#but he promised only one kidnapping per month

[adventure-waffles]

Gege had to go to work

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru

TW: yandere, kidnapping, captive reader, noncon, somnophilia

follow up to this part one

gn reader

Yeah, he kidnaps you within the same day…

He knows it isn’t inherently right, but he can justify it! You see, if anyone else were to find out your technique, you’d be in a lot of trouble—and by trouble, he means certain death or worse.

You’re a paradox. If he’d reported his find to the elders, they’d surely have sent assassins, given how terrified they are of the unknown—and you’re worse than an unknown—you’re a threat to jujutsu’s very foundation. He wouldn’t be surprised if they’d make weapons out of your body until nothing was left of you—just think about it—a bullet made from your flesh would have the instant power to disintegrate a curse on the spot. Or worse, they’d keep you alive and locked up somewhere, feeding you only to drain you of a dozen blood bags per day—like a farm.

Yes, this was better for you—with no one knowing of your existence except him. He’s the only one who can keep you safe.

Of course, you think he’s crazy. And he doesn’t blame you. You were just abducted by a stranger in the streets who not only insists that you’re an anomaly but wears a blindfold and claims to be a wizard out to protect you from people who would harvest your blood. Yeah, he wouldn’t believe him either.

The whole situation is messy, but at least you’re alive.

He gives you your own room. Of course, he’s not out to make you uncomfortable. You have your own room, bed, and bathroom, which is where you spend most of your time.

He can’t blame you for that, either. He won’t force you to spend time with him even though he wants to. But he’s not entirely innocent either—watching you through the cameras in the ceiling. It’s funny, but even on tape, you’re crystal clear. It’s calming to watch. Everything else makes his eyes hurt, hence the blindfold—but even that is but a dull salve. You’re the cure.

You warm up to him after a month or so. You come out of your room. He can tell you’re looking for weak spots to escape from, but you won’t find any. He’s gotten better at reading you now—having busied himself learning the language of your body looking at you without your knowledge. He only feels slightly guilty about it.

He can’t stop thinking about touching you, though. It really doesn’t have to be much—he’s never really been much of a playboy, despite people’s assumptions. Women and men have never been all that appealing when what he sees is everything they’re trying to hide. Though he has tried it a few times, he usually just takes care of it on his own if he needs to.

He's needed to a lot in the past weeks. But he promises himself he won’t force you into anything. That wouldn’t be fair.

You start talking to him another month later—actual conversations aside from the usual swearing or claims to let you go. No, you begin asking questions about the jujutsu world. He can’t tell if it’s because you’re curious or seeking information that might aid in your escape or if it’s simply a ploy to lower his guard, but it’s clear you still think he’s delusional. Either way, he doesn’t mind humoring you. He even tries demonstrating limitless for you, holding different objects as well as himself midair—but you seem convinced he’s just some talented crook. You’ve seen more compelling magic acts before, you say. He laughs.

He'd show you something more convincing, but you can’t see cursed spirits even with special glasses as the curse imbued into the lenses disrupts the moment you put them on, so to you, it’s the same as wearing fakes. In a way, curses don’t exist in your world. He’s tested it out a few times—simple flyheads, just to see what happens, and wow… It’s actually kind of scary how they just crumble upon contact with you—no residuals or anything left to prove that they were ever even there.

The only way to prove it to you would be to let someone else get mangled in front of you. Of course, it would only look like a body getting warped beyond recognition by the air—but he’s sure at that point, you’d no longer be able to assign normal logic to it. Not that he’s going to do any of that. He doesn’t really need you to believe him after all. It wouldn’t change anything. In fact, he prefers you don’t know. The jujutsu world is an ugly one���he doesn’t mind sheltering you from it.

Another four months in, and you’ve gotten comfortable. Well, it’s been half a year, so it’s taken its time, but still, he’s happy to have gotten there. You’re at the point where you ask him for things unrestricted—hobby stuff like books and paints and groceries. 

You’d taken to baking and cooking rather early on, which was great as his kitchen was practically in pristine and unused condition. He can’t blame you for growing tired of his unhealthy food habits—microwave dinners for the most part, other times leftovers he brings home from restaurants, otherwise just candy and pastries. You’d refused to make him anything in the start, but you’d soon caved when you realized he could just as simply refuse to bring you the ingredients. You’re now the designated cook of the house. It’s cute, like having his own little housewife.

Your guard has also dropped. You no longer flinch away when he’s close. Not that he allows himself to touch you improperly—just a little—a few accidental rubs here and then, brushing along you in passing, blaming it on the blindfold even when he can hear your feet pad along the floors in the utter silent emptiness of his house. And other innocent things... laying his hand on your head when he reaches for a glass in the cupboard above you, telling you he wouldn’t want you to hit yourself—brushing your back with his chest and his crotch on your rear. It can’t hurt—it only barely touches and just for a few seconds.

It makes him feel like a filthy drug addict, though. Desperate for a fix, then only wanting more once it’s gone…

He’s been coming to your room to watch you sleep almost every night. You don’t know. You’d be more wary of him if you did. But no, you’re under the impression he’s just some poor, disillusioned man who’s otherwise harmless. You don’t know, and he aims to keep it that way.

It’s for your sake. Just the same as you don’t know curses exist, you needn’t know of the cursed thoughts simmering within his head either. So, he does it for you. To spare you.

That’s what he tells himself when watching you obliviously drink the crushed pills he’s been feeding you for the last many months.

He’d reached his breaking point much sooner than he thought—just after he swore against it, actually. Limiting himself only seemed to make him ever more in need of you. But it was to be expected—he’s never been too good at abiding by rules. He’s always felt above them—even those he sets upon himself.

He’s happy you’ve warmed up to him when you’re awake now, too, utterly unaware you’ve been more than accommodating in your sleep.

Of course, he feels bad! But what you don’t know won’t hurt you.

Besides... give or take a few more months, and you’re bound to invite him into your bed at some point. It’s only natural—humans require contact and will accept what’s available to them. He’s only early in taking what he knows you’d give him sooner or later anyway.

You have no way of knowing how long you sleep, no windows, no watch—no idea you sleep more than half a day every night—half of that time spent with him.

He’d only spooned you at first—his bare hands laid in reverence against your soft skin, reveling in your heat while cuddling into you. It had been nice, but ultimately not enough. He’d resorted to undressing after a while, lying there naked—but still, doing nothing but holding you—skin-to-skin. That, as well, had only been enough for a while—now keeping a hand on you while tugging himself in the other. It seems that every indulgence he allows himself only serves to make the need within grow deeper. You rivet his entire body ablaze like nothing else… and he has this undying feeling pounding in his chest and throughout his body, down to his throbbing dick, that being inside you is going to feel like nothing he's ever felt before.

And you're so cute down there—pretty on his fingers—welcoming. Kissing there makes his candy addiction go to waste. He’s convinced burying his face between your thighs is where he belongs. Right there, smothered in the warmth with your taste flooding his mouth. He could die happy. 

And fuck if it doesn’t look like you need his cock inside you once he pulls away—spit-slicked, swollen, and fluttering for him—crying to be filled and fucked. 

The little sounds you make as he enters you are the sweetest sounds he’s heard in his life—pretty little mews and sleepy moans as he fills you out until you’re neatly settled around his base and fuck—he’s already cumming, melting within the surrounding cloudy warmth. 

It doesn’t stop him from remaining hard. 

Dropping his weight atop of you, he smothers you like a duvet—bodies pressed perfectly against each other as he kisses every and any part of you he can reach, snapping his hips in short thrusts deep within—sucking your lip while sinking his fingers into the plume of your haunches, lapping up the spit from within your mouth like a well granting all his wishes.

He cleans you up after—wipes you down, and frets over the bruises left on you, hoping you won’t read too much into how sore you are. Leaving the crimescene just as it had been before, then kisses you good night.

♡ GOJO SATORU masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[chizoies]

STRAWHATS FAMILY AU

The Lore Drop:

Alright,in this alternative universe the whole gang is a family. Robin and Franky are married and they are the parents. Brook is Franky’s adoptive father. Jinbei is Robin’s biological father. Brook is African (Nigerian (Bantoid))American and he was never married. Franky is caucasian, his roots comes from Turkiye. Jinbei is Indian, he married Olvia, she is Brazilian. So Robin is half Indian half Brazilian.

Only Luffy and Chopper are Frobin’s biological children.

When Robin and Franky got married, they had realised that they are rich enough to set on a quest to help the children of need so they went to see the world. HEAR ME OUT it makes sense because um Jinbei is a very respected doctor and Brook is a renowned musician; Franky own a ship/boat/cruise fix company and Robin is a doctor in the archeology field 😁 they are rich rich

First, Luffy was born. And their first destination was Japan. That is where they adopted Zoro. He was in Juvenile. They sorted out things and adopted this child to save him. Cause he was innocent. Luffy was 6 and Zoro was 10 when this happened. (I know the punishment age range is after 14 in Japan but the crime they were accusing him of was so severe or something that they had to, like you should know I’m just making shit up leave me alone)

After a few months they go to Finland. That is where they adopt Nami. A Swedish girl who was in the hands of a gun mafia that killed her sister and mother. She was 9. So they fight fight and get her.

The new year comes, and they decide to go to Mozambique. That is where they meet Usopp! When Franky and Zoro was walking through streets with full of shops and all, they run into Usopp (same age as Luffy) who was selling things he built. Usopp’s father Yasopp left their home when he was born, and her mother dies of sickness. The social workers does not give shşt about the poor. Franky sees this spark in him. He and Zoro buys things from him. And at the end of the day Franky asks if he wants a family they can be one to him. Usopp refuses because of his sick friend Kaya. Saying that he cannot leave her. Later in the week, yk the drill they show everyone that Kuro is bad person blah blah, they both save Kaya and Usopp. Usopp accepts to be part of their family.

They make BIG AHH turn and go to France. They drop at some seaside town. Such a nice touristic place. But so many shop owners with rent complaints. The mayor of this town goes againts its country’s law and increases the rents per SECOND. They dig down this mystery by accident and find out that the mayor is a evil motherfrucker scientist. He also has a son , Sanji (10 yo), whose very much so sweet. They want to fight the scientist but the country is actually supporting him. Since his products and the stuff he does supports the economy or something. So they technically kidnap Sanji. But Sanji needs it. With Franky’s relations they get him a fake id and all that. But they promise that ona day they will have enough power to defeat him. Sanji is happy.

The next destination is Canada. That is exactly where Franky and Robin decides to make another child 😁

After that they go to Egypt. They come across an organisation that Robin did her internship, the one that ran by Sir Crocodile. They find a lost child named Vivi. Vivi is an 8 year old who is getting used by Crocodile. They save her, save the country, yay! Allthough Vivi was a part of their family for a quite time after they learned that Vivi was a princess, they help her to meet her father. The Strawhats leave Egypt and promise eachother that they will meet again.

After 9 months Chopper is born. And the family is complete for now. But they are still in a quest to help children. Or to collect them lol. After a while the grandpas also join their quest. And yeah thats it. I would binge read it if someone makes a fanfic about it.

[justabigassnerd]

First (Official) Meeting

Pairing - Ethan Hunt x daughter!reader

Word count - 4,734

Warnings - mentions of bombs, violence, death threats, fears of abandonment

Summary - a month after catching Solomon Lane, you meet Ilsa for the first official time, this time without the bombs and threats

A/N - it took about twenty years but I'm finally here with a new Lil' Hunt fic! (did anyone cheer?) I am so sorry this took so long my motivation is all over the freaking place idk what's going on. anyways I won't ramble, as per y'all please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!!!

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After finally catching Solomon Lane and ending the Syndicate. Ethan knew he had found someone he could trust in Ilsa. She saved his life more than once and even protected you after Lane kidnapped you and used you as a bargaining chip to get the disk he craved so much. Due to the dangers of both Ethan and Ilsa’s jobs, they weren’t able to keep in regular contact for the sake of remaining as safe as possible in between missions.

You were more than okay with that fact. You knew Ilsa had saved not only your dad but you too, but you couldn’t shake the off feeling you had about her. You just couldn’t forget what went down in the train station mere minutes before Lane’s men grabbed you and hauled you off. You heard Ilsa and your dad talking, your dad trying to get her to help the IMF out, and Ilsa had talked about how the IMF wouldn’t need him soon enough, and that he’d be discarded once they deemed fit. And after saying that you heard her asking Ethan to run away with her. It crushed you. The silence that followed hurt even more. You expected Ethan to shut Ilsa down, to say there was no way he was leaving you, Benji, and Luther behind. But his silence signalled to you that he was genuinely considering it. That he, even for a moment, thought about leaving his team behind. You knew that your dad probably didn’t want a kid while being an agent. His silence spoke volumes to you as you pulled the comm out of your ear and muttered ‘I need some air’ to Benji before walking off right into the hands of Lane’s men.

After you had been rescued and you, Ethan and the team were back stateside, Ethan had noticed a change in your demeanour. You were quiet, less involved in conversations and barely gave him a second glance. You were disappearing off to the sanctuary of your room moments after eating dinner. Ethan couldn’t blame you for your shift in behaviour. You’d been held captive and forced to have an explosive vest strapped to you while in your dad’s presence. It was natural for anyone to be shaken up in that situation, but it didn’t stop Ethan from being worried about you. It took several attempts on Ethan’s part to get you to open up about the kidnapping and the events that transpired before. It happened one night after you had a nightmare, Ethan had heard your cries and rushed into the room, gun in hand as he quickly surveyed for danger before rushing to your side, pulling you into his arms and helping you find your breath. He didn’t force you to talk, he just wiped your tears and let you recover in your own time. However, once you recovered your breath, he never could have anticipated your next words.

“Were you really going to leave us to run away with Ilsa?” Your voice was barely a whisper, thick with tears and Ethan would’ve missed it entirely had you not been curled up in his arms. At your words, Ethan was instantly shaking his head.

“No, I could never.” He says, unable to believe you’d think such a thing.

“But when she asked, you went silent. It was like you were genuinely considering it.” You argue, another wave of tears attacking you, making you curl further into your father and grab a fistful of his shirt as if it will singlehandedly keep him with you no matter what.

“The question took me off guard, sweetheart. I could never leave you, Benji, and Luther behind. Either we all go or none of us go. I promise you; I’m not leaving you, ever.” Ethan knew it was a big promise he was making, especially given his line of work and the constant danger that followed him around like an eager puppy. You spent the rest of the night before you fell back asleep, talking to your dad about everything you had been feeling since London and he did his best to comfort and support you. Talking to your dad about how you felt which led to you beginning to reintegrate back into the group which made all three men incredibly happy at getting to see you smile and involve yourself with everyone again after a month of nothing more than one-word answers and curt nods.

One day, a couple of days after you started returning to your normal self, Ethan found himself walking around the local area. There was no suspicious activity, nor any mission for him to be on, he was just overly cautious and channelled that energy into going on a walk so he could keep an eye out for anyone who may want to cause harm. As Ethan wandered around a nearby park, eyes surveying every person present in the ways only an IMF agent could before he caught a glimpse of an all-familiar face.

Ilsa was stood a way away, sunglasses sat on her face, but Ethan knew it was her. He’d always be able to recognise her in a crowd, even with the most intricate of disguises. She didn’t do any more than offer a tiny smile before Ethan began gravitating towards her. He hadn’t seen her since everything that went down with Solomon Lane in London, and he just wanted to see how she was doing.

“Ilsa.” Ethan breathed the second he reached her, embracing her in a gentle hug that she is quick to reciprocate.

“How have you been, Ethan?” Her voice is no louder than a soft whisper by his ear as she speaks, widening Ethan’s smile as he holds her.

“I’ve been okay for the most part. How are you?” Ethan admits, pulling away to look Ilsa in the eye as she removes her sunglasses, setting them atop her head.

“Still figuring things out. But I’m doing okay.” Ilsa says, nodding and keeping her small smile on her face, forever trying to be strong and not let her defences down, even in Ethan’s presence.

“You should come to the safe house, lay low with us for a while and get to know my team a little better.” Ethan offered; voice low as he briefly glanced around to make sure there was nobody mingling nearby. Everyone in the park was too busy doing their own thing, walking with a loved one, playing fetch with their dog, or playing catch with their kid. Ilsa debated Ethan’s words for a moment, thinking of what her alternative options could be until she finally reached a conclusion to the debate in her head as she nodded.

“Okay, but only for a few days. I’ll have to move on again soon.” Ilsa says, receiving a gentle nod from Ethan in return. He wasn’t overly keen on the fact that Ilsa had to keep moving around but if it kept her safer then he wouldn’t stop her, not that he could ever stop her from doing something once she’s set her mind on it. After getting the okay from Ilsa, Ethan began to lead her back to the safe house, both agents on their guard the whole walk, expecting danger to appear at any given moment. Thankfully, both agents made it back to the safe house unharmed and entered the building, hearing the sound of laughter and following it to where you, Benji, and Luther were sitting around the table, clearly laughing at something someone had said. All heads turned to look at Ethan as he walked in, and Ethan didn’t miss how you smiled at him and then your smile faltered when your eyes flicked over to Ilsa. There was a tense silence after the laughter died out which was soon replaced by the sound of chair legs scraping across the floor.

“I need the bathroom.” You mutter, quickly excusing yourself and rushing off as Benji and Luther watch you leave before exchanging a glance before Luther gets up and heads into your room, knowing that’s exactly where you will head once you’ve hidden away in the bathroom for a moment. Benji stayed put and glanced back at Ilsa.

“You alright?” Benji said, lifting his hand for the slightest wave as Ilsa nodded, immediately noting the tension filling the room. Despite that, Ethan invited her further in, inviting her to take a seat and get used to the house. As Ilsa perched on the edge of a seat, sat on guard, ready for any potential attack, Ethan pulled Benji aside.

“What was that for?” He hisses lowly, making Benji raise an eyebrow.

“I just said ‘you alright’ I didn’t know you had a problem with that. Look Ilsa’s British she’ll get it.” Benji started, defending his actions when Ethan shushed him.

“No, not that. You, Luther, and y/n gave a weird look when Ilsa walked in. What was that for?” Ethan reiterates, watching as Benji clears his throat awkwardly, glancing over Ethan’s shoulder to make sure Ilsa wasn’t eavesdropping before looking back at Ethan.

“Have you forgotten that she tried to kill me that night at the opera?” Benji says, eyes wide at the thought that Ethan might have chosen to overlook that fact.

“Didn’t she kill the guy who was trying to kill you?” Ethan asks, eyebrow raised as he counters Benji’s point.

“Well, what about when she used those shock paddles on me to get away with the disk?” Benji then argues, remembering the pain of the paddles against his back all too well, fighting back a shiver as he remembers it.

“She was being forced to do that stuff, Benji. Did you forget that she helped me rescue y/n? Or that she helped us catch Lane?” Ethan counters, watching as Benji begins to shuffle, fighting his hardest not to look awkward under Ethan’s glare.

“No I didn’t forget that… but-”

“Benji, you need to stop judging her on past actions. You trust me, right?” Ethan cuts Benji off, knowing it won’t do anyone any good to have tensions like this within the safe house. Upon hearing Ethan’s question, Benji softened.

“Of course I trust you.” He answers, watching Ethan nod before speaking again.

“I trust Ilsa. If you don’t feel ready to trust her yet, then that’s fine but at least trust my judgement here.” Ethan says, his voice low as he looks at Benji, watching as his friend nods slightly.

“Okay, Ethan.” Benji says, looking down like a child getting scolded and Ethan nods once more before backing away to join Ilsa while Benji remains where he was stood.

As Benji and Ethan were talking, you had entered your room after hiding away in the bathroom to collect your thoughts and nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw Luther perched on your bed.

“Jeez Luther, a little warning would be nice.” You say, a nervous laugh tagged onto the end of your sentence as you close the door behind you.

“I apologise. I just wanted to check in with you. I saw the way you reacted when Ilsa walked in.” Luther says gently as you cross to sit next to him on the bed, instantly fiddling with your hands and avoiding eye contact.

“I’m okay, Luther.” You say, barely glancing up at him as he frowns, not trusting your words.

“y/n, it’s okay to not be okay. I can help if you tell me. I won’t tell your dad if you don’t want me to.” Luther urges, watching as you think on his words, debating whether you open up to him or not.

“Promise you won’t tell dad?” You whisper, looking back up at Luther as he begins nodding instantly.

“You don’t want me to tell him, I won’t tell him.” Luther promises, his voice never straying from his gentle tone. With confirmation that this conversation won’t make its way to your father, you nod your head and begin to talk.

“You already know that Ilsa was there when I had that bomb strapped to my chest. But she said to dad’s face that her instructions after getting the disk for Lane were to kill me and him. I know she didn’t, and maybe she never would’ve even given the chance, but hearing something like that is terrifying, Luther. And even if she hadn’t done that… I don’t know Ilsa that well and I’m scared she’ll be like every other outsider who’s come to the team.” You admit quietly, looking down at your wrist and fiddling with the silver charm bracelet that sat happily on your wrist. Luther took in your words carefully nodding as he listened to you speak and understanding where you were coming from. Before replying, Luther silently asked permission to bring you in for a hug which you accepted instantly, always happy to have a hug from anyone in your family.

“You have every right to be cautious after what happened. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, okay?” Luther starts, feeling you nod slightly against him.

“I understand why you’re so cautious about someone from outside the team coming here for a while. You have every right to feel the way you’re feeling. However, I would recommend you try and at least be civil with Ilsa. She’s on our side she was just in a bad situation.” Luther urged softly, looking down at you as you shifted slightly in his embrace to look up at him.

“I know I should. I know dad likes her a lot as well. But it’ll be so hard.” You admit, embarrassed to admit it but Luther just nods softly, no hint of judgement on his face.

“Just do your best Lil’ Hunt.”

It turned out that your best was sitting in the furthest possible corner with your head in a book and avoiding any and all conversation with Ilsa.

Over the days that Ilsa was staying at the safe house, she made significant progress in building trust between herself and Ethan’s other team members. Luther pretty much trusted her straight out of the gate, Luther had used Ilsa as a way to track down Ethan when both Ethan and Benji had disappeared to hunt for Lane. Luther had known that Ethan trusted Ilsa and since Luther trusted Ethan, he had no reason to doubt Ethan’s judgement. Benji was a tougher nut to crack, he was cautious because of the alleged two times she tried to kill him, but after a day or two Benji conversed with her a little more and they began to form a friendship of sorts.

You, however, were much more difficult to get through to. Ilsa couldn’t blame you, after all, you had heard her admitting Lane’s orders were for her to get the disk and then kill both you and Ethan. Ilsa, of course, never would’ve followed that order, despite her cover she never would’ve been able to bring herself to kill you or your father, but you didn’t know how far she’d go to maintain cover. Ilsa figured that you believed she would’ve done it for the sake of her cover. Ilsa wished to be able to prove to you that you can trust her, she knew Ethan told you multiple times a day that you could talk to her to try and build up a bond, you were just struggling with everything.

One day, Ilsa had seen you reading a book that she recognised. In mostly working alone Ilsa often fell to reading books to provide herself with comfort and gave her a way to pass the time. Taking a deep breath, Ilsa crossed the room and eased herself down on one of the other chairs around the table, keeping a good distance between you and her as she gauged your reaction. You glanced at her out of the corner of your eye briefly before turning your attention back to your book.

“Hi y/n, how’s the book?” Ilsa asks tentatively, watching as you shrug and let out a slight hum in response.

“You know that book is one of my favourites so if you ever want to talk about it, I’m more than happy to chat about it with you.” Ilsa then offers, receiving another hum and shrug. You were not playing ball and Ilsa could tell. You were trying to keep a barrier between the two of you and Ilsa didn’t want to force herself into your life if you really wanted nothing to do with her. With a small sigh, Ilsa got up from the chair and left you be, not wanting to disturb or upset you. As she crossed the room, she made eye contact with Ethan who offered her a small smile and a mouthed apology on your behalf.

Ethan, without even knowing of the conversation you had with Luther the day Ilsa arrived, knew exactly why you were shutting down and acting this way. He couldn’t fault you for being cautious. And he couldn’t blame you for worrying about how Ilsa may treat you, especially given how a lot of IMF agents have treated you in recent years.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Ethan said as he entered your room, a gentle smile on his face as he crossed the room and perched on the edge of your bed, watching you put your book down and smile at him.

“Hi, dad.” You reply, expecting him to give you a hug and ask you about your day before bidding you goodnight as he usually did each night.

“I’ve noticed you’ve not really spoken to Ilsa. Is this because of London?” He asks, noticing you tensing slightly at his words, glancing away from him before looking back at him and nodding lightly.

“And because I’m scared she’ll be like the others.” You admit meekly, fiddling with a loose thread on your duvet cover to distract yourself from seeing the potential upset in your dad’s eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart. Ilsa’s not like them I promise you that. And I know she’d never hurt you either.” Ethan says softly, he’s not the first person to tell you that but hearing it from him eased your mind slightly. He was there when you had the bomb strapped to your chest. He heard the threats yet still trusted Ilsa to help him catch Lane.

“If you give her a chance, I bet you’ll see how well the two of you will be able to get on. You trust your old man, right?” Ethan continues, moving further up the bed to pull you into his arms which you accept instantly, curling into him.

“I trust you.” You reply, head resting just above his heart as you listen to the steady thumping.

“I wouldn’t willingly encourage this if I didn’t trust Ilsa. She’s someone I care about and who I know you’ll learn to like too. Don’t tell her I said this, but she likes you already.” Ethan says gently, his chest rumbling gently under your head with each word spoken.

“She does?” You question, lifting your head slightly to look up at him as he smiles down at you.

“Oh definitely. When we went our separate ways after catching Lane, the last thing she said to me was ‘watch out for y/n, she’s a good kid’.” Ethan says, the words burned into his memory. He saw the slight smile that crossed your lips before you buried yourself back into his chest.

“I’ll try to make more of an effort with her.” You promise, beginning to realise that if Ilsa really was as bad as your mind was making her out to be, she’s had several opportunities to wipe out you and the team or steal valuable IMF information. Instead, she’s been hanging out with everyone, getting to know them that little bit more. And with your dad’s words swirling around your head, you went to bed that night with a whole new perspective.

The next day, by the time you’d rolled out of bed and showered, you entered the main room to find your dad, Ilsa, Benji, and Luther sitting around the table conversing about something that, judging by the looks on their faces, could be serious. You didn’t want to disturb them, but you were curious, so you remained where you were stood, listening to them discussing the suspicious activity Luther had picked up on and listening to them discussing how to deal with it. Everyone seemed to have different ideas, and no one was able to agree with the other.

“y/n, what do you think?” Ilsa had noticed you walk in and how you mingled nearby to listen. You were Ethan’s daughter, and she was sure you’d be able to come up with a good plan of attack. When no one shut down Ilsa trying to involve you, you spoke up as an idea came to mind.

“Since you guys don’t actually know if it’s a genuine threat or just petty crime you could just go on a walk around, have a look around. But take Ilsa with you as well. Benji and Luther can run extra surveillance from here.” You suggest, shrugging lightly as the team exchanges a look, nodding in agreement before looking back at you.

“That sounds like a pretty good plan, y/n.” Benji says with a grin, both he and Luther instantly turning their attention to their laptops and hacking into what they need to gain access to cameras in the nearby area. As Ethan and Ilsa prep to go out, Ilsa crosses to you, a nervous expression you’ve never seen on her before displayed across her face.

“You’re really okay with me going with your dad on this?” She asks softly, watching the soft smile covering your face as you nod.

“I am. I trust you and I know you’ll bring my dad back.” You say and Ilsa swore she could’ve fallen apart right then and there. She doesn’t know what happened overnight to make you trust her, but you were trusting her to go out on surveillance with Ethan and knew she’d bring him back to you.

“I won’t let you down.” Ilsa promises quietly just as Ethan calls over to her, now ready to head out and you watch her cross to your dad, the two of them sharing a smile and a nod before heading out of the door.

While Ethan and Ilsa were investigating where they’d heard of suspicious activities taking place, Ethan figured that now was a good time as any to have a private chat with Ilsa. Turning off his comm after informing Benji he’s going to do it, he motions for Ilsa to do the same and once she’s done so he speaks up.

“I noticed you talking to y/n before we left, and she was smiling. Making progress?” He asks, kicking aside a damp cardboard box to look for any evidence of the activities he’d heard of.

“A little. She was saying that she trusts me and knows I’ll get you back in one piece.” Ilsa replies with a small smile, already playing the moment back in her head.

“She’s had it rough. A lot of people from outside the team would see her and subsequently see a burden.”

“But she’s not.” Ilsa cuts in, quickly apologising to Ethan who shakes his head with a slight chuckle before sobering up to continue with what he was saying.

“Of course, she’s not. But a lot of people did think that and would treat her pretty badly. It’s why she struggles with opening up to new people. It’s only ever been me, Benji, and Luther her whole life so when she’s supposed to trust people who treat her badly… it’s hard on her.” Ethan continues, peeking around an alley corner and heading down it with Ilsa close behind.

“I’d never treat her like that.” Ilsa swears as Ethan glances at her, the smallest of smiles on his face.

“I know you won’t. And I think she’s beginning to know that too.”

Back at the safe house, you were awaiting Ethan and Ilsa’s return after both of them cut off their comms. Neither Benji or Luther could pick up on any suspicious activity and figured that the two would be back before too long. As predicted, the two came in within fifteen minutes muttering how it was a dead end that pointed to nothing more than petty crime. You hugged your dad instantly upon his arrival, which he of course reciprocated before you crossed to Ilsa.

“Thank you.” You say, looking up at her as she nods with a smile.

“I said I wouldn’t let you down.” Ilsa replies with a wink as you smile.

“You know… I’m halfway through that book you said you liked if you wanted to talk about it with me?” You offer, noticing how Ilsa’s eyes immediately lit up and you grab your book off the table before heading to the sofa with her. You both sit on the sofa as you begin to animatedly talk about the parts you’ve read, including the big midpoint plot twist. Ilsa engaged with your thoughts and shared some of her own, both of you grinning.

“Did we just get replaced? That fast?” Benji says incredulously, watching you and Ilsa interact while Ethan and Luther chuckle.

“We’re not being replaced, Benji.” Luther assures his friend, clapping him on the shoulder as all three men watch you with smiles of their own.

For the rest of the day you hung out with Ilsa, getting to know her and her getting to know you. You were so thankful that every question she asked was about getting to know you and not just your dad. Everyone who spent time with the team tried so hard to get information about Ethan from you. But Ilsa was different. She genuinely wanted to get to know you and you had so much fun getting to hang out with her. It was also nice to have another girl to talk to, being able to get advice and help about certain topics you struggled talking to your dad about. When it came time to go to bed you found yourself wishing you could stay up all night talking with her, but you didn’t want to be any more of a nuisance, so you left her be with a goodnight before heading to your room to sleep.

The next morning, you woke up eager to continue your book chat with Ilsa after reading a few more chapters before going to sleep but when you showered and changed and entered the main room you saw Ilsa slinging her back over her shoulder.

“What’s going on?” You question, looking from person to person awaiting an answer.

“I’m going somewhere else y/n. I was only planning to stay a few days anyway.” Ilsa says, speaking softly as you approach her, all sorts of emotions displayed on your face as you try to process everything.

“You can’t stay a bit longer?” You ask, fighting back a frown when she shakes her head with a gentle smile.

“It’s safer for all of us if I move on.” She explains and you understood her reasons, though it didn’t mean you liked it.

“Is there a way I can keep in contact with you?” You then ask, watching as Ilsa nods, pulling out her phone and getting her number out for you to copy down into your own phone.

“Now you can message me whenever you want.” She says as both of you tuck your phones away. As she starts to say her goodbyes to Benji, Luther, and your dad you start to regret taking so long to open up to her.

“Goodbye y/n.” Ilsa says, turning back to you when you suddenly wrap your arms around her for a hug, smiling when you feel her arms wrap around you.

“Goodbye Ilsa, I’ll miss you.” You whisper before pulling away.

“I’ll miss you too. I can’t imagine it’ll be too long until we see each other again.” Ilsa says, her smile never leaving her face as you nod, watching her bid one last goodbye to everyone before exiting the safe house.

While you were upset you hadn’t spent as much time as you now wished you had with Ilsa, her words comforted you slightly. She was right, you’d see each other again.

It was just a matter of time.

[rinniereads123]

Series

SOME OF THESE STORIES ARE MATURE! READ THE WARNINGS AND TAGS BEFORE YOU READ!

Last updated 10/29/2024

★ - personal favorites | masterlist | other recs

The Rite - @lokisgoodgirl

As an invisible member of the wider Asgardian court, everything changes when you catch the eye of the elusive Prince Loki under unconventional circumstances. Pressured by time (and his brother) Loki is reminded he must complete a particular Rite in order to secure his place in Asgard's succession - all he needs is a partner. But adhering to the strict rules in the approach to the ceremonial Rite is more challenging than hedonistic, smugly smoldering Loki anticipated...as are his growing feelings for you.

★Does It Hurt? - @ellemj

Bucky never would've gone out of his way to help you if he knew that HYDRA was still watching his every move, if he knew that it would shift their focus to you. When you're targeted and taken, it's his fault and he'll do anything to save you. Anything.

Doll, please - @lokiswifeduh

Bucky is taken by the reader's ex-boyfriend. You go to save him, not knowing it's a trap.

★Love You Like Oxygen - @questionableratatouille00

You and Bucky’s journey through navigating sexual trauma.

★Graveyard - @wkemeup

As the unofficial healer for the Avengers, you pride yourself on the ability to mend heroes with the touch of your hand. Only, your gift comes at a heavy price — one you keep secret from your friends —and when Bucky asks you to do the impossible, they’ll discover why your gift is called a sacrifice, too. 

You Can't Leave Me - @thinkingoutlouddblog

A fight with Bucky distracts you from your mission.

Just let me go - @itsthewritergal

Y/N and Bucky are exes with a history. When Y/N is kidnapped, the Avengers come to her aid, but can she and Bucky make amends?

★your hands have made some good mistakes - @thenhewaswrongaboutme

Bucky has to spend six months locked up with a stranger. His teammates went on an international press tour and left him behind. They hired someone to supervise him, per the conditions of his pardon— a roommate, they said. A roommate?

One's Promised - @invisibleanonymousmonsters

Living a double life was not a choice when one was the daughter of Alexander Pierce. Y/N was the youngest agents of SHIELD and one of the most respected threats within Hydra’s empire. No matter her allegiance, she was feared by both. Y/N Pierce would’ve tried to escape it all… if it hadn’t been for The Winter Soldier.

Flustered - @ellemj

Bucky seems to thoroughly appreciate all women...except for you. When he finds out one of your weaknesses, he can't help but use it against you, which only makes you hate him more.

Of Kings and Beasts - @nastybuckybarnes

Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrusted to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

All the King's Men - @nastybuckybarnes

Your father always said that if it weren’t for your presentation, he’d think you were an Alpha. There’s a reason for that. Growing up in a world where Omegas are treated like garbage, you’ve fought for the respect that you have. Until you’re sold off to an old King desperate for a bride. But you will not lay down and present for your new husband. No, you will fight back.

Worthy - @xalygatorx

Worthy is a slow-burn SFW Marvelverse (films) romance between Loki and a female OC that spans the timeline of the mentioned films in the disclaimer section below. I got to connect some loose ends for myself that I noticed in the films and I hope that they're just as enjoyable for you to revisit as they were for me at the time of writing this and now, reposting it. (Fluff and angst within with a confirmed happy ending.)

Underground - @adrinktostopyourthirst

The Underground is the last way for you to survive whatever is left of the world after the Blip. Natasha introduces you to the Winter Soldier whose wing you're under until you find your way around. He's a stoic Underground fighter and you're... useless.

Missing Piece - @likeahorribledream

When Bucky first arrived to the compound, Steve was his only friend and the only person he trusted himself around. That is until Steve introduces him to you, his best friend. Bucky was fascinated by how often you and Steve would hug each other. It had been a very long time since anyone had touched him in such a loving way and it didn’t take long before Bucky found himself craving your touch, but whenever you’d get too close he would flinch as if someone had hit him. His trauma still too fresh a wound for him to be comfortable with someone touching him. Then one day, he finally fights his instincts and let you touch him. He hadn’t realized how truly touch starved he was until he feels the warmth of your skin against his. Something clicks for the both of you in that moment, you had found your missing piece. As long as you were with each other, you were home. You both tried to fool yourselves into thinking you were just friends, really close friends. Friends that needed to be together almost every minute of every day and who needed to hold each other to be able to sleep at night.

Needs and Wants - @ellemj

When you and Bucky are exposed to an unknown chemical in the field, things go from bad to worse.

Afterglow - @fictive-sl0th

After weeks of research on the super serum, you, a young talented scientist, have settled in well with the Avengers. Pepper and Nat became your best friends, Bruce your colleague, Cap a gentleman, and Bucky one to trust. Only Prince Loki who's forces to support Earth indefinitely, seems especially annoyed by you. One fateful day, when an experiment went horribly wrong, your life would change forever. Just like what you thought you knew about feelings and emotions...

Plum - @buckybabieboy (not complete)

After a bad day outside and an incident with Bucky, you catch an inexperienced!bucky pathetically humping your pillow. Your sadistic thoughts cause you to get carried away. Bucky's up to it at first, just wanting you to make him feel good. But as the night goes on he begins to realize he was in over his head.

Kingdom Fall - @nastybuckybarnes (not complete)

When an invading Kingdom forces you to flee your home, you find yourself stranded in an enemy kingdom on a farm, and the farmboy is nothing like you thought he would be. 

[lillylvjy]

If you loved me (why’d you leave me)

Summary: where your best friend Wilbur, goes missing and you try to find out where he is

A/n- this is a pile of dog crap. It sucks but it’s something. Um enjoy. If you don’t like it, I understand:) also this is based off of a short story I did in college

Warnings: major character death, bullying mentioned, abuse mentioned, kidnapping, murder, crying, use of Wilbur’s actual name (Gold), and if I missed anything please tell me. This is in an au I made:)

This fic involves heavy topics! If you are uncomfortable with anything in this fic please! Do not read it!

Fucking finally.

After 4 months.

They found him.

4 months ago your best friend Wilbur, went missing and no one knew where he was. Everyone just sat there and said ‘The police will eventually find him, it’s ok’.

Ok?

OK!

Your best friend is missing, and you can say is ‘it’s going to be ok.’ Bullshit.

So with those 4 months, you’ve been collecting as much evidence as you can. From text messages, notes, where he last was seen, everything. Your brother is the detective at the police station so you’re trying your best to help him.

Finally they say, “we think we’ve got him”. Wilbur and his kidnapper.

Kidnapper?

He was taken?!

That information put your mind in a whirlpool.

He was taken?!

Did they feed him?

Is he alright?!

You need to see him!

You need to see your boy. Your partner in crime.

You begged your brother to go with them so you could see Wilbur and see if he’s…… see if he’s gone.

No, no, no! He’s not dead! Wilbur is strong. He made it.

Your brother told you to wait in his office as he rushed out the police station and into a car with the Chief.

The whole time you were shaking. Your thoughts running a million miles per hour.

‘What is taking so long? It’s been 3 hours! They should be back with the culprit by now and Wilbur should be in the hospital, getting a check up.’

Finally, after what felt like forever, your brother and the rest of the team were here. You sprinted out of his office and stood in front of him.

You looked at him, waiting for him to explain that Wilbur was just fine and you could go see him.

But he just stood there. He lifted up a piece of paper with your name on it. You took it and saw it was Wilbur’s hand writing. It looked like he was rushing. Something he didn’t like.

‘Why was he rushing?’ You thought

You opened the paper and saw it was a letter from him. You started reading:

My dearest Y/n,

I know this event might be taking a tole on you. And I know you’re doing your best to look for me, I can feel it. But I didn’t make it love. I wish I could see you one more time before I die but, if this is how it ends. It’s how it ends.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not giving you enough hugs. Not taking you out to see the stars enough. Not taking you out on that date I promised you. I’m sorry for putting you through this. I’m sorry for everything Y/n.

Just know, I’m with you. All of the time. I’m by your side. We’re partners in crime remember? No matter what happens, we stick together. And that’s what we’re gonna do. You’re just gonna have to be the only partner visible.

I love you y/n. I always have. Take care of everyone and yourself for me yeah? And visit me when you can.

Goodbye my dearest.

Love, Wil.

P.S. Take care of Atlantis for me, yeah?

No. No he’s not gone. He’s fucking with me.

You shook your head, in denial, as tears flowed down your rosy cheeks.

“No. He’s not dead. He can’t be dead! It’s Wilbur! He also makes it out! Where is he?” You yelled at your brother.

Your brother shook his head and went to grab your shoulder. You shook your head and ran out the police station.

You ran until your feet and legs gave out. You made it to the spot. The tree. The place Wilbur would take you when things got to hard. The place you would tell Wilbur all the shitty things those girls did and said to you. The place where you felt safe, with him.

You quickly climb up the tree and sat in your spot as you sobbed. You clutched the letter in to your chest as you screamed at the world. Screamed at the person who took away your Wilbur. Screamed at yourself for not thinking faster.

Why did you, of all the people, have to leave me? Why him?!

As you looked at the night sky, you could see it.

The star.

Our star.

Atlantis.

I mean, not the official name but Wilbur promised one day he would get the rights to name the star Atlantis. The city you always wanted to find.

“Wil. I love you. So much. Please don’t leave me.” You said, sobbing as you looked at the star. The star shone brighter than you’ve ever seen it. That made you smile a little.

Maybe Wilbur is there. Or maybe he’s beside you like old times. Wherever he is, you can feel him. He’s with you.

And after all of this, after all this time and pain….. I’m still glad I looked for you. I will always look for you; everyday, in everything I do.

I will look for you. William Gold.

My partner in crime.

Taglist: @deadphantomsociety (if you want to be added, send me a lovely ask or message me:))

[three-word-count]

The Taste of Home

Chapter One: Chamomile

Saeran x reader, post-after-ending domestics

Word count: 1542

Read on Ao3 link

[ I wish we could take a nap together read together look at pretty flowers together and go see places we've never seen together… ] 

...

He slept like an angel.

You found him sprawled out across your brand new couch- a soft mauve color he had picked out for its shade alone. The ends of his hair blended seamlessly with the velvety fabric in the dim lighting. You couldn’t tell where it began and ended. Perhaps he was so tired that he began to melt into the furniture itself. It was a plausible thought, considering how hard he’d been working as of late.

It had been less than four months since… well, everything. Since the quick beginning and ending of your Mint Eye stay. Since Saeyoung's brutal kidnapping. Since the chaotic reveal and fallout of Rika and Jihyun's chaos. Since the twins' father… Saeran needed rest more than anything nowadays.

His bruised eye bags had slowly faded with time as you helped him develop a more normal sleep schedule, and his eye-strain lessened as he was weaned off of constant exposure to computer screens despite the remaining permanent damage when it came to reading up close. He still struggled with regular nightmares and episodic bouts of terror that left him awake and anxious for hours, but you never minded. You were both healing after all, and healing took time. There were noticeable improvements with every passing week.

You were also able to encourage a proper meal schedule, three meals per day that were, more often than not, cooked together due to his passion for the kitchen. He enjoyed the bonding time along with the fact that you could be involved in activities together. He hadn't been able to share hobbies and interests with anyone back at Magenta, and these new kinds of experiences and relationships were deeply important to him.

He remained trapped with his extreme people-pleasing issues, but you helped him see that destroying a recipe in accidents was more than okay, in fact it was fun sometimes, and a great thing to laugh over and learn from. Combined with his new self-made recipe books he'd been experimenting with, along with his always-oversized portions of pastry baking, you'd been glad to see his physicality improve as well. “No more skin-and-bones-Saeran” you had set as a goal, and his love for sweets guaranteed to help with that. The amount of time the two of you spend in the kitchen kept you both soft and healthy, a drastic improvement from his previous lifestyle.

He was determined and set to strive for any and all improvements despite his remaining reserved fears. His current project was constructing the house he had promised to you, though you suspected that in a way he had also promised it to himself. He had experience with the erection of towers and extensions of Mint Eye's main facility and the design of his beloved gardens, yet he hesitated at most decision making at the beginning of the project. He checked in with you for comments, worries, confirmations, and any and all opinions or concerns. He worried ceaselessly over little details and intricacies that could be altered later. Contrary to how Ray had furnished your old room fully on his own account, he regretted being so controlling of your environment there, and now wanted only what you wanted and nothing more.

And like always, you wanted nothing more than to help him find himself. You did what you knew best, and found that in this case, it was mostly a balanced art of praise and comfort.

He responded well to your steady encouragement, urging him slowly to come up with and settle on ideas of his own choosing. You were happiest when you could clearly see his progress; his most recent blueprint he had worked on with his brother, of a skylight he wanted in the bedroom ceiling that could be left open for starlight viewing and closed shut with a switch-activated sliding panel for proper darkness and sleeping. He excitedly introduced it to you with energetic gestures and a gentle blush dusted on his cheeks with occasional hesitation that gave away his nervousness. You had kissed his nose and told him you loved the idea.

Since then, he added a confident personal touch to almost everything.

Of course you were still highly involved, his dream garden wouldn't be perfect without your additions, he had claimed. He designed a walkway of cement stones of different shapes, ones you could design together. The largest one was in the shape of a heart, where other garden paths could branch off from it. It had both of your hand prints molded into the wet plaster, the permanent keystone of his new backyard paradise. A previous copy that the both of you had made had been squished from leaning too far into it while laughing. He placed it as the center stone of the patio he planned to build a wooden porch swing on.

He had plenty more things drafted on sheets and little sketches on sticky notes stamped along his laptop rim, but he had been so busy already with everything else that he needed to be coaxed into regular breaks still. It’s difficult to break workaholic tendencies, Jaehee had confirmed herself as you confided in her at your last cafe visit about his still-somewhat-spontaneous sleep schedule. He just wanted stability. No more change. No more construction. No more couch napping on half finished rooms, or staying over in Saeyoung’s labyrinth of a bunker with more spare rooms than he could count on his hands. He wanted his hard-earned independence and a proper safe haven for the two of you, and he was willing to do everything he could to achieve it as soon as possible.

But of course, this mentality caught up to him. You had returned from your errands to find him draped across the couch, a book on botany care splayed open across his chest, his thin, rose-gold reading glasses having slipped down his nose. His breath came in waves of deep sleep. You suspected he had been this way for a while. How cute…  

Best to let him rest. He deserved it. You placed your bags down beside the door. You could put them away later. You retrieved a gently folded fleece blanket, a soft mimic of a large gloriosum leaf you had bought as a surprise gift for him. He had teared up with excitement when you first presented the large heart-shaped sheet to him, wrapped caringly in floral paper that he almost didn’t want to tear apart. He used it so often that it now carried his gentle scent, seemingly woven into the fabric itself. You took the book from his chest and draped the fabric over him, securing him lovingly in its embrace so as to welcome him into a warm dream. He mumbled in his sleep. Your name, soft upon his lips.

He used to be a light sleeper, fueled by fear to remain awake for hours through the night. The lightest footsteps were once able to fling him into an alerted frenzy. But this new comfort had changed him. Your presence made him feel secure. Safe. Truly at home, for the first time in his life. You pet his hair, brushing his long bangs away from his eyes. Perhaps you would trim them for him soon.

But that thought could wait for now. You sat down on the floor, leaning slowly against the front of the couch so as to not disturb his rest, and opened his botany book to the page where he left off. You wanted to be a part of his greenhouse dream, and the best way to help is to learn it all the same way he did. You admired his intelligence and dedication to bookkeeping. The vast amount of shelves he had filled in the living room were proof of his adherence to the art.

You shifted your focus back to his book, calmly grounded by his steady breathing beside your head. You found his myosotis bookmark resting in the crevice of a chapter on tea, saving his spot on the page of flower care. Handwritten scribbles of notes filled in the margins, data and consideration of sunlight and water ratios, temperature changes, and the average seasonal shifts. He put a great amount of care into this project that did not even yet exist.

How sweet, how badly he wanted this self-sufficient garden. And how sweet that he could create exactly that with his life and freedom and very own choices. He deserved to yearn and dream, no matter how big or small. Because every little thing in life was important to Saeran.

His delicate chamomile buds, though not yet tangible, could almost be tasted on your tongue. The thought of your future, wrapped in his arms on a cold rainy morning, warmed by cups of herbal tea grown, raised, and brewed fully on his own… your heart softened at the possibility. Guided by the flowers, you felt sleep begin to pull on you as well. Perhaps, while reading the same book and thinking the same thoughts, Saeran had experienced the equivalent too. Maybe with this shared feeling in your chest, you both would share the same dream as well. You let the idea take you, and drifted off to rest, your heartbeat synced with his.

[rottmnt-hc]

Entering the Bay

Warnings: mentioned kidnapping, mentioned killing, Author's Note in the end

New York had been in relative peace since (out of the shadows) the turtle brothers came into the light.

Though there was still the threat of the Foot Clan and their leader Karai, who's been planning her revenge.

Trying to find the perfect weapons to wield against her enemies, the most powerful.

She found them, in the form of children. More turtles, but different.

She lost the two she took with the most promising outcome, to a creature.

And she hates losing…

========

Far from the crazy assassin lady, were two young teens and their gruff father.

Raphael, named after an angel per his mother's request, stood proudly in his bright red hoodie. A grin on his face as he victoriously carried three bags of McDonald's, each carrying something different. He is a blasian male (all pronouns actually) that has his hair braided in the front only to stop into a puffball at the back of his head, being held by a red scarf. Standing at 6'5, he has a faint scar on his left eye, a tanky exterior and sharp looking teeth.

Walking in the dead of night with his younger brother, to a rooftop

In front carrying a suitcase was Donatello, named after a famous Renaissance artist as per father's request, walking quickly with excitement. Royal Purple hoodie and a sly grin as the two walked towards the Hudson.

Donatello was a blasian kid (they/him) with an afro puff at the back of his head held in place by a pair of custom goggles with a purple bandana. He is 5'5 with a muscular build and deep faint scarring on his back and equally sharp looking teeth.

They were curious about the so called heroes of New York but didn't seek them out, instead the two looked for a way home.

Their true home…a different dimension, their dimension.

"Raph, I'm telling you stargazing isn't going to help anyone with anything." Though the smile on his face was telling.

"Yea, but Barry is going through it and I think we deserve a break, home school is hard man." He took the lead and led his brother to a rooftop.

Once the coast was clear, Raphael summoned his Ninpo and carried the cargo to their roof.

They claimed this rooftop as their own day three of being here, noone disturbed them and they kept to themselves.

Both kids refuse to admit they needed this, their Big Brothers day…which is actually a few months but needed.

Serious talks quickly turned stupid and goofy as the days went on. Learning more about each other since their last BBD.

As Donnie set up his telescope, Raph decided to start the random questioning.

"Okay, if you had to pick, would you rather prank a soap factory or a fireworks factory?"

"What made you think of that? Fireworks, especially before 4th of July, fill all of it with either whipped cream or oil. I both love and hate them. What about you?" 

"Soap, especially that one soap that dries out my hands. Look, I steal all the glitter in New York, and throw it in the soap mix. Everyone gets pranked now."

"You are by far the most evil person I know, glitter? Yep, thank whoever's listening they didn't give you the energy to commit these high acts of crime against humanity. They should've arrested you on the spot."

They laughed faintly noticing a moving shadow but ignoring it as they continued their game, "Ok, ok, how about super powers? What would you pick?"

"Flight."

"Not Strength? Dude you're a muscle guy, I would have never figured flight."

"Okay listen, I might not be able to bench press a bus, but I'd be happy zooming around in the air. What about you? And don't say super smart, you don't need twice that."

"Haha laughing sarcastically, telekinesis so I can do a bunch of things at once…but thanks for saying I'm super smart."

Raph passed his brother his bag of plain burgers and fries (he did make a fuss about the plain and got it plain), "Okay time for the moment of truth, evil villain knows where you live and what your family looks like, what do you do to him after getting him down."

"That's a hard one, on one hand…murder isn't good, on the other hand I'd kill for you. Pros, world's safe, no one else gets hurt, my family is safe…cons, that shit will live with me, might be considered a villain afterwards, still might get my family hurt, they have kids."

"....I didn't say you'd be a hero dumbass."

"Murder. That fucker messed with the wrong family."

Taking a bite out of a burger, Donnie and Raph stared at the in coming stars on the screen in silence.

The shadows behind them got closer, so Raph shifted a bit forward to look at the screen.

He always thought the galaxy looked pretty and grinned, "I think I could rock a dress in those colors." (Do you think we'll have to fight?)

"Really? I mean you could if you had the right cut." (Probably not, we'll have to wait)

"Ooh, so apparently people eat turtles…should I add that to the bucket list?" (They smell like turtle, maybe won't be attacked?)

"I don't know how to respond to that, maybe. Should we head home? I think I got a full scan." (We should leave.)

Raph stood up and started cleaning up their mess while Donnie packed his equipment and decided to walk along the rooftops.

At the corner of his eye he sees a shadow move and decided to play along, his head quickly turned towards the hiding places as a quick scan.

"Phae? What's up?" Donnie sounded monotone to everyone who didn't know him, but he sounded amused.

"Thought I saw something, nevermind I guess. Come on, let's get to populated roads please."

"I don't think you should be going anywhere that way little bros." A voice called out from the shadows.

There was a thump before a soft "ow" followed.

Donnie was the one to answer, "Oh yea? Why not?

"Uh, dangerous people? Kidnapping? Why are you even here alone?"

Raph's face morphed into confusion, "Why, you gonna kidnap us?"

Donnie narrows his eyes, "That's creepy, our kidnappers talking to their victims before kidnapping us. Bro I'm fifteen, I don't need this drama. If I'm getting kidnapped just do it."

"We're not kidnapping you-"

"That's exactly what a kidnapper would say, the suspense is killing me."

A gruff "That's not the only thing gonna kill you-"

"Did you bring an army with you!? And you're skipping the kidnapping!?" Raph managed to keep his voice even enough for it to sound hurt.

"They must know you're a tank, they need friends to take you." Donnie sounded a bit high pitched, he was trying not to laugh.

"ENOUGH!" This new voice has the two flinching and it continued a bit softer, "You kids should head home, and don't come back. Gangs like to appear here."

Raph groans, "We've been coming here for months now, no gangs!"

Though the thought did run through his head, were they being hunted?

Donnie huffed obviously perturbed, "Fine, I think I got what I need. Come on Raph."

"Wait, what's your name!?" It was the lighter voice again that Raph assumed was this world's Michaelangelo.

"The fuck are you asking my name for?" He felt really defensive all of a sudden.

There was silence before they continued, "My name is Michaelangelo, what's your name."

There were hushed scoldings before Raph huffed, "Raphael, yes named after an Angel."

"Donatello, mostly cause dad was an art dweeb." There was a gasp of air before Raph's phone buzzed.

"Dona, we gotta go. Pops is freaking out." Raph said after reading the message.

Donnie gave his brother a look before starting to climb down the building.

They started walking away when they heard a huge thing behind them.

It took everything in both their powers not to move.

A more analyzing voice, being directly behind them, spoke, "You didn't run, why?"

"Honestly, we don't know if you have guns. Besides you just said gangs like to show up here, running will just make them notice us." Donnie sounded confused so Raph picked up

"Also, we are new to New York and I wanna stop by the corner store."

"Really? You took down ten double cheeseburgers and three large fries, how are you still hungry?!"

"How do you know I didn't want something to drink? I mean I am getting some chips but I'm actually pretty thirsty."

Three more large thuds made themselves known, "Dang kid, you play sports?"

"Nope? At least not yet, but I'm kinda going to work my way into working with kids." It was true, Raph was a great assistant teacher when April needed him.

This time Donnie's phone vibrates, Barry's panicked words flashed across the screen.

The two finally turned towards their "stalkers" and did a quick look over.

They were all big and bulky, they probably have Raph beat in height but he's got them all in bulk.

With a grin Raph nods, "I can take you. Most definitely."

The red bandana, Raphael, grinned, "You wanna test that? I will be happy to give you a shot."

The analytical one, Donatello, hit his arm, "Well my name is also Donatello, I'm Michelangelo's older brother. This is my twin Raphael, don't let his appearance fool you, he's a softy."

Raphael gave a growl that sent shivers up Donnie's spine but Raphie stood his ground with narrowed eyes.

The blue mask sighed, "I am Leonardo, the leader of the group. Because my brothers introduced us to total strangers, means we'll be seeing each other again. We'll make sure you make it home."

There was a silent conversation that was missed but nonetheless they kept their word and escorted them home.

Once inside Raph pulled his little brother to the side to huff, "We literally just showed them where we live…should I be worried."

Donnie groaned and shrugged, "Probably, welp, let's face the music."

They entered the apartment to see Baron Draxum in his human form glory, he looked more startled than actual concerned.

With a sigh of relief he hugged them, "Boys, what did I say about texting me whenever you're out."

"Sorry Barry, we didn't mean to worry you."

"We got caught up in the stars, which I think I have enough data for my project!"

The old goat groaned with a smile, "Go wash up, you might be homeschooled but I want to relax this weekend."

The two washed their faces and brushed their teeth and hair.

"You finishing up tonight or tomorrow?" Raph was putting on his pajamas, a large grey t-shirt and bright red shorts, and grabbing his phone from the counter.

"I'll do it tomorrow, tonight was kinda draining. Weird encounter though, honestly I didn't expect it." Donnie was in silk purple pajamas and phone in hand.

The two went into separate rooms to sleep, unknowing the true dangers they'll be in.

A/N: Originally, Big Mama was supposed to be the one in the Bayverse with the boys, but then I would have written her joining Karai for her machine just to get double and triple crosses...

[ozziesjester]

You can post about your FNAF s/I if you want, this is your blog and you can do whatever you want forever.

god anon. u are so correct. how could i have been so foolish.

okay. here goes nothing. i dont think ive ever tried to write all this down before...

this is bryce! he's my fnaf s/i! i've spent about 5-ish years coming up with his lore... he was a joint effort to create between me and my partners!!

bryce is... unfortunate. he's an unfortunate child. born to a bastard priest and his underage child bride, i can't really say he's ever had it easy. his mother "disappeared" shortly after his birth, leaving him in the care of his father, who believed him to be an illegitimate child.

why? who knows, man. crazy ass delusions or something. this led him to severely mistreat bryce. he WAS, at least, allowed to attend the christian elementary school his father taught at. every single attempted cry for help was gone ignored due to his father's reputation. and it didn't help that every friend he made seemed to mysteriously go missing.

i'd say this continued until around... 7? maybe 8 years old? for the first time ever, he was allowed to attend a classmate's birthday party. for timeline's sake, i wanna say it would've been at the fnaf 2 location? you can probably see where i'm going with this.

there, he would've met william. likely sought out by the man when he detached from the larger group of children. a conversation was struck up - during which, bryce would offhandedly comment on his father's abuse. this catches william's attention, and the boy is swiftly whisked away from the restaurant to take a vacation in will's basement.

from this point on, a large portion of his time was spent in the cellar of the afton house. terrified at first, eventually, he adjusted surprisingly well to the situation. it wasn't like william hurt him very often, and at least he was being fed while in captivity. he tried to be the perfect little kidnapee, in hopes that maybe he'd be allowed to live.

months pass. though the passage of time is hard to tell when you can't see sunlight, so bryce isn't sure exactly how long he's been trapped there. as per usual, will brings breakfast down into the cellar for him. but this time around, there's something different about him. as he sets the plate on the floor, he promises a surprise for the boy.

bryce holds out hope that this will be his chance to escape. so, for the rest of the day, he's excited.

that is, until william arrives in the basement once more. he's dragging something behind him, and it thuds heavily against the stairs with every step.

he pulls it into bryce's view. and simply informs him that it's his rotten father, drugged up and stuffed inside a body bag. and that it's going to be his responsibility to kill him.

"i only thought it would be fitting for him to be your first." without another word, he unzips the bag and drops a knife into the kid's hands.

simply put, in that moment, something inside bryce snaps. the sight of his abuser's face, the weight of the knife in his hand (perhaps something to do with being kidnapped for several months, too)... when he finally comes to, he's hunched over what used to be his father, staring deadpan into a face so badly mutilated he can't distinguish its features anymore. will's hand clasps over his shoulder, and from that moment on, bryce is his apprentice, intended to continue his work after william eventually dies.

after this, things get a little hazy... at some point, vanessa (who is jeremy's daughter, around 5 years younger than bryce) moves into the afton house. this is the first time bryce has been around someone he has ANY sort of power dynamic over, and needless to say he takes advantage of it.

kid's got issues. like, major emotional regulation issues. take one look at william and tell me he knows how to raise a healthy child, especially one he's forcing to kill people. this should be a no brainer.

finally having the upper hand for once in his pathetic miserable life, he proceeds to torment the shit out of vanny. just, in every way imaginable. this is around the time he's going through puberty, and he is just full of teenage testosterone rage. maybe he's just mad he thinks she's cute. i dunno. this sort of plants the seed of a full-blown obsession with vanny, though.

things are majorly fuzzy for a lot of the time after, but he bulks up a lot and grows to be a Very Large Adult Man. he goes a little awol after will's "death" and leaves home to continue his work elsewhere. but he DOES dedicate a lot of his spare time to tracking down and stalking vanessa. puppy love that never went away i suppose.

aaaanndd that's all i have the energy to talk about! whew!!! if you made it this far thank you for reading i love you ahaha

[topgunruinedme]

Daggers Daycare||o.6

Synopsis: Maverick finds himself in a situation he cant explain. The daggers are unavailable, and he finds himself in need of help from his old crew. Of cause this wasn’t the reunion they expected.

“Did you kidnap an orphanage Mav?”

Warning: age regression (they get turned into children), slight whump mostly fluff, slight swearing, homophobia and 5 idiots with no knowledge on kids caring for some.

Word Count: 2.8k

Read on Ao3

Previous chapters: Chapter||o.1, Chapter||o.2, Chapter||o.3, Chapter||o.4, Chapter||o.5.

Note: I'm self beta-ing this chapter.

Secondary Notes: Hello everyone, I'm leaving this important note to notify you all that I will be posting less in the next few month, as I will be returning to school . My weekly posting will now be once a moth, this means that I will only post an update to each book every month (don't worry this does not mean only one update per month but rather one update per book). Thank you for understanding.

Spanish translation: Buccaneer- Pirate.

Javy believes that Jake is a pirate who will rule the sea, this is mainly just a Drabble of children’s imagination.

//

There was a faint pounding in his head as a headache attempted to sneak up on him, Ice scribbled down a number onto the paper as he moved through the display aisle. The trolley squealed as he shifted it to the side, it made a soft thud as it nudged into one of the displays. A light blue cot that had a canopy and a mobile of animals, Ice grimaced. It was way over decorated, it was a place to sleep not a throne. Would the sheer drapes from the canopy strangle the child? Wasn't that dangerous?

“So why are we here again?” Wolf asked, lounging  back against one of the giant teddy's in the bed section. He had somehow managed to find three of them and had collected them and created a bed for himself. 

Ice sighed insufferably, “Wolf” he gritted his teeth, “For the fifth time, were marking them down to be delivered”. He rubbed his face tiredly, why had he been so confident in taking Wolf? Why hasn't he taken Slider? At least then the man would have helped him, Wolf whined far too much. 

He should have remembered that from his wedding when the man had complained that Ice had been leaving them for a hot chick, the man had whined for hours and then cried at his wedding.

The man who had made him promise that night to not stray too far away in marriage life. Too bad he had broken that promise too. If he had known that night that it would have been the last time he saw them for years. The suffering and all the struggles he would go through alone, too afraid to reach out to them. Too ashamed to reach out for help with his failing marriage, he wouldn't have gone. He would have claimed to have cold feet and he would have ran. 

“Why can't we just get them now?” Wolf whined, pulling the arm of the teddy bear over his eyes dramatically. The man had dropped there after he decided Ice had been taking too long to look over the section of Cot’s. 

He had since moved on to toddler beds and mattresses, carefully marking down the names on the chosen items on a small piece of paper and small pencil; that he had snagged from one of the dispensers from the display. 

“Because they wouldn't all fit in your van. We have more stuff to get, oh and we don’t have a place to put them yet”.

Wolf flushed as Ice dragged his hand across his face tiredly rubbing his eyes, “I’m almost done alright? Then we'll move on”.  

The man grumbled slightly before pressing back into the bear and scrolling on his phone muttering about it being the ‘worst shopping trip ever’.

Dear lord, he hoped children were easier to deal with then Wolf. 

//

Maverick looked down tirelessly when someone tugged on his jeans, they were looser at the bottom apparently. He stared down at Natasha, she was holding Bob’s hand who looked half asleep still. 

“Yes Nat?” he looked up to glance around, Wood had disappeared he could hear Slider and Wood arguing in the kitchen. He frowned before glancing back down at her, Bob blinked slowly at him there was an imprint of his glasses on his face from where he had been sleeping on them. 

She frowned at him, “I’m hungary, Bob needs to eat” she said firmly tugging the smaller boy forward, he was tugging the large blanket behind them, it was clutched in his fist as the boy rubbed it against his face with a small whine.

A tactile child then, they would need soft blankets for him. Maverick tried to think if they had any in his house, he doubted it. Mickey had dropped slime on the only one he could think of last week. It had been thrown out an hour later. Apparently slimes really had to get out of stuff.  

Bob grimaced as he pulled the blanket away, his lip trembling, Mavericks eyes widened in panic. Sure he had dealt with Bradley crying but that was nearly two decades ago, he had seen Wood do it with Reuben earlier. But this was Bob. 

If he stuffed up Bob of all people, he would have everyone after him. He didn't want to be the one responsible for accidentally ruining him. The boy was too innocent for this world.  

“Slider” he called out nervously his eyes not leaving Bobs as the boy pulling the blanket closer letting natasha pull it around him to keep him warm but refusing to let it touch his skin, pulling away with a small whine when she attempted to push the fabric against his face in a mimic of what Maverick assumed was a stress prevention. A coping mechanism that had re-emerged due to the sudden situation. 

“Busy pipsqueak” Slider called back as he started to hassle Wood about…Oven temperatures? They were fighting over an oven? Why the hell was no one helping him?

“Hungry kids” he called as he stepped away from them wearily, “They might start snapping at your ankles if you don't make them something soon” he said nervously. 

Natasha seemed to be getting more stressed the more distressed Bob became. Frowning heavily as she attempted to help the tactile child. Bradley had been clingy but he had never been tactile. This wasn't his area of expertise. 

His eyes darted around nervous at the rest of the kids. They would be fine if he left them alone for a minute right? They were old enough to know right from wrongs? Right?

He gave them a slightly concerned glance before carefully stepping around them, giving the toddler a wide breadth. Once he had safely retreated to the other side of the room ignoring Bob's pouty but slightly confused glance. 

He slipped out of the room scrambling to his bedroom, pulling the old basket out of the top of his closet. He dumped it all out on the bed hoping to find a softer blanket. He had dumped all of the things from the house in this box. All the blankets Carol owned. 

His hand paused over the baby blue of Bradley’s baby blanket, his fingers trailing over his name and date of birth with a small smile.

He blinked back the tears and pushed past it, placing it carefully to the side as he looked deeper into the box. He had to have something here. Carole could have owned a blanket store with the amount she owned. He could have sworn there had been another box somewhere. 

He groaned in frustration as he tipped the box fully when his eyes caught an emerald green blanket, he dropped the basket in an attempt to catch it.

The soft fabric settled in his hand, he remembered this. Faintly. It had been a gift to Bradley from Goose, it was when they had been on a 8 month deployment. But Bradley had hated it for the moment he spotted it, resulting in it being buried deep in the basket. He ran his hand over the fabric absently bringing it to his cheek to rub against his skin he closed his eyes and let out a calm breath.

It was soft, perfectly so. Not a single stiff patch to find. Bob would love it, he didn’t bother 

repacking the blankets as he retreated to the main room blanket safely in his hand.

Bob was hiccuping tears sliding down his rosy cheeks as he stomped his foot, Slider was standing in front of the toddler on the edge of a melt down looking panicked. He was staring at Bob wide eyed looking terrified. The man’s head shot up to him when he entered “Where have you been?”

“Getting this” Mav shoved the blanket off and Bob looked at it curiously. His cheeks were flushed red as the tears trailed down them, his eyes were slightly swollen and his classes were fogged up.he breathed in shakily in a half breath that made Mav frown in concern, it sounded wet. It shouldn't be like that. The boy sounded slightly congested. 

He chuckled lightly, kneeling down next to him, “Here you go. That’s better isn’t it?” He smiled as Bob took the blanket in replacement as his abandoned one, pulling it close to his face.

Maverick winced as Bob whipped his face with his dieting it with snot. “Oh no let us-“ he paused at the look Bob gave him, he backed off slightly “No. It’s ok, I’m not going to take it from you” he sighed.

Gently reaching out to take Bob’s glasses, they would need to get them resized, or at least a new pair. He rubbed the lenses with the bottom of his shirt silently tememind himself to get a proper glasses cleaner rag so he didn’t risk damaging the lenses.

He placed the loose but now clean lenses on the boy's face watching him blink and smile slightly at the color of the blanket.

“You like green?”.

Bob nodded slightly pulling Nat closer to rub the blanket on her skin. She sat silently watching, letting him, content as long as he was happy. 

“I like green too,” he said softly with a smile, not noticing that Slider had abandoned him once again to return to the kitchen. He didn’t notice the small smile Wood had as he ducked his head out to look. The two men gave him time to connect with his kids.

They were still the daggers, he reminded himself. They were just smaller now. Younger. More sensitive.

No more war stories, he decided. He didn’t want to be at the end of Goose's unhappy scowl. These kids may not have a Goose but they sure as hell had an Ice. He was far more terrifying. 

Did you notice anything wrong with him? He seemed different. Distant. Woods' concern echoed through his head. 

He worried his lip between his teeth, it had been a while. It had been a while since he had seen Ice in person,the man preferred to talk over messages or call and even then they were short and curt. Recently the man hadn't been answering at all, taking weeks for a simple good morning message. 

Was something going on?

//

Wolf grinned around the pacifier, he wiggled his eyebrows at Ice. “They really do taste like nipples, we should get some of these for home”. 

Ice ran a tried hand down his face “Get that out of your mouth before someone sees you”. He turned his attention back to the row of bottles, would they already be weaned of them? 

His eyes narrowed when Wolf became suspiciously quiet. The man couldn’t shut up a minute ago. “Put it back,” he snapped at the man without turning. 

He heard an annoyed huff of breath and then the tell tale sign of shoving being shoved back into the shelf. Wolf pushed his trolley past pouting as he muttered to himself. 

Ice wearily turned back to the aisle he rolled his eyes at the sight of a box filled with pacifiers shoved onto the shelf hastily. This had to be worse than shopping with a toddler. 

He wasn't sure what he had expected, bringing the man into a shop like this, a place that literally had the word nipple on every box.

It was like asking for a terrible dad joke. He thought he would have been safe due to the man's horribly hidden homosexuality.

Unfortunately that didn't prevent the man from taking every opportunity to make Ice regret bringing him. 

//

Slider yawned as he laid his head on his hand heavily against the kitchen table, keeping one eye on the kids. Maverick had dozed off on the couch half an hour ago, since Rueben, Bradley and Mickey had joined him in some odd puppy pile. The three boys are sleeping around the man. 

Wood shook his head in amusement sharing a small grin with Slider who tiredly gave him a lazy wave, looking close to nodding off himself. They were not young anymore, not as much as they were. 

Wood checked the oven, studying the potato gems carefully before turning off the oven and pulling them out, careful not to burn himself using the tea towels to place the tray on the cutting board on the bench. Slapping Slider’s hand away from the hot food as he shut the oven door. 

He heard yelp and a spluttered cure from behind him and sighed, “It's hot” he said dryly. 

Why did Mav even have potato gems in his freezer to begin with, he was an adult?

He heard small feet run on the ground and gave Slider a meaningful look, the man sighed before walking off to investigate the  sound. Wood placed the hot food into four separate bowls for the kids, some of them could share.

He squinted when he saw Slider walking around with a large grin on his face, dear lord what did he do now?

There was something hanging off of Slider's arm. The man had it flexed out like a monkey bar, was that? No. That couldn't be Bradley. Wasn't he asleep just moments ago? If Slider woke the kid just so hee had someone to play with he was going to murder someone. A 6ft tall someone. 

He had forgotten how energetic Bradley used to be at this age. 

Slider was walking around with a kid hanging off him. Wood squinted was that Bradley? Dear lord, he had forgotten how energetic the kid used to be. 

He rolled his eyes, nothing he could do about it now, he’ll just rat the man out to Ice when he got back. He wondered how they were going, if they were having any better luck then they were here. At least Ice got Wolf, if only he could trade Slider or Mav for Wolf, then he would have someone useful as well as an eye candy to look at. 

Once he was confident the food wasn’t too hot he carefully balanced three bowls in his arms as he started distributing them. Placing a bowl in front of Natasha and Bob who had curled up in his blanket looking somewhat like a burrito and yet had somehow managed to drape some of the blanket over Natasha’s lap. She looked oddly possessive over the corner of the blanket she had been given. He steered clear of it as he dropped a bowl off with Bradley who barely wasted any time rushing over at the promise of food, abandoning Slider who pouted at the loss of play partner. 

He placed a bowl with Reubon who was sitting just in front of the other group of boys playing with the cards that had been left by some trying to spread them as far across the floor as he could. 

He dreaded having to find them all later, he placed the last bowl in front of Jake and Javy, leaving some space between them due to Javys critical gaze. They didn't trust them, he knew that. He didn't want to provoke them. He nodded his head over to Reuben when Mickey frowned.  

Jake was flipping through a book, he wasn't sure where the boy had gotten it from, but Javy seemed content pressing buttons on the remote randomly until it hit the children's channel. The boy stared at it nudging Jake who scrowled before sitting and watching with him passing the book off to Micky who beamed at the boy. 

The two boys happily eat the food in front of them watching the cartoon as Mickey flipped through the book occasionally, waving his hands in Jake's face who leaned back with a troubled look when the boy attempted to get his attention and started babbling at him.

When Jake made no attempt to talk back to him he frowned, and got up to get food from his shared bowl with Reuben before sitting back over with Jake trying to communicate by pushing the book between them pointing at the boat on the page. 

“Bakaner- Bakeneer” Mickey screwed his face up in frustration as he butchered the world.

Slider turned to look at him in confusion, dragging his phone in an attempt to figure out what the boy was saying. 

“Backaner” Mickey huffed jabbing the book beige pointing at Jake. Jake tilted his head silently watching the boy. 

Slider let out a laugh of amusement, “Buccaneer” he attempted to pronounce, apparently well enough that Mickey cheered. 

Vibrating in experiment as he pointed to Jake and the ship “Bukaner! Bankener!”.

Slider shook his head, “No, no bud, he's not a pirate. No Buccaneer”. 

Mickey stared him down determinedly pointing at Jake, “Bukaner!” He said firmly, crossing his arms.

Slider smiled, relenting “Ok Jake is Buccaneer” he huffed. 

Mickey beamed in excitement, “Jake. Bukaner! Bukaner steal! Rich!” he wiggled in excitement. 

Slider's eyes widened. “Wait no-'' he groaned at the annoyed look Wood gave him. “Look” he tried to defend himself “You went much of a help either”.

[nityarawal]

3/30/24

Martha's Kitchen

Morning Songs

I Didn't Do A

Morning Song

Yesterday

Succumbed

To Martha's Kitchen

Invite

Wayward Schedules

Been Promised

New Clothes

For Many Years

At Revivals

Finally Went

Even Though My

Case Manager

Allejandro

Forgot Voucher

Gay Man Offered

Me A Bikini

Then Took It Away

At Revivals

Didn't Want Me

In Anything Too Pretty

Just Mens T Shirts 

And Men's Underwear

New Socks

For Men

Don't Take New Red Feragamo Jacket

Donation

From US

Even Though Nice Lady

Was Practically

Offering

But I'm The Charity

Project

Finally Found

A Few Dresses

Tried Them On

Thought They Could

Pass As Tops

By A Couch

Gay Bald Hosts

Said No

Hurry Up

Close Out

Done With You

My Love

No

Mirrors

But Finally A Lady

Sent Me To The Back

Vanities For Sale

Where I Could See

The Plaid

Rachel Zoe Jacket

Try On Dresses

In Front Of A Reflection

Such A Privilege

To See Ones

Real Image

Nowadays

Most Memed

IEHP

Never Gave

Me Mirrors

Don't You Want To 

Call Them

Asked My Nurse

Caitlin

Thursday At Urgent Care

No I'm Rather

Scared

Don't You Want To

Call Them

No I Have A Trunk

Of Junk Mail

From Them

Denying Grievances

Murders Hidden

Sign Over Your Lives

To Us

If Not Elon Musk

Your Kids

Rapunzel Trans

Gremlins

Demand

The Bottom Feeders

Want You

The Feds

Doje Daytraders

Gay Cartel

Lawyers

And Trans

Militia

Cast You

Addicted To Crystal Meth

Obedient Feloned Hookers

Heroin Addicts

Don't You Want 

Some Condoms From

Dabs

Jewish Family Services

Aids Queries

Probability

High

In Desert

Advertise A Gay

Man With Aids

Get A House

In A Month

If You Survive

Host A 'Lie-In'

At Martha's Kitchen

Easter Weekend

Only 3 Outhouses

Hundreds Sardined 

Indoors Waiting

For Sunshine And Fresh Air

Like A YMCA

Hostage

Suitcases Everywhere

End Of Busline

Now Loitering

A Crime

No Double Dipping 

Waspy Blondes Repremend

Denying Food

As If We're Vampires

Only To Traffic 

With Condoms

Stealing Another Kid

Don't You Want Your

Babies To Have Their

Own Boy-Toys

Transed

Geriatric Elon

In Diapers

Like Biden Boys'

Second Gentlemen 

Do You Want Us

To Sing About

Raucous

Fraternity Parties

At Tesla

The Hookers Were 

Hot

From Vegas

Until STD Tested

The Diseases Were

Not

And No One Wants

A Little Girl

Cyborging Them

Dumb

Neuralinked

Incompetent

The New 'Big Pharma'

Political

Plea Bargain

Tethered To TV

24/7

Were The Hookers

Hot

The Diseases Are Not

And There's A Price

Tag For My Attys'

A**

Tesla Forgot

To Pay

There's A Price Tag

On My Atty's

A**

Lexus Lemon

Still Payin'

Deep Gifts Keep 

Given'

Every Time Beyonce

Sings "Texas Hold 'Em,"

Lexus Lemon

Forgot To Scour

Away

Master Cleanse

There's A Price Tag

On My Atty's

Fabulous A**

And We Want 

Her Hair Dark

As Irany Queen's

Are Coming Back

We Want North

Saint And Psalm

For A Easter 

Picnicking

Camping Trip Mom

Anjali And Isha 

Want A Playdate

Today

X Is Demanding

My Family Come

Stay

Leprochauns Arrive

Menahune

St. Patrick's Day

Desert Side 

Rainbows Are Here

But Where's 

My Cybertruck 

Elon's

Refunds 

Where's My Fiance

Where's Elon's Hearty

Laugh

What Did You Do

With My Loves'

Got A Date For

Kimmy

But We Got To See

If He's Free

He's Very Very

Beautiful

And Being Trafficked

By Lesbians

You See

Like Elon-June

And Kardashians'

Under Trans

Branding

Bruce-Caitlyn

With Lou

Taylor

Like Elon-June

You See

Lex Friedman

Doesn't Dare

Complain

Six Hookers

He Has To Service

Pimping Him

Like A Piece Of

Physics Pie

For Atty Crimes

Physicists

Plea Bargains

Bros Bribes

Tech Compliant

Actors

Pimping Him

For Attys Crimes

Hunters

Boys' Don't Cry

Boys' Won't Cry

But Please Mamma

Stop The Abuse

For Kanye

And My Son's

Brothers Knights

Beloveds

Can't Take This

Spin Dr. Abuse

100 Men Per Room

Drugged Sick Drooling

Waiting

For Divindends

Martha's Manager

Priscilla

Says Why Don't 

You Try Riverside

Healthcare

Because They're The 

Ones

Mass Murderin'

Moms'

Why Don't You Try

Riverside Healthcare

System

Because They're Raping

Moms'

Kidnapping Kids'

Stealing Cars'

And Breaking 

Bridges'

With IEHP

Big Pharma

Covid Centers 

Preventing CARS

Recycling

In America

To Moms'

For Easter

Dr. Lemon

Go Interview

Dr. Singh

And All His Nurses

At Moreno Valley

Hospital

And Tell Me How

The Sheriff

Justifies Mass Murders

Casualties

Headhunting Advertisers

And Social Media

DJs

Presenters

Singers

Writers

For Google

Tech Apple

AI

Car Competitions

Trafficking

Moms'

Physicists'

Kids'

Rewind Doje Cons'

Peace

Rewind AI

Failed

System

Closed

Merci

Peace

Bond-Moms

Peace,

Nitya Nella Davigo Azam Moezzi Huntley Rawal 

[teyvatdreams]

reuniting with them — inazuma edition

includes: yoimiya, thoma, ayaka, and kazuha

yoimiya

your absence from inazuma was felt by everyone. you were practically yoimiya’s other half — she was never seen running around taking and delivering orders without you by her side.

you left at the worst time. you only planned to leave inazuma for a few weeks. you were visiting liyue for business reasons. it was hard enough to leave for that long, but during that time, the country went on lockdown. no one in, no one out.

you were worried sick. you didn’t know what was happening in inazuma. you wanted nothing more than to be by yoimiya’s side.

it felt like years before you finally managed to go back. beidou offered to take you there, and after an annoyingly long process, you were finally able to get back to inazuman life. although now, things were a lot more tense.

as soon as you had the chance, you went to yoimiya’s home. as expected, she wasn’t home, but you took the chance to talk (or yell) to her father.

“(y/n)?” you hear her familiar voice behind you.

you turn to look at her. she drops everything in her hands and runs to where you’re standing, throwing her arms around you. “(y/n)!” she repeats.

“yoimiya…” is all you can manage to say as you hug her. you were overwhelmed with emotions. “i’m back.”

“i thought i’d never see you again!” she cries. “i mean… i knew i would… but sometimes it felt like you were never gonna come back!”

“i’m never gonna leave your side again, promise.” you whisper.

thoma

you had discovered that thoma had been kidnapped and that his vision was going to be seized through ayaka. she had appeared at the tea house, visibly shaken, and told you what was happening. it was risky for either of you to interfere, and even though you wanted to, you let the traveler take care of it. they were more than capable.

you were a nervous wreck the entire time. so many things could go wrong. if either thoma or the traveler got hurt you would never forgive yourself for not stepping in.

you wanted to join ayaka in finding a safe haven for thoma after his escape, but the shirasagi himegimi said it was too risky for both of you to do so. you knew she was right, but it was still driving you crazy to not know if he was okay.

a week later, you were en route to the tea house per ayaka’s request when someone suddenly grabbed you, pulling you behind a nearby building. you didn’t even have time to alarm anyone before you realized who it was.

“thoma?” you breathe.

“i’m sorry,” he says quickly, gently pulling you closer to him. “but i have to sneak around right now… but i couldn’t stand to be away from you any longer.”

you wrap your arms around him. “i’m so glad you’re okay.” you whisper.

he rubs your back, holding you tighter than ever before. “all thanks to the traveler, i am…” he sighs. “i’ll have to go back into hiding. i’ll tell ayaka to let you know where i’m hidden.”

he lets you go and you look into his eyes. they looked tired. you grab his hand. “i love you, thoma.”

he smiles. “i love you too.”

ayaka

you were ayaka’s best friend. maybe even her only friend. but that gave you plenty of time to be with her. you spent nearly every day together, traveling around inazuma. you’d get food together, you’d watch her gracefully dance whenever she felt the urge, you helped ayaka feel normal. you made her feel loved.

leaving inazuma after the vision hunt decree began was one of the hardest things you did. but inazuma was turning into something you didn’t like. something strange. something not even your relationship with ayaka could make better.

so you left one night, leaving behind a note telling her where you were going. the guilt weighing on your shoulders was almost unbearable. as you traveled farther and farther away from your home, you wished you could turn around and run back to her.

you spent a few months in mondstadt, a nation you had always wanted to visit. it was wonderful. it was free. but everyday you wished ayaka was with you. so after those months, you returned to inazuma with thoma’s help.

you were still nervous about seeing ayaka again. thoma told you countless times that ayaka wasn’t angry with you. he said that she respected your decision and was envious of your courage.

you hoped he couldn’t sense your nervous, ragged breathing and the shaking of your hands as you entered the tea house.

awaiting your arrival, ayaka was right by the door, accompanied by taorumaru who didn’t even bark at you despite you being gone for months.

ayaka smiles. “welcome home.”

kazuha

kazuha was brave. he was strong. ever since he had fled from inazuma, you missed him dearly. you didn’t get the chance to say goodbye. everything happened so suddenly. you didn’t know how to even begin looking for him.

so instead, you decided to fight for what he believed in. you proved yourself as a capable soldier to general gorou, and quickly climbed the ranks in the sangonomiya resistance.

you were on the front lines when kujou sara arrived with her troops, searching for the blonde traveler who had faced off against the raiden shogun one on one. it wasn’t long before fighting began. you slashed through the shogun’s men with ease.

you turn to slash someone with your sword, but stop in your tracks when you’re met with a familiar face.

“side by side once again,” kazuha states, smiling softly. “how it always should be.”

you can’t help but laugh at his sudden appearance, and you put your back against his to protect him from the oncoming soldiers. “like always, kaedehara kazuha’s bravery doesn’t falter.” you point out.

[tomurasprincess]

Okay but have you ever considered Yandere Hawks going into rut and kidnapping his poor, overworked secretary, taking them home to his lovely nest, and breeding them. I mean, come on, it's spring. If they didn't want to be Keigo's breeding bitch then why did they stick around for so long? 🤔 None of the other secretaries cared enough to last this long. Clearly their still at his agency because they L O V E him~ 😏 Won't they just be so pleased to carry his hatchlings and be his pretty mate? 🥵🙏

Warnings: Noncon, oviposition, forced breeding, forced orgasms, mating rut, kidnapping, drugging, yandere Note: Sorry this took so long to fill, but uhhh...I went crazy with it and this is a 1.2k monster of a mini fic. 😂

When you wake up, it takes you several seconds to realize exactly what happened. You were working overtime as per usual when your boss Hawks came in. His pupils were full blown, sweat dripping from his body like he had just run miles, and he couldn’t seem to stop shaking.

You didn’t realize the danger until it was too late and he had you in his arms, pressing a sweet smelling cloth to your mouth and holding you until you passed out. And now, you’re tied to a bed naked, legs spread wide as an even more feral looking Hawks stares at you with hunger in his eyes.

“My pretty little bird,” he whispers as he climbs into bed with you. “You’re finally awake. I didn’t want to do this while you were unconscious, that makes it no fun at all for either of us.”

“Hawks, what is the meaning of this?” You try to sound calm, rational to try and talk some sense into him. “You need to let me go.”

“Why would I do that?” He slips up your body, slotting himself in between your thighs and grinding the bulge in the front of his pants against you. The rough fabric of his jeans pushes against your clit, and you let out a soft gasp. “See? You want this.”

“Whatever this is, no I don’t want it!” You snap at him, but instead of looking angry, the corners of his lips turns up into a smile.

“Of course you do, pretty bird. It’s breeding season for me, and you stayed around like a good little bird. You wanted to be bred by me, filled up with my hatchlings until you’re big and round.”

Your eyes widen in horror. “What - no, I don’t -”

You had heard rumors of Hawks, speculation on just how bird-like the number two hero truly was. But you had no idea of this, not even an inkling. “Your breeding season?” You ask hesitantly.”

“I’m in a rut.” And then he’s unzipping his pants, pulling them off and revealing a truly large, impressive cock that’s already rock hard. “And I can’t wait, my baby bird. I need to be inside of you, need to breed you until you can’t handle any more of my eggs.”

“Eggs? No no no, Hawks, please think about this - “

But he doesn’t answer, sheathing himself inside of your unprepared pussy in one firm snap of his hips. You whine at the painful stretch of your tight muscles around his length, and tears form at the corner of your eyes that he promptly kisses away.

“Shh, it’s okay, you’ll feel good in no time,” he coos at you as he begins to thrust. “Fuck, you’re so tight - you were saving yourself just for me, weren’t you? Of course you were.”

You begin to argue, but then you feel something at the entrance of your pussy, trying to force its way in. He said eggs, you remind yourself with dawning horror, that must be an egg -

“Hawks please, please think about this! I don’t want this!”

“Yes you do, little bird,” he grunts out, as he begins to make sharp, shallow thrusts into you as the egg forces your pussy to stretch even further. “You wouldn’t have stayed if you didn’t want this.”

You scream as the egg enters you and he fucks it up into your pussy with more sharp thrusts. You feel it press against your g-spot, and your eyes roll into the back of your head as you cum hard around it. 

“See? I knew it, you fucking wanted this. You cumming around my eggs is so fucking hot, baby bird,” he groans out as he fucks the egg up into you. He reaches the barrier of your cervix, pausing for one second as he reassures you. 

“This will hurt at first,” he admits, “but then it’ll feel good. And it will all be worth it when we have our precious hatchlings.” And then he gives one massive thrust as he forces your cervix open.

The blinding pain takes your breath away, the feeling of the egg pushing past into your womb agonizing. You feel a pop as your cervix gives way, and then the egg is filling up your once empty womb. Suddenly your body is on fire, pussy gushing liquid around his cock as more eggs push inside of you easily now that you’re more stretched open.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” you mindlessly babble as the eggs move along your walls, pressing hard against them and causing more orgasms to wrack your body. “Oh fuck, Hawks, oh god, it feels so good - I can’t - “

“Keigo,” he corrects you, “call me Keigo, my beautiful mate, the mother of my children.” He presses against your stomach, rolling the egg around in your tummy and causing you to scream from the sheer pleasure.

More eggs plop into your womb along with the other, and your belly begins to swell and stretch and you’re only able to lay there limply as your body is wracked with more orgasms. “Please, no more,” you whimper pathetically, Keigo, it’s too much - ‘

“Shh, this is the last one, I promise,” he whispers to you, forcing one more egg through your wide open cervix. You glance down at your belly, shocked to see that you look 9 months pregnant already. You can see the outline of the eggs, and you marvel at it for a second before you reach down to touch one.

You give a broken moan as you feel the eggs inside of you, realizing that maybe he was right - isn’t this what you were made for? To be bred and full of eggs? It’s not so bad, you think, and in fact it feels amazing. How were you able to live, being so empty before?

“I knew it,” he smiles happily, “you realize this is what you were meant for.” He begins to thrust again, several sharp movements before he’s cumming against your cervix, shooting hot ropes of cum directly into your womb to fertilize the eggs.

He lifts your hips up, keeping his cock snugly inside of you until your cervix closes again, ensuring that no eggs slip out and all of his cum stays inside of you.

He picks you up gently, placing you in a large ring of pillows and blankets before tucking you in. “This is your nest, little bird. You’ll stay here until the eggs are ready to hatch, okay? Don’t strain yourself, you’re so delicate right now.”

You wouldn’t be able to move much even if you wanted to, you realize. Your belly feels so heavy and full, and you’re unbelievably sleepy. But before you pass out, you hear your mate distantly say something.

“We’re going to be such a happy family, baby bird.”

[unmitigatedsuperiority]

A Not-So Claustrophobic Christmas

Summary: What happens when two FBI agents get stuck in Quantico on Christmas day? Deep conversations, new Christmas traditions, and perhaps an appreciation for the faulty mechanics of elevators.

Pairing: Luke Alvez x Spencer Reid

Word count: 7.1k

Category: Hurt/comfort

Rating: T

Warnings: Talks of PTSD and trauma, Referenced drug use, Referenced torture, Referenced homophobia and Catholic guilt, Confined spaces

Read it on Ao3

Cards (Prompts): Fountain (Season 13-14), Medal (Trapped Together), Morgan (Prompt 1: "I didn't think you had that in you.")

This fic is for @reidslibrarybook's 1k celebration! Congrats, Nat!

-

Spencer Reid knew two things: he didn’t have any Christmas traditions, and he wasn’t afraid of elevators.

See, when the team got the call that they’d have to spend their Christmas working a case, no one was particularly overjoyed. But Spencer, who had never really done much for the holiday anyway, was perfectly content as he rode up in the Quantico elevator to greet his teammates and get to work on the latest case. In his mind, there were little qualms to be had.

In addition to being okay with working on Christmas, Spencer Reid was also perfectly content taking the elevator to the seventh floor, as he did every day. Despite all the facts and statistics in his head about elevator-related deaths (30 per year) and injuries (17,000 per year), he knew, logically, that elevators were quite safe. Knew for a fact that this particular elevator was quite safe; it had been inspected within the last six months, after all. This wasn’t some rickety old thing that he was going to get stuck in. Quantico was a safe place. It was safe here. It was going to be just another day of work, another trip in the elevator. The only difference being the holiday. Statistically, Spencer knew everything was going to happen exactly as expected. Business as usual.

Now, if Spencer had watched any cliché Christmas movie like the many Luke was familiar with, he would’ve known that nothing ever goes according to plan on Christmas.

The day had begun with an intense case. A kidnapping, local. Tension accented every step, every breath. Spencer wasn’t special here; they all knew the reality of the situation. What was at stake. The fact that they didn’t have to travel out of state only meant that they could save those few precious hours for more productive work. Luckily, it only took around half a day before they had a promising lead that resulted in the team rushing out of the building to help on the ground. Even Penelope had left the safety of Quantico. Everyone was scattered around the greater D.C. area while Spencer stayed back to work on the geographical profile. Well, nearly everyone. Luke had also stayed back to help go through all the evidence they had.

Spencer liked Luke; he really did. Despite their lack of closeness, there was an inherent familiarity between them. A sense of comfort. But right now? Spencer couldn’t help but feel as though he was being babysat. Did they really both need to be stuck back at Quantico right now? Luke probably wanted to get this case over with like all his other teammates, anyway. He seemed like the type to have Christmas traditions, regular yearly plans. Spencer looked over at the man plaguing his thoughts and felt a chill run through him at the sight. Feelings of claustrophobia, maybe. He didn’t need someone else distracting him from his work.

“Reid, look at this,” Luke spoke up suddenly, piles of papers strewn in front of him. Spencer got up to the other side of the round table, leaned over to inspect what Luke had found. As the two discussed the discrepancies in location and evidence, a warm magnetism passed through them, pulling each of the agents closer and closer together. As they got into a flow in their own investigation, their shoulders hunched forward over the work in front of them, brushed against each other. At that touch, a spark of an idea made Spencer shoot upright and take out his phone. It just so happened that someone else distracting him from his work was exactly what he needed.

“Hey, Prentiss, we’ve got something,” He greeted as he began to spew facts at Emily on the other line. They’d done it. The breakthrough in the case. Luke unconsciously puffed his chest as the other man excitedly described their revelation. Soon, they’d all be on the ground, saving the victim, arresting the UnSub, and getting back home in time for delayed Christmas celebrations. Luke, for one, couldn’t wait.

Spencer tried to relay as much useful information as he could before Emily was requesting they both meet up with the rest of the team to assist with the case on the ground. As he listened to the address and instructions, he motioned for Luke to come with him, mouthing Let’s go as he did. The pair walked out and towards the exit, Spencer in front and Luke in tow, ready for what lay ahead.

“Okay, Alvez and I are leaving now,” Spencer let Emily know before hanging up and tapping the elevator button a few times in rapid succession. He could hear Luke approach from behind. Years on the fugitive task force allowed him a quiet kind of gracefulness that Spencer could appreciate. A softness around rough edges. He risked a glance at the other agent. Luke was staring up at the elevator with a gentle determination set across his features. Spencer understood the feeling. Before he could dwell on it though, the elevator arrived, opening its doors and welcoming its new occupants into the shiny room. The pair hurried in, and Spencer hit the button for the garage as the doors closed.

“I’ll drive,” Luke spoke, slicing through the tension that came with cases like these. Urgency like this. The steady drop of the elevator did nothing to help.

“Sounds good,” Spencer responded. He thought over everything he’d just gone over in the case. Of the next steps waiting on site. The two watched the numbers tick down as the elevator descended. 7…6…5…4…

Creeeeeeeak.

Well, that couldn’t have been good.

Spencer stilled, listening for the tell-tale sound of the elevator whirring, felt for the sinking motion that came along with descending to the ground level. Nothing. Luke looked around.

“Uh…Reid?” He spoke slowly, carefully, before placing his hands on his hips. “I think we’re stuck.”

Spencer looked around before sighing in agreement. “We are.” Luke nodded, taking in the situation before him.

“So, how long do you think we’ll be in this thing?” Luke inquired, shuffling his feet as he turned toward the other man.

“30 minutes,” Spencer replied without hesitation. Luke huffed a laugh.

“Damn, you really just knew that, huh?”

“Well, that’s the average amount of time most elevator entrapment cases last before help arrives. However, I believe most people are gone for the night and it is a holiday so that may impact things a bit.” Spencer turned toward him as he explained.

“What’s ‘a bit’?” Luke asked.

“A few hours, maybe.”

Luke groaned before leaning back against the cool, metal railing of the elevator carriage. May as well get comfortable if it was going to be a while. He took out his phone to provide an update of the situation.

“Hey, Prentiss, it’s Luke.” He listened to Emily’s quick greeting before describing the predicament at hand. “Yeah, Reid and I are currently stuck in the elevator at Quantico. We’re okay, but it could be a while before we’re out of here.” Spencer looked at him. “I’m going to pass you to Reid so he can update you on the situation,” Luke added, leaning forward to hand Spencer his phone. Spencer took the cell, quickly relaying pertinent information about the case to their unit chief. After he had said all that he needed to, he inquired into the reality at hand.

“Can Garcia do anything?” Spencer put the phone on speaker just in time for Emily’s apologetic words.

“Sorry, guys. She says it’s not a problem she can solve – not for lack of trying, of course.” The two men nodded.

“Yeah,” Spencer sighed, pulling the help lever on the panel in front of him. “It was worth a shot. We’ll wait for help. Well, you know where we’ll be in the meantime. At least we have service.”

“Of course, I’ll text you both updates on the case. Stay safe,” Emily added.

“You, too,” Luke replied as Spencer handed off the phone. He ended the call and pocketed the device, resting his head against the wall, hands gripping the railing behind him. The two stood there for a moment, mentally shaking out all the excess energy they had from the urgent case. Trying to let go of their Plan A.

“The FBI can’t get an elevator working,” Luke laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. “Guess in case of emergency most people just take the stairs.”

“Not even the federal government is exempt from bureaucratic incompetence,” Spencer joked. Luke harked a deep laugh at that.

“Oh, they invented it,” Luke added, thinking about all the paperwork and red tape he went through last week. Spencer smiled, propelling Luke forward.

“So, tell me,” Luke continued, looking for a way to pass the time. “What else do you know about bureaucratic incompetence?”

* * *

Spencer and Luke had chatted for twenty minutes before the pair lapsed into a semi-comfortable, boring silence. It was another ten minutes before Luke got tired of staring at his phone. He tucked it back in his pocket and risked a glance at Spencer, observed the lanky man settling in on the opposite side of the elevator, legs curved into a crossed position. The books previously in his bag lay in a stack in front of him, having taken no time at all to read through. Now, the genius sat there quite literally twiddling his thumbs. Luke sighed, prompting Spencer to look up. The two grinned at each other in not-quite-awkwardness. Spencer felt that same magnetism he’d felt earlier at the round table in their echoed smiles. That sense of familiarity, he could call it, even though he and Luke weren’t close. There were definitely worse people he could be stuck in an elevator with.

“What were you reading?” Luke motioned toward the pile of books precariously balanced at the opposite corner as he sat down.

“A few studies on obsessive behavior and stalking I had tucked away for the case. That and Slaughterhouse-Five.”

Luke blinked in surprise at the last title. “Vonnegut fan?” Spencer shyly bowed his head.

“Actually, I haven’t read too much of his work. You’d think I would have by now but even I have my limits; I suppose.” Spencer lightly joked. Luke pulled his leg up, resting his arm on his knee.

“What encouraged you to start reading his work?” Luke prodded. Spencer absentmindedly flipped through the book, slim fingers deftly brushing across the pages. It was hypnotic, in a strange way. Luke snapped his gaze back up to his face.

“Honestly, Agent Morgan was a big fan of Vonnegut. He liked to project this big macho persona but secretly he was far more intelligent and capable than most people,” Spencer explained, a wistful look in his eyes. Luke hummed in understanding.

“You miss him.”

“Yeah, I do. I mean…” Spencer searched for the right words. “I still see him sometimes. But he’s at home with a newborn and that kind of cuts into any socializing he does now.”

“I knew I had big shoes to fill,” Luke commented.

“You’re doing just fine.”

Luke smiled at the compliment; Spencer returned it easily. Maybe the next few hours wouldn’t be so bad. Spencer pulled his leg up toward his chin, mirroring Luke’s own pose. If Luke were to peer into the genius’s mind, ever the self-aware one, he might have picked up on the psychology of mirroring others. On what it secretly meant. But Luke couldn’t read minds, and Spencer wouldn’t acknowledge his own feelings any further, instead opting for a simple change in conversation topics.

“So,” he dragged out the syllable, subtly acknowledging the strange feeling in the air before changing the subject, “any fun holiday plans?”

Luke chuckled knowingly. They weren’t getting out of here any time soon. “Not this year with the case, unfortunately. Normally, I spend Christmas with my folks. My ma sure can cook and I do try to help her but I’m just…I’m terrible, man,” he laughs; Spencer chuckles along with him. “She always kicks me out of the kitchen. We have a big dinner and then we watch Titanic. Out of the stellar collection of Christmas movies we have, we always go for Titanic. Don’t ask me how that got started, but it is now firmly a Christmas movie in my mind. It’s tradition.”

Spencer shrugged, trying to ignore the ache in his bones. He’d never had Christmas traditions with his family like that. “If you watch it on Christmas, it’s a Christmas movie.”

“Exactly!” Luke agreed, a beaming smile that warmed Spencer’s insides. “What about you? Any holiday plans?” Spencer looked down.

“Not really. Christmas was never that big of a thing at home.” Luke nodded in understanding, allowing the moment to lapse into silence. Spencer tugged at the lace on his sneakers before speaking again. “I remember…I brought home a Christmas tree one year, because my mom usually forgot. I must have been a sight. Some nine-year-old kid dragging this tiny little tree down the sidewalks of Nevada,” Spencer smiled, before he got this look in his eyes. “My mom, uh…she wouldn’t let me keep it. Said that bringing it in was essentially letting the government spy on us. It, uh,” Spencer cleared his throat. “wasn’t my favorite holiday, to say the least. And now, my mom…” Spencer trailed off. He didn’t have to finish his sentence. Luke knew. More than he probably wanted him to. “I love her so much, but I don’t think I ever grew out of wanting a normal Christmas,” he revealed. Spencer looked back up, concern evident across his face. “Is it selfish? For me to not want to visit her during Christmas?”

In that moment, Spencer wasn’t the confident genius who’d gotten a coveted position at the FBI before most were even qualified. He wasn’t the expert negotiator, talking down UnSubs and solving cases flawlessly. No, at this moment, he looked small. Luke had the urge to wrap him up, keep him safe from the harsh reality of this world, even if that meant protecting him from his own negative beliefs. The care he felt toward Spencer in that moment shocked him, prompting him to hesitate, just for a second before responding. He opened and closed his mouth, took a breath, and then said what was on his mind.

“No, you’re not selfish, Reid. You’re doing what’s best for you, and that’s all anyone can do. You’ve done so much for your mom, and I know she loves you. She really does.” The sincerity of the words stilled Spencer’s fidgeting fingers. Sprouted a look of gratitude and understanding. Luke didn’t wait for a response, instead prodding further.

“How have you been recently? During the holiday season and post-prison and…” Luke gestured. Spencer felt a sharp twist of anxiety in his chest. He shrugged.

“Fine, I guess.” Luke narrowed his eyes. Spencer looked away from the intensity of the gaze, the rawness of the moment.

“Well, I’m here to talk if you want,” Luke suggested, carefully formulating the words so as not to scare him off. He got the feeling that Spencer was shoving everything down and that couldn’t be healthy. Luke knew that firsthand. Spencer didn’t budge as he replied.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said quickly, fiddling with his shoelaces some more. Avoiding eye contact. Hiding. Spencer didn’t want to revisit these things. These painful reminders of all the tragedy in his life. Sympathy bubbled up in Luke’s chest at the sight. He tried again.

“It might help if you—"

“Sorry if I don’t feel up to talking about my PTSD right now, Luke,” Spencer snapped as the terrible feeling burst in his chest at the thought, the conversation now suddenly equipped with a hostile bite. Luke gingerly showed the palms of his hands in a sign of surrender. The gesture immediately softened Spencer, a regretful look in his eyes as he ran a hand down his face. He sighed. Breathed in, out, before speaking. “Sorry. Sorry, it’s just…” Spencer vaguely gestured as he tried to search for the right words. He couldn’t find them. “…hard.” Luke nodded at the sentiment before huffing a dry laugh.

“The infamous Dr. Spencer Reid finally rendered speechless,” Luke joked, testing the waters. Spencer cracked a sad smile in return. It wasn’t for lack of trying. Spencer wished he could find the words. It seemed these were the only times he couldn’t.

A quiet settled over the elevator after that. Luke’s fingers itched to take his phone back out just to have something to do but for some reason it felt…wrong. Like the action would ruin what was happening. Whatever was happening. Luke stared at the wall, their legs stretched out on opposite sides of the carriage. Feet just barely not touching. It was a few minutes before Spencer spoke again.

“I’ve gone through it before,” he said, a newfound wary confidence in his voice. Like he needed to get this out, even if it was uncomfortable. The sting of cleaning a wound so it could heal once and for all.

“Prison?” Luke asked incredulously, a furrow in his brow.

“Trauma.” Spencer paused. “…Torture.” Luke frowned. Spencer didn’t look up as he formed the words, kept his eyes trained on a speck on the floor that seemed to have captured his attention. Luke didn’t want to push him. He understood it was easier this way. Spencer cleared his throat, licked his lips, and pushed forward, imperfect words and all.

“When I was 25, I was kidnapped by an UnSub with dissociative identity disorder. Tobias Hankel. He kept me for days, torturing me.”

“Reid, you don’t have to—”

“No,” Spencer stopped him. Determination set in his features. A reflection of the look Luke had while staring up the elevator not too long ago. A stubborn will to go set things right. “It’s okay. Let me do this. I’ve never really talked about it here.” The thought of Spencer keeping this bottled up worried Luke, so he nodded for Spencer to continue, hoping he didn’t push too far. Spencer took another breath.

“The UnSub had three distinct personalities: his abusive father, the archangel Raphael, and himself. I really felt for him. He seemed so scared. The other personalities were keener on inflicting pain. But when Tobias was there, he… he wanted to help me in the only way he knew how.” Spencer tugged at his laces, grounded himself in the feeling of the braided thread. He was safe here. He risked a glance at Luke and felt the knot in his chest ease up at the concern evident on his face. Spencer swallowed thickly before continuing. “He drugged me. With dilaudid. I tried to refuse it at first but after the first few times…I was begging for more.” Luke remained silent, so Spencer continued.

“When it was all over—when the team got there, I shot Hankel, it was all…over—I stole vials of dilaudid off his dead body.” Spencer looked up at the ceiling, blinking back the vulnerable emotions buried deep, threatening to spill forth into the suddenly cold, confined space. “God, you must think I’m pathetic.”

“No, Spencer. I think you’re brave.” Luke leaned forward. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. No one deserves that.” Spencer shrugged.

“It made me stronger.”

“It shouldn’t have had to.” Spencer let his hair fall into his eyes as he kept pulling the laces on his shoes.

“I just feel like that was the beginning of the end. Like I’m…stained now. Everything I’ve been through. My mom, prison, everything. I’m reminded of what went down back in that barn every time I feel a craving. I’ll always be a drug addict. It’s who I am.”

“It’s not who you are,” Luke offered. Spencer gave him a look. “Okay, it’s a part of you, but that’s not what makes you you.” Spencer scoffed at Luke’s justification.

“I’m serious, Spencer,” Luke continued. “You’re incredibly intelligent, and not just in a child genius way; you’ve acquired more and more knowledge over the years and have been able to form new connections that anyone else would struggle with. You’re kind, so kind. Even after all you’ve been through you still have that humanity in you. That empathy for the UnSubs. For the victims. It’s a real superpower, man. One that I need to work on myself sometimes. Emotion gets the best of all of us on these cases. Our desire for revenge or justice but you. You see all sides. I’ve never told you how much I respect that.”

“Not always,” Spencer mumbled.

“Hmm?” Luke looked at Spencer, a questioning look in his eyes. Spencer curled into himself under the stare, like a brittle leaf curling in the strong heat of the sun.

“I wanted to kill him. After everything all of us have gone through, I…”

“Scratch?” Spencer nodded. Luke studied the look on his face, the bitten lips, furrowed brow. Quiet, terrible, contemplation.

“You feel conflicted about it.” Spencer shrugged at the statement.

“I don’t like feeling that way. Like I have that in me. I could’ve killed Scratch and I would’ve slept well. Even now that he is gone, I’m not torn up about it. At all.” Spencer felt brittle, but Luke understood.

“Spencer, that’s human. I can guarantee you that no one on the team is torn up about it. But the fact that you care, the fact that you feel so conflicted about feeling this way…that’s the empathy. It never went away. You experience things differently now, but it’s still there.” Luke kicked his leg out, stretching as he spoke. “I’m not particularly torn up about it either, you know.”

“I think the section chief would lose their mind if they knew we were practically lining up for the honor,” Spencer chuckled dryly. Luke shook his head as he joined in.

“See, you’re also funny. Sarcastic in the best way. I don’t care what anyone else has to say, I love conversations with you.”

Spencer grinned a tight-lipped smile. “I appreciate that.” Luke nodded, propelling Spencer forward. “I know we haven’t really been close. Not like with the others…” Luke gave a slight nod. Spencer had a point to that. “But I do admire you. Even beyond your capabilities in regard to the BAU—which are impressive in their own right. I, uh…I like talking with you, too.”

If either of them were to look up, really look at each other, they would see the matching shades of pink across their cheeks; a pop of color in the stark, metal room. Luke leaned his head against the railing behind him.

“Man, we should get trapped in elevators more often, man.” Spencer let out a laugh and Luke felt something warm in his chest at the sound. Like the sun peeking out on a hopelessly cloudy day, kissing the skin, radiating heat. He felt the sudden urge to stretch out and bask in the feeling forever. But something was bothering him. An itch he couldn’t quite reach. This new imbalance in their relationship hung heavy.

“I feel like I need to level the playing field now,” Luke suddenly spoke, putting an end to the comfortable silence they had fallen into.

“Luke, no, you don’t have to.”

“Reid…Spencer.” Spencer looked up at the use of his first name. It made Luke’s stomach do something funny. “I want to,” Luke reaffirmed. “Besides, you probably understand that talking about this kind of stuff strengthens a bond; it’ll be good. We’re getting to know each other better. Just on a deep, very-much-not surface level.”

Spencer nodded at the sentiment, scooted ever so slightly closer to the other man, ready to listen. Luke heaved a great sigh as he went into his mind and pulled at his wounds, unraveling the threads of his past. He stared just past Spencer when he finally found the words.

“Catholic school.” Spencer hummed before cracking a smile, nudging Luke’s foot with his own.

“Altar boy?” Luke chuckled at this playful side of Spencer, grateful for how he lightened the mood, just a bit. Made Luke feel safer.

“Shut up,” he laughed. Luke sat in the feeling for a moment longer, letting it fuel him, before sharing.

“It’s just…hard realizing that you’re an abomination to God, you know? And don’t…” He gave Spencer a stern look, exhaustion laced in its stare. “I know I’m not an abomination. I know that. But I was 12 years old when I realized I was gay, man. And I’d gone to Catholic school for all my life, where it was ingrained in me – being gay is sin, don’t be gay. It messed me up for a while.”

Spencer cleared his throat. “I, uh, I didn’t know you were gay.” He couldn’t pinpoint why this new information affected him so.

“I don’t exactly go parading my sexuality around the FBI,” Luke responded. After a beat, he added, “I’m not ashamed, though. Not anymore. Those first years, the realization? That was the hard part.”

Spencer nodded in understanding. They’d led very different lives, had such different childhoods, but Spencer could more than relate to that realization. That you’re not like everyone else. In more ways than one. He blinked up at Luke, urging him to continue. “How’d you get through it?” Luke sighed, dropped his head back against the wall. A dull, staccato sound.

“My parents, mostly. I came out to them when I was 18 and they accepted me. Of course, they did. They’re good people. But when you’re a scared kid you don’t know what to expect, you know?” Spencer gave him a tight-lipped smile. He knew.

“Also, this one kid, Carter.” Luke continued, “He and I…were seeing each other. During high school. God, he could make me laugh. Even in the midst of all the teenage angst and Catholic guilt, he made me happy. We were happy when we were together. And I think my parents knew. Well, I know my parents knew. Looking back on it, it’s clear as day. But back then we were so concerned with sneaking around.” He smiled, a far-off look in his eyes. Spencer couldn’t quite decipher it. “It didn’t last, though. I mean, it was high school. We drifted apart in the end. But that whole middle part? It really helped me be the person I am today. Taught me loads.” Luke grimaced. “Sorry, that was a lot.” Spencer waved a hand to let Luke know it was fine. He knew all about rambling. Spencer threaded his hands together before leaning on them, elbows in his lap.

“Do you still think about him?” Spencer asked. Luke smiled, sad.

“I think he ended up marrying a girl from our school. Settled down, had a few kids. Really makes you think.” Spencer hummed.

He didn’t share this with many people. This large, incalculable thing that brought him to the edge of panic and back again. Coping had been hard. He thought about Roxy laying on him, the heavy weight of her calming him down, in her own clumsy-pawed way. Usually, talking about this hurt in a way that he couldn’t even describe. But he had Spencer. Here, in this elevator, sharing the deepest parts of themselves, it somehow felt safe. Luke hadn’t felt that way with another person in a long time. Like he didn’t have to carry this weight alone. And if he were to ask Spencer, he’d learn the feeling was mutual.

Luke nudged Spencer’s foot with his own, observing the domino effect of the playful touch on the other man as Spencer’s features morphed into a small smirk, reflecting Luke’s same expression. There were no words coming from the genius’s smile, no filler facts and statistics in the face of the great expansive silence before them. Because it wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t uncomfortable. It settled easily in the small elevator carriage, as though its presence was inevitable. As though every quiet confession, every shared glance and touch, had led to this.

“It’s nice…” Spencer started, struggling with the phrasing, “Well, not nice, but it’s interesting to hear about your past. See where Luke Alvez truly came from. I only wish you didn’t have to suffer for it to happen.”

“The most formative experiences are often the most painful,” Luke commented.

“I just wish they didn’t have to be,” Spencer sniffed, ran a hand through his hair. “Like I get they help us become who we are but…I don’t like everything about who I am now.” Luke remained quiet as Spencer spoke. “Like…prison was a formative experience but I could’ve gone without it, you know?”

“I know,” Luke affirmed. Spencer’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, a nervous tic. He took a breath.

“I thought I was going to die in there.”

Those words knocked the air out of Luke’s lungs for a second. He wasn’t that close with Spencer when everything went down—prison, Mexico, Cat Adams—but he would’ve been devastated had anything terrible happened. That ache drove him to great lengths to protect the other man last year, a desire he couldn’t quite make sense of then. But he was starting to. Luke tried to reassure him now despite the shakiness evident in his voice.

“You went through a trauma.” Spencer nodded at Luke’s words, then shook his head.

“I feel like I should really be over it by now,” Spencer replied. He quickly tried to explain himself before Luke could say anything in return. “—which I know is objectively ridiculous because there’s no set time in which a person is expected to feel and then heal from a traumatic experience. There are too many variables involved to expect anything aside from affected function and some common symptoms, but I guess I just thought—” Spencer sighed. Luke didn’t offer any words this time; simply waited for him to sort them out himself. Letting the silence of the moment unravel him. It seemed to be what Spencer needed. The space to talk. The feeling of being listened to. “I don’t know. I’ve always been ‘above average’. I think some part of me thought I’d be able to heal faster from this. Faster than normal. Even though I should know better.” Spencer cleared his throat, leaned forward as he launched even further into his explanation.

“There’s this Einstein quote: ‘Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again but expecting different results.’ Well, that quote was actually not from Einstein but comes from a mystery novelist from the 19th century, but either way. That’s exactly what I’m doing. I’ve been through enough trauma to last a lifetime. I mean, multiple traumatic experiences, over and over again. I know firsthand how I coped or didn’t cope. I know how long it took me to get through those things or to not get through them. I still live with most of them every day. But for some reason, I still think that I’ll get through it faster this time. Get over it quicker. As if that’s something I can just do. As if that’s the inevitable conclusion to this horrible chapter. So, clearly, I must be insane, because I keep expecting impossible things to happen. Repeatedly.”

Luke got up at that, strode over toward Spencer. The other man was a sight, all elbows and knees and shoulders curved in. As though he was shouldering his own protective shield, all angles, holding himself together. Luke gently sat down next to him, careful not to startle the infamously touch-averse man. He took a moment to consider the risk he was about to take. And then, Luke reached out, his fingers outstretched toward the other man. Lowered his hand down gently, a leaf floating through the crisp winter air, giving plenty of time for Spencer to reject his advances.

He didn’t.

Instead, something in the air changed. Imperceptible to anyone else who would’ve seen. But suddenly, Spencer was holding Luke’s hand. No, not holding. Gripping his hand. Gripping as though Luke was the very life raft holding him afloat. It reminded him of Rose holding onto the door in Titanic, white-knuckled grip on its edges. Spencer had that same desperation hidden behind his features, carefully guarded beneath a hastily constructed mask. Luke studied his features, sensed Spencer’s shame in taking the help so easily, as though reaching out for the other man would drag Luke down with him. But that’s where Titanic got it wrong. There was always room for two people on that damn door.

Luke squeezed Spencer’s hand in reassurance as the two of them sat on the hard elevator floor, each grateful for the softness of the moment. Spencer focused on the grounding sensation of Luke’s hand in his, the warmth of his palms, the slight sweat that had begun to break out on his hand. He didn’t dare let go, though. Didn’t dare think about the staggering number of pathogens being exchanged right now. And especially didn’t think about the way his heart stuttered the moment Luke sat down next to him, initiating the touch. Instead, Spencer tried to let his mind calm as he allowed the weight of the other man’s hand to put him at ease. As he did so, he went over everything they had been discussing, of the life waiting for him outside the elevator doors. He had the startling realization that letting go of Luke’s hand and walking back out there when the time came was absolutely terrifying.

“I just want to be in a phase of my life where everything feels okay again,” Spencer sighed, wistfully under his breath.

Luke chuckled and Spencer gave him a strange look. He shook his head before addressing the anxious agent. “You’re a hermit crab, man.” Spencer looked bewildered at Luke’s statement; not entirely sure what crustaceans had to do with his moment of vulnerability. Luke pushed forward, ready to explain the simile that was decidedly not a universal thing.

“It’s something my abuela used to say. Basically, you’re in a transitionary period right now. You’re between shells. Out in the vulnerable wild like the hermit crab. But that’s not a bad thing, because you’ll get a new shell. One that’s different, yes, but one that fits better, no matter the change. And you can’t rush the process; you just take it one step at a time.” Spencer leaned his head back against the silver walls of the elevator as he pondered this, ran it over in his mind, savoring the foreign taste it left in his mouth. Like golden beaches.

“I used to have a pet hermit crab when I was a kid.” Spencer spoke. “My mom always liked the idea of having a pet, but we weren’t exactly well-suited to a dog or anything.” Sadness tinged his words, even with a smile on his face. Luke gave his hand a squeeze.

“Well, if you ever need to hug a dog or something, I happen to know this beautiful Belgian Malinois,” Luke grinned. Spencer laughed at the sentiment, grateful. He leaned his head ever so slightly toward the other man.

“Thanks,” he whispered. Luke hummed in return as he ran his thumb across the back of Spencer’s knuckles, feeling the other man start to relax. If only they could stay like this outside of the confines of these elevator walls.

“My mom would like you,” Luke suddenly spoke, warranting an eyebrow raise from Spencer at the sudden change in subject.

“Really?”

“Yeah. She’s always asking me questions I never know the answer to,” he laughed. Spencer lit up as he matched Luke’s laughter. “She knows about you already; I talk to her all the time so she kind of knows everyone on the team. But when I call her tomorrow, I’ll get to tell her that I spent Christmas stuck in an elevator with the genius of the FBI,” Spencer grinned, his insides lit up as though the Rockefeller tree itself lived inside of him. The thought of Luke telling his mom about him…Spencer couldn’t even describe it. He turned towards the other man.

“If it’s worth anything, my mom would like you, too.”

“Oh, she does.” Spencer looked up at that, a quizzical look in his eyes. Luke continued. “When you were away, JJ looked after your mom, but I went over a few times as well. A lot of us kind of took turns,” he explained. Luke smirked as he recalled his conversation with Diana. “She told me she always liked the name Luke.” Spencer hummed at that.

“I’m sure she did,” Spencer said. “She has great taste.” He barely whispered that last part, opting to study the other man instead.

Luke looked at him then, really looked at him. Honey brown irises eclipsed by dark undereye circles. Sharp cheekbones that somehow didn’t take away from the inherent softness of his features. Pink lips turned a maddeningly vibrant shade with all the biting Spencer does to them. Luke suddenly understood the funny feeling he got in his stomach whenever he caught a look from the other man. Whenever Spencer passionately spewed facts and statistics to him, excitement exuding from every part of him. Luke had the heart-stopping realization that he liked Spencer Reid. Like, really liked him. All these months with charged encounters, an invisible magnetism, the immense care he felt for the other man…it made sense. And now, that realization only electrified the air even further, Luke’s breath hitching as he realized Spencer hadn’t broken eye contact either.

See, Spencer had the same realization moments prior.

And before Luke knew what was happening, soft lips were on his, prompting him to respond, newfound realization spurring him forward. Eagerly.

Luke cupped his jaw as Spencer enthusiastically initiated kiss after kiss after kiss. It was electrifying, like waves of static coursing through his veins. When Spencer slipped in a bit of tongue, Luke thought he was going to melt into the ground. He settled for a hand on the other man’s hip instead. The two remained this way, all thoughts out the door as they fell into each other, reveling in the warmth of the moment. That familiar comfort lending itself to something new, something exciting. Luke summoned every ounce of willpower he had before pulling away, almost emitting a groan at the sight of Spencer. Lips kiss-bitten and sweater just slightly askew. It was sinful. Luke cleared his throat before speaking.

“I didn’t think you had that in you.”.

“Well, you’ll just have to get to know me better, then,” Spencer cheekily replied, his responding smirk only slightly betrayed by the flush running down his neck. Luke grinned as Spencer leaned his forehead against his.

“Dinner?” Luke prompted.

“Yes. Definitely. I mean, I’m kind of starving anyway.” Spencer licked his lips and Luke followed the motion intently, prompting Spencer to chuckle at the sight. He tore his eyes away, leaning his head back against the wall. A questioning look flashed across Luke’s face.

“Oh, yeah. How long have we been in here?” Spencer checked his watch.

“Roughly three hours.”

Luke smiled, a smug look on his face. “I know you know the exact number of minutes, Spencer. How long have we really been in here?”

“Since we got onto the elevator?” Spencer looked up as he calculated in his head. “Three hours, twenty-one minutes, and forty-six seconds.”

“Well, I have an idea of how to pass the remainder of the time…” Luke drawled, a suggestive air in his tone. Spencer laughed before leaning back in. Giving into the magnetic draw he’d felt for so long.

* * *

Spencer was only mildly embarrassed about his debauched state when the crew arrived and broke them out of the small metal cage. It was funny, being trapped for that long. Because in those four hours they’d spent together, a room not even six by six feet, neither had ever felt so free.

The two had gotten back to talking when the elevator repairman showed up. A series of texts from Emily had reminded them of the matter that got them stuck in the FBI elevator in the first place. Everything outside of their little metal world had worked out. The victim was safely recovered and the UnSub was arrested. Discussions of casework dispelled the heated air that had filled the elevator only minutes prior. It wasn’t unwelcome, though. They were glad to hear everything had gone well. It was as good a day as any for the Behavioral Analysis Unit. In sitting in the resolute feeling that a case gone well had left behind, the pair lapsed into captivating, pointless, beautiful conversation. See, Luke and Spencer would both agree that, while keeping their hands off each other wasn’t exactly a priority anymore, they wanted to know everything about the other person. Deep stuff, surface level, checkered pasts, pizza topping preferences, and all. They were so different, and yet somehow complemented each other perfectly, like Titanic and Christmas.

One crew of elevator repairmen and several attempts to pry the door open later soon resulted in Luke and Spencer tumbling out of the carriage, opting to take the stairs to the garage this time. Spencer ached to reach out and grab hold of Luke’s hand once more as they headed out of the building.

“There’s a DVD place down the block from my apartment that’s open really late,” Spencer said as they entered the parking garage following a comfortably silent descent down the remaining flights of stairs, hands brushing together. Now, a hopeful kind of vulnerability was painted across his features. The vulnerable bubble of being trapped together had popped. Did that mean whatever had happened was over? Luke interrupted his spiraling train of thoughts as he grabbed his hand, firm. Spencer broke out into a smile, every cell in his body lighting up as though it were a grand Christmas display.

“An offer like that? How could I say no?” Luke replied, nudging Spencer’s shoulder with own as he unlocked his car, separating hands only for a moment before once again gripping tight across the console as they both got settled. The two pulled out of the Quantico garage, a newfound fondness for the fragile nature of elevator mechanics. Spencer would have to update the statistics on elevator-related incidents in his head. Maybe with a decidedly-biased and positive spin.

See, claustrophobia was never the problem for either of them. It was always meant to happen like this. Invisible forces pushing Luke and Spencer together, even in the face of all the obstacles that came with being seasoned FBI agents with intense histories. And the two would spend the remainder of their Christmas together, forming new traditions all their own. Traditions involving a strapping young Leonardo DiCaprio and plenty of elevator jokes that both Luke and Spencer would follow for years to come. Because deep elevator conversations, renting Titanic on DVD, and getting takeout at the only place still open this late on a holiday?

Well, now that was the most Christmas thing either of them could think of.

-

taglist: @honeyreid @ropoto @moderatelydelusional @reidactually

masterlist | taglist

[asweetprologue]

me lámh le do lámh - Part I

Ahh I can’t believe it’s finally done! After a year of working on this beast, it’s finally ready for me to share. This is something I started way back last summer, and I decided to finish it as my project for this year’s @geraskierbigbang. It will be ten parts in total, and I will post one part per day until it is complete! There are several art pieces that were created by the wonderful @herostag​ and Miranda.draws for this story, which I will link when the appropriate section is posted. For a summary and further links, please see the masterpost.

Next | Ao3 | Masterpost

“Alright,” Geralt said. “Don’t laugh at me.”

Yennefer looked up at him with bright eyes, curious and already mirthful. She was sitting across from him in his quarters, reading through a tome she’d found in Kaer Morhen’s disheveled library. Geralt had just come from a bath after hours spent training Ciri in the yard, and the room was filled with the warm evening light, supplemented by the fire crackling in the hearth. Yennefer had insisted on carting dozens of tapestries and drapes to hang around the drafty keep, and the room was nearly stuffy with their bulk keeping the heat in.

Yennefer gave him an amused smirk. “I will make no such promises before I even know what you’re going to say.” The gentle teasing brought a fond smile to Geralt’s face. After the events of the mountain all those years ago, things had been understandably tense. Yennefer had been reluctant to join them when she had finally met up with Geralt after Sodden, but had eventually agreed to seek refuge in the witchers’ keep and teach Ciri to control her magic. Once she’d met the girl it had all been a wash; it was clear as soon as their eyes met across the room that Yennefer was as much a part of Ciri’s destiny as Geralt was.

Geralt had expected that to either mend the rift between them enough for things to go back to the way things were, or make things even more awkward. Instead, they found themselves in a sort of in-between. Over the years his affection for Yennefer had only grown, but he found himself looking to her more and more as a friend—maybe his best friend. After Jaskier, of course.

Speaking of. “I was thinking about Jaskier.”

Yennefer rolled her eyes obviously. “As you are so frequently wont to do. The thaw will come soon enough, dear, and you can run off in search of your bard.”

Geralt felt his ears grow warm. Witchers couldn’t blush, not truly, but he still felt the tingle of it as he fidgeted with embarrassment. “That’s not what I meant,” he said, absently tracing a finger against the grain of the wooden table. There were two goblets of wine sitting between them, but so far neither of them had begun to drink. “Do you know how many winters it’s been since I found Ciri?”

If she was confused by the odd turn in subject matter, Yennefer didn’t show it. Instead she looked thoughtful. “Two, perhaps three? You know I don’t follow the seasons with diligence.”

“Neither do I,” Geralt agreed. “I was thinking the same though, two or three years since the fall of Cintra. Which means Jaskier is…” He paused, trying to do the math. “He was a few years past forty, during the dragon hunt, I think. He must be closer to fifty now than not.”

Yennefer raised an eyebrow at him. “I recall mentioning something about his crows feet. What of it? Humans age. Are you only just discovering this?”

Geralt forced himself not to grumble. In a way, he was only discovering it. He’d known humans across the years, of course, and knew that many that he’d once been acquainted with were no longer alive or were in their twilight years. For decades Geralt had wandered through the world, changing no more than a ghost would, touching the lives of regular mortals for a brief instance, maybe a few times if they were particularly unlucky. No one had stayed by his side, dedicated themselves to a relationship with him, the way that the bard had. The amount of devotion that Jaskier showed to him had made Geralt antsy, in earlier years, and then confused and angry by turn. He had hated the idea of someone needing him, had hated needing someone in return. The way his chest felt heavy when he and Jaskier parted ways had left him furious with himself and the bard.

And then Ciri came into his life, and everything had changed so quickly.

With Ciri, it didn’t matter whether Geralt felt like he should care for her, or if he wanted to. He needed to. Without him, the girl would die, or be kidnapped by Nilfgaard for who knows what purpose. He had to feed her, and clothe her, and teach her, and he had to love her for her to thrive.

She made it very easy. It was only afterwards that he realized how much of an idiot he’d been to Jaskier, and the thought of how he’d treated the bard over the years had plagued him. It had been months before he could find him to apologize, but Jaskier forgave him almost immediately—which Geralt found both relieving and infuriating at the same time. This was the first winter they’d spent apart since. Geralt left the keep more rarely now, heading out on the Path only when the months grew truly warm and returning at the first hint of falling leaves. Ciri was safe on her own, he knew, but he missed her when he was away. And he could admit now that one of the forces driving him back into the world over the last few years had been the itching desire to find Jaskier again and settle the yearning in his chest for another year. He was less inclined to venture forth when his bard, his daughter, Yennefer and his brothers were all in one place.

This winter Jaskier had begged off, saying that he had “work in the south,” which could mean anything from spending a decadent winter in the court of some noble or sludging through the front lines as a Redanian spy. Geralt had learned not to pry too deeply into Jaskier’s business when he wasn’t around. It was often either too explicit for him to stomach or too confidential for Jaskier to share freely.

It worried him, being away from the bard for so long. He could get hurt, or captured by Nilfgaard, or worse. But what really terrified Geralt was the idea that he would find Jaskier in a tavern along the Path and realize that the bard had grown old, to find silver in his hair and wrinkles beside his eyes. “He’s getting too old,” Geralt said to Yennefer, who looked at him with sympathetic eyes.

“You must have known when you started travelling with him that he would eventually leave you,” Yennefer said, not unkindly. “Humans are so short lived.”

“I didn’t exactly get a choice about becoming his muse,” Geralt said with a huff. Despite his improved relationship with Jaskier over the past few years, he still found it difficult to admit that he had always been more than willing to let the bard tag along. If he’d wanted to travel alone, he would have. But he never had. “I just didn’t realize…”

“It always comes sooner than you think it will,” Yennefer sighed. She set her book aside and picked up her goblet of wine, turning to look out the large window their table sat in front of. It faced west out of the keep wall, towards the mountains and the forest beyond. The sun had set below the craggy peaks, throwing the snow covered valley below into darkness. Geralt could just make out the ruins of the old tower, its stones dark against the white landscape. “You can’t cure his mortality, Geralt.”

“We did.”

The look that Yennefer gave him was sharp, almost angry. The firelight in the room turned her violet eyes darker, like mulberry wine. “At great cost,” she snapped. “I can’t imagine you would put him through the Trials.”

A stab of panic shot through his gut at the thought. “No. Of course not. He wouldn’t survive it anyways. Only children stand a chance at all.”

Yennefer nodded, apparently satisfied that Geralt hadn’t completely lost his mind. “The boy hasn’t got an ounce of Chaos in him, in spite of his rather chaotic nature, so I highly doubt they’ll accept him as a late trainee at Ban Ard.”

“There must be other ways,” Geralt said, feeling petulant. “Less conventional.”

“I cannot believe we are actually discussing this,” Yennefer said, rising to her feet. She picked up her book from the table as well as her glass. “There is no way to achieve immortality, especially not without sacrifice. You know that, Geralt. Drop this foolish line of thought.”

Geralt rose after her, reaching out to catch her retreating wrist. A grasp loose enough that she could break it, if she wanted, but Yennefer paused. “Please, Yen. Just… look into it for me? I can’t—the thought of—” He cut himself off, dropping his hand away from her arm. The look she gave him was more pitying than he would have liked.

“I’ll do some research, but nothing more. Don’t get your hopes up, Geralt. There’s a reason there are so few of us,” she said. Her face softened slightly, as much as it ever did. Despite Ciri, Yennefer was still made of more glass and fire than anything else. “I know you love him, even if you can’t admit it to yourself. I promise, I will do my best.”

Geralt nodded wordlessly as she left and wondered if Jaskier's eyes would be as bright next time he saw him.

*

For weeks Yennefer said nothing about his request, and Geralt refocused on spending time with Ciri and preparing to depart for the spring. Lambert and Eskel had already left a month before, as soon as the road down the mountain began to thaw, but Geralt had hung back. The roof needed repairs, a difficult job to do in the midst of winter, and it was a hard task to leave for Vesemir alone. It was always like this, now—him looking for odd jobs to keep him at Kaer Morhen, with Ciri, making excuses until Jaskier’s jitteriness or Vesemir’s raised eyebrows forced them on the road again. Some of that was mitigated this season by the silence he heard when he found himself listening for the sounds of lute strings strumming gently in the background, and Geralt’s increasing anxiety about Jaskier’s wellbeing. Even so, it was hard to leave Ciri behind.

The girl was progressing rapidly as she entered her teen years, the chubbiness of her youth morphing into lean if awkward muscle as she continued to work on her swordsmanship. When Geralt and his brothers weren’t pushing her through drills, she was studying monsters and alchemy with Vesemir, or practicing her magic with Yen. She never seemed to tire, eagerly absorbing any lessons passed on to her and desperate to prove her worth. The only person she seemed to let her guard down around was Geralt, who found himself often goading her into mock wrestling matches (which he refused to throw on principle) and humoring her when she became restless and wanted to explore beyond the keep. Kaer Morhen was dangerous in the winter, but as spring approached and the deep snows on the surrounding mountains began to thaw, the duo spent more and more time trekking through old ruins and sleeping beneath the stars.

He could put off his journey south no longer.

“I’m going to be fine, Geralt,” she said, rolling her eyes at him. He wondered if he’d been this petulant as a teenager. Certainly Lambert had. “I can take care of myself, and Yen will be with me.”

Geralt tapped her wooden training sword with his own, indicating that she should prepare to go again. When he was a boy he’d trained against the other foundlings, stumbling around like pups through drills and sparring matches. Ciri trained against full witchers, and only Eskel ever faked a misstep here or there to allow her to get in a good hit. When she won a fight for the first time, it would be on her own merit.

The girl raised her sword into a decent fighting stance, and Geralt moved to correct her footwork. Her sword work was exceptional above the belt, but she consistently forgot her stances, throwing herself off balance. They’d begun putting her on the pendulums to force her to focus, dancing between posts to attack the dummies. Geralt had spent many a night rubbing salve into her bruised shoulders, gained from taking fall after fall from the low poles. No one forced her, but if there was one thing Ciri hated, it was admitting to weakness in herself. “Sword up,” Geralt said, and launched into his attack.

He stayed on the offense, forcing her to practice the defensive drills they’d started going over recently. “I know you’ll be fine,” he said, continuing their conversation. His breathing was relaxed, almost meditative through the slow exchange of blows. “Just seems cruel to leave you with only the old man and Yennefer for company.”

Ciri giggled despite herself, and Geralt found himself grinning back before he smacked her lightly in the ribs with the training sword. She swore—Lambert, Geralt thought with chagrin—and danced back a few paces. “Gotta focus,” he said, still smirking at her.

She poked her tongue out at him childishly and reposted off of one of his blocked attacks. He easily swayed out of the way, but the movement was fluid and smooth, which meant someday it would be fast, faster than he could dodge. He gave an encouraging nod.

They continued to spar for another half an hour or so before breaking, heading to the well to fill their water pouches. Geralt sat on the short ring of stones and Ciri slumped on the ground beside him, leaning against his leg. The simple trust and familiarity she exhibited around him still took him by surprise, sometimes. “I’m leaving tomorrow,” he said, rubbing a hand over the top of her head. Her hair was almost as white as his.

She sighed, wiping dripping water from her chin as she tossed her water pouch down. “I figured,” she said. “Say hello to Jaskier for me, when you find him? I missed his songs this time.”

Geralt’s caress turned into a playful ruffle. “I will. Any requests for books?”

“Ones about Elves,” she said immediately, “and Skelligan alchemy. It’s different from ours, did you know? The Druids—”

Geralt chuckled. “I know. You’ve said half a dozen times. No fairytales this time?”

The girl hummed, reminding him for a brief and touching moment of himself. “Just bring Jaskier back. He tells about your adventures so much better than you do.”

“He’s certainly made a career out of it,” Geralt grumbled, feigning annoyance. “I’ll do my best. You know how he is.”

“You missed him too,” she said, hitting his knee with one closed fist. “I know you did. You get all…Well, more grumbly and mopey than usual, when he’s not around.” She wrinkled her nose up at him in exaggerated disgust. “It’s gross. But I do want you to be happy.”

Geralt knocked back against her gently with his knee, swallowing around the feelings that rose in his throat. “You just think I’m a boring old man who won’t help you put toads in Eskel’s bed. But you never even ask. I’m the expert, not Jaskier.”

Ciri laughed, bright and crisp in the morning air, and Geralt felt warm despite the fading winter chill. Tomorrow he would leave, and he would find Jaskier, and next winter he would tell Jaskier that he had to stay at Kaer Morhen. For Ciri, if nothing else. And if it was more for Geralt’s sake than anything, well, no one had to know.

*

Yennefer found him before he left, saddling Roach in the stables.

“Go to Triss,” she said by way of a greeting. Geralt knew what she meant by the gravity in her tone and the tension sitting in the corners of her mouth. “Ask after Ida. I don’t know where she is or if she’ll speak with you, but a Sage is the only one that might be able to give you anything.”

Geralt reached out to grasp her hand firmly in his own. “Thank you, Yen,” he said honestly.

The sorceress sniffed. “Well, you owe me one, I suppose. I hope you find what you're looking for. But be careful.”

“I won’t do anything that might put him in harm’s way,” he promised. “I swear it.”

“Good.” She gave him a slight smile before leaning in to brush a kiss over his rough cheek. The simple touch warmed him from inside out. “Say hello to the bard for me. Tell him I heard about that disastrous competition in Vizima. Ought to have him stewing for a good long while.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “I’ll give him your love as always.”

“Goodbye, Geralt,” she said, patting his arm lightly. “Be safe. You know how to reach me, if you have need.”

“I do,” he said. “I will. Take care of Ciri.”

“It’s more the other way around, I’m afraid,” she said with a soft smile, and Geralt understood exactly what she meant. Ciri had saved them both, in more ways than one. Every time he left her was more painful than the last. Someday, he knew, they might travel the Path together, a witcher, a sorceress and their daughter. Maybe even a bard, if he was extremely lucky.

Geralt hoped he would be.

[littleredwing89]

AGENT OF CHAOS - PART THREE

AGENT OF CHAOS - PART THREE

Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: Everything flew by him in a blur as he sped through the streets of Gotham. His foot slammed down harder on the accelerator desperate to get there faster. Every second counted. He knew all too well what The Joker was like. The way his face slipped as you defied him, terrified Jason. He’d seen that look right before receiving a crowbar to the face.

Warnings – Language. Kidnapping. Stalking. Mild Violence. Angst. Hurt.

Word Count: 4,870

A/N: This is the final chapter everyone, sorry for the little delay, I was working on a few of the actions scenes to ensure they were good. I really hope you all like this xoxo

~~~

It had been almost a month. Every lead turned into a dead end. Nothing. Much like the Joker himself, no one knew a thing. The whole thing was tearing Jason apart. He’d barely slept. He’d maybe had 3 hours per night. If that, and he was convinced the only reason he got sleep was because Bruce had slipped him something in his coffee.

The fourth cassette tape came with a dead yellow rose and a rotten apple. He pushed play on the recorder and swallowed thickly as the grainy camera zoomed in on your face. You looked pale. Your cheeks looked hollow and your once colourful eyes looked gaunt. Haunted.

“Well Jason, I’m a man of my word...I’ve been looking after her so good”, Joker laughed hysterically and smoothed his hand down your cheek, smacking it lightly. The slap caused you to jolt in the chair. A sharp gasp flew out of your chapped lips.

Jason felt Bruce’s hand squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. The notion sent a brief wave of calm through Jason. Maybe this was how Bruce felt all those years ago...when he received similar tape of ..of himself. Jason turned back to the screen and focused his eyes. Searching for a clue. Anything. Something to bring you back to him.

“She’s been such a good little princess bird boy...she’s done everything I asked...and more”, Joker whistled happily as he tapped your nose with a wicked smile. Jason felt his heart stop and looked directly into your eyes through the screen. Good he wanted to hold you in his arms and never let you go. 

The tape skipped and replayed the same thing back, “...and more”. It skipped again, “...and more”. Jason growled and the tape paused before going completely black.

His fist smashed into the computer keyboard, pieces of black plastic scattering across the desk. Jason released a loud sobbing noise and sank to the cold stone floor of the bat cave. His eyes scrunched shut tightly, imagining you were in front of him. Giving him that silly smile you always did when you first woke up. It was one of his favourite smiles. You had hundreds of different types of smiles. The one you gave him when he hugged you randomly. The one you’d give him when he told you a stupid joke. The one you’d show him when you were both standing down one of the grocery aisles for no reason at all.

“Jason...son - we will find her - I promise you”, Bruce’s deep voice shattered Jason’s illusion of you in his mind.

“It’s been so long...what if-”, Jason ran a hand over his face. The stubble was longer, causing him to itch.

“Don’t”, Bruce warned, “don’t think like that. We will find her”.

~~~

The last cassette tape Jason received was covered in a dark, red sticky substance. Jason knew what it was but he didn’t know if it was yours. Before Jason could even think about playing it, Bruce had prized it from his fingers.

“Jason we need to analyse the blood, it might give us a clue”, his voice was stable and deep. He attempted to reassure Jason with a firm grip to the shoulder but it did nothing. Jason felt empty without you.

“We need to watch-”, Jason started but was interrupted by Bruce.

“No, I’ll watch it. You need to get some sleep, let me do this Jason. Please”, Bruce pleaded desperately, “You haven’t slept in over 48 hours”.

Jason laughed but it was hollow and sharp, “You really think I can sleep knowing she’s stuck with that fucking psycho?!”.

Bruce sighed and ran a hand over his face, “Jason I know you want to get Y/N back”, he placed the cassette onto a high tech scanning machine, it bleeped repeatedly as it scanned over the material, “But we all need to be working together and that means recharging our batteries”.

Jason scoffed and pushed past Bruce looking over the computer scanner typing something into the system, “So you’re telling me you went and had an eight hour sleep when Joker caught me?”.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, “Jason”.

“JUST STOP!!”, Jason's voice cracked as he shouted and for a moment, he sounded like the broken man in the abandoned shopping mall that long Halloween night many years ago.

“I-I need to do this Bruce. I-I have to, for Y/N”, his voice was scratchy and raw. 

Bruce simply nodded and turned around. He extracted the cassette from the blood stained cloth and pushed it into the player to the right. Bruce took a secondary glance to Jason, giving him one last option but Jason just stared at the screen, waiting to see what the tape would show.

The second the tape played, the batcave was filled with your screams. They sounded broken and dry. Jason’s heart shattered. The shards stabbing him painfully. As you came into view on the camera, your long h/c hair was matted and stuck to your face. Blood staining it a deep red.

The Joker came into the view of the camera and smiled wide, his teeth showing.

“Jason, I see why you’re so attached to this woman, she’s very fiery...her spirit is impenetrable”.

A flicker of evil flew through his eyes at that word and a sick smile slid onto his lips, “but that’s fine. I’m sure I can find more penetrable spots”.

You tug harshly at your binds as he turned and came closer to you, a small blade held in his gloves hand.

“Hold still princess or I might accidentally cut an important part of you...or slit something”.

The blade cut the straps of your top, and the material fluttered down uselessly to the floor, exposing your padded black bra. The Joker whistled appreciatively and winked back at the camera.

“I say Jason...maybe I’m missing out not having a significant other...especially when they’re as beautiful as this”.

Jason had edged so close to the screen Bruce had to pull him back. Tears were running hotly down his cheeks and he swore he tasted blood from biting down on his bottom lip.

Your voice echoed through the empty warehouse room and through the camera speakers, “GO FUCK YOURSELF”.

The Joker smirked down at you and the blade was pressed against the skin of your neck.

“You should watch your manners, princesses don’t speak like that”.

You gulped and looked into his soulless eyes and laughed. It almost sounded as maniacal as his.

“I’m not your fucking princess”.

You spat at his face. Your spit mingled with blood from the earlier smack around the face.

“He’ll come for me...I know he will. And when he does, it’ll be all over for you”.

Something snapped and you saw his eyes darken. His face twisted and the scowl was demonic.

“You filthy fucking bitch!”, he roared and dropped the knife to wipe his face.

Joker turned to the camera and glowered, “I hope you’re watching Jason whilst I teach this rotten little whore some manners!”.

The first blow caused you to cry out in agony. It was harsh and fast. The sound to Jason was ear splitting. The second hit was drawn out and heavy. Designed to bruise. The third was sharp and felt like hundreds of tiny needles piercing your skin. The Joker was laughing wildly all the way through it. Never ceasing his treatment. As he swung his arm back for the fourth hit, the camera jarred and caught a window. Streams of light shone through. Jason could just about make out a sign. It was blurry.

“REWIND AND PAUSE IT BRUCE! There!!!”, he called and waited for Bruce to zoom in.

“Can you clear up that image...that looks like a road sign...”.

Bruce skipped the tape back several seconds, muting the sounds on the screen. The sounds of you getting smacked in the face shaking him to his core. 

“THERE!!! LOOK!! Can you see?!”, Jason pressed his face as close as possible to the screen as Bruce paused it, the image flickered but the road sign was obvious. 

ACE CHEMICALS.

Before Bruce could even react, Jason had launched himself across the cave, guns strapped to his thighs.

“Jason!”.

Jason ignored Bruce and grabbed his helmet, securing it into place whilst dropping extra magazine clips into his inner jacket pockets.

“Jason, we can’t just go in there all guns blazing. That’s what he’ll want! We have to think about this”, Bruce reasoned and moved into his path.

Huffing in annoyance, Jason’s modulator covered it easily, “I’m going to get her whether you come with me or not”.

Bruce looked stunned for a split second before softening his voice, “You’re letting your emotions get the better of you - they’re clouding your judgment Jason”.

He knew he was right, deep down. But the pressure. The torture you must have endured. Everything. It weighed down on Jason and began to suffocate him slowly. The more time he wasted, the worse it was going to be. He couldn’t do it.

“Let me get into my suit and we’ll tackle this together”.

Nodding briefly, Jason watched Bruce make his way across to the darkened corner of the cave where his suit was behind a glass panel. As Bruce pressed his palm into the wall, the biometric scanner bleeped. The case slid open slowly and Bruce began to take out the suit piece by piece. The batarangs refracted the light they caught from the computer screens.

Fuck. It was taking too long, these precious seconds. He could be half way there by now. His bike was too far away, in the garage at the front of the manor. He side eyed the batmobile and swallowed thickly.

“Fuck it”.

Taking the keys from the secret sliding panel on the desk, Jason leapt into the batmobile before starting the engine and speeding out of the cave. He swore he heard Bruce shouting, he was certain he heard several curse words too. Unlike Bruce. But it was taking too long. He couldn’t wait. He couldn’t leave you. You needed him. You couldn’t wait any longer.

~~~

Everything flew by him in a blur as he sped through the streets of Gotham. His foot slammed down harder on the accelerator desperate to get there faster. Every second counted. He knew all too well what The Joker was like. The way his face slipped as you defied him, terrified Jason. He’d seen that look right before receiving a crowbar to the face.

“Come on...come on!!”, Jason cursed to himself, hitting the steering wheel in fury. All the money Bruce had and it wouldn’t go any faster? He took a sharp turn heading towards the abandoned warehouse behind ACE Chemicals. He was so close. So much closer to reaching you. He’d deal with Bruce later. He couldn’t have waited any longer. Bruce would just have to get over him ‘borrowing’ the batmobile.

Swerving another corner and narrowly dodging the underpass columns, he pulled up in front of the derelict building. Almost all of the windows were smashed and hued green with mould. Maybe some of the toxins spewed from the factory had helped taint the glass further.

Grabbing both of his pistols, Jason left the car and headed towards the building fire escape. He could hear voices chattering.

“Joker said to keep an eye out for Batman”.

A goon; Jason noted peering around the brick wall spotting two of them. He noticed the metal railings above them creaking slightly in the strong winds.

“It’s been over a month now and there’s been no sign of any of the Bat freaks, it’s fine, let’s go grab a beer. He won’t even notice”, a second one encouraged the other smirking.

“You really want to cross him? He’s fucking nuts. I’m surprised the girl has even lasted this long with him, you know what he’s like”.

Jason’s fist tightened around one of his guns at the mention of you. It had to be you. Silently firing his grapple gun, he flew up the side of the building and made his way towards the goons.

“Trust me”, the first one spoke again, “He won’t even realise we’re gone, plus we might find some chicks to-”.

Perching on the railings above them, Jason leapt down cracking the base of his pistols onto one of their heads.

“Pleasure to meet you both”, Jason kicked out at the second goon hearing the sick crack of his ankle snapping.

Spinning on his heel, Jason grabbed the other goon and threw him face first into the brick wall knocking him unconscious immediately before turning back to the other man on the floor whimpering in pain.

“Where is she?”, Jason’s voice was strained even with the modulator protecting him.

The man refused to answer, dragging himself away from Jason with his hands, mud covering his palms.

Taking a large step, Jason reached the man on the floor and purposely stood onto his swollen ankle before aiming the cocked pistol towards his skull.

“I won’t ask again, where is she?”.

The screech from the man was deafening as Jason applied a hefty amount of pressure to his fractured bone.

“Basement!! She’s in the basement!! Please!!”, he begged as his eyes flickered nervously to the gun.

Jason rolled his shoulders before smashing the hilt of his pistol into his skull knocking him out cold. He turned back towards the fire escape and grappled back up to the roof. He’d have to make his way through the building to get to the basement. To you. And if he knew Joker, he wouldn’t have made it that easy. The two idiots on the front door were a sick joke. Tormenting Jason. Getting you back wouldn’t be an easy task.

~~~

Silently dropping through the window on top of the building, Jason landed onto one of the rusty steel girders. It was dark but his helmet adjusted the night vision so he could see clearly. Several goons patrolling an old foreman’s office in the centre. You had to be in there. He needed to take these idiots out quietly before getting to you.

Swinging across to the next rafter, Jason looked down at the first unsuspecting moron. With the stealth of a panther, he landed silently behind the goon before wrapping his arm around his meaty neck. He struggled against the iron grip of Jason’s forearm but the pressure only intensified the more he thrashed. Eventually the squirming stopped and the goon fell limp in his arms. Jason dragged him across to a darkened corner and dumped him behind some barrels.

As he grappled back up to roof beams, he looked down across at the two henchmen digging out a packet of cigarettes. The idiots had left their guns resting against the far wall. Jason had to chuckle to himself, Joker really was hiring morons. Weren’t these guys supposed to be protection? 

Jason creeped across the rafters towards the two men and grabbed both of his pistols. He had to be silent. He couldn’t alert Joker to his presence.

“This is my last smoke”, one complained bitterly as the cigarette perched between his thin lips.

“I’ll get the next packet, quit your whining”, the second growled and patted his jacket for a lighter, “Fuck, where did I put my lighter?”.

“You’re a fucking moron. You asked to come for a smoke and you don’t even have a light!!”.

Now was his chance. Jason landed between them both, his boots thudding as he hit the concrete floor, “You know, smoking is bad for your health”. Before either of the goons could react, Jason lifted his elbow into the larger man's throat before smashing his pistol into the other man's temple, causing him to drop onto his knees. He slipped his guns back into his holsters quickly before turning to the other goon. He dodged the larger man’s grapple before twisting with ease and kicking out his kneecap. The man gasped but the elbow to his throat had killed off his voice.

Jason threw a heavy right hook into the larger man's nose and watched the blood trickle down his face. This seemed to only infuriate him more and he launched himself towards Jason viciously. Gripping both of his arms, Jason flipped the man over his body and slammed him into the floor hard before hammering punch after punch to his face, knocking him unconscious.

He turned quickly to the other man who was scrambling on his knees for the gun resting against the far wall.

“Sorry bud, but that can’t happen”, Jason grunted and landed a heavy kick to the goons stomach. The man yelped but it was quickly cut off by Jason as he slammed his boot into his face. He dropped onto the floor instantly.

Jason panted heavily and looked around the room, his helmet advising him of one more goon loitering around the door of the office. Looking down at the floor he noticed the floor grates wrapped around the room and more importantly under the henchmen’s feet. Perfect.

He lifted one of the grate coverings quietly and slipped under the flooring. He crouched down and edged around the room. The last goon was much larger and bulkier, with a machine gun strapped around his wide chest.

This goon seemed smarter than the others. Looking around and even checking up in the rafters. He grunted and pressed a button on his jacket, “No boss, still no sign of them...nothing Sir”.

The voice that patched through sent a chill down Jason’s spine. It was a tone that would be forever cemented in his mind, a reminder of his own torment.

“If you get ANY inclination the bat or any of his costumed freaks are in the building, you tell me immediately”.

“Yes boss”.

The static of the radio crackled before cutting off completely. Jason cursed mentally. This had to be precise. Perfection. He had to disable the henchman’s radio unit. Padding over his jacket he searched for the disrupter shooter he had. It wasn’t there. Fuck. He’d fucked up in his rush and left it behind. Fuck. Bruce was right. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Then he heard it. A soft ping from above him. He knew that sound. Jason looked up from the grate and spotted Nightwing hidden in the shadows with his own disrupter. Pointed directly at the goon’s radio system.

“Thought you might need a hand”, Dick patched into Jason’s com line.

Jason growled under his breath, “Thanks”.

“Shall we take this moron out together?”.

“Yes”, Jason muttered before switching his com off and inched closer to the goon.

The second Nightwing flew down from the roof beams, Jason jumped out of the floor grate and kicked out the back of the goons knees. He cursed loudly before Nightwing’s foot landed in his face.

Jason swore he saw a tooth fly out of his mouth along with a glob of blood. He aimed several hard punches to the side of the henchman’s head whilst Nightwing disabled his gun and radio with a graceful poise.

“All this for the girl? She’s nothing but a shell”, the goon smirked across at Jason before choking at the next punch.

“Joker’s hollowed her out...she’s nothing”, he spat out.

His temper flared and his hand subconsciously reached for his pistol. Dick realised and before anything could happen, he landed an electrical ecrisma blow to the goons head, knocking him out cold. His body crashed onto the floor with a loud thump.

“Jason-”.

“Don’t”, Jason cut him off, “I’m fine”.

He took several steps towards the office door and swallowed thickly. You. You’d be in there. You’d told Joker with the last ounce of confidence left that he’d come for you. He’d never leave you. You were right. Jason would never have stopped looking. Ever.

His hand rested on the door handle, trembling only slightly. What if he was too late. What if this was just another trick?

Drawing his hand back almost as though the door had burnt him. He frowned. He couldn’t think like this. No. He had to be strong. Just like you had been in all those videos. You’d been fierce. Your spirit still pouring through to him.

Jason glared angrily at the door and took a step back before kicking it open furiously with his combat boot. The door flew open wildly and as the dust settled. He saw Joker stood in the middle of the room, a sick, satisfied smirk sat proudly on his demented face.

~~~

“Jason my boy! It’s a pleasure to see you again”, his chuckle was deep and sinister, “I see you're still hiding your face though...is that because of what I did?”. The Joker’s eyes danced with delirious joy at the memories.

“I’d have thought you’d have embraced all your scars by now Jason...”, The Joker edged forward leaving you tied up behind him.

Jason rounded The Joker, clicking a button to the side of his mask, revealing his face, his eyes hidden with the domino mask, “I’ve got nothing to hide from you, clown”.

Jason let his eyes run over you for a second. You were bruised and bloodied. Clothes torn and tattered from mistreatment. Your eyes. God. Your beautiful E/C eyes. Red raw from countless tears. Somehow you still managed to give him a smile from behind The Joker. His heart fluttered. God he’d missed your smile.

Tearing his eyes from you he looked back towards The Joker and held his pistols out at him, finger hovering over the trigger. Jason felt the burn mark on his cheek stinging all over again. Pain ever present.

“You don’t have the guts”, The Joker laughed again and walked forward pressing his forehead into the barrel of the gun.

“You wouldn’t dare pull that trigger. I’m your Ace card Jason. You can’t kill me. You want to but you can’t...something will always stop you”.

Jason felt his hand shaking slightly. Everything was throbbing in his mind.

“Even after everything I’ve done to your girl, you still can’t pull that trigger”, The Joker taunted further and grinned sadistically.

“If only you knew where I’d touched...what I’ve done...”, he pushed further into the cold metal of the gun and winked at Jason, “Go on, do it, I dare you...if you don’t- I’m just going to keep coming back and who knows what I’ll do to our little princess next-”.

BANG.

A gun shot blasted through the air. Smoke drifted slowly from the barrel, dancing into the darkness around them.

“JASON!”.

Nightwing had thrown one of his ecrisma sticks to Jason’s gun, knocking it off target. The bullet shattered the brickwork behind them, dust erupting.

Crashing down through one of the broken windows on top of the office roof, Nightwing flew towards The Joker tackling him down onto the damp, concrete floor before he could launch himself at Jason.

Still startled, Jason watched Dick wrestling with The Joker on the floor, punches flying back and forth.

Dick turned to Jason, “Y/N-Jason!! Go get Y/N!! I’ll handle this!”.

The Joker was shrieking with laughter underneath Dick, blood pouring down his lip and from his nose.

“Ahhhh another boy blunder!! I must be lucky!! Two for the price of one!”.

Dick threw another punch and reached for the second ecrisma stick on his back, “I can’t wait to cart you back to the Asylum. I hope you’re looking forward to your 5 star stay in a windowless cesspit!”.

Jason could hear Joker continually laughing at Dick, until the sharp sound of electrical buzzing cut him off with a loud scream.

He almost fell over his own feet as he raced towards you. Jason quickly untied your hands and the second they were free you flung them around his neck, sobbing into his neck. Your tears dropping onto his brown leather jacket.

“Oh baby”, Jason stroked your hair and held you tightly to him. He was worried he was crushing you but you seemed to be squeezing him back just as hard.

You didn’t stop sobbing. The overwhelming emotion of being wrapped in his safe, strong arms make your knees buckle. Jason caught you with ease and lifted you up, “It’s ok baby, I’ve got you. I’ve always got you”.

Jason was one step away from breaking down himself but he needed to be strong for you right now.

You pressed your skin against his, the scratch of his stubble a welcome sting against your cheek. His scent overwhelmed you. Leather. Gunpowder. Smoke. And something distinct you’d never been able to place.

“Jason”.

“Shhh, it’s ok - nothing is going to hurt you, I’m here now - I’m a bit late but I’m here”.

~~~

It had been one week since you’d been back home. Two weeks if you counted the first week you and Jason spent holed up in the manor. Bruce had insisted. You sat in the bathtub, knees pressed up against your bare chest. Silence. All you could hear was the faint crackle of the bubbles every now and again. The clinical white tiles of the bathroom made you feel a little cleaner.

However,  no matter how many baths you took, showers you stood in, you still couldn’t wipe the feel of the slick purple gloves off your skin. Your skin. Skin that was now marred with yellowish bruising. Almost faded physically but not mentally. Looking over the marks you felt yourself transported back into the desolate warehouse. The dank smell of stagnant water filling your nostrils. You choked and coughed loudly, suddenly feeling the oxygen clam up your throat. Drowning in the memories.

“Y/N??”.

Within a mere second Jason had flung open the bathroom door, red tinting his cheek and a little sweat on his forehead, “Sweetheart are you ok?”.

You noted how he chose to call you sweetheart now and not his usual princess. A stark reminder that this whole ordeal had affected him too, more than he’d admitted. You felt the guilt eat away at you. Shame burning at your feet.

“Y-yeah, I’m ok”, you mumbled quietly and swirled some of the water and bubbles around you, “I just accidentally swallowed some of the bath water, I’m sorry”.

Jason nodded although not quite believing you. He closed the door behind him and sat on the edge of the tub taking a deep breath, “It’s ok to not be ok sweetheart...I know it can be difficult to admit that...I know that more than most”, he wiped a stray bubble from the rim of the tub. He looked at you deeply before continuing, “I’ll be here for you...whenever and whatever you need”.

You sat silently in the water and he moved to get up. Maybe he thought it was best to leave you alone, let you uncover your own emotions. Process what had happened. You gripped his wrist and looked up into the crystal blue of his eyes, “Jason”.

“Yeah babe?”, he turned his wrist in your hand and linked his fingers with yours.

“I love you”.

He smiled and squeezed your hand before whispering back, “I love you too, more than you know”.

He looked over you and moved to sit back on the edge of the bath. His spare hand reached out and cupped your chin lovingly, stroking over your skin.

“We’ll work through this together Y/N, I promise”, Jason murmured and leaned forward kissing your forehead lightly, “I’ll do whatever you need me to do...anything at all”.

The words, the touches, the kiss. It made your heart flutter and you fell even more in love with him. Jason made the impossible possible and you had no idea how he managed it every day. You felt so lucky.

“I - I struggle some d-days”, you admitted and with those words you felt a little lighter, “sometimes all I want is for you to hold me and not let me go...Sometimes I-I f-feel like that for hours...”.

“Well then I’ll hold you for hours”, he said simply.

You scoffed lightly but before you could protest or think of arguing back he was stepping into the bath water fully clothed.

“Jay!! You’re going to flood the bathroom”, you gasped loudly, watching the water splash over the sides like dramatic tidal waves. Water dispersed all over the bathroom floor to make way for his broad frame, “What are you doing?!”.

Jason sunk down into the water behind you and wrapped his arms either side, pulling you back into his clothed chest. He rested his head on your shoulder, pressing a chaste kiss there, “Holding you for as long as you need me to”.

You felt yourself melt into his warm embrace. Tears made their way down your cheeks at his endearing show of love, “Jason”.

“Shhh, just let me hold you baby”, he cuddled you tighter into him, his fingers stroking your hips under the water, brushing away the bruises. Marking you with his own special touch.

Relaxing under his soft caresses, you hummed lightly and closed your eyes resting your head back against him. He smelt like leather and spice. You felt at home. He was home.

“Jay”.

“Mmm?”.

“Please call me princess”, you whispered quietly into the air, your eyes still closed.

“Whatever you want...princess”.

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Special Thanks: @offendedfishnoises​​ @internalsealpanic​​ @batarella​​ - thank you both for proof reading this and all the help you have given me - mwah mwah. xoxo

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