#he needs a name so bad. my files just call him 'green guy'

[finnyinspace]

[crustaceousfaggot]

Why you should give Text Adventure games a try (and how to do so)

There is not nearly enough love for Text Adventure Games here on Tumblr. Or anywhere really. But especially here, I feel like you guys would really get a kick out of them. Here's why:

(quick note, I'm gonna be using the words Text Adventure and Interactive Fiction pretty interchangeably here. Technically that's not perfectly accurate, they are technically different things, but I don't care to explain the difference Just roll with it.)

So

Do you like weird short stories told through unconventional mediums? That's most of what Interactive Fiction is

You like story based video games but hate the finicky combat? Congrats, there is literally no combat skill required beyond the ability to type "hit guard with crowbar"

Blind or visually impaired? Since these games are (with a few exceptions) entirely text based, they work great with a screen reader!

Sick of profit motivated AAA titles with no creative integrity? Well, these games are almost always produced by a single nerd (usually a horrid amalgamation of computer geek and literature geek) with no budget and no responsibilities of the product they're making. And they're usually not paid, since these games are free. Text Adventure is a labour of love, and in most games you can feel the care and effort the creator has put into the game.

Sick of spending $20-70 on a video game? Lucky you, I've been playing TA for years and I have not spent a cent in doing so (Fallen Londen will try to make you pay. But Fallen Londen sucks and is run by bigots. Fuck Fallen London.) Games are either available free on a browser, or as free, small downloadable files (most of which can be played using the Parchment Interpreter)

Wish you read more, but reliant on the quick dopamine of digital media? Well now you can read while also being an active participant in the narrative.

Bad at puzzles? Me too! Games from the 80s and 90s, as well as more famous newer games, have walkthroughs and hints easily available online. Newer games tend to either have a "hint" command, or come with a walkthrough file.

Do you like weird surrealist horror? Well there's... A lot of it.

Okay, but where do I start?

So there are two types of text adventure. The one you might be more accustomed to, and which sees more modern use, is called Hypertext Interactive Fiction. The other is called Parser Interactive Fiction, it's generally seen in older games, as well as games that are larger, feature more puzzles, or involve more exploration.

Hypertext games

Basically, the game will give you a scenario, and then a list of options (hypertext links) to click on to decide what to do next. These are usually more beginner friendly since you don't need to fiddle around with parsers, but personally I find them a bit limiting. Nonetheless, if you're new to Text Adventure, they're a good place to start.

Some of my favourites hypertext games (summaries in green)

My Father's Long, Long Legs is an interactive horror story about family, unease, and loss. Really more of a story than a game, but still good. Very nice use of sound. It does have some visual aspects, so this one might not work with screen readers

Scene Kid Simulator is pretty much what it says on the tin. A cute, nostalgic, coming-of-age slice of life story from the POV of a 2000s scene preteen. Nothing special, but a fun time.

The Uncle Who Works at Nintendo is a strange, unconventional, witty, and heartfelt horror game. Your friend has an uncle who he says works for Nintendo. You're about to meet him, or so he says. A fun and spooky look at childhood, childhood friendships, and childhood lies.

16 Ways to Kill a Vampire at McDonald's is... A joy to play. The name says it all honestly. Witty, charming, tense, engaging, and emotional when it wants to be. I actually found this one through a lucky Tumblr Blaze, which makes sense since this is perfectly suited to Tumblr sensibilities. This one has more puzzle aspects than most hypertext games, but it's still relatively easy and beginner friendly. You're a vampire hunter. It's your night off, and you go to McDonald's. But there's something wrong with the customer sitting beside you...

Toadstools is a game about hunting mushrooms. You have trespassed in a national park and you are wandering blindly through the woods looking for rare fungi. Good luck :)

Parser games

Okay these fuckers are where I really get excited. These games have the classic flashing cursor line where you input text like "go north", "search bookshelf", or "kiss my husband", and the game's rudimentary AI parses your input to decide what happens next. These are my favourites. They really allow you the feeling of exploring the game world, immerse you in the protagonist and the story, using just text on a screen and simple inputs. This does make them considerably more difficult, since a) you need to decide the right way to phrase what you want to do, otherwise it won't work, and b) more possibilities means more chances to mess up and miss things. Unlike video games, your cursor won't light up when you see something important, you'll have to search stuff and work things out on your own But, in my opinion, it is so, so worth it. Summaries in red

The first text adventure game I ever played was One Eye Open. It's an extremely graphic and gory medical horror game (although I would consider it tasteful medical horror, in that it never derives horror from medical procedures, disability, or ooOoHh gross scary sick people) You play as a volunteer test subject for a medical research facility, having to unravel the mystery of the hospital's bloody past. It's good. It's fun. It's tense. It has some really dumb mechanics. Don't play if you're sensitive to descriptions of gore, death, or corpses. This one doesn't have a walkthrough, but I've played it enough times to know the puzzles by heart, DM me if you need help.

Anchorhead is possibly my favourite piece of interactive fiction I've ever played. It's incredible. You play as a newlywed woman, moving to the small seaside town of Anchorhead after your husband Michael inherited a mansion from some distant relatives. There's something wrong with the town though. There's definitely something wrong with your husband's mysterious ancestors. And you're starting to think that there might be something strange happening to Michael. Get ready for some wonderfully atmospheric and immersive Lovecraftian horror, action sequences that are incredibly vibrant for Text Adventure, and a super compelling mystery that the game lets you work out on your own. The puzzles here are hard. I'm not gonna lie, I used a walkthrough at several points during this game. But my god it's worth it. Big massive huge content warning here for mentions of incest, sexual assault, and pedophilia. Not in excess, and nothing explicit, but it will be mentioned as part of the story.

Little Blue Men is a short, strange, sci-fi-ish horror-ish comedy-ish game by the same author as Anchorhead, though the two games are wildly different. You are an office worker. Cope with it. Take The Stanley Parable, Stella Firma, and Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, mash 'em together, and you have Little Blue Men. It's bizarre. It's evocative. It's pretty darn good.

Coloratura is a strangely beautiful sci-fi story. You're a weird little alien blob. You've been separated from your home and are trapped aboard a human spaceship. You need to get home, need to make the humans understand in the only ways you can: color and song.

Slouching Towards Bedlam is a brilliant little steampunk game about language, choice, cults, Armageddon, and triangles. This game has multiple endings. It's neat in that none of the endings are really "good" or "bad". Rather, you need to decide where you stand, and act in the way you think is best.

The Lurking Horror is the grandparent of horror interactive fiction, released in the late 80s. You're a tech student in university. Something more than electricity is powering the school's computers. Find it, but don't die along the way. Besides the comically archaic descriptions of computers, this game doesn't feel all that dated. It's tricky, puzzle-heavy, and charmingly surreal. (Fun fact, this game and another old TA game called Zork inspired the "darkness kills you" mechanic which would later be popularized in Don't Starve!)

Nine Lives is a very short, very weird, very cartoony game where you play a cat that is very bad at staying alive. Cw for non-graphic but repeated cat death.

Spider and Web is one of the most ingenious uses of Text Adventure as a medium I've ever seen. It's famous for having one of, if not the singular best puzzles in video game history. It's tense, it's fast-paced, it introduces you to mechanics slowly and then lets you test them out on your own. I won't spoil too much, but you play as a very badass spy, reliving your brilliant heist during an interrogation. This game even features a character destined to be a Tumblr Sexyman. It really has it all.

If anyone actually read through all this, and has even considered playing any of these games, I'll be a little surprised. This post turned out a lot longer than I wanted it to be. It was meant to just be "hey interactive fiction is a cool and underappreciated medium, go check it out", but this is my special interest, and not one I often get to talk about. I guess this was me infodumping to the only place that will listen, the empty void of the internet. But these games are fun. And they do not get enough love. Text games are a dying genre, if they're not dead already. Give them a chance, show them some love.

[sl-newsie]

Behind Masks (Dr. Jonathon Crane x OC) Ch. 3: New Friends

“Wakey wakey, sunshine.”

The guard from earlier pounds on the door and rustles me awake from a restless sleep. All night I've been fighting invisible demons. They're not real but that doesn't mean the toxin leaves no impression. I don’t know how long I’ve been unconscious and no clue at all to what time it is.

“First you shower. Then breakfast. Then group therapy.”

“Can I at least talk to a lawyer?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.

“Afraid not, princess.”

“It’s Prentiss,” I snarl sharply.

“Whatever. Get up before I drag you outta that bed myself.”

I do as I’m told and walk ahead into the hallway in the direction of the shower room-

“What the Hell do you think you’re doing?” The guard asks.

“I’m going to the shower room,” I reply simply.

After getting a closer look I see the guy’s name tag reads “Baxton.” He gives me a funny expression.

“How do you-?”

“Arkham’s blueprints are available to any other mental facility,” I remark as I continue, my shoes squeaking against the clean tiles. “My position in Metropolis encouraged me to study significant documents so I memorized Arkham’s basic files. The shower room is down the hall to the right and then twenty paces north.”

“B- But I can’t-” Baxton sputters.

“I’m not allowed anywhere without supervision,” I finish for him. “I’m well aware of the rules. I promise not to cause a fuss until my patience is worn out.”

“How long-?”

“You’ll just have to wait and find out.” I shrug and slam the shower room door shut, locking me in with Lord-knows how many other maniacs. All I have left to defend myself with is my wits. I take a look around the room and see only a few other female inmates. They’re quiet… for now.

I do quick work to bathe and refresh myself, dressing in clean clothes laid out on the counter. I go back to the door to find Baxton waiting with an irked look.

“The cafeteria is thirty paces north. No need to show the way,” I say nonchalantly and strut down the hall. Every once in a while an inmate catcalls me or shouts for me to talk to him but every one of their shrill cries rolls off like rainwater. I’ve dealt with numerous lunatics. What’s a few more?

The cafeteria looks similar to the one in Metropolis except that this one has one important difference: there’s bars between the inmates and the kitchen staff. 

“This is where I leave ya, princess,” Baxton says and walks away, twirling his baton.

I cringe. “It’s Prentiss.”

“You’ll get used to it,” a woman’s voice says.

The voice’s source is a lone inmate sitting at a corner table with a potted plant. At first I have to do a double-take to make sure I’m not seeing things. But it’s confirmed. This woman is green. Literally green. She’s woven multiple different plants into her prison uniform and even into her red hair. And her skin. Her skin is green. Is she feeling sick?

“Before you ask, no, I’m not seasick. It’s the plant and animal-based toxins into my bloodstream.” The woman holds out a hand and I shake cautiously. “Dr. Pamela Isley. Well, not doctor anymore. I lost that when I was admitted here.”

“How did you qualify for Arkham?” I ask carefully, not wanting to sound rude. “You seem level-headed.”

The woman chuckles. “You’re not too bad yourself. I’m here because my last scheme was ‘overly inhumane,’ if you call wanting to fill Gotham City Hall with venus fly traps inhumane.”

“Um, that’s not exactly a reasonable plan. What do you think is the problem from your perspective?”

Isley’s eyes flash. “That sounds like therapy talk. Did Quinzel send you in?”

Her sudden hostility makes me go stiff. “No, not at all. I am- was a psychiatrist, but now I’m locked up here because they couldn’t keep me quiet.”

Isley calms. “A whistleblower, huh? You’re right. They would lock someone up for something like that. Sit down, sit down!” She waves me over and I join her at the wobbling table. 

I notice her lack of a food tray. “Aren’t you going to eat?” 

Isley snorts. “The food here is far from being considered edible. I get most of my energy from the sun lamps and my babies provide me with all the nutrients I need.”

Her babies? Don’t question it, Calico. Just go with it.

“You mentioned someone named Quinzel. That wouldn’t happen to be Harleen Quinzel, would it? I met her at a convention in Central City.”

Isley nods. “She’s one of the youngest doctors here. Just started last year. You’ll meet her later. Has Crane come to see you yet?”

The name is a slap in the face that refreshes my memory of last night’s events. So far there haven’t been any more hallucinations, leading me to believe the toxin has left my system.

“He did last night. Mask and all.”

“Ah yes, the mask.” Isley rolls her eyes. “Did he try to get you to say your worst fear?”

“If you don’t mind I’d rather not talk about it. I know my fear and don’t want to reminisce over it. I’ve been doing that for the past year.” I look up to face Isley directly. “Have you been dosed yet?”

She snickers and lazily waves it off. “Honey no poison or toxin works on me. Crane doesn’t even bother to test it on me anymore. You’re saying it didn’t work much on you either? That would explain why he’s been in a sour mood all morning.”

Scree! Scree!

An alarm flashes throughout the room and the guards start gathering everyone up.

“Chow time is over, people! Get back to your cells! The rest of you get to group therapy!”

Already? Time must pass differently when you’re in prison. Isley gets up and starts walking to the back door.

“You’re probably in group therapy with me.”

“I don’t need therapy. I need a lawyer.”

She shakes her head slowly. “Ah, I get it. You think you don’t belong in here either. Well here’s the bad news: nobody cares. All anyone cares about is that they get paid and we stay quiet.”

It’s worse than I thought. It’s one thing for wealthy officials to be corrupted but it’s deeper than that. If anything, each and every person in Gotham is under someone else’s thumb.

“Do we go see Crane now?” I ask Isley. “Does he conduct group therapy?”

“Heavens, no. Crane only does personal consultations with patients he finds interesting. He’s sulking in his office right now.”

Baxton has returned. He ushers Isley and me to the door. I follow her down a drafty narrow passage into a small room with fluorescent lights. A circle of chairs has been arranged in front of a whiteboard. We’re not the first ones here. A man wearing glasses is muttering to himself and when he sees me his eyes go wide with delight.

“A new face! Perfect! Riddle me this: I have billions of eyes, yet I live in darkness. I have millions of ears, yet only four lobes. I have no muscle, yet I rule two hemispheres. What am I?”

“Can it, Nigma,” Isley pushes him. “You don’t need to freak the newbie out on the first day with your childish-”

“The human brain.”

Both Isley and the riddle man look at me with open-jawed surprise. Before they can respond the door opens and an older woman wearing a white lab coat enters. Her bob cut and soft eyes allow me to relax a tad. This is my chance to talk my way out!

“Good morning everyone. Allow me to introduce myself to our newest arrival. I’m Dr. Joan Leland. What’s your name?”

This is it.

“I’m Dr. Calico Prentiss, from Hell’s Gate Psychiatric Institution in Metropolis. Please ma’am, you have to let me speak to a lawyer. There is no proof of me ever having poor mental health.”

Dr. Leland sits back with an attentive expression but makes no move to approve my request.

“Thank you for sharing, Calico. Would anyone else like to introduce themselves?”

“B- But what about-?”

“Nobody cares, Callie,” Isley reminds me. “She’ll just sit here with a cheap smile plastered on her face until the hour’s over.”

The riddle man laughs. “I am unpredictable, but you still rely on me. My installments give you the experience of life for free. I offer no refunds, returns, or exchanges. What am I?”

I roll my eyes. “It’s time. Can we get back to the subject?”

But we don’t. Instead Leland makes us write down our regrets. I do what’s expected and write the usual BS- I wish I was more social, I wish I accomplished more goals, blah blah blah. The whole time Isley keeps stroking the potted plant in her lap and the riddle guy keeps asking me questions. At the end of the session Leland has us all play Minecraft, a game that’s incredibly overrated and gives me a splitting headache.

“How are video games group therapy?” I ask, frustrated after getting stuck underground.

“It shows how you can handle anger.”

Definitely a new therapeutic technique. The surprisingly tense game goes on for another ten minutes until Leland ends the session. Once she’s gone Isley pats me on the back.

“Not bad for your first day.”

“Why aren’t there more inmates in the group?” I ask.

“Croc’s in solitary and Tetch is in the hospital wing for food poisoning,” the man with the glasses informs me.

Ivy clears her throat. “Now it’s time for proper introductions, since you’ve earned my trust. My friends call me Poison Ivy.”

Poison Ivy. That’s why she looks familiar. The green skin, the plants, everything. About a year ago there was a news story about a botanist who surrounded the Gotham waste facility with thorns and vines. I should count my blessings. Out of all the Gotham criminals I could run into, Ivy seems like a potential ally.

“My name is Nigma, Edward Nigma,” the riddle man gives my hand a shake. 

“Calls himself the Riddler,” Ivy explains. “For obvious reasons.”

“What belongs to you, but others will use it?”

“Nigma, really?” Ivy drones.

“It’s your name,” I reply in an even voice. 

Nigma’s smile widens. “Exactly! Bravo, princess!”

Another cringe jerks through my body and I flash a warning look. “It’s Prentiss.”

The man gets an ‘a-ha’ moment. “Ah, I see. The use of pet names must trigger unpleasant memories for you. Perhaps abuse? Rape? Neglectful childhood-? Christ!”

Nigma’s guessing is cut off when my fist collides with his nose. I’m almost as surprised as Ivy. Why am I letting this man’s taunting curiosity get to me? I’ve dealt with tougher jabs than this. Crane’s toxin must have taken a bigger toll than I thought.

Nigma holds his nose and patches it up while Ivy can’t stop smiling.

“You had it coming, Nigma.” Ivy shrugs. “She just has the guts to do what we’ve been wanting to do since day 1.”

Nigma rolls his eyes. “It’s not my fault life’s full of questions, Ms. Isley. Apologies, Calico.” He blots the blood off his jumpsuit. “At least this new Batman character seems like a worthy opponent. I shall concoct a glorious cornucopia of riddles for when I escape.”

Batman? What’s he talking about? What kind of lunatic…?

“When?” Ivy interrupts my train of thought. “Don’t you mean if?”

“I know what I said, Isley. It’s only a matter of time.”

She huffs. “No chance you’ll let us in on your little crime spree?”

Nigma doesn’t answer right away. He seems to be deep in thought and after a while he jumps up to scribble something on a scrap piece of paper with a small pen. We’re not allowed utensils so he must have smuggled it in.

“What say you, Prentiss? Ready to get out?”

Don’t hold a grudge, Calico. Remember you’re in a mental asylum. Edward’s just being nice, in his own weird way.

“To quote from Ivy, I’ve been ready since day 1. But I have more personal and sane means of escape.” I stand up and walk back to lean against the wall, my eyes glaring through Nigma’s skull. “Watch your back, Nigma. Pry into my psychosis again and I’ll make your life a living nightmare.”

“Isn’t that Crane’s job?”

I shrug casually. “Who’s to say a few doses of fear toxin won’t go missing and end up in your cologne bottle?”

“While I do appreciate the motive,” the professor of fear himself walks into the room and I feel my heart rate double. “And am honored that you would use my toxin for revenge, I must require that you ask for it nicely, Ms. Prentiss.”

Crane and I lock in a cold stare that goes uninterrupted until Nigma claps his hands with fake enthusiasm.

“Oh, look. Dr. Lunatic is back.”

Crane sighs and looks down at Nigma with annoyment. Clearly a silent battle of brains is brewing between the two. Ivy seems to know it as well.

“Admit it, John. You’re just as sick as the rest of us.”

The lanky doctor pinches the bridge of his nose and goes on to look through the clipboard he’s carrying. “Correction, I use my own unique genius to my advantage instead of creating mindless riddles.”

Edward puts a hand to his heart. “Ouch. What’s got you riled up, sack-head?”

“Have you seen the news?” Crane sees my confused expression and gets a wicked smirk. “Oh, right. No outside sources. Well, there’s a new face in Gotham. A masked vigilante the reporters are calling Batman.”

I set my jaw straight. He can belittle me with my outdated information all he wants. “Another mask? Sounds like your type.”

My comment flies over his head. Ivy and Nigma both share the same muffled chuckle. I’m beginning to take a liking to these inmates. Yes their ideas are insane to say the least but their laid-back take on life in Arkham makes up for it.

[lavendertownsghost]

The hatched QSMP eggs are done! I really want to figure out what mod lets the admins look like eggs and try and add these guys as a side-mod. I'd need to figure out how to animated them though.

you can download these guys here (contains .blend and .obj files for each kid): https://www.mediafire.com/file/tqj4axkhkeiywwc/DragonEggs.zip/file

I did my best to make each kid look unique and also a bit like their parents, so I'll add my reasoning below the cut!

First off, all the kids (except for Tilín, JuanaFlippa, and Trump) have their main body color based off the colored signs they use. I tried to incorporate any of the kid's favorite colors as well. Also when I mention clothing i simply mean that's how the markings look on the dragons.

Bobby only used light blue signs once, but I still used that as his man body color. His armbands are from Roier and his pink wings / fading to pink tail are from Jaiden. both of their skins have black eyes so Bobby does as well.

Chayanne's diamond wing markings and face markings are from Phil, and so are his green spikes/ fading to green tail. His boots and armbands are from Missa. His wika page says that "his eyes are the same color as enchanted slime armor" so I did my best to match that.

Dapper is obviously based solely off of Bad, and is only one of three to have non-white sclera since I felt like it fit with his vibe.

JuanaFlippa has no sign color, so I made her green since none of the others are (and I feel like that would have been her sign color anyways). The dark splotches on her head and arm are from Slime's skin, as well as the red markings on her chest. the fading to yellow tail / spikes/ and boots and gloves are from Mariana. Both Slime and Mariana's skins have brown eyes so Flippa does as well (even though you can't really see them behind the glasses).

Leonarda's favorite color is purple and she's the first one to get a colored sign! Just wanted to mention that. The dark parts of her skin are from the shark part of Foolish's skin, as well as her green eyes. the gold on her arms/legs are from Vegetta and the gold spikes are from both. Her fading to blue tail is just because I thought it looked nice.

Pomme (and Richas) have more busy designs since I needed to incorporate aspects from five different people. The sad face on her back is from Antoine, her orange muzzle is from Baghera, her yellow shoes are from Aypierre, the symbol on her wings are from Etoiles, and her armbands are from Kameto. I gave her heterocromia opposite her face markings because.

Ramón is mostly based off of Fit (knee pads, brown wings/spikes/eyes/grey circle on his chest) but he does have faint lighter markings on his arms and his snout from Spreen. He has brown sclera because white blended into his body to much.

Richarlyson also had a very busy design. His goggle are from Cellbit, the marking on his back legs or from Forever, his armbands are from Felps, the markings on his wings are from Pac, and his boots are from Mike. his fading to green tail is because several of his fathers have green in their original skins (also it looked good). Also his back left leg is the one i think is his bad leg, so I made it a prosthetic.

Tallulah is based solely off Wilbur, and for her I decided to do gradients to yellow since it looked like a sunrise almost and she is everyone's ray of sun! Also her favorite color is purple so that's why she has purple eyes.

Tilín is based solely off Quackity, but I decided to have her split down the middle since Quackity's original story for his character was the he was split into two people. Her favorite colors are pink and blue, so her body is pink and her eyes are blue.

Trump's files are called 'Trumpet' since I didn't want to leave my progress open and my roommate to see a file just called 'Trump' (Why did they name him that. why). He also never got a colored sign, but orange fit for.... reasons. His knee/elbow guards are from Dan, and the markings on his sides are from the words on Maximus' skin.

I hope you guys like these!

[talesmaniac89]

Charity Heist 2 - aka. The Bad Guns

A Supernatural Heist AU - Masterlist

Pairing: Hitter!Dean x Thief!Reader

Summary: The Singer & Winchester Retrieval Agency is the best group of con artists in the world. But even though Y/N can crack safes, scale buildings and infiltrate even the most secure locations, she still can't find a way to deal with her all consuming feelings for the group's greek god of a hitter; Dean Winchester. How will she handle their next big heist, when she's forced to get up close and personal with the man of her dreams?

Warnings: Idiots in love, smutty thoughts, a lot of swearing and a ton of bad jokes.

Watch the trailer here

A/N: This story is 50% jokes and 50% dirty thoughts. No deep angst, just fun and action! Inspired by the series Leverage.

Y/N = Your Name

Start Here - Next

“Do we really need Crowley for this Bobby?” Dean grumbled, leaning back in his chair and pinching the bridge of his nose. Green eyes locked on the speaker in a small pleading attempt to make the big boss change his mind. 

And his eyes weren’t the only pair to look pleadingly at the small inanimate speaker version of Bobby in the middle of the table, even if the big guy couldn’t see them. There wasn’t a single pleased expression around the table at the thought of him joining the operation, though Dean looked the most put off by the thought of bringing in the middle man, by far. 

Which was understandable. 

The last time you’d had to team up with Crowley, Dean had to go undercover, pretending to be one of Crowley’s goons. And the career criminal had taken full advantage of that fact. Strutting around acting like the two of them were the bestest of buds. Apparently dragging your hitter along for cocktails and karaoke in the middle of the damn job. 

Dean had, understandably, hated every second of it. And you had too. If only because, with him going undercover, it meant that he wasn’t around for you to secretly oogle during the day. 

Yeah… You were a lost cause when it came to Dean. You’d long since learned to deal with it.

“Unfortunately we do need ‘im. To get the files, we need to locate the safe. My man on the inside already told me where to find it, but we still need to get eyes on it. And luckily, there’s another Charity Fundraiser happening in two nights' time,” Bobby said, repeating words you’d already skimmed through in the case brief.

“Trouble is, this party’s clearly just a cover. Apparently, from what I’ve heard, the guest list is any FBI or CIA agent’s wet dream. Only the scum of the earth is invited. So, we need Crowley to get us in through the door,”

Ah, that sounded right up Crowley’s alley. He considered himself the king of the underworld after all. If anyone could get their grabby paws on an extra invite or two, it’d be him. 

Crowley... You didn’t know the guy’s last name. Actually you were pretty sure he didn’t have one. Like Madonna, or Beyonce… Or, hell, Castiel. Either way, he was your big bad, with a self-proclaimed bleeding heart. 

Though personally you liked to think he meant the british bleedin’ and not the idiom for being an actual caring human being. ‘Cause you doubted that was true, the caring part, as well as the human part. Actually, you doubted the whole “heart” part altogether. The bastard was a snake in a tailored suit. The type that’d sell his soul for some spare change, or most likely con someone else into selling theirs in his stead. Since you doubted he even had one to sell.

Still, he was useful. 

Especially in cases that had to do with the mob. Since he kind of was the mob, or at least some sort of side branch of it. Did mobs have side branches? Like banks? Eh, you never cared enough to ask.

The sharply dressed and infuriatingly sassy man could get you anything with a snap of his fingers. Any information or easy access to an underground party would just seemingly materialize like magic when you involved him. 

He called it acquisition. Most of the time you called it blackmail. 

Didn’t mean you wanted to work with him though. So you’d rather try to find any other way than bringing him in. Hell, you’d rather involve his scam artist of a mother than him. Rowena had done a hell of a good job pretending to be a witch back in the Las Vegas con after all. Even if she had tried to steal the personnel files you were after for herself and had nearly escalated the heist into a damned riot.

“How about we play this like Dallas?” You shot out, leafing through the pages of the manila folder looking for the magical solution to your Crowley-shaped problem. Sam’s folders always magically had all the answers, but unfortunately there was no highlighted section about your little “Crowley problem”, which left only one possible solution… Dallas. 

The Dallas case had let you bypass bringing in a middle man. Instead Dean had been able to pose as one. Through a carefully crafted identity featuring a ranch owner turned drug lord whose name, and only name, was already known in all the wrong circles. It wasn’t a perfect fit, but you could probably make it work for this case too, with the right faceless identity. Even if it wouldn’t involve Dean dressed like a cowboy again. 

Damn it, you really missed the Dallas case.

“Don’t we have any identities that can work for us?” You added when Dean straightened in his seat next to you, looking absolutely giddy at the thought of not having to team up with Crowley again. Forest eyes shining brightly as he threw you a boyish grin for the quick thinking. Though the same smile easily fell when Bobby spoke up over the phone.

“No can do (Y/N). In Dallas we had an easy in, as far as fake identities go. These guys don’t trust easily. We need a face, not just a name,” 

You could almost hear how much the big boss hated turning down a plan that didn’t involve a middle man. Bobby didn’t like Crowley any more than you did, and the more people were involved in a heist, the easier it was for something to go wrong. But you clearly needed an extra pair of hands for this once. 

Fuck. Screw that and the horse it rode in on. 

You really didn’t want to work with Crowley. That man always meant trouble. And you knew he’d stab you in the back the first chance he got. Still, it seemed there was no way around it. You needed him for Bobby’s plan to work. Sure, you could infiltrate Mafia Central with the right tools and blueprints. But without eyes on the safe to confirm where it was, it was risky. 

Especially since you needed to get the money, the drive and know which personnel to send the cops after at the same time. So, an early look at the safe, and some easy pickpocketing of some credit- and ID cards at the party, was your best bet for laying the groundwork. That way you could come back on any other day and crack the safe while Charlie handled the accounts and Bobby leaked their names and whereabouts.

So, though none of you actually wanted to work with him you had to. Damn it. 

You really missed Dallas. 

---

After just a tiny bit more grumbling, Dean had given Crowley a quick call. Since the devil of a man seemed inexplicably drawn to him. Probably because Dean’s mercenary background made him a perfect pawn for Crowley’s constant attempts at subduing the underworld. 

Taking care not to clue him in on anything big, he’d been promised a nice finder’s fee for helping out. Before Dean had hung up as quickly as humanly possible. 

Yet another reason you hated working with the Scottish born mobster. It always meant there’d be less money for the rest of you, the charities and any victims. Since Crowley did nothing for free. Everything was a deal when it involved him. One littered with infuriating riddles; offering little up front unless you paid him well enough. 

Sure, you were paid a pretty penny from the heists as well, even if you did some heists fully pro-bono. But he tended to take things to another level. If it had been physically possible, he would’ve probably asked you for your soul as payment. Though you doubted yours was even worth a Happy Meal after all your illegal dealings throughout the years.

You’d shuddered as you heard him across the speaker phone, grimacing at the phone like the totally grown up adult you were. But, with the right number of zeroes offered, he had easily agreed, even though you hadn’t given him much to go on. Past telling him you needed entry into a little shindig. He’d get the rest of the info face to face, where you could spot any tell that would let you know if he was scheming something. 

Who were you kidding? Crowley was always scheming something. Damn him and his damned schemes, deals and perfect suits. And his sass. He was snarkier than you, and you didn’t like it when you weren’t the snarkiest person in the room.

In short… You really didn’t like him. 

Which was why you were busy trying convincing Dean to help you rig a bomb to Crowley’s chair while you waited for him to arrive. After all, he was a bad guy, and you dealt with bad guys. Just, not usually in the ‘transactional’ sense. Which in this case, was exactly what was about to happen. 

“Just one little bomb?” Leaning against the war room table, you threw the gorgeous man a small conspiratory smile as you nodded towards the chair. Eyes bright as you sipped on your second cup of coffee that morning, since you needed more caffeine if you had to deal with that level of sass before noon. 

“Pretty please?” 

Batting your lashes at him didn’t seem to be working however. As the charming bastard only laughed at your suggestion, which, as always, did dirty things to your mind and body. The butterflies in your stomach doing somersaults as you were rewarded with a bright smile that made his forest green eyes crinkle. 

“I don’t think Bobby would take too kindly to you blowing up our base of operation just to teach Crowley a lesson (Y/N),” He chuckled, his deep voice traveling the length of your spine and nearly turning you into a puddle. All deep, spicy and smooth like whiskey. 

“I said one little bomb. Like a firecracker on speed. It’d sting like a son of a bitch, but it probably wouldn’t kill him,” You pouted, which only teased another loud laugh out of Dean as he leaned against the table next to you giving your shoulder a friendly nudge before he refocused on the case. His small smile was still in place as he opened Sam’s folder to read through the information once more.

Leaving you scowling into your cup of coffee and wishing you could replace it with something stronger, as your group of vigilante con artists were forced to make a deal with the devil.

---

With the right finder fee, big bad tended to move fast when summoned. 

So, there Crowley was, just a few hours later. A cup of coffee in his hand and lounging in a bomb-free chair like it was a throne. Like he owned your bunker. 

Ok, so maybe it wasn’t exactly your bunker, but it was the closest thing you’d ever had to a home. And you definitely had more claim to it than the ‘Snarky Scotsman™’ lounging infuriatingly across from you. 

You didn’t know how someone could lounge “infuriatingly”, but Crowley somehow managed to pull it off. Or maybe it was the lack of fireworks when he sat down, paired with his cocky smirk, that infuriated you. Either way, you were thoroughly vexed, and it hadn’t even been an hour.

You’d already caught him up on the details he needed to know for his role in the plan. And only what he needed to know. All in bullet pointed format with just the bare necessities of information. 

He didn’t even get a folder. Which had to mean Sammy really didn’t like him, even though you had to work the case together. 

“I might need some extra… Incentive, if you want me to help with this case,” Crowley drawled, one eyebrow lifted and his index and thumb rubbing together in the international gesture for ‘pay up or shut up’.

“These boys don’t play around after all,”

“So they’re bad guys, big deal… We handle bad guys all the time,” You whined, stretching your legs to allow yourself some movement and stop from going stir crazy in your chair. Your conversation with Crowley had already lasted long enough, and you just wanted the heist to get started. 

The bastards were bad, you stopped bad guys. When guys like Crowley got in the way it tended to make you a tiny bit antsy. 

“Bad? These guys are beyond bad pet…” He chuckled, a lazy smile thrown your way. You hated it when he used pet names for you instead of your actual name. That one wasn’t actually due to disliking the Scotsman; you just straight up hated nicknames and pet names. Always had, since your days acting like the organization’s thieving puppy… 

Your handler had been big on pet names. So they disgusted you. Unless of course they came from Dean. If they came from him they just made you all tingly like a teenager on a hormone high. 

“They’re ice cold, practically soulless… Demons,” Crowley added when you didn’t respond straight away. His voice dropped an octave as he winked at you from where he was lounging. Smirking as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, not even trying to hide how he was eyeing you up from across the table.

“If they’re demons you must be the devil,” You muttered, knowing your comeback was already late. 

You just couldn’t deal with Crowley. He enjoyed messing with you, and as much as you grumbled and groaned whenever you were forced to work with him, it wasn’t like you could actually act on it and knock him out. Bobby would not like you knocking out his contacts. And truth be told, a life in the shadows meant your comeback skills could use some work when dealing with flirtatious men like him.

You’d had to flirt on cases before, and even had a few boyfriends from time to time. But that was all work. The boyfriends were covers, and the flirting was a scam. When someone actually tried to hit on you, then you had no clue what to do.

The fact that you never knew how to bite back to Crowley’s slight flirtation probably made you an easy target too. Though you tried to stay in constant motion not to get hit. You’d never been good at dealing with his type, or flirty comments. You attributed it to being too kind to outright reject people, though somehow not too kind to punch ‘em in the face if they deserved it. 

Kindness wasn’t really a great trait for a world renowned thief of all things shiny and expensive. If there was such a thing as a thief job interview, you’d definitely put that on top of your “greatest weaknesses” list. Was there such a thing as thief job interviews? You hadn’t really looked at craigslist for work since… Ever. 

Focus. 

Damn it, your hyperactive brain just wanted to be anywhere else other than near the damned crime lord. Running off into imagined rambles as you rolled your eyes, in part at his flirting and in part at your own shitty comeback.

“Harsh love,” Crowley grinned back over his coffee cup. 

Next to you, Dean’s body was tense, green eyes dark and unwavering where they focused on Crowley, though under the table, his hand was brushing against yours as he clenched it into a white knuckled fist. Barely managing to keep his other palm still and flat on the table with nothing but a slight tremble betraying how he seemed ready to reach for one of his many weapons at a moment’s notice. 

He never liked dealing with Crowley, and he liked it even less when the man focused his attention on anyone in your little high tech scooby team. 

After all, Dean saw you all as family. And you personally thought you did a very good job at pretending that being treated like a sister by your crush didn’t sting like a son of a bitch. A fucking Oscar worthy performance if there ever was one.

“I’d say I’m more the devil’s right hand man if anything,” Crowley drawled on, ignoring Dean’s angry look as he kept his eyes on you. Somehow keeping his back straight even when faced with the angry eyes and clenched jaw of a man who could kill him in more ways than you could even dream to count.

“So, are you going to help us or waste our time?” Dean shot back. His voice low and deep like thunder as his lips curled around the words. Swallowing down more angry words, he reached for the gun in his shoulder holster instead. Your hitter always had a weapon, or three, on him. And hell, even if he didn’t, he was basically a walking, talking weapon with a black belt in… Pretty much everything, as far as you knew. 

Damn it, Dean was dangerous, sure. But those slightly narrowed dark eyes, that clenched jaw with a dusting of stubble and the way his muscles tensed and relaxed like flowing water under his tight black t-shirt was absolutely lethal. Your poor heart could barely keep up. The man was really a weapon..

In more ways than one.

“Ok, sure… You need an in to their next Charity fundraiser hoax to catch these guys right?” Crowley asked, clearly sensing that he’d pushed the joke too far. Yet, he still kept lounging in the chair, shooting you a small smirk, as if you were in on some joke together. 

After all… He knew you needed him to pull off the heist; which meant he was a little too relaxed in the knowledge that Dean couldn’t kill him. Or even punch his lights out. At least not until after the party.

“I can get you in and provide you with a cover as my guests, but max four of you. One of you will have to stay behind,”

“I’ll handle things from the outside, keep everything running smoothly,” Sam agreed before anyone else could offer. Which of course made Charlie turn a shade paler, if possible. She really was a cute little scaredy cat when it came to the field work portion of the job description.

“But, as I said… There’s the small issue of my fee,” 

Once more Crowley seemed intent on playing the Prince John to your Robin of Locksley. Sometimes you wished the damned guy was an actual demon instead of just a greedy person. 

Dean would’ve probably let you blow up a demon. 

“You’ll get your money. Just get us in and point us in the direction of the Al Capone rip-offs, we’ll do the rest,” Dean said as his green eyes left Crowley. Shifting his focus to the blueprints of the party venue that Charlie had gotten you earlier while you waited for big bad to show. Tapping a calloused finger against them as he wet his lips.

“Get the big honcho to agree to meet us and there might even be a bonus in it for ya,” He continued. Speaking more to the plans in front of him than to the crime boss across the table from you. Though, if Crowley found the lack of eye contact offensive, he didn’t let it show as he smiled one of those trademark cocky smiles of his.

“Ladies, Gentlemen… You have yourself a deal,” 

Leaning back in his chair, Crowley shot you another smirk as his hand slipped into the pocket of his expensive tailored suit with a touch of unnecessary flair. Before quickly reappearing with an invite to the event. 

Damn it, the man really did always know what you needed. 

“And of course… Better yet, a date with yours truly,” He added, unnecessarily in your mind, with a small wink in your direction that escaped Dean’s notice from where he was pouring over the blueprints.

So, your heist was finally going somewhere… 

Next point on the agenda; prepping for the Charity party. 

You needed to pick a dress that was easy enough to move in and possibly cut through laser systems in, without setting them off. Memorize your cover, just in case someone deemed you worthy of small talk. And calm down Charlie enough to help her get ready to infiltrate a den full of bloodsucking politicians and mobsters. 

Which meant you had your work cut out for you. 

Fun.

---

Start Here - Next

Charity Heist: @foxyjwls007 @seppys-return-to-madness @stoneyggirl2 @ladysparkles78 @twinkleinadiamondsky @tmb510 

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Forever tags will be added as reblogs

[casspurrjoybell-17]

Heart’s Choice - Chapter 23 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

"Well, this is it," Mrs. Sparks says, unlocking the door of the little shed and waving her hand at the cramped interior.

"Knock yourselves out."

She leaves us to it, shuffling back up the gravel path to the back door of the house and disappearing within.

John and I share a look.

I'd been imagining an office straight out of some old timey, noir detective film, complete with filing cabinets, a rotary phone and a lamp with a green shade.

Instead, Daryl's office looks lifted from an Ikea floor display.

There's a cheap desk, a chair and a straight-from-the-box desktop PC.

"Fuck," John swears as he turns on the computer and is immediately confronted with a sign-in screen. "You think the wife knows where he kept his passwords?"

"Why don't you ask her? She seems to like you."

John frowns at me over his shoulder.

"I think you'd have better luck. She was checking you out the whole time I was talking to her."

I scoff.

"Yeah, right. She couldn't take her eyes off you."

"Were we talking to the same woman?"

"Hasn't gotten dressed in a week, looks like she needs a spa day and a long vacation?"

"That's the one."

"Hmm."

I hadn't thought she even glanced at me.

"You're not, um..." John coughs awkwardly. "You're not bisexual, are you?"

"What? Fuck no. I'm bent as a boomerang."

"Oh. Good. I mean, not 'good' but..."

A light cough makes us both jump and I look over my shoulder to see that Mrs. Sparks has returned.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you boys. I just thought you might want the password. It's BigDickEnergy. He wished."

She laughs and waves a glass of Chardonnay.

It's barely past noon.

"Can I get you boys a drink?"

"Ah, no. We're on the clock," John says, with admirable ease.

Mrs. Sparks scoffs.

"Never stopped Daryl. Stupid shit. I told him not to get involved. There was just something bad about this one, you know?"

John and I share a look.

"Mrs. Sparks..."

"Please, call me Pearl."

"Pearl. What do you know about your husband's last case?"

She smiles.

"What do I know? Better question is what don't I know. I did most of the work, anyway. Daryl was too lazy. Plus, he didn't like to talk to people and what you need in a business like this is to talk to people. That's what I did. The talking."

She takes a gulp of wine and looks from John to me, waiting for the next question.

"Who hired him?" I ask.

"Dunno. Some chick. Brianna, I think her name was."

I cast a glance at John.

"That's Kyle's ex-girlfriend. She was at his funeral."

Pearl nods.

"That's right. Kyle. She wanted Daryl to investigate her boy's death. Said he was murdered and she knew who did it, just didn't have proof."

"Who? I mean, who did she say did it?"

Pearl narrows her eyes at us, leaning forward with one hand planted against the doorframe and her wineglass in the other.

"Some punk Kyle knew from high school. They robbed a store together and Kyle got left holding the bag. Apparently, the other kid was the ringleader but he talked Kyle into taking the fall. Convinced him they were best buds or something and promised he'd have Kyle's share waiting for him with interest when he got out of Juvie. Well, Kyle got out all right but there was no share waiting for him. So the girlfriend figures Kyle threatened to expose this other guy as the criminal he is and the other guy killed him for it."

"This other guy, he got a name?" John asks.

"Yeah. Something Spanish. Alejandro or something."

"Alejo?" I suggest.

"That's it," Pearl points her wineglass at me, splashing me with Chardonnay. "Oops. Sorry."

"Did you tell all this to the police who interviewed you before?" John asks, brows furrowed.

Pearl shrugs easily.

"No. But they didn't ask."

*********

"I like her," I decide, as John hands me a bag full of fast food and a knockoff iced mocha.

Sadly, we'd decided to skip the diner in the interest of speed.

John wanted to get back to Spring Lakes ASAP.

He glances at me, eyes catching the light and gleaming gold before fading back to a forest medley of brown and green.

"Me, too. She's right, you know. Talking to people is a skill and whoever interviewed her clearly didn't have it in spades."

"Or they just caught her before she started on the Chardonnay."

John snorts.

"Or that. Either way, we got what we came for. SCPD will collect his computer and scrape it for data but I think Pearl gave us the goods."

"Alejo." I shudder. "God, I can't believe I went out with that guy."

As naturally as if he's done it a million times, John reaches over and takes my hand.

"Hey, once we get him, this nightmare will end and you can get back to your life."

I extract my hand from his carefully, and he withdraws his touch with a hitch in his breath.

"Yeah. Back to normal," I say.

Neither of us speaks again for the rest of the drive, until we pull up in front of John's house and see the front door wide open.

"What the fuck? Carlos, stay here."

John jumps out, drawing his weapon from his side holster and slinking up the steps with the masculine grace of an action hero.

Disregarding his orders, I follow, albeit at a careful distance.

At the door, John feints to the side, pressing his back against the outer wall, weapon held close to his chest.

Spotting me, he mouths something and makes some sort of military command gesture I don't understand.

"What? John, just..."

With a fury of delighted barks, Rick and Morty come pelting out of the open door and circle me, nipping at me playfully.

I laugh and drop to a crouch to welcome them with hugs and snuggles, instantly relieved but John remains tense as a soldier in combat.

He falls back from his position at the door and draws me to my feet, shielding me with his body as if from some imminent threat.

"Fuck," John swears under his breath, chest heaving, as a shadow appears in the arch of the door. "I didn't think he'd actually come."

I squint over his shoulder and the shadow resolves itself into the shape of a man.

From what I can tell, he's tall, and pale and Michelangelesque.

Still shielding me, John addresses him fittingly.

"David..."

"Well," the man says, looking between the two of us. "I came as fast as I could but alas, it seems I am, nonetheless, too late. Congratulations, John. You have found your match."

[oh-katsuki]

i’m really curious now hehe if you don’t mind, would you like to talk more about the dream? like what happened, some small silly details or random thoughts about it

sure, i don't mind!!! im just gonna describe the whole dream LOLL if u wanna get to the juicy parts just read the last 3 paragraphs loll

me and him (he didn't have a name/i can't remember it) had met a few days earlier (i think) and had hit it off immediately. in the dream, we were just sitting in an empty classroom / empty public space that we weren't really supposed to be in. the room was green, with green filing cabinets that we were sitting on. there was someone else there with us for a while, but they felt kind of separate from us as we were having a conversation. i don't remember what we were talking about, but it was very easy and flowed very naturally.

we were being very touchy, but not in the sexual way... instead it was like "this just sort of feels right to do" and were kind of goofing around. at one point, i'd made a joke about something and he grabbed me from behind as part of the joke, which is usually something i don't like, but it felt so comfortable and i remember thinking to myself "oh, we're flirting" but not feeling nervous about it... which is also unusual for me. that's probably the part i remember the most.. like the realization that i like this person and they most likely like me.

then someone starts coming into the room, so we're crouched somewhere behind the cabinet trying not to get caught. the stakes seemed pretty low though. seems like we were running from a friend. we're giggling behind this cabinet like "oh bro is never gonna find us" and then whoever it is DOES and we both scream and get up and start running out of the room. n he's got my hand in his because he'd grabbed me to start running.

finally we end up in a jack and jill bathroom and i remember it looking pretty similar to the one in my parent's house and we're laughing and panting because we're out of breath. he's like... resting his chin on the top of my head with his hands on my shoulders and we're just kind of getting the rest of the giggles out before we step into a bedroom through the door of the bathroom. except like... in the way of dreams.. it's not REALLY a bedroom. i got the sense that his behavior was just the way he is.. like friendly like that, but somehow i still felt special (delusional moment).

he sits down on the edge of the bed and i kind of just take a minute to look at him. i remember him being very lanky and tall, not very bulky, his hair was dark but it was also blonde (?) in some moments but i'd never questioned the switch. he wore black square framed glasses and had an oval shaped face. and im just kinda looking at him while i stand there and just think "he's pretty... i really click with this person." so then... in an act COMPLETELY out of character, i call out to him and when he turns his head, i take his face in my hands and kiss him (ive never done this in my LIFE). and i think i surprised him, but not in a bad way because after he turned red and was like "what was that for" and i kinda shrugged and told him that i just felt like it and he said okay before we fell into normal conversation. no weird tension, no weird like... "what now?" all of it was SO normal.

then these kids come up to us talking (why they are there i have no idea) and he's talking to them and im just kinda watching. then one of them asks "are you his girlfriend?" and idk what overtook me but i said... so CONFIDENTLY "no, but i will be." and he turns to look at me surprised but smiling and i just kinda shrug bc for some reason i knew i was right. like in my dream i KNEW i was right there literally wasn't a doubt in my mind that i'd end up as this guy's girlfriend. and then i woke up.

now i need to emphasize that this is SO out of character for me that i woke up jostled but FULLY believing that this would happen. I was like "oh yeah, ill be his girlfriend and im confident enough to say that out loud to his face." and it took me a minute to be like "wait, who was that???" loll

[bananonbinary]

Time for a Salty Meta Post about Martin!

people who’ve followed this blog for a bit know that spending six hours combing through text for some goddamn sources is my specialty, so i compiled every time jon ever talked about martin’s work in season 1. which for the record, he stopped complaining about all the way back in episode 26, where he was angry that martin of all people got hurt.

things jon gets mad at martin for:

not being able to find records that don’t exist

not being able to find someone based only on a first name

the Dog

not wearing trousers in his off-hours

being the one that got caught up in the jane prentiss thing

mag 004 and mag 012 both have jon taking potshots at martin over research that was proven accurate by outside sources

things jon has never once complained about:

martin not understanding the filing system and just putting stuff away at random

martin being clumsy, constantly ruining things, spilling tea everywhere everyday, etc

martin turning in incompetent, poorly-edited, or badly formatted reports

martin not understanding the terminology used, skills expected, etc., and generally being extremely new to the field

please for the love of god stop making martin the silly bumbling idiot who can’t do anything right just because he doesn’t have a formal education. there’s zero evidence for it in the text, and it’s really weird to act like a 4 year degree would outweigh the *10 years* of job experience he has, not just in academia, but in the institute itself by season one. my boy has worked there longer than ANY of the rest of the main cast. screw you guys.

tl;dr: martin is never once shown to be bad at his job, jon pretty much only ever gets mad at him for the really stupid first impression and also not finding stuff that no one else was able to find either. after martin got hurt, jon talks about his research basically the same way he talks about tim’s or sasha’s work.

fucking proof under the cut:

(i didnt include the s1 finale or martin’s statement bc that’s just...two entire episodes of them talking to each other, but there isn’t really any notable Martin Complaints in either of them imo)

I swear, if he’s brought another dog in here, I’m going to peel him.

[pre-launch trailer]

.

Well, technically three, but I don’t count Martin as he’s unlikely to contribute anything but delays.

[...] Alongside this Tim, Sasha and, yes, I suppose, Martin will be doing some supplementary investigation to see what details may be missing from what we have.

[MAG001 Anglerfish]

.

Martin couldn’t find any records of Ex Altiora as a title in existent catalogues of esoteric or similar literature, so I assigned Sasha to double-check. Still nothing.

[MAG004 Pageturner]

.

I had Martin conduct a follow-up interview with Mr. Woodward last week, but it was unenlightening. Apparently there have been no further bags at number 93 and in the intervening years he has largely discounted many of the stranger aspects of his experience. I wasn’t expecting much, as time generally makes people inclined to forget what they would rather not believe, but at least it got Martin out of the Institute for an afternoon, which is always a welcome relief.

[MAG005 Thrown Away]

.

Martin was unable to find the exact date the original house was built but the earliest records he could find list it as being bought by Walter Fielding in 1891.

[...]

We cannot prove any connection, but Martin unearthed a report on an Agnes Montague, who was found dead in her Sheffield flat on the evening of November 23rd 2006, the same day Mr. Lensik claims to have uprooted the tree.

[MAG008 Burned Out]

.

According to Martin, who was here when they took this statement, it was at this point in writing that Mr. Herbert announced he needed some sleep before continuing. He was shown to the break room where he went to sleep on the couch. He did not awaken; unfortunately succumbing to the lung cancer right there. Martin says the staff had been aware of how serious Mr. Herbert’s condition was, and had advised him to seek medical aid prior to giving his statement, but were told rather bluntly by the old man that he would not wait another second to state his case. I can’t decide whether this lends more or less credibility to his tale.

[MAG010 Vampire Killer]

.

“Veepalach” might also be a mishearing of the Polish word “wypalać”, according to Martin, which means to cauterize or brand. Admittedly, if Martin speaks Polish in the same way he “speaks Latin,” then he might be talking nonsense again, but I’ve looked it up and it appears to check out.

[MAG012 First Aid]

.

I sent Martin to look into this ‘Angela’ character - not that I want him to get chopped up, of course, but someone had to. Apparently, he spent three days looking into every woman named Angela in Bexley over the age of 50. He could not find anyone that matches the admittedly vague description given here, though he informs me that he had some very pleasant chats about jigsaws. Useless ass.

[MAG014 Piecemeal]

.

Martin declined to help with this investigation as he’s “a bit claustrophobic”

[MAG015 Lost John’s Cave]

.

There simply aren’t enough details given in this statement to actually investigate, short of Martin confirming that Mr. Vittery did indeed live at the addresses he provided.

[MAG016 Arachnophobia]

.

Oh, he’s off sick this week. Stomach problems, I think.

Blessed relief if you ask me.

[...]

I asked Martin to try and hunt down Mr. Adekoya himself for a follow-up, but have been informed that he passed away in 2006. 

[MAG017 The Boneturner’s Tale]

.

MARTIN

Well, I need to tell someone what happened, and you can vouch for the soundness of my mind, can’t you?

ARCHIVIST

…

That is beside the point.

[MAG022 Colony]

.

Martin! Good lord man, if you’re going to be staying in the Archives, at least have the decency to put some trousers on!

[MAG023 Schwartzwald]

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Martin found one other thing while combing through police reports for the Hither Green area. About a month after this statement was given, on May 15th, 2015, police were called out to once again investigate the chapel.

[MAG025 Growing Dark]

.

I know, but it would have to have been Martin, wouldn’t it? I mean, anything goes wrong around here, it always seems to happen to him. Anyway, we’re getting off topic. Why didn’t you report this?

[MAG026 A Distortion]

.

Martin made contact with the son, Marcus McKenzie, but he declined to talk to us, saying that he’d “already made his statement.”

[MAG027 A Sturdy Lock]

.

Tim and Martin had a bit more luck investigating Tom Haan, though only really enough to confirm that he seems to have completely vanished following his departure from Aver Meats on the 12th of July.

[MAG030 Killing Floor]

.

Martin’s research would seem to indicate the place employed a reasonable number of international staff they preferred to keep off the books

[...]

TIM

Ah well, that’s actually what he was asking, huh! Um, apparently Martin, uh, took delivery of a couple of items last week addressed to you. Did he not mention it?

ARCHIVIST

No, he… Oh, yes, actually. I completely forgot. He said he put it in my desk drawer, hold on.

[MAG036 Taken Ill]

[lavynrose]

- a oneshot for artem wing when he finally mustered up courage to ask out their s/o to hang out as friends (theme parks or just garden strolls, you can pick which type of place you want i won't mind!) to confess to them and when he confesses their s/o confesses at the same time too? and the s/o is kinda shy and awkward with him so he gets surprised and all flustered with them confessing at the same time?

(ackk this has been stuck in my head for a while, sorry if there are any grammar mistakes since english isn't my first language! i hope u have a great day!! :D <3)

- coomkie anon ♡

Artem Wing and his s/o confessing at the same time pt. 1

Title: Dedicated

Pairing/s: Artem Wing X Reader

Pronouns: Gender Neutral

Genre: Fluff

Warning/s: Grammatical errors probably

Notes: blushy artem is best artem, and we have celestine being the best wingwoman again

enjoy an amusement park date with Artem <3

Artem Wing is a dedicated man.

If it had been any other person, they would be home right now.

but not him.

Even now, as the looming hours of the night began to tick, he sits at his swivel chair, busied with the love of his life called paperwork.

"Aren't you overworking yourself?" He looked up from his papers to see Celestine waltzing inside his office with documents in hand.

The question should've made him stop and think to at least consider getting rest, but no, we're talking about Artem the workaholic here.

He has heard Celestine's question directed at him for the past few days, and from different people at that.

"Overworking means I have more time to double-check these documents," Artem said as he reached out for the folder that Celestine brought over, "Don't you think it's pretty convenient?"

"Artem," She started with concern in her blue-green eyes, "I know you're trying to distract yourself."

Artem was silent for a few moments before coughing, "Whatever do you mean? There's nothing I have to distract myself from." He said with complete calmness in his voice that he could even fool himself.

"You don't have to hide it, you know? I see the way you look at them," She smiled as she recalled the lingering stares and soft smiles setting display into Artem's face when he's around his colleague "The way you act around Y/N." she added with a hint of teasing.

The mention of your name seemed to short-circuit Artem's brain, Celestine took advantage of this with delight.

"Also... They've been getting friendly and close with that new employee.." She puts her hands on her chin, thinking.

Earlier today, she caught Artem's looks of distraught while his eyes were on you and the new guy. You were having a friendly conversation.

Too friendly.

After that, The youngest senior attorney even requested you to work with him at his desk, claiming that he, quote "needs to keep close tabs on the files that Y/N is handling." end quote.

but Celestine knew better.

Jealous is the only word that can describe how Artem was acting. She decided she will push his buttons tonight.

"Aren't you... threatened?" She beamed at him, waiting for his reaction.

"..."

"They've been on your mind lately, I reckon."

"..."

"They're getting closer with each other, don't you think?"

"..."

Hopeless. Celestine thought.

To say that she's frustrated with this whole situation surrounding the two of you is an understatement. Everyone in your circle clearly sees it - you and Artem like each other.

In the way he bought cake for the whole office that one afternoon the day after an episode of an office drama aired, or in the way that he went out of his way to take care of you in the hospital when you overworked yourself to sickness, or in the way you blushed around each other, the lingering touches, oh the lingering touches. It was all obvious.

The both of you spend your time together more than anyone else, everyone thinks your blooming affections were inevitable at this point. Solving controversial cases meant having the mental and emotional intimacy to get to know each other better compared to your average professional relationship.

You don't see each other as "working partners" anymore, it's clear that you guys want each other as a different kind of partner.

It was known to everyone except for the two of you, apparantly.

Celestine sighed before rummaging through the magazine shelf in the office, grinning when she found what she's looking for.

Artem shot her a look of suspicion. He has a bad feeling about this.

"There." She said with satisfaction before dropping the magazine into his desk.

The magazine lays there, with an eye-catching font and colorful cover page, Artem blushes as his eyes read, 100 cute date ideas...

Judging from the cover, the magazine might actually be useful when giving date suggestions. Under the big font however, there was a smaller text that read, Your significant other is waiting!

What is this...

"I'm sorry but I have work to finish." He tried his best to unsee what he just saw, and decided to turn his focus on the headache of workload in front of him instead.

Celestine raised her eyebrows at him with a frown, "Don't be stubborn now, I'm your boss, I'm giving you both a day-off tomorrow. I mean, you haven't used your day-off at all ever since you started working here. So please. " Her voice is laced with concern.

He looked away with a sentimental look in his eyes, "You don't have to do this for me. I'm fine with... Giving them affection without them realizing it."

Celestine just frowns deeper.

"Come on now Artem, doesn't it sound tempting to you?" She clasped her hands and continued a little too excitedly like a schoolgirl in love, "Having alone time with Y/N, finally asking them out on the date so the other guys threatening your future can back off."

It does sound tempting, Artem admits.

He looked away with reddened cheeks, "I'll think about it."

He doesn't need to look at Celestine to know she's sporting a big grin right now.

Later that night on his bed, his mind keeps flashing images of you. You, wearing a big, warm smile on your face. You, with your little mannerisms that he came to memorize from hours of being with you. Every little thing, every moment, as long as it's with you, he cherishes it.

Oops. The butterflies are starting.

He didn't mind.

You looked stunning today, but then again, he finds you stunning everyday.

When was I this cheesy? He thought to himself.

His thoughts kept racing with reveries about you when a new image interrupted every nice thought.

It was of you and the new employee laughing together.

He frowned and his stomach churns.

"Are they interested in each other?" He finds himself asking the wind. His mind was reeling.

He thinks about the time when he first heard you say that you were married to your work. Surely, you aren't interested in being in a relationship with some guy, right?

Right?

Groaning, he then realized that he needs to make a move now before it's too late.

To him, you're the loveliest person he's ever met, your kindness, your welcoming smile, the passion that you present when you're in the court, the way you always remain headstrong no matter how many people clash with you and try to break your principles.

The only one that occupies his heart, you.

Artem is sure he won't regret giving you his feelings, and eventually, reveal them.

He got up from his bed and sent a glare at the magazine that is now resting on the lamp table beside his bed, mocking him. He picked it up with less hesitation than before.

'What should I choose?' Artem asked himself before flipping the pages, a faint blush adorning his cheeks.

This is a big step for him, and he wants to make sure that he's going to do it right.

7:00am

You rubbed your eyes and stretched your limbs as the sunlight permeated through your bedroom window, the yellow glow giving you a peaceful feeling, a new day is about to start.

A new day without work at that.

You had been ecstatic when Celestine called you to inform you last night of your long awaited day-off, you smiled at the memory as you stand up to brush your teeth.

"You deserve it for all your hardwork!" Even through the phone, you heard the smile in her voice.

Soon, your thoughts drifted to a certain raven-haired man.

'How about Artem? I'm his assistant, does he get a day-off too?' You wondered as you finished washing your mouth, finally heading off to the kitchen to prepare for breakfast.

You were about to choose what to eat from the fridge when you hear a song play from your phone in your room.

You hurriedly went back as you recognized that ringtone - that ringtone you had set for a particular contact.

There on the screen, displays the name of the object of your affections.

Mr. Wing.

'Why is he calling this early? What could he possibly need?' you thought to yourself before pressing the green button.

"Good morning Artem, what is it?" you didn't even try to hide the happiness from your voice, Artem calling you this early doesn't happen often, after all.

"Good morning. Do you have plans for today?" His morning voice echoed through your ears. It was husky and rough, filling all of your senses.

Realizing that he just woke up, you can't help but blush at the thought of being the first person to talk to him today.

He thought of you first thing in the morning!

You tried to control the lingering heat in your face as you replied, "Uhm, yes uhh- none. I have no plans for today, Artem. I'll be thinking of what to do though. Why did you ask? " You hoped he didn't mind the sttuttering mess presented to him this early in the morning.

You wondered if there's an emergency case needed to be taken care of, he rarely ever calls outside of work.

Then again, you're always at work.

"That's good," the other line was silent for a bit. As your anticipation for his reply grew, he finally said, "A new amusement park is going be opened today. I heard they'll be having a fireworks display tonight to celebrate the opening."

You've heard about the said amusement park from your coworkers yesterday, you even heard that it was a project from PAX.

Marius' wealth truly knows no bounds, you thought.

Kiki even invited you to come with her this sunday, as it's the only freetime the both of you had before Celestine's sudden news of a day-off.

Is Artem coming there today? He doesn't seem like the type to go to amusement parks, but now you know that he likes them, or at least he didn't mind going, you added this info to your list of things about Artem that make you fall in love with him more and more. Because let's be honest, what's there not to like about the man?

He's handsome, sweet, a good cook, a senior attorney you can look up to, and he always makes sure to reassure you that you're doing well, that he's proud of you.

He cleared his throat, breaking you out of your thoughts, "Do you want to go there..." He paused, his nerves getting the better of him, unbeknownst to you, "With me? I have two tickets, and I wanted to invite a close friend. Is that alright with you? "

What?

'Is he asking me out on a date!?' you were practically screaming internally as you paced frantically in your room.

No. No way. This isn't a date. Not until he says so.

He said 'close friend' so you shouldn't overthink this. You were partners, after all!

At least you try to convince yourself.

"Of course Artem. I'm glad you invited me, I'm really happy." You weren't lying, his invite was the most unexpected thing that happened to you this week.

He hummed, "I'm happy, too. I'll be there at 2:30pm to fetch you, they'll open around 3pm. " He said in a gentle voice before hanging up.

You pumped your fist in the air. You have plenty of time to prepare.

2:30pm

Among all of the outfits that you could've worn today, you decided to wear a cute, beige, knitted sweater. A pair of faded ripped jeans, white sneakers, and a beanie to top it all off.

The amusement park being your destination, you decided to wear casual clothing since you'd be hopping on rides left and right.

You wouldn't want to wear a skirt just for it to blow on the wind while you're in the air, screaming for dear life.

Nope. You definitely don't want that.

You're now waiting outside your apartment after Artem sent you a text 5 minutes ago that he's on his way.

Your head is plagued with expectations on how this friendly date is going to go. You've never felt as giddy as this before.

It's understandable, right? The person you like asked you out to go with him to an amusement park - using his morning voice, nonetheless, so it wouldn't be strange for you to think that this is like an actual date.

You bonked yourself mentally.

You keep reminding yourself that it's just a friendly date. It's just a friendly date. You believe in the power of your mind, it's a friendly date. He even said so himself.

Artem's going to think you're weird. It's not like you're going to hold hands or anything...

Yet, you didn't even try to stop the daydream clouding your mind.

While you were busy indulging yourself in your fantasies, your eyes caught a familiar spot of black in the parking lot. Artem's car!

That's your cue. When his car stopped, you made your way over to him with a small smile on your face.

His black car opened, spilling out Artem clad in his casual clothing.

You scanned his appearance, taking in those breath-taking, familiar eyes. Taking in the beige, knitted sweater he's wearing, paired with slacks and black shoes.

Wait.

You did a double take- beige, knitted sweater?

You looked at his clothes, then looked down at your own, then back at his again.

Red and warmth crept up to your cheeks as realization hits you.

You kind of looked like a couple.

"What's wrong?" Artem inquired with concern as he stepped closer and reached out his hands to your flustered form.

He even placed his hand on your forehead to check your temperature.

Yes, you think you have a fever.

It's only when he got to take a good look at you when realization hits him the way it hit you.

He retreated his hand and looked away, face as warm as yours.

"Uhh..."

"..."

Why are you acting like a highschooler!? You're better than this, getting flustered just because you wore identical clothes.

With the person you like, you added.

The both of you stayed silent for a few seconds before you spoke up with a grin, thankful that the pink that dusted your cheeks is now cooling down a bit, "We should get going now."

You expected the ride to be as awkward as earlier, but to your relief, that wasn't the case at all.

Artem played the radio on your drive to the amusement park, and even asked you about how you're feeling lately and whatnot.

Honestly, with how he's always so concerned about your well-being, you're doomed to fall even harder.

"What are your favorite rides, Artem?" You decided to talk about something connected to where you're going to go.

"Hmm," as he hummed, you looked in front of the car to see the gates of the amusement park came into view. You can even see the familiar structure of a rollercoaster and a really grand ferris wheel turning slowly.

Majestic.

Is the motif for this amusement park golden!? The railings are shimmering with gold, some parts of the rides are adorned with gold, wherever you look, gold!

PAX outdid themselves with this one, definitely took "shining, shimmering, splendid" to a whole new level. Too much for the word grandeur, you think.

You can't even imagine how wide the place must be. You haven't even stepped foot inside, yet your eyes were oogling as some more rides were seen from outside the gates.

"We're here Artem! Look!" From your side, Artem turns to take a look from the road to the park, his eyes screaming nothing but amusement.

"It's beautiful," He breathed while you nodded furiously with agreement. He shot you a look, "I'm glad I get to spend my first time here with you." The softness is his eyes is blinding as you stared at him and processed his words.

"Me too..." you managed to choke out, turning away to hide your blush.

While you were taming your flushed cheeks, Artem had parked the car already.

He opened the doors for the both of you as he offered you his arm. Confusion takes over your features.

"So you wouldn't get lost, it's a big crowd out here, " He tilted his head to have a better look at your still sitting form inside the car, "Let's go?" He said with that gentle smile, as comforting as ever.

You stood up and linked your arm with his and suggested, "How about the bumpy car first?" excitement was evident in your voice.

He shook his head and chuckled, "Whatever you wish." He said as he locked the car doors with a click. You both headed to check in and do the formalities first. After all that, with a skip to your step, you pulled Artem to the bumpy car's ticket booth, and went inside.

You're elated.

"I can't believe the Artem Wing, the youngest senior attorney, is losing to me!" You sound hysterical as you bumped Artem's car with yours over and over, your bumpy car dominating his.

This is fun! Just minutes earlier, the atmosphere between you and Artem seemed a little tight because of the matching clothing incident. Just a little. However, the laughter of everyone playing in this space is infectious, it leaves you in a really good and playful mood.

It makes you feel like you were a kid again. You hope Artem feels the same.

Before playing, you made a bet with him earlier that whoever bumps the other the most, wins.

"Y/N. I think this car is defective." He said with a frown, his eyebrows furrowing as his hands tinker whatever there was in the steering wheel.

You looked over to him and replied, "We can switch cars, let me see." The two of you switched from each other's bumpy ride and you assessed the supposedly 'broken' car.

You realized he didn't push the right buttons to ride the bumper properly.

"Artem..." You looked at him blankly and said, "Have you ever been to bumpy cars before?"

He was silent before replying with darting eyes, "No, I haven't," He cleared his throat, "I have only been to the ferris wheel and escape rooms, I haven't been to bumpy rides before. Sorry."

You beamed at him.

"Don't be sorry!" You flail your arms to disagree, "There's nothing wrong with that. I'm actually happy that you allowed me to drag you here despite you not having played it before." You flashed him a thankful smile.

He looked a little surprised at first, but then that warm smile of his came back, "Thank you." You stared at each other's eyes for a few beats in time, his ocean eyes containing a sparkle you rarely see them hold. It looks so gentle, so welcoming.

So fond.

You stared at each other for a while, his deep eyes were enough to drown out the crowd. To drown out everything that existed but him.

Blinking, you snapped out of it to teach him how to drive the car.

The cars were booster types, different from the old models wherein you just turn the wheels and you'll be good. In this specific model, commands are needed to be performed in order for the car to execute it's special feature.

"You turn it like this..." Artem is a fast-learner, so the both you were back on track as soon as you guided him the directions.

In the end, you were tied, the bumper time limit resulting the draw.

"I'm definitely beating you next time!" you declared with a smug look, hands on your waist.

After the bumper, a receptionist from what seemed like a family raft ride made his way to invite the two of you.

"You guys look like you're having fun!" He then pointed at the paper he's holding and said with persuasion, "You're going to have even more fun here! The family raft ride is the only free ride we're offering in the park for it's first day, be sure not to miss out on this special bonus!" He then turned his heel to find more costumers.

You blinked, "Too bad we don't have extra clothes..." You hung your head low and you sighed as your mind thinks of a different ride to enjoy.

"Well, he did say it's a special bonus," Artem pondered, "They sell clothes here anyway, and there are restrooms we can change on," you wondered if this is going the way you think it's going, "I can see no harm in trying this free ride." He finished with the corners of his lips turned upwards.

Your eyes sparkled with so much joy that he's glad he suggested this.

"Then what are we waiting for!?" You squeal and jump from where you stand and Artem could only shake his head at you with an adoring look in his ocean eyes.

You both headed to the line of people waiting to get their tickets for the raft.

"That's a long line..." You're already mentally tired as you stared at the single file of people in front of you.

"There's still plenty of time before the fireworks at 7pm, I can go and buy us ice cream. Do you want some? "

You're face fell, remembering you were on a diet, "I appreciate the offer, but no thanks, I'm on a diet." An ice cream sounds really tempting right now, but you must resist.

"I heard they sell low-fat ice cream in here. How about that?" He proposed as his eyes glinted with satisfaction.

He knew this would do you in, sure enough, you gave him the biggest grin you could muster.

"You're the best, Artem! Any flavor is fine, by the way. " You beamed as he turned his heel to the ice cream stall, you just stared at his back the whole time he was away.

A minute later, the man wearing a cozy beige sweater that matches yours turned around and went over to you, two chocolate chip ice cream in hand. You reached out to take your ice cream, your fingers brushing.

You ignored the tingling feeling and the chills. He looked away.

While eating, you talked about how the line for the rollercoaster was two times longer than the raft's even though it's literally free.

"I believe they added a new feature to the coaster." Artem reasoned.

"You bet. The rides' golden theme is already impressive enough," You eyed the unbelievably long line from the coaster's ticket booth, "We can go back here some time to see that feature for ourselves." your face heated as you realized the implications in your words.

His eyes widened for a single moment and then looked at you with such intensity you can't bring yourself to look away, "I'd love that." a gentle look worms it's way in his features once again.

Comfortable silence dawns on your own, little world while you both busied yourselves in your ice cream.

The two of you were thrilled as it was your turn to ride the raft, ice cream long gone, replaced by the life-vest in your hands.

"Ah," you sighed, fumbling with the vest a little longer than you should have.

Artem, of course, noticed your movements. He was kind enough to help you adjust the vest.

Of course.

"Come here." He said as his arms finds it's way to your waist, pulling you towards his stature. His hot breath hitting your face while he circled his arms around you to wrap the vest securely.

This is not good for your heart...

He's so close, you could kiss him if you wanted...

He pulled away, his warmth lingering still.

Even when the both of you sat down on the raft. The ride is going to start in a few and here you are, lost in the feeling of Artem being near you.

"Y/N," You abruptly turned your head to him when he suddenly called you, "are you nervous?"

You blushed so hard you wanted to evaporate with the water, 'Yes. You make me nervous.' you're tempted to respond.

"Yes, but don't worry about me." was your reply instead, and you smiled awkwardly and stared at his blue eyes, blue eyes laced with concern.

He leaned closer, probably so that the other people within your raft wouldn't hear, "I care about you and I want you to feel as comfortable as possible," he whispered in your ear, sending chills to your spine.

This is definitely not comfortable, Mr. Wing.

Your heart is doing flips, this isn't normal!

"Please tell me if you need something." The gentleness in his voice took your breath away the way it did as the first time.

The fact that he's unaware of his effect on you angered you so much. You scanned his face for signs of teasing. Smirk, maybe a playful glint, anything.

Yet you found none.

The raft began to move, a perfect timing to change the subject!

You leaned on him, but not too close, and whispered, "It's starting."

Water began to splash, as the raft moved with the current.

The track was smooth at first, you getting small splashes here and there.

Until a bumpy track decided to present itself.

Like before, the raft went with the flow of the water, except that it bounced and rotated harshly that one particular splash of water was enough to wet you and your clothes completely.

"OH MY G-" you exclaimed when the raft hit a rough spot again, soaking everyone wet.

You were making a surprised pikachu face as the water seeped into your clothes.

You turned to look at Artem to see his state and you suppressed a giggle with how he's making the same face as you did earlier.

Never in your life you thought you'd see Artem with the surprised pikachu face.

You took pride in knowing that you're one of the very few people who gets to see this side of him.

"Artem!" you shouted through the noisy stream of water. "We look silly!" you laughed as the water rocked everyone in the raft as harsh as it possibly can. Round and round, back and forth.

"We do!" his laughed mingled with yours even when the water relentlessly kept soaking your already wet bodies.

You smiled once again, gazing at his form with profound fondness longer than just a friend would've done.

6:00pm

"That was really fun!" You shouted to the air while Artem scooted beside you, offering his arm like he did earlier, which you eagerly took.

The both of you went for another round on the raft after the first round, not caring about the long waiting line. The ride was worth it!

All you ever did was scream and laugh at each other's state, but it was the most enjoyment you've ever had in years.

You were completely dry now, changed into fresh clothes that were sold as the park's merchandise.

Even with the change of clothes, the clothes you were wearing right now still matched Artem's.

You weren't complaining.

The crowd continues to enjoy themselves, all while the sunset was making everything in the theme park look like a fairytale.

"Yes, it was. I enjoyed it very much." Artem flashed a smile so genuine, you wanted to see this sight a thousand times more. The orange glow of the sunset gives his raven hair a golden shade, light reflecting on his blue eyes, making him look so bewitching. So you carved it to your memory, not knowing how to elicit that same image from him once again.

Looking up at him, and looking back at the things that happened today, you realized something.

You couldn't take this silent pining anymore, you wanted to tell him how precious his smile is to you, to tell him you're glad he's spending his time with you, to tell him to make more memories with you.

To tell him he's the reason of the warmth flooding your whole being right now.

'I'm in love with you' is what you first thought of saying. No matter how cliche that may be, you wanted to let him know, that you're in love with him.

"Uhh, Artem, I-" You were about to spill your feelings then and there when a voice boomed the speakers of the park.

"Everyone! One hour more to go for the fireworks! Please look forward to it!"

Your confession's gonna have to wait for later.

part 2 here

do not repost © lavynrose 08/15/21.

[theunholygrails]

Foolish Games Part 2

Masterlist

A/N: Introducing new characters and some drama! Percy is still sexy as ever :'(.

Warnings: BJ

I woke up to a door slamming so hard it joined the symphony of my pounding headache. I groaned, hoisting myself over the back of the couch to investigate to intrusion. A brunette head of long sweeping hair rushed through the foyer, barreling towards the kitchen. A familiar mop of black hair hurried after.

Reyna was speaking so fast in Spanish my brain scrambled to keep up. I noted lots of curse words followed by a series of sentences too fast I was surprised she even knew what she was saying. Percy was answering in slow measured words, probably fighting a hangover of equal measure. I ducked behind the back of the couch, reaching for my phone plugged in on the coffee table.

It was noon. 2% battery and a couple messages from friends. Nothing from my ex thank gods. Five from Annabeth being nosey. I opened my uber app, squinting in the sunlight breaking through the cream curtains. I managed to get my driver secured.

A door slammed and I winced, peaking to check that they were in another room. I did not immediately spot my dress in the chaotic. I grimaced remembering the midnight swim. When I sat up I finally noticed the white tshirt I wore and the basketball shorts. And then I went rigid remembering what happened after the swim.

“Motherfucker,” I whispered.

Now I really had to get out of this house. I checked the arrival time of my driver. Three minutes away. Great. I made my way on shaky knees to the large wooden front door. My keys were still in the collection dish. I grabbed them quietly and turned the door handle a fraction of an inch before another door slammed open and Reyna came barreling back into the foyer, brown eyes landing promptly on my guilty ass. Behind her, Percy pursed his lips into a thin line and raised both of his hands to lay on top of his head. His biceps strained nicely against the thin t shirt.

“The fuck is this?” Reyna whispered.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” I babbled.

“It’s just Noa, Rey. Gods,” Percy said.

“I can see that, Percy!” She snapped. I was glad her spear was not strapped across her back this morning. “Why is she sneaking out of my house in your clothes?”

“People were swimming last night. Her clothes got wet.”

“I’m sure the fuck they did.”

“Zeus, Rey! You ended it with me. Why does it even matter?”

“Because I still fucking love you! I’m sorry, okay?” She burst out crying and Percy instantly pulled her against his chest. The memory of being in those arms drove me out the door like a nest of hornets.

~~~~

“I’m just saying. You have nothing to feel sorry for,” Annabeth paused to sip her iced coffee. “Unless they get back together and then you sleep with him. But as of right now, you’re good. Trust me. Been on the Percy train. We’re still friends. You’ll get over it. Just a harmless rebound for both of you.”

I groaned, laying my chin on the cool metal table parked outside our favorite coffee shop positioned between our New York apartments. Just two Manhattan women enjoying their Sunday afternoon. The air was cooling as fall neared. I pulled my baseball cap closer to the top of my sunglasses.

“Should I call him?”

“Maybe tomorrow. Let him deal with his relationship drama. Reyna is a lot to deal with. Still nothing from fuckface?”

“Nope and that’s fine.”

“Good for you. We will hydrate you, get you a good dinner, hit the gym before work in the morning and then get back on our bad bitch mental track. Agreed?”

~~~~

“Good Monday, yogis,” I chirped from my desk at the corner of my studio.

The third class was beginning to trickle in and I was settling into my rhythm. Hot yoga was next and hopefully I would sweat out all the negativity I’d allowed lately. I was in the middle of emailing back a potential client when someone rapped at the wood of my desk. I glanced up to a blonde male who waved gently.

“Heya, sansei Noa,” he said.

“That’s karate. Can I help you?”

“Do you do trial classes?”

I hit send on my email and closed my laptop. The guy was built like a poser with the defined muscles and chiseled jaw but his voice was soft and tempered. He was clean shaven and dressed like a basic gym bro.

“Normally you have to schedule them beforehand because of class size,” I gave my standard answer.

“Right, my bad. Sorry. I was just passing by the front and it looked like the kind of place I needed right now. Can I go ahead and pick a date then?”

I was staring too long into his pale blue eyes, honed in on the polite response. A nice change from the daily demanding consumers. “You know what? Ive got space right now if you like? Have you ever done hot yoga?”

A brilliant white smile showcasing sharp canines. “My favorite.”

“Perfect. I just need a name, number and email to get you a file started.”

He leaned large hands on my desk. “It’s Luke Castellan.”

Before he could give the contact information, I cut him off. “Wait. I know you.” His tanned skin paled significantly.

“I…”

“You’re supposed to be dead!” I blurted out.

His eyes skated around the room and he leaned in closer. “That’s not supposed to be public knowledge. I assume you’re a demigod?”

“Luke, you trained me. We took fucking sculpting together. The Apollo table was right next to the Hermes one for fuck’s sake.”

He winced. I heard a murmuring from the rest of my class I was disturbing with my volume. I collected my shock finally. “Take a seat if you want. We should talk after class. I need to start.”

“Okay. Thank you. I’m sorry Noa.”

I waved him off and walked over to my yoga mat. I sat cross legged and drew in an even breath to smooth out my emotions.

It was a slow 30 minute class. Each pose and movement dragged on. Finally, I dismissed the group and nodded Luke outside. He was waiting on the bench outside of the studio I split renting with a few other instructors. I sat next to him, wiping sweat from my face with the towel slung over my pink sports bra.

“Alright, talk,” I said.

“Not much to say. I was given a second chance at my hearing. Here I am. Starting over.” A shrug of well-defined shoulders. The muscles flexed beneath his gleaming sweat. His red tank top stuck to his chest and stomach. “I wish I remembered you, truly. That time is such a blur in my life.”

“It’s ok. You were a lot older than me and to be honest I had a massive crush on you so I probably hid most of the time.”

A surprised smile slipped across his lips. “I’m assuming the betrayal helped you get over that?”

I laughed outloud, slapping his knee. “No shit! So where are you staying these days?”

“Just around the corner actually. Got a job at the local gym.”

“Yeah I bet the fuck you did.” I squeezed his forearm between both of my hands. I wanted to roll my eyes at me falling back into my school girl giddy at him. Betrayal of the gods aside. He was even more gorgeous than ever. The scar down his face gave him a dark sexy vibe. Like a bad boy even though he claimed he was rehabbing himself now.

“So how, did you feel about the class?”

“I mean, I’d like to sign up for it a couple times a week, that’s for sure. And I’d like to take you out to dinner to make up for not remembering a beauty like you.”

I almost bit my cheek biting out the response of “Yes!”

“You’ve got my number,” he said, chuckling quietly. “I’ve got to get to work.” He shouldered his gym bag and excused himself.

The bike back to my apartment was spent reliving my tween fantasies about bad boy Luke. I opened my apartment door and screeched seeing a man sitting at my kitchen counter. Percy turned to face me.

“You know you live in New York? You should really lock that.”

“It was!” I snapped.

A quick grin. “Yeah. But it was easy to break into.”

I dropped my bag onto the floor and brushed past him to get a protein shake from the fridge. “I have to shower and get prepared for my night classes.” I told him.

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t either.”

He paused, studying my face in the shitty lighting of the single bulb hanging between us over the counter. “Are we good, Noa?”

“Of course. What’s a little head between friends?”

“Okay…I can’t read you. Can you not play tough just for a minute?”

I chugged the shake and set the bottle down between us. I leaned my arms on the chilled counter, bun knocking against the light. “Honestly, Percy. I’m fine. We are good.”

“Reyna moved back in.”

“You’re engaged again?”

I drank from the empty bottle to give myself something to do. He watched me with those green eyes. He’d known me for far too long. He was nearly impossible to deceive, but I was determined today. The fact that I had dreamt of fucking him two consecutive nights was irrelevant if he was off the table. Even if his lips did look incredibly juicy tonight. Even if they had done near illicit things to me just nights ago.

“I don’t know. She said she wanted to work on things. And it’s her dad’s house, so I can’t ask her to go and I don’t want to go to my mom’s and admit defeat.”

“You know you could stay here, Perc.”

He worked his jaw silently, then rubbed his hands over his face. “Thanks. I do know. Even if we aren’t officially back together, I think we should work on it…” he trailed off.

“And not tell her about you eating me out?” I leaned closer because I was mean to both him and myself. Because I knew this top combined with this angle gave him a simple opportunity. And he took it.

His tongue slid out between his lips as his eyes flicked down, stayed, then dragged deliberately back up. “Probably not,” he agreed.

For a long moment neither of us said anything. He had more to lose now than me. We were no longer on equal playing fields. So, I left the ball in his court. “I’m going to go shower.”

I was done washing in the first ten minutes. The second ten was giving him a little wiggle room to decide. I had my hand on the faucet to cut off the water that was beginning to go cold when I heard the door creak open. I watched through the fogged glass, catching a hold of my breath. I watched as he tugged his shirt off. My stomach flipped over itself when he reached for his jeans. What had I done?

The opening door let in a rush of cool air, perking my skin to attention. My eyes raked unapologetically over his naked, aroused body. His dark hair quickly slicked against his stubble covered jaw. His eyes were no longer the sea green but murky like the deep water of the ocean.

“Hey,” he said quietly, cautiously.

“Hey,” I giggled, reaching out to touch his rough jaw. He winced, catching my hand with his. “We probably shouldn’t kiss again.”

“Sure, whatever you want, Percy. What can I do to you?”

He groaned, turning his mouth into my palm, scraping teeth against the vulnerable skin. “Touch me,” he said.

My free hand instantly planted against his chest, scraping at the muscle. His eyes fluttered closed, head tilting back to expose his throat. I slid my other hand into his thick hair, tugging it tightly between my fingers and pulling to grant myself more access to the strong column of his neck. I bit it first, backing him into the tiled wall when he shuddered. I kissed over the reddening skin and moved my hands to his flat stomach, feeling the shuddered breaths beneath my touch.

“Like this?” I asked.

His reply was unintelligible. I kissed down his chest, moving my hand lower still as I went. When my fingers brushed over the v-line of his hips, I shifted my route away from the center and to his thighs. An annoyed grunt escaped his lips. “Hush,” I scolded, getting my knees under me. The now cold water was hitting the back of my neck and flowing down my body. I placed my hands on the inside of both his thighs, trailing them upwards and upwards until he nearly contorted when I gripped him. He let out a scandalous string of curses that quickly turned to moaning silence when I took him into my mouth.

He unraveled in minutes and I let him cum all over the breasts I had teased him with earlier. I rose in front of him, my own rosy cheeks mirroring his. “Now we’re even.”

[princehrry-writings]

Angel with a Shotgun

here we go. this popped into my head after i watched a tiktok about angel shots. if you go on a date and don't feel safe for any reason, please please please find a safe way to remove yourself!! asking for an angel shot is a great way to do that!!

WARNING: tw mentions of implied SA, stalking, harassment, police, EMT's, hospitals, alcohol, being drugged, swearing,

please don't read this if any of this stuff makes you uncomfortable. i don't get graphic with anything but still, put yourself first and be safe!! i love you <3

wordcount: 1907

Harry Styles x Reader

masterlist

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It started off as a normal night. Y/n had met this guy in class and he’d asked her out for drinks. She didn’t get any bad vibes from him, none of her friends had heard anything bad about him, so she deemed him a suitable guy to go have a fun night with.

She’d met him at a bar just off campus and was having a really great night! The pair were dancing and talking and laughing, genuinely enjoying herself for the first time in a long time on a first date.

In Y/n’s experience, usually guys were creeps and girls never decided she was what they were looking for, so she had a hard time in the dating world. This guy, Jack his name is, seemed ok. Keyword being seemed.

She should have known. When he asked to meet her at a bar all the way across town, she should have put it together that he wasn’t what she was looking for. He didn’t put up too big of a fight when she insisted they meet at the bar closer to campus, that way she would know people there and be in a familiar place if she needed to get away from him quickly.

When he started making comments that were off putting to her, things she doesn’t really want to repeat in fear of actually vomiting all over the table, she starts looking for a way out. He keeps trying to play footsie with her under the table and is getting visibly frustrated at her lack of participation, so she tells him she’s going to get them another round of drinks after finishing the one that was already on the table and quickly exits the booth before he can protest.

Harry had been watching from across the room at the bar, seeing this couple who looked like they were on a first date. He watched as they laughed and talked, getting to know each other. But as the night went on, it seemed the woman was getting more and more uncomfortable.

He had told his coworkers to keep an eye out for the two in case anything was to go down, and when he sees her get up and make her way over to his bar, he has a feeling he knows where this is going.

“What can I get for you, love?” He asks her, leaning over the counter to hear her better. She sniffles a little, and takes a deep breath. Leans in before timidly asking.

“Can I get an angel shot?”

Harry’s senses are quickly kicked into gear and he nods, gesturing to his coworker that he’s gonna get this taken care of before meeting her on the other side of the bar. What neither of them had realized was that 1. Jack was walking up to them and 2. he had slipped something into her drink apparently because suddenly she could barely hold her own body weight. Harry caught her before she hit the ground and Jack rushed over, playing the part of concerned boyfriend but the bartender saw right through it.

“Sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to back up.” He tells the man, authority very present in his voice. Jack doesn’t take well to this, eyebrows furrowing and voice lowering in defense.

“S’cuse me mate, but I’m gonna take my girl home. She’s had a few too many, f’you know what I mean.” He chuckles and goes to scoop her up. Harry stops him, putting a hand on the guy's chest, stepping between the girl and this guy.

“You'll do no such thing. This girl has obviously been roofied and it’s you she was running away from. The only thing you’ll be doing tonight is talking to the police, who are making their way in right now to do with you what they will.” Harry says, watching the color drain from this bloke's face. He turned around, ready to make a full run for it but was stopped by not only the police but also a crowd of other guys who heard what was going down and were ready to step in if assistance was needed.

“I didn’t do anything wrong here! She was trying to take advantage of me!” He cries as he’s put in handcuffs and taken away.

“Yeah, it’s obvious the one who’s passed out cold because she was drugged was trying to take advantage of you.” Harry yells after him before turning around and scooping the girl into his arms. Due to the commotion and the presence of not only police but also paramedics, the premises was cleared and the bar was shut down for the night. Harry held the passed out girl close to his body, having had his coworker fetch his jacket from the break room to keep her warm now that the club wasn’t filled with body heat, and waited for the paramedics to come in for her.

When they come in and place her on the gurney, she starts to stir. Little whines and groans escape from her and the EMT’s check her vitals, deeming her stable and letting Harry know she’s going to be ok. He decided to follow to the hospital just so she has a familiar face when she wakes up and has someone to explain her situation that isn’t a scary doctor.

. *

.

It’s a few hours of unrestful sleep at her bedside and his co-worker showing up with a change of clothes for him when she finally starts to come to.

Groaning and reaching up to hold her head but realizing her arms are too heavy to move, she rasps out, “Where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital,” Harry explains, wanting to reach out and hold her hand but not wanting to startle her, “You’re ok but the doctors wanted to keep you overnight for observation.”

“You’re the bartender I asked for the angel shot aren’t you?” She questions after a pregnant pause. He hums a confirmation and she looks over his face a few times, before tears well in her eyes.

“What happened?” A few tears fall from her eyes. She can’t remember much after leaving the table, just the sight of green eyes and curly brown hair nodding at her when she asked for the shot. The rest is pretty much a blur, just random flashes of scenes she can’t quite make out in her head.

“You came over and asked me for the shot and then a few minutes later you passed out. The bloke you were with slipped something in your drink. And unless something happened at the table that I didn’t see, then nothing else happened. Do you remember anything happening at the table?” He explains, hoping her answer is no.

He’d learned her name from the EMT’s who checked your ID once you were loaded into the ambulance but he didn’t know the name of the man she was with. He realizes she doesn’t know his name either.

“No, was just being a sleazy dick. I don’t know how he could have slipped me something, I didn’t get up before I went to you. Must’ve turned my head for a bit too long. God, I should’ve known this was gonna happen!” She groans but he shakes his head.

“You can’t blame yourself for this, darling! He’s a sleazeball, a no good lowlife. S’not your fault.”

“What’s your name?” She voices, peering into his pretty green eyes.

“M’Harry,” he smiles, timidly reaching for her hand, rubbing his thumb soothingly across the soft skin.

“Thank you for staying with me Harry! For helping me…” Y/n says quietly. He shakes his head with a small smile.

“No need to thank me, pet. Would do it over and over again.”

Her smile, while tired and defeated, was enough to show him her gratitude. She feels a weight lift off her chest, hearing that nothing bad happened after she got to him.

She knows it’s probably just nightingale syndrome, but Y/n thinks Harry is terribly adorable. With his messy brown curls and tired green eyes that make it look like he hasn’t slept in ages. She thinks she could see herself going out with him, which is an odd thought considering what happened last night. You’d think that would be enough to turn her off to men for good, but there's just something about him. But now isn’t the time to bring any of that up.

“I’ll call a nurse, tell em’ you’re awake.” He voiced, making his way to the door after gently placing her hand back on the bed.

. * .

“Ms. I’m just calling to let you know the restraining order has gone through. You won’t have to worry about him anymore.”

Y/n felt a weight lift off her chest. After months of being harassed and stalked, she would finally be left alone. Harry leaned in, pressing a kiss to her cheek, stroking the loose hair out of her face.

“S’ finally over, lovie. It’s all over!.” He whispered in her ear, pulling her closer to him, rubbing up and down her thighs. She felt tears spring to her eyes, tears of relief, tears of joy, but also tears of sadness because the last few months had been some of the hardest of her life. She was ready to move on and be done with this nightmare.

When Jack had found out Y/n and Harry got together after that night, it’s like it activated something inside him. Like he thought she was just playing hard to get and he had to literally stalk her to get her attention. He seemed to think she was playing a game. Somewhere in his twisted little mind he had the audacity to think she actually wanted him.

He’d sit right next to her every single class period and would get up and move next to her when she tried to get away with him. He’d show up at her house, sitting across the street just watching her front door, he’d call her phone and text her, he’d wait outside her other classes and follow her around campus. She complained to her university, told them what was going on and they didn’t really do anything. She went to campus security and they brushed it off because “She wasn’t in any danger. He just wants to get to know you.”

So she finally was forced to file a restraining order. Her case was still open, from when he got arrested that night at the bar. They're charging him with second degree assault and criminal harassment because apparently she’s not the only girl he’s done this to. Many other women had spoken up since news of that night had spread around campus. Yet still, the university did nothing.

Harry stood by you every step of the way, picking up the shattered pieces on hard days. He wanted to beat the shit out of this guy and he would if it wouldn’t interfere with the case. He knew you needed him and he didn’t want to chance anything.

There was a pregnant silence between the two lovers. Just letting the silence wash over them, letting themselves breath freely without this weight suffocating them, they basked in it.

It wasn’t completely over, because there was still a trial, but he wouldn’t be coming around without getting arrested again.

That was enough for Y/n to breathe easy.

[jaybird-redhood]

propinquity

wc: 2.2k

pairing: jason todd // gn reader

The first thing you think when you see him for the first time is that he has the cutest smile.

That’s a lie, the first thing you think it that he is so incredibly in shape, and it looks great on him, but the smile thing sounds better in your head.

He's moving into the apartment across from yours a month after you moved into yours. Weird, because the two people in your building closest to your age are 2 and 63, respectively.

You suppose that some wicked twist of fate must’ve brought this upon you for missing your cousin’s birthday party last week, because the guy standing across from you is crazy hot. And looking right at you. And you are in the huge neon Wonder Woman t-shirt that your best friend got for your birthday last year.

Yeah. Karma.

“Nice shirt,” the guy offers, holding in a grin. “You’re really making it work.”

“I-”

“See you around, neighbor.”

And with a shut of a door and an awfully charismatic smirk he’s gone.

The next time you see him is a week later, and this time- luckily, you think- you’re dressed somewhat put together. You run into him while unlocking your door.

"What's got you in a twist?" he asks.

"Um," you start, "I just. Ugh I have so much to do. Like 3 hours of homework, a lecture tomorrow that I cannot skip, and I'm completely out of bread and eggs and can't even you to the store until, like, Thursday at best."

Once you start rambling you can't seem to stop. You slouch against your door. You're not entirely sure why you're telling a stranger all this, but he seems to be listening, so you suppose that’s a good sign

"I get the feeling," he offers, and you look up at him. "I'm majoring in English Lit and my classes are kind of kicking my ass."

You give him a small smile, "Glad to know someone in this building is struggling as much as I am."

"Jason," he says, and he reaches his hand out to you. "My name."

You shake it and tell him yours.

As you both turn back into your respective apartments you think that he maybe isn't as intimidating as you thought.

~

The next day goes by with a really boring lecture and another 3 hours of work you need to do.

The ride home from uni isn't that long, but it's long enough for you to contemplate all the ways that your life went wrong after moving to Gotham. And, maybe as payback for thinking mean things about the city, rain that you think should belong to a category 3 hurricane starts to whip around your car 10 minutes into your drive.

Your clothes are dripping water in literal puddles by the time you get back to your apartment.

Groaning, you start fishing for your keys in your purse while walking up the last flight of stairs.

When you get to your door you stop. Right in front of it there’s a grocery bag. Picking it up and looking inside you see a loaf of bread and a small carton of milk.

You pick it up smiling.

“Jason?” you ask, knocking on his door.

No response.

You shrug and turn around. Remember to thank him the next time you run into each other; you think.

~

That next time doesn’t happen to be that long and thank goodness for you.

“You know, we really need to stop meeting like this,” he says to you.

You’re sitting on the floor outside of your door looking rather pathetic, and he’s giving you the most awful smirk you’ve ever seen. (Not that it looks bad on him though. You seem to think that nothing could really look that bad on him)

“I swear I’m usually more put together than this,” you sigh to him. “You moving here jinxed me!”

“Yeah yeah. You’re locked out, aren’t you?”

You give him your best withering I’m going to kill you stare, but it must not be working because he just laughs even harder at you.

“This is completely not my fault it’s just I lost my second set of keys like right when I moved in and then today when I got home, I accidentally left them in my car, but my second set of car keys is in my apartment so now I can’t get them out, stop laughing at me!”

“God you’re a mess,” Jason says- finally finished laughing at you and maybe taking a bit of pity on how disheveled you look. “You couldn’t call anyone to get you in?”

You shake your head.

“My friend is the only other person with a set, but they’re out of town, and our landlord is being a dick and telling me it’s my fault in the first place, so I need to deal with it. I’ve been sitting out here for like an hour.”

“All I’m hearing is that it is your fault and now you’re just moping about it feeling bad about yourself.”

You tilt your head against the door so hard that it makes you wince a bit.

“Ok fine,” he says crossing his arms.

“What?”

“Wait right here.”

He goes into his apartment and comes back out with a skinny metal thing you don’t recognize.

You look at him in confusion and he just motions for you to scoot out of the way as he sticks it in your locks and starts to pick it.

You sigh in relief.

“Thank you thank you thank you. For everything. I swear I will get my life together, so you don’t feel like you have to keep cleaning up my messes.

“I don’t mind,” he says with a small smile, “Take your time.”

And with that he opens the door to your apartment and turns back to his.

“By the way, you should really get better locks. That was way too easy.”

You make a note in your head to get that done sometime. As you’re lying on your couch that night, you’re AirDropped a photo on your phone. Saving it up you see it’s a piece of paper with neat handwriting on it: a phone number and a smiley face, Jason’s name at the bottom.

You smile too and add the number to your contacts.

~

Over the next few weeks, you and Jason start talking more, both over text and through the various times when you run into each other outside your doors.

Each interaction is better than the next, and you soon start to realize that Jason isn’t just some hot guy with no brains. He’s sweet and charismatic, has a whole wall full of bookshelves, could probably quote any classical novel by heart, has incredibly good taste in music, and best (or worst) of all, would make incredible friend material.

It’s just that as you become closer friends, you start to realize that that might not be all you want.

It’s a stupidly cold Friday morning when he texts you, and you’re covered in blankets and wrapped in sweatshirts in your bed. Movie at my place tonight?

You text back your approval and a quick be there at 6 before getting ready for classes.

The day goes by slower than you hoped.

It might be the anticipation of seeing Jason again, or more likely the hours of lectures you have to sit through, but you’re elated when your final class for the day gets let out.

The hours in between are a blur.

A blur which leads to the two of you sitting on his couch watching Romeo and Juliet together, a blanket thrown over your bodies.

You have the obligatory bowl of popcorn resting on your legs, and every few minutes Jason reaches across your lap to take a handful.

The way you’re laying half on top on him is completely deliberate, as to take as much of his body heat as possible. Your landlord had turned off heating 3 weeks prior to ‘save money’ or some other bullshit.

Jason’s not complaining though.

Once your popcorn bowl is finished and your head is in his lap, he runs his fingers through your hair absentmindedly. It might be the nicest feeling you’ve ever felt.

Throughout the movie you exchange snide comments about the plot back and forth. You start trying to say funny things whenever you can just to hear how sweet his laugh sounds to your ears.

By the end of the movie, you’re only slightly in tears, or so you tell yourself.

“Are you crying right now?” Jason asks incredulously, wearing a teasing smile.

“It’s not my fault,” you half say half moan, “Leonardo DiCaprio just has that effect on me.”

He just laughs and pulls you upright until you’re sitting on his lap.

His eyes are a shade of blue green that you’ve never seen before, although you could swear their getting greener by the second.

You watch his gaze drop down to your lips before staring you right in the eyes again.

“Can I kiss you?”

“God yes,” you tell him, and kiss him right back.

~

The next week is somewhat uneventful, even though you and Jason had been meeting each other almost every night, rotating apartments based on whose house was warmer each particular night.

Tonight is your night, and you’ve been waiting the whole day to show him the film you had rented to watch together.

The walk up to your door is easier than usual, and you have a bounce in your step that’s making you feel even more elated than normal taking out your keys to unlock your apartment.

You open your door and your bag drops. The keys clatter when they hit the hardwood, and the silence that follows is deafening.

“You’re bleeding on my carpet,” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth.

There Jason is, bleeding quite profusely, and using your kitchen counter to keep himself vertical. He’s wearing what looks to be a torn half of a domino mask and an extremely hot leather jacket.

(Not that this was the time for noticing his fashion choices, but you filed that thought away for later.)

What really catches your eye though is the huge red bat symbol on his chest, and the red helmet next to it sitting on your counter.

He shifts a little to the side before stumbling through saying, “Um, so, I know this isn’t ideal and I’m really sorry to put you in this situation, but I seriously do not feel like bleeding out tonight and-”

“Oh my god this is great,” you cut him off with. “I thought you were a hit-man!”

“Wait what.”

“Shit no that’s not what I meant- kind of, hang on we should probably stop you from dying before having this conversation.”

You walk over to him to get a better look at his wounds.

“God Jace, you look like death warmed over.”

He just stares at you.

“You have a bunch of stuff in your bathroom, right?”

At least this elicits a reaction. He grimaces in pain but gives you a nod of his head in conformation.

“Ok I’ll be right back, don’t move.”

He gives you a look that says seriously, where would I go.

3 minutes later you’re back with a needle and thread, and some sterilizing spray.

“This should be fine,” you tell him, “I took a first aid class last year with my friends and passed with flying colors according to the nurse.”

“Just try to keep them tight and neat. I trust you,” he says, and your heart pounds just a little harder.

You respond with a nervous laugh but take a deep breath and start working.

~

An hour and a half later you’re done.

The combination of pain meds, bandages, and a whole lot of stitches eventually led to you and Jason laying in your bed together, both completely exhausted.

He turns his head to face you.

“Could we maybe go back to the hit-man thing?”

“Oh uh. Well I saw a bunch of shirts covered in blood in your laundry in the bathroom, not to mention all the weirdly specific first-aid you had,” you tell him.

“And also the assorted guns and knives you have hidden all over. I guess I just assumed? But the whole Red Hood thing is so much better,” you reassure him.

“You found all my knives?”

You smile up at him.

“I love that that’s thing you chose to focus on.”

“And you’re really not mad that I didn’t tell you about the whole vigilante thing before?” he asks.

“Jay, I had already resigned myself to life forever with some shady hit-man that also happened to be incredibly good looking. Red Hood is ten times better than that. I’m not going to run away from you just because you’re incredibly intimidating and probably could kill me. I see that as an added bonus,” you say, with as much charm as you can muster without yawning.

“Just. Be careful, ok? I’d hate to make this a routine.”

He responds by pulling you closer to his body.

“I promise,” he whispers into your head. “You really to remember to get better locks by the way, breaking in was still way too easy.”

You let out a small laugh and finally you let yourself give into sleep.

[bees--in-my--bones]

Mission: New Asgard

Character: Loki x reader (completely gender neutral. There are zero indications of the readers gender, no pronouns at all. Note that this is written from the perspective of a woman, though, so if something is too biased, please let me know!)

Summary: You are assigned to help integrate the Asgardians to Midgardian society, but your mission ends a whole lot different than you expect.

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 5,493

A/N: My second fic! The title is supposed to be a play on the Mission: Impossible movies, but I've never actually seen one, so sorry if it's wrong lol. Now that I officially have more than one fic, I'm gonna make a masterlist, so that will be coming soon. I hope you like the story!

You rapped your knuckles on the office door that had been left slightly ajar. “Director Mackenzie? You asked to see me?”

“Come on in, Y/N. Elena was just leaving.”

You opened the door and nodded at Agent Rodriguez as she made her way out. She gave you a curt nod in return.

Alphonso Mackenzie, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., leaned back into the chair behind his desk and gestured for you to have a seat. “And for the last time, Y/N, you are one of my most trusted operatives. Call me Mack, please.”

You sat down. “Sorry, Mack.”

He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a file folder stuffed to the brim with documents, which he dropped onto the desk between you, the loud thwap resounding in the small office.

“I have a mission for you, Agent. A few days ago, the planet Asgard was completely destroyed.”

“Asgard?” you interjected. “Like where Thor is from?”

He nodded. “You’ll find all of that and more in these files. Thor and his brother Loki have set up a colony in a small town in Norway. We need you to supervise the integration of the Asgardian people onto Earth. This is the first known mass migration of aliens that our planet has ever seen, and we need to be keeping a close eye on this, or it could go sideways real fast.”

You pulled the files closer and began to flip through a few pages. “I thought Loki was a bad guy. What was it? 80 people in 2 days? Plus the invasion of New York. Why are we letting him back here?”

Mack sighed and rubbed his temple. “I can’t personally vouch for the man, but Thor claims he was being mind controlled. According to Thor, Loki eventually broke free of the control and killed the guy who was behind the whole thing. Some alien named Thanos? Tony Stark himself seems okay with this New Asgard business, and you know how paranoid he gets. So for now, we observe, not attack.”

“Gotcha,” you said. “When do I leave?”

“As soon as you can get your stuff together and get out of here. Say the word and we'll start prepping a Quinjet.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” you said, standing up and grabbing the files. “I’ll let you know as soon as I get an idea of my timeline.”

“Thank you Agent L/N, and good luck.”

------

You gripped the steering wheel tightly, barely making a rather sharp turn. When you finished this assignment, you were going to have to have a talk with whoever designed these roads. Despite the unsafe driving conditions, though, you sighed in contentment. You were back in the field, this is where you belonged.

You pulled a van loaded to the brim with various tech items mixed in with your personal possessions down a bumpy road, coming to a stop before a small, rustic-looking, seaside town, where two men and a woman stood for you. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. You turned the key and shut off the van, trying to get a read on each of the people standing before you.

The buff blond man was clearly Thor. You recognized him from the news and the files you had read. Next to him was a tall woman with dark hair who had wan air of confidence about her. You had never seen her, nor did S.H.I.E.L.D. have any data on her. The third man was lanky, but clearly still fit, with dark hair that fell just past his shoulders. He was clad in green and had a demeanor that made you shiver. This was Loki, scourge of New York and would-be king of Midgard. But Thor and Tony Stark had vouched for him, and that would have to be enough for Y/N L/N, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.

You exited the van and heard Thor call to you. “Welcome, newcomer! Our scouts observed your vehicle approaching our home!”

You walked briskly towards the group. Game time. Put on the 'no time for your shit' face and get to business. Coming to a stop in front of them, you began to speak. “My name is Y/N L/N and I am here on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D., the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division of the American government. We have been granted permission from the government of Norway to oversee this colony's development. This is an unprecedented situation on Earth, and as such, we have written new protocols. I am the agent assigned to this case, and I will be supervising the construction of New Asgard and its integration into Midgardian society.”

Thor furrowed his brow. “I was under the impression that S.H.I.E.L.D. was controlled by Hydra.”

You nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. The previous incarnation of S.H.I.E.L.D. was corrupt, but we are a hardy breed, so to speak. A much smaller branch has survived, and deals with various situations across the world, aliens being one of them.”

Thor nodded. “Then we welcome your presence here with open arms.”

Loki scoffed. “You are too trusting, brother. This so-called agent could be anyone. What cause do we have to believe this story?”

You turned to him. “Loki, God of Mischief, Chaos, and Lies, correct? You of all people should know, am I lying?”

He stared at you, long and hard, before shaking his head. “No, I suppose you aren’t,” he admitted.

“There’s that then,” you said. “Now, I will need to ask the three of you some questions regarding yourselves, if you don’t mind.”

-----

The strange woman was first. You had been given a small shack to conduct your interviews out of, the woman stared at you from across the table, looking for all the world like she had somewhere better to be.

“Name?”

“Brunnhilde.”

“No family name?”

“I am a Valkyrie. I have no blood other than my sisters.”

“Right,” you said, “You lived on Asgard then?”

Her face took on a sour look. “A long time ago. I’ve spent the last few centuries on a different planet, Sakaar.”

You scribbled the information into your notepad. “What do you do then? If you were gone so long, why are you back with the Asgardians?”

Her chest puffed with pride. “I am to be the new King of Asgard. On the Summer Solstice we will hold a coronation. It will give the people enough time to accept the transfer of power from Odin’s bloodline to me, and for me to learn how to lead.”

You nodded and took note of it. “Congratulations,Your Majesty-to-be. I believe that’s all I need for now, but I expect we will see a lot of each other over the months.”

-----

Thor. The large man sat across from you, seemingly happy to be there.

“Thor Odinson, correct?” you asked him.

“Yes.”

“And I hear you're passing on the title of King to Brunnhilde?”

A dark look came over his face. “I have learned recently that my family has done many wrongs by Asgard. As long as I breathe, I will fight for Asgard and her people, but I do not believe it is my place to rule. Brunnhilde loves the people and has a talent for leadership. She will be a much better King than I.”

“A very noble decision, Thor. Thank you very much, and please send your brother in on your way out.”

-----

“Name?”

“I believe you know who I am.”

You sighed. “It's a formality, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Friggason.”

“What?”

“I prefer Loki Friggason.”

You nodded, and made the necessary changes to his file. “Noted. Anything else I should know about?”

“Just a warning,” he said, leaning forward, his voice dangerously low. “I am the God of Lies. The truth is a luxury I will afford no one, especially your little government. The God of Chaos is an enemy you do not want to have.”

You raised an eyebrow, and wrote a single word in your file, exaggerating each syllable as you wrote it out. “Dra. Ma. Tic.”

Truth be told, you were a little scared, given this guy’s reputation, but you would be damned before you let your exterior crack.

Loki scowled. He seemed to do that a lot. “You mortals think you are so funny, do you not?”

You shrugged. “I’m delightful.” You slipped your papers into your file folder and stood up. “See you around, Friggason.”

You left, leaving Loki slightly aghast that you had managed to get the last word in.

-----

You walked calmly out of the hut, then quickened your pace as you made your way back to your van. Loki, as much as it pained you to say, had been intimidating, and your heart was beating a mile a minute.

You opened the door and climbed inside, shoving your paperwork into a filing cabinet, which you promptly locked. You turned to your computers, fiddling with the buttons, atttempting to establish your connection back to S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters.

"It's quite rude to walk out on a prince, you know."

You jumped and whipped around to see Loki standing outside your van.

"What the hell!"

"I said-"

"I know what you said, Your Highness," you interrupted. "But you scared the shit out of me. “

"Many apologies," he said as he hoisted himself up to sit on the edge of the van, his insincerity clear. "And I grant you permission to refer to me as Loki."

"How generous," you muttered, before going back to your instruction manual. Technology had never been your forte. You chose being a field agent over a scientist for a reason.

The both of you sat in silence for a while, you working slowly through the instructions that Fitz, a S.H.I.E.L.D agent much more qualified in machinery than you, had given you.

You glanced up at Loki, half expecting to see him sleeping against the van's frame, only to find his gaze resting on you.

"Can I help you?" you asked.

He just laughed a bit, like staring at you had been the most normal thing in the world. "I am watching you, Midgardian, lest you sabotage the society my brother is trying to build."

"I never took you for the loyal type," you said, putting away your things. "I'm gonna have to ask you to get outta here though."

“Why?”

You gestured to the twilight outside. “It’s late. I’ve had a long day. I’m going to bed.”

Loki strained his head slightly, attempting to peek into the van. “Where do you plan on sleeping?”

Not breaking eye contact, you grabbed a cord on the wall and yanked, and the rusty old pull-down bed flopped out with a loud groan. The rickety old thing was probably going to give you back problems by the time you were done here, but such was life. S.H.I.E.L.D.’s money was usually spent on more pressing things than upgrading amenities for field agents.

Loki’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “You are not sleeping in that. We’ve built a larger house for Thor, Brunnhilde, and I. You’ll stay in one of the guest rooms there.”

You shrugged. “It’s not too bad out here.”

“Mortals,” he said under his breath, almost indecipherably, before speaking again, at a normal volume this time. “I insist. Whether I like it or not, you are a guest of Asgard, and you will be treated as such. Besides, that bed looks seconds away from collapsing.”

You nodded, trying not to betray your confusion at the combination of his kindness and rudeness. “Thank you, just give me a second to lock up.” You grabbed the pieces you had been fiddling with, then paused, your hand hovering over the satellite dish. “Actually, if you’re just gonna sit there, you may as well make yourself useful. You can teleport right?”

Suspicion crossed his face. “Yes?”

You held out the device. “Hop up to the top of the van, there should be a little cord. It’ll fit into this port here,” you said gesturing. “Plug it in for me, please?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You ask a god to do your bidding?”

You scoffed. “You’re not a god, you're an alien. And I just asked for a favor. You’re free to say no, but I’m exhausted, and as much as I would like to put off climbing on the roof off until tomorrow, I need to send a check in to headquarters ASAP.”

He begrudgingly reached out and took the dish and you watched as his form rippled green and faded away. You heard shuffling on the roof for a moment, then silence, before the Asgardian reappeared in front of you.

“If that’s all, Midgardian?” he said.

“Thank you, Highness,” you said, ignoring his tone. “And thank you for offering the room.” The monitor beeped a confirmation that your signal had connected and you punched in a code to let S.H.I.E.L.D. know you had made it to New Asgard. You grabbed the bag you had packed and hopped out of the van, waiting for Loki to follow suit before closing the doors and locking the vehicle.

You offered him your arm. “Shall we?”

He brushed past you, rolling his eyes at your mock-politeness.

“Alright then,” you muttered, “This is gonna be fun, isn’t it?” Taking one last look at the van behind you, you moved to catch up with the Asgardian walking briskly away from you.

-----

Loki had not been talkative on the way to the house, and after being curtly shown to your room, he quickly left. You had settled into a decently sized room complete with a desk and a small bathroom attached. Undoubtedly, the house was a far cry from an Asgardian palace, but it was much larger than needed for three, even four, people. Surprisingly, you got a sound night’s sleep.

You woke to rambunctious laughter, and, wiping bleariness from your eyes, got out of bed. You stood in front of a small mirror on the wall and attempted to make yourself look slightly less like you had just woken up. Moving to your bag, you put on clothes that were much more professional than the old sweatshirt you were currently wearing.

Finally satisfied, you stepped out of your room and followed the sounds of conversation into the kitchen, where you found Brunnhilde and Thor joking at the counter while Loki sat at a dining room table, reading a book.

Seeing you, Thor broke into a smile. “Y/N! Loki had told us you would be staying here!”

You returned the smile. “Thank you for letting me stay here, Thor. I really appreciate this.”

The large man set a plate heaping with food on the table and gestured for you to sit. You did, glancing at Loki as you took the seat across from him, but he made no move to acknowledge that you were there. Brunnhidle began to speak. “We will be building fishing boats today down at the docks today. Will you be joining us, Y/N? We could use an extra set of hands.”

You nodded. “I don’t mind helping out. I have a few things to take care of first, though, so I’ll meet you all down there.”

Thor clapped. “Excellent! We’ll make an Asgardian out of you yet!”

You laughed softly and finished your meal as Thor and Brunnhilde began to tell you the plans for the day.

------

After breakfast, you ran up to your room to grab your laptop and then met the rest of the group on the stairs of the house. “I’ll see you guys in a little while,” you said, waving while walking in the opposite direction.

Thor and Brunnhidle branched off from you, but Loki, still silent, walked beside you towards your van.

You looked at him quizzically, but he seemed to have no intention of indicating why he was with you, and not with Thor and Brunnhilde.

Finally, as you approached your van, you caved and asked. “Why are you with me instead of your brother?”

“I’ve consulted with Thor. I will be supervising you for the remainder of your stay here.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “I’m supposed to be supervising you guys!”

“You are a stranger,” he replied, “and there’s something about you that I don’t trust. I have harmed Asgard many times over, and I don’t intend to let you get away with hurting these people any more.” There was an edge to his voice, that you had to admit, scared you.

After a long moment, you sighed. “Fine. I could use an assistant, I guess.” Which was apparently the right thing to say, because it made him clearly flustered.

“I am no one’s assistant, I am a prince of Asgard,” he argued as you turned away from him, partially to unlock your van and partially to hide your laughter.

You hopped up into the vehicle and grabbed a folder and tossed it to Loki, who was still sputtering about his status behind you. “Scan those in, would you?” you said gesturing at a machine in the back corner of the van.

He huffed but snatched the folder from your hand and went to fiddle with the machine.

You glanced over. “Do you know how to use that?”

“Yes,” he snapped. “This is primitive technology compared to what I have seen in my travels.”

You shrugged. “Okay.” You turned to your computer and queued up a call to S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ. “I’m gonna need you to be quiet for a second,” you said, right before Mack’s face popped onto the screen.

“Y/N! How’s Norway treating you?” he said with a smile.

“Colder than I thought, but not too bad. They’ve given me an actual bed to sleep in. You really need to update the beds in these vans,” you joked.

“I’ll let the budget committee know,” he replied. “I trust Thor and Loki are being cooperative, then?”

“More or less,” you said before stepping to the side, putting Loki in full view of your webcam.

Mack’s eyes widened. The change was subtle, but you could tell he was surprised. “That’s Loki.”

“Yup.”

“In your van.”

“Yup.”

“Why?”

“His Highness has deemed me untrustworthy, and decided I need a chaperone.”

“Right,” said Mack, suspicion in his voice. “Well you know the drill. Weekly check-ins, and don’t hesitate to contact me if you have any problems,” he said, looking at Loki.

“Gotcha, Mack. Talk to you next week,” you said, turning off the call. You turned to Loki, who had yet to even turn the scanner on. “You don’t know how to work that, do you?”

He glared at you and did not reply.

“Come here, Your Highness, I’ll show you. It really isn’t that hard.”

“You know the honorific loses its value when you say it so sarcastically,” he said, while watching your motions intensely, memorizing the steps to work the machine.

“Sorry, Highness.”

-----

The two of you walked down to the beach shortly after, meeting Brunnhilde and Thor at the docks. You were allotted supplies and miraculously, you and Loki ended up caulking the same boat.

Great.

The silence was deafening at first, until you decided to break it.

“You know I never would have assumed that someone of such status would be out here doing the dirty work,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your voice.

He grimaced. “I owe Asgard a debt. I intend to repay it, however I can offer service.”

“A very noble stance from Loki, God of Mischief.”

He grinned and looked up, meeting your eyes. “I find that one can be noble while still being quite mischievous.”

You felt your face heat up, and ducked your head, looking down at your work. He had smiled at you, for the first time, and what he had said had sounded almost like flirting. Why had that made your stomach turn in such a strange way?

“Oh my,” he laughed. “Seems that the Midgardian is finally speechless.”

“Just trying to hold my tongue around my betters, Highness,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Now let’s get to work before Brunnhilde has our heads.”

-----

Finally, late that afternoon, the work was done, and the New Asgard armada of fishing boats was ready for a celebratory launch. You and Loki stood in the crowd, watching Brunnhilde give a speech in front of the flagship, which really wasn’t much larger than the rest of the fleet. Loki leaned over and whispered to you, “You know, back in the day, the Norse would give a human sacrifice to the sea god to ensure safe passage.”

You wrinkled your nose, put off by the suggestion. “I think I prefer the more English tradition,” you replied, watching as Brunnhilde smashed a bottle of champagne against the hull of the ship.

Loki sighed. “Such a waste of perfectly good champagne.”

“I’m sure there's plenty more alcohol around here somewhere,” you said as you walked over to your boat, preparing for her maiden voyage. You hopped in and offered Loki your hand to help him in. He hesitated, but he took it.

“What should we name her?” you asked.

“What?”

“You know,” you shrugged, “We have to give our ship a name.”

Loki seemed to ponder it a moment before deciding. “How about The Midgardian?”

You put your hand on your chest in mock flattery. “Aww, you named her after me, didn’t you?”

He laughed. “It’s a fitting name. She’s lackluster and hardly even worthy of being called a boat.” His words were biting, and maybe you were imagining things, but you could have sworn you heard the playfulness in his voice.

You laughed and tossed him an oar. “For you, Highness.”

“Many thanks, Midgardian.”

The two of you followed the rest of New Asgard, rowing out to sea. Suddenly, you noticed a small sprig of water in the bottom of the boat. “Loki,” you said, the fear dawning on you, “I think the boat is leaking.”

He turned to see the small leak coming through the floorboards. “Okay,” he said, suddenly serious, “Don’t panic. Let’s turn around.”

You switched the side you were paddling on, beginning to move the boat in a circle. Before you could completely orient yourselves, the floorboards cracked, and a large chunk of wood detached from the boat. You yelped as the water came flooding in.

Loki swore. “Can you swim?” he asked you, speaking quickly.

You nodded. All S.H.I.E.L.D. agents knew how to swim.

“Then jump!” he said, and you did, without a second thought. Your boat was sinking fast, and there was no way you were going to make it back to shore dry.

You hit the water, and a second later, heard Loki behind you.

“Swim towards Thor’s boat, he can get us-”

You missed the rest of his sentence as you were pulled away from him.

You fought the current that had taken hold of you, but your panic was making things worse. In the confusion, you lost control, and dipped under water. The ocean filled your mouth. Breaking the surface again, you choked out most of the water, trying to stay calm and find a way out, but every second you were being pulled further out to sea. Falling under once again, you were prepared to accept your fate when a strong pair of arms wrapped themselves around you and pulled you into calmer waters.

You gasped for air as Loki held you against himself, allowing you time to recover.

“Wha- How did-” you began, once you could speak.

“Don’t talk, just breathe,” he said. “I am a god, I can overpower currents much easier than your mortal bodies can.”

“Thank you, Loki,” you said.

“You are welcome, Y/N.”

A larger boat pulled up next to you, Thor leaning over the side. “Brother, Agent Y/N! Take my hand!”

Loki helped you onto the deck of the boat before climbing over the side himself.

You flopped onto the deck, panting. “Rest in peace, SS Midgardian.”

-----

Later that night, you and Loki sat together watching the fire crackle. Thor had brought you a hot drink, and after plenty of fussing ensuring that you were okay, had left to do something leader-ish with Brunnhilde.

Suddenly, a loud scuffling at the door broke the silence and a series of thudding footsteps made their way toward you. Upon seeing your company, Loki sighed, exasperated. You turned and saw a large figure that appeared to be made out of rock alongside a smaller, insect-looking creature.

The large one began to speak, his gentle tone in contrast with his threatening form. “Hello. Um, I’m Korg and this is my friend Meik. We came to apologize for the whole boat thing. Thor put us in charge of wood collection, so it’s our bad, really. Sorry.”

“Oh, um, that’s alright,” you said, still processing the fact that there were two very large, very strange-looking, aliens in the living room. “You couldn’t have known the wood was rotting, and no one’s dead, so we’re good.”

“Alright, cool,” said Korg. “No harm, no foul, yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“Right then,” he said, scooping up Miek. “We’ve gotta get going. Thor put us on clean up duty for the next week.”

“Thank you, Korg!” you called, but he was already out the door.

Loki let out another sigh. “Idiots.”

You turned back to him. “I had no idea there were other aliens here! How many species came with you?”

“Just Korg and Meik. And unfortunately, they are around a lot.”

You settled into your armchair. “I’m gonna have to document this.” But even as you said it, you could feel yourself drifting off.

-----

The next day you woke in your own bed, slightly embarrassed at the implication that Loki had carried you there, but he never brought it up, so neither did you.

The next few weeks were filled with collecting information and helping with the construction of New Asgard to fill the rest of your time. Always, of course, accompanied by Loki. In a strange way, you were becoming friends. The two of you never exchanged a single kind word, but your actions said otherwise. Before long, it seemed less like Loki was breathing down your neck and more like he was genuinely relaxing around you.

“Hey, Mack,” you said, beginning your weekly call-in, Loki now sitting beside you instead of hiding in the background.

“Hey there, Y/N. How’s it going, Loki?”

“Quite well, thank you, Director Mackenzie.”

You stared at him in shock. You had never heard Loki use honorifics for a Midgardian.

The rest of the call was uneventful, and as soon as you hung up, you whirled toward Loki.

“You were polite!” you said, your tone accusatory.

Loki sniffed. “I do have manners, you know.”

“You called him Director Mackenzie.”

“And?”

“And I can count the number of times you’ve used my real name on one hand. It’s always ‘Midgardian’ this ‘Midgardian’ that. You know Mack’s a Midgardian too, right?”

He rolled his eyes. “And you call me ‘Highness’ in that terrible mocking tone of yours. The disrespect is mutual.”

You sighed. “Fine, we’ll call a truce. I’ll call you Loki, you call me Y/N, deal?” You stuck out your hand, waiting for his response.

He seemed to be considering his options, before he settled on his choice. “Deal.” He grasped your hand firmly within his and shook it.

“Glad we’re on the same page, Loki,” you said, leaning back into your chair.

“What now, Y/N?” he asked.

You shrugged. “I dunno. Brunnhilde and Thor don’t have anything going on, and I’m done with what I need to do.” You started clicking around on your computer. “Wanna watch a movie?”

“I’ve heard of movies, but never seen one.”

“You’ve never seen a movie?” you asked. “I guess that makes sense. It’s basically just a recorded play. You’ll love it.” You pulled up a movie. One of the lesser known perks of working for S.H.I.E.L.D.: free Netflix. “This is one of my favorites,” you said as the opening credits rolled.

“I suppose you aren’t giving me a choice then?” he asked.

“Nope,” you replied. “Now be quiet and watch.”

-----

Later that night, you were in the kitchen with Thor, cleaning up after dinner. The two of you worked in comfortable silence until suddenly-

“Are you and my brother involved romantically?”

The plate you were washing fell into the soapy water with a splash.

“What?”

“I have never seen him willingly be around a person as he is you,” Thor explained. “And he has changed. He is happier than he was before Midgard.”

You shook your head. “He doesn’t- I thought he was just ‘supervising’ in case I tried to kill you all.”

“Hardly. The man just has no clue how to adjust to a more… domestic lifestyle. He wants to be around you, he just does not know how to express that.”

“Huh,” was all you managed to say, not looking up from the dishes.

Thor let out a small chuckle. “One day you two will figure it out,” he said so quietly you weren’t even sure he said it.

-----

More time passed, you and Loki still spending your days together. Before you knew it, the Summer Solstice was here, and you spent the morning preparing.

Rushing around your van, alone for once, you scrambled to get your work done quickly before Brunnhidle’s coronation began.

Finishing up you glanced at your monitor when you saw a message pop up.

Alphonso Mackenzie: I forgot to mention it in our call this week, but you’re coming up on the six month mark, and there seems to be no complications with Asgard’s transition, so we’ll be pulling you back to HQ. We’ll sort out the details in next week’s meeting.

You felt a sinking feeling in your chest, which was quickly replaced by determination as you began to type your response.

-----

You hurried to Loki’s side, panting slightly, making it to the coronation just in time for Brunnhidle to make her entrance.

“You’re late,” he whispered.

“Shh,” you said. “They’re starting.”

-----

After every great coronation comes an even greater feast, and the Asgardians spent the rest of the day revealing and celebrating their new leader.

Surprisingly, you had seen very little of Loki. That wouldn’t last long though, because as the sun dipped below the horizon, your closest friend in New Asgard appeared from the crowd and said nothing as he led you to a private space away from the partygoers.

“I’ve hardly seen you all night,” he said, as soon as the two of you had a moment of relative silence.

“I know,” you laughed softly. “It’s been strange to not be around you.”

Your smile fell and you looked up at him. “Look, Loki, I have some news, and I’m not sure how you’re going to feel about it.”

His expression turned serious and he led you to a small bench, where the both of you sat. He stayed silent, waiting for you to speak.

“I got a message from Mack today. They want me back in America.”

Loki’s entire demeanor changed. “What? You can’t go back. There’s still so much I- so much supervising to be done here.”

“That’s where the part I’m unsure of comes in,” you said. “I talked to Mack, and the specifics still need to be discussed, but if we can get agreement from all parties, he wants to create a new position at S.H.I.E.L.D. I’d be the first permanent Asgardian-Midgardian liaison that S.H.I.E.L.D. has ever had.”

His face broke into a grin and he clasped your hands into his. “That’s wonderful! Why would I have any problems with that?”

“You haven’t always been my biggest fan,” you said, nudging his arm gently.

He was silent for a moment, looking for the words. “Maybe not at first,” he began slowly, looking you directly in your eyes, “but now, I’d argue that you are closer to me than anyone else.”

You suddenly became all too aware of his hands resting on yours, and the closeness of his face to yours. “Loki…”

“I hate to admit it, but after a long talk with Thor, I’ve realized that I’ve grown quite fond of you, Y/N.”

“I guess I’ve grown fond of you too, Your Highness,” you said, smiling softly.

“Oh, Midgardian,” he said, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice as his face drew nearer.

You didn’t remember which of you closed the gap, only that it was the most magical kiss you had ever had.

A/N: Thanks for reading! :)

[lilyofthesword-writes]

Insistence

Summary: Loki is being stubborn even when injured, not wanting help for fear of seeming weak. You ignore his protests and tend to him anyways.

Pairing: Loki x Field/Combat Medic!Reader

Word Count: 2,864

Warnings/Disclaimers: Mild violence. Injuries, burns. I don’t go into gory detail. Minor character death alluded to.

A/N: This one took longer than I anticipated. I wound up rewriting it midway through. The whole combat medic has been on my list of ideas for a while with only the most basic idea in my head. Once I start writing, it veered off in a different direction.

Masterlist

“I do not require your assistance, Mortal,” Loki spat, his voice lacking the venom it was usually laced with especially when you were trying to do your job.

You scoffed, gently dabbing at the tiny lacerations on his cheek. “Well, you’re getting it anyways. What kind of field medic would I be if I didn’t help everyone on the team?”

He scowled as you brushed a rogue ribbon of inky hair behind his ear so you could make sure you didn’t miss anything. In truth, this was the first time he didn’t continuously insist on pushing you away. There was always something about him not needing your treatments or someone else needing to be tended to first - Any excuse he could use to deny help. Then again, there was nowhere for him to run this time.

Either Fury’s intel had been wrong, your team’s plans had been leaked or both. The HYDRA base you all had been sent to had been overstocked in both operatives and ammunition. Even with the legacy team that accepted Loki almost half a year ago, you weren’t prepared.

Nat had been the worst, immediately being taken down when she attempted to infiltrate the base. That was when the HYDRA members started spilling out from within and around the base. With the rest of the team providing backup, Clint was able to help you lug her back to the Quinjet where you cleaned the deep gash in her side and stitched her together again. Of course, Clint wasn’t going to stand down. He stayed by the ramp, firing arrow after arrow to keep some of the heat off his companions. You wound up having to patch up his bleeding leg while he continued to fight.

Steve was the next to return. He collapsed in a seat as you reached him. Bruised and battered, he was mostly alright save for the possibility of some broken ribs. Tony crashed-landed onto the ramp, the metal of his suit screeching and scraping as he skidded inside. He was in the same boat as Steve along with his suit quickly losing power. There wasn’t much left he could do. Thor lumbered backwards into the Quinjet, Mjolnir still boomeranging out into the field to take down what enemies he could. With the God of Thunder standing guard, Clint disappeared to the cockpit.

The engines whirred to life. “Okay, guys! Jet’s primed and ready for take off. We got everyone?” Clint called out.

You took a look around, hearing the engines ready themselves. Thor cursed under his breath as he continued throwing his hammer. Where was… Oh… Oh no.

Shoving the cotton ball doused in antiseptic into Tony’s hand, you peeled away from his side and hovered near Thor. Against the bright white snow, a twister of black, green and gold ferociously danced. Loki was still out there.

“Do NOT take off yet!” you hollered back.

With a huff, you opened a hidden compartment and pulled out a sniper rifle along with its tripod. After piecing together the barrels, you attached the small tripod and settled on the floor, taking aim in Loki’s general direction. You popped off a couple rounds onto any of the HYDRA agents who dared try to catch the mischievous god off guard.

Tony shuffled to his feet, cursing when he realized just what was happening. By this time, he had removed himself from the drained Iron Man suit. “Trade places, Legolas! Reindeer Games is still out there!” He dashed to the cockpit.

You fired again, this operative having gotten too close for comfort. Loki had turned just in time to see opponent drop dead at his feet. With a near indiscernible nod that could only be seen through your scope, he carried on, slowly making his way to the Quinjet.

Despite his own injury, Clint was swiftly back at your side. With the extra backup, an exhausted Thor was able to make it off the ramp, farther into the fray and meet his brother halfway. Clint and you kept the path clear enough for them to rush back. It was stunning to see how well they could work together when they needed to.

The moment they were in reach of the ramp, you leapt to your feet and with Clint pulled the exhausted brothers on board. The ramp lifted as you tugged Loki into sitting, and the Quinjet took off. So, here you were, attempting to take care of the trickster’s wounds after having checked on Thor.

“I am a god,” he sneered half heartedly. “I will heal quickly. This is unnecessary.” He winced lightly as the antiseptic stung his cheek.

You sighed, “Any one can heal those cuts, but just because you can do so faster than the rest of us, doesn’t mean you are impervious to infections. Just less likely to get them.”

He went silent at that, either realizing you were right or just not desiring to argue further. Done with one side, you swapped to the seat on the other side of him. With a clean, freshly wetted cotton ball, you gingerly began cleaning his other cheek. All things considered, Loki didn’t look too bad. At least, not as bad as he could have. With your freehand, you coaxed him to lift his chin up so you could tend to the lacerations on his neck.

“Why?” His voice was soft, just loud enough for only you to hear him.

“Why, what?” You copied his volume level.

“Why do you insist on this?”

You stopped your ministrations, raising your gaze to look him in the eye. His face was uncharacteristically soft as he looked back at you. Though he tried to hide it, his aventurine eyes held an unfamiliar vulnerability.

“Well,” you started slowly, carefully choosing your words. “You are a member of this team, and you should be treated as such.” Fingers still ghosting his chin, you guided him to face you. “You deserve the same treatment I would give everyone else.”

His brow furrowed as he studied you cautiously. It took him a moment before he finally spoke again. “Should that be what you wish to believe, it is fine by me.” You could hear the sharpness returning to his voice.

The god turned away, leaning back in his seat with closed eyes, effectively ignoring you. Now, you could have chosen to change seats, to move away from the cold attitude clearly directed at you, but you stayed. One, you were tired like everyone else and didn’t feel like getting up. Two, you were going to be stubborn and bug him with your presence.

Eventually a calm quiet enveloped the Quinjet, seeping into your bones. Feeling your eyes droop, you settled in your seat for as much comfort as you could get before drifting off.

You imagined hours had passed by the time you woke. Your muscles ached from the position you had fallen into, your neck being the worst. Tentatively rolling your shoulder, you tried to sit up and stretch only to find you couldn’t. Your head was resting you thought was the side of your seat, but there was a light weight keeping on top keeping you from moving. You opened your eyes to a shocking sight.

No, your sleeping position was a bit different from what you thought. Your makeshift pillow happened to be Loki’s shoulder. He, in turn, had his head on yours, probably having fallen asleep shortly after you. It seemed like he was still asleep, his chest rhythmically rising and falling in a way that could be described as soft. You could only imagine the tranquil expression on his face. There was absolutely no way you were going to look. You would probably move too much and wake him, and that would be the end of this little moment.

The rest of the team was asleep, save for Thor. Even with exhaustion drenching his body, he was wide awake, grinning like a madman when he realized you had caught him watching. How long had he bared witness to the scene unfolding? With a scowl, you pressed your finger to your lips, signaling him to keep quiet. He merely nodded, that knowing smile still plastered on his face.

The call you received from Maria shocked the lingering sleep from your body. A small team had been formed to infiltrate a hostage situation - a team that included Nat, Loki, Steve and another field medic whose name you hadn’t even had the chance to remember yet. The mission had soured once they reached the hostages. Everyone was being brought back to the compound for treatment. It was all hands on deck.

Quickly shucking your pajamas, you threw on a pair of scrubs and sneakers and made a mad dash to the Med Bay. The place was pure chaos. Most of the doctors and nurses were tending to the hostages in the main rooms. The team was near the back in separate rooms.

Spotting Maria who was attempting to direct people and bring some semblance of order to the wing, you rushed over to her. “Where do you need me?”

She flipped through the files on her data pad, not even looking up to see who she was speaking to. “Everyone has a medic taking care of them except for Steve and Loki. Start there.”

“Understood,” you nodded, leaving Maria to do what else was needed.

Down the hall, you took note of the injuries you could see of the various patients. Burns… Lots of burns… What in the world happened?

Passing by Nat’s room, she seemed mostly alright. She gave you a minute bob of her head that you reciprocated before meeting up with Steve. He had burns along one side of his body. Thankfully, the treatment would be minimal compared to some of the others.

“Hey,” he greeted you with a grimace as you began your work.

“How’re you feeling?”

He huffed out a tiny laugh, “Honestly, not terrible.”

With the top half of his suit tugged down, you gingerly cleaned and added ointment to soothe the wounds. “What happened out there?”

“One of the hostages… Well… He had an explosive… Saddled up to Trevor…”

Oh… The field medic… Oh god…

Steve sucked in a breath like he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs. “Loki tried to contain it, but… We were all a little late in reacting.”

Your hands stilled. “How bad is he?”

The super soldier plucked the salve container from your fingers. “He’ll live, but if you’re really that worried about him, I can handle the rest of this.”

“You know him.” You tried to snag the container back. “He’ll come up with any excuse to not let us help him. If he knows I left you here, he’ll insist I leave him alone.”

Steve held it away from you with his good arm like a kid holding its younger sibling’s toy out of reach. “I doubt he will do that this time,” he smiled reassuringly, a glint of knowing shining in his eyes.

Leaning on the bed, you heaved a sigh. “You’re gonna drag me in there if I refuse, aren’t you?”

“Yup,” he ended with a pop. “Now get going!” He shooed you away.

“Fine,” you groaned, playfully dramatic. “But you can bet I will be back later to make sure you did everything right.”

He let loose a chuckle. “I’d expect nothing less.”

Leaving Steve to his own devices, you went to the next room down the hall. The door was shut and the privacy blinds were closed. Was Loki hurt that badly that the others had to be hidden away?

With a quick announcing knock, you steeled yourself and pushed the door open, sliding in before silently closing it again. When you turned to face Loki, you were met with something you hadn’t quite expected to see. What burns still littered his skin looked as though they were mostly healed over, but that wasn’t the problem. With his armor off, you were able to get a good look at his arms and upper torso.

Blue. His skin was blue. Ridges meticulously adorned his arms, up his chest and even his face. It was such a stark contrast to his Asgardian form, yet it still suited him well. From unmarred, alabaster skin to decorated, indigo skin. Perfection in both forms.

“Loki?” you announced your presence as softly as possible.

His face scrunched as he squinted his eyes open to find you standing beside him. “Aren’t there others that need tending to?” The hoarseness of his voice betrayed the harshness he attempted to convey.

“We’ve enough staff to manage everyone well enough,” you shook your head with a smile.

Now that you were closer, you could see he was sweating profusely. His breaths were so shallow. Brushing away a locket of hair matted to his forehead, you found his skin warm… Much warmer than it should be. Instead of recoiling immediately, you laid your palm flush with his forehead. “You are burning up!”

You pulled away to pop outside the door. Waving down a nurse, you asked him to bring in as many ice packs as he could. What was currently stored in the room would not be enough. Returning, you pulled out all of the packs. You wrapped them in some towels so they wouldn’t directly touch his skin. Then, you placed them around Loki, hoping this would be enough until the nurse got back with you.

The god rested silently while you worked. It was only when you pulled up a chair next to him to keep an eye on his vitals that he finally spoke. “Why are you still here?” A sort of vulnerability leaked out of his voice.

“Because you need help,” you deadpanned, really not wanting this argument again.

“No.” His brow furrowed with frustration, ruby eyes staring at the ceiling. “Why haven’t you run yet?”

You brushed a little more of his tresses away from his face. “And why would I do that?”

“Are you blind? Do you not see the monstrosity before you?” He scowled, still refusing to look at you.

“No, I don’t.”

He barked out a laugh that he immediately regretted. “Then what, pray tell, do you see?”

Reaching across for his cheek, you guided him to face you, receiving little resistance. His skin was still hot but not quite as much as before. “I see a person who risked his own safety to protect a bunch of civilians. There’s no way you could be a monster even with your jötun form.”

“So, you do know what I am…” A deep frown etched across his face.

“Yes… If it makes you feel any better, only a select few know. I have to know the medical histories of all the Avengers if I’m to treat them in the field.”

Silence…

“And for what it’s worth, this,” your thumb graced the apple of his cheek, “is not scary in the slightest.”

His eyes searched yours frantically for any hint of dishonesty. A trembling hand raised and settled on yours, pressing it further on his face. His lips parted to speak but was interrupted by a light knock on the door.

With an apologetic smile, you slid your hand from his grasp. The nurse from before had returned with the ice packs. A quick “thank you” and you brought the tray in the room, shutting the door behind you. Just as you had before, you surrounded him with the new packs. Loki’s chest rose and fell more deeply as he cooled down even further, skin morphing into a pale sky blue and eyes returning to the bluish-green you’ve come to know.

“Well, you’re at least responding quickly. How do you feel?” You hovered at his bedside.

He locked eyes with you again, a cocktail of emotions swirling about despite his attempts to keep a straight face. “I-” he cleared his throat. “Better…”

“Good, good…” Your hands fiddled with the sheets. “Is there anything you need?”

Loki’s lips pursed, and he swallowed thickly. His digits brushed against yours, halting your nervous tick. “Stay?”

“Of course,” you breathed.

The corners of your mouth tugged upwards as you glided your fingers into his palm like two puzzle pieces meant to fit together, giving his hand a light squeeze. You pulled your seat closer and sat back down.

Just as you made yourself comfortable, Loki raised your hand to his face. His lips grazed over your knuckles as he whispered, “Thank you…”

“Anytime.” And you meant it. “I’ll stay for as long as you’ll have me.”

He let your entwined hands float back down to the bed as he chuckled. “If that’s the case, I do hope you are well prepared.”

“Oh, yeah?” You smirked. “And just how long do you plan on keeping me around?”

“For as long as you will have me.”

Little did either of you know, Thor had come to the Med Bay to check on Loki after he heard the news and was listening to the conversation through the closed door. He decided to leave you be for now. The congratulations and light teasing could wait until tomorrow.

Tag List: @nahthanks​

[reidsmemory]

Daycare

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Y/N is a high school teacher and Hotch’s niece. She meets the BAU one morning and feels a connection with one of the agents. A few weeks later she is involved in a kidnapping and has to get her students to safety. 

Genre: Action with some fluff

Quinn Speaks: Okay so I kinda got off track here and it’s more of a bad ass reader fic but I wrote the bulk of this at like 2 am. I hope you all enjoy and let me know if you want a part 2!!

not my gif!

     Your day started at 3 am. That’s right, 3 am. The buzzing noise of your phone woke you out of your slumber as you picked up the device and brought it up to your face, the blinding white light made your eyes adjust immediately. Uncle Aaron was listed as the caller ID and a picture of him, Jack, and yourself was also shown on the screen. 

     “Hello?” you said in your best ‘you totally didn’t wake me’ voice which really ended up being your ‘I’ve been dead for 5 years and been just revived’ voice instead.

     “Y/N, I’m really sorry, but I need you to come in to BAU. We just caught a case and I can’t a sitter for Jack so he’s here with me and-” the man would have kept rambling about the situation if you hadn’t cut him off.

     “No problem, Uncle Aaron. I’ll be there in 25 minutes.” You threw off your covers and began to walk over to your bathroom. 

     “You’re a lifesaver, thanks Y/N.” You hummed and he promptly hung up the call. You flipped on the light switch and saw that you had indeed looked like you had been dead for 5 years. You sighed and got to work. 

     You usually babysat Jack when Aaron was out of town for a case and your flat had become a second home for Jack. It wasn’t like that hadn’t happened before, him calling you about a case and needing you to watch Jack, no of course not. But he would usually call you a couple hours in advance or it would be during hours of the day when you were actually awake and running around. 

     You finished getting your hair to look quite decent all things considered and your teeth brushed and your face was washed. You decide to just throw a cardigan over your tank top and shorts and you made your way to the front door, grabbing your keys, phone, and some snacks for Jack as well as slipping on your strappy, tan sandals. 

     You locked your door and walked to the elevator on your floor and pressed the parking garage button. The elevator hummed as it went down and you yawned, stretching a bit as well.

     The doors dinged open and you made your way to your car and started to drive off. To keep your eyes awake, you played a classic rock station that was full of guitar solos and drum bangs that would surely keep you up. You pulled into a little drive through and got some coffees for yourself, your uncle, and his team as well as a hot chocolate for Jack.

     “25.96 is your total,” the cashier at the window said as you handed her your card. She was still ringing it up as she turned to you, “so, what’s got you up at 3 am and grabbing a shit load of coffee?”

     You chuckled lightly at her words, “babysitting emergency.” 

     She gave you a grin and handing you your card. “Well, good luck,” she said while handing you the holder for all the drinks as well as the drinks themselves. 

     “Thank you, have a good morning,” you said with a light smile.

     “Ditto.” She closed the windows and smiled as you drove off, you still had about 10 minutes to get to the BAU. Traffic was light which worked in your favor as well as living pretty close to the building. 

     You parked and started to get out with the coffees as you made your way to the entrance. You stepped inside as the security guards scanned you and checked the drinks and you were finally able to make your way up to the designated floor with a visitor pass.

     A woman with black hair came into elevator as well and you both exchanged good mornings and a light smiles. She was no doubt judging the outfit you were wearing, wondering where in the federal government you work that allowed you to come into work wearing your a sleep top and shorts as well as a big cardigan. 

     You both stepped out on the same floor and you made your way through the bullpen and straight to your uncle’s office.

     Emily watched you walk off and she furrowed her eyebrows, she had never seen you at the BAU before and now you were walking into her boss’ office with coffees and in your pj’s. “Do you know who that is?” she asked Spencer as he looked up from some paper work.

     “Who?” he asked as Emily discreetly pointed in your direction. Spencer furrowed his brows as he had never seen you before. He watched you walk up the small amount of stairs to Hotch’s office and noticed that you also had a visitor pass in you hand as well a some coffees. 

     “Spencer?” Emily said as he continued to watch you. “Reid!” she snapped in front of his face as he finally brought his attention back to Emily. He looked at her and quickly stole glances at you when he though she wasn’t watching. 

     She noticed. 

     Emily grinned at the younger man as he turned his attention back to Emily and blushed lightly, deciding to return to the papers in front of him, but not without sneaking another glance at you. 

     Your uncle opened the door and ushered you into his office where Jack was sleeping on the couch. “Thank you for coming,” his voice was quiet and you just smiled as he brought you into a hug. 

     “I got coffees for you and your team; needed one myself and figured you guys would want some too,” you whispered as Hotch smiled lightly and took the carrier from you. “So what happened?”

     “Missing child in Louisiana. He was over at a friends for a sleepover and was nabbed about an hour ago.” You nodded and frowned a bit as did your uncle.

     “Well, good thing they’ve got the best on the job,” you tried to lighten the mood as he held a closed lipped smile. “Don’t worry about us, we’ll be fine.” 

     He nodded his head and grabbed some files from his desk and headed to the door of his office. You smiled at him as he said his goodbyes to Jack, waking him. 

     Hotch closed the door and was met by the stares of his team, “we’ll have to brief on the plane. There’s been a missing child report in Louisiana so wheels up in 10.” The team nodded and started to pack up and get ready. “My niece got us all fresh coffee as well,” he walked down the stairs and put the tray on an empty table. 

     “Y/N’s here?” Morgan asked as Hotch nodded. “She is a lifesaver.”

     “My words exactly,” he said and walked away as the team went to grab the drinks. 

     You put Jack on your hip and started to walk out of the office. You closed the door and turned around as you were greeted by the warm smile of Derek Morgan.

     “Morning, Hotcakes,” he teased as you smiled widely. You walked down the stairs as he pulled you into a side hug seeing as Jack was clinging to your other side. You both pulled away as he started up again, “thanks for the drinks.”

     “Course, I figured you guys would be as tired as me,” you said nonchalantly as he nodded. You saw the other pairs of eyes on you and quickly introduced yourself, “sorry, i’m Y/N. Aaron’s niece.”

     They nodded at your words as Rossi made his way over to you. “Nice to see you again, Kiddo,” he hugged you the same way Morgan had and you smiled at the older man. 

     “Jennifer Jareau, but I go by JJ,” she stuck out her hand as you smiled at her and shook it. 

     “Emily Prentiss.” The raven haired woman did the same as JJ as she shook you hand and smiled.

     “Uh, Spencer Reid,” the taller brunette man told you as you shot him a small smile seeing as he didn’t offer a handshake. “I wasn’t aware that Hotch had a niece,” he said.

     “Oh, yeah. I moved out here a few months ago for Hotch and Jack,” you told them.

     “Where do you work?” JJ asked.

     “I’m a teacher at Philip Moore High School.”

     “Yeah, Miss. Y/N is the best history teacher,” Derek teased a you rolled your eyes with a small smile on your face. 

     “Alright, I better get out of your guys’ hair and get this little one out of here,” you told them as they nodded. “Good luck with the case.” You smiled at them and gave Morgan on last side hug before you were walking through the bullpen and towards the elevator. 

     Spencer watched as you went and felt a clap on his back from Derek. He whipped around and saw the older man smiling. “Somebody got a crush on the teacher?” he singsonged as Spencer’s cheeks flamed pink. 

     “From the minute I pointed her out to him,” Emily recalled as she chuckled a it, “the chatty doctor turns into a gaping teenage boy.” Spencer heard JJ snicker as he felt his cheeks heat up even further. 

     The door of the BAU opened as they all whipped around and saw Hotch standing with his go bag and some files, “lets go.”

***

     It was a few weeks later and the case had gone great from what your uncle told you. They had found the kid and caught the creep who took him within the 24 hour rule they set up. 

     You stood by a yellow school bus and held a roster of names in your hand. “Alright!” you yelled out as mostly all the kids quieted down. “I’m gonna let everyone sit where they want as long as the volume doesn’t get too loud, yeah?”

     There was a mix of yes’ and okay’s in the crowd of 25 or so sophomores. Today you were taking a trip to the nations capital, a tradition for this school. The kids would go see a historical museum and take a tour of the White House, then you all would eat lunch downtown and then the kids go to vote on whether they wanted to go to another museum or go see a historical show. 

     “Lets get going then.” The kids filed onto the bus as you marked the names to the faces. Your co-worker was standing next to you and handing kids their badges and name tags. 

     Once everyone was on the bus, you turned to the slightly older man. “Ready to go?” he asked you as you nodded. Both of you climbed on the bus and the kids quieted down as Mr. Greene opened his mouth, “Alright you all know the drill, no wondering off, no yelling or running, and stick with your partners!” 

     They all nodded and said a variation of yes.

     “I can take the middle if you want the front,” you told him as he nodded and you headed towards one of the benches you had put your bag on. A mix of girls and boys were around it and you were glad that you were on the younger side so that you could somewhat understand what they were talking about. 

     “Miss. Hotchner!” a boy called as you turned to face him. “Do you have any games for the ride?” This got the attention of the kids around you. 

     “Sure,” you started, trying to think of something to keep the teen engaged and interested. “Whoever can spot a red car with the letter q in the licences plate will get ice cream for them and their seat partner. Same thing goes for blue cars with a y.” The kids nodded and started conversing strategies on how they would do this. 

     You knew it was silly, but you would’ve loved if a teacher did this during your school trips. The bus started moving and you were soon pulling away from the school. 

***

     JJ walked into Hotch’s office, “We’ve got a case and need to go now.” He put down his pen and and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. 

     “Fill me in,” he said to JJ as he motioned for the rest of the team to get up. 

     “A bus full of high schoolers on their way to a field trip in DC. They never checked in to their morning tour or any other events. Parents can’t get a hold of kids and faculty can’t get in touch with the teachers on the trip.”

     “So it’s local. How long ago did the high school contact us?” he asked.

     “Not even 15 minutes ago,” JJ told him as he nodded. 

     “Let’s take the SUVs and set up at the high school,” he told the team as the nodded and grabbed their things and headed for the doors. They sped to the cars and split up; Hotch, Reid, JJ, and Morgan in one while Rossi, Emily, and Penelope were in the other. 

     “Alright,” JJ set up her phone so it was on speaker and connected to the other car. “26 kids and 2 teachers along with a bus driver were heading out for an annual field trip the school does for sophomores. No one on the bus has been able to be contacted and were supposed to be back at the school 45 minutes ago.”

     “What time did they take off?” Morgan asked.

     “7:15 am and their first activity was at 9:50 am which they never checked in for according to the museum,” JJ explained. 

     “Garcia,” Hotch started, “can you pull up the bus GPS?” 

     “On it, Sir!” she replied. They kept driving to the school and were within 7 minutes of the destination seeing as they had sped all the way there. The team talked more as Garcia was pulling stuff up. Hotch pulled into the school and payed no attention to the sign as they did so. 

     They hopped out of the car and were met with the principal who had a grief stricken face. “Thank you so much for coming,” he spoke, “James Randalf, I’ll take you guys to the room we’re set up in.”

     “SSA Aaron Hotchner,” he said as he stuck out his hand. The man shook it but held a weird look on his face. “What is it?” Hotch asked.

     “You said Hotchner?” he asked as Aaron nodded, “Any relation to Y/N Hotchner?”

     “Yes, she’s my niece. This is Philip Moore High School?” The principal nodded as they walked through the hallway. He opened to door for the team swiftly as he stepped in. 

     “She’s one of the teacher’s that was on the bus.” Hotch paled at the man’s words as the rest of the team did a double take. Spencer had been to immersed in the case file and hadn’t seen the name of the high school as they pulled up or he would’ve at least connected the dots a bit faster. 

     “Get started,” Hotch said as he pulled out his phone rung your number up. The phone stayed ringing and no one picked up as Aaron cursed under his breath. “Garcia I need you to get the GPS of this number,” Hotch read your number and thought to himself that you always kept your GPS on and he urged you to do it one day as you took Jack.

     “Just in case anything happens, alright?”

     “Nothing will happen to us, but okay,” you said with as smile as Jack giggled in your arms.

     “Got the location, Sir,” Garcia said as Hotch snapped out of the trance he was in. 

     “Call for a SWAT car. Morgan, Emily, Reid, Rossi lets go,” Hotch ordered as they all nodded and followed the man out of the building, all hoping to find you and the kids.

***

     “Everyone just stay calm!” the man yelled as he entered the bus with another man behind him. The bus driver reached for his walkie-talkie and the second man shot him right in his forehead. The kids around you were whimpering and crying as you tried to be discreet about your movements.

     You grabbed the pepper spray from you bag and put it down your bra as well as taking your small pocket knife and putting it in your shoe. Students looked to you as you held up a finger to your mouth and nodded at them, gesturing for them to listen and stay quiet.

     “We don’t want to hurt anyone else,” the first man started, “we just want everyone to stay calm and stay quiet. We won’t kill you.”

     “Phones now,” the second said as he came around with a sack as kids put their phones in. You kept your head down and did the same, he didn’t seem to realize you were a teacher. He walked back up the aisle and pointed his gun at Mr. Greene. “Red, up,” he said referring to the color of the man’s shirt. He instructed Greene to move the bus driver out of his seat and onto the side of the road. Once he was finished he stood back up and both men stepped outside and shot him as well as dumping the phones.

     You took this opportunity to turn to the kids next to you. “Only call me by my first name, Y/N,” you told them as they nodded, “pass it on.” They whispered to each other and you were pretty sure that all the students knew what to do now.

     They stepped back on the bus and one of the men got into the driver’s seat while the other stepped to the aisle at the front of the bus. “Everyone is gonna quiet up. You all are a special bunch, parents in high position, rich, and willing to do whatever they can to get back their precious children.” The other man laughed as he started up the bus. “If I see anyone trying to communicate with the outside I will not hesitate to blow your head off. No talking and we wont have a problem.”

     He sat where Mr.Greene did as the other man started to drive off. Some kids kept their heads down and others near you looked to you. You signaled that everything was going to be okay and that you would kept them safe. 

     There had to be a way to warn you uncle where you were going. 

***

     At the sight, the team found two bodies and all of the cellphones. Hotch cursed silently as did the rest of the team. Spencer walked up and down the road as something had caught his eye. He picked up a folded piece of paper and opened it carefully. 

     “Do you have something, Kid?” Morgan asked as he nodded and walked over to the agents. 

     He unfolded the note and showed them as Hotch spoke up, “that’s Y/N’s handwriting.”

     2 men, White. 5���11 & 5′9. 190 and 170 lb. Aggressive and passive. Friends.

     The note had the team smiling as you had been able to give a clue of what they had to look for. “Definitely a Hotchner,” Rossi joked as Aaron smiled lightly at the man’s words. 

     “Lets get this back to Garcia, see if she can get a match.” The team nodded at their section leader’s words. 

     Spencer held the note in his hand and smiled to himself, he had only met you once, but you were proving to be very resourceful as well smart. This made his small crush grow into a full blown one and now he just had to get you back.

***

     They had taken you all to an abandoned barn about 3 hour drive at top speed. They tied you all up and made you all sit as they quickly made their way to a van that was parked in the barn. They had taken the boys to another location and left the the girls in the barn.

     As soon as you heard the car pull away you looked around for any cameras and saw that their were none. Girls whispered to each other as you soon gained their attention, “everyone listen up,” their eyes where on you. “We are going to get out of here alright?” They nodded as you quickly assessed the situation. 

     “What are you going to do, Miss. Hotchner?” one of the girls asked.

     “Get out of these.” You took the pocket knife from your shoe and switched it open. “Here,” you said handing it to one of the girls, “cut these open.” She nodded and did as you told her. Soon the zip ties where off your hands and you took the knife back from her and cut the zip ties around your feet. 

     You quickly did the same to the rest of the girl as you were all free now. “We move together. If they come back I’ll hold them off and the rest of you run and get help. Get my uncle, his name is Aaron Hotchner and he works for the FBI. Take this,” you grabbed the pepper spray and handed it to one of the girls, “use it if you have a good shot and pick up anything you can defend yourself with.”

     They nodded and you lead the way out of the barn. The van was no where in sight and you were good to go. You started going a different path than the main road in as to avoid the men. 

     You were able to walk with the girls for a good couple hours as you soon saw a gas station. You walked in with the girls and told the man behind the counter your predicament, he was about to dial the police as the door opened and a man walked in. One of the men who kidnapped you all. 

     He shot the man behind the counter and the girls froze. “Thought you could get away that easy?” he said as you gripped the knife in you hand behind your back. He came closer and pointed the gun at you all. “Lets go!” he yelled as some of the girls flinched. He got closer as you were able to tackle him the the ground. 

     His gun went off and slid to the side as the girl watched you and him fight.  You were able to flip him on his stomach and grab the keys out of his pocket. You threw them at the girls direction and yelled, “go! Like we talked about! Get to a big city and don’t stop!” He manged to flip you over and push you to the ground as you gritted you teeth and saw the girls run out of the shop and to the van. 

     You kneed him in the sweet spot as he crumbled above you and you got up on your feet and went to the gun but were tackled to the ground as your face slammed down. He turned you over and held down your hands as he delivered a punch to your face.

     This went on for a while; you and him struggling and giving each other bruises that would hurt for days. You were finally able to knock him out, by slamming his head against the hard floor. 

     You stood up and took the gun and knife as you were able to make your way out of the store and to the little car sitting outside. You broke the passengers side window and unlocked the car and made your way over to the drivers side to hot wire the car. You fumbled with wires and finally got the car to start as you heard a chime from the store entrance. The man was coming out as you pulled out as he tried to chase you as you stuck the gun out your window and were able to hit him in the leg as he fell to the ground. All those times training with your uncle had finally paid off. 

     You knew it was stupid, but you couldn’t help but go back to the direction of the barn. You hadn’t seen any structures where they could’ve keep the boys and you had to get them to safety. You had promised them. 

***

     A white van pulled up to the front of the school about 2 hours after the BAU had gotten there. The girls filed out and made their way inside the building as they saw the cars parked out in front and figured their would be someone there. The doors were open and they walked in and were met with shocked faces of the staff. 

     The staff got the agents as they made their way to the front of the school. Aaron watched as the girls look around clearly nervous and distraught. “We need to conduct interviews now.” The team nodded as they each took one of the girls into a classroom. JJ gathered all the parents with daughters and told them the good news. 

     Spencer and Aaron sat with one of the girls. “Start at the beginning.”

     The girl told them about the barn and how you had gotten them out and then the walk to the gas station and how you had fought with the man as you told them to go and get help. “Do any of you know Aaron Hotchner? Miss. Hotchner told us to get him and he would know what to do.”

     “That would be me,” Aaron spoke as she nodded. 

     “She saved us and I feel so bad for just leaving her there, with that man,” she shuddered at the thought. “Do you think he killed her?” she whispered to them as both Spencer and Hotch paled at the thought.

     “I don’t think so,” Spencer spoke honestly, “Miss. Hotchner is very resourceful and you said she had the upper hand, right?” The girl nodded as Spencer smiled. “I’m sure she’s fine and you did just what she told you. You don’t have to feel guilty.” 

     She left the room and was soon reunited with her parents. 

     “We need to get to the gas station,” Hotch said as Spencer nodded. “Half of us will go there and the other half to the barn. We can have Garcia see if the car had GPS and if she can retrace where it’s been.”

     The team regrouped and Garcia was able to get 3 locations in the vicinity. They split up accordingly and headed out to the locations.

***

     You had scoped out a small building. It had no cars in front of it and was the the closest building to the barn you had been in earlier. You knew you could either go in guns a-blazing, but the man inside would have the kids as leverage and you knew you had to take him out as soon as possible or at least injure him. 

     You held the gun in your hand and quickly made your way to the building as you looked into one of the windows and saw the boys all tied up and the man sitting with as concerned look on his face. You devised your plan and figured it would be easier to lure him out. You walked back to the car and put pressure on the horn as it continued to make noise as the heavy stick pressing against it held.

     The man came out as you hid behind a tree and waited for him to have his back to you. Once this happened you fired your gun and hit him in the back of his leg. He dropped to the ground and his gun went forward. You ran over and picked it up as he cried out and started cussing at you. 

     “You stupid bitch! You’re gonna pay for this!” he screamed.

     “Sure, buddy,” you said in an amused voice. You put the guns down as you turned him on his back and took the branch for the car and hit his jaw with it as he passed out. You put it down and checked his pulse, still alive. You opened up the trunk of the car and held him in an army carry as you put him in the small space as you closed and locked the trunk. You jogged over to the building and opened the door to see around 17 teenage boys looking at you with more fear than you had ever seen. 

     “Miss. Hotchner!” one said as you smiled and got out your knife and began getting the zip-ties off of them. 

     “Is everyone okay? Anyone hurt?” They all said no to your question as nodded and finished getting everyone free.

     “What happened to the girls?” one boy asked. 

     “They are hopefully with my uncle and making sure someone comes for us soon,” you told them as they nodded. “You’ll all get the full story when we get out of here, okay?” 

     You lead them out of the small building and told them to stay there. They did as told as you brought the car over and made sure to keep an eye on the man inside if he did manage to escape. 

     After waiting for a hour or so in the dark, a black SUV pulled up along with a swat car. 

     “Everyone put you hands up, it’s alright,” you told them as you placed down the gun and knife and put you hands above your head. The boys followed in suit and you soon saw your uncle get out of the car.

     “Guns down! It’s just the kids!” he made his way over to you as you hugged him tightly. You groaned lightly as he pulled away. “Are you alright?” You nodded and gestured towards the kids as your uncle understood. 

     Spencer came over to you as smiled lightly at him. Your face was littered with cuts and bruises and even a bit of blood that was dried on your face. “Hey, Spencer,” you said as he smiled lightly. “There’s one of the douche bags in the trunk.” You pointed as he nodded at you words.

     “Can I get some cuffs and a guy over here!” he yelled out as he made his way over to the trunk. A SWAT guy had his gun up as you unlocked the trunk and the man tumbled out. 

     He immediately started yelling, “where is that bitch!” he lunged at you from the ground as the SWAT cuffed him and brought him into custody. You closed the trunk and swiftly sat atop it. You winced slightly as Spencer was quick to come by your side. 

     “You’re hurt,” he said frowning as you nodded at his word. 

     “Got thrown around a bit,” you joked. He quickly went over to the SUV and got back to you as he was now holding a first-aid kit. He set it down on the trunk and quickly got to work on your face. 

     You cuts had stopped bleeding by now, but they were still open and Spencer delicately wiped them down and placed a few bandages on your face. You swore he was blushing, but it was too hard to tell in the dark. 

     He finished cleaning up your face and Hotch quickly thanked him. You got into the stolen car as 3 of the boys got in with you as well as Spencer and he started to drive off to the school.

***

     Spencer pulled up to the school as you all got out of the car. Parents were waiting outside the car and the boys rushed to them as they all let out cries. You smiled at the sight and had also asked Spencer about the fate of the girls earlier and were grateful for that as well. You made your way over to a paramedic and she checked you out and quickly realized that you had in fact a minor dislocated your shoulder. 

     “Seriously?” you asked as she nodded.

     “It was probably the adrenaline that allowed you body to over look it. That with the other bruises all over your body, your mind probably thought it was just one of those,” she explained. “I’ll have to pop it back in place.” You grimaced and nodded as she made her way over to your side. 

     Hotch was by your side as you stuck out your hand and he took it. Some of the students were watching, worried for you. 

     “Big breath in,” she told you as you followed her instructions and she quickly popped it back into place. You shoulder cracked loudly and you yelped a bit and turned some heads. “Alright, you’ll have to treat it with care and it might swell, but you are good to go Miss. Hotchner.”

     “Thank you,” you told her with a light smile and you hopped of the back of the ambulance. Your uncle rubbed you back as you looked to him. “How’s Jack?” you asked as he smiled at your question. 

     “He’s fine. Will, JJ’s husband, is watching him.” You nodded at his response and made your way to the school as he still had to pack up some stuff. “I’m driving you home and don’t even think about coming into work tomorrow.” You laughed as he smiled at you. 

     “Miss. Hotchner!” Your name was called you looked to your uncle and quickly departed to got talk to the families. 

     “Is everything alright?” you asked the father as he nodded. 

     “We,” he gestured towards all the parents, “wanted to thank you for saving our kids and keeping them safe.” A few mothers and fathers were crying and kids were smiling at you lightly.

     “Of course, i’m just glad that everyone is okay,” you told them truthfully. A girl came up to you and hugged you tightly as more kids came up and eventually the whole class was in a big group hug as some of them cried a bit, you surely teared up. They pulled away when your uncle came out and you bid the adieu and goodnight as you made your way over to Hotch. 

     “Ready?” he asked as you walked to your car. 

     You bit your lip. “One moment.” You made your way over to the young doctor and tapped him on the shoulder as he whipped around.  “Spencer,” you spoke softly as he looked at you and paused on working on your face. “Would you want to get dinner on Friday?”

     Spencer looked at you with wide eyes and couldn’t help but smile widely at your question.         

     “It’s just, I almost died a few time today and I don’t want to do anything that  would regret, which would include not asking you out. I know it’s bad timing and it’s totally fine if you don’t want to and-”

     You would’ve kept rambling, but Spencer cut you off, “I would love to have dinner on Friday with you.” You smiled at the man as he smiled back and now you were sure of the blush on his cheeks. 

     “Cool, um, do you have a pen?” you asked as he nodded and fumbled to get a pen from his bag. You smiled at him and took his palm as you wrote out your phone number and handed it back to him. “See you on Friday.” You smiled brightly as he nodded. You pecked his cheek and turned around quickly and was met with a surprised look on your uncles’ face.

     Spencer blushed brightly and brought a hand up to his face to check if that had actually happened. Derek came up behind him and smiled widely as he clapped him on the back. 

     “Finally got the girl! Good job man!” Derek told him as he smiled widely and was met with happy smiles from the rest of the team.

     “Dinner on Friday!” he gushed as they cheered and clapped a bit. All happy that the man had gotten some good new for once. 

      Dinner on Friday.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 14 - Sinking Deeper [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤ 

Ps: Special thanks to Bea for helping me!

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking.

Word Count: 4180

Summary: Not every night is for sleeping.

All things considered, you were sure that you were supposed to be more stressed out than you were right now. The FBI still had nothing on the copycat killer that had sent you flowers, or any of the others that were running wild all over the country. BAU was working nonstop because there was more and more pressure coming from the supervisors and higher ups, and Spencer had told you something about the profile evolving but hadn’t gotten into details.

Not that you would ever ask him to, what you heard was more than enough.

Despite all that, whenever you were with him, you managed to feel almost…peaceful. It was so unfamiliar to you that it had taken you a moment to acknowledge what it was.

Happiness. Pure happiness, enough to get rid of the mind-numbing panic and worries about the future.

Or, as your sister had so eloquently put it, you were so, so screwed.

You took a sip of your mimosa, texting Spencer under the table, barely aware of the conversation taking place but you had to look up when you heard your name being called.

“Would you want to, Y/N?” your mother asked and you frowned.

“Hm?” you asked, your eyes stopping on Lily playing with her dolls by the corner of the huge living room before you looked at Mina and Kenzie, “Sorry, what were we talking about?”

“There’s this opera—“

“Nope,” you shook your head fervently, “No way. It’s Mina’s turn.”

Mina let out a whine, “I hate you so much right now.”

“She has a point,” your mother pointed at Mina, “Your sister was the one who came to the charity ball, you can come to this one.”

Mina heaved a sigh while Kenzie reached out to hold her hand.

“Babe come on, it could be fun.”

“Exactly!” your mother said, “Thank you, Kenzie. Besides, Nolan is coming as well, so we will be two couples there. Y/N, of course if you want you can bring Spencer—“

“I’m not exaggerating when I say I’d rather spend an hour in my serial killer father’s cell with Spencer.”

Your mother rolled her eyes and Mina tilted her head.

“Nolan Yates is coming too?” she asked, pinching the bridge of her nose, “I’m spending a whole night with the boss of my boss?”

“You two should get to know each other!” Your mother said, “Besides, there’s no harm in telling your bosses that you should become a partner already—“

“Mom,” Mina cut her off, “We talked about this. I will earn that position by myself, not because of anyone’s influence. Including yours.”

Your mother sipped her drink, “It’s as if you like struggling, Mina.”

Kenzie looked between them and smiled brightly, trying to diffuse the situation. “I’m actually pretty curious about him,” she said, “Since you’re a couple now, I just need to see what kind of a person he is.”

“There’s nothing to see, babe.” Mina murmured, “The guy looks like he spends millions alone on his beard care and wears bowties to bed.”

“Yeah but bowties are cool,” you grinned and a silence fell upon the table.

“I will get back to you sleeping with my boss’ boss in a minute mom but—“ Mina cleared her throat and turned to you, “I’m sorry, was that a Doctor Who reference?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I started watching it because Spencer likes it so much. It’s actually pretty fun, he said we could go to Sonic-Con next year if I want.”

“Comic-Con.” Kenzie corrected you helpfully and Mina blinked a couple of times.

“Jesus Christ.”

“I don’t get it,” Kenzie said, “I told you to watch it with me and you said, and I quote It has like one billion episodes Kenz, I don’t have time for that.”

Mina stole a look at Lily to make sure she couldn’t hear you before she turned to Kenzie, “Yeah, the difference is that you weren’t dicking her down.”

“Nobody is dicking me down!” you whispered, and your mother gasped, putting her mimosa glass down.

“Girls, not at the breakfast table!” she insisted, “Not that this kind of language is acceptable anywhere…”

“Yeah Mina, leave her alone,” Kenzie said, “I think it’s sweet.”

“What’s next? You will want to get a doctorate as well because he likes them so much?”

“That wouldn’t be so bad,” your mother mused out loud, “Y/N, I know the lovely dean of—“

“No!” you pointed at them, “No to both of you. And thank you Kenzie.”

Before your mother could say anything, Lily ran to you to climb into your lap.

“Hi there bug.”

“Can we play after brunch?” she looked up at you, making you smile at her before you pinched her chubby cheek, making her giggle.

“Of course,” you said, “Dibs on green unicorn.”

“I like pink better,” she nicked a piece of cheese from your plate, “Are you talking about your prince?”

Mina smiled into her glass, “Something like that sweetheart.”

“Lily, why don’t you ask auntie what you asked me the other day?” Kenzie told her and Lily nodded fervently.

“Can I wear pink on your wedding?”

“Whoa-“ you cleared your throat, “Lily, baby, there’s no wedding.”

Kenzie and your mother grinned at each other and turned to you and Lily but she looked as if she was confused.

“But if he’s your prince…” she trailed off and Kenzie cleared her throat.

“I would like to come up with a tamer version of that question,” she said, “When do we get to meet him?”

“Mom and Mina already have,” you said but your mother shook her head.

“That doesn’t count.”

“Because you treated him like you were going to hire him?”

“Oh you did the same to him as well?” Kenzie asked your mother, “I thought Mina would have a heart attack when you did that to me.”

“I honestly thought you would break up with me after that.”

You fixed the huge bow on top of Lily’s hair while she sat still in your lap, listening to the conversation.

“How about dinner?” your mother said, “It’d help us to get to know him better.”

“Nope,” you shook your head, “It’s too early.”

“Oh come on Y/N!”

“I will introduce him to you guys when I’m sure you can behave.”

“He has spent hours with dad, you do realize that?” Mina asked with a small laugh, “You think he behaves? The guy is a—“

“Mina.” Kenzie nodded at Lily and Mina stopped herself immediately but Lily had already heard it.

“I thought your dad was a bad man, mommy.”

“He is, baby,” she nodded, “That’s why he’s far away, remember?”

“Then why is auntie Y/N’s prince talking to him?”

“Because he catches bad people, bug.”

Lily gasped and looked up at you, her eyes shining with excitement, “Like a superhero?!”

“Mm hm, like a superhero,” you grinned at her and she fidgeted in your lap.

“When will I meet him?”

“Yeah Y/N, when will we meet him?” Kenzie batted her lashes and you pointed at her.

“That’s evil, you know that right?” you asked, ignoring Mina’s laughter, “Low blow.”

                                                 ***

Towards the evening, right before it was time to meet Spencer he had texted you, saying that they would be doing overtime at work. You were bummed, but you still texted back to tell him it was alright, that you would be going home and he could drop by whenever he was done.

After having dinner, you went to the couch with a bottle of wine and turned your laptop on to take a look at the files your assistant had sent you. Campbell wedding was almost done, Vincent had sent you a couple of new ideas to add into the theme, and you had to email back two pastry shops to confirm the wedding cake orders.

You were so lost in work that you had barely realized downing the half of the bottle and it was only when your phone started buzzing on the coffee table that you looked away from the screen of the laptop.

“Hi Lincoln,” you answered the phone, still typing your replies to your assistant and he took a deep breath.

“Hey,” he said, “Are you watching it?”

“Watching what?”

“TV. They’re talking about the copycat killers.”

“What?” you grabbed the remote to turn on the TV and of course, the first TV channel you found was already covering the story.

“The FBI has confirmed that the body that was found dead earlier today belonged to one of the copycat killers that has been—“

“What the fuck?” you murmured, keeping your eyes on the screen and he cleared his throat.

“Yeah,” he said, “I know it’s creepy but I mean…I don’t know, isn’t that a good thing?”

“Someone killed one of the copycat killers?” you asked, “That makes no sense at all.”

“Do you think it’s the same one?” he asked, “From the charity ball?”

“I don’t know,” you muttered, “Jesus Christ.”

“Are you okay?” he asked, “I didn’t know if I should call, but…”

“No no, I’m glad you did.” You muted the TV, then filled your glass again, “What’re you doing?”

“Just leaving work,” he said and you raised your brows.

“Linc, it’s eleven p.m.”

“I had to attend a meeting overseas.”

“Workaholic.”

“I prefer the term hard working,” he chuckled, “How about you? You weren’t sleeping, right?”

“Nah, I was waiting for my boyfriend,” you said, making him pause for a moment, “And checking client files. And drinking.”

“You’re lucky you can deal with your job while drinking, these sharks would pounce on me if they ever saw me like that.”

You took a look at the TV and typed in the copycat killer’s name into the search bar, sipping your wine.

“You’re being safe, right?” he asked you, “I haven’t heard from you for like a week or so, you’re alright?”

You pressed your lips together, trying to decide whether to tell him about the flowers or not, but in the end you decided not to.

“Family drama,” you said, “I’ve been running everywhere, and what with work and everything…Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be silly,” he chuckled, “Just wanted to make sure you were alright, that’s all.”

“I’m alright—“ you started but then looked over your shoulder when you heard the doorbell ring, “Gotta go. I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Sure thing, see you,” he said and hung up, so you jumped over the couch to rush to the door before you opened it to see Spencer standing there.

“Hey,” you smiled at him, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him, “Long day?”

He nodded silently and wrapped his arms around you, pressing you closer to inhale your scent.

“Hi,” he muttered into your hair, “Yeah. Long day.”

“I have wine?” you said as you pulled back, and closed the door after he stepped in, “I also have a bathtub even you could lose yourself in.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry,” he said and hesitated for a moment, “On second thought, do you have coffee?”

“Are you sure you want to drink coffee at eleven at night?”

“I still have some reports to go over,” he said, stepping into the living room while you put the coffee on and his eyes stopped on the huge screen that was still giving details about the copycat killer.

“You saw that huh?”

“Mm hm,” you watched him as he dropped his satchel and you went to sit down next to him on the couch. “I was checking the other news. That’s why you had to work overtime?”

He rubbed at his eyes and ran a hand through his fluffy hair as if it would help, “We thought the profile was changing but this whole thing just proves someone is trying to keep it stable.”

You pulled your brows together, “What?”

“The victimology didn’t match with the last two victims, and now one of the copycats ended up dead, probably the one who went rogue.”

“How did it not match?” you blinked a couple of times, “They all left a flower in the crime scene, no?”

“Well yeah, but the rest—“ he stopped for a moment, staring at you, “You never actually checked his victimology?”

“I never watched any of those interviews he gave after he was imprisoned, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Yeah, and those interviews are the reason why we still don’t have a specific suspect because everyone knows everything about him, and most of your family life,” he heaved a sigh, “But you know what his victims had in common?”

“They all bled out while he watched,” you crossed your arms, leaning back to the arm of the couch, “I know that. He liked watching that.”

“Your father never killed anyone outside his social circle,” he reminded you, “They were all wealthy and overly successful people, remember? That’s why it took FBI so long to find him, because the previous profile was wrong. They thought it was someone who didn’t have access to the same resources, the same wealth and status, and it was for revenge.”

“Yeah but Spencer, he killed those people because he is evil.”

“He killed those people because in his mind, he was creating this…perfect business environment. Most of the people who got murdered were either failing business people or people who failed to meet his expectations. He was very successful, he expected the same from everyone. That’s his victimology. The flowers on the crime scene, they were just his signature. Well, his signature and his small offering to you.”

You thought for a moment, then went to the kitchen to pour him a cup of coffee before walking back to the couch.

“I still think this is a bad idea professor,” you muttered as you gave him the cup and he smiled at you, then took a sip while you lit up a cigarette.

“So then,” you crossed your legs, “His victims were the cream of society and that means something? Other than the fact that he was a psychopath?”

“That means a lot of things,” he said, “So far, most of the victims had a higher status in society, it means that the copycats actually wanted to continue his legacy from where he left off. Maybe not the people who disappointed them per se, but until these last two victims, they all had higher financial status, either family money or with their own successful companies but last month, someone first killed a bartender and then a social worker. The only thing that told us it was remotely connected was the flower in the crime scene.”

“That’s why the profile was changing,” you muttered to yourself, “Okay. Is that normal?”

“No, not at all,” he shook his head, “It’s very unfamiliar. It did prove our multiple copycat killers theory but other than that, it was going to make things incredibly harder until…” he nodded at the TV and you pulled your brows together.

“Hold on,” you sat up straighter, your mind working nonstop, “Multiple copycats who are trying to continue that monster’s legacy, and one happens to taint that legacy by going rogue…”

“And he gets killed,” he finished your sentence for you, “Exactly.”

“It was one of the copycats who killed him?”

“That’s my theory.”

“So they’re not actually working together then?” you asked, exhaling the smoke, “Or- or- wait, you said there could be one copycat that was controlling the others, maybe they did it?”

Spencer took a sip of his coffee, “It could also mean that the leader wouldn’t want to take chances like this again,” he said, “Someone tainted the legacy, he might begin to believe he cannot trust anyone with that again.”

You let out a breath, stubbing the cigarette, “What does that mean then? For…all of this?”

“It means that someone cares so much about your father’s legacy that they’re ready to kill anyone and everyone over it, even their partners,” he said, “It also means that their whole operation is starting to crack. It’s only a matter of time someone makes a mistake and ends up getting caught.”

You massaged your temples, “Well, at least one of us can see the light at the end of this psycho murder tunnel.”

“You can’t?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “It feels like it won’t stop,” you croaked out, “It’s like… It’s like I can’t wake up without dread filling me. It’s always there, at some corner of my mind. The more I think about it, the more I feel like—“ you stopped yourself and Spencer frowned, putting his coffee down.

“What?”

“You don’t want to hear that, trust me.”

“Try me.”

“The more I feel like it will go on until the day I die.”

“It’s impossible for this case to take that long, Y/N—“

“I didn’t say it’d take long,” you took a sip of your wine and heaved a sigh before you looked up at him, the expression on his face almost hurting your heart physically, “Told you that you didn’t want to hear it.”

“Don’t say that.”

You forced a small laugh and got up from the couch, suddenly restless.

“You said it yourself,” you said, pacing in the living room, “His victimology. He went after the people who disappointed him, right? Can you guess who’s disappointing him right now by not turning into the monster that he is?”

“That’s not what I—“ he shook his head fervently and stood up from the couch as well, “No. No way. It’s his victimology, but none of the psychiatric evaluations or anything on his file, including the list of his victims suggest that he would go after his family. There was a reason why he never tried to hurt you or Mina or your mother even back then—“

“No I’m sure they’re safe,” you said, “But Mina didn’t get flowers, professor. I have.”

“If our theory of him being in contact with the copycat is right, it means that your father is involved as well—hey,” he stopped you from pacing, reaching out to hold your hands in his, “Listen to me. Whoever it is, they will never, ever touch you. I’ll make sure of that.”

A painful smile pulled at your lips, “Spencer, that’s not your responsibility.”

“It is.”

“FBI can’t—“

“I’m not talking about the FBI, I’m talking about me.”

You took a shaky breath and wrapped your arms around his middle, burying your face into his chest as you swayed slightly.

“Is it okay if we stay like this for a moment?” you muttered, shifting your weight from one foot to another “I don’t— I can’t sit still, I don’t know why.”

“Do you want to hear the reason why?” he ran his fingertips over your spine up and down, as if trying to soothe you and you nodded.

“Yes please.”

“You feel threatened, so your brain is trying to understand where the danger is coming from. It’s telling you to either stand or run away, so it’s pumping adrenaline into your system. We call that nervous energy.”

“That could be my stripper name,” you mumbled, making a chuckle vibrate deeply in his chest, “Tell me more.”

“The nervous energy happens when you’re under stress,” he said, “Our primitive brain is used to physical threats and it created this system in order to protect us. The threat you’re afraid of is not here, not physical, but your brain is still sending that energy to your limbs so that you can attack that physical threat, or run away to somewhere safe. It’s all a part of your defense mechanism.”

You hmmed into his chest, still holding him tight as if someone would take him away from you before you sniffled and pulled back to look up at him.

“You know, I think I got something you can’t explain with science.”

He raised his brows, “Debatable.”

“Do you want to bet? If I win, you’ll tell me what you planned for the next date.”

“What if I win?”

You wiped at your nose, “Tell me your price, professor.”

“There’s this conference on smoking and its effects on health next week, if I win you will attend that with me.”

“That’s a very indirect way to say that you hate my smoking.”

“I mean, it’s better if you see the effects in that conference, I think it’ll be good for you. It has five sessions, so it’s around….7 hours, including breaks.”

You blinked a couple of times, then nodded. “7 hours? That’s— okay. Yeah, I’m sure— I’m sure it’ll be fun.”  

A smile pulled at his lips, “Okay,” he said, “What is it?”

“It’s just,” you nibbled on your lip, trying to find the right words, “I was thinking and I realized something. I— I think it’s instinctual somehow, you can’t really explain it with science but when you’re here…” you paused, “With me, I mean, this whole panic dissolves. I feel safe, and it’s so unfamiliar that I don’t—“ you let out a small laugh, “I don’t know how to deal with that. I normally don’t feel safe, ever.”

A small smile pulled at his lips and he tilted his head, his warm gaze focused on you. You scrunched up your nose.

“Don’t tell me science can explain that.”

“Oxytocin.”

“God damn it!” you exclaimed, making him laugh, “Oxytocin?”

“Yeah, oxytocin. It’s a hormone that ensures that you trust people along with everything else. Basically, your brain— when you’re attracted to someone, your brain releases dopamine, so your serotonin levels rise and it produces oxytocin. It’s a big part of romantic attachment, it’s released during sex as well.”

You arched a brow, a small smirk flashing over your face and he pressed his lips together, a look of mischief appearing on his face.

“It strengthens fidelity as well,” he explained, “Seeing your partner as more attractive than others, and preferring to interact more with your partner than strangers.”

You clicked your tongue, “7 hours of conference, here we come.”

“It’ll be fun, I heard they’re bringing a real lung.”

“Can’t wait,” you muttered and entwined your fingers with his, “Well for what it’s worth professor, I have a lot of oxytocin for you.”

He cleared his throat, “Scientifically, one of the most important aspects of it is reproduction, in females it triggers labor and in males it moves sperm so having a lot of oxytocin can be—“

“Spencer, I’m trying to talk dirty in a scientific way!” you groaned, a fire spreading over your face because of embarrassment and you took a step to walk away from him but he grabbed your hand to turn you around and tug you closer to him, making you let out a whine.

“I feel like an idiot,” you murmured and he shook his head fervently,

“No, of course not,” he said, pushing your hair behind your ear, “Hey. I don’t know anything about weddings. So we complete each other if you ask me.”

You scoffed a laugh and looked up at him, your brows furrowed together, “You really think that?”

He nodded and you heaved a sigh.

“Okay.”

“And…for your information,” he swallowed thickly, “I have a lot of oxytocin for you too.”

A giggle you couldn’t stop escaped from you as he leaned in to capture your lips in a kiss, making your stomach do a pleasant flip. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your lungs full of his scent, making you dizzy.

“They’ll take away your doctorates for that joke, professor,” you breathed out as he pulled back, resting his forehead on yours while you raked your nails over the back of his neck gently.

“Worth it,” he murmured to your lips, leaning in to kiss you again, this time pressing you closer to his body and your heart started beating in your throat, a whine climbing up to your throat, desire filling your system faster than any other drug.

“Would you like to stay the night?” you whispered, and his eyes shot up to yours, both of you aware what you were really asking. He looked almost hypnotized by the sight of you in his arms and he blinked a couple of times, as if trying to focus before he nodded.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice hoarse and you took a shaky breath.

“Yeah,” you managed to say, your whole being consumed by this moment. “Yeah, I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

You could swear he could hear your heartbeat echoing through the room,

“No scientific explanation this time, professor?” you whispered against his lips and his fingers caressed the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a pleasant shiver from there to your whole body.

“No,” he murmured, leaning in to brush his lips against yours, “Not this time. Not for the lady who imparadises my mind.”

The lady who imparadises my mind.

That was how Dante described Beatrice in Paradise.

You stood on your tiptoes to pull him into a kiss, then tugged at his hand to lead him into your bedroom.

Chapter 15