added. 

“It’s going to be fine,” Y/N huffed, going into another room. “Trust me,” she began to go up a grand staircase, “Imma be this rich, baby, trust,” she whispered, obviously to Spencer.

“Legally?” Rossi deadpanned.

“Let’s focus on the task,” sighed Hotch. 

“Yeah, Rossi,” Y/n grumbled, “Let’s focus on the task,” she reached for a random decorative piece on the wall, her impulses taking over.

“Y/N,” Spencer said through gritted teeth, “Don’t,”

She paused, hands hovering over it, “Sorry, baby,” 

He sighed in relief, realizing he’s getting somewhere with her. She was starting to actually listen to him and fight the urges. 

“Good job, pretty boy,” Morgan said with a nod, “Keep her on task,” 

Spencer nodded, biting his bottom lip, “I’m trying,” He knew this was going to be the most stressful case of his life. 

It was a complete mess, a constant battle to keep her from stealing unnecessary junk throughout the abnormally large home. From diamond jewelery to magnets, this woman was struggling to not grab everything around her.

She finally made it to the library, and Spencer let out a soft sigh of relief. They were getting somewhere. However, so far, not a single piece of evidence was found. This was their last shot to prove their profile was correct. 

Y/N closed the door behind her, scanning the area. She began going through the desk, humming to herself as she looked for anything of use. She then paused, eyes on a small container of paper clips.

“Focus,” Spencer already knew what she was thinking. “Y/N-”

She snatched up a handful and placed it in her bag. 

“Y/N!” he groaned, “You do not need more paper clips.” That was the problem with kleptomania. She never needed the things she stole. It was a desire she couldn’t control (okay, sometimes it was for fun). There was absolutely no reason she needed a whole handful of paper clips. But her brain told her she did. 

Y/N ignored him, grabbing another handful and looking around the room again, “The mechanic room should be… here.” she gestured in front of her, a large bookshelf, “Oh my God is there like a book that when you grab it, it’s actually a lever, and it reveals the secret door to the secret room?” she started grabbing at books on the shelves excitedly. 

“We’re going to get fired,” JJ repeated.

Gripping another book, Y/N hooted in victory, the book not budging and making a clicking sound instead. She backed up, watching the shelf move, revealing a door. “Fuck yeah,” she took out the USB device and a screwdriver, getting to work on the passlock. Once it was open, she inserted the USB.

“My turn,” Garcia hummed, typing away on a monitor, “Okay, the code is 9-1-4-7-2.”

Y/N repeated Garcia’s words as she pressed the buttons, unlocking the door. “Moment of truth,” The large metal door began to open on its own, and Y/N entered the room, flashlight in hand. She began looking for a light switch, pausing when she saw a small bin. In curiosity, she went towards it.

“Look for evidence, not things to steal,” Spencer reminded her.

“No fun,” she opened the box, “Shit…” she held up an object to the camera, “...tapes.” She looked down at the tape again, reading it, “ ‘Fun with Hannah“

“Same handwriting as the unsub,” Morgan pointed out, “Same language use,” 

To confirm, Y/N picked up another tape. Fun with Katherine. 

“That’s what we need,” Hotch said, “These were before he decided to send them to families, so there’s a chance these aren’t edited and his face might be visible. Y/N, grab a few.”

“Jackpot,” she held up something else: a leatherbound journal with yellowing pages, “Journal,” 

“Okay, you got evidence. Get out of there,” Spencer said quickly. 

“We still need to find Isa-” Y/N’s eyes widened as she moved her flashlight, coming face-to-face with a girl bound to a chair, “Shit, fuck, shit, I’m like actually in the mega mansion of a serial killer,” 

“I’m going to throw up,” Reid gasped, biting at his nails again. 

“Untie her!” Hotch stated the obvious, trying to keep everyone from losing it, “Untie her and get out of there,” 

“Right, right,” Y/N reached for the girl, when she suddenly went, “Oh, shit!” 

Spencer’s eyes widened in terror as Y/N turned around, coming face-to-face with Richard Smith. Without a second thought, he shoved his gun into its holster and bolted out of the van, sprinting down the street. 

“Go, go, go!” Hotch shouted, the rest of the team barreling after the boy genius. 

Spencer was not a runner.  He was a terrible athlete. Yet he ran like a track star, his heart beating practically out of his chest with each step on the concrete. 

If anything happened to her, he wasn’t sure what he would do.

___________

“Hi there,” Y/N said casually, trying to calm her nerves in front of Richard Smith, the unsub, the killer of God knows how many young women, “Does your wife know about this little hobby of yours?”

From the profile given to her, Y/N knew he was narcissistic and full of himself. She had to keep him talking. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said simply. 

“I know,” she replied, glancing at poor Isabella Carson, who looked terrified, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. “You know, you did a great job here. How did you manage to not get caught?”

Richard looked at her in confusion, a brow raised in suspicion, “Excuse me?”

“How’d you do it? How’d you get away with it?” she asked

The serial killer smirked, leaning against a wall in the secret room, “You broke in here to ask about my killing methods?”

Y/N nodded, biting her bottom lip in an innocent way, “They’re admirable, actually. I’m sorry I didn’t go to you directly, I didn’t want to disturb your sleep.” 

A look of victory crossed the killer’s face, “No no, that’s fine. I just… didn’t think anyone was admiring my work.” 

A very rich man who made his riches by exploiting others. He was a dominant force, and needed to feel it. And Y/N knew this. 

“So how did you do it, Sir?” Y/N asked, “I want to learn from you,” 

Richard’s smirk grew as she spoke, “Learn from me, huh? Alright… well, my family is here at the moment but… some other time, I can absolutely teach you my ways,” his eyes flickered towards her chest, then her eyes again. 

“Well, I won’t bother you anymore,” Y/N said, inching towards the door, “I hope we can meet again-” Richard put his arm in the way of the door, and Y/N knew she was trapped. “Um, I’ll leave you be-” 

“No,” a devlish look appeared on his face.

“Yes,” without a second thought, her hand flew out of her pocket, and she was tazing his balls.

He did not like that.

“Okay.” she began as he shouted and crumbled to the floor, “Now my super hot FBI boyfriend is going to come arrest your ugly ass in three… two… one-”

“Y/N?!”

“There he is,” she grinned, turning over her shoulder, “In here, baby!” she called after him. 

Spencer came sprinting up to the library, “Y/N?! Y/N!” he threw his arms around her, “You’re okay,”

“Yeah,” she brought an arm around him, eyes on Richard Smith who was laid out on the floor, “I’m okay,”

_________

The rest of the BAU came in after, freeing Isabella Carson and arresting Richard Smith.

His family was not happy. 

Once outside of the mansion, Spencer conduced a pat-down of his girlfriend, removing all of the stolen objects from her bag and body. 

“Do you really have to steal everything you see?” he grumbled, finding some pens in her boot. 

“I can’t help it, baby,” 

“I know,” he sighed, standing up, “By the way,” he cupped her cheeks, “You’re not allowed to help on a case ever again,”

She laughed, pressing a kiss to his lips, “I don’t think crime solving is my thing anyway, darling,” 

“Good, I was terrified,” he nuzzled into her neck, “This job is stressful enough, I don’t need to worry about you as well,” he paused, “I still have to worry about you anyway.” 

“Am I really that much of a terror?” 

“A bit,” 

He then was called up by Hotch, so he gave her another kiss on the cheek before grabbing a box filled with the goodies she stole, walking off to him.

She waited till he was far enough away before, with a big smirk, she pulled out a card from under her sleeve. 

The Jessica Jung photocard she found.

_________

A few weeks later, the BAU sat together, viewing a case.

“I don’t understand,” Rossi muttered in thought, “How can these two rob these banks so easily? No weapons, they kill their victims an hour after with their bare hands. How are they doing this?”

“If only we knew someone who has robbed a bank before,” said JJ.

“With no weapons either,” said Morgan.

“And didn’t get caught,” said Prentiss.

All eyes went to Spencer.

“I’ve never robbed a bank before-”

“Not you. Y/N,” Morgan deadpanned. 

“Well, actually, she did get caught-”

“The first time,” Rossi corrected, “Garcia found some messaged between Y/N and a friend. She gave us printouts,”

Spencer sighed, rolling his eyes, “She’s always giving printouts,” 

“So,” JJ grinned, “Is Y/N busy?”

And that's how Spencer found himself with an annoyed expression in the corner of the office, the rest of the team huddled around the case's special consult, Y/N.

______

Inbox is open!

[reiderwriter]

Margaritas and Mistakes

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Genre: Fluff, suggestive, smut coming in the next part (it's already written it just felt best to post them separately lmao).

Warnings: Suggestive language, dirty talk, some heavy petting and mention of sexual arousal. 18+ MINORS DNI

Summary: On a group night out, you get a little more drunk than you want to, and when Spencer shows up looking like the love of your life and not just your coworker, you realise that the margarita’s are having more of an effect than they should be.

A/N: Welcome back, it's my week off currently so I've been writing a copious amount of smut, so please enjoy this 3.6k word build up to more smut coming soon. Requests are still open, and you can find my masterlist here!

PART TWO!

You truly made all of your worst decisions when under the influence of alcohol. You blamed it on the fact that you really didn’t get the chance to go out all that often now that you were a full time member of the BAU Team. But the job was sometimes rewarding, and considering you’d been working on consultations all week and not a full time case, you were really looking forward to stretching your legs this friday night and getting some much needed relaxation in before you had to stare evil in the eye one more time.

“Girls’ Night Out! No male detectives, partners, Special Supervisory Agents, Unit Chiefs, OR Doctors!” Penelope cheered as you arrived at her apartment that night prior to your eventful outing.

“God I needed this,” Emily sighed, taking a sip of her drink. “I can’t remember the last time I got to kick back with a glass of chardonnay.”

“You sent me a picture of your drink two days ago, and it didn’t exactly look like water,” JJ laughed.

“Ah you see, my dear JJ, that wasn’t kicking back. That was therapy.”

“Honestly, though, it’s going to be good to get out of the house. I swear, the only places I’ve been for the last month have been my apartment and work,” you sigh, downing the last of the drink Penelope had handed you on the way in.

“What happened to that guy you were seeing, Y/N? Was he that bad?”

“Don’t even mention it. He took me back to his place and he didn’t even have a mattress on the floor, wanted us to do it on his couch,” you groan. “The couch that was also housing all of his laundry. And I’m not positive it was even clean laundry.”

You really had been having the absolute worst luck with men recently; other than your aforementioned tinder date, the only men who had shown any interest in you being serial killers who wanted to murder you and married cops looking to fool around with an FBI agent. Not the most auspicious of dating pools.

“Okay, operation get Y/N laid is a go. Ladies, your jobs tonight, should you choose to accept it, is to become the best wing-women this town has ever seen!” Penelope joked, and you found yourself giggling at just the idea, thankful that they were taking the time to try to cheer you up.

“Oh I’m all in. I’m warning you now, Y/N, my wing-woman success rate is pretty high. I’ve helped multiple couples achieve not only orgasm, but also marriage and kids.” Emily boasted.

“Emily, next time you might want to think about the wording of that one,” JJ laughed. “But I’m in too, you could use a little unwinding.”

“Not you too, JJ. You were supposed to be our voice of reason tonight.” You giggle into your cup, feeling the effect of your starter alcohol already.

“Nope. We’re having no responsible adults in our midst tonight. That’s why I’ve already arranged for our favourite Doctor to come and pick us up when the last of us falls tonight. He’s at a screening of some Indie Russian flick until 2am which is probably about perfect for our plans.”

This is the first you’ve heard of Penelope’s plans, but you’re not against it. With a solid escape route, you can let loose as much as you want tonight and know that all of your friends are fully able to have as much fun as possible tonight.

“Well, that’s the plan for us, sweetcheeks. Maybe you’ll get lucky.” Penelope winked at you with a nefariously innocent look on her face. And suddenly you weren’t quite as sure you trusted her…

–X–

After your first margarita at the bar you were still feeling fine. Sure, you were talking a lot louder than you usually did, and if you saw yourself in the mirror you’d probably start giggling instantly at the stupid, semi-permanent grin on your face, but you were feeling so relaxed that it was of no consequence.

You’d moved swiftly from Penelope’s apartment to the nearest downtown bar. It looked pretty seedy to you, and the lighting was so low you could barely make out the faces of your friends in their seats at the same table as you, but you were sure some of that was just the alcohol blurring your vision.

Your hearing though was still in top shape, which was why when Penelope asked her next question, you almost spit the drink out of your mouth, rushing to laugh.

“Okay, fuck, marry, kill, Hotch, Morgan, Reid.” She giggled as she posed the question to her teammates.

“Oh come on now, that’s not fair.” Emily laughed at the question posed.

“You’re right, I don’t know a woman alive that doesn’t want a ride on my chocolate thunder.” Penelope let out a faux dreamy sigh and took another swig of her drink.

“And marrying Reid just seems wrong. He’s like our brother at this point.” JJ points out, just shuddering at the thought.

“So we’re all in agreement? Fuck Morgan, marry Hotch and lovingly bury Reid six foot under?” Emily laughs and the other two nod.

“Nope,” is all you manage to get out before going for another large gulp of your drink.

“Well, well, well, Y/N what would you be doing differently?” Emily snaps her head around to look at you, eager for the juicy details.

“None of you are curious what the doctor is packing?” You reply, almost innocently, unaware of the many plots culminating in the minds of your friends at that very second.

“Not at all. “Nope.” “That’s pretty gross, actually.” They all seem to reply at once, but Penelope pushes another drink into your hand as soon as you’re done and gets ready to launch a counter-attack.

“Are you curious about it?” She leaves it at that, and if you weren’t so drunk, you’d have seen them all lean into you, desperate for your answer and ready to hang off of your every word. "Do you think about you and him… You know?"

“Every night,” you sigh dreamily. And you’re telling the truth. In the recent months, you’d found yourself waking up a little hot and bothered after some rather steamy midnight encounters with the Good Doctor. You’d become close to him over the few months you’d worked with him as a member of the team, but it wasn’t like you’d had a crush on him or anything. It was more like your body had an unconscious appreciation of his body. Or at least for certain parts of his body.

“His fingers are really nice, you know. And they’re big, too. Just makes a girl curious, s’all.” You down the proffered drink, hiding your remaining shame behind the glass.

“No, no, no babycakes, we’re gonna need more details than that if you’re gonna claim that you want to fuck Reid more than Morgan.” Penelope insisted, more forceful now than before.

“And what exactly does every night mean, Y/N? Something you should be telling us?” JJ wiggled her eyebrows at you and you lost it for a few seconds having a giggling fit.

“Okay, okay, it’s just… You’ve seen how he looks, right? And there was that one case three weeks back. He confronted that accomplice, and when he was about to bolt he slammed him against the wall and held him there like he’d barely broken a sweat. And you know how it is, we see Morgan kicking down doors on the daily, so I thought I wouldn’t be that interested in feats of physical strength, but my only thought in that moment was that I’d rather like him to slam…me…against that …wall.” You slowed down your speech at the end, looking up to see what looked to you like the grinning faces of three wolves staring down at their prey.

“And now I need another drink, anyone up for another round?” You squeaked out, changing the topic before any of the others could make their own comments.

–X–

Your second round of margarita’s was probably where things went irreversibly wrong for you. You’d returned to the table with two rounds of shots for all, having queued up four songs on the ancient jukebox you’d seen in the corner, hoping to entice the girls away from conversation, and it had worked.

After you’d bought the first two rounds, JJ had bought you another, and then Emily had splurged on another three, and then Garcia had rounded the hour out with one more shot, this time with sparklers attached.

So by the time you got back to your table and took a much needed swig of a drink that didn’t have to go down all at once, you were feeling well past drunk, to say the least.

But with the free-flowing alcohol came the lack of inhibition, so you really didn’t care. True to their word, the girls had been doing their best to convince you to dance with some of the guys in the bar since you’d gotten up, but truthfully none of them had enticed you.

But now, the night was running out, and the alcohol had you a bit hot and bothered, so when you felt a nice, hard body press up gently against yours, you decided to take advantage of the situation. Without looking back, you wrapped your hand around the one of his that had grazed your hips and held in there, moving your hips back and forth and beginning to grind back into your mystery man.

He was a little bit still at first, but eventually began making some slow movements along with you, and you could see the others cheering for you from a distance, Emily especially whooping from her perch at the bar.

You felt the voice lean down to your ear after a minute or so, and you tilted your neck up to hear the tall man a little better.

“What are you doing, Y/N?” He whispered against your skin, still letting him guide you through the music. Had you been sober, you’d have realised the voice was more than familiar, especially since he’d said your name, but you were not, and so you did not.

“Well, if you’re lucky, tonight I’ll be doing you?” you giggled back, looking up at the man quickly. But with the hazy lights of the bar and the copious amount of alcohol you’ve ingested, you don’t catch a good enough glimpse of the man to realise he’s your coworker.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink,” he says, when you start to pull him towards the bar, his grip on your hips tightening, accidentally pressing you back into what you expect to be his semi-erect cock, straining against your clothing.

“Oh, what, wanna take me home right now? That’s okay with me, mister.” You giggle, grinding back into him more intentionally this time. You grip his hand and try to force it up to touch more of you, utterly carefree about throwing yourself on what you presume to be a stranger in the middle of a bar.

Before you manage to, however, he lets out a frustrated groan and turns you around by your hips, forcing you to look him in the eye for a little bit longer, and all of your senses finally start working once again.

“Yes, Y/N, we’re going now. Penelope called me 15 minutes ago and said you were ready for that ride home and I can see now that she was right,” Reid leant down so you could hear him enough, but your brain was short circuiting.

You’d been grinding on your coworker. The one that had been the cause of so much of your sexual frustration for the past god knows how long. Spencer was right in front of you, and he hadn’t loosened his grip on you that much. Spencer was right in front of you and his erection was poking into you.

Really, your following actions shouldn’t be held against you in the slightest given the situation.

“Are you going to take me home, Doctor? Lay me down in bed and get me nice and comfortable?” you giggled up at the man, now enjoying the way your insinuations were making him blush.

“Y/N, you’re not being fair. We need to get the others and go,” he shot back, irritation dripping from his tone.

“Oh I’m sorry, am I being a bad girl?”

“You’re certainly being very difficult- what are you doing?” He jolted as you moved your hands to his fair, beginning to play with the curls at the nape of his neck.

“It’s softer than I imagined it would be,” you giggled again, pressing yourself forward to press a kiss against his neck.

“Okay, we need to get you home,” he panicked, grabbing both of your hands, pressing them against your sides, spinning you around and walking you back towards the other girls.

“Hello Spencer~” the girls all giggled as you approached. You struggled against his grip a little, but he kept you firmly in place, man-handling you slightly, and you practically melted into his touch.

“Who let Y/N drink this much? Don’t answer that, you’ve all been drinking the same amount, right?” He left out a frustrated breath, and ran one hand through his hair. You attempted to move again, but he’d practically pinned you to the table. Your hips were pressed into the edge of it, his hips pressed against you, forcing you up against the table in a way that should have been uncomfortable. His other hand was resting near your discarded glass, caging you in almost entirely.

“Cars out front, lets go,” he said, his jaw twitching with anger now.

“No need, lover boy, taxis are coming to pick myself, Penelope and JJ up as we speak,” Emily slurred the words, but got the idea across well enough. “You’ll just be needing to take this little kitten home and you’re done for the night.”

They were all giggling now, as you let out a childlike yay, your excitement evident on your face.

“We’ll wait and see you all off together at least, so outside now. She needs some fresh air or something,” he was practically talking to a wall at that point, but after a few repetitions, the women acquiesced and moved outside.

“Ooh, that’s my taxi, gotta go,” Garcia practically runs from you the moment you step outside, and you wave at her whilst wrapped around one of Reid’s arms, stumbling with each step.

“Use protection my sweet babies,” she shouts as she slams the car door just as her car drives away, leaving a spluttering Spencer unable to respond that he’s not touching you tonight while you’re in this state.

The taxis for Emily and JJ arrive swiftly as well, and the two soon depart with similar messages and soon you find yourself alone with Spencer once again.

“So, your place or mine,” you smirk, looking up at him and batting your eyelashes in the sweetest way you can manage.

“You’re drunk, Y/N, you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Drunk I may be, Doctor, but I absolutely know what I’m saying. I’m saying I want you to shove me against a wall and finger fuck me until I don’t know how to walk anymore.”

“Goddamnit, Y/N, someone’s gonna hear you.”

“Oh you want me to be quiet? If you take my panties off and push them into my mouth maybe you could shut me up for a few minutes.”

“Get in the car, now.” You stick your tongue out at him, but hop into the passenger seat. He slams the door in your face and takes a few deep breaths before moving around and getting in himself.

–X–

Despite having the window open the entire car journey, hoping that the fresh air will do you some good, you’re still on top form when Spencer pulls up to your apartment.

“I didn’t even give you my address,” you pouted, as you tried, unsuccessfully, to remove your seatbelt.

“I memorised your file, now let’s get you into bed,” he unclasps it for you, and you use the close proximity to drop a kiss on his cheek.

“Only if you get into bed with me, hot stuff,” you wink at him and make for the door. “You know, you’re going to remember everything I said in the morning, right?” You asked him.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he muttered under his breath as he caught you just as you were about to teeter into the hedge on the shared green space. You wrapped your arms around his neck for the second time that night and stopped him in his tracks. Looking deep into his eyes, you took one of your hands and traced it gently over the side of his face and down his neck, your eyes following your fingers. He gulped involuntarily when you hit his adams apple, and you snapped your eyes back to him.

“Chances are that I’m probably not going to remember any of this, right?” You smiled up at him.

“Alcohol induced memory blackouts tend to occur in binge-drinkers whose alcohol levels have hit at least 0.16%, and further studies show that 50% of adults will experience some kind of alcohol-related memory loss in their lives, so yes, I’d say you’re probably not going to remember any of this.” He shot back, almost entirely still in anticipation of your next move.

“Good, then I might as well enjoy the moment while it lasts right.” As soon as the words were out of your mouth, your lips crashed into his, and after a beat, his reciprocated, moving over yours just as hungrily. He moved now, walking you back to your door, lips still locked in a ferocious battle for dominance, until he pinched your arm slightly. You gasped a little, ready to pull back and complain about the pain, but suddenly his tongue was in your mouth and you were back at it all over again. He tapped your legs, signalling that he wanted you to jump into his arms, and you did, wrapping your legs around his centre tightly as he finished making his way to your apartment door.

Pulling away for the briefest of moments, he pulled your keys from your back pocket, and made quick work of your door.

“Bedroom, now Spencer, please I need you,” you whimpered in his arms, pressing kisses against his jaw and neck. Unfortunately, he had other ideas.

“No. We are going to the bathroom, where you’re going to wash your makeup off, brush your teeth and change your clothes, and then you are going to get in bed and sleep.” He unceremoniously dropped you at the door of your bathroom, and you slid to the ground.

Pouting up at him, you felt the tears well in your eyes.

“No! I don’t want to go to bed yet,” you sounded like a petulant child and Spencer cursed a little under his breath when he looked down at you.

“Y/N listen to me very clearly, you’re not thinking straight. You’re way past the legal limit, you can’t consent to any of this and I’m not going to sleep with you and then have you forget it in twelve hours.” His tone was harsh, but you listened to him.

Picking yourself up off the floor, you followed his instructions and got yourself ready for bed.

“Okay, I’m all done now, Doctor,” you grumbled once you were done. You half expected him to have left you there, choosing to retreat whilst you cleaned yourself up, knowing that he’d already done what was asked of him by getting you home. But he was still there perched on your bed, and you made one last attempt to get what you wanted.

As he made his way to stand up, you used the last of your strength to push him back down again and climbed into his lap. This time though, you made no attempt to take anything further, just wrapping your arms and legs around him and burrowing into his shoulder. You had to admit, you were getting particularly sleepy now.

You let out a small yawn and burrowed further into his neck just as he opened his mouth.

“Y/N, please, what are you doing?” He sounded tired now, but didn’t attempt to push you off again.

“You said I was probably not going to remember this in the morning. That’s not going to fly with me. So you’re gonna sleep here with me and tell me everything I forgot in the morning.” You informed him.

He scoffed at you, but you could hear the smile in his voice when he replied.

“So you want me to just sleep here next to you? No pushing you against a wall? No panties in your mouth?”

“Nope. Like you said, ‘s getting pretty late and it’s been a long week, so it's probably for the best if we…” You tried to finish but your tongue was so heavy in your mouth that you just couldn’t use it anymore. You felt the warm rumble of his answering laugh of disbelief as he manoeuvred the two of you under the covers, taking the time to kick off his shoes and remove his coat and shirt.

“Sleep well, Y/N, because when you wake up I’m going to make you feel all of the torment you’ve put me through tonight tenfold.”

And he held you there against his chest as both of you fell deeper and deeper into your slumber.

PART TWO

[theminecraftbee]

so, first, accountability statement: I plan on trying to finish the “zedaph steals a baby” fic by the end of the month and god is that one-line summary no longer accurate but we’re sticking to it, said here publicly so now I have to do it. obviously I also have recursive exchange and the writing I have for hotguy comics zine, but I am not SUPER worried about either of those time/inspiration-wise at the moment and also for Reasons I know it won’t be long until I have more free writing time after that, SO.

various items that are on my potential writing docket, I am curious which of these appeal most:

I dust off the supervillain support group au. two ways this could go: I chip away at the second arc of my original outline and acknowledge this will be like a 300k fic I’m not ready to feel “done” with or “ready to post” with for ages, or I re-work it into something a little more doable and less ambitious keeping the same premise (ren runs a support group for supervillains, doc pov as he starts to heal and redeem himself). this MAY honestly be a target for “if I don’t hate the first 50k on re-reading it and I can actually make my brain write the second arc, do a slower release schedule and then start releasing chapters before I’m done writing”? but this ALSO runs the risk of “I stopped writing it, which is often a sign I was having trouble writing it”.

pearl monster au, which has been cooking in my head for a long while. the basic premise is “one day, pearl, with no memory of how or why this happened, wakes up in a facility as a monster and must try to figure out how she got there, escape, and find her way home, even knowing she may be irrevocably changed”. now with bonus season 10 fish flavor to add to this creature design I’ve been iterating on in my head for forever! this one is ALSO an experiment for me in “can I write a fic where I can’t write dialogue for basically the entire first act”, which would be interesting to see from me, you know?

the related “bigb folklore au”, where after secret life bigb is woken up by Cat and Dog by the tracks of the King Snake, which bigb can recognize as the railroad track, and decides to journey down the railroad to see if he can figure out what the fuck is going on. I need to do video review of life series bigb for this one. this is my excuse to get Weird and Metaphorical and also assign everyone to various animals for no reason, along with using some very specific aesthetic I have wanted to use for some worldbuilding but hadn’t gotten around to yet in any of my stuff. man walks through the desert with animal, confronts train that might be the watchers, might be death, and might just be a train. also, realizes that “confront” is the operative word there and has to deal with that. you know how it is.

““office au””, in air quotes because it’s not REALLY what anyone going to an office au is looking for so much as an excuse to write weird horror. iskall, normal-ish software developer man in a boring office job who does game jams in his free time, goes to work one day to work in his boring downtown office on a payment system for a client. and then things, uh, Take A Turn. this would be a LITTLE me going “what if I wrote an au with a guy who works in tech but like, the boring side of tech I’m in. like, banks and consulting and manufacturing and shit. where you sit in meetings all day and tweak java 8 code even though that language is ten years out of date. but THEN. something exciting happens in the worst way possible.” I’m doing to iskall what I did to mumbo stuffed bird is what I’m saying. it’d be fun.

DO ANY OF THESE PARTICULARLY INTEREST ANYONE. your input will be valued. like 50% chance i get hit with a strong bolt of inspiration then IGNORE that input but it’ll be valued all the same,

[cinnamonest]

Alright, we need to know. Who are top members of the "looking at women, who're minding their own business, and talking about how sad and concerned you are for them because 'with the way they are, they'll end up single and childless for the rest of their lives and no high value man would give them a chance," club? Like on a sclae of 1-10 how delusional would they become after they realize said woman doesn't give a shit?

Honestly one of my favorite tropes is the whole, “nooo what are you doing living your own life you're supposed to be someone's wife and having babies” thing. Like it has both benevolent aspects (the whole “you'll be happier this way” part) while also having malevolent aspects (the “you're a resource to be used and the resource is being wasted” part).

Like, even irl, there are some men who are like. Discombobulated. Baffled. At the suggestion that a woman can have other priorities in life. The sheer reeling disbelief when he sees a woman that's like 30+ with NO kids, NO husband. Unbelievable. It must be so awful for you, you must be so sad and desperate. Equally worrisome is that you might end up accepting some inferior, unsuitable guy that doesn't have the same Husbandly Quality™ of someone like himself, tragic…

But yes I’ve been thinking about this concept ever since the Diluc escape fic, and I know I’ve talked about him with that concept before, but consider CHILDE would be such a major candidate.

Childe is hopelessly drawn to you if you’re mean.

It’s honestly not healthy for his sake either, but it’s far worse to be on the receiving end. He can’t help it, it’s like waving meat in front of a hungry dog, an irresistible urge to have you.

You’re not exactly high rank, but not much of a subordinate, you’re more of an “other” category, you keep records and files and do a lot of scribe work for a division of units you’re assigned to. Unfortunately for you, higher-ups such as harbingers end up consulting you quite often for records and information… well, most of the time, they send someone else to do such a menial task for them, but he always comes in-person, waltzing in all cheerful and full of youthful energy — and loud, God. You wonder if parents these days have stopped teaching their kids about having an inside voice, because this kid certainly is unfamiliar with the concept.

You scowl, evident disgust on your face as you lazily sort through your records, not about to show any urgency for someone so annoying. You were kind of hoping to irritate him, even. But alas, he’s equally smiley and talkative when you hand him what he’s looking for.

Far too talkative. You’ve already handed him what he needs. Why is he still in here? Now he’s talking to you, asking you the dumbest questions about if you like working here and what you do and blah, blah. You didn’t ask for this. You force yourself to give answers, albeit blunt and short as possible, mostly consisting of yeah-s and sure-s, before the annoyance becomes too much and you ask through clenched teeth if he needs anything else or if he’s done here, an all-too-obvious hint to leave.

Thus marks the beginning of the bane of your existence, because unfortunately, by the will of some malicious higher power, he comes back. Regularly. Habitually. Eventually you start noticing that he isn’t even retrieving anything, half of the time, he’s coming in just to annoy you.

See, for him, it’s not just attraction, but a weird sort of pride thing. That initial coldness draws him in, because it presents a sort of challenge. He’s now overheard other people say the same thing, that you’re cold and mean to everyone.

Based on looks alone, he thinks, you’re old enough that you should be married. Maybe that’s why you’re so mean, you’re just bitter or something. Maybe you had bad luck and got hurt a bunch and now you’re all guarded. That’s actually kind of cute.

Naturally… well, naturally for him and whatever’s wrong with him, at least, it sparks an obsession. He likes chases, challenges. Things that are hard to get are that much more satisfying to obtain, you know? The feeling of having won, the feeling of being better than everyone else, knowing that he accomplished something other people can’t and now reaps the rewards, and the pride and ego boost that comes with it — that sort of thing is an intoxicating fuel, a motivator unlike anything else one could offer him. This does not combine well with the fact that he’s young and hot-blooded and in possession of a hair-triggered sexual aggression, not to mention a sense of pride for which the word ‘no’ doesn’t have any meaning.

It’s kind of sad though. Wasting your life away in some menial job, you’ll be so lonely and regretful.

You’re very lucky, then, that he takes pity on your plight. It will all work out.

Because he can fix you.

And he knows that that's just how you are — he's already composed multiple potential sad backstories that explain your behavior in a way that makes you seem cutely pitiable, that writes off your attitude as being ultimately due to being sensitive and afraid of vulnerability, very endearing — he's not deterred by you pushing him away.

In fact, he realizes, once you've opened up to him and he's forced you to expose the vulnerable side of yourself, you'll probably feel bad for all the times you were mean to him. You'll shuffle even closer (in the scene that plays out in his mind, see, you'll be in bed, naked, face buried against his chest, all clingy and needy) and quietly sheepishly mutter out apologies and ask him to forgive you.

Or maybe after a while, if he keeps being nice to you, you'll break down and cry and be more honest about how sad and lonely you are and how much you need him and then he'll be right there to hold you close and promise to be there for you, it'll be really sweet and will make him very happy. He's already planned out several lines to say that should elicit enjoyable reactions.

It will be so cute. It will feel so good. It’s just a matter of winning you over at this point.

Which, you see, proves to be the difficult part.

He’s getting there, he’s certain, you’re just a little more stubborn than he anticipated.

He’s already started trying to work his way there, during his regular visits. He’s already asked you if you’re married, watched the way your face turned all sour the moment the word came out and the way you rolled your eyes before you muttered a no. Ah. Sore spot, then, as expected.

And then asks if you have kids — because the first answer doesn't necessarily negate that possibility, and ‘jaded single mom with a bad ex' is one of the potential backstories he's theorized for you, so, it's worth asking. You still say no.

The ideal response, then, is—

That's too bad. You would make a good mother!

You narrow your eyes and glare like he's just said the most vile thing you've ever heard. But it's okay, it's cute that you’re so defensive (because you know he’s right and it’s what you really want).

It doesn't matter what you say, any words that come out of your mouth will be filtered through his delusions to match the reality he's already decided is the case.

You say you don't want to get married, this means you actually really do, you say you don't need a man, which means you actually really do and are aware of it and it bothers you, you say you're fine by yourself, which means you're very lonely, it's practically a cry for help.

He'll keep being nice, no matter how much you push back. He can tell it's just because you're sensitive. Maybe you think someone as young and charming as him wouldn't sincerely like you, and you're being defensive? That's probably it. Aw. That makes him feel good.

Poor thing. You're so defensive, so guarded. It's endearing, even if it's starting to get a little frustrating. But it will just take a little more work before he gets through to you, and then everything will work out perfectly… and then he’ll have a nice trophy for all his efforts, can savor the defeat and vulnerability you’ll show. You'll become so meek and submissive and it'll be just for him and no one else. It’ll be so nice. Just a little more time.

[allwaswell16]

Hi Anitra! I was wondering if you had any favourite omega!louis fics?

Ohhhh I have so many...I'll try to narrow it down to five for you...

where the lights are beautiful by twoshipsdrifting / @polkadotlou

Harry wasn’t wrong about that, not in a general sense. Lots of omegas did seek out rich alphas and betas, hoping or planning to go into heat at the right time. Plenty of omegas saw this as their duty, especially if their families weren’t well off. Worse, Louis couldn’t honestly say he’d never thought about it. If that had been his life, his goal, Louis would feel pretty good about himself now. As it is…Louis feels like shit.

Or the accidental bonding a/b/o fic.

Moon Dances Over by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

Louis knows that his tail is, frankly, stunning. His iridescent blue scales shimmer in even the slightest sunlight, and his fins have grown since he presented, delicate and almost transparent in their webbing.

He also knows that that means he’ll be one of the first to pick tonight, as the most beautiful omegas are blessed to pick their mates first. It’s considered a huge honour, since the guppies they’ll eventually birth will certainly be beautiful as well, bringing favour on the whole clan.

Louis has a stubborn streak, though. He’s always been rather a fan of mating for love, and there’s someone he’s had his eye on for a long time now.

Saving Symphony Hall by @helloamhere

“I think I have an idea,” Louis said. Slowly, and reluctantly, but with a growing sense of the inevitable. “God damnit, I think I have a really good idea.”

“Oh christ, that's the problem-solving face,” Babs said. “Last time we saw that face, he sold a company.”

“Wait, what?” Zayn asked.

“Right place, right time,” Louis said. “Also, fuck my life,”

“What?” Zayn repeated. Niall patted his hand.

“I usually just roll with whatever Louis is about to do,” he said. “It’s better for us all.”

“That’s the attitude,” said Louis, “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, I need to do some research. Zayn, give me your number. I’m gonna save our symphony.”

And That’s The Tea by @2tiedships2

I’d like an Earl Grey with milk and sugar, please.

Louis had the phrase memorized, even though it had disappeared off its place on his upper arm over thirteen years ago now.

At fourteen he didn’t understand. Soulmarks don’t just disappear. Not unless…

Unless one of them dies.

Or, the one where Louis loses his soulmate before even getting the chance to meet them, and he is in no way prepared for the kind of distraction his new friend Harry proves to be.

Cameras Flashing by @juliusschmidt

With his breakout single platinum three times over and his second album still selling out in stores around the world, Louis Tomlinson has made it to the top. However, his position as Pop Heartthrob of the Decade is threatened by the edgier, more artistic Zayn, who happens to be releasing an album a week after Louis’ upcoming third. Louis needs something groundbreaking- scandalous, even- to push past him in the charts. Much to Louis’ dismay, his PR team calls in The Sexpert.

Consulting with PR firm Shady, Lane and Associates pays the bills so that Harry Styles can spend his down time doing what he really loves: poring over data. On weekends and late into the evenings, he researches gender, presentation, and sexual orientation, analysing the longitudinal study that is his father’s life’s work. That is, until his newest client, the popstar with the fascinating secret, drags him off his couch and frighteningly close to the spotlight.

As the album’s release date approaches, will Tomlinson and Styles be able to pull off the most risky PR scheme of the millennium and beat Zayn in sales or will the heat of their feelings for each other compromise everything?

Bonus: My favorite omega Louis I wrote lol

If I Loved You Less by allwaswell16

Beautiful omega Louis Tomlinson is set to make his come out in London society and determined to find a mate in his first Season. With the help and protection of his oldest friend, Lord Niall Mendes, he takes Society by storm.

Being a wealthy and titled alpha means Lord Harry Styles has grown used to avoiding unmated omegas...until now. This Season he finds himself at every Society event just for a chance to speak with the omega with the flashing blue eyes.

Louis has the aristocracy at his feet and all the suitors he could hope for, but his secrets may ruin his chance at a love match.

[bekolxeram]

No, OMG! I'm so sorry if my ask came off this way. I was genuinely curious if there was any way this could work, hence the question. I used to believe it was Tommy who flew the plane, but once I saw your explanation, I actually subscribed to your view. It does seem more believable. I wish it was Tommy, but I think you're right, it wouldn't make much sense. I was just curious if Tim and the writers were to confirm in the future that it was indeed Tommy who flew that plane, whether it would be at least somewhat believable. That was the purpose of my ask. I didn't mean to disregard your theories. I'm sorry. I LOVE your aviation analyses; I even sent you a coffee from the Kinley cafe 🫣 I hope you don't stop. Whenever I see you posted something, I have this huge smile on my face because I know I'm about to read a banger of a post. It's all so interesting!

Noooo, it’s not you. I actually really appreciate your asks. And thank you for the Kinley Café order, you have no idea how happy it made me.

I don’t get asks often, but since the 8x02 title reveal I’ve gotten a few, all aviation related. I’ve been… honestly, elated. I have the chance to yap about my passion and do deep dives on stuff that never crossed my mind before. Sometimes I get carried away, I’m very much incapable of being normal about planes. Ever since I saw those planes in bts photos, my brain has been bustling with ideas, and at times I click rb/reply before thinking because I get too excited. I would worry later that I might’ve forced my theories on others without being asked about them. But it’s not like they’re harmful rhetorics or antagonistic hot takes, just an info dump about a lot of planes. So people can ignore and I’ll move on.

I especially enjoyed doing research on that C-130 in 2x14, I learned a lot about aerial firefighting in the process. I didn’t pay attention back then, but I noticed the lack of airplanes when Tommy was giving Buck the tour in 7x04, so I went back and found the line from the TV reporter saying it was CAL FIRE.

I suspect that line was shoved in there last minute, because some technical consultants told them firefighting air tankers are never used in an urban environment, the weight of water/fire retardant can flatten cars, houses, it has gotten multiple people killed. I can think of more instances where the emergency seems unrealistic at first, but then there’s a passing line making it kind of possible, just exaggerated. I know we always joke about Tim writing soap opera level surreal emergencies, but I feel like all the other people involved in the making of this show don’t get enough credit, especially those designing the opening big disasters.

I’ve noticed multiple times that shortly after posting stuff about Tommy’s pilot career, a post would pop up in the tag asking people to stop obsessing over timeline. I paid them no mind before, they were probably not personal I thought, a subsection of the fandom does have the habit to use Tommy’s age to call him a predator. But this time, well, my theory was mentioned by name, so they were talking about me.

I can handle bad takes or even attacks from the toxic part of the fandom, I don’t value their opinion at all. Seeing rb after rb from people on our side of the fandom, some of whom I admire, basically telling me to stop being so obsessive over realism, being compared to fans who nitpick certain actors’ accents, tattoos, grooming choices, that one stings harder than I thought.

I know I’m being thin-skinned, I’m making everything about me, I’m fully aware that I’m a disaster. But I find myself hesitating to answer the other aviation related asks in my inbox, one of them particularly asking about the possibility of certain scenario in real life. I’m just not sure my input is welcomed here. I have this fear of unknowingly annoying people with my over-enthusiasm. I feel like that kid who keeps yapping about trains at school that everyone secretly hates again.

I just really, really love aviation. I thoroughly enjoy uniting these 2 things that I love and maybe learn new things from it. I don’t mean to impose. I was very excited this morning when I received asks in my inbox, but now it feels like being slammed back onto the ground, and it’s not a good feeling. I don’t know, maybe it’s time to uncouple these 2 things.

[roo-bastmoon]

Homage vs. Copying

So I'm not feeling super great these days, but I still dip into Jikook spaces for a quick hit of lovely serotonin and to check up on my friends. Alas, I see some folks raging in the tags that JK is stealing Jimin's original concepts because he's too stupid or lazy to come up with his own... I'm not having flashbacks to BTS' plagiarism scandal, I'm not. I have thoughts--and lots of photo examples--about this topic, under the cut. Let's get into it--and keep it civil, too.

First off--let's just establish that folks have the right to use the Jikook tag to both celebrate and critique Jikook and the fandom around Jikook. People get to write about what they want on their blogs. They get to rant, so long as no one is using hate speech and slurs. (The minute I see that shit, I quietly report.)

Clearly, folks who are angry at Jungkook (or Jimin) come into the Jikook tag because they want attention from Jikookers, and the best use of my time and energy is to self-police and block them. That way I am not infringing on their right to scream into the wind all they like, but I also don't have to hear the noise.

Second off, unless JK called any of us up and said: "Hey, guess what? After 10 years of evidence to the contrary, suddenly I'm incapable of original thought, so I just take advantage of Jiminie-hyung, whom I keep calling out and hyping up and praising and asking to spend time with and traveling with and whose style I also match in my personal life!" maaaaybe we give the benefit of the doubt, and at least entertain the possibility that Jungkook is expressing visual alignment with Jimin because he can't just openly claim him in other ways?

Like, I'm not saying that IS what's going on, because Jungkook doesn't call me up and tell me his thoughts, either. It's fine; I'm not mad. He doesn't even text Jin back. I am just saying we should maybe sit with the idea for a bit and really marinate on what that might mean for a queer couple.

(Or we could just take in things without pronouncing any opinions yet--ya know, until we get more data around Jungkook's choices and how Jimin feels about it.)

It's fine not to assume the similarities are romantic gestures; but it's also fine not to assume the worst--that JK is siphoning off Jimin like a leech. Jungkook was consulted by the Seven stylist and he got to be creative director for his Vogue shoot; he also had some say in his music videos and performance stages. He is making choices deliberately, and it makes no sense to me that he would choose to openly copy a bandmate out of laziness. He has a professional reputation to consider.

Rather, I think this is one of the few places where he has artistic license to tether a thread between him and Jimin. I think he's paying homage.

(Side note: In film and photography, an homage is an imitation of another work. At first glance, it may seem like an homage is a rip-off or a lesser copy, but it actually pays tribute to and honors the source work. Homage is a great way to use other filmmakers' styles and content to crystallize your unique voice as a filmmaker.)

So that's my currently theory about what's going on.

Yet, honestly? None of us really know WHY there's so much similarity in their looks these days. The similarities are now stacking up so much as to be undeniable, though.

Personally, I'm leaning to this being a celebration of the fact that Jikook have always shared similar tastes; it's one of the many ways they click. Jikook know that. The stylists know that. So yeah, when JK gets a chance to observe and emulate (and expound upon) Jimin's style, he does. Because Jimin is one of the coolest people in the world to him. So he shows this in his own creative work and in his own personal wardrobe.

Here's why I hold that opinion at the moment:

Could this all be the stylists choosing to recycle looks or throw bread crumbs to Jikookers? I guess.

Could this be Jungkook just borrowing from Jimin as a shortcut? I'm not sharing his brainwaves, so I can't tell you there's zero possibility.

But what seems more likely is that of all the artists in the world, Jimin is the one Jungkook has always kept his eyes on. Out of love and respect, not malice and opportunism.

Like with the 1108 and 13 numbers that THEY keep inserting into their own communications, these similarities in style is also an emerging pattern.

If you feel protective of Jimin, I understand why you'd be wary of so much similarity. But consider what we know of both Jimin and Jungkook over the past 10 years...

While neither of these human beings are perfect (and they will continue to make mistakes), they clearly love each other. And you don't steal from the people you love. But you do honor how amazing they are whenever you get the chance.

So maybe let's just hear JK out on this?

Okay, that's all the energy I have for this topic. I got deadlines and health tests to power through over the next few weeks. If you comment with your own ideas, that's cool--but please keep it respectful of Jikook and each other. I don't want to banhammer anyone but I will.

Love, Roo

PS Even if I'm not around much, you can be sure I'll buy and stream 3D, and I encourage you guys to give it a chance too! <3

[blackfilmmakers]

“Learning more from our cultural consultant Dr. Aomar Boum about the cultural traditions of the Amazigh people in North Africa, including their history of braiding and ornamenting long hair, inspired me to explore a box braids hairstyle for Asha.” -Bill Schwab

So y’all choose to showcase all this “research” by:

1) Ended up not giving Asha any hair ornaments, and a chance to give her a unique and distinct design that helps best represent her culture

2) Choosing micro “box braids” of all afro-based hairstyles to give to Asha, despite the fact that box braids wouldn’t even look like whatever y’all gave Asha. For one thing that particular style takes a lot of time and a lot of hair and a lot of work, all of which Asha would not have, nor do I think that’s even her character. It’s also not a common hairstyle people from North Africa would wear at this time. If they did it’s usually in 2-10 braids

3) Design said box braids in the movie in a way where it’s hard to tell whether they are braids or twists, and honestly I think they do a bit of both. Doesn't help their animation makes everything look muddy, so you really have a hard time telling. And no it's not because of poor YouTube quality, we've seen Disney provide us official screenshots from the movie, it just looks that bad. One side of her hair aren't even box braids, they are clearly cornrows. Not that we don't mix box braids and cornrows into our hair sometimes, but it's obvious yall just didn't care to make the distinction. Here's a hint to recognize box braids: they are parted in "box" sections

4)Making it seem like black hair is stiff and lifeless despite all the movement Asha be doing. There are plenty of references of black girls dancing with their braids yknow, moving. They couldn’t look at any references?

“It’s a fantasy it’s not meant to be accurate” ok then don’t bother consulting with anthropologists on this subject then. Don’t boast how much “research” you guys do only to show that’s not the case and you don’t even listen to the experts. Not that listening to one person is enough. You’re representing a group of people that hardly gets media coverage other than “bad desert brown person”. But I guess that's fitting Disney shows how little they care looking st the genocides they supporting

[jerirose]

I'm really bad at writing these and I'm not sure where to start... but I think I need help. As a large amount of you know in FEB 2023 I got COVID whilst on holiday. I am autoimmune and my body did not take kindly to it. I got it on the 3rd day of my holiday and spent the next two weeks in bed, flew back home (properly masked) with COVID and spent another week in bed with positive results. COVID took my voice for several months, from shredding my throat (I wasn't able to talk for 3 months afterwards and slowly had to gain back my ability to speak) and I gained a heart condition from it, along with breathing problems. I am still suffering, a year later from all of these, the last year has been an extremely difficult battle for me, along with my other illnesses, relearning my limits with my long COVID issues. I has taken away my ability to do the things I love, I used to spend everyday day painting almost all day, I can no longer do this because of chronic fatigue and I used to stream 6 days a week on a good week (I'd of called this my job, since I'm too ill to work), for 6 hours, now I am very limited in how much energy I can put into either. I finally have an appointment at a Post COVID Clinic... but I almost fell over when they told me the cost.. it's expensive and I have to pay up front (we are not sure if my insurance will cover it to get the money back - this we find out when I'm there), this is just the consult and I'm sure there will be follow ups that I have to pay for... If you can help even a little, even by boosting this post I would greatly appreciate it, it'd honestly mean the world to me. (Long) COVID has taken so much away from me, and I'd really like to be able to have a chance to get some normality back in my life. I've set up a Goal on Ko-Fi, if you can or would like to help.

[likeadeuce]

WIP Wednesday: you're on your own kid

(Challengers, Tashi + Art)

Art  got permission to take his exams early, packed up his stuff, and hung around long enough for a raucous and teary farewell party attended by most of the campus’s many athletes, who knew Art Donaldson as a friendly, reliable guy.  Tomorrow, he was going to fly to Spain, meet his parents and his training team, and catch the tail end of European grass court season. 

Tashi was going to finish her exams at the normal time in the normal way, ride back to New York with her parents, and then call her coach to confirm that she was quitting.  Not that it would come as a shock.  The school had given her a medical redshirt year to try everything with surgery and rehab, but that chance had passed, and there was no point in them holding the scholarship from someone who could use it.  If she wanted to stay in school here, her family could make the money work -- there had been insurance and savings, her business-minded parents never ones to put all their fragile dreams in one basket.  But Stanford without tennis was worse than nothing.  Her mom had gone to Wellesley and her dad to Howard; they took turns dropping hints about what awaited her down those paths: law school or consulting or maybe the Hill.  

(Tashi, who had hoarded her few, fragile dreams after all, tried not to feel betrayed when her loving parents could pivot so gracefully).

Maybe she wouldn’t call the coach.  Maybe texting was okay.  Email even better.  She never had to log back in to that account if she didn't want to.

But tonight, she and Art picked up some organic sodas and a Big Sur special from Pizza My Heart, threw everything in his stupid ragtop Jeep, and drove up into the foothills to watch the sun set over the valley.  

They spread the pizza box over the tailgate.  Tashi took out a big slice and folded it, savoring the grease and crunch for once.  Art followed her lead, which made her glad; he’d have nutritionists to measure his carbs for him soon enough.  He made (probably) innocent lustful noises over the food, then raised his soda in a toast.

“So what do you think you’ll do this summer?”

She was glad Art hadn’t asked what her plans were, a subtle difference that  would have felt judgmental since she didn’t have any.  This, she could answer honestly.   “Sulk,” she admitted.  “Find something to do for exercise that doesn’t kill my knee.  Swimming?  Tai chi? Maybe I’ll get a bike.  And, I don’t know, after that, maybe Dad has a point about the Howard thing.  D.C. is about as different as it gets from here.”

“A change might be good.”  He stretched and looked up into the cloudless sky,  almost nine o’clock and still brilliant blue overhead as bright colors touched the horizon.  The solstice was coming soon.  Tashi had always loved long days that meant more time to practice.  “Is it okay to say I’ll miss it here?” Art asked.

Art was afraid to say it because Tashi had gotten hurt so much here   Because it had been a wrong turn in her path.  Because she had tried to love this place and it hadn’t loved her back.  “You can say you’ll miss it,” Tashi granted him.  “I don’t know if I’m gonna believe it next week when you’re playing Roger Federer in fucking Mallorca, but you can say it.”

[ying-an-sanren]

TGCF AU IDEA

I have an idea for a modern AU... do you know those classic cop shows where there's always a detective and then someone who isn't really a cop and more like a consultant...

Imagine detective Xie Lian, who during the investigation of a complex murder case gets lead all the way to the city's most infamous and feared mafioso's doorstep.

At first Hua Cheng seems to be the likely culprit - he has the means, and if Xie Lian dug deep enough he would surely find a handful of motives! But when upon further investigation it turns out that the case leads a different way, and Hua Cheng is not the killer after all. Oh well, the best Xie Lian can do now is apologise for the inconvenience and hope that the head pf the Crimson Rain syndicate won't take it too personally. Surely he understands that Xie Lien is just doing his job.

Truth to be told, this was Xie Lian's first case after a years-long hiatus. In the past he used to be an aspiring and ambitious detective. But as such he seemed to have made enemies.

It tends to happen that after a string of victories, a failure is bound to come one day, and Xie Lian got to experience that too. At first it seemed that it was his own 'incompetence' that caused the failure. However, after some further investigation, the police found evidence that all pointed to foul play; fingerprints, personal belongings with pieces of DNA - all Xie Lian's.

Xie Lian naturally defended himself, and after arduously describing where he was, what he did, who could vouch for him, etc., he managed to clear his name. It was clear that somebody must have framed him. But the damage was already done.

The fact that one of the department's most aspiring investigators was now investigated on suspicion of murder and sabotage made the headlines, and Xie Lian's reputation was tarnished. The relatives of the victims demanded for him to be taken off the case - some even called for him to be fired - and there was just nothing that could be done. In the end, the head of the police department, Jun Wu, had no other choice but to strip Xie Lian off his badge.

Years have passed. Xie Lian has worked diligently, and finally he got a second chance. He knew that he was being carefully observed, so he couldn't make any mistakes for now.

But who could have predicted that this young, diligent detective would pique Chengzhu's interest? And the crime lord can't deny that solving crimes seems like an amusing pass-time activity.

And so, the next day when Xie Lian comes to work, he's greeted by the policemen that were supposed to secure the new crime scene and make sure that no civilians get close, clearly distraught, and explaining that they couldn't do anything! Xie Lian is confused at first, but when he steps behind the yellow tape, he finds the city's most infamous mafioso already waiting for him with two fresh hot cups of tea, and casually looking over the corpse and evidence.

The moment he spots Xie Lian, a charming smile that sends chills down the policemen's bones spreads on his face. "Good morning, detective Xie!"

Oh... Xie Lian is so dead... or fired. He honestly couldn't tell what was worse.

Feng Xin and Mu Qing were Xie Lian's former deputies and friends. After Xie Lian ended up fired, the two of them continued to climb higher, until they too earned their badges. Their specialisation was organised crime, and for months to no end they had been trying to bring down the notorious Crimson Rain syndicate. So imagine their surprise when they entered the office that day, only to find the head of the syndicate right there in flesh and blood - leaning over Xie Lian's desk!!!

Such an outrage! The city's most notorious crime lord invites himself right onto the police grounds and the whole building of officers can do nothing about it because, as Xie Lian awkwardly explained - with Hua Cheng smirking smugly from behind him - "Oh well, he's here as the new police consultant. He'll be my partner now."

Truth to be told, having Chengzhu himself on his side turned out to be quite useful. All it took was for the suspect to catch a glimpse of him, standing right behind that little twink of a detective, Xie Lian was able to get any information much quicker than usually. And if even then they were hesitant to talk - well, detective Xie might have been a law-abiding citizen, but Hua Cheng wasn't above using more unconventional means whenever Xie Lian wasn't looking. Aside from that, Hua Cheng was also the reason why Xie Lian could now walk freely through the crime-oriented areas unscathed.

For Hua Cheng this was at first just a way to pass time, and get closer to the pretty gege, but deeper into the investigation he started noticing that something was clearly on Xie Lian's mind.

The truth was that even though Xie Lian's friends told him to get rid of all the notes and files connected to that old case that got him fired, he didn't do it. He kept them all as a memento. And now, although he wasn't sure about it at first, more and more it appeared that this new case is somehow connected to the old one.

Hua Cheng noticed it. He had been spending so much time with Xie Lian that he could already tell when he was troubled.

None of them noticed at first, but the time they were spending together was starting to influence both of them. Xie Lian used to view the world in black ad white, but Hua Cheng opened him a whole new view. Hua Cheng himself, who was so used to being a hard and ruthless criminal, got to experience some completely mundane things, like brainstorming together, or sharing a lunch. He would also often drive Xie Lian home, because Xie Lian couldn't afford a new car after his old one broke down.

It was one of those evenings when they both sat in Hua Cheng's car, that the crime lord noticed the cloud of worry casting its shade on the detective's face. And that night he decided that instead of throwing Xie Lian at his apartment as usual, he would take him to his residence. After all, it looked like the last thing Xie Lian needed right now was to be alone.

Xie Lian was surprised at first, but he allowed Hua Cheng to invite him in. Just for tonight. They had some wine, and Xie Lian ended up telling Hua Cheng about the old case, and about the suspicions he had, that it could be somehow connected to the new one. For the first time Xie Lian had someone who had listened to him, other than the walls of his flat.

Xie Lian wasn't used to alcohol. He did drink after he lost his job, but he has been abstaining ever since. The thing was that at this moment he couldn't help it. Hua Cheng's presence and proximity made him feel a little flustered, which prompted him to drink more and more.

His colleagues had actually commented that sometimes it almost seemed like Hua Cheng was flirting with him. Xie Lian always dismissed them. It just seemed foolish. But he couldn't deny that sometimes he was enjoying Hua Cheng's presence a bit too much.

He didn't know whether it was just his imagination, but whenever some of the informants and suspects tried to flirt with Xie Lian, Hua Cheng would turn outright wicked with them. He would stand so close to Xie Lian that the detective could feel his breath on his nape, and his hand snaking around his waist.

Whenever that happened, Xie Lian could feel heat rising into his face, but he silently reprimanded himself. He shouldn't think like that! San Lang is just... being San Lang... he shouldn't take it seriously, or he might get the wrong idea.

But this time the alcohol did its wonders on both of them, and before Xie Lian knows it, his lips are captured by Hua Cheng's in a heated kiss. The kiss was passionate, yet tender, Xie Lian couldn't help but succumb. His thoughts melted away, and with them the weighed that has been burdening his shoulders for so long melted as well...

I don't know how tumblr would like me sharing nsfw content here, so if you wanna know how their night went on, I uploaded it to ao3 as well, but pls read the note for the chapter in case theres something you don't like reading about :) (I hope the link shows the right chapter... Its a collection of short fics and the cop drama AU should be chapte 9 Good Cop, Bad Mob)

[mtjester]

Choose Y(our) Own Adventure #003 — Negotiate the amount of help you’re willing to give

<-#001 <-<-#002

#004–>

—————

You clear your throat. “You shouldn’t expect much from me,” you say. “I don’t…do that kind of thing anymore.”

Koriena deflates slightly, but hie doesn’t look surprised. Hier eyes flicker to the four thin scars that cut white lines in the short fur on your face. “I heard a little bit about that,” hie admits. “They said you would be hard to convince.” Your chest tightens.

“Mm,” is all you can think to say. Thankfully, your food arrives, and Koriena is immediately distracted by the new cuisine. You’re granted the excuse not to talk for several minutes while hie samples hier food and chatters excitedly to hierself. Hier enthusiasm slowly takes the edge off your anxiety. “You don’t eat out much, huh?” you say, the corner of your lip turning up despite yourself.

“Oh, no, not really,” hie admits. “The kinclan shares the currency, you know? We don’t spend lightly.”

“Yeah, I remember.” You prop your chin up on your fist. “…How long exactly have they been gone?”

“It’d be…two standard septerms,” hie replies. Hie eyes you. “Are you considering it?”

You hate that you are. The longer you stay in this stranger’s presence, remembering what life used to be like, the more you feel your resolve waver. Hie reminds you of home. “I…have worked hard to get where I am,” you say, breaking eye contact and picking at your food. “The project I’m working on right now, it’s a big deal embassy for an important interplanetary trade partner. It’s—well, it means a lot to me to succeed, because…honestly, I’m not that good at any of it, and I’ve had to fight for every little success I’ve had since I left the clanship…”

You risk a glance up. Koriena’s watching you closely, waiting for you to finish with apprehension. Your voice dies in your throat. When it becomes clear that you aren’t going to continue, hie says, “I’m sure it’s been hard. I promise I won’t get in the way! But just…something? Please? Just tell me what I need to do, please. I’ll make it up to you, any inconvenience at all—I can help you build this embassy, even, but please…”

You can’t help but breathe out a laugh. “I’m not sure you could help with that,” you say. You pause and then sigh. “Well, I can at least help you find out what happened.”

“Yes!” Koriena says immediately, sitting forward. “Yes, please!”

You hesitate. “Listen, I’ve never heard of an entire ship getting spirited away before. I’m not even sure it’s possible. So be prepared for the chance that it’s something other than the Fair Folk.”

Hie shakes hier head. “Your elder said it’s definitely a spiriting away.”

“Well, we need to confirm that,” you say. “Especially if hie’s sick. That can impact Sight.”

“Your kin said you’re even better at it than hie is,” Koriena says eagerly. “So you can find out?”

You grimace. “I’m not…better at it. I don’t think anyone can be better at it.”

“But you can?”

“…Yes.”

[angst-king]

Betrayal Beyond Repair pt2

(CW mild description of injuries, nightmares, and panic attacks

“Sera? Why did you tell me to come to the meeting room?” Emily asked as she opened the door.

“Close the door behind you.” Sera’s cold voice demanded, Emily nodded and quickly did as told before turning to see the room filled with multiple high ranking angels. Without even a second to speak a set of handcuffs were materialized around her wrist and chained her to the table in the center of the room.

“S-Sera what’s happening?!” She asked with fear filling her words as she shrunk under the many eyes glaring down at her.

“You have been putting your nose where it does not belong and spreading dangerous ideas among the public. That is why you are here.” Her journal appeared on the table before them all, had she gone through it again?

“You went through my journal again, Sera? Wasn’t one time enough?” “So you admit you had secrets to keep?” “I-I was frustrated, its what I do, I write my feelings and things I need to think about in. Y-you know this Sera” Emily whimpered out as the high Seraphim stared down at her.

“You have been going around and pulling for information about the exterminations and heaven’s ways. Your ideas not only go against it but are dangerous for those who want to keep their paradise. This is heaven, they had many times during their lives to fix themselves yet they chose to continue to live in sin. You do not get to decide who stays and goes.”

“You don’t even know what gets a soul into heaven!” Emily shouted back.

“My thoughts and ideas may be childish but am I wrong? You saw during the trial no one knew what gets a soul into heaven! So how sure are we, and look at the people! They are blind, you are keeping things from them! This place is supposed to be perfect, but perfection does not exist!”

“Emily. You get those ideas from the slimy snake man, the one who is supposedly redeemed. A man who has most likely murdered many during his life and done horrific things, yet you question why ones like him should be in hell.”

“Sirpentious is a wonderful man, he is sweet, and he talks about his inventions and his girlfriend. Sure i may not know everything he’s ever done but, what matters now is that the system works. Redemption is what was intended-”

“Emily-”

“Sera, think, if that were not the case he would not have made it no matter his efforts.” The girl pleaded with hope in her eyes, the angels of the court seemed to be on the fence with their expression.

“So you think we can just let anyone say they want redemption and allow them in? How do you know their efforts are genuine, how do you know they aren’t trying to infiltrate? If you are so close with this man that he’s comfortable bringing up his girlfriend who is a sinner much like him, how do you know this isn’t their plan?”

“Because you make decisions without consulting anyone. You don’t bother to ask questions” “Because I shouldn't have to ask questions, questioning is what gets you into dangerous situations. I believe in what is right and as to the others and letting these folk in on groundless bases when they could revert anytime they want is insane. Putting many of those who got here due to pure nature and good well beings on the first try. That is selfish and insane!”

“Sera please, you see it has worked, and we’ve kept a close eye on him. Why wont you believe me-”

“Honestly Emiliana I expected better from you! To so easily go against us and allow a sinner to taint your thoughts…maybe its better that you join those you want to “help” so much.” Emily’s eyes went wide as she knew what her sister was implying, shaking her head she begged for Sera to listen to her. Even as the guards unchained her from the table and dragged her away.

She screamed, thrashing and kicking from the battle angel’s grip. With a lash ditch effort she bolted towards Sera with tears running down her face crying for another chance.

“Please Sera, please! I won't say anything, I won't talk with Sirpentious, I’ll do anything just please! Please don’t let them hurt me, sister! Please Sera, don't do this!” Sera stood from her seat and walked over to the princess and replied coldly.

“As of now you are no longer, my sister.” A hand yanked Emily by her hair out of the room as she screamed out.

“SERA PLEASE!”

“Emily! Emily wakes up. Wake up!” Her eyes shot open while she continued to plead to be left unharmed.

“Ey ey, it's okay, you’re safe Emily” The bedside light clicked on revealing Charlie and Vaggie being the ones calling her name.

“Another nightmare?” Charlie asked while sitting on the end of the bed, Emily nodded and apologized for waking them.

“It's okay, we were already going to check on you and got worried when we heard crying.” Charlie reassured, Vaggie suggested having a bath, of course Emily couldn’t do it herself, still too weak. In the bathroom once she was undressed Vaggie and Charlie felt their hearts tear apart as they saw the still healing injuries exposed once the bandages came off. Multiple stab wounds, gashes, bruises, and claw marks. Her wings were shredded badly with many scars along her back.

Denial had set into Emily’s mind quickly, she couldn’t believe her sister would do this. That she would allow for her to be harmed to this extent and to be thrown into hell almost left for dead! The very person she trusted for this long put her through this all because she started to question things. Things that Sera hardly ever answered or shut down.

“why?….Why would she do this?” Her hoarse voice quivered out as she wiped away tears.

“I’m sorry this happened, Emily.” “Sh-she even denounced me as her sister right b-before th-they…they…” The lump in her throat choked her up, though Charlie and Vaggie knew what she was trying to say.

“Well, Emily, you’re welcome here for as long as you’d like.” Charlie smiled while preparing to take Emily back into the bedroom.

“Y-you sure?” “Yes, I’m sure, you’re not the first angel who’s been thrown down here.” Vaggie added as she helped Emily to her feet changing into a new set of clothes. Emily gave a grateful smile to their aid and kindness while also silently thanking Sirpentious for the directions of how to get into Pride's city.

“You won't ever be alone, Emily, we’re here to help you anyway we can.”

Looking in the mirror her hands combing through her freshly washed hair, happy to finally have all of the blood out of it. Still with some of it singed or cut in some places she needed to fix it. Going through a drawer she found a pair of scissors and started cutting away at her hair until it reached her neck. Taking some of the layers away revealed a small set of horns. She was surprised to see there wasn’t much of a change to her appearance by now, maybe for some it wasn’t immediate?

It was freeing to not have so much hair for once.

A couple more days went by and Emily still struggled to accept her fate yet she started to grow comfortable around those in the hotel little by little. She would often listen to Husk tell stories about sinners or about living world things or share music between her and Angel-Dust. Angel-Dust was a little surprised she liked his taste in music. Thankfully by now Nifty had gone off her murdering-angels-frenzy and would sometimes introduce Emily to movies she liked when she wasn’t cleaning.

Lucifer had been keeping an eye on the girl and had Charlie keep him updated on how she was doing. He knew just how jarring it could be to casted from heaven especially in such a violent manner. She told him about the nightmares Emily would have almost nightly but besides that she seemed to be adjusting better than expected.

“Emily, may I talk with you?” Lucifer asked while pardoning himself from interrupting Emily and Angel's music exchange. Emily nodded with a smile and followed him through a portal that led to his castle. Inviting her into his office and through the balcony.

“Would you like something to drink?” He asked, Emily settled herself in a chair while she looked up at the sky.

“Do you have frozen hot chocolate?” With a snap of his fingers he materialized a cup at the girl’s request.

“Thank you, so um…King Lucifer what did you want to talk about?” She inquired, Lucifer gave a soft chuckle replying with.

“Oh ouch Emily I didn’t think you’d call me that, I thought we were friends” His voice filled with playfulness as he feigned hurt. This got a giggle out of her while he continued.

“You can just call me Lucifer, Emily, no need for formalities.” He strutted closer observing her body gently.

“Well first I’m going to ask how you’ve been doing, I see you’re healing rather well. I was worried for a while, your injuries were horrific!”

“Yeah it still hurts a bit in certain places but, much better than before.” She gave a grateful smile to him as she sipped on her drink.

“Another thing I wanted to ask, how have you been doing? I know it can be hard to cope with being down here.” He backed up leaning against the balcony railing. Emily gave a small shrug at this.

“I’m fine I guess, just getting used to it.” Lucifer raised a brow at this but went along with it.

“Ya know, when I first ended up down here with Lilith, I had nightmares every single night for months almost years. I couldn’t fully believe they had even done it either.” Emily nodded along attentively as he spoke.

“It got to a point where I would be too afraid to sleep or leave the castle…Sometimes I often view this place as my eternal punishment that I deserved. The memory of them holding my dear Lilith from me, trying to convince her that I had poisoned her mind, and to try and see the light. To say I was furious was an understatement.” He dryly chuckled at the end as he looked up at the sky seeing the glowing ball that was heaven.

“L…Lucifer…if you had a chance to go back, would you?”

“Well…if you asked me a couple hundred or so years ago, I’d say ‘yes’ without a doubt, I’d leave this all behind for heaven in an instant … .but now…I wouldn’t trade a thing for that place. I may not exactly like my job down here but. I have found ways to make it more than bearable…” Turning back to Emily he returned the question.

“Would you?” There was a moment of silence and then a sigh.

“I-I don’t know. Of course…I miss my home, I miss what I had there, I miss the familiarity. I just now that I see what they’ve been doing. I just can’t stand for what they do or want.”

“I understand, you want what’s supposed to be your home but now it doesn’t feel like home anymore.”

“Yeah, exactly…and I-I still can’t believe Sera organized it all and the things she said.” Her voice wobbled and cracked as the memories from her dreams and the day they had exiled her came flooding in. She held onto her cup tightly, her eyes all though teary looked empty yet filled with hurt at the same time. She hadn't even noticed she was starting to hyperventilate as she stammered. Lucifer made haste to pull her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her and rubbing small circles into her back. He could feel her entire body turn ice cold, shaking like a leaf in the wind.

“Hey now, it's alright Emily. No one’s going to hurt you, I know you’re scared. I’m right here, I’ve got you.” He took the cup from her hands and placed it on a small table beside her, this freed her hands enough for her to hold onto him tightly as she cried.

“Why why why, why would she do this? Why would she hurt me? What did I do to deserve this?” Lucifer frowned as he listened to the heavenly princess’s sobs.

“You did nothing wrong Emily. You didn’t deserve what happened to you.” He reassured softly, Lucifer hated to see her like this. He remembered how cheerful and full of life she used to be. He remembered when she was small, she would run up to him and show him any drawings she used to make. He always cherished them too, he saw her like a daughter, she was so similar to Charlie it felt like he was holding his own daughter in his arms.

After a minute he started to hum a soft song he used to sing to Charlie when she was small. Rocking side to side while he hummed slowly, Lucifer stayed like this until he was sure she was breathing better.

“You will never be alone Emily, you will find yourself again, and you will have people there to help you.”

Just as Lucifer pulled away he magicked up a polar bear plush into Emily’s arms that gave a soft smell of peppermint.

“I know how much you like winter, so I thought you’d like this.” Looking down and seeing the teddy bear in her arms, she cracked a smile and hugged the plush noticing the scent added to it.

“Thank you, Lucifer.” “Any time, Emily.”

[mzannthropy]

Sam Claflin and the Ageism Comments

I've been meaning to make this post for... well, months now, the reason why I've been dragging my feet on it is that, honestly, it's such a non issue for me, but I just cannot abide how fucking stupid people can be.

So, what's up with all the "Sam Claflin looks too old on Daisy Jones and The Six", "Sam Claflin has aged" comments?

If these comments came only from incels of 4chan and Reddit, I wouldn't have thought anything of it, bc that's the type of stuff I expect from them. But, disappointingly, they came from DJATS fans.

Also just the sheer perplexity over people being surprised that a person is, gasp, ten years older than what they were ten years ago. Therefore, I have to speak up.

More under the cut.

Around the time DJATS was released, I re-listened to the audiobook, and I distinctly remember Daisy saying, upon meeting Billy for the first time, that he had lines around his eyes, even though he couldn't have been older than 29. Sam was 35 during the filming of DJATS, so yeah, he is older than his character, but I don't understand why this would be such a huge problem? Actors often play characters younger than them, but it's not just that. Maybe they couldn't find a suitable 29yo actor to play Billy, which is not an easy role. (Even Sam didn't get it on the first try, but they gave him a chance bc they knew he was good.) Also I just don't see what difference the ages of characters make in this story. They could be anything from late 20s to late 30s, even early 40s. It's a documentary about a band, not a coming of age story. I think that... it seems to me (and I could be wrong in my assessment) that for whatever reason, this fanbase is really young. (Didn't the book blow up on tiktok?) Maybe they presumed the characters would be closer to their own age, especially as gen z have this weird thing when it comes to age. I don't know. It's bizarre.

So what did Sam really look like on DJATS? Well, most of all, he lost a lot of weight. And sometimes it happens that when a person loses a lot of weight, depending on how thin they get, it might age them. I don't know how you can expect someone to get down to a size where they've left with hollow cheeks without this making them look older. In addition, Billy is a recovering alcohol/drug addict. Those things are generally not good for you.

So even if Sam did look older on DJATS--what does it matter? Is it not bringing the character to life that matters, the talent, the hard work he put in becoming Billy? Learning to play a whole musical instrument, making sure to get it right with regards to his character's struggle with addiction, by consulting the people who worked with actual rockstars who had the struggles in the 70s? Is that not what it is about?

If you only like films and shows with young people under a certain age, then watch those. There's plenty of YA out there for you to peruse.

Sam has been in the business since 2010. In that time he played such a variety of roles that a chunk of the audience don't even realise it's the same guy. He likes challenging himself, he has lost and gained weight as his roles demanded.

Sam is 37 now and he looks exactly how a normal 37yo man would look. He's just more handsome than most. He is a very down-to-earth person and doesn't hang out with the Hollywood elite. He doesn't shoot up his face with botox. And good thing he doesn't. I'd rather have him with a few lines in his face than lose that smile, his most valuable asset.

I'd like to bring attention to another feature of Sam, not something that perhaps many notice, and not something you'd immediately notice when it comes to Sam, bc he mostly keeps them in his pockets--his hands.

These are not the hands of a person that looks too old.

But hey, it's okay. You don't have to like Sam. There's plenty of young male celebs for you to fawn over. Us oldies will keep Sam, thank you very much.

(Note: yes I know women get it worse, but I made this post about Sam.)

[hbyrde36]

Chapter 11!

Steve Harrington: Vampire Hunter

ao3 link

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

It didn’t take long after Eddie’s big announcement for the sharks to start circling. A few days after the press conference, Steve found himself in a pre-dawn meeting with two members of the most prolific vampire hate group in the country, Humans Against Vampires. The early hour of the appointment was by Steve's own choice. The logic being that he could take the meeting after he finished his actual job for the evening, raising zombies, and then be free to go home and get eight hours or so of uninterrupted sleep. He had also, maybe, wanted to make it as inconvenient and unpleasant as possible for the client in question.

The woman, Connie Frazier, was familiar to Steve. He’d seen her before at protests, and even once down at the precinct when he was consulting with Hopper on a case. She was notorious for going too far and getting herself arrested. She looked like someone's mother, innocent and unassuming until she opened her mouth to spew hatred.

“I was surprised to find your name in my books, Ms. Frazier, I thought you hated us zombie raisers almost as much as the vampires. At least, that’s what you told me the last time we saw each other. I believe you called me a… Satan loving devil worshiper.” Steve snorted a laugh as he thought about how ironic that line had been, considering he’d been wearing the same silver cross around his neck then that was peeking out from the gap in his button-down shirt now.

“We’re here to enlist your help, Mr. Harrington.” The man interjected quickly, not giving his female companion the chance to rise to Steve’s bait. He appeared to be a bit older than Frazier, his entire head of hair already gone completely gray. He had a kind face and eyes that betrayed a hint of intelligence, which was refreshing.

“And you are?” Steve asked. The man’s name hadn’t been included with the notes left behind by their night secretary. 

“Sam Owens.” He answered, leaning forward to offer his hand. 

Steve was caught off guard by the polite gesture, but luckily muscle memory kicked in and he took the man's hand, shaking it over the desk. He hadn’t known what to expect from this meeting, but he certainly hadn’t anticipated civility. 

Frazier sat quiet in her seat, ringing her hands and picking at her fingernails. It was distracting.

“What’s got her so nervous?” Steve asked Owens, well aware that he was coming off like an asshole by directing the question at her male counterpart. He just really didn’t like the woman.

She huffed at the offense. “If you must know, Harrington, I don't like this. I’m not used to asking for help from people like you.”

Steve raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing. Honestly it was tame for her, he’d expected worse. 

Owens jumped in again, trying to steer the conversation even as his partner put her foot in her mouth.  “We’re in the process of starting up a new group, an offshoot of HAV that we’re calling Humans First. Both groups share a common goal, to rid the world of the vampire threat, but whereas the original organization’s goal is to make vampirism illegal again, our members are willing to use a slightly more…direct approach.”

“What does that mean, more direct?” Steve asked.

“You know what we mean.” Frazier said with a sneer. “You just don’t want to help us.”

“Help you do what?” Steve wasn’t dumb, he had some idea of what they were getting at, but if they wanted to have this conversation, he wasn’t going to let them dance around it, they would have to spell it out.  

She sighed, as if it was all too obvious for words. “Our organization has been at this for two years, since the moment the vote swung in the wrong direction, we have tried it all. We have protested in front of the courthouses, we have tried to discredit vampires in the media, and written countless letters to our senators. None of it is working. We are no closer now than we were the day those monsters became legal citizens. Humans first is a group of like minded individuals who are tired of waiting for the system to correct its mistake. We want to destroy them all.”

Steve blinked at her. “You want to murder all of the vampires in the United States?”

She smiled maniacally. “Yes.”

“You are a vampire hunter and executioner, do you really believe it’s murder?” Owens asked. 

He didn’t sound crazed like his associate, just genuinely curious. Still, Steve clenched his jaw, wishing he’d refused this meeting. He’d only agreed to it to keep the peace with his father. He knew that not long ago the answer to the man’s question would have been an easy no, it wasn’t murder. They were the monsters, how could it be a crime to protect the public from them? 

Now though, he wasn’t so sure. Dustin had proved to him that some vampires could be good, and Eddie, well, his feelings there were too complicated to be helpful. 

Steve settled on replying with, “That’s what the law says.” It was a cop out, a politician's answer, but it was safer than simply saying, I don’t know. It was also true. No matter what his personal feelings were, Steve had always followed the law, until Billy at least, though a case could be made for self defense on that one. Besides, he didn’t owe these two a window into his personal crisis of conscience.

“Forget the law.” Frazier retorted. “It’s clear that the government no longer cares about its human citizens. At this very moment they are trying to push through legislation that will give those killers the right to vote! Doesn’t that scare you?”

“Kinda of.” Steve answered with a half-shrug “But, as citizens they should have the right to vote about things that affect them, just like we do.” 

Frazier scoffed and Owens gave her a sharp look. He was definitely the more reasonable of the two, or at least the more socially adept.

“Look, we’re not asking you to get your hands dirty.” Owens began. “We just want to know where the master of the city spends his daylight hours. No one has to know where the information came from.”

Steve's heart started to race, but he attempted to hide his sudden tension with a smirk. “Right. So your big ‘kill all vampires’ plan is going to kick off here? From our little city? Why not start with the leader of New York, or L.A.?”

Owens tilted his head in recognition of the fair question. “By choosing to come forward, Eddie is poised to become the most famous vampire in the country. He may not lead the largest city, but killing him will send the biggest message.”

It was exactly what Steve had been afraid of. Why had Eddie put himself in the spotlight like this? He had to have known it would attract bad attention along with the good.

“Okay, I'll grant you that, but what makes you think I have the information you’re after?” Steve asked.

Frazier scoffed. “Don’t play games, we know you are acquainted with him.”

Steve fought not to react. The only people who knew about his tie to Eddie were Robin, and the vampires themselves. Potentially the wererats too, but none of them would have talked to these people voluntarily.

“I don’t know where you got that intel from, but it’s wrong. I’m sorry, unless you have a zombie you’d like me to raise, I can’t help you.” He said, as calmly and evenly as he could manage.

“Can’t or won’t?” Frazier challenged.

“Honestly? Both.” Steve replied. “I mean, what is the plan here guys? Say you do find out the resting place, do you think you can just walk right in there and stab him through the heart?”

“Yes.” She answered quickly, and with conviction.

Steve shook his head. The idea was ridiculous on some level, unless they had some well trained people on their side, humans didn't stand a chance. Still, he felt a sense of dread at the idea of anyone going after Eddie like that.

Owens narrowed his eyes, studying Steve thoughtfully. “You don’t think we can do it. Is that the problem?” 

“I know you can’t. He’d kill you before you got anywhere near him.”

“Don’t lie and act like you are trying to protect us, Harrington. It’s that blood sucker you’re protecting, isn’t it?!” Frazier raged.

“Connie!” Owens said her name like an order and it instantly silenced her. He turned to Steve with an apologetic smile as he rose from his chair, the woman quickly following suit. “We appreciate your input, and the fact that you took this meeting, but I can see we’re not going to get anywhere today. I wonder though, if we came up with a better plan, would you be willing to see us again?”

Steve shrugged. “Sure.”

He didn’t really want to see them again, truth be told, but he knew he would catch shit from Bert if it got back to him that he refused. It could be worth it to keep an eye on them anyway, so he’d know what they were up to if they ever decided to move forward with their plan.

Steve raced home. The sun was minutes away from breaking over the horizon and all he wanted was to get inside before the first rays of dawn could make their appearance. He had just pulled into the driveway, hand on his keys, ready to shut off the ignition, when his cell phone rang with a familiar tone.

He let out a deep sigh. Oh well, the break had been nice while it lasted. He let the call connect to the car.

“Mornin’ Hop.”

“Hey, kid. Sorry If I woke you.”

“You didn’t. I just got home from work.”

“Shit. I'm even sorrier then. We’ve got a body here that I need you to come take a look at.” 

Steve glanced at the clock. It was after 6AM and he was exhausted, but as long as the crime scene wasn’t too far away, he could probably go check it out and still manage at least 5 hours of sleep before he had to be back at work, give or take. 

Normally Steve would ask questions, try to get some details or context for whatever he was about to get himself into, but he was just too tired. “Text me the address, I'll be there as soon as I can.”

It took 40 minutes to reach the quiet suburban neighborhood that rested on the outskirts of the city. Even without GPS it would have been easy to find the address he was looking for. The street was crawling with police, an ambulance, and a lot of gawkers. 

The body was laid out face up in the front yard of a nice upper-middle-class house. The victim was male, somewhere in his late 30’s or early 40’s. Everything about him was average, from his build, to his medium brown hair, and his nondescript collared shirt and khaki pants. The only thing that did stand out was the multiple vampire bites he was sporting on different parts of his body. 

It was clear that the man been dumped there after the attack. The scene was far too clean. The body had been almost completely drained and yet there was no blood in the grass around or below him. No vampire was that neat of an eater.

“Tell me again, Steve, why won’t this guy come back as a vampire?” Hopper asked.

“As far as we know, it takes three bites from the same vampire over a short period of time, say a week, with the final bite ending in death to make the transition. I’m seeing at least three different sizes of bites here, Hop, and it looks to me like they are all brand new. None of them show signs of healing.”

“What do you make of it then?” 

“I think it was a group of them. At least three different vampires feeding off the same victim at the same time.”

“Is that common?”

“No, actually. It’s extremely unusual. Vampires tend to be solitary hunters. I can only think of a few reasons for it. Either someone was training a newbie vamp and things got out of hand, although that would mean only one or two different bites, or there's a master and his flock who’s gone off the rails. It just feels too…neat and controlled, there has to be someone in charge here.”

“Master? like the Master of the City, master?”

“Not necessarily. Being a master vampire just means they’ve reached a certain higher level of power beyond the norm. The Master of the City is a title given to the leader of a city, usually the most powerful vamp in a metropolitan area.”

“Right, sorry. I’m sure you’ve explained it to me before, I just hate this shit.”

Steve nodded. He didn’t mind teaching the older man the ropes. Hopper had been a cop for much longer than Steve had been a vampire hunter, but the older man was completely new to the supernatural world. There was definitely a learning curve. 

Steve found himself thinking back on his meeting earlier. This was just the sort of fodder the hate groups needed to further their cause. So much about this crime scene didn’t make sense. Whoever had killed this man had made the choice to leave him out on display to be found. It was as if the killer, or killers wanted the police to know they were out there. But why? 

“What is it, kid?”

Steve worried at his bottom lip. “The only master level vamps I’m aware of that are supposed to be in town right now are that cult leader Jason Carver, and Eddie.”

“Do you like either of them for this?”

As much as he’d love to see that prick Jason get taken forcibly down from his pedestal, he was fairly certain the guy wasn’t going around killing innocents for fun, and no matter what he thought of Eddie, the guy was smarter than this. Even if he or one of his people had killed a human, they would have hidden the body, not left it out to be found this way. It was bad for business.

“Honestly? No. But, as the two most powerful vamps in the city, they should know if there's another master wandering around. They’d be able to sense the other’s power. It could be worth a shot to ask them about it. If they don’t know anything, then, in a few nights I can raise our victim here as a zombie and see what he remembers about his attackers.”

“You can do that, even with a vampire victim?”

“In this case I can. If the guy was going to transition and rise as a vampire, then it wouldn’t work. The body would already be spoken for, in a sense, but with the way this went down, there's no chance of that happening.”

“Alright.” Hopper nodded. “I’ll see about visiting Carver tonight for a little interview.”

“I can handle talking to Eddie, er, the Master of the City, for you. If you want.” Steve stuttered. 

“You know you’re not actually a cop, right?”

Steve grit his teeth. He didn’t even know why he had offered. He was meant to be staying away from the vampire, not volunteering to interview him about a fucking murder! But he couldn’t take the offer back now. If there was some new dangerous vampire in town he needed to know about it ASAP, for…Dustin’s sake. 

“No, but seeing as he’s not really a suspect and more of a contact. I didn’t think it would be an issue.”

Hopper raised an eyebrow. He looked suspicious, skeptical at best. 

“He’ll talk to me, Hop,” Steve assured him, “and he might share things with me that he wouldn’t in front of the police.”

Steve was 99% sure he was right about that. Things hadn’t ended well between him and Eddie, that much was true, but the vampire wasn’t the one who had cut off contact, Steve was. Right up till the end Eddie had tried to keep things open ended. You know where to find me if you change your mind, he had said. So yeah, Steve thought there was a good chance that Eddie would see him, he’d just have to make sure the vampire knew it was for strictly professional reasons.

“Why’s that?” Hopper asked.

The question snapped Steve back out of his thoughts abruptly. Hopper was staring at him, and Steve knew it wasn’t the first time he’d asked the question. 

He felt his cheeks start to warm as he cleared his throat. “We have mutual acquaintances.”

“Hmpf” Hopper grumbled. “Fine, I'll let you take a crack at him on your own, but you call me if you run into any trouble.”

Steve felt like he should have crossed his fingers behind his back when he responded, “Of course,” because he absolutely would not be doing that. 

Steve made the call to his office as he drove home, dreading the conversation he was about to have with his father, but wanting to get it over with. With any luck, Bert Harrington wouldn’t be in, and he’d be able to leave a message about needing the night off with the daytime secretary, Gary.

He picked up on the second ring, and he must have checked the caller ID before answering because he greeted Steve by name. 

“Good Morning, Stevie! Shouldn’t you be asleep at this hour?”

Steve cringed at the nickname. Gary had been harboring a crush on him for years. Normally he ignored it. He wasn’t trying to be mean or anything, he just wasn’t interested, and he’d never been good at letting people down. This morning however, maybe he could use the guy’s infatuation to his advantage. 

“I know.” Steve giggled, and far from flirty, it sounded deranged. Had he completely lost his touch? “I’m heading home for bed as we speak, I promise, but listen, something’s come up and I'm not going to be able to make it in tonight.”

“Oooh”” Gary cooed. “Please tell me it’s at least for fun, like a date or something... Are you seeing anyone right now?”

“Oh, it’s not, um, no, actually I'm not.” Steve wanted to slam his forehead into the steering wheel. He was so bad at this.

“Interesting, because I was thinking, we’ve never hung out outside of work, maybe we could grab a drink sometime?” Gary asked.

He could hear the lascivious smile in the other man’s voice, and it sent an unpleasant shiver down his spine.

Abort! Abort! 

“Yea, y’know I don’t really drink, so, about me needing the night off, could you help with that?”

“I wish I could Steve, but you know your dad gave us all strict orders that he wants to personally handle any future call-outs from you.” Gary’s tone had gone a little cold, and Steve couldn’t blame him after that horribly botched performance.

Steve cleared his throat nervously. “Right. Well, thanks anyway I guess. Is he in?”

“Unfortunately. Hold please.”

That went well.

He cringed as the office’s on hold music blared through his car speakers. A horrible instrumental version of careless whisper attacked him from all sides. The car swerved as he lunged forward to turn the volume down to a more tolerable level. It was good timing too as his father’s voice came barking out of the stereo few short seconds later.

“Steven, what is this nonsense I hear about you needing the night off? You have clients to see this afternoon and four appointments at the cemetery! ”

“I know, Dad, but I'm just getting home from a crime scene. I haven't even been to bed yet. I...”

“Oh, well why didn’t you say so.” Bert interrupted. “I can get someone to cover your afternoon meetings with new clients, that’s always easy enough. Then you only have to show up graveside. You’ll have plenty of time to sleep.”

Steve was taken aback, it wasn’t like his dad to be reasonable, but sadly getting a decent amount of sleep wasn’t his only problem. “I appreciate that, but I have to conduct an interview tonight for the investigation.”

“We talked about this. You have to stop letting all this other nonsense take you away from your real job! It’s almost Halloween, you know this is our busy season.”

“I’m so sorry that a man’s death has inconvenienced you. I'll ask the murderer to pick a better time of the year next time! You do remember, Dad, that it was originally your idea to loan me out to the police, right?”

“I thought it would be good publicity, and it has been! It makes people think better of what we do here when they read about one of us helping out the community.”

Steve didn’t like the way he said, we and us. There was no we. His dad was a glorified business manager with no magic to speak of. He’d never missed an hour of sleep in his life and certainly never got his hands dirty.

His dad continued. “I’m not sure it’s worth it anymore if it’s going to take up so much of your time. We’re busy enough anyway, it’s not as if we need the publicity anymore. I want you to tell Hopper you’re done consulting for him.”

Steve wasn’t having that, he’d quit first. “No. I’m not going to do that, someone was murdered and they need my help to solve it.”

After a long pause, Bert let out a barely restrained shout. “God damnit, Steven. Fine. Will you at least stop after this case is solved?”

He shook his head, though his dad couldn’t see. “I can’t. It’s too important. I can save lives by helping the police.” 

“You're not leaving me much choice. I'm going to have to hire someone to pick up the slack if this is going to keep happening. It might cut into your pay.”

Steve seethed but said nothing. It was fine. He’d have to talk to Hop about the consulting, see if he could start getting paid for the privilege of looking at dead bodies. 

“Do what you have to.” He said, hanging up before his dad could reply. The phone rang again immediately but he ignored it. He was done with Bert Harrington’s bullshit for the day. 

Before getting into bed, Steve had shot off a quick text to Dustin about needing to see Eddie that night. When he woke, the sun was still low in the sky, so he knew he had a bit of time before he could expect a response from the kid. 

He took his time, showering and getting ready as he waited for the sun to go down, and tried not to think about the fact that he was going to see Eddie, face to face, for the first time in months. 

As hard as he’d tried not to, Steve had thought a lot about the vampire during their time apart. There were many nights that he’d dreamt of dark hair and deep brown eyes, only to wake up with wet cheeks and an ache in his chest, because in those first few moments of wakefulness he could admit to himself that he was sad that it hadn’t been him, that they were just the regular dreams of a person whose heart pined for another. 

Because Eddie, for all that Steve had railed about the vampire forcing himself on him, had taken Steve at his word. He’d asked Eddie to stay away, and Eddie had done it. 

It was for the best, Steve would remind himself, once he was more lucid and had come to his senses. Who was to say that his feelings weren’t just a product of the bond between them anyway? It was all fake, it was just the magic. It had to be. It couldn’t be true. 

His phone pinged, and of course, it was Dustin. The message said to meet Eddie at the Corroded Coffin. There was a show going on that night, but someone would be at the door to meet Steve and escort him to their VIP box, and no, it wouldn’t be Dustin.

Great.

Chapter 12