#and luis is still tied up and all he can do is watch

[m-feys]

I do think that luis knew. At least a little. Even subconsiously. I mean. It isnt like saddler is subtle abt it. I think luis looked away. I think he looked away from a lot of things.

Because of his own ambitions. His own curiosity. His own need to know what he could do.

I mean. In a way. How could he not. Even the work he did was pushing it he had to know something. He created the gigantes after all. I imagine him watching rats get too big for their fucking cages and always just wanting to see how far it could go.

He didnt want to stop. So he looked away. He didnt look at the faces of any of the people he once knew in his village. Of how empty they were now.

Because if he had stopped to ask what they could be using this work for. The answer would have always been something awful. So he didnt ask. He should love to ask questions but more than that he loves coming to conclusions. To theories and getting them proven.

Until he couldnt look away anymore. Until he was the one with a bug in his chest. Until he was looking into the empty eyes of someone who had been his friend.

I wonder if he remembered his grandfather then. If he saw a look like that then too. How long has he been looking away?

[love-toxin]

i dunno if you care about my gushing about leon being infected but.

god the remake made it so much hotter and i don’t see anyone talk about it and i don’t know how they don’t! i personally can’t stop thinking about it and i need infected/normal leon carnally.

:) my time to revive plagas leon has come.

(cws: gn! reader, plagas!leon + a lil yandere, post-canon divergence, needles, drugging, nc groping/kissing under the influence, leon has dirty thoughts, biting, blood, reader gets tied up)

Normal Leon is flirty, playful, maybe a little bit saucy at times if the mood is right. Plagas!Leon is a complete and utter menace, and possibly the most perverse thing you've ever encountered.

At the very least, he's not a complete puppet for Saddler's machinations. He has moments of clarity here and there, but they make way for a deep, unconscionable shift in personality when his mind finally accepts that his body is no longer the same. It's difficult to deal with, you can imagine--or you could, if Leon wasn't relentlessly tracking you down and hellbent on not letting you leave the village.

Could he try to talk to you? He could, if you would listen. But every time he faces you with those piercing carmine eyes, you start backing away, and that pretty face twists in fear and disgust at what he's become. Every time you shoot at him, you try to reconcile it as putting down the monster in him and not putting down Leon. But your sweet, gentle conscience can't accept that there's no difference anymore. This is all him, good, bad, and ugly.

Oh, but you're still so cute. You're so mad at him for the way he is, you throw things at him and grab Ashley's wrist to hurry her away when he comes walking up. He was angry when you managed to slip out of his grasp despite feeling that urge to kill you rising, but when Saddler was finally taken out, Leon felt his free will return and realized he had the chance to make his own fate.

And that's why he's waited. He waited day, after day, after day for you, having had to watch you leave with Ashley and Luis in tow and replaying that scene in his mind a thousand times over. The island is gone now, but the rest of the area needs tending to. He spends his lonely days ridding the castle of pests, disposing of bodies, clearing the village away and getting rid of any remnants of Los Iluminados. They don't belong here anymore because they couldn't leave anyways, and since he can't either, he has to cull the ones who might get in the way of your arrival.

Because he knows you. He knows you're certain of his abilities, but even if there was a shadow of doubt about his survival, you won't be sleeping well wondering whether Leon is still alive. If he can be saved, or if he just needs to be put down properly. He doesn't much care where your reasoning lies, so long as you do what he's sure you will and return to the village to find closure.

It barely takes any time at all--in less than a month, you're standing at the edge of the village by a newly-repaired bridge, a local police car parked anxiously by the entrance for fear of what lies ahead. You've got your gun, a map scribbled out from memory, and his jacket over your shoulders. Adorable. You missed him.

There's really nothing to fear, but he won't let you get much further than that village. There are a few Ganados stationed there as plants to relay information to him, but aside from feeding your fury as you take them out they really don't serve much purpose. Leon can feel you here, your feet hitting the ground as you run and the breath burning your lungs as you hurry away from the mob, booking it straight for the castle gate.

How sweet of you to visit him at home. He can't help but stalk you for a bit, watching you wander about the immense palace and search for clues, flip through his notes and break down into tears when you realize he's still alive. You have so much hope, and it's all stored in that little bottle of pills and a needle filled with sedative.

It all falls away when you neglect to notice the latter missing from your belt, only to thrash and scratch wildly at his arm when he comes up from behind to restrain you. A little pinch in the neck, a choked up sigh, and you collapse so limply in his arms like a doll.

Oh, he missed you. It's so much easier to kiss you when you're unconscious, you don't run away or shove him or shout at him that he's a monster. He wants to kiss you in other places, but...not now. He can be gentle and intimate with you like that later. You barely even flinch, you don't even kick at him when he gropes your thigh and brings his mouth to it to bite down. You taste so sweet, he just wanted a bit of your blood to satisfy the craving--he won't make it a habit, that is unless it ends up turning you on when he does it in bed like he's planning to.

And he is planning. You have a future together but it doesn't include anyone else--he's been given an escape from that depressing life he never wanted, but he's not finding a new one without you, the only good thing he's got in this world. Even if he's got to tie you up so you don't attack him the moment you wake from your stupor.

"Let me go! I'll kill you!"

You don't mean that, sweet thing. You're just tired, and scared, and you missed him. That's why you came back--not a force on earth could've made him revisit the site of Raccoon City after what happened there, but you came all the way back and threw yourself into danger for him, even knowing all that you know. The rest of this ugly world isn't worthy of you.

"I'll fucking shoot your brains out for taking him away from me!"

So feisty and cute. Is he really the one that's obsessed? Because watching you cry in desperation and struggle against your bindings is pretty telling, especially since you stop the moment his cool hand touches your chin. You know what he is, and yet you still look up at him like he's the same he always was.

"L-Leon, if you're still in there, I can get you out. There's a facility in Arklay that agreed to help--you can come home!"

It's a shame you're so hopeful. You even grace him with a relieved smile when he backs off, his brow softened at the sight of you practically begging for him. But it's in that darling, naïve way that shows you have no idea you're already being dragged down with him. And you'll only see that once his hand hovers over your lap, and he gently peels back the jagged fabric you thought might've ripped on your way over a fence, or maybe in one of the many struggles against the villagers for your life.

But you understand, he thinks you do, when you finally follow his eyes and peer down at the exposed skin. The bite mark still glistens with blood and saliva from where he sucked hungrily at the wound, but webbing out beneath your skin around the site are thin, black trails that move along your flesh like veins. And they grow as the seconds pass, spreading out deeper within your body as the infection begins its process.

You look up at him so frightened, and yet so angry, that he can't help but kiss you then. You don't have unbound arms to beat at his chest, or breath in your lungs to scream or cry at him for what he's done to you. His tongue swallows all those muffled curses up, sliding wetly between your lips to taste that effervescent warmth he knows you won't lose in your transformation. You're simply too radiant to become as cold as he is, although he's sure it'll add an exciting thrill to the sensations you'll share when you let those locked desires of yours flood out of you. Who knows, you might get so enthusiastic about your newfound power that you don't let him leave the bedroom for days--Leon would certainly welcome that after all this wretched time apart.

"Just get some rest, sweetheart." He whispers barely a hair's length from your mouth, tongue flicking out to trace your bottom lip and indulge in a delightful shiver up your body. "Let Las Plagas give you strength, and I'll show you how to handle the power. And...welcome home, darling."

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Marriage of Convenience Chapter 4

Summary:  Y/N’s father is gone, and he leaves it all to her.  But in 1880s Oregon, she can’t own land without a husband.  Under the threat of it all being taken away by a land hungry Sheriff, what’s a girl to do with no prospects?  Maybe one of the cowboys on the farm can help…

Warnings: smut, slight physical violence

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Life went on as usual on the farm.  The fact that Y/N and Bucky were now married hadn’t changed anything very much, besides the fact that he now slept in her bed and kissed her a lot.  She couldn’t seem to get used to the times the mountain of a man would sometimes be half naked, flashing his torso at her periodically as he changed for bed.  After their first night together they hadn’t done anything else.  Bucky told her he was patient and could wait until she felt ready to do more.  The problem was she wanted to do more, but didn’t know how to initiate the conversation or the act.  And frankly she was a little scared of what was between his legs.

They had been married for a little over two months when Bucky came riding in fast from the perimeter one day.  Y/N was in the chicken coop part of the barn gathering eggs when she heard the frantic pounding of hooves and ran out to see what was going on.  Luis was nearby, shoeing his horse, and walked over to Y/N.  Bucky quickly pulled up as he got close and hopped off the horse.

“It’s the Sheriff,” he panted as he ran up to her.  “Pierce is here.  He’s with his deputy and the Parson.”

“What?” Y/N said incredulously.  “Why would they come all the way out here?”  Bucky shrugged his shoulders and shook his head as he caught his breath.  “Alright, well we have nothing to fear, we didn’t do anything wrong.  Luis, could you go inform the others they are here?  I’ll go inside and start getting some food ready for them.”  Luis nodded and quickly set off to warn the others.  She turned to Bucky who looked as worried as she felt.  “Buck, stay with me?”

“Of course,” Bucky nodded.  He put his horse away and went inside with her, quickly changing into a more dressy shirt and pants, keeping his gun tucked away, while Y/N was in the kitchen, watching out the window for the dust to start picking up from horse hooves.  When she saw it she called for Bucky, who was almost instantaneously by her side.

As she laid out refreshments on the dining table Sheriff Pierce, his deputy Steve Rogers, and the Parson, Mr. Stark, rode up outside.  “Gentlemen, welcome,” Bucky greeted them at the front door, trying to put on his most polite smile.  They all dismounted and tied their horses to the post at the edge of the house.  Steve and Mr. Stark looked friendly enough, but Pierce was glaring at Bucky.  “Quite a long way for a visit?” Bucky ventured as he stepped down the front stoop and walked up to them.  He shook hands with each of them, Pierce trying and failing to squeeze Bucky’s hand intimidatingly.

“Just some business to attend to, Buck,” Steve said, giving Bucky a narrow-eyed look, his eyes glancing toward the house and back at him.  Bucky and Steve had been childhood friends who had lost track of each other since Buck came out to the farm.  Bucky felt like he could trust Steve but was still wary of him coming with Pierce, and after that look knew that something was up.

“Hello!” Y/N appeared at the doorway, putting on quite the convincing act of doting housewife in another dress she pulled out from deep in her closet.  Bucky’s eyes widened at her outfit change.  She still usually wore pants or overalls around the farm so seeing her in a dress again after their wedding day was a rare occurrence.  “Won’t you all come in?  I have some refreshments inside.”

“That sounds amazing, thank you ma’am,” Mr. Stark piped up, ascending the stairs quickly.  Pierce rolled his eyes and followed the rest of them into the house, Bucky two steps behind him, watching him carefully.

Y/N led them into the dining room where she laid out some water, lemonade and the blackberry muffins she had been working on that morning.  “I have some cookies that should be done soon, and steak and potatoes cooking up for dinner in an hour that you’re welcome to stay for, if you’d like.”

“Thank you,” Steve smiled at her as he took a seat.  Mr. Stark sat next to him and Pierce sat at the end of the table.  Bucky rounded the table to the other end, giving Y/N a kiss on her temple before sitting down.  She smiled at him before starting to plate the muffins and pass around the drinks.

“So what brings you all out to this neck of the woods?” Y/N began, wanting to get this over with.

“An investigation,” Pierce finally piped up.

“Investigation?  Oh dear, I hope it’s nothing serious,” Y/N said.  She heard a ding coming from the kitchen.  “Oh, excuse me, I must get the cookies.”  She walked out and the table grew silent again.  Bucky stared Pierce down, waiting for him to break the silence, but he didn’t.  He merely stared back at Bucky.  

“Here we go,” Y/N came back with a plate of hot cookies.  “They’re cherry, so I hope you like them.”

“They smell wonderful, thank you,” Mr. Stark said as he gingerly picked one up and put it on his plate.

“Alright, enough of the niceties, what’s the issue, Sheriff?” Bucky finally spoke, tired of waiting on the old man.

Pierce huffed then motioned for Y/N to sit down.  She didn’t appreciate him trying to tell her what to do in her own house but chose not to pick a fight and sat next to Bucky.

“It’s come to my attention that the day you came to town to get married was the day after your father died, is this true?” Pierce started, eyeing his plate.

“Yes, unfortunately Papa passed away before he could see us get married,” Y/N said sadly.  “You saw him those few weeks before.  His health declined very quickly.”

���It did,” Pierce agreed before looking at Y/N, his eyes burning with something.  She realized that it was jealousy.  He had wanted to marry her for the farm, and when that slipped away to another man he wasn’t willing to accept defeat.  Her eyes narrowed back at him.  “So you were engaged for how long?”

“Six weeks,” Bucky lied, reaching out and holding Y/N’s hand on the table.

“Very fast,” Pierce remarked.  “You must understand that under the circumstances, with your inheritance of the land, and women unable to own property, that this marriage seems to be one of convenience…a sham.  Which is fraud.”

“That’s a brash accusation, Sheriff,” Steve chimed in, giving Pierce a sharp look.  

“But it’s true, isn’t it?” Pierce asked, the corner of his mouth twitching in annoyance.  “Mr. Stark, when they came to the church house that day to be married did they celebrate or go straight into town to conduct business?”

“Oh, uh, well they rode over to the courthouse afterwards,” Mr. Stark said, looking confused as he stuffed his mouth with cookies.  “But we tell all our married couples to do that, just to get it on the record quickly so they don’t have to waste postage or anything later.”

Pierce glared at him.  “And then you said you saw them at the bank later!”

“Yes, while I went to the general store, they came out of the bank,” Mr. Stark said, not understanding what was happening.  “Is that why you had me come all the way out here?  Was as a witness to something?”

“You didn’t tell him he’s a witness?” Steve barked at Pierce, his eyes flashing dangerously.  

“I’m asking the questions here, Deputy,” Pierce snapped back.  

“We did all business in town that day so we wouldn’t have to come back again soon,” Y/N said cooly.  “It’s a four hour ride by wagon.  You took, what, two hours here by free horse?  Doing business in town is an all-day excursion for us, Sheriff, not an easy opportunity.  We just so happened to decide that getting married the day after my father died was the best course of action so there were no rumors flying around of any impropriety.  Obviously, rumors and gossip still have a way of rearing their ugly heads.”  

Pierce glared at her.  “The question still stands if this marriage is real.”

“Well, I married them, they signed the certificate, nothing improper was done on my end, so I wash my hands of this,” Mr. Stark said, annoyed at the situation.  “I’m heading back home, hopefully I won’t miss Pepper’s shepherd’s pie.  Congratulations again to you both, and good luck.”  He shook Bucky and Y/N’s hands, gave Pierce a sharp look and excused himself.

“Sheriff, this is ridicu–” 

“Have you consummated your marriage?”  Pierce interrupted Steve.

“Excuse me?” Bucky scoffed.

“Sir, that's highly inappropriate,” Steve glared at Pierce.  “You don’t have to answer that,” he turned to Bucky.

“No, he does!” Pierce yelled.  “It’s all well and good to put on a show and kiss each other in public, but what’s important is whether this marriage has made it past the town border!”  He stood suddenly, knocking back the chair he was sitting in.  Bucky and Steve stood up, Bucky’s hand twitching towards his back for his gun.  Y/N stayed seated.  

“He sleeps in my bed,” she said quietly.  All eyes swiveled to her.  “He kisses me.  He touches me.  He loves me, and I love him,” she continued, her eyes burning with anger and frustration.  Bucky inhaled sharply.  “My father loved him as his own.  So for you to come all the way out here, to my home, and insult my father, me, my husband, and our union, is a disgusting abuse of your power, Sheriff,” she spat the title at him.  Pierce’s eyes widened at her tone.  “I must ask you to leave,” she huffed, finally standing and walking to the front door just beyond the dining room.  She opened it wide and glared at him.  “Now.”

Pierce glared back at her, his mouth gaping.  “You…insolent…BITCH!”

Bucky growled and suddenly threw the chair Y/N had been sitting in at Pierce, knocking him down.  Steve stood back.  “Get out!” Bucky snarled as he lifted him by his collar and pulled him out of the house.  Pierce was wheezing after getting the wind knocked out of him, stumbling as Bucky dragged him back to the edge of the house, untied Pierce’s horse from the post and heaped Pierce on his stomach onto the saddle, tying him to the saddle and the reins haphazardly like a dead animal.  He roughly pulled Pierce’s face to look at him.  “You come back here, I’m shooting you on sight,” he threatened, then slapped the horse’s flank, making it take off back down the road, Pierce screaming as he slipped under the horse, still attached to the saddle.

Once they were out of sight Bucky turned back towards the house.  Y/N was at the top of the stairs, eyes wide as she watched the horse ride away, Steve next to her with a comforting hand on her shoulder.  Bucky closed his eyes and breathed, trying to calm himself as Steve walked down the stairs.  He stood in front of Bucky and gripped his shoulders. 

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t see any of that,” Steve chuckled.  Bucky shook his head, silent laughter making his shoulders shake.  “I’m sorry about all this, I should have asked more questions, but he’s completely incompetent,” Steve then pulled him in for a quick hug, clapping him on the back. “I’ve been writing to the state to get us a new sheriff, after this I’m sure it’ll light a fire under their ass.”

“Thanks, Stevie,” Bucky said, accepting and returning the hug.  “I hope they appoint you.  I’m sorry for making a bigger mess.”

“Nah, it was fun to watch,” Steve laughed.  “Now go take care of your wife.  I’ll see y’all around.”  Steve gave him a final smile then jogged off to his horse, hopping on and waving as he rode away.

Bucky moved up the stairs, watching Y/N.  She was still looking off towards the road as Steve rode off and out of sight.  “Y/N?” he asked tentatively.  Y/N’s eyes finally met his, her eyes shining with unshed tears.  “Oh, sweetheart,” Bucky reached for her.  He cupped her face with his hands, swiping under her eyes as the tears fell.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Buck,” she cried, her fingers bunching into his shirt.  He pulled her into his chest, holding her as she cried.  He hadn’t seen her cry except for her father’s death, which was out of sadness, but now for this he wasn’t sure what to do.

“What happened?” Luis came clambering out from behind the house, the others hot on his heels.

“The Sheriff thought he had us,” Bucky explained as he rubbed Y/N’s back.  “But I convinced him not to come back.”

“You’re a dog, Bucky!” Emiliano cheered.  “Le golpeaste el culo (you beat his ass)!”  

“Y/N?” Luis walked up the stairs.  “Are you alright?”

Y/N quickly wiped her eyes, pushing away from Bucky.  “Yes, I’m fine,” she quickly put on a brave face, smiling politely at everyone.  “I’m sorry, I just…nevermind.  Dinner will be ready soon!”  She turned and walked back into the house.  Luis and Bucky gave each other a concerned look before Bucky walked inside and Luis gathered everyone else back to work.

Bucky found Y/N in the kitchen, flitting around and getting things ready.  She was mashing the potatoes when he stepped up behind her.  “Y/N, what’s wrong?”  Y/N just shook her head, refusing to look at him.  “Did I scare you?  I didn’t mean to, sweetheart, I’m sorry.  He just…I was so angry, I wanted him out.”  Y/N nodded but kept mashing.  “Are you afraid of me?”

“No,” Y/N said simply, turning towards the counter and grabbing some cream to add to the potatoes.

Bucky blinked.  “Then why were you crying?”

“I don’t know,” she said as she walked around him, opening the dutch oven on the fire and checking on the steak.  “It was an extremely heavy moment and I guess I had a lot of emotions happening at once.”

“I understand,” he said quietly.  “Did you mean what you said?”

Y/N paused when she reached the counter, then resumed picking up her knife and cutting the pears she had on the cutting board.  “What did I say?”

Bucky stood next to her, taking the knife from her hand and setting it down.  He pulled her chin towards him with his fingers, making her look at him.  She finally looked at him, her eyes still wet from before, a hesitant look on her face as she inhaled deeply.

“You said you loved me,” he murmured.  His eyes searched her face as she stared at him.  Y/N gulped and licked her lips.  “Is that true?”

“Yes.”

Bucky smiled.  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t know how,” Y/N answered, another tear falling from her eye.  She fully faced him and started sliding her hands up his stomach to his chest.  Bucky watched her movements, his mouth hanging open as she felt him.  “I don’t know how to do any of this,” she whispered.  “But ever since that first night when you took such good care of me, I’ve wanted you, and that very quickly turned into something…more.  Hearing Pierce try to threaten what we have scared me.  If what I’m feeling isn’t love then I don’t know what it is.”

Bucky sighed, feeling content at finally hearing her say it.  Her hands moved up and her fingers laced into his hair.  She pulled him down so she could reach his lips.  He gladly let her and kissed her eagerly, his arms wrapping around her back and hoisting her up to the counter.  Pears went flying onto the floor, the knife being knocked out of the reach as he set her down, his hands gripping her hips as she deepened the kiss.  Her nails scratched his scalp, making him moan into her mouth.  Y/N opened her mouth and Bucky took his chance to sneak his tongue out, tasting her lips.  She reciprocated and his hands slipped up towards the top of her dress.  It was buttoned in the front and he made quick work of the buttons, opening it far enough down that her cleavage was shown to him.  He kissed down from her mouth to her chest, giving her breasts kisses and licks, massaging them with his large hands.

Y/N whimpered at the sensations, holding his head against her chest. He cupped one breast out of her undergarment and held it in his hand as he licked and sucked on her nipple, making her keen against him, her breath fanning his ear.

Suddenly she smelled something burning.  “The steak!” Y/N shrieked, pushing Bucky away and hopping off the counter, running to the fire and using her dress as protection from the hot oven handle, taking it off the fire and opening the lid.  “Ah, shit,” she whined, setting the oven down on the floor.  She stepped away and looked back at Bucky.

He couldn’t help but laugh at the scene in front of him: Y/N with one breast hanging out of her undone dress, her hair frazzled and a discontented look on her face.  

“Don’t laugh at me, this is your fault!” Y/N yelled at him, tucking her breast back into her dress and buttoning it back up.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky kept laughing, helping pick up the pears and the knife off the floor. 

Y/N started laughing with him as he finished cleaning and hugged her.  “I’m sorry about dinner,” he chuckled, smoothing out her hair.  “Listen,” he took her chin between his fingers again, making her look at him.  “After dinner, when everyone’s gone to bed,” he paused, leaning down and kissing her lips again, but this time giving her bottom lip a nip with his teeth, making her gasp, “you’re mine.”

Y/N exhaled a shaky breath and nodded enthusiastically.  Bucky kissed her nose then left her alone in the kitchen.

**picture is from Pinterest, A.I. generated, so no known "artist" or "creator"**

@wintrsoldrluvr @vicmc624 @itvy5601 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73

[vampireimiko]

𝐥𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 !!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, none !! just typical re4 stuff and fluff 🫶🏾

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞, ehe i really have not had the motivation to write lately but this is leon s(slut) kennedy were talking about here !!

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝? YES, I don't usually put these but I accidentally deleted the request after ACCIDENTALLY posting the unfinished hc's last night 😞

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ omg first Leon request 🫶🏾 but uhm ANYWAY😁

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Working with people was nothing new to Leon, so when you and him were assigned to go find Ashley Graham, this was another mission to him.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Leon was not expecting the both of you to hit it off so well. He actually quite liked having you as a partner on this mission.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ You were intelligent, brave, easy to work with, and did I mention hot? Those were all green flags in his book.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ You and he had each other's backs when firing at incoming villagers.

"Watch out!" Leon shouted as you ducked out the way and he fired at Doctor Salvador, who was revving his chainsaw.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ He will most definitely scold you telling you you needed to be more careful. Kinda hard to do that while your both being chased by almost every living thing here 😊 /s

"Aw, you worried about me 'rookie'? You said teasingly shooting him a wink.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ You both flirt with one another whenever you have the chance. Because after all, this was still a mission that needed to be taken seriously. Ashley was the priority here.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ He loves getting to know you during the more chill moments of your mission. You two would discuss your favorite foods, colors, etc. You two would talk about anything really, just something to keep you distracted from being in a place like this.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ He likes showing off in front of you 🙄 roundhouse kicking, suplexing, you name it.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ But make no mistake, he most definitely likes seeing you in action aswell, whatever you do is just so flawless in his eyes.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ You absolutely LOVE his one liners, he's such a dork omg 😭🫶🏾

"Where's everybody going? Bingo?" That one made you laugh a bit more than you expected.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Fast forward to when you guys are tied up with Luis, he gets jealous whenever Luis flirts with you but ofc he'll try not to let it show

"Could you stop flirting with him? We have a mission to complete y'know." He'd say rolling his eyes at the man.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ And do not even get me started on the sparks between you and him??

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ After finding Ashley even SHE can feel the tension between you and Leon.

"Correct me if im wrong.. but are you two together? I can totally feels sparks between you two!" Ashley squealed in your ear as Leon walked off to investigate the area.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ You and Leon very clearly felt some type of way about one another, but then again you weren't here to find Love. You were here to rescue Ashley.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ But even knowing that surely does not stop the flirting between you two.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ You promised yourself that you'd ask him out when this mission was completed and you were both home safe.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ In conclusion, I NEED LEON KENNEDY CARNALLY 🗣️🗣️🔥🔥‼️‼️‼️

𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞, I'm ACTUALLY kinda happy w how these turned out, they're not as long as I wanted them to be (cause i would've literally recapped the whole game if they were the length I wanted them) but ANYWAY UHM 😁 thank you for reading and reblogs are appreciated and requests are open !! <33

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 ��𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

[itzkirav]

TIED TOGETHER

Luis Serra x fem-reader

Summary: Instead of Leon being chained up with Luis, it was you.

You opened your eyes and frantically looked around the room. Where the hell were you? Then you felt the coldness wrapped around you. You looked up and saw you were in chains. Then a male voice spoke out, “So, the Princesa is awake?” You turn around and see an attractive man. “Names Luis, and yours princesa?” while smirking looking into your eyes. “Why should I tell you my name, I don't even know you,” you said backing up while looking at him. “You know my name, is that not enough?”. “That still doesn't mean anything” “Fine then Princesa, what do I have to do to tell me your name hm?” “Well….. how about this, I’ll tell you my name if you help me get out of these chains” you implied. “Then we can help each other right, Princesa?.”uhm... I'll think about it, just help me get out of these chains I need to go somewhere”. “ I see you're in a rush Princesa, no worries I will find a way out of these chains” he pulls down his chains which made your chained wrist go up above your head. “Hey watch it” “Sorry Princesa, ......You know I say you've been in a situation like this before no?” You gave him an annoyed look but ignored his comment. Which made him smirk. It got a little quiet as Luis was observing the room until he looked up.“Princesa I think we may have to pull on our chains.” “yea I agree, it doesn't look that stable.” while looking up and seeing the spot where you and Luis were chained up. You both start pulling down hard until it eventually came off. “So princess about that deal”. Right as he said that a man came into the room ready to charge right at Luis, so you pulled on your chain which made Luis fall forward to you. which made the man miss. Eventually, Luis got up, you realized the man was holding a hatchet, So you hit the man with your chain, which caused him to stumble back. you and Luis eventually had the chains around the man's neck, the man still kept swinging his hatchet around. So you pick up your leg and put all your force on your knee on the chain, and you snapped the man's neck. “Wow princess, didn't know you were dangerous” Luis went to pick up the key from the man's body to uncuff himself. “new deal Princesa, I’ll let you go if you tell me your name, Deal?” “Why do you want to know my name so bad?” “Well, Princesa I'll regret not knowing a beautiful Senorita name like you” “Fine my name is Y/n, happy?” he smiled, and he uncuffed you. “So Princesa where are you off to?” “I told you my name didn't I, why are you still calling me princess?” “Because princesa, I like calling you that, It suits you, you know?” He smirks. You rolled your eyes at him “Well Luis it was nice meeting you, I have to go now” You start walking away “WAIT princesa, I thought we were partners?” “What made you think of that?” you turn around to look at him ”Well princesa we both saved each other's asses no?” He implied “Well Luis I hate to break it to you but I already have a partner” “What? Are you serious princesa?” “Yes, Luis I'm serious, Now I'm in a rush I need to meet up with him” “How about I go with you? you know as a temporary partner?” He suggested, “Fine come on Luis”...

[rallamajoop]

The RE4 Remake and Luis Serra Navarro

I have a gazillion thoughts about the new RE4 remake, and a dozen different aspects I kind of want to talk about. But you’ve got to start somewhere, so let’s talk Luis.

I doubt it’d be controversial to call Luis “easily the most interesting new character introduced in this game.” We’ve got complex and questionable motivations, a bunch of plot-relevant backstory, and a bonus-serve of extra random details about his childhood – much of which is very easy to miss, and rewards you for paying attention. By the end of this game, I’m pretty sure I know more about Luis than I do about Leon, and I still have questions. He’s not just one of my favourite parts of this new game, he’s a perfectly little microcosm of all the ways the remake has reworked awkward aspects of the original – mostly for the better, but not without creating new problems in the process.

But to get into all that, let’s start back with the original Luis from 2004.

So, for context, I haven’t actually played the original RE4. Since getting into the franchise, I’ve been consuming past canon instalments mostly by the lazy strategy of watching cutscene compilations on youtube. I am fully aware of the important place RE4 has in gaming history, the way it defined 3rd-person-shooter over-the-shoulder-gaming (or, to use my preferred term, lookit-the-booty-shooty). I have watched Jacob Geller wax rhapsodic about multiple different versions of this game.

But for all that people remember about the original RE4, the plot rarely seems to be more than a footnote. And for my own money, all I can tell you is that either this is just not a gaming experience well-served being experienced through the youtube-only medium (hardly the stuff of serious critique), or me and the original RE4 just aren’t clicking somewhere. I’m all for campy horror (see everything I’ve ever written about the Hammer films just to begin with), but RE4’s sense of humour largely leaves me cold. And Luis is – again – a pretty good demonstration of the kind of record-scratch moments that made it so hard to get into.

You can find a compilation of all Luis' cutscenes here, for reference. Like the remake, Leon first finds Luis tied up and gagged in a village house – apparently the only un-infected person in the vicinity. His first act on being un-gagged is to ask for a cigarette – a decent little character-moment. Luis claims to be a former cop from Madrid, who quit because he felt his work went unappreciated. Given Luis’ general demeanour, it wouldn’t be surprising to learn he was actually let go for taking bribes or something, but that’s more of a vibe. When Leon admits he was a cop back in Raccoon City, Luis claims he ‘might have seen a sample of the virus in a lab at the department’, and… hang on, Madrid PD has T-Virus samples lying around? The hell? Where’s this going?

But we don’t find out, because the conversation is interrupted, and Luis makes a break for it.

As in the remake, Luis’ next scene is to show up for the cabin siege scene, where he backs up Leon with a handgun. Cool, that tracks with the whole ‘former cop’ backstory.

Luis gets two further appearances, though the first mostly consists of him running up to say “I’ve got something for you guys! What… oh, shit, I must have dropped it,” and going away again, and it’s exactly as awkward as it sounds. But he does at least establish that the ‘something’ is a plagas-suppressant, as he knows Leon and Ashley are infected, and wants to help.

His final scene has him return with the suppressant, only to be stabbed in the back and killed by Saddler. As he lies dying, he admits he was really a researcher working for the Los Illuminados all along, only lately turned traitor – and we’ve officially hit our record-scratch moment.

So what was all that stuff about being a cop? Luis has good reason to lie about being a researcher, but ‘unemployed former cop’ is a heckuva cover story for a scientist, and what was that about Madrid PD having T-Virus samples? Luis-the-researcher might well have seen the virus somewhere, but why bring it up at all?

More than anything, these feel like leftover artifacts of a character who’s been substantially reworked somewhere in development, just without actually rewriting the start of the script to match. Luis’ story, like so much of this game, feels badly in need of a second draft.

Luis goes on to get something of an afterlife in collectable documents, and another scene in Ada’s DLC campaign. He’s still trying to get a plaga sample to her in this version, and he’s still responsible for the lab that cures Leon and Ashley of their infections. Ada's commentary on his character is interesting, and documents suggest he had a grandfather who used to hunt in the region, but he doesn’t get much more backstory.

Regardless, nearly 20 years later, Luis has finally got his second draft, and there’s a lot here that’s improved. (Have a new cutscene compilation link for reference.)

To begin with, any talk about being a cop is gone (an easy win). We find out he’s a researcher much earlier too – Leon is a lot less trusting of Luis this time, and calls in for a background check. He’s informed Luis used to work for Umbrella, and reacts as you’d expect. The cabin siege scene still goes off in similar fashion (though this time, Luis doesn’t feel it necessary to comment on Ashley’s tits the moment he meets her – another definite improvement).

This time though, Ashley starts coughing up blood immediately after they escape, and Luis’ offer to help remove the parasites happens right after the cabin siege, rather than being left for some awkward whoops-I-dropped-it moment later. The new scene actually finishes with the very same exchange (“Why are you helping us?”/ “It just makes me feel better”) – but this version, similarly, feels so much better. A+ revision work so far.

The remake also spells out Luis’ deal with Ada sooner too – her first proper scene in this version is her first contact with Luis. Again, Luis’ story ends in the castle with a stab in the back, and the stolen sample he was carrying being reclaimed by one of the villains (Krauser, this time, since Saddler apparently likes to delegate more in this version). But in between, things get a little odd.

Having already offered to help them, Luis contacts Leon by radio a couple of times during the castle chapters – firstly to say he’s waiting for Leon and Ashley in the courtyard. But Luis isn’t in the courtyard. His next message claims that he ran into trouble, and he’s had to retreat to the ballroom. But he’s not in the ballroom either. No further calls happen, nor does Leon react to his absence in either location.

Leon finally runs into him, apparently by chance, after being thrown down a hole and wandering for some time through tunnels deep under the castle. How did Luis end up down there too? No idea.

I’m glad he does though, because the following chapter you spend with Luis as your cabin-siege-style partner is a very good time. Though Leon is still distrustful and Luis still evasive, they exchange some great banter and generally make a good team. We encounter Luis’ love for Don Quixote, he admits he was working for Los Illuminados… and then Krauser stabs him, and Leon lights one last cigarette for him before he dies. It’s touching and very well done (not to mention dense with slashy subtext, if you want to take it that way).

Exploring Luis’ lab during the game’s final chapter adds some nice details too – equipment pilfered from Umbrella, an old photo with his colleagues, and naturally, text documents everywhere. But it’s his email logs with “A.W.” (Ada, obviously) that will most reward anyone paying attention – particularly the line you still remember the code phrase?

In this version, ‘got a smoke?’ is still almost the first thing Luis says to Leon. But you might notice it’s also the first thing he says to Ada. And this time, we’ve got a whole new explanation as to why.

Admittedly, the execution is still a bit lacking. Luis calls Ada by her first name just a few lines after using his ‘code phrase’, and seems to know her well enough not to need a code phrase, so what's going on here? If Luis knew Ada herself was going to meet him, why try his code phrase out on Leon? Alternately, if he suspected Ada might have sent someone like Leon instead of coming in person, how did he know it was her when they met? Maybe we could still have used another draft. But it’s a otherwise a fun little easter egg to recontextualise something from the original in a creative way.

Much more has been added to Luis’ backstory hidden in documents from the village. You can find photos of 'a boy with his grandfather', an old diary left behind by said grandfather – and if you’re paying really close attention, a label on another copy of that photo naming the pair ‘Navarro’ – Luis’ last name. You might also notice that the boy in the story has Luis’ fixation on Don Quixote (another character trait added by the remake).

But young Luis’ story ends in tragedy, the conclusion picked up elsewhere in the village elder’s records: the grandfather is bitten by a wolf, begins experiencing what seem to be known symptoms, and tells the village elder "you know what to do." The old man is killed, and his cabin and everything in it burned to the ground so the infection can’t spread.

Now, the idea the village has been quietly dealing with plaga-infected wolves for generations despite the fact that the plaga were supposedly sealed under the castle until recently has problems of its own, but that’s a bit beyond scope. The more relevant problem is the idea that Luis comes from the same village where all the action takes place – why? What does this add to the story? With Luis’ new Umbrella-Europe-backstory, making the village his birthplace seems like little more than meaningless coincidence, thrown in without anyone thinking it through.

But there is one intriguing possibility buried in the subtext of Luis’ story, and it’s an angle I’d love to see explored.

The village records end with the scene of a young Luis watching in silence as his childhood home burns to the ground, his only family still inside, then walking away, never to be seen again. Now, suppose that’s the very moment that inspired him to go into medical research, driven to understand infectious agents like the one that took his grandfather’s life, that the people he grew up with only knew to treat with medieval superstition. Suppose that’s what made him seek out shady employers like Umbrella, the only outfits with the interest and funding to delve into that area. The drive to find cures, to find proof that what happened to his grandfather didn’t have to be treated like a ritual witch-burning could’ve fuelled a lot of denial in Luis about where the funding was coming from. And after Umbrella’s collapse, you can only imagine how he might jump at the chance to work on the same parasites that had infected that wolf from so long ago.

If that was the intent, though (and damn do I want it to be), I honestly think it’s a little too buried in layers of subtext to carry. I can only hope maybe we’ll be seeing more of Luis in DLC to come – in Ada’s Separate Ways, if not his own – that might expand on those parts of his history a little more explicitly. Or at least cover what he was actually up to all that time he keeps messaging Leon from different parts of the castle (did he genuinely run into trouble? Was Ada pushing him to keep Leon moving for her own purposes? How did he wind up down in the mines?)

The notion of Luis as a village native still has its problems though. The house you find him in seems to be the same one he grew up in – it’s a cabin by the lake, his grandfather’s diary and photo is there, etc. Only those old village records spell out very clearly that that cabin burned to the ground as part of a major character moment. Which is it, game? You can’t have it both ways.

Even if we ignore that awkward ‘burned to the ground’ detail, are we to take it the ganados caught Luis in his old house and left him tied him up in his own cellar? Wouldn’t they move a prisoner like him? Speaking of which, was that one guy banging on the floor supposed to be hammering the hatch shut? Why? Was Luis being left down there to die? Don’t they still need to question him about that sample he stole? This stuff does not stand up to scrutiny.

And the idea of Luis as a native still doesn’t completely work for me, because shouldn’t there have been some clue in the way he talks about the place? Chief Mendez is a man Luis knew from his childhood – when Luis sees him coming in a cutscene, his reaction betrays no more familiarity than ‘not this guy’. In that cabin siege scene, surely there must be faces in that crowd he’s firing on that he recognises. And fuck, how do you come back to the place you grew up, find its residents reduced to zombie slaves, and think, “sure, I could work for these people…”?

I do realise expecting this level of humanity out of characters in a Resident Evil game might be a little much, but this stuff throws me. It builds the impression the Luis who grew up in the village is a character that exists only in text files, largely independent from the cutscene-Luis of the rest of the game. When you expect your audience to notice minor details like a surname on a photo in order to put together a main character’s backstory, you’re demanding they pay close attention. And once you’ve demanded that much investment, it’s worth keeping track of whether the cabin by the lake was supposed to be burned down or not, why Luis should be able to call Ada by name but treat Mendez like a stranger, and other such confusing detail. And Luis’ story is still positively logical and consistent compared to that of Chief Mendez himself, or anything much else in the game’s lore.

Luis is genuinely one of my favourite parts of the remake – he’s complicated, interesting, and fun. But trying to make sense of him could be a more rewarding experience. Many things are improved from the original, but for my money, they could still have stood to go for a third draft.

[siereads]

Ironside Review

Rating: 5/5

Oh Ironside, how I love you. While Tithe and Valiant can, for the most part, stand on their own, both need to be read for Ironside to make a lick of sense. This is the book that crosses the storylines. It mostly focuses on Kaye once more (which honestly makes it that much more enjoyable for me) and you do get to learn a little more about Luis when he teams up with Kaye and Corny. Unlike Tithe, however, this one takes place more in Seelie territory. Which is not the best place for a very Unseelie aligned pixie, even if she had been born in the Seelie Court. I think the most refreshing thing about this book in particular is Kaye telling Ellen what she is and getting Ellen's biological daughter back to her only for Ellen to accept Kaye exactly as she is once she's had time to come to terms with the shock of the truth. Watching Ellen stand her ground about Kaye still being just as much her daughter as she always was and making the effort to mend the hurt she caused when she lashed out at the truth never fails to make me a little weepy. So many stories have the fae child being completely abandoned by the human parent(s) they grew up loving and I love that this was not one of those stories. I also love that, despite all of the pain and upset, Corny and Luis DO get to have some happiness in each other. Honestly, this is a good book that ties two mostly unconnected books together in a very good way.

[comradeocean]

Alphabet Stew — can’t fix just one thing / Syd and Carmy and The Bear fic mixtape [download, youtube*]

*missing the Yumi Zouma cover of Wonderwall

O.K. With My Decay, Grandaddy || Two Words, Kanye West ft Mos Def || Beirut Al Kobra, Sami Hawat || Feel It Still, Portugal. The Man || Sacar La Voz, Ana Tijoux ft Jorge Drexler || Landing Guy, Liu Haolin & Kidult || Wonderwall, Yumi Zouma || Paradise, Sade || The Shining, The Neighbourhood || Mountain O Things, Tracy Chapman || Scotch and Soda, Kingston Trio || Taste You, Melissa Auf Der Maur || Tomorrow Wendy, Concrete Blonde || All the Places, Made in Heights || Going to Georgia, Atom and His Package || The Keepers, Santigold || Le coeur au bout des doigts, Jacqueline Taïeb || Baby's On Fire, Brian Eno || Nothing's Gonna Change My Love For You, George Benson || History Town, Mos Def/Talib Kweli/Max Tannone || I Guess I Planted, Billy Bragg & Wilco || Party in the USA (Remix), Rye Rye || This Bitter Earth, Dinah Washington || Head On, Man Man || My Heart Has A Mind of Its Own, Connie Francis || Time In a Bottle, Jim Croce || Hot Like Fire, The xx || Red, Okkervil River || Someday, The Strokes

O.K. With My Decay, Grandaddy the pressure put upon me / it goes and goes 'til it thinks it got me / on my decay / I have no choice / so I'll rejoice / I'm OK

Two Words, Kanye West ft Mos Def two words, United States, no love, no breaks

Beirut Al Kobra, Sami Hawat لبنان صغير (زغير ) بيروت كبر / بيروت كبرى هاى بيروتو بيروتو / يا سلام .. يا سلام [little Lebanon, big Beirut / greater Beirut, hey Beirut / peace oh peace]

Feel It Still, Portugal. The Man is it coming? / is it coming? / is it coming back?

Sacar La Voz, Ana Tijoux ft Jorge Drexler respirar un futuro esplendor / cobra más sentido si lo creamos los dos [to breathe a glorious future / makes more sense if we do it together]

Landing Guy, Liu Haolin & Kidult night to day, and day to night / all the sadness, you take my breath away / I don't really see much of anything / but I see you / that is crazy

Wonderwall, Yumi Zouma (Oasis cover) and all the roads that lead you there were winding

Paradise, Sade I'd wash the sand off the shore / give you the world if it was mine

The Shining, The Neighbourhood I've been hiding / you've been shining / like, diamonds blinding

Mountain O Things, Tracy Chapman the life I've always wanted / I guess I'll never have

Scotch and Soda, Kingston Trio all I need is one of your smiles / sunshine of your eye

Taste You, Melissa Auf Der Maur plug it in / so I can digest you, I will taste you

Tomorrow Wendy, Concrete Blonde it is complete now / two ends of time are neatly tied

All the Places, Made in Heights dead could, dead could start to feel and your eyes will start to flood

Going to Georgia, Atom and His Package (The Mountain Goats cover) the most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway / is that it's you / and that you're standing in the doorway

The Keepers, Santigold ask me why a dream gets you by / but let it want, turns a dangerous thing / watch out for it, it snakes right past / then turns around and it sucks you in

Le coeur au bout des doigts, Jacqueline Taïeb il me dit: vous semblez triste / et je ne lui réponds pas / en levant un peu la tête  / je vois qu'il a les yeux bleus [he says you seem sad / and I don’t answer / lift my head a little / see his eyes are blue]

Baby's On Fire, Brian Eno rescuers row, row / do your best to change the subject

Nothing's Gonna Change My Love For You, George Benson our dreams are young and we both know / they'll take us where we want to go

History Town, Mos Def / Talib Kweli / Max Tannone it's where you been and where you be / and without understanding you cannot proceed / complete, the start and the end / then it just go round again... again

I Guess I Planted, Billy Bragg & Wilco but when it dawns way in the back of your mind / the big ones are made up of the little kind / union song, union battled

Party in the USA (Remix), Rye Rye this is all so crazy / party in the / this is all so crazy / yeah / it's a party in the USA

This Bitter Earth, Dinah Washington oh this bitter earth / today you're young / too soon you're old /

Head On, Man Man are you dreaming of death /  are there ghosts in your chest / are you always so restless, yes you are

My Heart Has A Mind of Its Own, Connie Francis I know forgetting you / would be a hopeless thing / for I'm a puppet and I / just can't seem to break the string

Time In a Bottle, Jim Croce if I had a box just for wishes / and dreams that had never come true / the box would be empty / except for the memory of how they were answered by you

Hot Like Fire, The xx (Aaliyah cover) you can't resist / kiss, kiss, and kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss...

Red, Okkervil River yes is my favourite answer / but I have seen some things that I cannot even tell to my family pictures / and I'm full of fictions and fucking addictions and I miss my mother

Someday, The Strokes see, alone we stand, together we fall apart / yeah, I think I'll be alright / I'm working so I won't have to try so hard / tables, they turn sometimes / oh, someday

[thekillingjoke-haha]

YOU ARE WERE MINE

Summary: Sacrifices are often made for the ones we love....even if it might hurt.

Parings: Sam Winchester x Male!Reader, Hinted at Male!reader x John Winchester, and Sam Winchester x Unmentioned girls

Warning?: Bi Sam ,Dean still flirting with reader, No jess death for M/n, Reader is a hunter...and never told Sam, Yellow-eyes, mention(hint at) smut

Sam looked up at M/n with a smile he wore a sexy fireman outfit for the bar outing the yellow shirt looked like it was going to rip if the surprisingly taller male flexed a little too much the red suspenders held up loss fitting brown pants and a axe that leaned on the door frame. "Come on Babe dress up a little." He said tightening the suspenders straps.

"You know I don't like Halloween." Sam sighed as his boyfriend came up to him kissing his cheek with a mischievous smirk. "Too bad guess I can't give you your treat." The h/c man growled nipping his ear as he walked out of their shared bedroom. With a fake pout he chased after him. "If I put on a Halloween shirt will it pass?" He said hopefully putting his arms over M/n shoulder causing him to put his hands on his hips. "Hmmm....If I get to pick the shirt." Sam chuckled and nodded. He'll soon regret that.

Luis was loosing his shit laughing at the shit while M/n smiled proudly at what his boyfriend was wearing it was a plain dark gray t-shirt with the words 'Just the tip. I Promise.' And a knife. "This has to be your best work, N/n." Stephan, M/n best friend, said dressed as a cop high fives the awaiting hand.

M/n gave Sammy a small grin and winked causing him to blush slightly. It was time to celebrate with friends Sam's accomplishment he can wait later to celebrate with Sam his own way.

(Time skip past smexy times~might do it later)

M/n woke up in a empty bed to the sound of a fight he quickly got up in only his boxers to see what was wrong. He knew it was human since he had symbols all under wall paper and floor boards. Turning on the lights he sees Sam and a shorter man next to him "Sammy?" He said causing both of them to look over maybe he should have put on pants eyes raked down his form. "Woah. Hi I'm Dean Rapunzel's older brother. You must be his roommate..." The green eyed man bit his lip looking down south of the s/c man before him. "...I just love Scooby-Doo.~" Dean said keeping his gaze on the mystery machine briefs M/n was wearing. Sam quickly got between both of them pushing his brother back. "Dean this N/n my boyfriend" A confused look crossed his face. "Where's Jess you girlfriend?" He asked. "She was my roommate graduated a year ago and M/n moved in."

Dean looked back at M/n the flirtatious smirk back on his face. "You're way out of my brothers league." Sam put a around his boyfriends waist pulling him close. "Why are you here Dean?" There was a pause of silence. "Dad hasn't been home in a few days." The blonde said before it was shot down. "Let me rephrase. Dad's on a hunting trip and hasn't been home in a few days." With that Sam tensed up and looked over to M/n. "I'll be right back." His tone rushed as he peeked him in the cheek and left their shared apartment brother in tow.

Once the sound of their foot steps were heard going down the stairs M/n sighed his hand running through his bed head. "Fucking Winchester’s." He mumbled before going back up stairs going to his old room. M/n went to the closet moving boxes out of the way till he got to the duffel bag he was looking for. A burner phone weighed heavy in his hand as he wandered back to bed. "If he goes I go." He mumbled to himself looking at the mirror on the nightstand. M/n has been off and on with hunting ever since he started dating Sam and he knew who he was the moment his last name left his lips, but he only put on a smile and gave him his first and middle name since L/n were famous in the community.

Sam came back to the apartment and started to pack a bag. "Sam what's going on?" M/n said innocently as he watched more of his boyfriends clothes fill the bag. "Just going to help look for Dad. Probably just went out with a old friend and didn't bother to pick up." Sam zipped up the bag as he threw it over his shoulder. "You know what's Monday right?! You can't just not show up it's your dream on the line, Babe!" M/n stepped forward slowing down the rushed pace. "I know...you're right and I'll be back on Monday." We walked out of the building. "Promise to call me when you get there." The h/c man said hugging the long haired brunette close. "I promise." With a final kiss goodbye M/n waved him off before going inside. Time to jump back into the L/n family business. Pulling out the burner it rung as the first number was dialed. "I don't give a damn of you are the IRS or girl scouts selling fucking cookies it's one am you idjit!" The familiar voice rung out. "Good talking to you to Uncle Bobby." M/n chuckled and the older man's breath caught in his throat. "Well I'll be damned do my ears deceive me or is that little F/n all grown up?"

"Glad you didn't trash this number."

"What are you calling for boy its still 1am?" Bobby asked.

" I need to pick up my truck. I'm going hunting."

~~~~Time Skip~~~~

Sam sat in the motel room trying to call M/n, but he didn't pick up. If only he knew that right at that moment he was beheading a vampire while laughing like a sadistic prick. After cleaning the blood off and burning the barn that held the nest M/n tried calling back when it picked up he heard Sam's distressed voice. "M/n now is not a good time. I'm so cold hold me" A voice spoke over Sam's. "Who the hell was that?!" I heard a loud hissing noise. "Sam!" That's when a shotgun went off, glass shattered, and the lime went dead. M/n stood up and paced un his room it would be late before he got home he'll have to hall ass to get there before Sam.

Going out to the truck he opened the bed lifting the metal cover and false bottom loading the weapons. He had no time to drop it back off. The road was silent till a voice interrupted it. "Hello, handsome. What's the rush?" Almost swerving into a ditch M/n looked over and saw a man with graying blonde hair. Reaching for a weapon the man's eyes flashed yellow gazing at him. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." He snapped causing the h/c make to look straight and push hard into his seat. "You're the little Winchester’s boy toy. Well in two hours he'll be home and dead by the time you arrive." M/n's breath caught in his throat. "Liar. I'm not stupid every hunter has heard what happened to Mary it doesn't take a genius to see they weren't the only one's. You need him alive and well, so why are you hear?" He growled low in his throat as the demon chuckled. "Got me there. You see Sammy boy needs to get back in the life and you being, I don't know, alive is getting in the way." The pressure grew stronger on the restrained man's chest till he almost could feel his lungs squeeze. "But I'm a business man. You work for me you live and maybe see Sam again or die in a blaze and the last thing he sees is your burning corpse. Can't be a protective boyfriend if your dead."

"What will happen to me if I agree?" That's when a sick smile pulled on his lips. "You become a demon. No a demon doesn't possess you! You yourself become one you memories and personality intact. So deal?" He held his hand out to the s/c man as he sighed taking his eyes from the road. "Deal." The demons yellows eyes shined bright as he yanked the young man forward pressing their lips together sealing it. "You are mine." He growled possessively as M/n pulled out his phone and dialed Sam's number. It went to voice mail. "Hey Rapunzel. I want you to know...I love you. Hold on to that, never let that go. You mean the world to me...so once you figure out how to open you voice mail this is waiting for you."

Sam woke up from his nightmare of his burning apartment building. It been almost three years since then and he never gotten over it. It took a year to get to his messages and what M/ n left behind gave him more questions then answers. He couldn't even get into the apartment before the flames erupted. Sam had doubts about M/n in the fire, but after the police report was released only one casualty of M/n Middle/n. Dean tried to tell my it would at some point get better, but the guilt still felt heavy in his chest. Nightmares of M/n in the fire not in pain, but seeming to absorb the flames made him question what really happened. The brothers had a lead on yellow eyes that their dad led them to. It all seemed to convenient that after the fight he knew to much about the demon that pledged his nightmares. The warehouse was falling apart it was in shambles as Dean parked baby next to it. "Are you sure this is the place?" Sam asked his brother. "Dad said this was it. Load up." Dean got out the car popping the trunk. This didn't feel right.

Tied up, beaten, and tortured. The Winchesters look up at their own fathers face with those horrid yellow eyes. "You boys never questioned a thing didn't even hesitate to come inside!" He chuckled darkly as the surrounding demons grinned. "This would have been the part where I laugh at you kill you dragging your sorry souls to hell to be my toys for the next millennium, but I have something better!" Signature Winchester grin lifted his lips as he called out seeming to no one. "Oh, honey bear! Come say hi." The sound of a strong gust of wind came from behind them as the clack of well made dress shoes hit the shifty floor boards. A man wearing black dress pants, shoes, and a open f/c(not black) silk button up. His back was to the brothers as John lifted his head up to kiss the man's cheek. Turning around white eyes looked at them, but that face was unmistakably M/n's a scar on his brow but it was him. Sam was chocked up M/n was in front of him looking well and oh God he's with enemy that took their dad's body as a meat suit.

"Do you like him, Sammy? Hells best torturer!" John said running his hands over M/n as the man kept his gaze locked on the tallest Winchester analyzing him as he seethed with anger at the demon touched his boyfriend. "Oh the things he's done would make Lucifer blush." Yellow-eyes trailed his hand down the scarred chest biting his lip making Sam struggle more. Snapping his fingers the other demons took Dean, but Sam was left there. "You're not useful to me dead Sammy boi." The demon circled him. "What's the best kind of torture, love?" M/n seemed to move for the first time getting right in front of Sam dropping to his knees being face to face with him. Cupping the beaten cheek of the hunter in his s/c hand his white clouded orbs turned the lively e/c giving a sympathetic look before it switched off. "Physiological." Sam didn't notice the room shifted into their old apartment tears pooled in those e/c eyes. "Where were Sammy?" A hiccup in between silent cries ended the sentence as a scene played out of M/n on the phone trying to talk to Sam before it cut off. "I needed you!" A scene of M/n chained to a wall seeing figures of his past hurt him till he gave in. "You were mine. And you threw it all away, threw me away like garbage!" The images went to Sam being with girls, but he could see familiar h/c hair in the background.

Tears rolled down Sam's face as white eyes filled his vision the eyes he loved fading away. What felt like hours happened in only a few seconds and within those seconds Sam was broken. He buried his face into the palm still cupping his cheek. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!' Sam would do anything for his M/n back even if it meant killing the monster his father has become. A gentle kiss stopped the trail of tears. "You are mine."

~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Quote= I love you. Hold on to that, never let that go. -The Vampire Diaries

Tagged: @spnquotebingo

First male reader it was fun.

[sugakoni]

single mom!reader (leon x f!reader)

PART 1 |

(a/n) sorry for the delay in this part. i have been really busy and super bleh because of my antidepressants, but tonight i finally feel like writing. this is part 2 of 5, and next part uhhh... might get a little spicy. don't say i didn't warn you lmao. - zee

word count: 1656

contains: angst to an extent

warnings: light swearing, fighting, panic attacks

paring: leon kennedy x fem!reader (single mother)

(feel free to leave requests!) (leon kennedy playlist)

story under the cut

Staggered breaths were heard inside the house, followed by a loud cough. The area of Spain you were in was surprisingly cold, and the cabin you were in wasn’t helping any, considering how run down it was. Your gun was in your hand, following behind Leon as you kept watch on anything that could happen behind the man.

Leon turned the corner, and you did the same. Seeing a man who was currently filling his fireplace with wood, poking and prodding at it in the mean time.You raised an eyebrow, keeping your gun in your hand as Leon cleared his throat.

“Excuse me, sir, I am Leon Kennedy. I was wondering if you have seen this girl.”

The man turned back at him, speaking in Spanish in a very angry manner. You pursed your lips together, Leon giving you a shrug.

“Leon! Look out!” You yelled, firing your gun at the man who rose an axe towards your partner. You shot at his head multiple times, before he finally fell to the ground. Noises were heard outside, and Leon took it upon himself to look out through the window. You let out a breath that you didn’t even realize you were holding, before looking out the window with Leon and seeing a lot more people.

“Shit,” Leon muttered, making sure his gun was loaded before pushing you to go towards the stairs.

“I know what I’m doing, Kennedy,” you sassed, going up the stairs quickly with him following behind. He let out a huff, grabbing a few things of ammo that he found in drawers and handing it to you. You put them into your bag, shaking your head as you found some herbs. The sound of a door breaking down was heard downstairs, which caused your eyes to widen.

“There!” You called out, pointing at the window.

“Good eye,” Leon replied, going to jump out. You bit at your lip, hearing the villagers walking around downstairs before you eventually jumped down yourself, being caught by Leon. You let out a cough, Leon having a shit eating grin on his face before you pulled your gun out and shot 3 villagers behind him.

The blonde placed you back down on the ground, starting to run farther away from the village people. You sighed quietly to yourself, following behind as per usual. You knew something was up here, not normal, and just like Raccoon City.

You put Raccoon City in the back of your mind as Hunnigan called Leon, and you stood to the side listening through your ear piece. You kicked at some rocks, thinking about your son and what he could be doing at home. A huff left Leon’s mouth, ending the call with Hunnigan.

“Ashley is around here somewhere,” Leon spoke out, putting an end to your thoughts. You looked over at him, giving him a nod.

“No shit.”

“Hey, I know you have something going on, but that attitude of your’s needs to leave,” Leon snapped, running a hand through his hair. You raised an eyebrow.

“MY attitude? I am so sorry that I had to leave my nine year old son behind to go on a mission to find the President’s dumbass daughter!” You exclaimed, to which he rolled his eyes. The stress the two of you had from your recent encounters was prominent in this conversation, and you put your hands up slightly.

“You know what. You’re right. Sorry for making you upset, Kennedy,” You spoke sarcastically, walking away from the other. Leon’s jaw clenched, following behind you and grabbing your wrist, turning you to face him.

“Stop being a brat.”

“You’re being the brat,” You seethed, shaking his grip off of you as you head towards another cabin. Leon sighed, knowing he messed up by snapping at you. The two of you trekked to the cabin ahead, opening the door and looking around.

“Here,” you spoke, going to move something out of the way of a doorway. Leon gave a nod, going into a room and hearing commotion in the wardrobe in the corner. You followed after grabbing things in the other room, seeing Leon opening the wardrobe door.

All of a sudden, you felt immense pressure in your head and the whole world went black.

-----------

The smell of rotting walls is what awoke you. Pain shot through your head, wrists bound behind you. Your eyes fluttered open, seeing two men in front of you. The one Leon was tied up to was unfamiliar, but he must’ve been in that wardrobe Leon opened up.

“Leon?” You called out. He seemed to have been in the middle of a conversation with the man he was tied up to, showing him the picture of Ashley.

“Y/n, are you alright?” Leon asked, to which you gave a slight nod. Luis looked over to you.

“Ah, senorita, they must’ve hit you hard,” he spoke out, giving a sympathetic smile. You gave a nod again, not feeling up to talking as the pain in your head was searing. Leon sighed to himself, putting the photo of Ashley back into his pocket. You must’ve missed a bit of their conversation.

Loud footsteps were heard outside, which caused you to snap your head up. You saw a giant man walk in. Your eyes felt a bit heavy, desperately trying to keep them open before you slipped off into another slumber.

Snapping awake, you felt something warm pressed against your right arm. Your eyes were wide, sweat sticking to your skin as you looked up at the person who held you. Leon.

You still felt angry at him, but you decided to put that in the back of your head. He looked down at you, hearing your ragged breathing.

“Hey, sleepy head. I have been carrying you around for what feels like ages,” he murmured, placing you back down again. You sighed, rubbing the back of your head.

“I’m sorry… I just feel so sick,” you muttered, before tears started to stain your cheeks. You were tired, and you didn’t know why. And you felt out of touch with reality. Leon’s concern grew for you.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” He asked, rubbing your back. You shook as you cried, falling to your knees.

Panic rose in you, thinking about how you woke up some when you were held captive and something being put into your neck. You immediately looked up at Leon.

“They put something in me,” you expressed, starting to feel yourself become sick.

“Y/n, I am sure you’re fine-”

“Fine?! How can I be fine?! What if I turn into one of them?!” You screamed at him, covering your face afterwards. You thought about Adrian, and how he would potentially have to grow up without his mommy. He was already growing up without a father figure, you couldn’t imagine having him lose you now. You looked down, opening your locket as your breathing was labored. You couldn’t stop the panic, but you could calm down your tears. The adrenaline was already pumping hard through your veins, as you shakily touched the face of your son, and glanced towards the face of your late boyfriend.

“Who is that?” Leon asked, looking down at the locket. You glanced up, his face had softened.

“My late boyfriend… he… he turned into one of those monsters in Raccoon City… right in front of me and Adrian,” you mumbled, closing it. Leon frowned, helping you up from the ground. You composed yourself quickly, starting to go the way you assumed you were to go.

-------------

The plane you were in was whirring loudly, about to take off. You were currently sitting in front of Ashley Graham and the President, with Leon right beside you. Your mission was a success, but the trauma that both you and Leon had experienced on the way was enough to make you never want to work for the government again. But, this is all you had.

The President got up from his seat, walking towards the front of the plane. You looked at Ashley, who was currently looking at Leon in a loving way. A pit formed in your stomach, and you didn’t know if it was jealousy. You looked out the window, seeing the ocean, and clouds… and more ocean.

Unbeknownst to you, but known to Ashley, Leon was looking at you the same way Ashley was looking at him. He didn’t know why, but he felt even more attracted to you after the events you two had endured. You knew that it would be a few days until you could see your son, since you have to give information to your agency and other government officials, but at the end of the day, your son was now your number one priority again.

“Why her?” Ashley spoke out, her eyes going wide as both you and Leon looked at her. Her face flushed to a bright red color, before she excused herself, going to wherever her father was.

“What was that for?” You mumbled, playing with your hands. You looked over at Leon, smiling a bit as you felt your heart swell up.

“I don’t know… but at least she is gone, her staring was getting annoying,” Leon chuckled, which caused you to giggle. You bit at your lip, seeing his hand on the armrest. You moved your smaller one to lay on top of it, your fingers intertwining.

“Thank you,” You whispered, “for getting me back safe.”

“I made a promise, didn’t I? How about we celebrate tonight, everything on me,” Leon said smugly, which caused you to blush.

“Yeah, yeah lover-boy… I’ll give you a chance,” You said with a grin, looking back out the window and taking your hand away from his. You missed the warmth, but you didn’t want to deal with Ashley’s whining.

Maybe staying away from home for a few more days wouldn’t be so bad...

tag list:

@cicatraize

[into-the-daniverse]

Jacqui’s Masterlist

His Tags

✨ Jacqui ✨ Jacqui Vibes | inspiration, quotes, pictures, etc. ✨ Art of Jacqui | commissions, gifts, etc. ✨ Fic of Jacqui | fic not by me ✨ Jacqui’s Playlist | if you can keep your head

Full Name: Jacqui Larrieux-Desroche

Nicknames

“Jacq” mostly by Rodrigo, “Dad” by Keean

General Age: 38

Birthday: December 10th

Gender/Sexuality: Bisexual man (he/him)

Astrology: Sagittarius Sun, Aquarius Moon, Scorpio Rising

Patron Arcana: Ten of Wands

Upright — weight on shoulders, overloaded, repression

Reversed — duty-bound, resigned to fate, learning to say no

all other information + ship fics under the cut!

Important Relationships

Madeline Larrieux, she/her — Jacqui’s mother

Andre Desroche, he/him — Jacqui’s father

Rodrigo Luis Aguilar, he/him — Jacqui’s best friend/lover of almost 20 years

Keean, he/they — Jacqui’s adopted son

Saoirse, they/them — Jacqui’s close friend of about 15 years

Favorite Meal: Diri Djon-Djon ak Kribich (Haitian Black Mushroom Rice with Shrimp)

Favorite Drink: Passion Fruit Juice

Favorite Flower: Jasmine

Magic: None

However, while Jacqui does not possess any specific magical proficiencies, he is still able to cast spells using charms and magical artifacts

He has memorized a number of simple spells but he can’t cast them without borrowing magic from someone else (like Jade) or channeling it through something like a staff 

He also has a photogenic memory which has allowed him to retain almost all of the information he learned during his time at the Sea Palace as a scholar

Other Skills: Can speak around 5 different languages and can read and write in at least twice as many, writing poetry, extremely strong, expert sharpshooter

Appearance

Height: 6′8″ (203cm) — not counting the heels on the boots he wears

Hair: Black, very long, type 4a curls that are usually kept in some kind of locs or twists and braided out of his face

Eyes: Molten gold

Details

Large scar on the left side of his face, stretches from almost his hairline to midway down his cheek, cutting through his eyebrow

Partly deaf in his right ear due to a poorly timed cannon explosion

Mostly wears silver jewelry, one lobe piercing in each ear and one bottom lip piercing

Likely to have his nails painted black, and he keeps his hands well taken care of

Background

Arcana Universe

Though Jacqui was born on an island off the coast of Zadith, in the Golden Gulf, he and his family lived in Zadith for most of his life. They were a wealthy family with small ties to the Sea Palace, and when Jacqui was old enough, he was sent to the Palace to continue his studies. He enjoyed his studies until he was 15.

The catacombs under the Sea Palace are a well-known secret, and generally scholars do not enter them unless being supervised by one of the Original Scholars or if they were invited. But Jacqui accidentally found himself down there after a long night of studying and a few wrong turns, and he witnessed something he was not supposed to.

When he tried to reach out to his parents to tell them about what he had seen, and begged for them to take him home, they ignored him, having been threatened by the Original Scholars that they would lose their standing with the Palace if anything about what Jacqui had seen got out. Instead, he was treated like a prisoner of the Palace, allowed to continue to study but little else, his movements carefully watched for four years.

Jacqui spent those four years reading up on whatever he could in the Palace’s library, determined to know as much as he could about their organization to one day use against them, and he made more and more journeys into the catacombs on his own. During his last trip into the catacombs, he stumbled across Rodrigo, then 16, and helped him escape, them both running to the Sea of Persephia to begin their new lives away from the Palace.

However, the Palace was not keen on letting them go, and one of the Scholar’s bounty hunters, and a pirate captain himself, Syd, was sent after the two of them, to bring them back to the Palace dead or alive.

After spending a few years running from Syd, Rodrigo secured a ship, naming himself a pirate captain, and Jacqui his quartermaster. Once they attended their first Quinquennial Pirate Meeting in Ethari with the Pirate Queen Meredith, they were protected under the Code, and Syd could no longer chase them, also bound by the Code to not harm them.

After sailing for a few more years, when Jacqui was 31, the crew of El Corazon Sangrante rescued a 7 year old boy named Keean, and Jacqui took it upon himself to raise the kid as well as he could. The rest of the crew helped, including Rodrigo, but Keean connected the most with with Jacqui, eventually calling him “Dad.”

During the events of the game, Jacqui and the rest of the crew of El Corazon are patrolling the Sea of Persephia, and largely do not feature in any of the game routes.

Modern AU

Jacqui was born in Miami, Florida, but spent most of his life in Hollywood, Florida with his family. He met Rodrigo in high school, and the two of them decided to move across the country to LA, California, after they graduated.

Once there, they both went a little off the rails with their new-found freedom, but eventually they settled into the frantic life around them. Jacqui worked mainly as a bartender at a dive bar until Rodrigo decided he wanted to try and form his own band with a few friends they had made, and Jacqui joined him.

Ship Fics

✨ Jacqui x Sun Bai | baiqui

by me

Roses 🍋

Kiss Prompts — Sneaking away to share a hidden kiss

Chasing Cars — Winter Ship Prompt 17

by @asras3rdeye

Goosebumps 🍋

✨ Jacqui x Andrico

by @ilyamatic​

It Happened The Moment When You Were Revealed

✨ Jacqui x Rodrigo x Amparo

by @sunrisenfool

Two is a Crowd, Three is a Party 🍋

[a-supernatural-writer]

Lost in the Shadows Pt.4

Previous Part Next Part

Word Count: 2801

FemOC x Poly Lost Boys

A pink and blue sugary sweet entered Vanessa’s mouth. She hummed in enjoyment as the cotton candy instantaneously melted in her mouth. She loved the treat. Anything cotton candy or even a sweet that had the pink and blue color combination sent her into a giddy state of being. 

She was leaning against the railing of the boardwalk with a set of stairs leading down to the beach right next to her. 

It’s been a very long time since she’s been to a beach town. The group's previous home was New Orleans. Filled with swamps and bayous, smoke filled bars, and jazz playing almost every single night. 

Vanessa didn’t dislike their previous home, it was just starting to become too repetitive for her. She loved jazz but was soon losing her mind hearing the same things over and over again. Their own rock band that they formed was at the bottom of the totem pole because of the music genre. 

So, that’s when Vanessa suggested that they moved. Find somewhere new where their band would be appreciated. And what better place than California? Especially a small beach town that was always looking for performers. 

Santa Carla was perfect. It was a hub for strange people. People like them. Well, not entirely like them but close enough. 

Not to mention, more often than not, she was feeling a strange pull towards the beach town. Over the past few years it was getting stronger and stronger. She talked to the others about it and that convinced them even more to move to Santa Carla. 

The others had a theory that made Vanessa practically itching her skin. The theory that her mate could be roaming around. And that freaked her out to no end. Her and her group have been around for over a few hundred years and only now she was getting a pull? 

The group chalked it up to whether her own mate either turned into a vampire or it was a desire that both her and her mate wanted. Companionship. 

Vanessa didn’t outright ever admit she wanted companionship in the sense of love or romance. She was perfectly content with her own coven. 

But having a mate was a romantic situation. Sarah and Danielle are mates and so is Timothy and Luis. They were already all together before they changed, so not much changed to their dynamic. 

Vanessa only guessed that deep down, she wanted it. She wanted what her friends had. Someone to be with and to rely on in a different way. 

Vanessa frowned as she finished the last bit of her dinner, leaving nothing but the plastic bag behind. She crumpled up the plastic in her hands and tossed it into the trash can down below on the beach. 

She still had a little time before she had to meet up with her friends. And the night would end with them maybe grabbing an extra bite to eat down at the beach. 

She reached into her back pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes that was slowly dwindling and would have to get a new pack by tomorrow night. 

A single cigarette was plucked from the pack and Vanessa held it in between her lips as she put the pack in her back pocket and fished her lighter out in the other one. It was a gold lighter with her full name and a butterfly engraved on it. It was a present from her parents when she changed completely. 

Cupping the cigarette with one hand, she flicked the lighter that was at the tip of the nicotine. Vanessa started to growl in frustration as the lighter wasn’t igniting. She stopped her attempts to get it to work and shook it up against her ear. 

“Fucker.” Vanessa groaned when she couldn’t hear any lighter fluid sloshing about. She was so busy bringing everything into their new place this morning and getting all the necessary paperwork done that she forgot to refill it. 

She reluctantly placed her lighter back into her pocket but kept the cigarette in her mouth. Maybe she could find someone with a lighter on hand? 

“Need a light?” A lighter was held up by a leather gloved hand. 

Vanessa’s eyes that were hidden behind her black sunglasses trailed up the arm and then landed on their face. 

If that pull wasn’t strong before, it was now. She could feel her inside turning and twisting. The pull was much stronger, but it still seemed incomplete. Like it was waiting for more. 

The owner of the lighter was a guy around her age. He had a platinum blonde mullet that almost looked white but it was nowhere close to her own white colored hair. He had stubble of the same color and icy blue eyes that looked like it could pierce through her heart. Thank god that her heart was half dead so it wasn’t beating like a drum. 

Not only did the leather gloves surprise her, but his whole wardrobe did. He had two coats on which was a leather jacket underneath a black trench coat. Weird combination but it really worked for him. She saw a black shirt underneath those layers but she couldn’t tell what kind of shirt it was because it seemed to be hidden. A pair of leather pants that anyone can salivate over and ankle boots that had… Were those spurs? 

Vanessa hid a smile behind her cigarette. She only concluded that he was old enough to have lived through the old western days. Maybe it stuck with him so much that he carried that piece of his life all these years. 

She knew he was a vampire, a fully turned one cause she could not only smell it on him, but she felt deep within her blood. 

“You have no idea.” Vanessa answers him. She cups her hand around the lighter as he ignites it, lighting up the end of her cigarette. She pulls back, inhaling it deeply, the ends of it burning as she breathes it in. 

Vanessa watches as he himself takes a cigarette he had placed behind his ear, placing it in between his own lips and joining her. She breathes out smoke, tapping the ends of ashes over the side of the railing, “Thanks. I thought I was gonna lose it for a second.” 

He smiled a little, breathing out his smoke, “I saw you struggling, and wanted to help.” 

Vanessa smirked, she felt him trying to prod her mind. But since she was much older than he was, she had much more experience in the field of mind games than him. She closed her mind to him, not letting him get past any of her defenses. And instead put out some fake thoughts that would appease him. 

But she was easily able to gain access to him without him knowing. And that’s when she learned that the pretty platinum blonde’s name was David. And so far, he thought she was human. He felt that same pull towards her. They both knew that they were each other's mate, but he thought she was oblivious to this pull. Just a naive little human. 

“Why do I feel like that’s just an excuse?” Vanessa asked, taking in another puff. 

David followed her actions, she will admit, guys who smoked like her surprisingly always put her off. But with David, it was a nice sight to see. 

David smirked a little, “Don’t know what you mean.” 

Vanessa wanted to laugh. Fucking tease. “Name’s Vanessa. I’d like to know the name of my hero of the night who encouraged my addiction.” 

“Vanessa…” David repeated her name. If he wasn’t dead, maybe his heart would’ve skipped a beat. His mate's name was Vanessa. It wasn’t a name he heard often, but it would soon become his favorite. 

David leans against the rail next to Vanessa, his coat covered shoulder just barely brushing against her bare ones. 

Vanessa blinked and then continued to smoke as if the slight touch didn’t affect her. Which was a huge fucking lie. It almost felt like a shock and damn it felt good. David was on the same page. Suppressing his urges. 

“My name is David. Hero of the night?” David smirked at Vanessa’s choice of words, “Such a compliment.” He continued to smoke as well, watching as the white haired female exhaled. 

Vanessa rolled her eyes, “Take it. Don’t give them out much. But seriously, thanks. Nerves have been crazy.” 

David nodded in agreement. His own nerves have been in a frenzy ever since he felt the pull towards her. He hid it well better than the others, smoking like a chimney ever since his mate set foot in Santa Carla. 

He felt it even more when he sensed her at the Boardwalk. His coven could feel her too. But being the leader of their group, he broke off first, trying to find her through the crowds of people. 

And when David saw her struggling with lighting her cigarette, the pull that he felt all but dragged David to her. He seized the opportunity and he was successful. He had control. 

Once again, Vanessa wanted to laugh. So he liked control? Interesting. But what amused her the most was the fact that he thought he was in control. He was strong, she gave him credit where credit was due. Hell, he was close to being on par with her. Just some more practice and he would be stronger than her. 

Vanessa was half vampire. She was strong in some areas but if a fully fledged vampire had enough time, they could easily beat her. 

“Been in Santa Carla long?” David asked. He already knew the answer to that but he wanted to hear it from her. 

Vanessa tapped off the last bit of ashes, taking her last puff, but before she could answer three news faces made their way over to the two of them and that’s when Vanessa almost lost her shit. 

That pull that felt with David grew in tenfold as the new faces came closer. And it felt complete. Vanessa wanted to let out a string of curses. She didn’t just have one mate, she had four. 

“Who’s the babe?” A guy with long blonde hair that was teased asked David as he hopped up to sit on the rail on Vanessa’s opposite side. He had sharp facial features and he had a blonde stubble as well, but not as noticeable as David’s. Pretty blue eyes that looked down at Vanessa with eagerness. He wore a black jacket that had some random pins and chains attached to it, a mesh tank top and white jeans that left very little to the imagination, brown worn out boots, and a bunch of random bracelets. 

One of the other ones who had a mop of very long golden blonde curls that he had tied back was standing next to the other blonde, smiling devilishly at her. Which was opposite of his angel face looks. He was the only one with a clean face which pushed his innocent soft look even more. His eyes were a shade of light brown that held mischief. A very colorful jacket filled with different pieces of tapestry, pins and patches was placed over a white crop top to which Vanessa thought was a nice choice for his body type. A pair of jeans that was covered by chaps, boots and fingerless leather gloves adorned his hands. 

And finally, a guy to which Vanessa thought fit every aspect of the phrase, tall, dark and handsome, stood next to David. Long dark brunette hair cascaded over his shoulders. He had a little bit of a stubble but not much. Deep brown eyes that were staring Vanessa down intensely. What shocked her a little was the fact that only a leather jacket with a jaguar on one sleeve and a necklace made from random items were the only things that was covering up his upper half. His tanned torso was just out in the open for everyone to see and Vanessa was very happy that she pretty much always wore her shades. He had a simple pair of black jeans and boots to finish off his look. 

Vanessa then noticed that all four of them wore a single dangling earring in their left ears. They were a coven. 

Vanessa and her coven had a similar jewelry accessory. All five of them had simple gold rings on their right thumbs. Things like that symbolized that you were part of their family, and that rule applied to most if not all vampire covens. 

Vanessa stomped out her finished cigarette as David introduced everyone to each other, “This is Vanessa. Vanessa, that’s Paul, Marko and Dwayne.” 

She nodded in acknowledgement at their names, “Hey.” She simply said. She wasn’t really trusting herself to say more at the moment. Four god damn mates. This was highly unexpected. 

David finished his own and repeated his question from before the others interrupted. 

Vanessa hummed, “Just got here today. My friends and I moved into our new place this morning.” 

“Oo!” Paul exclaimed, throwing his arm over Vanessa’s shoulder. For a second, she thought she was going to push him off from the shock she felt when their skin touched. She wondered if it affected Paul as much as it did her. 

“Where you from?” Paul continued. Paul did feel the same shock that Vanessa did. And it made him grin even more down at her. She was pretty, really pretty. The white hair looked hot on her and he so deeply wanted to see her eyes that were hidden from them. 

Vanessa felt her hand twitch, wanting to reach back and pull out another cigarette, “Not really from anywhere. We just moved from New Orleans.” She decided to go with the last place she called home. In reality, she hasn’t been home in over thirty years. 

Marko moved a little bit closer to Vanessa, desperately wanting to feel the same shock that David and Paul felt. He was itching to just even hold hands with his mate. 

“Pretty big move.” Marko comments, placing his thumb nail in his mouth and biting down on it. 

Vanessa couldn’t tell if that was a nervous tick of his or just something he repetitively did. She was leaning more towards being nervous just from his own thoughts. The action was cute though. 

“Very.” Dwayne grunts out. Vanessa could feel her chest tightening at how deep his voice was, her jaw even dropped a little. Oh his voice is not fair. 

The boys snickered among themselves at Vanessa. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought they were amused at her jaw dropping, but she did know better. She put that thought out in the open for all of them. Purely by accident. 

David’s pointer finger pushed up Vanessa’s jaw, drawing her attention to him. “So, what are you doing here all alone?” 

David’s finger gently trailed down the side of her neck. The leather making Vanessa involuntarily shiver. 

That question snapped Vanessa back to reality, “Actually, thank you for reminding me.” Vanessa pushed off the railing, parting from David’s touch, “I have to go.” 

Vanessa only made it two steps away from them when Marko’s hand snatched Vanessa’s wrist, “Where are you going? We could have some fun?” 

Vanessa looked back at Marko, a shock running up her arm and spreading through her entire body. Marko’s grip on Vanessa’s wrist tightened a little from the same shock. 

Biting her lip, Vanessa gently pulled away from Marko only to be stopped by Dwayne from behind. 

Vanessa flinched a little as Dwayne’s torso collided with her back, a shock coursing through both of their bodies at the touch, “Vanessa?” Dwayne asked, placing his big hands on her shoulders. 

Taking a moment to collect herself, Vanessa removes Dwayne’s hands and is fully able to back away from them. Disappointment flashed through their eyes, not wanting her to leave. 

Vanessa smiles softly at them. She knew they wanted to get to know her and be around her. Once a mate touched a mate, it was hard to even separate five feet away from each other. She just needed a breather. Four mates was a lot and she just needed one day to fully take it in. 

“I’m we could have a lot of fun…” Vanessa said to Marko, causing him to smile. Vanessa directed her attention back to David, “But, I’m afraid I have previous engagement.” 

“Nessa!” A female voice that belonged to Sarah called out in the distance. 

Vanessa wanted to kiss the ground she walked on. Her friends had perfect timing. Vanessa smiled, looking over her shoulder at her incoming friends, “Speak of the devils.”

[babbushka]

My Agent

Bond Villain!Kylo Ren x 007!Reader 

2.5k ; Content Warnings: It’s really way more tender than I anticipated lol but Light murder (gun violence & mention of blood), NSFW (Bondage/predicament bondage, fingering) 

Inspired by an idea from the ever wonderful @contesa-lui-alucard​!

[not my gif, please let me know if you happen to know the op so i can give proper credit!]

Kinktober Masterlist || Available on AO3

                                                   ------------------------

You can’t help but think this whole thing got blown way out of proportion. Really, you don’t know how things like this happen to you; by all accounts you should’ve been in and out with no problem – a routine mission sent by Mi6 to investigate some potential new threat to the peace of the world. That was all, just an investigation, and now look at you.

Deep underground in some evil villain’s volcanic lair, chained to a large steel beam on a platform that is slowly sinking into what can only be described as a river of magma. You’re a good ten meters away from it still, but the heat is unbearable, as the molten metals of the Earth bubble and hiss below your feet. Tugging on your restraints and trying to plan, you try to figure out some way to break these bonds so you can escape while the monologuing of this newest and most annoying megalomaniac drones on.

Ahead of you, standing on the middle of a dangerously narrow bridge that stretches across the red hot bubbling death trap you are being sent into, is your captor, and you’d very much like to free yourself if for no other reason than to get him to shut up.

That is, until, there’s a BANG!

The man falls forward, clutching at his stomach where a large red blood spot has begun to seep into his expensive suit, and standing behind him is none other than your arch rival, your nemesis, the notorious villain himself – Kylo Ren.

Dressed in a pristine white tuxedo, Kylo tucks his gun back into the holster concealed against his side in his jacket. He’s smiling, grinning in fact, and you want to roll your eyes, because of all the ways for him to see you, chained up like some damsel in distress isn’t one of your preferred scenarios.

Kylo kicks the shot man, your target, off the narrow bridge, and you both watch as his body falls into the depths with a hard smack before the bubbling gurgling spitting magma consumes him. It’s a bit brutal, but you would have done so yourself if you weren’t so, well, tied up.  

“Hello gorgeous.” After the last of the man’s flesh is burned and eaten away, Kylo begins a slow walk down the rest of the bridge.

“Oh not you again.” You groan, half amused and half irritated, in that way that Kylo always makes you.

He rests at the edge of the bridge, looking down at you where the platform continues to descend. You’re not afraid though, not now that he’s here. Glancing behind him way on the other side of the volcano, you can just barely make out the forms of his henchmen standing at the control panels which safely sit behind thick glass windows.

“What, not happy to see me?” He raises his scarred brow. He’s entirely too casual, stuffing his hands in his pockets while he looks down at you, watches you sink ever more towards the magma.

“No, Mr. Ren. I had everything perfectly under control.” You lie. Well, maybe it’s not a lie, but you’re sure you could’ve figured something out had he not shown up. You’ve gotten yourself out of stickier situations than this, after all, you weren’t the top agent for nothing.

“Of course you did.” Kylo shakes his head and grins, “Here I thought I was helping.”

“If you really wanted to help, you would’ve stopped this platform from sinking.” You point out.

The heat is starting to become anxiety-inducing, just from the sheer proximity of it. You saw what happened to the man, to your captor, and your heart starts to pound at the thought of that happening to you. Especially when Kylo shrugs and shakes his head.

“Hmm, no I don’t think I will.” He replies, making you scowl.

“Kylo!” You shout at him angrily, your voice sharp enough that he winces.

“I’m just teasing.” He says quickly, before looking back over his shoulder towards the henchmen who are watching carefully and calling to his favorite, “Slip! Reverse it, bring her back up.”

Relief floods through you as the hydraulics hiss and the machines whirr to reverse the direction of your movement. Smoothly, the platform raises and carries you back to relative safety away from the magma, clicking and settling into place at the edge of the bridge where Kylo is anxiously waiting for you.

He doesn’t bother to wait until the platform settles all the way, stepping onto the platform as it still moves up to cup your cheeks in his hands and kiss you. His mouth is insistent on yours, unyielding, and despite how he is certain to make you go grey at your young age, you long to hold him.

“Are you alright?” Kylo asks, pulling away to search your face, your eyes. His are so brown, even the scarred one, the damage there not doing anything to inhibit the sheer depth of his gaze. “Answer me honestly.”

“I’m fine, I promise.” You nod, because really for all intents and purposes, you are fine. There’s nothing much wrong with you aside from the soreness in your shoulders from being chained up like this. It could have gone much worse, if Kylo hadn’t shown up when he did. In fact, you can’t help but ask, “What are you even doing here?”

“I told you, helping.” Kylo smiles and kisses you again, “You’re my agent, no one else gets to kill you but me.”

The sentiment makes you chuckle against his lips, and he grins, his endearingly crooked teeth biting into his lower lip.

“How romantic.” You roll your eyes, before your curiosity gets to the better of you and you can’t help but ask, “How did you find me?”

Kylo looks at you and tenderly puts a hand on your cheek, his thumb rubbing against your lower lip ever so slightly. He looks at you like you put the stars in the sky, because to him, you do. He’s told you as much, on those many instances where he whisks you away to some beautiful tropical island to give you a break from the headache of work.

“The same way I always find you, and the same way I will always find you.” He breathes.

“There’s a tracker in my car, isn’t there.” You suck across your teeth and ne nods at once.

“And in your shoe, and in your gun, and in your lipstick.” He reaches into your shirt where he knows you have a tube of your favorite color tucked securely into your bra. He snatches it and pops open the cap, showing a small homing beacon. “I know you never go anywhere without your lipstick.”

“I hate you.” You laugh, incredulous at the way he’s so…so…Kylo.

“You’re welcome.” He kisses you once again.

You go to reach for him once again, wanting to get your fingers in his silky smooth hair, when you realize you’re still chained up.

“Kylo?” You ask against his mouth, and he hums, his eyes closed as he kisses at the corner of your lips.

“Yes, Agent?”

“Aren’t you going to free me?” You ask, and he pulls back with a blink, realizing that he never actually undid the bondage that is keeping you here. Not that you’d go anywhere, now that he’s here, you’d stay with him, you both know it.

Still, he gets this look in his eye that makes you groan, because you know you’re really in for it now.

“Hmmm, no. No, I don’t think I will, not yet anyway.” He chews on the inside of his cheek and calls to his henchmen again, “Leave us. Wait in the chopper until we come out.”

You can see behind him that the henchmen do as they’re told, and you wonder if they must have killed everyone else who was already here, already working for the man who captured you.

Kylo waits until they’re out of view, before turning back to you and smoothing his hands up your body. He likes this, likes feeling you, even over your garments. Something about it reinforcing the fact that you’re real, that you’re here with him. Or, you suppose, that he’s here with you.

“I like this place, I might just absorb it now that Mr. Monocle down there won’t be needing it anymore.” Kylo regards the volcano with interest as his hands skim across your stomach, your sides. “What do you say, would you have dinner with me tonight? It’s very atmospheric.”

He’s got a point, the place really could be beautiful if outfitted nicely. You remember snooping through the less actively dangerous spaces, all the banquet halls and the residential rooms. There was something to be said for having a nice lair, you thought – not that Kylo didn’t have enough as it were.

“I don’t know why you bother asking, when you know the answer is always going to be yes.” You say truthfully.

“Because I like to hear you say it.” Kylo’s nose brushes against yours, his eyes slipping closed as his hands reach around you and hug you tight. You wish you could hug him back, but you know he’ll free you soon. He kisses the corner of your mouth, your cheek, your jaw, “Have dinner with me. I’ve brought you something to wear and everything.”

Of course he did, he knows you too well. Although, you can’t help but let out a huff of laughter at the thought of eating dinner with him in his finest tuxedo, and you still wearing your all-black spy ensemble.

“Yes.” You breathe, trying your best to push your body against his more fully.

“Yes?” He repeats, although this time, you know what he’s really asking. One of his hands slip back around to your front, and his fingers just barely tease at the waistband of your tight pants.

“Yes, Kylo, please.” Your heart beats loudly, you wonder if he can hear it.

He grins, and with deft fingers, he pops open the button of your pants and slides his big palm underneath the cotton of your panties and against the heat of your pussy. He hums out happily to see that you’re wet for him, because of course you are, you were wet the moment he killed that sonofabitch who had chained you up.

Two of Kylo’s fingers work their way into you slowly, savoring the feeling of your walls clenching and squeezing around him. You lean your head back against the steel post, and Kylo corrals one of your legs around his hip so he can get a better angle to finger you more easily.

“Kylo…” You gasp as he kisses you.

The kiss is slow, unhurried, just as his fingers are. He strokes against your walls, his rough thumb coming to rub and stroke and push at your clit. You can only think of the pleasure you feel, although somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re reminded of those lazy island afternoons where he eats you out for hours on end, and can only imagine that that’s what’s in store for you after dinner.

“You’re safe with me.” Kylo whispers, and you nod, because you know it’s true. You know he’d never hurt you, no matter how much he was supposed to.

A third finger joins his other two, and you moan, the sound echoing into the magma. It swallows your voice up, the way your pussy swallows his fingers, and your hips begin to grind down on his palm, seeking more friction than he’s willing to give you. You find that you like being restrained like this – you would only like it with Kylo, but still. Still, the thrill of the situation, of trusting him so completely as he pleasures you, it makes sparks tingle up your spine.

He smiles, and if you were to open your eyes you’d see him nearly cross-eyed looking at you as he speeds his hand up. You’re sweating, you’ve been sweating because of the heat from the volcano but now you’re sweating because of him, and your moans grow louder and louder.

“Kylo I’m – faster, I’m close.” Your mouth drops open into a pretty O as he does as he’s told, shoving his body as close to you as possible, fingers crooking inside your cunt to search for your gspot.

It’s hard with this angle, hard with all your clothing, but when your body writhes and pulls at its restraints harder, he knows he’s found it. He moves faster faster faster until your entire body shakes and curls in towards him, a sharp gasp as your eyes fly open and you blink rapidly, pleasure swimming through your veins.

“I missed you.” You say softly, vulnerable as your orgasm sings through you, as he kisses and licks up the sweat on your throat.

“I missed you more.” He fingers you still, milks your orgasm for all that he can, and stars and spots and fireworks pop gently behind your eyelids. It’s not earth-shattering, but it’s with Kylo, and that’s enough to make you gush on his fingers, enough to make you dizzy.

“Not everything has to be a competition.” You quirk a brow, turning your face to capture his lips once more, obsessed with the way they feel against yours. Your mouth tingles, lips swollen and plump from all his attention, and he smiles.

“Yes it does.” He’s too much, cheeky, you love him.

You’ll never say it, but you love him.

“Thank you, for saving me.” You say instead.

He can hear the words anyway, you know he can.

Kylo pulls his hand away from your pussy and sucks his fingers into his mouth, licking the taste of you off of him, cleaning himself up and humming with satisfaction around the digits that were just buried inside your cunt.  

“Always. I meant what I said, you’re my agent.” He winks at you.

And you know that another time, you’ll be shooting at one another. You’ll be dodging the traps he sets for you and he’ll be dodging your bullets. He’ll have his henchmen and you’ll have backup, and you’ll be back at each other’s throats, nothing more than 007 and Mr. Ren, nothing more than spy and villain, rivals, enemies.

But…

But it’s starting to become less and less real, this rivalry. It’s starting to become more and more performative, while you plan, while you plot. Keeping up the façade while you buy yourselves some time. Because you know, you both know you’ll join him one day. You’ll join him and you’ll never again have to wake up without him beside you like you have been doing these lonely months.

He unties you, a simple press of a button just out of reach on the bindings, and all of them pop open with a hiss. You smile, and massage your shoulders, roll the joints there to wake them up. Kylo offers his arm to you, and you take it, looking up at him with a smile as you ask,

“What’s for dinner?”

[japannkenn]

(Luca) Summer Heat (rated M) (unpublished/random pieces that I wrote)

Luca doesn’t like children, which is weird, because he technically is one? (He hadn’t been eighteen for that long, and things still felt the same) He does feel bad about it. He’d dealt with them over his years of study in Genova which was always a hassle, but it wasn’t his fault.

He didn’t know why he was intimidated by a couple of adolescents, just on the brink of consciousness of the world around them. Not old enough to worry about things bigger than how fast they can eat their gelato before it melted in the summertime heat.

He guesses he’s one to talk. Even if it’s been three years, he doesn’t feel like he knows anything. He may not be much better than these kids. He doesn’t know who he is. He thought he did. He thought he was starting to figure it out.

That’s why it’s so shocking to see how second nature Alberto is around a band of rowdy twelve year olds in the water, teaching them how to swim. And maybe they weren’t rowdy—just much too much for Luca to handle. He can’t believe how patient he is, how he humors their antics and how easy it is for him.

And he can’t believe how good he looks in that tiny red Bagnino tank top, iridescent purple scales shimmering in the sunlight, practically calling him.

Luca knew this was going to happen, so he brought a book to look down at if Alberto happened to turn back and steal a glance, lest he be caught staring. Because that would be the end of the world considering some of the things they’d done already.

There was a squiggly, fine line to their relationship.

And besides, he wasn’t good with kids. But it was fun to watch anyway. It doesn’t mean he didn’t feel bad.

“Va bene,” Luca hears him laugh from the water, a young girl looking up at him with a red tinge to her cheeks that definitely wasn’t from the setting sun. “If you can hold your breath for ten seconds, I’ll buy you another gelato.”

“Really? And I can pick the flavor?” Her eyes sparkle.

Alberto pauses comically. “No, no. I still get to pick the flavor,” his voice is giggly, and Luca’s heart wants to burst with affection and love.

“Hey! Non è giusto, you have to buy me one too!” A little boy pops up from under the water, eyebrows furrowed up at Alberto.

“Twenty seconds, then?”

“See that one right there?” He points to the same ragazza that he promised a gelato after he’d come back on the shore for a short break, sitting down beside Luca in the sand.

“Uh-huh,” he watches her as she makes a show of back stroking, glancing curiously at Alberto.

“She’s got a massive crush on me.”

Luca scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Ah, I bet that gets your ego nice and excited doesn’t it?”

“Oh yeah,” he jokes, unwrapping an energy bar from his bag. He takes a bite, a quiet moment passes by and Luca awkwardly looks back down at his book. “Nah. I’m just wondering what I did to make her see me that way.” He says idly.

Luca chews his lip anxiously, incredulous. He starts to wonder if this was a trap. What was Alberto trying to do to him?

Whatever it was, it was working.

The Vespa was surprisingly still in commission, ready for a summer of rides down The Downhill, through the narrow roads, twists and turns to the piazza.

But Luca preferred Giulia’s bike whenever he could if she wasn’t using it. But he’d never admit it out loud that the reason he likes pedaling instead is because he thinks it’ll help him become more like Alberto. Physically, anyways. He was quite jealous, really, in this delicious, sensual way.

Actually, he thinks he’d tell Alberto the reason, if only he would ask. He wishes he would ask. He probably never would, because it was almost like he already knew.

“Don’t you wanna ride your fancy Vespa instead? Why do you need my bike?” Giulia even asks one day, putting Luca on the spot as he’s hopping on for a twenty minute cycle around the piazza.

“Let him use it. He needs the exercise,” Alberto says coolly from the porch, Machiavelli slung helplessly over his shoulder as he’s bringing him back inside from a bath.

Luca’s heart drops, his face burning red.

It’s almost annoying how bold Alberto is about it. No, it definitely is annoying. And Luca is tired of being constantly envious of his ever growing muscles. “Everyone’s bodies are different, you know?”

Luca glares at him. He’s trying to wash the dishes and not even Alberto was a fun distraction anymore. Just plain annoying. Stupid, dumb Alberto. “Haha,” he sulks.

“What works for me may not work for you,” he shrugs, scratching at his chin and appraising Luca’s body for a moment. What’s worse is that Luca can feel it, each little thought in his mind. What’s even worse is that in a matter of days, he’d become so self conscious about something he hadn’t ever thought about for more than five minutes.

Sure, he’d done his fair share of comparing himself to people, and especially Alberto. But he’d always had a summer fixation, whether that was a good or bad thing depended. It was always Alberto. And it wasn’t always good.

“If you’re really that worried about it, I can help you.”

Luca pauses, squeezing the sudsy dish sponge in his scaly hand. His first thought is to be defensive about it, and he is, but it’s a much lighter approach when he says with a little chuckle for good measure, “I’m not that worried about it.”

“But you are,” Alberto outsmarts him in that easy breezy way, winning another point for the Fluster Luca game. “Just a little. Right?”

When he turns to glare at his asshole of a friend again, he’s got that grin on his face, like he’d proven something, caught Luca in another lie the same way he could when they were fourteen, knowing and unbothered. It’s annoying.

Grumbling, he forces his attention back to vigorously scrubbing some dried alfredo off of a dinner plate. “I could give you training lessons. Just me and you.”

To keep from short circuiting, Luca laughs again, awkwardly.

Training started at eight in the morning the next day, on the beach. Alberto says they need open space to promote a healthy work environment, but Luca just feels put on the spot. He relied on the fact that Portorosso was a sleepy town, and it was unlikely that anyone would be awake this early. Besides the pescheria. Which is probably eighty percent of this town’s population.

Carp.

“Like this?” He asks breathlessly, trying to keep in tune with a swift jog in place, his entire body burning for all of the wrong reasons, not that he feels his ten-pack forming, but he can tell Alberto is watching him. Hard.

Alberto hums, scratching his chin. “No.”

***

Ferragosto this year is when he platonically-maybe-not-so-romantically falls in love with Alberto and Giulia all over again. They’ve got her old radio blasting the anthem of summer’64, il gatto e la volpe, and Luca can’t explain how excited he is to hear it again.

Fireworks burst over the astounding view from The Downhill. They’re finally old enough (well, excluding Giulia, but two legal adults were enough) to be out on their own under the influence of at least two glasses of wine.

It wasn’t that much, but Luca can’t help how giggly he feels, throwing his head back to sing, “Noi scopriamo talenti e non sbagliamo mai,” at the top of his lungs, delighted when Giulia takes the next verse.

“Noi sapremo sfruttare le tue qualità!” Her voice is shaky and cracks unexpectedly, but to Luca, it’s like music to his ears. Another firework rockets to the sky, bursting loudly.

“Dacci solo quattro monete e ti iscriviamo al concorso,” Alberto sings next, stumbling over the words and his voice is incredibly off key, but Luca beams at him, suddenly wanting to cry.

“Per la celebrità!” They all sing together, bursting into a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

He never wants this to end. He wishes this bottle of wine were bottomless, so that the three of them could lay here in the grass forever underneath the inky black sky, lit up by colorful explosions, wiggling his toes freely in the wet grass, his two favorite people in the entire world right by his side, just like every summer.

But it’s going to end. It always did. That was the reality of it, and he always faced it. But just for a little longer, he could enjoy it knowing there was always next year. For now, he could be irresponsible and enjoy this. A little longer.

He reaches over, turning the radio up to the highest volume, cheering loudly over it.

Lui è il gatto ed io la volpe, stiamo in società

Di noi ti puoi fidar,

di noi ti puoi fidare,

di noi ti puoi fidar

There’s plenty of places to makeout in Portorosso, but somehow they’d ended up behind the house because—oh, now he remembered—it’s almost time for dinner, and they wanted to be back before sundown.

Admittedly, Luca was disappointed that nothing intense had happened on their little day trip to Isola del Mare, and to him it was a waste. He never did well with mixed feelings, and he couldn’t help not being talkative on the walk back to the Marcovaldo household.

If Alberto asked, he’d just say he was tired. Which wasn’t exactly a lie, just not the whole truth— because, merda, the swim there and back really isn’t a cakewalk or anything. He felt near exhaustion, leaning slightly against Alberto as they stumbled down the narrow road, street lamps lighting the dusk night.

He doesn’t know what kind of person he’s becoming, but it most definitely isn’t practical.

He stumbles to trail along when Alberto unexpectedly yanks him behind the dark alley-like space between their house and a neighbor’s and Luca groans confusedly because he’s already a little frustrated with Alberto, even if it’s childish and petty.

“What are you—,” A flame ignites like an explosion in his chest when Alberto roughly slams him against the concrete wall by the shoulders, sucking in a deep breath when he feels his chest pressing firmly against his. “Why—,”

All Alberto does is laugh, and Luca would punch the stupid grin off of his face if he could see it in this light. “What’s that you said earlier? Sono felice? If that’s true then why haven’t you said anything since?”

Luca grumbles. “I’m just tired.”

“Uh-huh, right,” he says knowingly, releasing his tight grip on Luca’s shoulders to drop one arm by his side, the other hand planted firmly on the wall by his head instead. It makes Luca feel worse (better? He doesn’t know), the choice to leave or stay looming over him like a playful tease. “You’re upset I didn’t put my hand down your pants earlier, aren’t you?”

“Don’t make fun of me.” Luca’s face heats up and he makes a weird noise of repulsion. “It’s stupid of me, I know,”

“I’ll tell you what…”

Sometimes or more often than not this summer, he doesn’t recognize himself as a top student in Genova, or a loyal son who herded goatfish for most of his life. It’s weird feeling different and thinking about himself like this. And Alberto, his dear friend who showed him this new world above the surface, is now his lover, a little more than just a friend, all and everything in between, and he’s different.

It’s strange.

This was certainly… unexpected.

When they finally come inside right in time for dinner, they’re skittish, and Giulia gives them a look that’s definitely more knowing than confused, but she’s uninformed nonetheless, and Luca can’t help but giggle. He feels like a brat.

He accidentally bumps into Massimo, rustling away from Alberto’s tight grip on his arm. He mumbles a quick mi scusi, sitting down in his seat. “Lo giuro, ragazzi,” Giulia grumbles exasperatedly, setting down cups of water around the table.

Luca steals a glance at Alberto as he picks up his cup for a sip, darting his eyes away quickly when they make eye contact.

“Ragazzi.” Signor Marcovaldo says sternly, and Luca and Alberto flinch. “Help set the table.”

“Certo, certo, sorry about that, papà,” Alberto rushes to the counter, leaning over to take two plates at a time. He sets them on the table, getting the last two. Right as Luca decides he should get up and help too, Alberto is on his way back to the table and they narrowly miss stumbling into each other, Luca letting out a strained little chuckle as they stare stupidly at each other.

Giulia clears her throat loudly, arms crossed.

Luca and Alberto immediately look at her, breaking out into awkward laughs.

“What is it with you two? Veramente,” she takes a seat beside Alberto after he finishes setting down the plates. Luca is next to stand beside Massimo at the counter, grabbing silverware. He can feel his heavy gaze burning holes through his head as he quickly rinses them in the sink, and if he just hurried then—!

“Luca.” Massimo grumbles. Luca flinches again, willing himself to look up at the man towering above him.

“Si?”

“Calmati.”

Luca shivers, drying the forks quickly in a towel. “Oh, sì, scusa,” he rushes back to the table, giving everyone their silverware before shakily taking his seat again. He catches Alberto staring at him again, and he slightly raises his eyebrows like asking stai bene, and Luca nods quickly.

“For dessert, it’s tiramisu,” Signor Marcovaldo says as he sits down, and Alberto’s eyes light up and he gasps excitedly. “For that, you have Giulietta to thank.”

Alberto frowns. Giulia grins smugly at him, and Luca lets out his first real laugh of tonight. “Ah, come on. Can tonight get any worse?” Alberto groans half heartedly, absentmindedly twirling some pasta onto his fork.

“Sure it can. I helped strain the noodles,” Giulia jokes, her mouth full.

“Oh, is that why you’re feeling so tipo tosto tonight?”

“Of course. It’s more than you ever help out around here.”

[silvercrystalwhump]

Weddings and Wrecking Balls

TW: Owen Grant and everything that he entails, implied noncon, fear response to previous abuser,

Vincent Shield and Owen Grant belong to @ashintheairlikesnow

Tag List: @whumptywhumpdump

_

Vincent’s fingers run idly over the velvet seating of his limousine. Celebrity weddings are almost a yearly obligation of his to attend. Like clockwork, as spring rears its head a pair of camera-cooing stars drink until they forget about the temporary marriage they just created. To his disapproval, Vincent is expected to attend these events. His Publicist tries to get him in every photo, dance, and tabloid on the event as he could.

Today, however, is different.

Vincent looks up at Dmitri who sits across from him. Adorned in a pink suit and black tie that was a result of compromise.

“I’m still wondering how you managed to convince me to let you do that,” Vincent sighs as he takes a sip of water.

Dmitri, looking at Vincent, chuckles, “What? Getting the flamingo pattern for the inner lining of this suit. The only people that are going to see it are me and maybe you. Plus, MawMaw found it charming.”

“You are my plus one to the wedding of a world renowned fashion designer and an actress known for modeling,” Vincent says as he messes with the cuff of his suit jacket, “Please don’t tell anyone that you did that.”

“Oh please Vee, I look good in everything.”

Vincent rolls his eyes. The only reason he was comfortable with bringing him along is that Luis refused to have any paparazzi at the event. Only one of his photographers would be taking photos of the event and she would be glued to the married couple.

“I’m surprised you managed to get on good terms with Mary Anne,” Vincent says as he glances out the window, “In only a few minutes of conversation and she speaks the world of you.”

Dmitri gives Vincent a smile only he can give, “What can I say, people just love me.”

Vincent returns with a shrug and fusses a bit with his vest, “So do I.”

Dmitri smiles, “Calm Down Vee, your suit looks fine. We’re almost there and I doubt anything will go wrong since the love birds shooed off the cameras.”

He adjusts his tie for the fifth time since they left his house, running a finger over the purple and gold fabric. “I know, I wouldn’t have bought you if I wasn't certain.”

Dmitri reaches forward and takes one of Vincent’s hands. Pulling it away from him, Dmitri gives him a small kiss on the knuckles, “It’s gonna be okay Vee.” He squeezes the hand before letting it go.

Vincent nods just as the venue pulls into view. There are not the swarms of cameras that usually sit outside of these places. He puts the invitation in his hand and feels the car roll to a stop.

Dmitri gives Vincent a final smile before stepping out of the limousine. Vincent, throwing on his acting face, follows after.

The venue is relatively small compared to previous weddings he had attended in the past. It had a bit of charm about it that gave the place a welcome feel. Vincent flashes the invite to the doormen and they enter. Purple sashes and soft fairy lights draped from white columns and soft music plays in the background. People are already talking near the doors to the Procession.

“Vincent!” one of his costars and ex (sort of) walks towards them. Estelle, an actress with as much prestige as Vincent, if not more, steps up to them. “It's good to see you, who’s this?”

“Estelle this is Dmitri, Dmitri this is Estelle,” Vincent introduces the two.

“It's good to meet you,” Estelle smiles back.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Dmitri says, “If I may ask, aren’t you two-”

“Publicist reasons,” Estelle and Vincent say in unison, “Nothing personal.”

“Ah,” Dmitri nods, “I assumed as such.”

Estelle shakes her head, “Unless they disguise each other just assume that those breakups were for appessing paparazzi means.”

“That makes sense,” Dmitri says as his eyes scan the crowd.

Vincent looks up at the clock, 4:51. The Procession starts in about 10 minutes thankfully.

“Hey Vincent,” Estelle says, ripping Vincent out of LaLa land, “Were you here for Coriane and Anthony’s wedding last October?”

A laugh bubbles out of Vincent’s throat, “Of course, I had to send him four suits before I got approved for the obnoxious dress code.”

Dmitri chuckles, “Anthony McKay? Didn’t he divorce her within two months of that marriage?”

Estelle nods, “Here’s an interesting trend for you, the stricter the dress code at a celebrity wedding the shorter the marriage will last.”

Vincent shrugs, eyes dashing between the conversation and the door, “That was an explosive divorce.”

Dmitri and Estelle begin to talk and their voices slowly fade as Vincent zones out. His eyes unfocus and the lights seem to sparkle and twirl around in his vision. For a moment, he slinks into the background, enjoying the mindless chatter of those around him.

It’s nice.

“Question Vince,” Estelle stays drawing him back to reality, “How is that new show going? You haven’t committed to a show since you moved to your company now?”

“Oh you know…” Vincent starts as his eyes focus around a terrifyingly familiar tan sport coat, “I- sorry. Just liked the director, worked with him before.”

Estelle says something, but Vincent doesn’t hear it. Blond hair, almost matted in tiny places, combed but barely groomed… bile rises in his throat. He can’t move. Every fiber in his body coils in on itself and dies. The room gets too quiet yet far too loud. Please don’t turn around.

With the same nonchalant throw of his shoulder that he did in every laid-back situation he was ever in, he turns a heel, double-taking when he sees Vincent. A smile so harmlessly venomous that Vincent almost pukes right there and then. Owen Grant raises a hand and sends him a tiny wave.

“Vince the procession doors are open,” Estelle chirps, “You two can sit with us.”

“Thank you,” Dmitri says as his gaze wanders back to Vincent, “...Vince?”

Vincent, forcing himself to rip his eyes away from the omen of pain and death across the room, walks behind Estelle, “Coming.”

Dmitri steps up next to him, concern slowly materializing in the crease of his brow and behind his eyes, “You alright?”

“Just a long day.”

Dmitri pierces his lips but, to Vincent’s relief, doesn’t press the matter. They walk through the doors and Estelle sits next to another actress whose name is on the tip of Vincent’s tongue. He and Dmitri sit down next to them.

Vincent is too aware of the hairs rising on the back of his neck. It almost feels like he is existing under his skin, squirming but still simultaneously. His breathing is too loud, it’s almost deafening.

His eyes scan the room, barely glancing at the door. His eyes, for a spiral-inducing second, meet with glazed green. I’m going to puke.

Vincent can feel his presence choke him just as well as he did with his hands. Owen starts to talk and Vincent realizes with increasing horror-

He is sitting less than three feet right behind.

Everyone falls silent as the Procession begins. Vincent stares at the altarpiece and becomes far too apparent of his breathing. The lights are not bright enough anymore and the organ music drowns the sound of him hyperventilating as inconspicuous as possible. Of course, this event was too good to be true. No paparazzi allowed, No wedding crashers. Why wouldn’t he be here?

Time is chained to deadweights in the Procession.

Vincent feels a weight on his shoulder and the smell of a cologne he knew wasn’t Owen’s. His eyes flicker to Dmitri’s face. It’s saturated in concern and he mouths, Are you okay?

Vincent gives him the tiniest of nods and with it the biggest lie he could ever tell.

Dmitri raises an eyebrow. Vincent watches his eyes flick behind him and his face harden by a hair.

Just then, saving a guilty Vincent from Dmitri’s gaze, the doors to the possession room open. Mary Anne, the bride dressed in her gown, begins her walk down the aisle. Vincent spins his head around to watch like the rest of the guests.

Yet, a plague of stale air dries in his lungs when he sees Owen out of the corner of his eye. Not watching the bride. Watching him.

As she makes her way up to the altar, Vincent feels a foot poke at the back of his ankle. I’m not going to look down. The minister begins to speak. The words do not sound like words. Nothing is solid except for the tapping at his ankle.

Vincent’s eyes look down for what feels like years. A single shoe, a shoe he saw so many times thrown to the side when he was tied to the man’s headboard, now rubs at the side of his leg.

Please, Dmitri, don’t notice this. I do not want to explain this.

Vincent falls into the back of his mind, something he hasn’t done in years. The Procession passes like white noise. Nothing feels real to him.

The Procession ends.

Vincent stands.

So does Owen.

“Vince! How have you been? It’s been too long,” Owens asks with a smile that hides a sadistic, vial longing. Vincent freezes, instincts screaming for him to run but his body not knowing where to, “Fine.”

Just as Owen opens his disgusting mouth, Dmitri steps in between them and looks at Vincent, “We need to talk. Now.”

Vincent watches Dmitri’s entire body dwarf Owen in size. Dmitri, a whole ten inches taller and far broader than Owen could ever hope to be, stands like a wall between Vincent and his waking nightmare. Now, with a mountain standing in front of him, Vincent realizes where he is.

“Yeah, sure.”

It is almost to him that his only thought at that moment was Thank you for being mad at me.

Vincent lets Dmitri pull/drag him out of the Procession hall and into a quiet hallway and only then does he let him go.

“Vee, what happened.”

“Nothing happened, it's just nerves.”

Dmitri leans back on a foot and sighs, “There are very few certain things in this life and one of them is that you are a terrible liar.”

“I’m just a little frazzled Dmitri!”

“You were nearly crying!” Dmitri says as he drops his voice to a whisper, “The last time you did that was when you came over to my apartment and we tried to have---”

Vincent slams his hand over Dmitri’s mouth and growls silently, “Shutthefuckup.”

Dmitri pulls the hand off of his face, “If you’re so worked up then we can leave.”

“I can’t leave!” Vincent sputters, despite very much wanting to leave, “You can’t just leave someone’s wedding!”

“Yes you can, the door is less than 100 feet away, we can go if something is freaking you out so much!”

“I don’t---”

“Hey you two,” Estelle says as she whips around the corner, “Dinner’s out in the dining hall.”

Vincent instantly pulls up his acting face and smiles at her, “Just about to go!”

He grabs Dmitri and it’s VIncent’s turn to drag someone. He can’t leave this wedding. He would get ripped apart for it and he’s already done enough tearing at his reputation recently. Just stay near Dmitri and away from Owen.

He immediately regrets that decision

Dinner goes well or as well as it can go with Owen’s back to Vincent and every couple of minutes he looks over his shoulder and smiles at him.

He realizes he should’ve just left.

Toasts go around, the Best Man, the Maid of Honor, a few others. Just as Vincent thinks it’s about to all end, a quiet ringing from someone tapping a crystal glass with a metal knife. The sound vibrates into his head and makes his teeth implants hurt.

Implants that Owen caused him to get.

Owen stands with a smile that curdles Vincent’s blood, “I would like to make a toast to our lovely couple.”

I want to die. Right here. Right now.

“We have all seen our fair share of weddings, some more disastrous than others, but I believe I can confidently say this has been the best that I have attended in a long time.”

It’s because I’m here, isn’t it?

“And from just looking at you two I can tell that your marriage will be a long and prosperous one,” Owen moves his gaze to Vincent’s eyes and he beams a sickeningly hopeful simile, “And I hope that mine is just as prosperous as yours.”

No, never, fuck off.

Owen raises his glass and locks his eyes to Vincent’s, “To our prosperous friends.”

Vincent looks down at the table as he raises his glass, trying to ignore the beating eyes eating at his flesh. The wine, as he drinks, tastes like death.

Dmitri pokes him in the leg and leans down to a whisper, “Do you want to head out, you’re still freaking out.”

He is, he can feel his fingers shake around the glass. Vincent’s vision spins under the weight of Owen’s gaze. It’s almost like he can feel the twisted fantasies building behind Owen’s eyes. A dam of thoughts that Vincent knows all too well what happens when they are released.

He, ripping him out of his stewing, feels Dmitri’s hand on his thigh, “When everyone gets up to dance we can disappear, okay?”

Vincent gives him a tiny nod as he takes the first mouthful of cake. His eyes do not leave his plate. His own thoughts begin to seem distant to him as if he was observing them through thick glass.

Nothing feels real.

Is this real?

People begin to trickle out of the room, smiling as they take people and in hand. The newlyweds beaming as they float across the dining hall to the dance floor, taking everyone’s eyes. Vincent stands and leans into Dmitri, “I’m going to head out, you wait a few minutes and then leave so no one suspects anything.”

“Alright,” Dmitri says, flashing a warm smile, “I’ll be out in a minute.”

Vincent stands and skirts the crowd, heading out towards the empty hallways where he can leave. The weight across his shoulders lifts as the door approaches. He can breathe.

“Vince, Wait!”

The weight comes slamming back into his lungs, knocking the air out. His muscles turn to ice as Owen’s footsteps. Instinctually, and to his dismay, he turns around and faces his banshee.

“It’s been ages, I’m so happy i could catch you here.”

Why?

“Yeah… it has been a while.” Not long enough.

Owen strides up to Vincent with sheer confidence as a guiltless sibling. He chuckles, “Well he kinda stole you away when we were first talking so I’m glad I caught you alone!”

“Um, I-”

“Since you have been so distant since we last spoke. Time’s really flown hasn’t it with all your success,” Owen interrupts, leaning casually back on a leg.

“Yeah,” Vincent says, his vision blurring, “I need to go Owen.”

As Vincent spins around to leave, Owen steps forward and grabs his shoulder. His nails dig into the suit shoulder and pull back slightly, “Just five minutes.”

“I need to go,” Vincent breathlessly says, beginning to shake, “I don’t have five minutes.”

“Really?” Owen chuckles as he leans over Vincent’s shoulder. He can feel the pressure of Owen trying to pull him back ever so gently. The slight figure of Owen’s face curses Vincent’s periphery.

If Dmitri sees you like this you’ll have a lot of explaining to do.

“No,” Vincent states with as firm of a voice as he can muster, “I don’t.”

He pulls away from Owen’s grip and walks out of the venue, feeling Owen’s gaze fade as he walks through the silent parking lot. The air in his lungs finally has the room to move as the finite particles escape into the cool night air. The limousine is silent as he slides onto the velvet seats. Vincent taps the window to the driver’s section and quietly says, “Drive up to the main doors when Dmitri steps out.”

A nod later and Vincent rolls up the divider between the driver and the guest seats. He throws off his suit jacket onto the chair next to him. He feels the vehicle lurch forward and watches as the light spills inside as Dmitri slides in.

“Are you alright?!” Dmitri says with hushed alarm.

Only then does Vincent realize he’s crying. He reaches up and wipes the droplet of salt and fear from his face and just fades. The world is there yet it’s not, Vincent can’t tell what’s changing around him and time just slips through his fingers.

Everything focuses again when he’s home.

Dmitri had wrapped a quilted blanket over his shoulders and they are now sitting on his couch. Vincent feels Dmitri’s body heat and arms wrapped around his torso. He sits forward a little and stares at the clock, 9:03.

“I’m sorry,” Vincent murmurs, his voice hoarse.

“Don’t apologise Vee,” Dmitri whispers back, “But what happened?”

Vincent stands up, wobbling on his legs for a moment. Seeing his jacket and Dmitri’s tossed onto a chair, he sighs, “It’s- complicated.”

Dmitri sits forward, eyes both tired and concerned. “Vee, you… you clocked out of a solid hour and a half. You don’t do that unless.”

“Dmitri.”

Dmitri falls silent, his loosened tie falling off his broad shoulders. He slowly stands, eyes drooping under the weight of sleepiness, “I need to head back home before it gets too late.”

An air of guilt falls between them and Dmitri walks for the door. A longing bleeds in Vincent's chest, to spit it out and get it over with. Those are not the words that leave his mouth.

“Wait- I- Can you just stay tonight. It's- I’m- just- please.”

Dmitri pauses and nods. The silence loses weight as Dmitri steps back from the front door. As Dmitri starts to pass him for the stairs, Vincent pulls him into a hug. Burying his face in Dmitri’s chest, he tries to use his warmth for even a drop of comfort. Dmitri wraps his arms back around Vincent and the two stand there in the dark living room.

Vincent only hopes that the nightmares that will come are short-winded.

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Between Bars (Spencer Reid x OC)

Summary: Spencer is wrongfully arrested for murder and placed in Millburn Correctional Facility awaiting trial. While he attempts to survive until his friends can prove his innocence, his cellmate Oscar has an unexpected effect on Spencer during their time inside together.

AN: Thank you to @april-14-blog, @zhuzhubii​, and @imagining-in-the-margins for your unwavering attention and support while writing this. 

I’m writing another post-prison Spencer fic but idk when it’s coming out. I’m still caring for my dad and prepping for my nan’s funeral.

To the anon who asked for an Emily Prentiss x Trans!Male reader smut, it’s in the works I promise!!

Word count: 11k words

Content warning: Usual criminal minds violence, character death, spoilers for season 12, threats of violence, stabbing, PTSD, mentions of battery, mentions of panic attacks. Let me know if I’ve missed anything.

Masterlist // AO3 Link

“My last roommate got shanked.”

Spencer struggled for a second to keep his composure. The cell door slid shut with a loud buzzer and a clank of hollow metal.

His cellmate, in that identical grey jumpsuit, was tucked up on the bottom bunk with a book in one hand and a green crayon in the other. He was underlining something. Once he was done, his eye lifted off the page. They just as devoid of emotion as his opener was. That scared Spencer more, that this man had clearly spent a long time in here being dehumanised to the point where he held about the emotional range of a mannequin.

But at least he wasn’t violent. Yet.

Spencer approached the foot of his bed. His hands, one of them still sore from the cut on the palm, placed his belongings there. A tremble ran through them when his cellmate moved out of his line of sight; the sudden thought of being stabbed through the underside of his bunk kept him standing for now.

“I’m not gonna shank you.”

Spencer’s shoulders squared, “Ok.”

“Name’s Oscar.”

“Spencer Reid.”

“Welcome to hell, Spencer Reid.”

 ---> ---> ---> ---> ---> 

 His chore was laundry. It was somewhere without sharp objects, which meant inmates brought their own. Spencer was doing his best to walk the balance between standing his ground and not making himself a target. But apparently there was no such line to follow and no help from his cellmate, sifting through his own cart of laundry on the other side of the room.

That was until the inmates began taunting Spencer over his belongings.

“Excuse me.”

The crowd immediately parted to make way for Oscar, whose unflinching gaze pushed them further back.

“Thank you,” he said in the same empty tone. His very deliberate stare landed on Spencer as he passed and collected a pile of towels from the table at the room’s centre. The group around them dispersed and remained so even as Oscar returned to his station.

Oscar’s hands weren’t shaking before then. Now, certainly, as he stuffed bedsheets into the giant machine, a tremble ran through his arms and stuck in his wrists.

Spencer didn’t comment, not even that evening as he climbed onto his bunk, his back pressed hard against the wall. His knees pulled close acted as a desk for his journal. His pen scribbled away long after lights out, putting down his thoughts, his innocence, trapping his worries onto the paper. It was too long until his next evaluation. His notebook was his only confidant now.

A creak beneath him stilled his hand, and he felt himself freeze as the shadow of Oscar rose up from his bunk. One of his hands was behind his back. Spencer’s feet dug into the mattress and forced him hard against the concrete. His eyes flinched shut as Oscar brought his hand out. But they opened as soon as they were closed and they were met with surprise.

In Oscar’s palm sat a red crayon.

“You’ll wanna swap to this,” He said with such a softness that Spencer spent the next ten seconds processing it. His incessant blinking did nothing to clear up what was happening.

Eventually he said an equally quiet voice, “Why?”

Oscar’s shoulders shrugged an inch, the tension he held in them inflexible, “Worst you can get from this is a bruise.”

Slowly, Spencer accepted the crayon with his left hand and rolled the pencil around in the right. “What should I do with this?”

“Hide it.” And Oscar disappeared from view.

Spencer ran his finger over the tip of the crayon before he dragged it across the paper. It would suffice for now. Maybe he could ask one of his friends to send some his way in their next letter. If they weren’t too busy trying to solve his case.

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 JJ’s presence was the most welcomed part of Spencer’s life here. But he almost hated it.

Opposite him, always several inches between them as well as a divider, JJ holding up one of Henry’s drawings but unable to hand it over to him, it drove him insane. The constant reminders on the walls – and often barked by guards – not to touch coated their conversation. JJ didn’t ask about the bruises from his most recent beating. She answered Spencer’s queries, updating him on his case.

Spencer tried very hard not to sound so eager about getting out. His hopes were already dashed to pieces; the fragments were just holding on. He needed that hope to survive but if it grew too strong, it would destroy him.

For half a second, his attention was drawn out of the goodbye to see Oscar nearby. He was standing before another visitor’s table and a young woman who had the same nose as him on the other side.

He missed JJ’s hugs. He longed for one long after she had disappeared from view, shuffling along with the rest of them towards the refectory.

A commotion erupted up ahead. Spencer watched with masked reverence and the rest of the line as Oscar remained unflinching in the volume of the guard’s shouting. Even when he got right up in Oscar’s face, Oscar was stoic as spittle sprayed across his face. Moment after the guard walked away, Oscar wiped his face clean, a terrifyingly neutral expression held together.

Once lunch was done, Spencer re-joined with his new friend Luis in the laundry room, who was still not over Spencer’s injuries. There was something else that Spencer wanted to talk about.

“Do you know much about…” Spencer dropped his voice to barely a whisper, “Oscar?”

Luis looked at Oscar with the subtlety of an elephant seal then back to Spencer to deliver his answer, “He’s gone after people in the prison, but nothing ever gets tied to him.”

And Luis proved his point when Oscar pressed his hands against the stab wound in Luis’ neck, a futile attempt to save his life after Frazier and Duerson’s failed recruiting of Spencer. Oscar fled the scene without consequence, leaving Spencer in the pool of blood, and he never once tripped on his alibi or took off his armour. Not even when Spencer spoke at him about it before lights out.

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 But Spencer found a chink in the armour.

Oscar’s sleeping problems were apparent throughout the night. If his offering of a crayon earlier hadn’t been enough evidence, the yawning and tossing about the bottom bunk. Spencer knew why Oscar was awake too. He wasn’t the type to stay awake to ensure his continued survival. Insomnia was a symptom that Spencer was starting to show too. He had been struggling to rest while he gathered the aforementioned evidence. For some reason, it brought him a slither of comfort, because it made Oscar more human.

Another was the letters he had in his pillow case – the most obvious place to hide something, therefore the least obvious? Reverse psychology aside, some nights featured the rustling of paper

Work in the laundry room continued as if there wasn’t a man murdered in it just days before. Oscar was reinforcing the contrast between yesterday and now with a faint hum. He was clearly a little more comfortable since it was just him and Spencer in the room.

Spencer’s mind pulled up Howl’s Moving Castle which he watched with Penelope. Oh, Penelope. With her bright colours and optimism. It was not a film he pictured Oscar to be a fan of. But he hardly knew him, and he wanted to.

“What song is that?”

Oscar shrugged. A huff forced itself out of his nose. “Don’t remember.”

“It sounds nice.”

He huffed again, clearly closing the conversation. Spencer counted in items he tossed into the machine, flinching still at the marks on the bedsheets. His eye avoided them but landed on the dark patch of concrete where Luis had bled out.

“Oscar, why did you defend me last week?” Spencer asked.

“I don’t know.” The irritable edge in his voice prevailed the more he spoke, “But you owe me so consider this: don’t be a mule for them.”

It was an almost anger that Spencer felt at this request. Surely Oscar would understand, of all people, after being in here that:

“They’ll kill me if I don’t.”

Oscar sighed and turned his back to Spencer, no longer humming. Spencer felt a twang in his gut pluck away at his rage. But he also felt satisfaction in the fact that he had gotten Oscar to crack again. Not in a malevolent way, he felt like he was getting Oscar to open up more and more.

“I’m doing what I need to survive,” Spencer added. For his sake, maybe, but he knew it was a little more reassurance for Oscar.

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 “I am innocent.”

“You’re gonna get killed if you keep saying that so loud.”

Spencer stopped speaking, but he kept moving about the floor space of the cell. The worst part was the walk up to the bars. But, with his notebook confiscated, he had no other outlet and he made sure that Oscar knew this as well.

“It keeps me grounded, reminds me of who I am.”

Oscar didn’t say anything about Spencer’s incessant pacing, simply turning a page in his new book, “That must be nice.”

With a deep breath of stale prison air, Spencer’s speed grew erratic until he very nearly kicked at the bars in frustration. He stopped himself just as the instruction reached the surgery scars on his knee. It stung as he jumped up into his bunk and squeezed his knees to his chest, his arms shaking with the pressure he put on them.

“How many years do you have to go?” He said quietly.

“Half a year until an appeal, six years if I serve the rest of my sentence. You?”

“My trial has been postponed. I was offered a plea deal. But-” Spencer stopped to swallow, a pitiful attempt against the absolute Sahara that was his mouth “- But I didn’t do it.”

His hand pushed the heel of his palm into his eye. The other screwed itself shut as his mind zeroed in on his actions. When Spencer’s hand lifted away, Oscar was standing up in front of him. His white shirt was on show, the top half of his jumpsuit rolled down with the arms tied around his waist. He was stretching his arms up, and his head was tilted a few inches to the left as he watched Spencer with a blank face.

No, not blank.

Open.

Then his stoicism clouded over and Oscar dropped his arms. “Nice rehearsal for the jury.”

Spencer’s irritation became inflamed, “That kind of attitude might get you a badge of honour here-”

“This kind of attitude,” Oscar interrupted, and immediately Spencer regretted his words, “Has helped me survive here. I suggest you stop running your mouth if you wanna do the same.”

The burst of anger fizzled out fast like a firework, and Spencer watched Oscar disappear out of sight with a dull thud on his mattress. But before he could, Spencer had noticed that Oscar’s hands were shaking again, just like he hadn’t seen since the fight in the laundry room – the first one.

Spencer’s hands gripping his shins, he worried that he had lost another… friend? Ally? He didn’t really know what to use as a description for their relationship but Spencer knew what he wanted. Least of all, he wanted Oscar to be upset with him.

“Oscar?”

Nothing. Spencer slipped off the bed and pressed his back against the wall, sinking down until he was on the ground. His eyes were on Oscar, who was staring without seeing Spencer opposite him. Nevertheless, Spencer stayed in his sight and asked a tentative question.

“What’s the first thing you want to do when you get out?”

Oscar blinked and his gaze shifted a millimetre to Spencer and his peace offering. Then Spencer saw it. A quiver of Oscar’s bottom lip, then it shifted and Spencer noticed that Oscar was biting the inside to stop his reaction taking over any more of himself.

When his mouth opened, it released a sigh before he spoke. “Hug my mom.”

Spencer nodded, the stuffiness of his throat returning as he fought to keep back tears, “Me too.”

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 It was an attempt to get Frazier and Duerson off Spencer’s back. Maybe to stop him from taking the drugs himself. The temptation was certainly lingering stronger, with the promise of a temporary respite.

But now the prison was locked down. Shaw, along with four other inmates, were isolated in the infirmary. These were far from innocent men but God that didn’t mean what he had done was right.

He’d done it to survive, but it was still all his fault.

“What’s up with you?”

The gate to their cell sliding shut behind Oscar. He stared at Spencer sat in the bottom bunk, his head in his hands. Footsteps echoed down the corridor before another buzzer and another gate opened then shut again. They were far from alone, the concrete providing an illusion that there wasn’t an endless tunnel with two men per cage.

“Spencer.”

He stood up, dropping the grip from his hair. His ears tuned into the noise from other prisoners. What he wouldn’t give for some silence right now.

“The poisonings were my fault.”

All air sucked from Spencer’s lungs as Oscar was suddenly upon him. He was smacked against the wall, Oscar’s hand over his mouth, his forearm pinning him into place. Spencer let out a cross between a gulp and a sob, caught into his throat as Oscar harshly shushed him. Spencer’s eyes looked around Oscar terrified, he struggled against him.

Oscar’s voice rasped with a spitting disgust, “You’re really fucking stupid!”

And he slammed his weight against Spencer again, his breathing heavy, his pupils dilated, “Don’t you fucking dare repeat that to anyone.”

Spencer’s head knocked against the resolute wall when Oscar shoved him once more, stepping back and creating distance between them. With the ache at the back of his skull, Spencer stared dazedly at his cellmate.

Oscar’s voice matched his haggard appearance when he said, “You’re a dead man, Spencer.”

The intimacy of his name striking right at his heart, Spencer worried that he would join Oscar in tears. But there was no time; a guard rattled his baton against the bars.

“What’s going on in there?” He bellowed into the cell.

Oscar clenched his jaw, “Nothing.”

Then he reclaimed his bunk and faced the wall.

“Into bed, inmate!”

Sparing a glance to the vulnerable position Oscar was laying in, unable to receive the look of gratitude, Spencer got into his bunk. The silence he wished for enveloped him and he longed for it to vanish.

He pressed his palm against his lips. It wasn’t the same as when Oscar did it.

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 His second meeting with Dr. Tara Lewis revealed that Spencer had manufactured his own memory and that he had been coerced. But the BAU needed proof of his innocence, and Spencer resumed his waiting game in the yard.

Oscar was taking a new route around the edge of the wire fencing as opposed to spending his free time in the gym. His shoes scuffed in the dirt, no doubt rubbing a blister into his heel (based on his gait), and his step weaved around the groups to avoid interacting with anyone. Wordlessly, Spencer joined him. Oscar looked at him but didn’t speak.

Spencer’s session with Tara had brought forward a question he had considered asking before. Tara had spoken about his mother, how life was before prison. Spencer missed being known, knowing someone. The rawness of that need hung off his frame with his jumpsuit. Oscar was probably still pissed off with him. But God, Spencer needed to cease this withdrawal from human contact more than anything.

“What did you do, Oscar?” He asked under his breath, “To get into prison?”

“I knew a guy; he was the worst kind of person to get caught up with. He did some things to me. So I beat him up, and I cut his pecker off.”

It all sounded so very rehearsed, and Spencer wondered if Oscar had been planning what to say since they first met. The two men continued to walk in step until eventually Oscar broke the silence.

“Yours isn’t on my to-do list.” The left corner of his mouth twitched as he spoke

Spencer lifted his stare from Oscar’s mouth, hoping the heat around them would mask his blush, “Did he die?”

“No,” Oscar ironed his lips back into a straight line, “Unfortunately.”

“You don’t regret it.”

“No.”

“Thank you for not telling the guard what I did.”

“What did I say about repeating it?”

Spencer pressed his chin into his chest, forcing his mouth shut. It naturally deflected the glares that were aimed in his direction from other prisoners as he and Oscar sat down at an empty table.

“It seems I only give you grief.”

But Spencer’s pity was cut short by that touch of a smile on Oscar’s face returning, “Your company somewhat makes up for it.”

The distractions ended. Spencer was once again aware that there was very little he could do in this place. He restrained his yearning to hold Oscar’s hand across the table, to feel his tender palm again, until he was back in his bunk with an entire night to think about what it might be like in a situation where Oscar wasn’t threatening him into silence.

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 It was going to be another sleepless night.

Spencer reached his arm out of his foetal position and over the edge of his bunk. Oscar was likely still awake; Spencer was hoping that Oscar would ask him about what was up, like he usually did. Like he already had after Spencer’s mother had visited with her new care assistant.

As he waited, Spencer sniffed back his tears. He didn’t want anyone to see him cry, even if tears were supposed to be good for the skin – God knows his skin needed it after all that Dial soap. The red eyes were already hard enough to hide without the addition of damp cheeks. Grief weighed down his eyelids, but fear kept opening them – just in case.

Then five calloused fingertips touched the back of his hand. Spencer gripped the air, his wrist bringing his hand an inch in. But as the fingertips spread across his skin, he allowed them to continue. Oscar’s mattress groaned below him and his fingers linked with Spencer’s. The thumb wrapped around to press into Spencer’s palm.

Spencer almost whined when Oscar snatched his hand away, but a split second later his stomach dropped at the sound of a clatter down the hall.

Minutes passed like hours before the bottom bunk let out a familiar creak of Oscar rising from it. He rested his forearms against Spencer’s mattress, right beside Spencer’s outstretched arm. Goosebumps rose and the hairs stood on end, coaxing Oscar closer.

With a quick glance at the bars, Oscar whispered, “Your friends will get you out. They’ll help your mom.”

Spencer sniffed, “What happened to being a dead man?”

“I don’t think you – or your friends - are going to let that happen.”

“What about you?”

“I guess I could fall under ‘ally’ for once.”

“What if I wanted you to be something else?” Spencer’s arm shifted and his hand brushed their knuckles against Oscar’s stubbly cheek.

Oscar hinted at tilting his head against him, and Spencer couldn’t help but press a little firmer as Oscar said, “You should sleep.”

“I can’t.”

Oscar’s finger stretching out to brush the crook of Spencer’s elbow, “Me neither.”

Nevertheless, Oscar let Spencer go and got back down into his bunk just moments later.

Both men pretended to sleep until the fantasy became real. The whole time, Spencer was thinking about how hearing faith in his team from someone who had never met them – or even displayed an ounce of hope within his entire relationship with him – meant so much.

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 Spencer had a new wall to force his back against. His left leg was not in a state to keep him taut against it, the throbbing ache a poor disturbance from his thoughts. Time, time, all he had was time to think and do nothing else.

About how his occupation in the government was leaked to what felt like the entire prison population.

How the note with the promise of invading solitary confinement lay screwed up by the door.

How Shaw had threatened him before bawling like a baby when the guards tackled him for stabbing Spencer.

How Oscar, with his jaw slack and eyes glassy, was outlined in Spencer’s blurring vision.

Oh, Oscar. Shoved back by inmates in the scuffle before he disappeared from view. He was only there because Shaw had made the first move. Spencer had seen Oscar reach into his pocket as he crept behind Shaw. No regard for his own safety. That was when Spencer grabbed Shaw’s hand and manipulated it into plunging his shiv into his leg and arm.

The night before, Oscar had been quiet, and Spencer figured that he had learnt that Spencer was an FBI agent. No chat before bed, Oscar just curled up under his blanket and read until lights out.

Spencer was patient. He waited long into the night before bringing out his toothbrush. There was no time for resting now; he scrapped the end of the brush against the edge of the bunk frame. Flakes of plastic snowed down onto the concrete floor, but he didn’t get out to sweep them beneath the beds just yet. That was a job for the morning – if it came.

Suddenly Oscar popped into his field of view.

“It’s better if you do it like this,” He said, taking Spencer’s hand in his and demonstrating the direction with which to carve his shiv, “And make sure you – never mind.”

“What?”

“Forget it. You’re a fed. They probably trained you with this shit.”

He took himself away and Spencer swallowed hard, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“I’m not. Means you’re learning to protect yourself. I’m more grateful for that.”

Spencer’s hand still tingled from the way Oscar held it. The simplest of touches grounded him, and it was almost as if Oscar knew that. When they were called to lunch by the alarm, filing out of the laundry room, Oscar had gone out of his way to walk by Spencer and brush their hands together. Not a single break in his stride, the touch was brief but it breathed a sigh of courage into Spencer’s lungs and he went into the refectory calmer.

He bit the inside of his cheek, willing away the stinging of tears with his head leaning back against the wall.

His palms flattened against his legs as he heard the key turn in the door. His eyes watched it creak open, revealing a guard

“Get up.”

Wincing, Spencer moved off the pathetic excuse for a bed, “Where am I going?”

No answer.

Spencer shuffled through the hallway with dread weighing each step down. The last fragment of hope was waning, but he clung to it as he was shoved into an empty room. Even as the guard closed the door behind him and his ever-vigilant eye was stuck on the glass of the window, Spencer held that hope close as he waited for someone to come in.  While not necessarily a believer, he called to anyone - who might hear a sinner’s prayer - that he could touch Oscar once more before he was killed.

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 It had been a long time since Spencer had sat on this side of the table. On the job, visiting a suspect or informant in a case, but now his entire perspective had shifted.

He wondered if any of the guards recognised him now that he had a suit, a visitor’s badge, and a few extra pounds around his middle.

An instinct, he flinched at the buzzer. The memory had tormented him for weeks and hearing it fresh and raw against his eardrums was worse. Steps sloped into the room in a dull out-of-sync march. The prisoners found their allotted tables one by one, some with enthusiasm and others without.

Oscar dragged the chair across the floor before taking his place opposite Spencer.

“Hello.”

Spencer was completely torn between smiling at his presence – his voice – and keeping a composure so as not to draw attention from other prisoners. “Hello.”

Oscar wrapped his arms in each other, elbows pointed on the table, “Did you get to hug your mom?”

It was hard to forget the grip on Diana’s frail body, the relief seeping through Spencer’s body at her safe recovery.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Good. I’m glad she’s ok.”

“She’s in a facility now, being taken care of full time. Did you get my letters?”

“I did, thank you. And did you get mine?”

“Yes. How is your new cellmate?”

“Some dipshit in for possession. Nothing to worry about.”

Oscar’s fingers tapped on the table, and Spencer could see them trembling still. He nodded; his mouth pressed into a line. He couldn’t think of what else to say despite his many rehearsals beforehand. It felt wrong to talk about being out of prison, like dangling a bit of bacon in front of a dog before popping it into one’s mouth.

So he went straight for the jugular, “I’m getting you out, Oscar.”

Oscar frowned, looking almost offended. “Don’t say that.”

But Spencer continued, “I’ve spoken with your lawyer, Zoe; she’s got all this stuff ready for your appeal.”

“Spencer.”

“Your family completely support what we’re doing. I’ve spoken to them over the phone.”

“They wanna meet with me and your lawyer, properly coordinate. We can do this!”

“Spencer, stop!”

Said person stopped relaying his grand plans for the future. Oscar had barely raised his voice but he caught the attention of the nearby guards, already reaching for their belts. Oscar’s nostrils flared as he exhaled, his eyes not even crossing the threshold that separated him from Spencer.

His voice caught in his throat, “Stop it now. Don’t give me hope.”

Spencer blinked. A second time, a third, then he frowned right back at Oscar bewildered.

“Why won’t you let me fight for you?”

He didn’t get an answer immediately, so he kept talking.

“You fought for me, Oscar. You kept me alive in here. Let me do the same, get you out. You can’t stay here!”

It started subtle. But Spencer saw Oscar shaking his head at his words. He refused Spencer any more eye contact, not even when Spencer begged Oscar to look at him so that they could talk more about the upcoming appeal.

The buzzer sounded again and Spencer began to panic as Oscar rose from his seat. No way was their time up already. An urge to reach across, grab Oscar’s hand, make him stay, shot through him. It only stopped because he didn’t want some desperate grab to be the last touch between them. He tried to call after him, but his voice stuck in his throat at the sight of a baton being used to force Oscar into the queue.

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 Spencer had walked the paths of the bullpen thrice now: once to get coffee, second to “get the right form”, and the last time he didn’t say why to his curious colleagues. Clearly none of those were the true reason but they left him alone. That was their problem. They never spoke to each other about what was wrong until it was too late.

The second his phone rang, he lunged for it. His slim fingers scrabbled to slide across the answer button and bring it up to his ear.

“Hello!” Instantaneously, his shoulders slumped and he pinched the bridge of his nose, “Sorry for shouting. Look, I’m waiting on an important call, can I ring you back?”

Before the caller had time to respond, Spencer slammed the phone face down and began his route again, leaving it on the desk so that he wasn’t constantly checking the screen.

“Have you ever seen him so attached to a piece of technology?” Luke grinned at JJ.

“Never.”

“This con must be something.”

The phone went off again when Spencer was getting another mug of coffee. Its ringtone was loud but not loud enough to reach the break room.

Simmons raised his voice ever so slightly, “Spencer! Phone!”

A ceramic clashed with a sideboard, and Spencer appeared, his hip clipping Luke’s desk on the way over. In his frenzy, he found the wherewithal to check the caller ID before he answered, “Tony?”

Spencer had already begun powerwalking out of the bullpen, but he stopped when he heard a cry from Eliza in the background.

His friends and co-workers watched his expression falter from focus to frustration.

“I’m sorry.” His voice failed him, clearing it, “I’m sorry, Tony, for you and your family. Can I call you back?”

This time, he waited for confirmation and he stayed on the phone for half a minute longer to reassure the Dunnagan family on the other end that he would not give up. Once the call dropped, the phone did too – against the desk. Spencer folded his arms in on himself. His fingers were bent into claws, digging into the creases of his elbows. Upon realising what they were doing, he covered his face as if to weep, but there were no tears.

“Spencer.” JJ touched his shoulder

“The appeal didn’t even have the chance to be unsuccessful,” He dragged his hands across his face into prayer, “Oscar cancelled the hearing this morning without telling us.”

He swallowed back the lump in his throat, “I don’t think I can be alone right now. Can I stay at yours and Will’s tonight?”

“Of course,” JJ’s hand smoothed out a wrinkle on his suit jacket.

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 Upon entering the attorney’s office, Spencer was embraced by Dakota. Eliza kissed both his cheeks, Tony shook his hand, and Zoe gestured for him to sit in the final empty chair.

Together, they discussed the plan for the appeal. It was to be fool proof. There was the added benefit of a recent sessions with a therapist; Spencer was still willing to go and talk about how Oscar had saved his life in prison. But Spencer was also fighting this disgusting urge to say that “none of that matters because an appeal panel won’t see him at all if Oscar keeps withdrawing”. He kept pushing it down to simmer in his stomach, away from his vocal chords.

He was almost glad when his phone began ringing, “Excuse me, it’s my boss.” Stepping out of the office, Spencer narrowly avoided another lawyer walking along the stripes of the carpet. “Hey Emily.”

“Hey. I know it’s one of your days off. I just wanted to see how you’re doing?”

“We’re just going over Oscar’s appeal.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Wow, he really walked into that one.

“I just keep thinking about how he sabotaged himself. I mean, doesn’t he want to get out? Why doesn’t he want to get out and be with me?!” Spencer swallowed back the lump in his throat, “And I know none of the team approve of him.”

“Spencer,” Emily had her parent voice on. An expert voice for someone who didn’t even have kids yet.

But Spencer just carried on in spite of it, “He’s a convicted batterer, not exactly the best option for a boyfriend and especially for an FBI agent, but do any of you know why he did it?”

His agitation was muzzled when Zoe poked her head around the door and Spencer softened his tone to apologise, to assure he would be back inside shortly. He waited until the door closed before he spoke again.

“Emily, Oscar is the only person who knows what I’m going through right now. He’s a good man, I truly believe that, or else he wouldn’t have helped me. And I need him to get out. I can’t stand knowing he’s in there for why he did what he did. Knowing he’s not getting the help he needs.”

It was then that Spencer realised, even as they were interrupted, that Emily had been waiting patiently for him to finish. She was now letting his words sit between the phone lines, likely mulling over what to say next. Spencer really fucking hated waiting.

Thankfully his patience did not need to wear itself thin, this one time:

“I do know why he did it. I had Garcia pull up his file when you went to visit him for the first time. Spencer, I’m glad this man has you on his side. Let me know how the meeting goes.”

“Thanks, Emily.”

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 As Oscar placed himself down opposite Spencer, he flinched in the plastic chair. Spencer fought his own wince at the sight of so much swelling, so many bruises, so many cuts, littering his face.

But he gave the tiniest of smiles in spite of the state of his face, “How did you know, Spencer?”

“Your mom told me. She’s a lovely woman.” Spencer flexed his fingers before linking them again, “I wish I had a proper gift to give you, but I was scared the guards would just confiscate it.”

“The card was more than enough.”

A bright blue card with balloons on it was tucked into Oscar’s pillowcase. Inside were as many notes on what he needed to say for the appeal as Spencer could fit around the “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” already printed into the card.

“I forwarded them and the rest onto your lawyer. She should go through it with you.”

Oscar’s smile tainted by hesitation as it crawled off his face, “I don’t know.”

Spencer could see him withdrawing, hiding in his jumpsuit. But even then, Oscar’s expression wore his melancholy like a veil. It blocked out any semblance of neutrality from when he had first met Spencer. The state his protection was in, he wouldn’t last long at all.

“Before prison, I was really sensitive to touch, germs. But now-” Spencer stopped, his voice so quiet he nearly couldn’t hear himself as he finished, “I can’t wait to touch you again.”

Oscar shivered. His eyes screwed shut as if to protect him from what was being said. But Spencer persisted.

“What would you like to do for your birthday? If you could do anything.”

“Picnic in the park,” said Oscar after some thought, “Uh, a real big Cuban sandwich, with roast pork, Swiss cheese, lettuce, pickles, and ham. And chocolate covered strawberries.”

“What, in the sandwich as well?”

“Yes.” Oscar rolled his eyes, misty and threatening to spill, and Spencer felt a rush of panic. More emotion was only good for him. Oscar, left behind in his cell, this could be disastrous. But he couldn’t get enough of it, and he selfishly persevered.

“When you get out, would you let me hold you?” The buzzer went off, but Spencer spoke over it as he stood, “Please, Oscar, consider this appeal.”

“Ok, Spencer.”

From his place at the table, Spencer watched Oscar try to cover his emotions, but there was still a glimmer of a tear retreating as he joined the queue of prisoners heading back to their cells.

Before he stepped out the prison, Spencer slipped his sunglasses back over his eyes to hide how red they were from the guards.

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 Stood in the shallow shade of Eliza’s range rover, Spencer switched the bouquet of sage flowers from one hand to the other. Dakota had suggested them; she said her brother liked the colour most. Spencer wiped his free hand down his trousers before checking the time. He’d done that four times already. He hoped no one was giving him odd looks from the other side of the fence.

Utter relief was not usually how he would describe hearing that buzzer. But for the first and last time, he did feel a sense of respite knowing he would likely never be coming back here for such a taxing visit.

Then he remembered what that sound actually meant. His back straightened right up; his hand brushed through his hair and checked his breath once more.

Tony led the way out of the prison. He was clearly trying to remain casual but the glee seeping out of his body was just palpable. He had an arm around Dakota, kissing his daughter’s head so vigorously that her half-up hair was messed up. Clearly Dakota didn’t care though. Her hand was behind her and she turned to see the person holding it.

It was Oscar, arm looped with Eliza who clung to him like a crutch. Their eyes matched each other, shining brown like horse chestnuts.

Spencer found that he could no longer look away from Oscar. A breeze rustled through his hair. His face was alive with tear tracks and a grin that ached on his rosy cheeks. An old suit, one clearly meant for court and court alone, slouched on his shoulders. But for that short moment where he breathed fresh air and leaned his head on his mother’s, there was no weight to him.

Then Oscar found Spencer, fidgeting with his tie and his grip slacking on the bouquet, and all the emotion he had repressed for five years in prison custody were exploding into a supernova.

Oscar forgot Eliza’s arm, dashing around his family to run for Spencer. Spencer found himself matching the pace and the destination. His feet carried him quick until he and Oscar collided. A fierce hug crushed them. Oscar’s hand was constantly adjusting its grip on the back of Spencer’s head, and Spencer’s free one fisted at Oscar’s suit jacket, trying to bury themselves in his ribcage. Neither missed Oscar’s shaking, his sobbing. Spencer curled into Oscar, wrestling with his instinct to pull away. Lindsey and Cat, they ruined so much for him already; they couldn’t take Oscar too.

When they heard the footsteps of the Dunnagan family stop nearby, the men drew apart – only about a foot or so. Oscar’s cheeks were wet behind his wide smile and Spencer saw that one of his front two teeth was a little crooked.

Spencer then presented his gift in the small space between them, “For you.”

Oscar gently clasped the bouquet on the white ribbon that wrapped around the stalks, “No one’s got me flowers before.”

Spencer then vowed to buy flowers as often as he could for Oscar, and especially sage. He looked so good with purple.

The ride to Danny’s Food Truck had Oscar sat in the little middle seat, his sister on one side, Spencer on the other, and he held both their hands. His bouquet was cradled in his lap. The wet ends of the stalks dripped twice onto his suit trousers, just before his bouncing knee.

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 Once again, Spencer had lost himself in his work. When he was interrupted just an hour before, Oscar was there. He had waved a hand into Spencer’s peripherals but Spencer still jumped at it. He hated that his skittish behaviour was still prevalent, returning just as Oscar had started appearing in his personal life. In his apartment.

“Sorry, Spencer,” Oscar had said in a gravelly voice, “I just wanted to ask if you were ok with Randy’s for dinner tonight.”

It was two hours before they were due to have dinner.

“Of course, it’s your turn.”

“How’s the work going?”

“It’s good,” and Spencer showed him the notes he’d written so far.

Oscar had taken them into his hands and read over them. Meanwhile Spencer watched his micro expressions. The huff of air through his nose, the corners of his mouth wriggling about as if to smile before flattening themselves out, all seemed positive as Oscar offered the papers back.

“Nice joke!”

“Right, joke…” Spencer accepted his notes back, “Where?”

“There,” Oscar leant over Spencer’s shoulder and tapped the second line of the first paragraph. Spencer noted that he smelt nice. So much better now the Dial soap was out of their care routine.  

And it was now that Spencer found himself missing that smell. It was a nice distraction. Burying himself in his work was not a good distraction anymore.

He stood away from his desk and took his mug out to the kitchen sink. Despite trying not to look at the pieces of a vase half-wrapped in newspaper, Oscar’s wailing at the very start of their day together punctured its way into Spencer’s head. One particular thought posited that Spencer should keep one of those jagged pieces – just in case. Just in case of what?

Shaking his head, Spencer went and found the source of his chills: his living room windows were wide open, the curtains lifting gracefully in the breeze. Rain pattered against the world outside, some of its drops reaching the carpet. The smell of the rain was light in the room. It was almost drowned out by the sound.

He found Oscar passed out on the couch, his bare feet poking out from under the throw. His head was resting between his folded arms, one hand under the pillow. His headphones askew and playing “The Flower Garden (Extended Version)” by Joe Hisaishi.

Kneeling next to Oscar, Spencer touched his arm, “Do you want me to order for you?”

Oscar nodded, stretched out, then promptly fell back asleep. He would have trouble later tonight. But Spencer was glad that he finally found some respite. His seemingly endless apologies for breaking the bowl were over.

That was where the good news ended though. Spencer looked closer at Oscar’s hand, now unmasked. A medium piece from the broken vase rested in his loose grip. After some moments deliberating, Spencer eased it out and placed it with the rest of the vase. Then he went to his phone and dialled.

“Hey JJ. I hope it’s not too late, but,” Spencer tapped his nails against the plastic handset, “Would you mind coming over? Oscar is here, but I don’t know if he’s ready to help me through this.”

He smiled at the flowers he’d bought that day standing awkwardly in a jug before hanging up. He and Oscar really should move in together. Or at least he should invest in a sofa bed.

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the front door, and Oscar was up on his feet. The sofa’s throw clung to him.  

“I invited someone over,” Spencer said quickly, “Sorry I should have told you, but I didn’t want to wake you again. Do you want to wait in my room?”

Oscar stayed in place and shook his head, so Spencer went ahead to open his front door.

Two days apart was far too long. JJ embraced Spencer tight, rubbing his back as she rested her chin on his shoulder. She gave the best hugs. Maybe rivalled by Oscar, but Spencer would never tell her that.

“Can I get you anything to drink?”

“A coffee would be great,” JJ shrugged off her jacket

He pivoted in a half circle, “Oscar?”

“No, I’m good, thank you.”

Spencer wasn’t really sure what happened in his absence – besides his stomach turning itself over and over. When he returned with two mugs, the only information he could garner was that Oscar had dropped the throw back onto the sofa that stood between them and JJ had inched a little closer

“Here!”

Oscar twitched at Spencer’s loud entrance, visibly relaxing by the time JJ had her mug of coffee in her hands. He adjusted the throw until it was back to its original position then crept towards the door.

Spencer frowned, ruining the quiet exit as he said, “Where are you going?”

Oscar thumbed in his direction of travel. “Bathroom.”

“Oh,” Spencer felt his cheeks heat up, “Good luck.”

He saw Oscar rolling his eyes but there was a flash of a grin and a tiny wave to JJ before he disappeared from view. Spencer’s stomach steadied itself, busying itself with sloshing his coffee about instead. His grip around his mug adjusted as he turned to JJ.

“He’s not what I was expecting,” JJ said. There was nothing malicious in her tone. In fact, if there was anything, she seemed pleased that Oscar had subverted her anticipations.

Spencer nodded, his mouth turning up a little smile, “That’s what I thought too. Thank you for coming so quickly.”

“It’s ok, anytime.”

They sat together on the sofa, leaving the armchair free just in case Oscar wanted to join them again.

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 Moving in together was supposed to solve everything.

Neither Spencer nor Oscar explicitly said or thought that. But when their triggers persisted and their behaviour shifted dramatically still, they couldn’t help but be a little disappointed.

Spencer had another nightmare last night and woke Oscar up at around half past three. They couldn’t cuddle each other, but their hands would brush and the two men would avoid looking at the matching scars on their thighs – and Oscar’s on his stomach, Spencer’s on his arm.

“Would you have killed Shaw, if I hadn’t done anything?”

“Yes.” “Does that scare you?”

In the dark, he could hear the fear in Oscar’s voice

“No, because I think I would have done the same.”

Carried on as if he hadn’t heard, still scared of himself, “I wouldn’t do something like that now.”

Oscar spent the rest of the night on the couch, so he wouldn’t touch Spencer in his sleep. Words of his therapist spun around his head: “Prison twists and warps people until they’re worse than they were before. We can’t speak now for what we would have done then.”

It was a quiet day as a result of the restless night. Quiet was nice sometimes; it was something new for them to experience together. Spencer and Oscar had breakfast together, washed and dressed, before they went down to the communal laundrette together. Washing and drying clothes was too big a task to do alone, even now, and Oscar needed his shirt to be clean for his job interview in a few days. The nightmare Spencer had faded into the background as he tried to focus on something else.

Without realising, he said aloud to Oscar, “I wanted to kiss you in the laundry room.”

Oscar stopped stretching his damp pyjama shirt out, and it was clear that he had joined Spencer in reminiscing about their job in prison.

“Which time?”

“Every time.”

Spencer watched as Oscar let out a quiet “heh”, a shy smile playing on his lips. But Oscar cut it off quick before either of them could enjoy it, and he reset his expression to blank. The silence that followed swallowed them both whole.

“Oscar,” Spencer moved next to Oscar and, in clear view, touched him on the arm, “It’s ok. You can laugh.”

“I know.”

“You can smile if you want to,”

“I can smile,” Oscar repeated, his words grounding him next to Spencer, his hands flattened atop the dryer as it rumbled into life. His lungs took in a few more breaths to spread a thin layer of calm over him and he looked back at Spencer, “I can also kiss you if I want to, if you want.”

Checking the laundrette door, Spencer’s hand moved from Oscar’s arm to Oscar’s cheek, guiding him home. Their lips met in messy perfection. Short and sweet, with a sigh shared between them, Spencer was pleased to see the smile returned to Oscar by the time they separated. As tense as Oscar felt in his arms, even with the smile soon fading, Spencer could feel the tiniest slack in his shoulders now.

With the most burdensome chore out of the way, the two men returned to the flat. Spencer helped Oscar compose another covering letter to ship off to another job opening before they called Oscar’s family for lunch.

Facetiming was always a trip when they were calling the Dunnagans. Tony had a similar understanding of “technology” as Spencer, so when he answered the call, it was a close up of a nostril or a frowning muted face that greeted Oscar and Spencer on the laptop screen. Eventually Eliza saved them from an eternal farce. She brought them into her kitchen, bringing Dakota and her partner Ellis in on the call when it was time to prep for lunch.

Dakota led the way with a recipe from her restaurant, “If any of you dare share this with anyone, I’ll knock you out.”

Her laugh only sang one note before she slapped her hand over it and looked down at her screen with a face full of guilt. Oscar laughed it off, maybe a little forced, then he swiped at the nearest conversation topic – the world’s hottest pepper.

“Maybe you could stick in in your next recipe. Do a competition where if you eat all the spicy stuff, you get your name on the wall and get half off or something.”

And the call continued for a little longer.

Spencer was just testing out the new spices acquired in their online shop – because according to Dakota there was nothing is worse than being able to actually taste the chicken – when the screen froze. A tiny widget popped up to inform the men that the signal was too poor to continue the call.

Oscar wiggled the mouse, “Oh, God, your connection’s gone again. You mind if I try and find us a better provider?”

“Go for it.”

They clinked their wine glasses together, sipping with questionable responses to it. Oscar dared another sip while Spencer was satisfied with just the one, deciding instead to check on the chicken.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah?”

Oscar placed his wine down. “Are we boyfriends?”

In all their time together, Spencer realised they never once spoke about their relationship status. They just sort of… moved in together, shared a bed, held hands and kissed occasionally – without discussing what was going on.

He said with relative boldness, “I’d like to be.”

“I’d like to be too,” Oscar bit his lip, the smile distorting but still charming as ever. His arms swayed a little. “Can I hug you please?”

With a renewed sense of vigour, Spencer said, “Yes please.”

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 Spencer’s mind needed a rest; perhaps returning to the geographic profile after some time apart would garner a new connection. This case was driving everyone nuts, not just him, and it was only the third day in. he plucked his mug and headed over to the coffee pot for a top-up.

Whilst pouring his third cup of the morning, Spencer took note of his phone’s weight in his trouser pocket. He decided to lessen it, his hand reaching in and dialling for Oscar.

The call clicked after three rings then a boisterous laugh erupted from the speaker.

“Sorry, Spencer! This little one keeps jumping up at me! She barely reaches my knees!” Oscar’s voice was playful. Little claws clicked on a hard floor followed by a tiny yet indignant yip that was echoed by several much deeper barks. Spencer assumed this little one was a ring leader at the dog kennel, the one Oscar was trying to sweet talk.

“That’s ok. You sound like you’re having a good time.”

“It’s brilliant! They let me take four dogs out on a walk at a time!”

The ache in Spencer’s left shoulder from sleeping in an odd position alleviated just a touch. “Yeah?”

“I think I might try to get my licence back, so I can maybe drive them out to the countryside.”

“That’s brilliant news.”

“How’s the case?”

“I’m just taking a break.” Spencer sipped his coffee, burning the back of his throat. As he flinched, he caught sight of Luke’s hand, waving him back over to the conference room. “Sorry, Oscar, I have to get back to the profile.”

“I really like how you say ‘Oscar’.”

“I’m just saying your name.”

“I know,” and Spencer could very clearly hear Oscar’s smile in his voice – even over the constant din from the dogs he was caring for.

“I like how you say my name. See you later?”

“Hopefully. Take care of yourself.”

What a delight to see Oscar, after a rush of evidence flooding in and the pieces slotting together in a now-obvious profile. That evening in fact, Spencer made it back to his apartment at the same time as Oscar. He was carrying a plastic bag to mirror Spencer’s satchel. He didn’t feel like cooking and knew that Spencer wouldn’t be in the mood either; it was a few microwaved meals from the local store in his bag.

They ate dinner in the sitting room on trays - as a treat – and they partook in a very one-sided conversation about Star Trek. Oscar didn’t seem to mind, and honestly Spencer liked the freedom that came with talking here. It was like a hint of who he was before was bleeding through. Every so often though, Oscar would remind him that his food was going to get cold. Spencer would take a moment to eat before the next interesting factoid was inspired from the episode on the TV.

At the start of the next episode, his plate empty, Spencer noticed that Oscar’s gaze was a little restless as he finished his dinner.

“Is something bothering you?” He asked, adjusting his position on the sofa.

Oscar shrugged as he put his cushioned lap tray onto the carpet, “Not bothering me. I’m just curious about something.”

Naturally, Spencer said, “Ask me.” Maybe it was the difference between Vulcans and Romulans again.

“When you stabbed yourself while looking at me, before you got out, was that a substitution for sex?”

Spencer blinked several times. He could feel pinstripes forming on his forehead. He cleared his throat, took a sip of his water, cleared his throat again.

“No, no. I… um.”

Then he stopped because he realised he didn’t quite have an answer yet. His mind was busy straying back to that moment: the flare of pain in his leg and arm, the roaring of inmates around his head, and Oscar - an island of frozen calm amidst the chaos of Spencer’s actions. Eventually, Spencer found a semblance of a reply and he delivered it.

“I was just looking around, and I found you. I think I was looking for comfort.”

Seemingly accepting of this, Oscar’s attention moved back to the TV. His hands occupied themselves with each other. However, Spencer was not quite ready to let the subject go; he’d been thinking about this a lot lately.

“I’m sorry we haven’t…”

Oscar picked up what he was putting down, “Don’t be sorry, Spencer. Don’t ever, ever be sorry for that. I didn’t ask to guilt you. It was in the lesson you taught last week. I listened to it on my break today.”

The image of his Dictaphone on the desk at college - and another of it hanging out of Oscar’s rucksack’s front pocket – recalled itself in Spencer’s head.

“I probably could have asked you a bit nicer,” Oscar altered his position on the couch to bring his knees up to his chest.

“Probably.”

“I’m sorry, Spencer.”

“You’re forgiven.”

“Could you tell me more about the Romulans please?”

As Spencer restarted his speech, albeit with less enthusiasm than before, Oscar brought out his notepad from his backpack. His fingers pinched around the blue crayon as he scrawled Spencer’s facts, putting the differences into a roughly drawn table.  

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 Seeing Oscar standing in the bullpen with a visitor’s badge was not what Spencer expected to see today. He certainly didn’t expect to see him sipping tea with Penelope and chatting away at Spencer’s empty desk. Oscar had clearly just arrived, still bundled up in his coat. The flowers Oscar had sent to the office that morning stood gorgeously arranged beside his oft-neglected computer desktop.

“Hi!” Spencer power-walked up to them, almost reaching a jog. Oscar met him halfway, but his pace decreased the closer he got to Spencer. It was the sound of the team drawing through the glass double doors that told Spencer what was going through his head.

He turned to his family, already gesturing behind him where Oscar stood, “Everyone, this is my boyfriend Oscar.”

Waving, Oscar had his other hand stuck deep in his pocket as he spoke, “Penelope gave me the rundown of your names. Nice to meet you.”

The team was rather tired from the case and obviously a little caught off guard by the fact that the felon Spencer had fallen for was just hanging around in their bullpen. But Spencer was relieved when they all greeted Oscar with a fairly warm manner, wished Spencer "happy birthday" again, before they shuffled off to their respective desks and offices. Penelope bid her farewell to Oscar with the promise of a movie night some time in the future. Then she hugged her Boy Wonder and returned to her batcave.

“Sorry,” Oscar said quietly, “I wanted to travel home with you. Kinda forgot that I would be running into your whole team.”

“I don’t mind. In fact, I wanted you to meet them.”

Spencer’s hand stayed in Oscar’s for the entire walk back to Oscar’s new car in the lot. While they parted momentarily en route, they found each other again when Oscar had to pull over during the drive home. The car that had swerved and cut in front of them became two red lights in the far distance, the sound of its engine and screeching tires muted by Oscar’s heavy breathing.

Oscar released the steering wheel and clung to Spencer’s hand, but Spencer could feel that Oscar was holding back, trying not to crush his fingers. He rubbed over Oscar’s knuckles.

“In, two, three, four,” Spencer counted, “Hold, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.”

He repeated this five times and Oscar leant back in his seat.

“I was doing so well,” He said, his voice cracking in its quietness.

“You still are. We both are.” Spencer kissed the back of Oscar’s hand, “Come on, I’ll drive us the rest of the way.”

Two blocks later and they were about to enter their apartment.

Oscar stopped them though, just before Spencer’s key met the lock, “Could you wait out here? Just for a minute, please?”

Spencer complied, a countdown in his head clicking off the seconds as soon as his front door was closed to him. A smile crept onto his face as he heard Oscar clattering about the apartment. He wasn’t exactly being subtle; Spencer wouldn’t have it any other way.

Once Spencer was finally allowed in, he was greeted by a low-lit scene. Oscar was holding a match to the last candle at the table. He’d taken off his long coat to revealing a freshly ironed floral pattern. The stereo speakers were already humming Mozart. The crumpled takeaway paper bag by the pedal bin didn’t go unnoticed, but Spencer decided to focus instead on how the food was arranged on the plates - either side of a delightful floral arrangement.

“Oh Oscar, you already got me so much this morning,” Spencer said sheepishly, with the knowledge that he had avoided looking up the prices of his gifts so he could calculate just how much of Oscar’s third paycheque went into his birthday.

“I know, but I wanted your birthday to be perfect,” Oscar opened up one of the tubs, a wave of steam lifting gently with the lid, “It’s from the new Thai place down the road.”

Spencer hung up his satchel on his its hook, “I suppose I have been wanting to try their green curry for a while now.”

Once he had changed into something more comfortable (plus a hint of smartness), Spencer sat down with Oscar for dinner. Both men found that he was not immune to the romanticism of a candlelit dinner with his boyfriend, and Spencer more so. The effort behind it, the aroma of the lavender candle with the spiced food, the glow around his Oscar’s face as he went over the day behind them, it was all getting to him.

Of course, Oscar offered to clean up once they were done eating and talking – for now at least. Spencer still helped though. Any time with Oscar was time well spent. Even loading the dishwasher. Except now Oscar was staring at Spencer’s face, gaze fidgeting between his eyes and his mouth, and Spencer was worrying about it.

Christ, what was he meant to do to let Oscar know he wanted to kiss him without saying so? Pout?

“Are you ok?” Oscar’s brow creased.

Fuck.

“Yes,” Spencer said, quickly removing the pout from his lips, “I’m good.”

“Good.” Oscar swung their linked hands between them thrice. Then he let go of one to thumb across the corner of Spencer’s jaw and he closed the gap between them. Spencer felt Oscar’s recently applied lip balm on his chapped lips, those stupid lips that Spencer spent too much time thinking about. They felt so much better against Spencer’s and smiling with reckless abandon. So reckless, in fact, that the smile grew into a laugh, buzzing against Spencer and tickling him more than his facial hair.

Oscar pulled away, still giggling and apologising, “Sorry, sorry, I’m not laughing at you.”

“I know you’re not. You’d never laugh at me.”

  ---> ---> ---> ---> --->

 A chorus of “hello!” harmonised in the doorway as the Dunnagans’ entered Spencer and Oscar’s apartment. Laden with gifts and food offerings, Tony, Eliza, and Dakota kissed and hugged their way into the sitting room.

Oscar and Dakota were the ones in charge, everyone else on some kind of prep duty while they ordered them about in the politest manner. Spencer was trying to be a good prep boy but Eliza was just better and faster, so he stuck to cleaning as they went. Oscar kissed his cheek while passing by; Tony had hung up a sprig of mistletoe just over their heads. Ducking away to avoid kissing his potential father-in-law, Spencer chased the sound of his phone ringing. He even ducked under it as if lowering his torso would avoid the mistletoe above him.

All five swayed ever so slightly out of sync as they bellowed the classics and groaned over the pop renditions. Spencer’s new watch hugged his wrist and ticked away each pleasant second.

“No, don’t hide your hair!” Eliza ripped off the Santa hat Spencer’s head and pulled up flattened tufts of his hair until it resumed its usual messy state.

“There! Never get a haircut, you’re too handsome for that.” She patted his cheek before taking another swig of her red wine – the same shade as her Christmas jumper and Spencer’s cheeks. Spencer looked to Oscar, not to protest but to see if he had Oscar witnessed this.

Oscar merely shrugged, “I mean she’s not wrong.” He finished off peeling the sprouts, handing them over to Tony for chopping, “I have to admit, it was one of the things that drew me to you when we met.”

“Really?”

Another nod in response, Oscar drew nearer, closing the conversation to everyone but Spencer, “You and your Bambi eyes and your hair and your perfect mouth.”

Spencer suddenly found himself unable to look directly at Oscar, as if he were the sun. An outsider looking in might infer that it was the gaudy red of his horrendous Christmas jumper that made his cheeks seem so pink. They would be wrong.

Spencer burst out, “It was Rossi on the phone. He wants to know if you’re still coming tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’m not backing out. If I start to, I need you behind me and pushing me through the door.” Oscar’s shoulders twitched with his laugh.

“I don’t know, feels like you could toss me over your shoulder if you wanted.”

“I could. Technically.”

Spencer’s cheeks went scarlet at the thought of Oscar carrying him down Rossi’s driveway in such a way. But before he could ask Oscar to slow the flow of compliments, Dakota called to them across the room: “Aw, Oscar, you’ve got your own stocking?”

“Yeah, Spencer bought it for me, early gift!” It hung proudly on the bookshelf beside Spencer’s.

The table had already been set for the family. Dakota brought her own crackers, informing them that the snap had been removed. Terrible paper crown and horrendous jokes were passed around the five people before they dished up their Christmas dinner. Comically small in his hands, Oscar cradled the box of the primary coloured crayons in his palm and frisbeed the ruler with the shapes cut out over to Eliza.

The pigs in blankets were a little burnt, the nut roast barely touched, and there was so much left over that they would be eating ham and turkey sandwiches for days to come.

Spencer was so full of food and joy that it would be impossible to be carried on his boyfriend’s shoulder. He settled instead for being held in Oscar’s lap as they squished into the armchair, the rest of the family on the couch to watch the garbage Christmas specials. Dozing on his shoulder with a close-lipped smile, Oscar looked content. His yellow paper crown was crushed near the front, slipping down his left temple.

Oh, Spencer was grateful for his dedicated memory. He could match and topple all those memories of them in prison with times like these forever – and he planned on doing just that.