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tomriddlehyperfixataion · 3 months ago

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Salted caramel, metal, strawberries, vanilla, and ink. Tom Riddle x reader-oneshot

was posted first on ao3, last year, now finally posting it on here for yall to enjoy :D

Salted caramel, metal, strawberries, vanilla, and ink.

That was what Tom Riddle smelled when Professor Slughorn was introducing the class to the most powerful love potion in the world-Amortentia. Tom, when Slughorn had asked if anyone knew what the potion was, obliged and answered, stepping closer to examine the potion.

He hadn't expected to smell anything when he got a whiff of it. the potion was supposed to smell of what, or who, that person was in love with. Tom had maybe thought of parchment, books, iron(snake skin), maybe even another potion-but instead he got salted caramel, metal, strawberries, vanilla, and ink.

A curious combination, one that had him furrowing his brows in confusion and slight wonder. He had a sweetooth-that wasn’t well known, but he did. But salted caramel wasn’t one of the sweets he liked-he wasn’t one for strawberries-too sour more often than not, vanilla? Yeah, he usually charmed some into his cologne, but ink?

He liked ink, but he was sure he didn’t love it, it was just a tool to write with-besides, it gave him a headache more often than not-especially fresh ink.

Tom shook himself free of these thoughts, clearing his throat as he stepped back from the pot-Slughorn watching him curiously. “and-salted caramel,” Tom finished explaining what he smelled, pushing down the flush that wanted to reach his ears as some of the girls in the class-some if not all of them having a crush on him-whispered amongst each other-wondering if Tom loved Salted Caramel, or liked someone that smelled like it.

He was sure it wasn’t a person; he had never had a crush his entire life-he was 16 now-why would he just-suddenly have one now? Girls had never interested him, and he was very sure he wasn’t into men. So, he was sure he just liked certain things he didn’t realize he had.

He didn’t like anyone, not in that way anyway, he didn’t have a crush, he wasn’t in love with anyone-he wasn’t attracted to anyone.

He was sure of it. he had gone 16 years without being attracted to anyone, there was no reason he had started liking someone without realizing it.

It just made no sense.

Tom furrowed his brow at the scent of metal brushing across him-looking to his side to see you. You always smelled like metal after coming back from the black lake-training with swords. You had always been skilled in swordsmanship, even when you were young. How would Tom know that? You had grown up together, at the orphanage, which allowed you certain privileges that others didn’t.

Such as sitting with Tom while you were sweating and reeking of metal. “Did you even take a shower before assaulting me with your sweat?” Tom muttered, flipping the page of his potions book before scribbling something down for his notes-rolling his eyes as you just snorted through your nose, grabbing his cup of pumpkin juice and stealing the rest of it, something Tom had long stopped trying to stop you from doing.

“And miss out on that face you make every time I don’t? Not a chance~” you teased, leaning into Tom, laughing as he huffed and shuffled away from you-pushing your face away from him-his hand cool against your warm face. “Also-I knew you had snacks, so-“ You reached out-snatching the chocolate bon-bon from the golden plate Tom had and popping it in your mouth, humming as you bit into the chocolate and the filling melted into your mouth. “mmm caramel~ you know me so well.” Tom just hummed, not really listening-taking another bon-bon and biting into it. Irish cream.

“Oh hell, I just bought it, how could I already be out of it?” Tom glanced to the stairs that led towards the girl’s dormitories, seeing you trot down, speaking aloud as you rummaged through your bag. “What are you looking for?” Tom asked as he sat up, using his finger as a bookmark as he closed the book he had been reading, his other arm going over the back of the couch-where he had been waiting for you to finish getting ready for the day.

“My perfume, the vanilla one-either I lost it or I already ran out, because I cannot find it.” you grumbled, closing your bag with a huff and walking over to Tom, dramatically bending over the back of the couch and huffing again. “It was my favorite too, and I can only find it in Hogsmeade.”

Tom hummed, patting your head with awkward sympathy, standing when he remembered his cologne also had vanilla charmed into it. you didn’t move as he went back into the dorms-grieving for your missing vanilla perfume. You perked up only when Tom tapped you on the shoulder, offering his cologne. “Is that your…?” you sat up, taking the small square bottle, staring at it for a moment, before grinning. “you know, you try to make me think otherwise-but you really are such a sweetheart Tommy,” Tom-pushing down the urge to smack you, just huffed-his cheeks a light pink as he shoved your shoulder gently.

“Oh just use it, the next Hogsmeade trip is this weekend-we can look for your stupid perfume then.” You laughed but did as told, spraying it as needed and handing the bottle back to Tom-who just put it in your bag. “I don’t want to go back upstairs, now let’s go, or we’ll miss breakfast,” Tom grumbled, ignoring you while you laughed, but letting you take his arm as you walked to the great hall for breakfast.

Tom glanced to the side, seeing you-like usual-next to him, scribbling away on your parchment, doing everything but taking notes. You were drawing-like always, your fingers stained with ink as you sketched. Tom glanced back up, seeing Professor Dumbledore with his back turned and Tom looked back at you-tapping your hand with his fingers, giving you a stern look.

“You need to pay attention,” Tom whispered, rolling his eyes as you just grinned. “Why should I? you always give me your notes anyway, not like I ever miss anything either way.” You whispered back, turning your eyes back to your parchment, redipping your pen-the smell of fresh ink permeating the space between you and Tom.

“At least use less ink, I’m getting a headache,” Tom sighed, knowing it was no use-because yes-he would give you his notes, and you were way ahead of the class in transfiguration, one of Dumbledore’s star students in fact, you hadn't received less than an O in his class since you started.

You obliged and cleaned your pen tip off, letting your previous work dry a bit before resuming your sketch, glancing at Tom once or twice as you doodled out his profile-showing it off to him as you left class, laughing as his ears turned pink and he shoved you away-once again letting you take his arm as you both went off to study during your free period.

Tom bounced his leg as he sat at a table within the three broomsticks, reading a book as he waited for you to arrive-a warm plate of food set in the middle of the table-his jacket and scarf set on his chair. “Sorry, I’m late!” you huffed as you slid into the chair in front of him, grinning as Tom glanced up at you, nodding as you took your jacket and scarf off-setting them on the back of your chair. You turned around again, grinning at Tom-your eyes sparkling as you spotted what was on the table.

“Tom, I love you,” Tom froze, his eyes going wide as he stared down at his book-why had those words shaken him so much? You had said it before? He looked up, sighing as he saw you digging into the plate of strawberries he ordered for you-they were your favorite after all. The juice dripped down your chin-Tom’s gaze following it, swallowing harshly as you wiped it off and looked at him-your grin wide. “yeah yeah, you’re welcome, just don’t use my hand as a napkin again,” Tom muttered, going back to his book, ignoring the way his heart continued to flutter at the words that came from you only moments before.

“That was one time Tommy!”

“Once is still too many times, (y/n).”

He was back in potions class, working on making a brew of the draught of living death-a small competition Slughorn was holding, if someone made a successful brew-they would get a small vile of liquid luck. Tom jolted as he felt a hand dig into his pocket and he snapped his head to the side-sighing as you withdrew your hand, holding two wrapped chocolates. “Seriously?” Tom muttered, going back to his potion, pouring in the juice of 13 sopophorus beans that he needed-stirring seven times, and then once the other way-tapping the stick on the edge of his cauldron before turning to you-watching as you opened the chocolate and took a bite-the caramel inside following the separated pieces and breaking.

“Not my fault you always carry these with you, especially the salted caramel ones-you know they’re my favorite,” you teased, popping the other half in your mouth and going back to your potion, humming to yourself as you worked. Tom rolled his eyes, shaking his head(fondly).he would never admit he carried around those certain chocolates because they were your favorite.

“Of course I know,” Tom muttered, letting his potion simmer until it turned pink-turning the burner off. Perfect. “you practically reek of salted…caramel-“ Tom trailed off, suddenly hit by realization.

Salted caramel, strawberries, Ink, vanilla, metal.

Oh….

Oh shit.

Tom was suddenly all too aware of you, and your scents. Fresh ink on your skin, strawberries on your lips, salted caramel on your breath, metal on your hands, vanilla on your neck. He could smell it all when you were close-which was nearly all the time. Holding his arm, sitting next to him, hugging him, doing anything near him.

He suddenly realized you, the way your hair fell in front of your eyes, how you let Tom brush it behind your ear, grinning at him every time. The way you fiddled with your wand-flipping it between your fingers. The way your shoulders brushed against him whenever you could-standing so close others couldn’t tell where one began and one ended.

Laughter had always annoyed him-and yet he never minded yours, he preferred silence over constant chatter-and yet he could listen to you for hours(though he did zone out sometimes).

This entire time-had he been-in love with you? And had just-never noticed? Is that why he thought he never had a crush-because the entire time-he had liked you.

Tom could hardly comprehend it, he knew he liked you-but he had thought just as a friend, his best friend no less. But-did best friends look at each other like that? Did best friends look at the other's lips, wanting to-do something? Did best friends want the other close at all times? Did best friends yearn for each other? Like he did for you?

When you weren’t around-he missed you, he never dared let it show, and when you teased him about it-he never let it be revealed, unless you bugged him long enough to annoy it out of him.

Did best friends get butterflies when the other said they loved them? Did best friends fall asleep in the common room-curled up together, with the others face in their neck?

Did best friends vow to stay together forever?

Did best friends think about each other all the time? Unable to get rid of the other from their mind, their voice always there, their phantom hands always tingling against his skin.

It took another week for Tom to come to terms with it all, and what had set it in stone-had been another whiff of Amortentia.

Salted caramel, metal, strawberries, vanilla, Ink.

All like you, and he knew-because you were standing right next to him, smelling the exact same as the potion.

He was in love with you.

And he wasn’t all that panicked about it anymore, in fact-he didn’t really mind it, because-you had been by his side since he could remember-who else was worthy of his love, then none other than his best friend?

His breath stopped as Slughorn asked you to say what you smelled-and you stepped forward, towards the love potion-your hand slipping from his arm, a wrapped salted caramel in your other hand. “Ink, books,” your brows furrowed-deciding how to describe something “Cologne; sharp and cold-with a hint of vanilla?” it almost sounded like a question, and Tom swallowed, his eyes on your neck-where your perfume wafted back towards him-along with the other scents from the potion.

Salted caramel, metal, strawberries, vanilla, ink.

“and, um, iron, pumpkin juice, and-wormwood.” You stepped back with that, once again next to Tom; who glanced down at you, watching as you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth-refusing to look at him. he brushed his fingers against your hand-wanting you to look at him, and you did, your breath catching when you caught his eyes.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, not wanting to be caught talking while Professor Slughorn lectured the rest of the class. You nodded, swallowing, your eyes dashing down for a moment before looking back into his eyes. “Never better,” you muttered, turning back to face Slughorn, opening the chocolate and taking a bite-distracting yourself.

Tom just hummed, handing you another chocolate as you finished the first-smirking as you took it and opened it quickly, still avoiding his gaze.

Ink, books, cologne with a hint of vanilla, iron, pumpkin juice, and wormwood.

Tom held back a smile, now-one could call him ignorant and arrogant for assuming-but.

He also knew you, and you knew him.

Salted caramel, metal, strawberries, vanilla, ink.

Ink, books, cologne with a hint of vanilla, iron, pumpkin juice, wormwood.

You liked each other, and Tom was sure you wouldn’t mind going to Hogsmeade with him, though this time-as his date.

-end-

#tom riddle x reader #tom riddle #tom riddle imagine #harry potter fanfiction #fluff fic #amortentia #just full fluff #reader has a sword somehow #idk just go with it

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lalalychee-x · 7 months ago

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DR. RATIO D!CK PROFILE ft. headcannons

♡ WOOO! Per request, next up in this series is DR. RATIO! Didn't expect this series to gain so much attention; should I make a masterlist for it? Anyway, yk those comments that pop out hex codes about character's cock? Yeah, well, I'm going to do that too, and this time its our mundane know-it-all...!

♡ BASICS

girth: #edcfc7 body: #fae9e3 tip: #e8b3a7 size: 7inch-7.5inch texture: pale veins +veiny enough to feel them, very little curve thickness: 2.5inch foreskin: no

DR. RATIO! 's dick is probably well kept as he can't stand mess or imperfections. Looks like a work of ART, goddamn, like its perfectly sculpted. And he's generally one of the thicker ones.

DR. RATIO! 's cock doesn't curve much or at all, again looking pristine perfect. He's overall quite pale, and his tip is pale-reddish, thick and long. It takes up a good 2.5inches of his length off the bat...

DR. RATIO! is awfully stubborn though. He often just plays dead-serious, even if he is aroused by your antics. It does take him a lot of SHEER WILLPOWER to not give in.

DR. RATIO! However, expanding from that, the second he can get off of work, he has you bent over his desk and pounds you from behind. He likes tracing circles on the curve of your back, down your spine to feel and massage every curve and every bone. He grips and feels every lock of hair on your head as he pulls on it gently from behind.

DR. RATIO! Heavily going off of that previous point, he just loves watching your figure shiny with sweat and fluid beneath him. He definitely mutters in awe at your figure, chanting how beautiful you look and worshipping your body as he fucks you: as if you were the most alluring piece of art to him.

DR. RATIO! is, despite appearing cold, praises you a lot; almost worshipping you when he sees your figure on display. He'll trail his hands (and occasionally his tongue) up and down your body, massaging and groaning with a furrowed expression as he does so. Will be constantly mutter praises and compliments breathlessly as he touches you.

DR. RATIO! is, however, a very work-orientated man. You often tease him, almost begging him to give you a bit of attention when he works long hours, or when he keeps saying 5 more minutes when you come to pick him up from his office to have lunch with him. But its not like you back down easily either...

DR. RATIO! Oh boy, you're lucky that his collegues respect him enough to not say anything when you've finally had enough and tug on his belt from under his desk. You purposefully choose when he is on a call or meeting of some sort with his camera on, before being agonisingly slow with sucking him off. You consider it a bit of payback for his cold nature (though, he is comforting at heart).

DR. RATIO! is (not so) surprisingly easy to annoy, but it's also (not so) surprisingly easy to get him hard. Just a few pumps and a couple of licks from you, means he's already having to mask his flustered state; you can tell because he starts furiously tapping his foot under his desk beside where you're sat. Out of view of the camera and the people he's talking to, of course, but he slips up once in a while. "Yes, I think we should — ! Mmh —! Hrgh, s-sorry. Repeat t-that?"

DR. RATIO! takes things slow in general, enough that he can savour you and really take in all of you, like he was analysing you. He relishes your figure as foreplay, kissing you in strange places, but it's pure admiration. To be admired by Dr. Ratio is insanely high praise.

DR. RATIO! ...How do I even describe balls?! Like, at all?! Am also working on a small Ratio x reader fic soon! Keep an eye out and tell me if you'd like that <3

Feel free to ask for other characters!

♡ Please do not modify, steal, plagarise or post on other platforms without asking. Thank you!

#lychee<3 #lychee's sillies #hsr #hsr smut #smut #head under the desk!!#dr ratio #veritas ratio #hsr x reader #hsr headcanons #heacanons #hsr veritas #ratio x reader #ratio hsr #honkai star rail

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ifangirlalot · 11 months ago

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┊ ➶ 𝓫oris 𝓹avlikovsky x 𝓰𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓷𝓮𝓾𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓵!reader ｡˚ ° | !!𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏!!

𝕹𝕾𝕱𝖂 𝕳𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖘 | gn!reader, oral, penetration, free use kink, voyeurism, public sex kink

Love Note From Zee ;;

reminder babies, requests are C L O S E D for the time being. I'll be taking a hiatus from answering requests because honestly, i got way more popular than i thought i would and now i'm overwhelmed by the amount of asks i get on a daily basis :')

SO- that being said, i'm gonna be free ball posting for a bit, and i figured i'd start with doing nsfw headcanons for all the boys since I've already got one for miles. anyways. bye!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ ❛ Boris is a switch, as I've said before. He likes to be dominant when he's sober, but when he's drunk and/or high, or just having a bad day, he wants to be topped and pampered. ༉‧₊˚

❛ Messy head giver. Not because he's particularly drool-y or anything, but because he tends to go fast with his tongue movements and changes his tactic often. ༉‧₊˚

❛ Worth mentioning though that while his head is messy, it's incredibly *good*. His tongue rolling is ON. POINT. ༉‧₊˚

❛ Drunk sex and high sex is a must for him. He says the sensations hit a lot harder when he's under the influence. ༉‧₊˚

❛ He has a moderately sized cock. A solid six inches. He's proud of it, yeah, but he'd probably lie about the size, to be honest. ༉‧₊˚

❛ His favorite position is cowgirl. He likes being ridden. He likes the sight of you bouncing on his cock until you just can't take it anymore. He likes that he can see your hole expanding to take in every inch of him. ༉‧₊˚

❛ Free use kink. He loves the idea of being able to slide his hand down your pants while you're sleeping if he needs some relief. ༉‧₊˚

❛ Public sex kink. The risk turns him on and makes him feel so much hotter. Expect to be bent over in the janitor's closet at school, against a back shelf in the grocery store, in Theo's room, basically anywhere with a sturdy enough object to bed you over. ༉‧₊˚

❛ His secret fantasy is probably to catch you touching yourself. He thinks it would be so hot. Even hotter if you don't know you've been caught. ༉‧₊˚

#💭 ۫⠀HEADCANON.⠀୨୧⠀· ˚#⊹ . SMUT ۫ .#boris pavlikovsky #boris pavlikovsky x you #boris pavlikovsky x reader #boris pavlikovsky smut #finn wolfhard #finn wolfhard smut #richie tozier #mike wheeler #miles fairchild #ziggy katz #miles fairchild smut #mike wheeler smut #mike wheeler x you

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francis-writes · 1 year ago

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Could you do a NSFW Alphabet about Claude Frollo or any other Disney Villain you prefer?

Judge Claude Frollo NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Perhaps you wouldn't expect this but he gets very soft and cuddly. He's too tired and high on serotonine so for some time you don't see him scowling. Instead he just nuzzles his head in your chest and pulls you closer to him.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Claude doesn't pay that much attention to his look, he rather brags about his wisdom, power and righteousness but if he had to choose something, it would probably be his figure in general. The fact that he's tall and slender, yet still strong despite his age.

In your case, it would be your thighs. He likes to squeeze them, lay his head on them, have his head squeezed by them

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

It isn't that important to him but if Frollo had to choose, he would decide to come inside of you. First, because he's catholic and it's one big breeding kink, second - because it makes him feel that he possesed you more.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

You are his dirty secret. Other people probably don't suspect that Frollo has a lover and even if he makes it official, he wants everybody to thing that your the most proper christian couple, sleeping together only to make kids, in complete darkness, without any light, missionary and God forbid any additions to spice things up. If any of you have any marks from heated session, you must cover them and play a virgin in front of Paris.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I headcanon that before meeting you, Claude was a virgin or had maximum a few intercourses. In general, he was celibate in repressed, avoiding even thinking about carnal desires.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He doesn't have one, it depends on his mood. Sometimes he prefers missionary so he can be maximally close to you, sometimes he likes to take you from behind to dominate and overpower you, sometimes he likes you on top. There's no rule.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

To quote Cabaret: "You know this funny thing about Frollo? Yeah... there's nothing funny about Frollo". Maybe once now and then he says something funny, but it's usually morbid/dark/threatening. You know, his kind of humour.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He doesn't pay attention to it but he doesn't have much hair there anyway. They are small, delicate and gray.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Well, he's very passionate, that's for certain. He always fuck you as if it was his last day alive and he uses every opportunity to savour your body.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Remember when I said that Claude avoided even thinking about carnal desires? Well, that's not completely true. Sometimes when he was laying sleepless in bed, he gave into his urges and jacked off, wondering how would it be to break his vows and feel someone's warm touch. But he always had a great remorse later.

Now when you're together, he still jacks off but usually when you're away and he has no choice but to take care of himself. Other things that changed is that now he thinks about you; and he doesn't feel any guilt later.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

A lot. I already wrote many posts about his kinks so now I will just give a quick summary: Frollo is a switch. He likes to torture and dominate you, perhaps roleplay, but he's also a big sub with mommy kink. And he has a foot fetish.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He claims he's refined and picky, which is usually true but when it comes to sex, Frollo would take you wherever. Your bedroom, his office, dungeons of Palace of Justice, even his carriage. If he gets horny, he's not gonna wait until you come home.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

I know it sounds cliche, but everything. Once you get into his bed, it goes like avalanche of repressed desires. Everything in you turns him on, you don't even need to tease him. Your look, your joke, the delicate touch of your hand. Oh, and also murder and torturing people but that's by the way.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Despite his tendecy to fuck in risky places, Frollo would rather avoid getting caught or let people know more details about your intimate life. He has reputation to uphold.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Claude loves it, no matter which way. He enjoys being waken up with a blow job but he also can spend hours just to give you pleasure.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on the moment but he usually likes it rougher, no matter who is in control. Still, there are times when he just wants some sweet loving.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He's all for quickies and nothing strange, considering how often he gets horny. No matter the place, he always can take you right here, right now.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

As I said, when you break that first "oh no, it's a sin", Frollo is pretty much open to experiments as long as they stay a secret.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He isn't that young anymore but he still has some vitality in him. Anyway I would say that if he takes a little break after each round, he can last long.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

How many toys existed in middle ages? Anyway, when it comes to basics like ropes and whips etc he's all for it but you would have to convince him to use a dildo for example. (It takes a bit convincing but it's not very hard)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He doesn't tease you (he likes to keep his image of stoic cold judge) but enjoys when you do it. He can't stand it for long tho and he quickly pulls you to the nearest private place.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He tries his best to stay quiet but he fails miserably. He only can hold back his moans a bit when you're in a more public place and Frollo has to avoid ruining his reputation (never stopped him from fucking you in the carriage tho)

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

It's a tough topic because it can as well be one of no's as one of the kinks. Perhaps both because forbidden fruit tastes better. In short: blasphemy kink and hierophilia. If you convince him to read scripture or wear a cassock during sex, he will be secretly really turned on.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

According to 1st law of dick, he's packin, but tbh i would adore his dick however it would look.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Bigger than you would thought in his age. He would probably like to fuck a few times everyday, start and end every day with your body (and enjoying it in breaks from his job).

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Rather fast. As much as he likes it, sex tires him, he isn't so young after all, so he needs a quick nap.

#judge claude frollo #claude frollo #claude frollo x reader #judge claude frollo x reader #disney villains #frollo

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phoenixisobsessed · 2 months ago

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Heard you’re getting the itch to draw Sentinel! I recommend taking your anger out on him by drawing him choking on Megatron’s spike heheheh

Chat I accidentally drew D-16 but I only realised my mistake after I finished it so…erm.. HERE IT IS FIRST FREAKY POST… kinda scared ngl but oh well here goes.

Like when I said I was feeling tempted to draw Sentinel this s NOT what I expected LMFOAODO. Also I’m definitely not one for Megasent but…yeah his confidence needs to be shot down. Also new headcanon Sentinel gives shit head. But Megs has to stop him from spewing lies somehow, right?

Anyway now I’m considering if I should make an account some other place to post the full works because I do indeed fear the Tumblr pixel jail. I saw that archie-sunshine is now using something called Bluesky and I may check it out just because I am religiously not using twitter?? But we’ll see. For now you have the censored version unless if people start going crazy. UEHUAH

#transformers #maccadams #maccadam #valveplug #/nsft #/nsfw #megasent #tf one #tf one sentinel prime #tfone sentinel #d-16 #tf one d 16 #tf one megatron

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stormxpadme · 4 months ago

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There's a bit of fanfiction negativity in the tags :(. Looking for something to cheer me up, what's your personal scogan fanfic favorites?

Yeah, I saw that, both in the scogan and scogean tag, with posts even including the character name tags. Like. Not cool, people. Way to make authors feel shitty who have been guarding the ship lighthouse for the last 20 years. Claiming in the most popular tags, there's only like 1 good fic among more than 1500? Wow, okay. So I was very happy to receive your ask. Let's counter that negativity with some awesome scogan reads!

Damaged by scottxlogan

Can't do any scogan rec list without including the leading authority on the subject. @scottxlogan is the author who pulled me into this ship years ago, not to mention they're a great friend, unbelievably talented writer and artist, and they deserve all the love. Damaged is surely one of their most ambitious projects and deserves every single view, kudos and review out there. Set in the DOFP finale verse that is no doubt the author's specialty, the story comes with an alluring, intricated plot that leaves you on the edge of your seat along with all the feels.

Submission by scottxlogan

I'm also including a newer work by the same author in case you just want to get a feel for how wonderfully she writes these guys, not to mention the shameless steamy goodness that are the author's smut scenes. scottxlogan is an expert at reversing common fandom tropes believably, and this will leave you longing for more of these power exchanges easily.

he carries the reminders by Wolfsheart

@mischief-and-tea-by-the-sea is another great friend and author I would trust even with my biggest squicks (not that she writes those anyway :D). She's not only technically brillant and very well-versed in the lore which makes every pairing she writes a great read (check out her Tony/Emma, too!), but she'll also never fail to make you laugh or put those hearts in your eyes. And don't miss all those pop culture references that even put Peter Parker to shame! She also gives us scogan fans exactly what we need with stories like this one, combining our fav hurt/comfort tropes with a healthy dose of canon fix it.

I loved you since I knew you by strangenewwords

@strangenewwords is a fairly new and dearly beloved addition to our group at @scoganbingo events, but she's already made a huge impact with her delicious smut and angst stories that hit you right in the feels. Technically also brillant, the linked story is definitely one you don't want to get spoilered for beforehand because the ending will leave you in absolute awe and tears. The author doesn't shy away from including the darkest sides of Scott's past but handles every subject with the necessary care and respect, and as I said ... You don't want to miss out on all that delicious smut!

The Day Before the Soldiers Came by Cerylid

Cery is offering a much-needed fixit for the team dynamics between the X-Men and Logan before X2 with this story. It comes with a lot of humor but also far more feels than you expect. The texting is hilarious but it's the quiet tones that get to you.

*****

Speaking of fix-its, since that negativity in the tags kinda got to me, too, I might just throw in one of my own works here too since I also got lots of Scogan stuff out there.

My spirit's sleeping somewhere cold

is basically my go-to X3 fix-it. You look for something to make that movie right, you got it all right there. Along with a bit of horror (we are talking about resurrection, after all) comes a dramatic rescue mission in a mental limbo, and you get an Avenger and Emma Frost guest-starring. There's a couple of follow up chapters that explore both scogan and Tony/Emma a bit further, and we even get a Laura version in old movieverse along the line, and of course all the nasty nasty smut you guys are here for.

########

So, that's it from the top of my hat. All these accounts have even more great stories to check out, and there's lots of other scogan authors out there with great stories to enjoy. So don't let anyone tell you, there's no quality scogan stuff on AO3.

#sometimes stormy gets asked things #greyskulls #scogan #scott summers #wolverine #fic rec #fic recs #cyclops #scott x logan #cyclops x wolverine #if people are interested #i can look up some scogean too #i feel pretty much alone with my works in that section often #but there a few gems

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lygma-nygma · 8 months ago

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Knowing the original reason(s) that Dick became Nightwing and then reading comics like Nightwing: Year One is just so annoying. Like what is the deal with more modern rewrites making everything surrounding Dick and Bruce super edgy and angsty when the original version of the story was perfectly fine?? It’s like DC Comics is on a mission to assassinate both of their characters to make Dick into a ‘sad boy’, it’s infuriating.

Original Pre-Crisis Nightwing Lore: Yeah I'm just kind of getting too old to be Robin. Like it or not Robin is forever and always going to be known as Batman's sidekick and I just don't feel like that fits me anymore. I'm the leader of the Teen Titans and I spend most of my time doing that and solo missions now anyway. I think I'm going to drop the mantle, take a step back, and find a new identity. Original Post-Crisis Nightwing Lore: I got shot and fell off a building during a mission and almost died right in front of Bruce. It shook him up and made him super afraid of me dying so he told me he wasn't going to run with a Robin anymore because he didn't want my death to be his fault. I was annoyed about him treating me like a kid and that he was throwing all the years we worked together away over one incident but he said it wasn't like that, he just hoped I was old enough to understand where he was coming from. I told him that there was no way I wasn't going to continue being a hero and he fully supported me saying that he would always be there to help if I needed it. I was still hurt by it all, especially when Jason showed up, but ultimately I came to understand why it happened and got over it. Edgy Retcon Nightwing Lore: I went out of my way to SAVE him and then I got PUNISHED because I didn't do it right and wasn't prioritizing Gotham enough despite my THIRTEEN THOUSAND JOBS but I'm not surprised because he's always been unreasonable and HATES ME so now I'm not Robin anymore because Batman is an awful person and emotionally abuses me. And just to be clear it's not like Dick and Bruce didn't fight before the retcon, frequently being at each other's throats is literally a core aspect of their relationship, but I'm just so tired of them retconning every interaction they have into some overdramatic spat. Way to completely strip Dick of all his agency as a character and turn Bruce into an empty cardboard cut out of himself. Hope the angst points are worth it.

EDIT: I also want to add that fights between Bruce and Dick used to have a lot more nuance than they do now. The B&D fights used to be caused by a breakdown in communication on BOTH sides, not just Bruce's. The 'Jason becoming Robin' fight comes to mind. In Batman #416 neither Dick's complaints nor Bruce's excuses made complete sense but that was the point. Bruce should have been better at reaching out but Dick was also expecting Bruce to be a mind reader and know how he was feeling without telling him. Dick left home without saying goodbye well Bruce was on a mission, Bruce assumed that meant Dick didn't want to see him and so avoided reaching out leading to the two of them not talking for a long time. Dick accepts that Bruce doesn't want him as Robin anymore in stride (he even smiles and shit about it) so Bruce doesn't realize that losing Robin actually hurt him, ex. It's that kind of fighting, the "I want to slam both your heads together" fighting, that I miss so much.

#dick grayson #bruce wayne #batman #nightwing #just me complaining about things again #I blame frank miller for this #Frank miller and Tom king when I GET YOU #For those of you wondering the comics referenced here are #The New Teen Titans (39)#Batman (408)#Nightwing (101)#I can't put number signs in the tags so those are all issue numbers lol

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unhingedangstaddict · 2 months ago

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It seems a lot of people are looking for a distraction right now so here's me trying to do my part. I don't have a name for this WIP yet but I have posted a few other scenes from this WIP already (this post and this post ).

Buck packed their bags while Tommy called the San Francisco Police Department's number on the business card that had been left. He learned that his sister, Cassandra and brother-in-law, Marcus were hit by a drunk driver who’d run a red light at a high speed. San Francisco PD explained they hadn’t been able to locate Avery (Tommy's niece) but that they’d sent officers to notify Dylan (Tommy's nephew), and Marcus’ best friend and secondary emergency contact after Cassandra.

Tommy and Buck took Tommy’s truck, yet Buck was driving. Tommy wasn’t in the right headspace for it and had calls to make anyway. He started with Dylan.

“Uncle Tommy,” Dylan sounded relieved as he answered the phone. “Did you hear-”

“Yeah, D, I- I heard.” Tommy confirmed.

“I haven’t been able to get a hold of Avery,” Dylan started.

“I did, sort of. She’s sleeping hard at a friend’s after a softball game. I spoke with the friend’s mom, they’ll keep her there until I can get to San Fran.” Tommy explained. “She doesn’t know yet, I figure it’ll be better coming from one of us.”

“I’m trying to find a flight but they’re freaking expensive, why are all these damn flights so freaking expensive?” Dylan huffed, he sounded like he was spiraling and on the verge of tears.

“Hey, hey- just take a breath.” Tommy instructed. Dylan had a lot to worry about right now, but not having money for a flight was not one of them. Tommy hadn't expected Dylan to have that kind of cash just laying around being a university student. “I’ll send you some money, just get the first flight you can, okay?”

“Okay.” Dylan let out a shaky breath. “You on your way to San Fran now?”

Tommy put the phone on speaker so he could send Dylan the money. “Yeah, yeah I am. I’m sending the money now. Send me your flight details as soon as you have them, okay?”

“Yeah, I will.”

Tommy didn’t talk with Dylan much longer, as Dylan needed to pack a bag and get to the airport.

“He’s probably so scared.” Buck frowned. He knew this was hard on Tommy but he had to imagine it was much, much harder for Dylan.

“No doubt.” Tommy agreed.

“Should- do you think someone’s contacted your father?” Buck asked as carefully as he could. He knew Thomas Kinard Sr was not a great father or grandfather to say the least, but he still should be made aware of what was happening.

“I’ll call him later. Him knowing now or later won't make any difference and he’s probably asleep right now and if someone wakes him up he’ll still be drunk and he’ll be pissed. Noon will probably be the best time to call, he’ll be awake and he’ll have a drink or two in him, but he won’t be shitfaced yet.”

Buck just nodded in understanding, and kept his focus on driving.

The timing worked out that it made the most sense to pick up Dylan from the airport before going to collect Avery. Buck and Tommy waited for him at his arrival gate, and soon he approached them. Dylan was about lanky, about 5’10, with short curly reddish brown hair, blue eyes, and freckles. He looked exhausted and lost as he silently approached his uncle and hugged him tightly.

“I got you.” Tommy told Dylan as he wrapped his arms around his nephew and held him close.

Eventually Dylan pulled away. “Hi Buck.” he said politely, then looked at Tommy. “Still gotta get Avery, right?” He guessed.

“Yeah.” Tommy confirmed. “We should get going.”

Tommy drove them from the airport to Avery’s friend’s house and soon they were parked in front of the house.

“She’s gonna know something is wrong the moment she sees either one of us.” Dylan pointed out. “I should be in Intro to Algorithms right now and you should be, doing whatever you’d be going at eleven in the morning on a Tuesday.”

“I know.” Tommy sighed. “I’m gonna go up to the door and get her, then once she’s in the truck we- we’ll break the news.” He told Dylan, then got out and went up to the house. He rang the bell and patiently waited.

Soon the door was answered by a middle aged woman who must’ve been Madison’s mom. “You must be Avery’s uncle.”

“Yes.” Tommy nodded.

The woman nodded. “I’ll grab her, she’s ready to go.” She promised and disappeared further into the house.

After a moment Avery came into view. Avery was 5’6 with an athletic build, and the same reddish brown colored hair as her brother, though her hair didn’t have the same curl her brother’s did. She had the same blue eyes as him though, and more freckles than Dylan. “Uncle Tommy?” She frowned. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ll explain in a moment. We should get going, there’s some people waiting in the car.”

“Okay.” Avery said slowly. She turned to her friend and said goodbye, grabbed her bag, and followed Tommy out to his truck. She opened the back passenger side door and saw her brother. “Dylan?”

“Hey Aves.” Dylan tried to sound upbeat but didn’t quite hit the mark.

“You look like shit.” Avery told her brother as she handed him her bag and climbed into the truck.

“Thanks.” Dylan said sarcastically as he shoved her bag on the floor between their feet.

“Okay, now will someone tell me what is going on? Where’s mum and dad?”

“Avery, they um,” Dylan started, but was having a hard time continuing.

“There was an accident last night. They were hit by a drunk driver.” Tommy continued.

“No. No you’re lying.” Avery shook her head.

“They’re gone, Avery. They didn’t make it.” Dylan explained.

“And you guys kept it from me?” Avery seemed upset by this.

“Was I supposed to send a text, hey Aves we’re orphans now?” Dylan asked incredulously.

“You should’ve told me! You kept it from me for- well long enough for the two of you to get here.” Avery argued.

“We wanted to be with you, when you found out.” Tommy explained calmly.

“This isn’t happening.” Avery muttered and put her head in her hands.

Tommy looked helplessly at Dylan, then at Evan.

All Buck could do was take Tommy’s hand and try to offer some silent comfort. He had a feeling he’d be doing that a lot the next little while.

If anyone wants to read more lmk I've got a bunch of this story written and I'm happy to share if someone needs something to take their mind off other things for a little bit

#911 fanfic #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy fanfic #tw death #current wip #uncle tommy kinard

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psychovigilantewrites · 7 months ago

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Sunshine's Shadow - Chapter 2

WordCount: 10k

Ao3

A/N: I didn't realise how much of a slow burn this was. Also, this is unedited for typos and grammatical errors OOPSIES my adhd chaos just NEED TO POST THIS

Having your best friend back was a type of happiness you never knew you could ever experience. Especially after grieving him. There were no words to describe the way you just wanted to cling on to him, scared he would be taken away from you again.

The week went on with the both of you spending almost all of your waking time together. You had burgers during your stakeouts, listened to comedy podcasts, and you even taught Jason how to use your camera. You hadn’t noticed how much you were devoid of laughter until you started spending time with Jason and laughing until your stomach hurt.

There was definitely a pull, and you noticed the looks Jason had given you. You wondered if this was okay. You knew he had a crush on you from before, but you didn’t expect for him to still like you right now. You didn’t want to lead him on. You couldn’t lead him on.

You were with Dick, after all.

You sighed loudly.

“You okay there?” Jason asked from the passenger seat, mouth full of french fries. You couldn’t find much illegal activity from Thorne’s phone, as you suspected, but you did get to know of his accountant. It made sense for Thorne to have a personal accountant to deal with the money flow. Now the both of you were staked out of Mrs. Eriksson’s house.

“Oh- sorry,” you hadn’t noticed that you let your shadow grow. You closed your eyes and reeled the darkness in.

“No, you don’t have to do that,” Jason protested, “We’re staking out in the car at 12 AM. Some darkness would be a great cover.”

He was right. You let yourself go.

“What’s on your mind?” he prodded.

You bit your lip in contemplation. Should you bring it up? Or should you just leave it be? Jason was a smart, grown, adult man. He didn’t need to be told the obvious, right?

What was the obvious anyway? That you didn’t have feelings for him before he died? That wasn’t true. That you got together with Dick in order to replace the emptiness he left? How did you feel about him now, that he was back?

“Dick said you used to have a crush on me,” you said.

“That damned snitch,” Jason cursed.

“To be fair to him, you were dead when he told me,” you assured, “Plus, it’s not like I didn’t know. You know I can read people.”

Jason shifted in his seat. He was wearing a long sleeved gray Henley that did nothing to hide his muscles. Unlike Dick, Jason rarely styled his hair. He let the fringes of his straight dark hair down in front of his eyebrows and would occasionally push his hair back with his fingers.

“Yeah, I know,” he was running his hand at the back of his head, messing up his hair further, “Yeah, I had a crush on you. So what?”

You turned towards him and leaned closer, trying to catch his expression in the dark. You tried his method of intensity, piercing his eyes with yours. “How about now?”

You saw the minute details of his microexpressions. He blinked once, his eyebrows drawn together, his eyes darted to the left and you noticed he clenched his jaw. Finally, he smirked and looked at you again.

“You’re the one who can read people. You tell me.”

You could have said that you noticed the way he tries his best to not reach out and hold your hand, the way his eyes dart from your eyes to your lips from time to time, how he couldn’t stop looking at you, how he licked his bottom lip when you leaned in close. You could have said that all that points to at least some level of attraction, and maybe even more. You could have said that maybe you caught yourself doing those things too.

Instead, you said, “Anna Eriksson’s light switched on.”

You both turned towards the house and waited. Anna Eriksson was a wife and a mother of two. She exited her town house and unlocked her car, her long straight platinum blond hair held high in a ponytail.

“Finally, some action,” Jason said excitedly.

You tailed her dark sedan expertly until it slowly came to a stop beneath a complexity of overpasses in southwest of Old Gotham heading to Tricorner Yards. You drove a few blocks away further down the road and turned into an alley and parked the car. You could still see Eriksson from the zoom lens of your camera.

“I wanna see too,” Jason whined.

“You should have brought binoculars,” you rolled your eyes. “Really, aren’t you all a family of vigilantes? To think you’d be more prepared.”

Eriksson was leaning against her vehicle. Dressed in an all black pants-suit and smoking a cigarette, you thought she looked pretty cool.

“Oh, another car is coming,” you told Jason.

Another black sedan arrived and stopped right in front of Eriksson. You started snapping pictures.

“Who is it?” Jason demanded.

“Fucking hell,” you swore in surprise. The short, bald and overweight man who wore the tophat was known to anyone in Gotham. “It’s fucking Cobblepot.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Jason crossed his arms. “Kinda anti-climactic to be honest. Such a predictive plot.”

You ignored Jason and kept snapping photos. Oswald Cobblepot, the wealthiest criminal of Gotham City wobbled towards Eriksson and passed her a briefcase. Jason was right that it wasn’t surprising because it probably was not Cobblepot’s first play in politics. The exchange itself was brief, where Cobblepot said a few words to Eriksson who was nodding intently. Then, both of them left.

After tailing Eriksson back to her house, you called it a night and drove away.

“I wonder what the deal is,” you pondered out loud.

“Probably if Thorne becomes mayor, he would have Cobblepot’s funding in exchange for immunity in the underground,” Jason answered.

“But why Thorne and not Hill? What does Thorne have that Hill doesn’t?”

“Control over Gotham’s largest shipping company?” Jason offered.

“That may be it. We need more evidence,” you concluded. “Drop you off at yours again?”

Jason was staying in an apartment in East End on Kitt Street. You haven’t been inside, and he has not invited you in. You didn’t ask.

***

“Stake out with Jason again?” Dick’s voice made you jump.

You had just reached home and Dick was still in his Nightwing suit sans the mask.

“Yeah,” you walked over to him, “Found out Cobblepot is sponsoring Thorne.”

“Kinda expected, huh?” he smiled and wrapped his arms around your waist. “We found some blackmarket items at Dixon Docks the other day in Triton shipping containers. You think that’s related?”

“Definitely,” you agreed, “Just gotta get evidence. But enough about work, how are you?”

“Better now that you’re here,” he leaned in to kiss you.

“You’re all sweaty,” you half-complained as he started down your neck.

“You didn’t complain the first time,” he smirked, “Or the second, or the third, or the-”

“Okay, I get it,” you giggled.

He kissed back up to your lips and settled on a slow, gentle pace. He broke the kiss and said “Get in the shower. I’ll be there soon.”

Your eyes widen at his command and you immediately head to the bathroom and took off your clothes. The water temperature was just right and you stepped in and sighed, washing off the fatigue of the day. A pair of hands snaked around your waist from behind and Dick got wet with you.

He pressed himself against you and you could feel his hardening cock heavy on your back.

“Dick,” you whimpered, grinding your ass on his length.

“Nuh uh,” he teased, “Gotta clean you up first.”

He reached for the body wash and started lathering up soap on you. His strong fingers gently rubbed and slid on your body, down your tummy, in between your legs. “Dick,” you whined.

His fingers parted your lips and found your clit, immediately circling and putting just the right amount of pressure. He knew your body almost better than you knew yourself. All the times he experimented with you and pleasured you meant he knew which buttons to tease and which to push.

“Need- you,” you panted at him.

“Hold onto the wall,” he instructed. You pressed both your palms against the wet tiles and bent over. His hands were placed on your hips to give you support. You trusted that he would not let you fall. This wasn’t the first time you had shower sex with him after all.

“Fuck,” you moaned when you felt him fill you up to the brim. You were familiar with his cock, and how he liked to still inside you after the first push, to get you adjusted to his size but also to tease you. You got yourself ready for what was to come.

He slid out, and with the strong grip on your hips, he fucked you hard back on his cock, forcing the air out of your lungs. You never had time to scream when he was like this with you, because he would pummel into you relentlessly. All you could manage was eyes rolled into the back of your head, and an open wide ‘O’.

In no time at all, you came, and he still fucked you while you got down from your high before pulling out to finish on your ass. The water immediately washed away his cum. Dick was a silent lover, the only sounds he made were soft and quiet moans, a few gasps, and a small groan when he came.

You lost your grip and almost collapsed back onto him.

“You okay there, darling?” he held you up by embracing you in his arms.

“Mmm,” you hummed.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckled and kissed your temple. “Let’s get you all dried up and tucked in.”

You laid on his chest, hearing his heartbeat. Your eyes were droopy.

“I’ll be going on a mission for a few days,” he informed you. “Leaving tomorrow night.”

“Oh,” you responded, slightly disappointed. “Batfamily or a team thing?”

“Team thing.”

Your chest squeezed.

“Will she be there?”

“Not sure.”

Liar.

“Jason will be there, though,” he added.

That surprised you. “Oh? How come?”

“I asked him if he wanted to do something with the others that didn’t involve Bruce or Tim,” Dick explained, “He agreed. I think it’d be good for him, don’t you?”

“The fact that he agreed means that he is trying his best,” you agreed, “I’m so proud of him.”

“I think spending all that time investigating with you helped him,” Dick said, “Like it was the first step to getting out of his rut, you know?”

“He didn’t even seem like he was in a rut when he was with me,” you wondered back, “I mean- I knew that he was struggling in general with the whole guilt and self-loathing. But I didn’t know he was completely cut off from everyone else.”

“Not completely,” Dick sighed, “But he might as well have been. He tries, though.”

You smiled. Jason always tried his best at anything. “How long will you be away for?”

“Just three or four days. We’re going somewhere south this time. Nothing too big. Bane sighting, so just a recon for now unless we hit something big.”

“Looks like I’ll be on my own for a while, then,” you thought out loud, “I think I’ll just send in my first round of evidence and report to my client. It’s just Thorne’s accountant that is linked to Cobblepot for now, so if they want a deeper investigation linking back to Thorne, they’ll have to wait a little longer while I figure it out.”

“Try not to stir up the pot too much with Thorne, please,” Dick insisted, “I know you can take care of yourself, but I also know you don’t want any attention. It’ll be harder to do future jobs too if everyone knew who you were.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you conceded. You were getting sleepy again. “I’ll figure it out without exposing myself. Considering that I’m high in demand right now means that I should start laying low.”

“They should pay you more,” he stated. “Sleepy? Goodnight, darling. I love you.”

Your eyes closed as you mumbled back a reply.

***

The days that went by were uneventful, but that meant that you had time to sit back and reset.

Dropping off the evidence and report at a different locker from the first, you now had to wait a day before Dick and Jason came back from their mission. You usually dealt with being alone well, but for some reason you felt a tension in your shoulders. This usually happened when Dick was on a mission that lasted more than a couple of days, and especially if she was involved.

Unpleasant memories gnawed at your mind, so you forced them away by reorganizing your case files, your liquor cabinet, and your wardrobe. These were basically the only things you had in Dick’s apartment. You didn’t get attached to things, so the clothes you owned were just the essentials based on occasion- for when you needed to be professional, for when you needed to dress up, for when you needed to seduce, and for the everyday casual. You noticed a lot of dark colors. Navy, midnight, dark brown. Those were the colors you felt most comfortable in. Muted, and in the shadows, where you felt like you belonged.

That was how you kept yourself busy until both of your boys came back. You were anxious and on edge even worse than before, your gut making you feel uneasy. Intuition was one of your strengths, and that made it easier for you to tell what other people are thinking.

Dick had texted you before he returned, a ritual of his. He would always let you know when he was on the way home, safe. A portion of the tension was relieved, but you still felt like a rubber band stretched and waiting to snap.

It was sunset when you heard the familiar jingle of keys muffled behind the door. You stood up from the sofa and straightened your clothes, ready to greet him.

When you saw his face, you gasped.

“Dick! What happened?” you rushed to your partner. He had a large bruise forming on his left cheekbone, spreading to his slightly swollen eyes. “I thought you said it was just a recon.”

He averted his eyes from yours as he closed the door. You went to the freezer to get an ice pack you always kept handy and went to press it on his face.

“I’m fine, really,” he tried to awkwardly smile.

“It’s not everyday you come back with a bruised face,” you worried, “Who managed to hit you? Bane?”

“No,” he couldn’t meet your eyes again. He took the ice pack from you and sat down on the sofa. You took a seat next to him.

“Then?” you persisted. “Tell me.”

Dick closed his eyes and sighed. “Jason did.”

“Jason? What do you mean Jason?” you questioned, perplexed. “Jason punched you in the face?”

He turned his head away from you. It was obvious based on his body language that he was extremely uncomfortable and was hiding information from you. You didn’t need to be a pro to tell that.

“Yeah.”

You blinked. “Dick. I want to hear everything.”

“Yeah, I know,” he replied quietly, “You should know.”

Silence.

“Well?” you probed.

“It was, uh, after the mission. Everything was done and everyone had packed. We were at HQ,” he began, still speaking quietly and averting his eyes. “I was in the living room with Kori. We were just talking.”

At the mention of her name, you now knew where this was going. You felt a heat creeping up your neck and settling in your cheeks, burning. Your heart started racing. Your chest tightened until it started to hurt. Suddenly, all the memories you wanted to push away came flooding back.

Her touch on his shoulder. His eyes lighting up at his phone. You mistaking his phone for yours and seeing her messages. You crying, him apologizing. Nothing has happened between us, he promised. They’re just text messages. We’re just good friends. She’s hardly even on Earth these days.

You bit your lip and turned away, eyes brimming with tears you did not want to let fall.

“…one thing led to another, and,” he continued, “We kissed. Only for a moment. It was less than a second, I swear. Jason walked in on us and he just- he flipped. He grabbed me and punched me in the face. Said a lot of nasty things to both of us. Roy had to break it up, or things would have escalated.”

You remained silent, not knowing how to respond, not knowing what to even feel.

“Darling?” he turned toward you this time to look at you. You were staring straight ahead. “I promise, it meant nothing. It hardly even counts as a kiss. Nothing happened after. I didn’t even say goodbye to her, I haven’t said anything to her after I left.”

You turned to him, now feeling something. Heat, and anger. How dare he.

“It was just a short kiss?” you asked.

“Yeah-“

“But it would have been longer if Jason had not interrupted,” you stated.

“W-what-“

“But it would have possibly led to more than just a kiss if it weren’t for Jason,” you monotoned.

“I… I don’t know,” he admitted.

“Then, Dick Grayson,” you stood up, “We are done.”

You stormed off to your room, Dick following behind you.

“Darling, please!” he called, “Let’s talk about this. Please.”

You grabbed your phone and sent a quick text to Jason.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you said coolly. You opened your closet and reached for your backpack.

“Where are you going?” he asked, eyeing your overnight bag.

“That’s none of your business,” you fumed, walking past him toward the door. “There are so many things I want to say to you right now, but I am not in the right mind, and I will end up saying things I will regret.”

“I deserve everything you say to me.”

“You self-pitying bastard!” you turned and roared at him, “How dare you use your own guilt on me. You manipulative piece of-“

You stopped in your tracks, trying so fucking hard to reel in your shadow, to control yourself. You counted backwards. Dick knew not to disturb you at this state.

With one last deep breath, you left.

***

coming over. be there in 30.

Jason had not expected that text from you so soon. He knew you would have found out eventually, because if Dick had the nerve to lie to you, then he would be the one to tell you. It must have been difficult for Dick to tell you the truth, Jason thought. But Dick must have weighed out his options. His older brother knew that lying would have made him looked worse because there was no way Jason was going to keep you in the dark about something like that.

He was worried. Any other man who was in love with you would have been happy to hear that you were coming to them teary and heartbroken by your boyfriend. Any other man would have taken advantage of your vulnerability.

But Jason genuinely did not want you to feel that kind of pain. He wanted to protect you, he wanted you to be happy. You were his best friend. Which was why he was so fucking angry with Dick. How dare he.

He waited outside by the road for you and saw your familiar black sedan pulling over. The next thing he knew, you were in his arms, sobbing into his shirt. He placed a hand on the back of your head, and the other on your waist.

“I know, sunshine, I know,” he whispered to you. The both of you just stayed there in that position for a while. The streetlights were on, and the working class were heading home for the day. Some stared, but quickly averted their eyes when Jason glared at them.

Once you calmed down a little, Jason guided you up to his apartment. “It isn’t much,” he said, anxious about you seeing his tiny place.

It was a single bedroom, with a small battered up sofa and an unplugged TV on the floor. The kitchen area consisted of a single stove next to a small sink with overhead cabinets. One lone fridge stood next to the stove, and a circular dining table with a plastic chair was placed in between the kitchen area and the living room. He hadn’t invited you in this whole time because he didn’t want you to see the sorry state of his current home.

“I haven’t had time to properly get furniture or like, decorate or anything,” he continued. Not like he thought that you were going to judge, but Jason was proper in that sense, where he felt like his guests needed to be comfortable. He did eventually want to do some interior designing, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to put in effort into a temporary space. He eventually would want to move to a bigger apartment.

“It’s fine, Jay,” you sniffled, moving towards his sofa to sit down. Jason gave you a glass of warm water and sat down next to you. “Thanks. Sorry to barge in on you like this.”

“You can barge in anytime, you know that,” he nudged you with his shoulder. “So, come on. Talk to me.”

You looked at him with large watery eyes, and a trembling lower lip. Jason’s heart broke for you.

“He told me why you punched him,” you started, “Thanks for that, by the way.”

“I would have done more,” he grit. Roy shouldn’t have stopped him.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“You already know what happened.”

“Not all of it,” you bit your lip, “He said that you were cursing at them. And Roy had to break it off.”

’You piece of shit, Grayson. What is wrong with you? Who do you think you are where you can do anything you want?’ Jason had said to a guilty looking Dick who was massaging his face after the punch. Starfire was next to him, silent. ‘Your whole Golden Boy persona was just to fool everyone around you, after all, huh? No wonder Barbara left you.’

‘Jason-’ Starfire had interrupted.

‘And you,’ he turned towards her. ‘You’re supposed to support other women, not sabotage them and tear them down.’

‘Don’t bring her into this, Jason,’ Dick defended, ‘You know her customs are different.’

‘Bullshit. You don’t get to use that as an excuse anymore. You’ve been here for what, a decade already? You know how we are. You can feel how we are. Time to stop fucking playing dumb, you’re not fooling me.’

‘Jason,’ Dick angrily stepped up to him, ‘Take a walk.’

‘How about you go fuck yourself, you cunt,’ Jason shoved him back, ‘Do you have any idea how long it took for her to trust anyone? Do you have any idea how much of a fucking asshole for you to be in order to hurt someone like her? You’re a fucking sham, Grayson. You’re a narcissist who manipulates people into doing whatever the fuck you want them to.’

‘What’s going on here?’ Roy had stepped in.

‘That’s what you did, didn’t you?’ he went on, ‘She was grieving, and one day she was crying and I bet you swooped in just to fuck her-’

‘You going to tell her, then?’ Dick had smirked. He had fucking smirked at Jason. ‘Isn’t this the perfect opportunity for you? You wanted her all along, right? So you’re going to tell her so she can finally see you as her knight in shining armor? Because whatever you did wasn’t working, trying to sweeten her up by calling her- what was it? Sunny, and Sunshine-’

Jason had it, then. He looked at Dick straight in the eye and-

“I spat at him,” he told you, omitting the rest. “Roy had to stop us then.”

“You didn’t,” you gasped. “Oh Jason, you really didn’t have to.”

“It just happened,” he said honestly, “Everything that happened, it was just instinct to me. I couldn’t let him get away from hurting you.”

You stared at him, and then tackled him into a bear hug.

“Jason, you’re the best,” you said into his chest. “I’m so glad I have you.”

Jason’s chest tightened with longing.

“I know, Sunny. I’m pretty awesome.”

You giggled.

Jason loved making you laugh.

“Could I stay here for a while?” you looked up at him with pleading eyes. “Just a week or two. I’m going to talk to the landlady and see if my old place is still available.”

“Stay as long as you like,” he smiled, caressing your hair.

“I’ll take the couch.”

“What? No. You take the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“I can’t take your bed,” you rolled your eyes at him, “This is your place. You’re doing me a favor.”

“I’m not letting my guest-” he booped your nose, “take the couch.”

“I’ll just sleep here then and you can’t do anything about it,” you insisted stubbornly.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Jason stood up without warning, and then grabbed you by the hips, lifting you up and throwing you onto his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

“Jason- what the fuck!”

“I’m doing something about it,” he chuckled.

“Jason, put me down!” you slapped his back.

He carried you to his room and-

“Put you down? Okay,” he threw you onto his perfectly made king sized bed. He stood looking down at you with his hands on his hips and grinned triumphantly.

You pouted at him. “Fine. How about we both take the bed.”

Jason’s heart skipped a beat. “What? No.”

“There’s plenty of space for the both of us!” you argued. “And we used to have sleepovers all the time.”

“That was before!” he argued back, “We can’t share a bed now.”

“And why not?” you demanded.

“It’s inappropriate. You’re a girl, and I’m a guy.”

“It’s only inappropriate if you’re planning to do something inappropriate. Which you aren’t, are you?”

Jason felt heat in his cheeks and silently cursed himself for acting like a school boy.

“Of course not!” he huffed.

“Then there’s no problem, is there?” you gave him a smug look.

Jason silently scowled at you. “Fine.”

“Great, now I call dibs on the bolster.”

Jason didn’t bother arguing with you, because whatever you wanted, he knew he couldn’t say no.

***

In truth, you didn’t want to be alone.

It was funny how you were so used to being alone, and have always found comfort with your own company. Yet this time, the loneliness scared you. You didn’t want to be alone anymore, and Dick doing that to you triggered a kind of fear that you didn’t know existed.

A long time ago, Jason had made a joke about how sharing a room with you meant he could get better sleep since you made it dark and he didn’t need blackout curtains. You realized now that everything he said to you was a way to make you feel better about your shadow, even if you didn’t show any insecurity. He found little ways to let you know how much better it was with your shadow.

After dinner, which was just instant ramen and eggs that Jason had overcooked, the both of you watched a movie on your laptop in bed. Jason had fallen asleep halfway, and you suddenly felt bad for imposing on him. He must have been tired from the mission. You put your laptop away and layed next to him, attempting to fall asleep as well.

But there you were wide awake, suddenly hyper-aware of your own looming darkness around you and Jason’s back facing you. Dick was not your first, but he was your first serious partner. You really loved him, even then as you lay heartbroken.

Fighting back tears, you tried concentrating on Jason’s steady breathing.

He was breathing. He was alive. This time last year you were still mourning him, trying to move on by clinging onto Dick.

Was that what Dick was to you? Were you with him just so you could have an idea of how it would be like if you were with Jason?

Then why did this hurt so bad?

You woke up the next morning to Jason still sleeping next to you. His slight frown that was ever present relaxed slightly while he was asleep. You used to do this last time, too. Whenever you had sleepovers, you would observe him. How his lips were slightly parted, how he would bundle up in the sheets like a burrito. He hadn’t changed in that aspect.

Small scars littered his face, more than before. His eyelashes were slightly longer and darker, as were the circles under his eyes.

He stirred. You quickly turned to lie on your back.

“Hnggh,” he stretched and yawned, “Oh, you’re awake. Mornin’. Sleep okay?”

“Mhm,” you nodded and moved to get up, “How about you?”

“Not so good,” he rubbed his eyes and looked at you, “Someone was snoring super loud.”

“I do not snore!” you hit him with a pillow.

He laughed.

You cooked breakfast this time, scrambled eggs on toast while Jason waited. While you were eating with him, you asked, “Hey. Do you think you can come with me to Dicks’? I told him to pack up my stuff. It’s not much, but I’d like the company.”

***

Jason noticed you were biting your nails as you drove to Dicks’.

He felt bad for you in your anxious state, the interior of the car much darker than outside. He would have to keep a cool head while he was there, because it wasn’t about him. He was only with you for moral support.

You unlocked the apartment door with your key and turned the knob.

“Baby!” Dick approached you but paused when he saw Jason. “Oh, you’re here too.”

Jason raised an eyebrow.

“I told you not to be here, Dick,” you groaned. “Did you even pack up my stuff?”

“I did,” Dick followed you into your room, “But I wanted to talk.”

Jason let you and Dick have some space, but hovered closeby to make sure you were okay.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you shoved a box into Jason’s arms. “Could you help carry a couple of these? It’s not much, I promise.”

“Sure,” he mumbled back as you stacked another box on top.

“You can bring these to the car first?”

He glanced at Dick. “You going to be okay on your own?”

“I can take-”

“I know you can take care of yourself, but that’s not what I meant,” he said sternly.

You paused. “I’ll be alright. Thank you.”

He left and loaded the car. He walked back to the apartment.

“-you know how I felt about you. How I still feel about you,” Jason overheard Dick. He entered the apartment quietly to watch the two of you talk.

“No, I don’t. I have always felt insecure about her and you knew that. I always suspected that you guys weren’t actually over,” you put a box on the counter and crossed your arms at Dick, lips trembling.

“I’m really sorry that I made you feel that way,” Dick replied, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “But we were there for each other. We both mourned together. That’s not something I shared with anyone else.”

You turned away and glanced at Jason for a moment, who gave you a small encouraging smile.

He hated seeing Dick touch you the way he was.

“And I cared for you and stayed with you,” Dick continued, “Even though I knew that it wasn’t me that made you stay. Even though I knew the whole time you wished I was Jason.”

Jason saw a flash of anger in your eyes, and you slapped Dick’s hand away.

“Richard John Grayson,” you fumed.

Jason recognized the change of aura even though he had not felt it in years. Suddenly, the room grew dark, as if an eclipse were happening right outside.

“How dare you insinuate that I was thinking of another man while I was with you,” you growled, “How dare you think that I stooped that low. That you think I have no decency and dignity to do that to you, when you were the one who kept on running behind my back.”

Behind you, a darkness grew and grew, distorting the lighting in the room in impossible ways. Dick took a step back from you. This was what scared everyone else away from you.

But to Jason, this was one of the most beautiful forms he saw you as. A dangerous, powerful dark queen. He stared in awe at you, his heart racing because he forgot how much he loved seeing you like this. It was as if he had fallen in love with you all over again for the very first time.

Then, Jason remembered where you were, and he knew you would regret it if you were to accidentally cause any harm to Dick.

“Hey, Sunshine,” he stepped in, “The car’s all loaded and ready to go.”

Your eyes snapped back at Jason, and then darted towards Dick. There was a slight panic on your face before the room was bright again.

***

There was a specific kind of anxiety you felt when you feared judgment coming from someone you love, and whose opinions matter to you. You noticed that Jason had been sneaking worried glances at you as you drove back from Dicks’, and even as you both carried your things up to his apartment.

Was he wary of you now? You had lost control of your shadow for a moment when you were angry at Dick. Jason had snapped you back to reality, but you saw the look on his face. Eyes wide with shock and worry.

“I understand if you don’t want me to stay here anymore,” you said when the both of you finally put all your things down in Jason’s apartment. “I have money and I can find a place to stay.”

Jason crossed his arms at you. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” you hesitated, looking anywhere but his piercing gaze. Suddenly the peeling paint on the walls felt more interesting. “You saw what happened. I understand if you don’t want that kind of danger around you.”

“That kind of danger?” Jason repeated before realizing what you meant. He sighed and walked toward you, skipping past the boxes on the floor. Towering over you, he lifted your chin up with a finger. “Do you think I’m afraid of you?”

“You looked like you were…”

You saw his frustration. “Tell me, amongst the both of us, who here has actually hurt Dick?”

You blinked at him.

“You have this- this darkness, right? Do you think getting beaten to death, resurrected in some weird magic cartoonish toxic waste looking pit and then brainwashed wouldn’t affect me and make me have some kind of darkness as well? Between you and me, I have caused way more destruction than you have. Way more. Do you really think I’d be afraid of you?”

“Well- but- you don’t have this uncontrollable power that could hurt the people you love at any time!” you argued.

“Sunny, listen to what you’re saying!” he responded incredulously, “I literally tried my best to hurt the people I love. You have been trying your best to protect them. Haven’t you?”

You avoided his piercing gaze by looking away. “I guess.”

“So don’t be silly,” he booped your nose, “Put away your things and stay as long as you want. Make a grocery list to stock up the fridge, and maybe help decorate the place a little, huh?”

“Yeah, okay,” you smiled sheepishly at him. “But I don’t want to stay for long. Just until I get somewhere more permanent. There’s only one bedroom and you snore.”

“I do not!” he huffed as he helped pick a box of your clothes to bring to the room.

“Jason?” you called out. “Thank you.”

He shrugged. “Don’t mention it.”

The days flew by and you found it hard not to enjoy this new routine that you and Jason had built. It wasn’t dissimilar to Dicks’ as Jason also went out at night for patrol. The only difference was that he didn’t have a day job, which made you question how he could afford his bills and rent.

“I have my ways,” he simply replied when you brought up the subject. It was dusk on the eighth day you were there and he was armoring up for the night, double checking his weapons and gadgets.

“Are you still doing illegal nightly activities?” you asked.

“We’re a family of vigilantes,” he managed to give you a roll of his eyes before putting on his helmet. “Everything we do is illegal.”

You approached him and placed both your palms on either side of the shiny red metal helmet that were littered with scratches and scuff marks. You could hear his crackled breathing through the built-in voice changer.

“You know what I mean,” you said, rubbing off a mark where his brow should be.

A pause. “Yeah, I have some arrangements with some contacts. But it’s nothing that can harm anyone. No drugs or trafficking or anything. Some smuggling of rare goods. Antiques.”

“That’s good,” you smiled, “I’ve dabbled in some black market antiquities myself.”

“You have?” you heard the surprise in his mechanical walky-talky like voice.

“Mhmm,” you nodded, “For a client a couple years ago, and only for a few months. I enjoyed the research, but I find that investigating interpersonal relationships and people was more fulfilling. Which is why I try not to take cases that want me to help take down someone’s competitor. Unless it’s a whistleblower type, then it would be my number one priority.”

“How honorable,” he joked.

“Shut up, Darth Vader,” you laughed, then without thinking, tip-toed to place a peck on the cool metal. “Stay safe, Jay.”

He didn’t reply immediately, and the only thing you could hear was his breathing. The silence made you anxious. Perhaps you shouldn’t have done that?

“Good night, Sunny,” he finally said, and then left through the balcony.

***

It was 6 in the morning on the eleventh day you were staying at Jason’s house when he returned from his night out. His shoulders and neck ached, and he didn’t know whether he wanted to eat or sleep. But the thought of getting under the covers with you by his side helped him with his decision.

He climbed down the fire escape and jumped onto his balcony, avoiding the new potted plants you had gotten him just a few days ago. He slid open the door and started to take off his boots at the same time before pausing at the sight of his dining table.

You were asleep with your head rested on your crossed arms on the table, papers scattered everywhere. He made you promise that night before he left that you would sleep early and take it easy with your work, but since the published article and the following public statement from Thorne, you heard back from your client to go harder.

He took off his helmet and threw it on the sofa. Approaching you quietly, he tip-toed to the dining table and smiled softly. He contemplated carrying you to the room, but he knew he couldn’t pick you up without waking you up.

“Hey there, sleepy head,” he softly whispered and put a hand on your back. You stirred awake.

“Jason?” you mumbled, lifting your head up and blinking. “What time is it?”

“Just after six,” he answered. “Go to bed. Come on. I’ll join you in a sec, too.”

You nodded and yawned, then stumbled to the room. Jason held back a chuckle when he saw you sprawled on top of the sheets.

He washed up and looked at his own reflection in the foggy mirror. He frowned at the hideous scars on his body. Mostly old, some new ones. A bruise was forming across his left rib where he got punched the day before. He quickly put on his shirt, trying his best to hide his ugly body from you.

***

Your neck was stiff when you turned to your side and saw Jason sleeping soundly next to you. He was on his back, his head turned away to the other side. You watched as his chest rose and fell with every breath. You smiled to yourself when you remembered he had woken you up and made you sleep in bed. You needed to move out soon. You felt bad for taking up his space.

As you were watching him, you noticed out of the corner of your eye that his shirt rode up slightly, revealing his tummy that you knew were hard to the touch. You frowned at the faint scars that littered his skin. You had always liked that about him. Scars on a man was so badass, and you knew Jason was very very skilled at fighting. Those scars showed experience in hand to hand combat with multiple weapons and tools, something you respected.

Your eyes trailed down to his sage green shorts. It wasn’t your fault, you were just following his happy trail in that direction. Your eyes widen and you blushed at what you were seeing. Was… was he hard? No. Not fully. But still, you could see the loose fabric of his shorts stretch out and form the silhouette of his bulge. Your heartbeat quicken and you felt a familiar warmth at the base of your stomach.

Men often got hard when they slept, and contrary to popular belief, it sometimes did not have anything to do with spicy dreams. As their body phased into the rest and digest state, their heartbeat slows, their breathing deepens, and well, they get erections. So now you found yourself breathing hard through your nose at the sight of Jason’s chub, his semi-boner, his leaning tower of-

You closed your eyes.

You had a crush on Jason before, yes, but that was before your sexual awakening. You never had dirty fantasies of him. Just holding hands and kissing in the cinema. And when you were hanging out with him, perhaps you had forced those thoughts away since you were with Dick and would have felt bad for thinking of his brother that way.

But now there was nothing stopping your thoughts from running wild. You opened your eyes again, but looked upwards instead, to his neck stretched out and bare to you. Subconsciously, you licked your lips at the sight of his jugulars, the curvature of his well-developed SCM muscle that made you want to litter little love bites on-

You got ahead of yourself for the first time regarding Jason. And now that you have, you knew there was no way your overactive imagination was going to calm down everytime you looked at him.

You spent the next couple of hours outside on the sofa with your legs up and stretched, switching back and forth between reading a dirty novel to scrolling on your phone. Around 4 in the afternoon, Jason woke up and took a seat next to you with his own book and phone. You curled your legs to make room for him to sit, which he did, but then he took your calves and pulled your legs to rest on his thighs.

You tried hard to read the paragraph you were on. ‘His chocolate brown eyes burned into hers as she watched him crawl between her legs-’

Suddenly you felt the skin of your lower legs burn as Jason rested his forearms on them to read his book. You peeked at him from above your novel and saw his messy bed hair and frown and oh, God he was looking at you.

“What’re you reading?” you quickly blurted to cover up the fact that you were staring at him.

“Middle Eastern history,” he replied, “You?”

Oh, no. You hadn’t thought this far. “Oh. Just a novel.” You hid your face behind your book again.

You felt Jason shift closer to you. “Ooh, a romance novel?”

“Yes.”

He was leaning nearer to read the synopsis at the back. You quickly closed the book and glared at him.

“What’s wrong?” he chuckled, “I just wanted to see what it was about.”

“You wouldn’t like it anyway,” you crossed your arms.

“Or, you don’t want me to know you’re reading smut,” he grinned.

“Am not!” you huffed, putting your knees up in a fetal position, but with your back leaning against the sofa arm.

“I think I saw the word sexy and breathless there,” he teased, reaching out to grab the book from you.

In panic, you threw the book across the room. Jason’s eyes widened in shock at where the book landed. Then he looked at you. And then he burst out laughing.

“So it was smut!” he guffawed.

“Shut up!” you yelled.

He rested his chin on top of your knees and watched you. “Aww, you’re blushing!” he teased again, “No, no, don’t cover up your face, you’re cute when you blush!”

That made you blush even harder. You peeked at him through your fingers and saw that he was still resting his head on your knees with a massive grin on his face. “Don’t call me cute!”

His grin turned into a soft smile. “But it’s true.”

Now you felt like it was your eyes that were being burned into by Jason’s blue ones. His stare had always been so intense, even back when you were teens.

The both of you suddenly were staring at each other for what felt like eons. Suddenly you felt awkward, and you broke eye contact.

“Anyway,” you looked away and got up to a proper sitting position, causing Jason to resume his as well, “What’s for dinner? Wanna go out? I feel like going out.”

You couldn’t bear to be in close proximity with him any longer. You felt like you were going to explode into flames.

“Oh, finally leaving the rabbit hole of old corruption cases, are you?” he retorted.

“You can’t blame me, Jay,” you pouted, “Didn’t you read what they said! It was so infuriating. I would have preferred if they came up with a lie instead.”

After sending your client the photos of Thorne’s accountant meeting up with Oswald Cobblepot, the article made the front page of Gotham Gazette, the author under a pseudonym. The relationship between a well known criminal and the mayoral candidate’s accountant was reported along with the photo you took. There was an uproar on social media and a press conference. Two days after that, another report.

Thorne basically didn’t bother to cover anything up but denied it with a smirk on his face, ridiculing the journalist. Whoever wrote that he had said, has been skulking old internet forums full of conspiracy theorists- and probably has seen one too many YouTube videos on Photoshop. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were a Flat Earther. However, I must express my disappointment in Gotham Gazette. I thought they were a proper news source and not a tabloid magazine.

Along with his smile, charm, and wit, his statement won over everyone again. The next day you received another text promising even more money if you get concrete evidence, bank and witness statements, audio or video recording, or official documents from legitimate sources incriminating Thorne.

“I get it,” Jason nodded, “And the offer for help is still up.”

Jason had suggested breaking into his home.

“I know. When the time comes, Jay. Not now. I still need to piece some things together. And his security is tight. We might need another method.”

“Just let me know when, and I’ll drop everything to help you,” he said seriously. Before you could protest, he continued. “All this Middle Eastern reading makes me want shawarma before going out tonight. I have a… business meeting.”

“Antiquities?” you asked.

“Yeah, some stone inscription.”

“Can I tag along?” you inquired excitedly. “I need to take a break from the cases and come back with a fresh perspective. Only if you’re okay with it. I know there’s probably some hierarchy thing going on.”

“Hierarchy thing?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, you’re the boss man aren’t you?” you poked him. “You can’t just bring some girl to a business meeting.”

“Because I am the boss man, I can do whatever I want,” he shifted towards you and booped your nose. “And you’re not just some girl.”

You looked away to hide the creeping blush again. What was wrong with you?

“Anyway, sure you can tag along.”

“Yay!” you got up and grinned. “Let me find something to wear.”

You dug through your box of clothes and found black tights, a form fitting black jersey jacket and a black mask that covered your mouth. This was what you usually wore when you had to sneak around.

“Uh,” Jason scratched his head, “No. Wait, turn around.”

You obliged.

“Yeah, no,” he stated, “That material is too thin. Do you have a kevlar vest or something?”

You frowned and went to dig up your old kevlar vest from another box.

“Perfect!” he clapped, “No, hold on. Here.”

He forced you into his oversized black hoodie over the bulky vest. “Now it’s perfect.”

“Jason, I look so chonky!” you complained. “Why can’t I be cool and stylish like you?”

“Because my outfit is already bullet-proof,” he said smugly, “You need to be protected just in case. Now stop pouting and wait here while I change.”

After the both of you got ready, he took you down to another alley into a garage he bought and revealed his 1969 Chevrolet Impala.

“We’re not taking your bike?” you asked, slightly disappointed. You sat in the passenger seat and heard him turn on the engine, the loud rev making you jump.

“We have precious cargo,” he explained.

“Oh, right! The slab,” you facepalmed.

“That, too,” he smirked, “But I was talking about you.”

***

You noticed that Jason changed his body language when he was in Red Hood mode. He stood up straight with his head held high, asserting dominance in the way he walked and moved. You would be lying if you didn’t think it was hot.

“As promised,” the tall and slender man with olive skin and dark facial hair said with his heavy accent. “6th century Byzantine inscription.”

He opened a heavy duty black metal briefcase that showed a gray stone slab with carvings on its surface. You were next to Red Hood, who took a closer look and nodded at you to come closer.

Upon better observation, your eyes widen. No… It could not be.

“Is your consultant satisfied?” the man asked.

Red Hood had introduced you as his consultant in Middle Eastern antiquities for a second opinion. You nodded at him curtly.

“Yes, she is satisfied. As am I,” his distorted voice agreed, “Here is four hundred thousand. As promised. You did well, Malik.”

“Thank you, sir,” he nodded, taking the duffel bag of cash that Red Hood had handed to him.

The both of you exited the dark building where Malik was running his business next to a dodgy law firm and got into the car.

“Jason!” you immediately squealed as he turned the engine on. “How much are you selling that for to the auctioneer?”

“A Byzantine slab would go for eight hundred, probably,” he shrugged.

“Jason, that’s not a Byzantine slab! That’s the ancient Sabaean alabaster stone inscription from the third century. Its last known location was at an auction in Paris, but it originates from The Awwam Temple in Yemen-”

You didn’t finish your sentence because you had noticed Jason’s body language. He hadn’t reacted to you at all. “You knew what it was.”

“Of course I did,” he said. And even though his whole head was covered, you knew he had that smug smirk on his face.

“And you let Malik think it was Byzantine,” you stated, “Because, of course. If he had an inkling of what it was, the price would have went up.”

“You knew what it was too, and you let Malik believe it,” he shrugged, “Proud of you, Sunny, my little con artist.”

Jokingly, he patted you on the thigh to commend you. It was only a few seconds, yet your heart had started racing.

“Who is this auctioneer? Does he know what he’s getting?” you quickly tried to distract yourself.

“Harry Willowman,” Jason replied, “He thinks he is getting a sixth century Byzantine slab, and he is going to try to get away with buying it for less than what it’s worth.”

“Willowman,” you repeated to yourself.

“You know him?” Jason made a right turn into a large estate.

“I’ve dealt with him a few times in the past, but it was a while back. I don’t think he would remember me.”

“Would it be bad if he did?” he inquired, driving the car to a stop in front of the large mansion.

“We’ll just have to see.”

It was weird, going up to a mansion and ringing the doorbell, as if it wasn’t three in the morning, as if you weren’t wearing a kevlar vest underneath the atrociously large hoodie, and as if you weren’t accompanied by the six foot something vigilante wearing a red motorcycle helmet.

You were greeted by the butler, because of course these people had butlers, and the interior really did remind you of Wayne Manor in its classical finishing, but this place had many more things.

From vases and pots, to paintings and tapestry, to old cabinets and random statues of forgotten Gods and Goddesses, the hallway into Willoman’s office itself already looked like a museum. The butler, an old man about sixty years of age, led you up the marble staircase to the second floor and knocked at the first door, the largest.

“Come in,” said the muffled voice behind it.

Red Hood entered first, and you followed behind him.

“Red Hood,” Harry Willowman acknowledged, “And you brought company.”

Harry Willowman was an Englishman in his mid-forties, and was wearing a beige waffle sweater and khaki slacks. His salt and pepper hair was styled back, and he was as handsome as you remembered.

“This is my associate. She is my consultant during exchanges to make sure items are what they say they are.”

Harry leaned forward from his leather chair to get a closer look at you and frowned. “Have we met before?”

“No time for introductions. Here’s your slab.”

Red Hood set the case on Harry’s heavy wooden desk. Harry proceeded to click the locks open. “Ah, my Byzantine-”

You noticed the way his eyes sparkled just for a moment when he saw what was inside.

“Ahem,” he cleared his throat, “This is a beautiful Byzantine specimen. I shall offer you eight hundred for it, like we promised.”

“Ah, but you see, Mr Willowman,” Red Hood protested politely, “We agreed eight hundred for a Byzantine inscription.”

“And you brought me a Byzantine inscription,” Harry acted confused.

Red Hood turned to you and nodded. You knew what he meant.

“Red Hood will take no less than two million dollars for the third century Sabaean alabaster stone inscription,” you said curtly.

Harry raised an eyebrow at you, and proceeded to laugh. “My dear, you don’t think this is the inscription from Awam Temple? The script here is clearly Koine.”

“I am not your dear,” you snapped, “And Koine is a Hellenistic script. As you can see here, it is clearly Middle Persian, or more specifically Sabaean. Some Parthian scripture has Hellenistic influence, but Sabaic specifically, since it is derived from ancient Aramaic, utilizes mater lectionis- a common variable in Semitic languages. Not Hellenistic.”

Harry stared at you in wonder, but then his eyes narrowed, and a smirk appeared on his lips. “I couldn’t recognise you with that ridiculous outfit you have on, Jade. Whatever happened to the tight leather?”

You clenched your jaw. “Two. Million.”

“Downings,” Harry called to his butler, “Fetch our friends here four of those bags, will you? Turns out one of them is an old associate.”

The room was suddenly tense. You could almost feel Red Hood next to you, coiled up and ready to spring.

“Jade The Judge,” Harry recited again, “What a surprise. How did you get her out of her little hiding hole, Red?”

“I don’t make comments about her outfit,” Red Hood snarkily replied.

Harry laughed. “No, Red, you don’t get it. You didn’t see Jade when she was in her prime. What was it that people used to say? When Jade The Judge walks, darkness follows. People used to be terrified of her. But I was completely infatuated. She left as swiftly as she arrived. But we used to have some fun didn’t we, Jade?”

You felt an icy cold shiver run down your spine in disgust. It was before Dick, when you were still mourning Jason.

You noticed Red Hood’s fists clench.

Before anyone could say anything, the butler arrived with four briefcases, struggling to juggle them in his arms.

“You’ll find that every dollar is accounted for,” Harry explained, the mischievous twinkle in his eye still ever present. “Because I know you will have my head if any small amount is missing.”

You picked up two briefcases, and Red Hood picked up the other two. Without saying any goodbyes, the both of you turned and left the room, but not without hearing Harry’s voice in the distance calling out to you. “I’m looking forward to more leather tights, Jade!”

The ride back home was silent. Jason drove into the garage and parked, taking off his helmet. The both of you walked to Jason’s apartment, and upon entering, you took off your mask, the hoodie, and the uncomfortable vest.

Before anything else was said, you quickly blurted out. “We did.”

Jason turned to you with his eyebrows raised. “Hmm?”

“Harry and I. We slept together. A few times. It was a long time ago,” you shuffled your feet. For some reason, you felt like you were a deer caught in the headlights of a car. You didn’t know why you were confessing this to Jason, and you didn’t know why you felt such shame doing so.

“I wasn’t going to ask,” he came up to you and smiled softly.

“I know, but you were thinking it.” Tears were brimming. “It was before Dick, when I was mourning you still. I was in a very dark place, and I was reckless for the sake of being reckless.”

Jason then frowned. “Does he know your real identity?”

“Oh, God, no!” you shook your head furiously, “I had my mask on, or it would have been in the dark.”

“Why are you telling me this?” he whispered.

“I don’t know,” you looked down at your feet. “I figured I might as well get it out of the way.”

“Well, thank you for telling me,” he replied. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you forced a smile. “Go shower first. I need a drink.”

You downed a shot of vodka and took a long, deep breath. After a while, you heard the shower turn off in the room. You head to the shower.

You opened the door to Jason’s room and was greeted with him shirtless with only his sweatpants on. He was drying his hair with his towel, but droplets of water fell onto his skin, running down his body. You gulped and blushed before saying “Oh my God! I’m so sorry!”

Jason’s eyes widen when he realised you were there. “Sunny! No! I’m sorry. Fuck! Let me put on a shirt real quick.”

He rushed to his closet and put on his shirt, but not before you caught a glimpse of his toned back muscles flexing with movement. Fuck.

“I’m really fucking sorry,” Jason said.

“What? Jason, no. I’m the one who intruded. I’m sorry, I know you’re shy,” you exasperatedly tried to calm him down. But Jason looked like he was in pain.

“No. I know how fucking disgusting my body is. You weren’t meant to see it. Sorry.”

You were shocked into silence. He was standing in front of you, but his head turned away.

“Jason,” you gently approached him, “Who told you that?”

“No one,” he denied, “But I know how I look, and I don’t want you to have to see that shit.”

“Oh, Jason,” you sighed. “I don’t find you disgusting at all.”

“You don’t have to be nice,” he grit, “I saw you looking.”

Suddenly, you felt the familiar heat creep up to your cheeks. “I- uh, I. I was looking. Yes. I was. But not because I think you’re disgusting. I was- uh. I was… admiring…you…”

“What?” he frowned.

“Look,” you gathered your courage and pierced his eyes with yours. “I’ve seen your scars, yes. And the way I see it, your scars means you are a skilled fighter. All those lessons learned. All that experience. I wish I had your skills. But I just have this stupid shadow. So I respect it. I respect your scars, and your body, and you.”

Jason was still quiet. You could almost see the gears in his head turning as he contemplated on your words.

“And,” you decided to come out with it. “I think. That. Your body. Is. Superhotorwhatever.”

Now you were blushing furiously, but was still watching Jason’s expressions. His frown subsided, and then the corner of his lips twisted upwards in a smirk. “You think I’m hot?”

“Ugh, I should not have said that,” you groaned and turned to walk away.

“No, no, tell me more about how you like my body,” Jason laughed.

“Stop!” you whined, “I’m going to shower.”

“Wait,” he stopped you in your tracks. “Thank you. Really. I wouldn’t have believed you if you hadn’t been blushing.”

“Go away!” you ran to the bathroom and closed the door on Jason chuckling at you.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, processing the day, the night, and the feelings that you felt since the day before. You groaned to yourself when you hit the realization.

You had a crush on your best friend. Again.

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watchingblsnowandforever · 6 months ago

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Hello!!!

Welcome back! =D

Part 2

Warning: long, long post (also a part 2 but I think y'all are used to it by now-) 😊😅

MattMick!! Also, Beer looking between them like that and Q and Toey peeking from behind cracked me up hehe

Also, does that mean Beer is single? Wait, maybe he's aroace. That'd be really cool.

I did see some hints of a throuple of him and MattMick, but I'm happy with either option.

SO CUTE 🥺🫶🏼

Poor QToey 😭

Their romantic moment got rained on so hard-

Exhibit: Here you can see three males from the species Homo sexuals. Two of them are already mated, and the third is in the courting process. We think the other male is interested too.

Oh- But I thought- oh, this makes sense actually. So the others know. I mean not really surprising when you think about it, to be honest.

With his unprecedented levels of obliviousness? Yeah, no, I get where you're coming from, Chain.

That's your biggest concern about getting a penguin?? 😭😭

Why does Peem look like the exasperated mom friend of the group 😭

After all the tiny crumbs of the past *checks notes* 8262 eps, this is a lot of progress.

HANDS. (I will never stop screaming about hands.)

Cuteee

Peem, babe, he hardly ever goes to class anyways. He's too busy following you around like a puppy.

Me, who holds handholding above everything else (yes, even sex): *DEEP BREATHS THROUGH THE NOSE* I'm fine. *SMOKE COMING OUT OF EARS* Totally fine.

Nothing to say, just a really good shot. (Also, Phuwin's exasperated smile seemed too real and then I learned Pond improvised that scene and yeah, that explains it)

ChainPun: only two people with matching pillow cases

QToey: missing (me?) [Sorry I couldn't resist 😭]

TanFang: peacefully asleep

PhumPeem: chronic insomnia, aggravated by Tan's snores

Matt: cuddling Mick

Beer: dreaming of him and his friends and their boyfriends all graduating with good grades

ChainPun. <33

Let me wrap this moment in my memory forever. (I tried to adjust the lighting a bit but it didn't really work out 😭)

AJSSHUJKJ!!!!! THEY GIVE ME TWO MAKE OUT SESSIONS WITHIN THE SPAN OF LIKE 4 MINUTES AND EXPECT ME TO BE SANE ABOUT IT???

No.

Look, we all expected this. I even said on record I wouldn't survive. And all that mental Muay Thai still didn't prepare me for this.

Till now, I have watched 60 BLs, give or take, so I've seen a lot of NC scenes. Compared to some of them, this is very PG-13, but this one really got me, like very few sex scenes have managed to. The intimacy, the palpable love, want. It all came together so beautifully in this scene.

Them saying 'I love you' during sex is canon! Yay! I knew it in my guts (wrote a fic about it) but feels so good to be right in canon hehe.

"I love you too, now kiss me again."

HANDS!!!! (It's canon now, they hold hands during sex, and so I can freely write a fic about it. Not that something not being canon ever stopped me but yeah.)

Fang: my brother is in safe hands. 😌

Also, love how Peem didn't hesitate to at the chance to kick both brothers and make it a streak 😭👍🏼

Honestly though, this scene shows that Peem is going to go to very long lengths to make sure Phum is okay, even kicking his own brother (which assures me that Peem maybe wouldn't hesitate that much to sucker punch their dad either, which is important information to have for possible future fics.)

How can one man be so goddamn cute??

The whimpering puppy noises- 😭

Cakes are so hard to bake, for real. This one is so cute though 😭😭🫶🏼

Puppy Phum- honestly is anyone surprised? No? Thought so.

This smile-

It holds so much happiness and the brunt of so many years of trauma. It's so beautiful. I'm probably gonna rewatch the heck out of this scene.

I end Part 1 here, Part 2 will be out (hopefully) soon!

If you got this far, thank you so much for reading! 😊 (All mistakes are mine, but in my defense, I literally fell asleep while writing this.)

Here, have a pie (of your favourite flavour) 🥧

#we are #we are series #we are the series #phumpeem #tanfang #qtoey #chainpun #thai bl #watching bls: we are #let's talk bl

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trutrustories · 1 year ago

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STUDY IN LOKI ROMANCE

Part 2: Breaking Brad

Since we're only a few days away from the last episode, I decided to COUNT DOWN everything we´ve got so far ( that can be interpreted very easily as romantic ) and discuss what the actual fuck is going on with second season. Because even though I shipped lokius practically from S1E2, I absolutely did NOT expect this kind of development. (Not that I´m complaining)

Warning: This is gonna be LONG post, lots of screenshots, lots of SPOILERS, lot of "oh-my-god-they-so-cute" language, and little bit of meta.

I originally thought that this post would be everything at once, but since I have just too many screenshots this time around, I´ll have to split it. so every post will be one episode. Color coding means:

IIIIIIIIII = anything, that coud potentialy be just acting choice.

IIIIIIIIII = everything else (tzn.: whatever was written, and/or carefully prepared by filmmakers. )

side note: I already wrote, about how amazing it is, that Mobius is unable to fight but fights anyway and how beautifuly, and ridiculously brave he is HERE. But this is about Loki/Mobius interactions, so I´ll try my best not to talk about THAT. (Even when I´m really happy, that s2 continues with this formula and Mobius is still his completely defenseless while aggressively brave self. I love him, btw.)

EPISODE 1 HERE

Okay, Check-list, ep 2:

11) matching suits part 1 THIS ⬇️ costume department did a great job and they look badass together also, they´re walking very close to each other.

12) Loki defending /saving Mobius from Brad (with magic!) also, Mobius, dear, (my beloved) you were really going for it! Always so ready to fight! I can´t xD

Loki "don´t u dare hurt him" Laufeyson, look at his face!

13) Mobius and Loki struggling to assemble IKEA furniture- sorry Tapmad together

14) " And he knows..." I mean yeah, sure. keep remind us, that Mobius knows everything about Loki, and saw him at his worst, so we can appreciate even more the fact, that Mobius likes him and cares for him so damn much 💚🤎

15) Loki finding Mobius´s joke amusing Mobius: cracking joke right after Loki´s threatening speech:

Loki:

16) Loki being very concerned for Mobius after his outburst, saying that It´s okay, and then suggests having pie because he knows Mobius so well and is avare of the fact, that his man is stress eater I´m gonna cry they´re too pure for MCU someone adopt them

17) Bickering like married couple (part 2) 18) The whole freaking pie scene!

Just them, sharing calm, intimate moment together

Mobius opening up to Loki, and admiting he "lost it"

Loki trying to make him feel better and absolutely KILLING IT! btw, I know, that some people think, this scene doesn´t make sense, because Loki didn´t "lost it" during avengers, but was controlled by mind stone, etc.... well I think that it actually doesn´t matter. Guess what else doesn´t make sense? For example the fact, that they already talked about Loki fighting Avengers ( during their first meeting.) Loki is aware, that Mobius saw New York invasion at least twice now, and he´s telling him anyway. I would say, that point here is Loki trying to lift Mobius´s spirit, entertain him, make him smile. Why else woud he start his monolog by "remember, when...?" And I think, that this is huge, actually: Loki, using his bad memory, defeat, his humulianting experience to make Mobius feel better. So not only, that we see, he no longer care about being rurel but we see him making lightly fun of it FOR MOBIUS´S SAKE! He has different priorities now... our immortal god is a grown man now... it´s just so fucking beautiful... 🥺

Also Mobius saying to Loki: "come on, you´re the God of Mischief" Like it´s a best thing in the world, and Loki gives him THIS LOOK! (I mean that head tilt would be considered "acting" category, but I´m already making concessions by including all these things under one number :D

19) Loki and Mobius: mischievous duo

Mobius trusts him so completly!

They both such a drama queens!

And they works so well together!

like... seriously, Brad didn´t see this coming, AT ALL! xD

also... Loki complimenting his plan?!

20) "They say opposites attract. NO." Mobius´s wishfull thinking xD (But hey, it IS true. Opposites attracts. And works greatly together. That´s the only reason, why, for example, trope like grumpy one/sunshine one is so popular!) I can´t! just look at his face 🤣 Oh honey! just calm down

He is sooooooo NOT chill here xD bless him

21) Loki, not following Sylvie, but actually staying with Mobius and comforting him. AGAIN. (which is an absolutely glaring contrast compared to episode 2 in first season!)

#loki spoilers #lokius #loki season 2 #loki and mobius #MCU #mobius m mobius #mobius #owen wilson #tom hiddleston

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reidingrainbow · 8 months ago

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momentarily breaking out of my absence to participate in this month's cm fic challenge by @imagining-in-the-margins :3

i've had a wip cooking for over a year and even though it's still not done, i'd like to at least post this first chapter for the prompt!

Night Changes

[ Rated M for minors keep out ] 4038 words | moreid, mostly case-fic?

CW: trans male pregnancy (specifically spencer), nausea/emeto warning, canon typical violence, mentions of homophobia

summary: morgan and reid find out they're expecting in a... less than ideal fashion

Friday nights are always a treasured time for Spencer and Derek. After a long week at work, all they can think of is coming home to one of their apartments and falling into each other. It usually entails a delivery from their favorite local restaurant, a cheesy television show, and Clooney sitting at their feet waiting for them to drop something for him or curled up on the sofa with them.

But other nights, nights like this, they need a little extra time to themselves. Nights like this involve Clooney being nowhere to be seen, some movie they’ve seen a thousand times, and maybe a glass of wine.

The only sounds to be heard in the room are the low drone of the television and Spencer’s soft gasps, his little hitches of breath and whimpers as Derek’s lips lave over his neck and collarbone. Derek eases the thinner man out of his lap and lays him back on the couch, his lips slowly traveling down his chest and abdomen and stopping to nip at his sharp hipbones. Spencer whines and attempts to buck his hips up into the touch, but Derek effortlessly keeps him in place with one hand. The other busies itself with unbuttoning Spencer’s pants, fingers moving deftly while he captures Spencer’s lips in a passionate kiss. Derek’s fingers slip inside Spencer’s boxers, inching closer to his throbbing–

On the kitchen counter, their phones chime in unison.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Spencer mutters, forehead still pressed to Derek’s. Above him, his boyfriend chuckles and presses an apologetic kiss to his lips before crawling off of him. They redress themselves and make an honest attempt to not look like they’d just been called into work in the middle of what was almost sex, but in the back of Spencer’s mind he knows they’ll probably figure it out anyway. He shimmies his binder back on and tucks in his shirt. While he buttons his pants back up, he notices that they definitely feel more snug than they did the week prior. He thought he’d been imagining things when he began to struggle closing his pants over the past few weeks, but now his growing waistline is undeniable. He sucks in his stomach to button the closure and lets out the breath as a sigh. “I think I need to lay off the take-out,” he says to Derek, following him into the kitchen to find his cardigan.

“Oh yeah?” Derek says, already at the door putting his shoes back on. “You and me both, pretty boy. I’m not sure how much longer we can eat like we’re in our twenties.” He pats his stomach for emphasis, as if he doesn’t have the world’s most glorious set of abs hidden beneath his silk button down.

Spencer huffs a laugh and buttons his cardigan back up. “Maybe I should cook more.” He pads over to the door in his mismatched socks, where Derek is holding his bag for him.

Derek smirks. “So we can live off of ramen? I’ll take my chances with Thai every night.”

“I can cook more than ramen,” Spencer insists. “Rossi taught us how to make his spaghetti and you even said yourself I did a really good job.” With his shoes on, he takes his bag from Derek’s waiting hands and follows him out to the driveway.

“I thought we were gonna stop eating like college students! Can you make anything that isn’t pasta based?” Derek says as they climb into his car. Spencer scrunches his face up and shakes his head as they buckle in. “That’s alright, next time we go visit my family my mom might be able to teach us a little somethin’.”

Spencer smiles. “Sounds like a plan.”

Spencer and Derek step out of the elevator for the second time that day, only two hours after leaving for the night (precisely two hours, thirteen minutes, and forty-five seconds, but who’s counting) and enter the bullpen to meet the rest of the team, where JJ is lamenting about her similarly ruined evening. Derek makes a quip about “dusting off the cobwebs” that earns him a swat on the arm from Penelope, and soon enough the team is called up to begin the briefing.

Any lingering thoughts of the evening’s earlier activities are thoroughly squashed within the first 60 seconds of the round table meeting. Spencer blames the crime scene photos, the images of the deep, cross-hatched cuts on the victims’ backs, for the wave of nausea that washes over him and sends a shiver down his spine. He flips through the rest of the file in hopes that averting his eyes will untangle the knot in his stomach. It doesn’t. He breathes deeply through his nose, trying his best to stay focused on the details of the case.

He drops a hand below the table and lets it flap at his side; he needs to stim through the feeling but the thought of calling attention to himself is only serving to make the sickly feeling even worse. He manages to make it through the meeting without incident and no one seems to have noticed anything was off about him. Some part of him, distantly, wonders if anyone would check on him if they did notice. He squashes the thought before it can fester.

The meeting can’t be over soon enough. As soon as Spencer stands, his body suddenly feels infinitely heavier. Exhaustion has crept up on him and taken him by surprise. He brews another cup of coffee before they take off in hopes of making himself feel slightly less like a zombie.

The coffee does, in Spencer’s professional opinion, absolutely fuckall. He finds himself drifting off during their second debriefing, trying in vain to fight off sleep but his eyelids feeling heavy regardless. Aaron gives them their assignments for when they land and suggests that Spencer lie down. Spencer opens his mouth to insist he’s fine, he can just make more coffee, but before he can manage any words he’s overtaken by a yawn. Defeated, he retreats to the couch at the back of the plane. He refuses to lie down, insisting he’s not that tired. When he closes his eyes and leans back, it’s just to rest them for a moment.

“-ise and shine, pretty boy, we gotta get movin’,” comes a voice above him, Derek’s. Spencer wakes slowly, scowling up at Derek while he comes back to himself. He’s fully lying down, not sitting up like he remembers, and there’s a pillow under his head and a blanket draped over him. “Come on Reid, don’t make me carry you.”

Spencer sits up, finding he doesn’t actually feel better after his nap; he feels worse, actually, like finally sleeping made him realize how much he still needed to sleep. He reaches a hand up to Derek and he takes it, pulling him off of the couch and onto his feet. He ruffles Spencer’s hair, smiling fondly when he sleepily attempts to bat his hand away. “Let’s get to the hotel, you can snore in my ear all night.”

Derek starts moving and Spencer quickly grabs his bag and follows after him. “I do not snore,” he insists. He hears the older man chuckle in front of him. “I don’t!” It only serves to make Derek laugh harder; he definitely doesn’t mind the teasing, then, if it means he can hear his love’s laugh.

“You do, but only when you’re exhausted,” Derek says. “What’s got you so tired?”

Spencer shrugs and follows him to pick up their luggage. “I’m really not sure, it just snuck up on me. I was fine all day, even earlier tonight,” Spencer flushes a little, despite his exhaustion. “I even had coffee and still almost conked out during the meeting.” Derek hums in acknowledgement, patting him on the back and letting his touch linger, only for a moment, before he turns to head to the waiting SUVs. Spencer sighs, longing for the warmth of his hands on him again, before following after him. The faster they reach the hotel, the sooner he can rest in his arms.

Spencer wakes up the next morning still feeling absolutely wiped of energy, despite spending the night snoring in Derek’s ear as predicted. He trudges through the morning, only just alert enough to be coherent but nowhere near his usual self. The trip to the local bar is helpful, at least, and provides some useful insight into the town and its residents.

When Spencer and Derek arrive at the police station, Spencer briefly greets the sheriff before hightailing it to the coffeemaker. This time the coffee does help, if only a little, and soon Spencer can feel the fog lifting from his brain. Within no time he’s back to his usual self, putting his 20,000 words per minute to use going through all of the case files and relaying any useful information back to the team. They hit a stride in their investigation, working for a few hours and making good progress.

Spencer feels his stomach lurch, feels a shiver run up his spine, and he blanches. Oh God, he thinks, please not here, not now. These waves of nausea have come and gone sporadically for the past few weeks, but this is the closest he’s felt to actually throwing up. The thought of it makes him anxious, which in turn makes him more nauseous, which worsens the anxiety, effectively locking him into a hellish negative feedback loop.

He mentally cycles through everything he’s had to eat today to figure out what could possibly be disagreeing with him this strongly. He comes up empty, recalling only the two cups of coffee he had right there in the station.

(He wonders, then, if he should have taken up Derek’s offer and taken a few bites of the granola bar he’d had for breakfast. The train of thought is quickly derailed by his disgust at the thought of biting into someone else’s half eaten food, and it does nothing to quell his nausea.)

Whatever it was, it isn’t sitting well now. Spencer peels off his cardigan in an attempt to stop sweating, but to no avail. His stomach lurches again, dangerously, and he shoots up out of his seat. He barely mumbles out a “Need some air,” to the rest of the team before he bolts out of the police station. He distantly hears a familiar set of footsteps falling in behind him, but he doesn’t pay it any mind until he’s outside. He takes a deep breath of fresh air, one hand cradling his sensitive stomach and the other flapping nervously at his side.

“Everything alright, Spencer?” Derek asks, laying a hand on the small of Spencer’s back. Spencer isn’t facing him but he doesn’t need to to know those thick eyebrows are drawn up in concern, eyes soft in the way they always are when they’re on him. His hand is warm, large, easily spans over his lower back. He’s rubbing a gentle circle and oh- that feels good, Spencer hadn’t even noticed how much his back hurt.

Spencer swallows thickly and nods. “Yeah, I’m alright. Just felt a bit nauseous for a minute there, I didn’t want to puke in the bullpen and those bathrooms…” He wrinkles his nose in disgust. “ I’d rather take my chances out here.” He turns and gives Derek a small smile. Derek returns it with a grin of his own and Spencer wishes more than anything they weren’t on duty so he could lean over and kiss him.

“I told you, you should’ve had a bite of breakfast,” Derek says, his grin never fading. “You can’t run on coffee alone, pretty boy, you need actual food.”

Spencer rolls his eyes, laughing despite himself. He turns to fully face Derek, the other man’s hand sliding from his back to loosely hold his hip. “You wanna test that theory?”

“No, I just want you to eat something,” Derek teases. “Maybe your body is trying to tell you something.”

“Like what?”

“That you should stop being so hardheaded,” There’s no bite behind it, and Derek brings the hand on Spencer’s waist up to gently pat his cheek. Spencer instinctively leans into his gentle touch, only barely, before the door to the station slams open behind them. Derek stiffens and rips his hand off of Spencer like he’s been burned and Spencer himself takes an almost comically large step backwards, far enough that he slams into the railing behind him, and shoves his hands into his pockets. Officer Vicky, overenthusiastic and perky and so, so nosey, looks up at them expectantly from the doorway.

“Everythin’ alright out here, agents?” she asks, her voice clipped. Her eyes dart up and down their bodies quickly, trying to catch them out. This isn’t their first time in the bible belt and it won’t be the last; they know how to snap their masks back on quickly, instantly switching back to coworkers whose closeness falls well within plausible deniability.

“We’re fine, thank you,” Derek says, returning the officer’s plastered on smile with one of his own. “We’ll be back inside in a minute.” Over his shoulder, Spencer presses his lips into a line and gives a small nod.

Officer Vicky takes the hint (for once) and heads back inside. Derek and Spencer sigh in unison, then chuckle a little.

“You sure you’re alright, sweetness?” Derek asks, once more because he can’t help it.

“I’m fine, really, don’t worry about me. I’ll even try to eat lunch today,” Spencer replies. Seeming satisfied with that answer, Derek relaxes and they head back inside.

They take their seats at the table, Spencer’s being on the table, and dive back into the case files. “Alright, where were we?”

Spencer likes to pride himself on his excellent planning skills. He goes through every step of the operation, analyzes every possibility, tries to think of everything that could possibly go wrong.

He does not, however, consider the possibility of being shot in the neck tonight.

It’s funny, he thinks, how he always knows that someday, something horrible could happen to him on the job. It has, in fact, quite often. Being kidnapped and drugged, watching his girlfriend die in front of him, being infected with anthrax. These things happen; hazards of the job. And yet, every time something does happen to him, he’s blindsided by it.

He’s not thinking any of that, though. He’s not thinking much of anything as he crumples to the ground. Distantly, over a whistling kettle and the gunfire and the ringing in his ears, he hears Derek scream his name. Hands are on him, whose hands, he knows these hands. Before he can identify them, he’s propped up into a sitting position. Everything is blurring together – all the sounds, his vision is dark around the edges. Someone is holding his neck, Alex is there. She’s telling him to keep his eyes open, which is very unfair, because he’s never wanted to close them more in his life. She’s telling Ethan to stay with her… Ethan? That can’t be right, he could’ve sworn his name is Spencer. Who is Ethan? Spencer is cold… and tired…so tired. He closes his eyes.

When he opens them again, he’s staring right into the sun. No… it’s a light. He’s in an ambulance. The sirens… They remind him of the tea kettle noise he heard earlier.

“What?”

It’s Derek’s voice, coming from his left. Spencer’s hand reaches toward him before his eyes follow. “Do you hear it?” he slurs, his tongue feeling too heavy in his mouth to form the words. He’s dizzy, and everything is far too loud, and he’s about to close his eyes again when Derek grabs his hand and holds it tight. Spencer squeezes back, weakly, but it eases the concerned crease of Derek’s brow minutely.

“Spe-Reid.” Derek says, catching himself. Last names only while in the field. “Reid, you gotta stay with me, eyes on me-” The EMT says something that catches Derek’s attention, but he quickly redirects it back to Spencer. “That’s good, stay with me.”

Spencer closes his eyes.

When he opens them, he’s in a hospital bed surrounded by figurines and Alex and Penelope are there, making an honest attempt at pretending they haven’t been staring at him.

To say the rest of the night is a whirlwind would be an extreme disservice to the word “whirlwind.” Spencer doesn’t know the probability of being shot twice in one night by two different people, and he could almost definitely calculate it if he wasn’t so tired. He’s been up all night; between being stirred awake for check-ins every hour and the multiple attempted murders, he hasn’t had much of a chance to do more than doze off.

Penelope has stepped out of the room, stating that she needs water and the room still smells like gunpowder and she desperately needs to be where the gunpowder smell is not, leaving Spencer and Derek alone for the first time since that morning.

Spencer shifts over in the bed, motioning for Derek to come join him. The older man lowers the guardrail on his side of the bed and climbs in. Spencer immediately turns to face him, slotting his body up against Derek’s like they’ve done countless times. Derek’s strong arms wrap around him, one hand coming up to stroke Spencer’s hair while the other remains free for Spencer to hold, interlocking their fingers and resting their hands in the space between their chests. They don’t share words, as they often do when they cuddle, but instead opt to silently enjoy each other’s presence. Both men are worn out, exhaustion seeping into their bones, and this little moment between them is enough. The calm quiet, Derek’s warmth, the sound of his heartbeat… it’s enough to nearly allow Spencer to sleep properly.

“Knock knock,” comes a voice from the door, in time with the actual knocks on the glass door. Spencer’s doctor – his real doctor – is standing in the doorway, clipboard in her hand. “I’m so sorry to interrupt you guys, but I need to check in with you after that whole fiasco.”

Spencer reluctantly pulls away to allow Derek to slip out of the bed and give the doctor room to work. She works quickly, taking his blood pressure and checking his breathing, and as soon as she’s completed her examination she moves out of the way so Derek can take his seat on the bed with Spencer.

“Alright,” she says, thumbing through his chart. “Everything looks good, I’m glad you weren’t hurt.” She moves to leave but turns back to Spencer. “Did I have a chance to go over your bloodwork with you after the surgery?”

Spencer shakes his head and Derek glances between him and the doctor, thick eyebrows upturned with concern. “No, you didn’t go over it with me… are my levels abnormal?”

“There’s nothing urgently wrong, aside from your incredibly low iron. Try to get more iron into your diet, you’re in danger of becoming anemic – but that’s not what I wanted to bring up with you.” She switches her attention to Derek, where he’s perched on the end of the bed, looking more anxious by the second. “Are you his partner?” Derek nods, and she turns her attention back to Spencer.

“Doctor Reid, are you aware that you’re pregnant?”

A beat. Another beat. A beat, that’s actually Spencer’s heart coming to a complete stop, scientific improbabilities be damned. “I-” He’s having every possible thought at once, he’s sure of it. “The-” Derek whips his head to look at him, expression unreadable. Spencer’s face is surely cycling through expressions at random, like the five stages of grief in roulette. “I’m…” His heart is pounding in his ears, he’s never felt every emotion at once before and it’s all so much. “Baby?” is what his brain finally settles on as a response.

Spencer barely processes that he’s moving, slowly sitting up and reaching a hand towards the doctor. “May I see my chart?” He asks, his throat suddenly going dry. She nods and hands him the folder. He flips it open and Derek leans over to read along with him. He quickly gives up, however, because he can’t keep up with Spencer’s speed reading. Spencer’s finger moves across the page, his lips mouthing along with his reading. He soon finds what he’s looking for and freezes.

Pregnancy Test – Positive. 60-62 days [9 weeks]

Spencer blinks at the paper. Blinks again, like what he’s looking at will change. “Nine weeks?” He asks quietly. He’s not sure who exactly he’s talking to. Is he really so disconnected from himself, obsessed with his job, that he didn’t notice anything was off? For over two months?

The doctor nods, keeping her expression neutral in line with their reactions. Spencer hands the folder over to her and she slips it into the pocket at the end of the bed. “I’ll leave you two to discuss this privately. You should be ready for discharge soon, a nurse will come by later with some forms for you.” She leaves, and Spencer barely processes it. His mind had stopped moving the moment he was given the news.

Spencer is distantly aware of Derek reaching out to him, taking his hands in his own. They cling to each other like a lifeline because, in this moment, all they really have is each other. Spencer’s whole body feels numb, and he’s sure his face is reflecting it, but when he looks at Derek… he still can’t tell how he feels. He looks… scared. That look in his eye, a look of fear and uncertainty, it looks out of place on him.

Derek takes a shuddering breath. “What are we–” He’s cut off by his phone ringing, his work ringtone. He sighs, suddenly looking so, so tired, and reluctantly lets go of Spencer’s hands to check it. “It’s JJ… I don’t have to go, I can stay here with you. They’ll be okay without me.”

Spencer opens his mouth to reply and finds nothing comes out, no matter how hard he tries.

[It’s okay,] he signs. [Go, the team needs you.]

Spencer briefly wonders why, even now, he can’t say “please stay, I need you” just this once. He chooses not to examine it.

Derek sighs, looking down at his still ringing phone. “Alright, pretty boy. I’ll be back soon, I promise. We’ll talk about this tomorrow, after we’ve both had some good rest.” He stands up, leaning over to place a kiss on Spencer’s forehead, then his nose, then his lips. Spencer’s whole body visibly relaxes, and he presses his hand, middle and ring fingers touching his palm and his remaining fingers up, into Derek’s chest. “I love you too,” Derek murmurs against his lips. He pulls away, and Spencer watches his demeanor switch from that of his doting boyfriend back to the FBI agent.

Penelope returns right as Derek is leaving, and Spencer must do a much worse job at hiding the fact that he’s having a crisis, because she is immediately at his side asking him what’s wrong. To be fair, his inability to mask has caused countless uncomfortable situations in his life, but nothing prepared him for the sheer panic that fills his body while trying to come up with a believable lie to tell the only person who always manages to see through his excuses (who simultaneously cannot keep a secret for more than a few hours). Penelope must pick up on his shift in mood, however, because she stops questioning him and takes her seat next to the bed. Spencer crosses his arms over his stomach and curls in on himself, facing away from her.

Penelope watches Spencer, all furrowed brows and bitten fingernails and nervous energy, and sighs. She knows prying will just agitate him, but she’s getting stressed out just watching him stare into the middle distance and chew on his fingers, not unlike his mother. She’s not sure how to make him feel better, which she hates, because making people feel better is, like, her whole thing.

Maybe more jell-o will help.

#i named the fic based on the whole thing not just this chapter so the title might not make sense sorry #mentioningmargins #moreid #spencer reid #derek morgan #my writing #cm challenge #criminal minds fanfic #spencer read fanfic #derek morgan fanfic #moreid fanfic #mpreg #criminal minds mpreg

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