#hes been electrocuted so many times its starting to feel good

[stardust9905]

Poor Anakin 💀😭🤣🤣

Cody: *bringing a bunch of shinies and his general into a training room* Okay, so, this next exercise is fairly simple. One of these doors will open and give you a prize, the other will deliver a mild electric shock. Since all of you tested as mildly force sensitive, this is a good test of your ability to sense danger.

Rex: *standing next to the doors with his head in his hands*

Anakin: *looking mildly crispy and shaking a little*

Cody: ...Rex... how did Skywalker do on the test?

Rex: *starts shaking for a moment, takes them a second to realize he’s laughing, unable to speak*

Obi-Wan: *parent voice* Ani, did you keep getting the sparky door?

Anakin: *at a voice level that suggests his ears might be ringing* It felt tingly and I liked it so the force got confused and didn’t tell me it was dangerous!

Rex: *giggle snorts*

Cody: *twitchy eyes* Now, see, this is a good show of what Not to do when you start the test, okay?

[bellewintersroe]

Max Verstappen x HornerDaughter! part 11! Here’s the LINK for part 10. Tw: some mentions of death threats? Leni gets a little anxious so talks of anxiety and worry. Talks of a sexual nature. Max and Leni find themselves in a little awkward conversation, after a few too many drinks Max finds himself moping around when his feelings don’t seem to be mutual. It’s fair to say the next morning he’s embarrassed. Still, things move on and soon Mexico is looming, Max gets protective especially when death threats are for some reason sent in innocent Leni’s direction, and the two grow closer than ever. Taglist: @ironmaiden1313 @callsignwidow @fangirl125reader @norassimpingzone @roseseraj @eugene-emt-roe @copper-boom @its-elias-world @cassiopeiia24@larastark3107 @maxxiemoo @crashingwavesofeuphoria @18754389

“Hey, careful.” I breathlessly laughed, reaching out and holding Max’s upper arm, supporting his stance. It wasn’t like he was taller or bigger than me or anything…

“I’m good- sorry!” Max’s semi-sober mind shone through, before he started snickering with drunken laughter. “Cant have you breaking an arm before Mexico.” I smiled, scanning over his slightly messy hair. He’d ruffled it and attempted to tidy it over and over again in the ride back to the hotel.

“No. That wouldn’t be good.” He smiled back to me, eyes glimmering as he watched down in my direction. He was somehow walking and staring at me simultaneously. “You know, you look really pretty tonight.” Max’s arm relaxed and soon I was just holding onto his bicep gently.

“Thank you.” My face immediately warmed. I felt my smile grow and my heart literally fluttered like somebody had just electrocuted me. “But you can’t walk and stare at me at the same time, you should watch where you’re going.” I playfully knocked his face back in the direction down the hall. He was still smiling, laughing to himself.

“Sorry, Leni, I probably shouldn’t have drunk this much… probably.” He muttered to himself, clearly trying to buck up his ideas. “For a change you’re more drunk than I am.” My hand softly slipped off his arm. I saw his brows falter slightly and he reached down, taking a hold of my hand.

My voice hitched as I went to protest, but soon he was looking at me with the same softened eyes I’d stared back to that night we spent on the yacht for his birthday. “Maybe I’m gonna come on too strong-”

“No, don’t say that…” I awkwardly shrugged, stepping outside my hotel room door. “I just…” he paused, looking back down to me again. “I just really like you, Leni.” He hiccuped once again and my heart simultaneously jumped and broke, realizing how truly wasted he just was.

“You’re drunk, Max.” My voice softened, gaze fluttering to the ground. I was afraid if I stared back to him I’d lose myself. “Im truthful.” He slurred as I sighed turning up to him.

“Maybe you don’t feel the same, or-or you’re scared-”

“Max. Let’s not.” An uncomfortable awkwardness rattled through me. He couldn’t mean all of this seeing how wasted he was. I’d been told by men before in this exact situation how they felt about me and it meant nothing. “Sorry.” He quickly spoke as I pulled my key card out. “Sorry.” Max repeated. I reached out and unlocked my door. “Trust me, Max. I do feel the same.” I shyly muttered, facing the door as I pushed on it. Max remained silent. “I just can’t, yet.” He let out out a drunken laugh, one that was overwhelmingly sad. I turned back to him, door wide open so I stepped forwards and eloped him within a hug. “Don’t look so sad, you’re literally a world champion.” I teased, lightly slapping his cheek. Max’s smile emerged again, hands moving up to my waist. “I want you, Leni.” He whispered. I didn’t quite know how to take that comment, I felt weak in the knee’s, an immediate warmth spread through my core and I couldn’t stop staring back into his eyes.

My hand softened on his neck as I grazed over the very bottom of his scalp. I want you too, but not like this. “Please, Max. Not when you’re so drunk. It’s just too soon.” Max and I separated slightly.

“Okay.” He nodded, not overstepping a boundary. “Okay.” He repeated. “Are you okay getting back to your room?”

“It’s only down the hall.” He awkwardly shrugged. Despite seemingly to understand where I was coming from, he still had a semi-sour expression plastered across his face. It would be one that would torment me day and night.

“Okay… night Max.”

“Night…” awkward…

___________________________________________ Friday 28th October 2023.

“All im saying Leni, is that you’ll just be safer in the garage, with us and security.” My dad explained. I huffed in frustration, pushing my glasses off my face. It wasn’t like I was trying to do my work or anything and my dad kept pestering me. “Yeah, but, dad, I don’t get it. Nobody’s bothered about me, I don’t think they even know who I am.” I harshly reached for my glasses, shoving them back on my face. “I’d beg to differ.” He scoffed as I rolled my eyes.

“Look, don’t be rolling your eyes, Leni. At the end of the day it’s for your own safety.” “Nobody’s gonna go out and behead me in the paddock.” I dramatically spoke. “Well you haven’t seen what people have been saying.” He muttered in a low tone. I pursed my lips and pushed my laptop screen back slightly.

“I stay in the garage anyway.” “No you don’t.”

“Okay, I don’t. But I’m safe.” I defended as my dad sighed. “Look, for the safety of you and everybody just stay in the bloody garage this race. I can’t risk anything.” “Alright I will. I was going to anyway.” My eyes widened. My dad muttered something before walking back to what he was focused on before. Basically there’d been a whole load of threats towards Max and Red Bull in Mexico, I wasn’t too sure what for or what over, but security had increased. I hadn’t been very present on that side of social media, so as far as I knew my dad was just being overdramatic. I got back to my work and focused for the rest of the evening, occupied on finishing everything up before the weekend ahead. It wasn’t until I had downtime in the evening that I decided to have a browse of exactly what these threats were. My accounts were all on private so I headed to my message requests. Half of them were spam or just random people messaging me about my dad, or Red Bull, but I did see one particular creepy message about Mexico. A shudder ran down my spine reading how the man said he was going to do horrific things to me. I knew not to take it seriously, but I shouldn’t have doubted my dad so much, let alone argue with him, especially when there was a chain of frightening messages. I wasn’t quite sure what I’d done, or why they knew me? I suppose it was just fear mongering amongst Red Bull and to Max. I didn’t want to spook my father any further, so I hovered over Max’s contact. We hadn’t text in a while, I didn’t know if it would be weird, especially after the other night, to text him. But truthfully I was scared, especially alone in a hotel room.

I screenshotted the imagine and sent it to him, punching out my message frantically quick. Seconds later, Max had responded. Leni: I’m scared wtf?!!!

Max: Leni that’s disgusting, have you told your dad? Leni: I’ll show him tomorrow fml Max: are you ok???

Leni: Im good, just freaked now I’m alone in the hotel room

Max: don’t worry you are safe in here, there’s more security than usual.

Part of me wanted to go be with Max that night. No matter how hard I attempted to deny that I didn’t want anything yet, I did. I couldn’t deny that for much longer. So when he responded I found myself tapping my phone, shuddering at the idea of being alone all evening in this room. Leni: yeah it’ll be fine

Max: I’m sorry they are messaging you too

Leni: don’t be sorry?? It’s not your fault at all, Max

Max: is there anything I can do though? Leni: bring me a night light fml Max: hahahahah not allowed to leave my room sorry Max: you can come to my room however if you are actually that scared

One thing led to another and I was creeping past security with my head held low. They didn’t bat an eyelid. Max must have told them I was coming, I just hoped to god it wouldn’t get spread back to my dad and Geri that I was sneaking into Max’s room at 9pm. But it wasn’t like that, not at all.

“Are you okay?” Max was quick to greet me inside, thanking the security before locking the door behind us. His room was fucking huge, he had the most amazing view and a TV the size of a cinema screen. His bed was king sized (of course) and the sheets were only slightly ruffled from where he’d been sat. Max was in his underwear and had thrown on a hoody. I hoped I hadn’t awoken him.

“I’m ok. I didn’t wake you did I?”

“No, of course not. Come sit down.” He switched the main light off, the TV illuminating the room. I followed, taking the side of the bed that was furthest away from the door and kicking my crocs off to one side neatly. “Are those crocs?!” Max crawled over, leaning over the side of the bed.

“Yeah.” I giggled, gaze lingering over him. “Jesus, Leni. I thought you were better than that.”

“Uh- I love crocs. They’re actually so comfy.” I hugged my knees upwards slightly, Max smirked towards me before resting back onto the pillows to my right. He kept a comfortable distance, one that I wanted to break. “Are you sure you’re okay, though? Those messages were weird.” He double checked. “Yeah… it was just weird. I don’t know how they know who I am.”

“They are just a set of pricks.” He huffed, shaking his head back to the TV. He’d been watching ‘We’re the Millers’ and had it paused until I came in. “I don’t think they’ll do anything though, Leni. But just in case you should be careful.” He nodded towards me, playing the movie.

“Sorry, dad.” I teased as he looked towards me in surprise. “It’s true, no?”

“Yeah, it is.” I glanced down to my Nike socks, I’d purposefully put them on to look cool in front of Max. It was kinda pathetic. “But you can stay here, all night- I mean if you want to, I’m okay with it.” He shrugged honestly.

“I don’t want you to be scared.” He added back on as I smiled softly towards him. “At least I have somebody to watch this with.” He gave me a double glance, nodding towards the tv as I laughed gently. “Suppose so.” A moment of silence took over us as we watched the movie. “I will seriously head-butt someone, though.” “What?”

“If they do anything to you- ah not that they will, but I would.” I laughed slightly, but the protective comment was actually really cute- in a strange kinda way.

“Thanks, Max.” I glanced back down to the sheets I was yet to slip under. “I am a little worried though, I didn’t take my dad seriously.” The message included graphic details of what they wanted to do to me because I was a girl and where they’d find me (not that they could do that but still). I shuddered at the thought. “Don’t be worried, you’ll be ok with us.” Max nodded resting back against the pillows. The aircon nipped at my skin slightly, Max must’ve noticed the goosebumps on my skin and tugged at the blanket slightly. “Thanks.” I smiled back, allowing him to semi help me under.

“Sorry, I can turn it down.” He reached up for the remote, “honestly it’s fine, it’s warmer under here.” I tugged the bedding up to my neck. I could smell Max’s cologne, it dizzied me with emotion.

“Comfy bed.” He commented, still switching the air-con down to a more natural temperature. I still shuddered slightly and brought my hands forwards. “Feel how cold they are.” In the process I touched his bare thigh, Max squirmed and called out in shock. “Leni! What the fuck- how are you so cold?” He scrambled, grabbing my hands in his larger ones. I laid on my side facing him whilst he shuffled down slightly. “Because your room is Antarctica.” I pointed out.

“C’mere.” He offered his arm out and I shuffled forwards, moving over onto his chest with a comfy arm over his front. This felt nice. Like real good, he was all snug and when his hand casually rested on my arm, rubbing up and down I thought I’d burst from excitement. Cuddling wouldn’t lead to anything, right? I could still not overstep a boundary but enjoy myself. I hummed, squeezing him slightly. “You’re all warm.”

“Yeah, you’re fucking freezing.” He tensed when my hand touched the skin that had been exposed from his top lifting. I purposefully put my hand there, hearing him groan as he tensed, reaching down there to shift my hand again. The noise he made did things to me. It was more like a moan than anything, the thought of Max like that making those noises was something I hadn’t dwelled on a whole not- until now. “Mmm, let me get warm!” I teased hearing him laugh and slowly take my hand, pinning it over the other side of my head. Woah. I gasped out a laugh, my stomach fluttering and there was that familiar warming between my legs. Fuck- I was horny, for Max. How embarrassing. My face blushed as I scanned back to his eyes, not knowing if he was thinking what I was thinking.

“Max.” I pouted, but he’d already glanced my face up and down, shifting his body so he was on his knees besides me. His hair fell messy and down over his face and he looked really good. All sensation of being cold left me and suddenly I felt like I was sweating in my hoody.

“Sorry.” He blinked, hand sliding off my wrist gently. My brows furrowed in a slight disappointment and I sat up once again, eyeing over him. All sense had left my body, I wanted his attention, I wanted Max. What about waiting? Fuck waiting- okay maybe I was being brash.

“It’s fine.” I smiled gently, pulling off the hoody and placing it gently on the floor. “We had something good going on then, you ruined it.” He was still teasing, I was glad.

“I wouldn’t say it was good.” I fired back, resting back under the covers. Max then glanced to me, deciding to pull on the own material of his shirt before sinking deeper into the bed. He was almost completely naked. Fuck.

“Fine.” He nodded confidently, meeting my gaze for a moment before his eyes landed back on the TV. Throughout the movie we’d moved closer, with a small nudge of my foot on his leg, Max was offering his arm out again and pulling me into yet another cuddle. I felt like a dog in heat, and when his hand mindlessly slipped onto my lower thigh that was gently resting over his legs I wanted to moan out loud.

I decided to push it further, knowing his hand was where it was, fingers deliciously squeezing into my skin every now and then, I shifted my hand a little lower down his chest, to his stomach. Max swallowed, I could see by the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, but I simply pretended to laugh at the TV. Inside, I was trying to retrace the feeling of his lips on mine, his hand on my skin, even higher up than it was now.

When the movie was over we’d made no significant moves so I let out a small moan of dissatisfaction and rolled back, my hand was cold again, so I purposefully placed it over his lower abdomen just for some attention. It worked. Max hissed, fighting for my hand and grabbing it between his larger one. “If you keep doing that-”

“Sorry, sorry.” I sheepishly spoke, stretching slightly from how uncomfortable this vest stop was. His eyes fell to my chest, my nipples were peaked in the cool air and you could clearly see the outline of them through the white material.

“What will you do if I keep doing it?” My laugh fell short, “make you sleep on the floor.” Max still held my hand up, but when I relaxed it it flopped down besides me, still squeezed by his.

“That’s mean.” My eyes fell to where the covers had pulled down, revealing his naked torso. “Well, if you can’t control yourself..”

“I can control myself!” Truthfully I couldn’t, right now I wanted to do every sinful act to Max under the sun.

“Sure.” He smirked, gaze effortlessly gliding over me. “Mh.” I made a pathetic attempt to fight from his grasp, my hips raising slightly as I did. Max didn’t fail to notice this. At the same time he moved his hand, moving them to my shorts and tugging at them slightly.

“Are you not uncomfortable?” He flicked at them again, the tight material pinging back down to my skin. “Mhm.” Suddenly I felt all shy, nodding as my hand slid to where his was, adjusting the material slightly. “Take them off then.” He spoke in a hushed tone. My breath hitched and my thumbs pushed under the material, inching them off my legs to reveal my matching white thong I’d paired with my vest top on purpose. I had to be prepared, okay?! I lifted my knees up, shyly bringing them together as Max’s jaw tensed. “You can borrow some shorts if you want.” He tore his eyes away, staring back to me from above me. “No, it’s okay.” I whispered as he inhaled sharply, tearing his eyes away.

“You’re doing things to me, Leni.” He openly spoke. I blinked back up to him, pushing myself up once again. “What- what do you mean?” I stammered. Max turned back to me after a moment with an exasperated look. His cheeks were pink and his jaw was tightened. He looked frustrated, exceptionally sexy.

“Because you say you want to wait and then this happens I- you’re driving me insane.”

“Well… we don't have to wait just for tonight…”

[ghcstao3]

By God, would it be possible for us to get more of soap and his tinder adventure with ghost.

I beg you from the bottom of my heart to grace the world with more because this is simply the best thing on earth.

Please please please.

(hope it’s still okay i’m using your ask for this haha)

not sure why it took me so long but finally! more of the tinder adventure :) this may go on ao3 later but i haven’t decided yet

tinder roulette

2.9k words

-

Tinder, in Soap’s opinion, is more of a fun pastime than anything else.

Of course, that isn’t to say he hasn’t used it for its intended purposes—hookups, if anyone is to be honest, it really isn’t a dating app—but it’s long since lost its novelty and has instead become something solely built for Soap’s entertainment.

And Gaz’s, too, apparently.

“I can’t believe how many men on here actually use those stupid fishing pictures on their profiles.”

Gaz has been hoarding Soap’s phone for the better part of an hour, now, liberally swiping left and right on others’ accounts as per routine when neither of them have anything to do. Only this time he’s essentially just been swiping left for a variety of reasons that are mostly beyond Soap.

“I don’t like how he’s holding his phone.”

“Then swipe left,” is usually Soap’s unhelpful and unheeded input.

“Already did,” is what Gaz will say.

Soap sighs as Gaz continues browsing. Normally it’s more fun for Soap than what it’s been that day, but something about the current selection feels… lacklustre. There hasn’t been much of anything funny or fascinating to pique his interest, so Gaz’s say has remained precedent.

It usually does. Just more so today, which Soap is completely fine with—at most he might chat with someone that matches with him (or, again, Gaz might chat with someone under the guise of being John, 28), and otherwise he’ll do absolutely nothing.

Until he hears Gaz suck in a sharp breath beside him. Which could be either a very good or very bad sign.

But by the way Gaz tenses, finger hovering over the screen like he’s afraid he’ll be electrocuted if he does anything, Soap takes it as a very bad thing.

Soap finally looks back at the screen after having been off in his own head for the past fifteen minutes.

At first glance, there isn’t anything that Soap sees that makes him think Gaz’s reaction was warranted. Then, and unfortunately, he starts connecting the different things he’s seeing across the profile—the glaring Simon, 32, the cheesy bio classified underneath it.

And the photos. God, the photos. Soap would hate himself for his immediate recognition coming from a set of bare, scarred and broad shoulders if he didn’t have the excuse of being familiar with the identifiable tattoo that stretches up Simon, 32’s forearm.

Gaz turns to Soap. “You don’t think…?”

“If I’m being honest, Gaz,” Soap says slowly, “I dinnae want to think about this at all.”

Gaz’s thumb inches closer to the screen, and Soap’s heart stops when he sees the hint of a mischievous grin begin to form on his fellow sergeant’s face.

“So then you wouldn’t mind if I…?”

“Gaz,” Soap warns.

“What? It’s probably just an old profile like yours. And besides,” Gaz huffs, and Soap really does not like where this is going, “aren’t you at least a little curious to see what happens? Given your…”

Soap scoffs. “No, because nothing will happen. So hand over my—“

He makes to grab for his phone but is unsuccessful when Gaz, with stupidly lightning reflexes, stretches his arm out of Soap’s reach, and, very much to Soap’s dismay, presses down his thumb and swipes right on their lieutenant’s profile.

“See? What’s the worst that could—oh.”

It’s glaring, that horrible, awful, eyesore of a pop-up that reads It’s a match!

Soap thinks he might die. This is when and where he lays to rest permanently. Because what the fuck?

Gaz winces, sheepishly handing the phone back to Soap. “That is… this is a good thing, innit? Means he likes you back, right? Right?”

Soap doesn’t take it right away, instead shrinking in on himself, desperately scrubbing at his face with the heels of his palms as if it’d erase the last minute of his life. As if it’d erase his entire existence. Because even if they matched—a fact in and of itself that Soap is still having a tough time processing—Soap will eventually have to face Ghost knowing that they had, whether or not the man has checked his own notifications, and that idea alone is mortifying.

Soap is going to kill Gaz.

“This is what I get for not listening to my Mam about goin’ to mass,” Soap groans, plucking the phone from Gaz’s hold. The first picture on Ghost’s profile stares back at him—a goddamn mirror selfie angled in a way that hides his face, but definitely not the definition of his arms thanks to lighting and a muscle tee Soap would have never thought his lieutenant to own—and he doesn’t so much as hesitate to exit out of the notification so he can forget this all happened as soon as possible.

Which would be never, in all honesty, but Soap’s an optimist.

Most days.

“You think I could get a transfer before I have to see him again?”

Gaz quirks an eyebrow. “A transfer by this afternoon? Ain’t gonna happen, mate. Not even the higher-ups could manage that.”

Soap frowns. “This after—what are you talking about?”

Gaz makes an affronted sound. “What am I…? Training, you idiot,” he snaps, smacking Soap upside the head. “You’re on duty with him later. Don’t tell me you forgot.”

“‘Course not.” Soap pauses. He tries to smile but all that forms is a grimace. “If I asked you to fill in for me…“

“Absolutely not,” Gaz says. “You’re facing this yourself, mate. Today. And then maybe after you and Ghost can snog, or something.”

Soap jabs his elbow into Gaz’s side. “You act like this isn’t your fault.”

“But it’s a yes to the snogging?”

As much as Soap might like to entertain the thought any other time, he just groans as he stands from the ratty couch kept in the common room with nothing more than the intention to hide away until facing his inevitable doom.

It’s great, the things he’s feeling at the moment. So great.

And of course that feeling stays all throughout what seems like no time at all before Soap is procrastinating his way to training, an extra weight on his shoulders and far too many thoughts swirling around his head that all cease the second he makes eye contact with Ghost.

A pissy Ghost.

“You’re late,” the lieutenant says.

“Sorry, sir,” Soap mutters. He keeps his gaze anywhere but on Ghost. “Got… caught up.”

Ghost grunts. “Right.”

The silence that follows is characteristic on Ghost’s end. Soap, however, can’t bring himself to say anything without the fear of it somehow leading to asking Ghost if he’s been on his phone at all since that morning without reason to justify the question.

But obviously Ghost picks up on his nerves, and given the man’s irritatingly blunt nature, it’s no surprise he’s confronting Soap about it the moment the recruits are busy and out of earshot.

“You tense, sergeant?” Ghost says. Never a question with him; always an accusation.

“No,” Soap lies. He can’t look over to his colleague without that stupid picture appearing in his mind. “Just…”

“Tense?” Ghost repeats.

Soap sighs. Concedes, “Aye. Tense.”

When Ghost says nothing, Soap finally risks a glance at his lieutenant only to be met with Ghost’s own gaze—too intense, too piercing. Soap hadn’t known brown eyes could look so cold until Ghost.

Soap can’t help but feel as if Ghost already knows. Because in all honesty, he probably does, and there had never been any use in trying to maintain what little remains of Soap’s own dignity.

If he had had any to begin with.

Ghost tilts his head. Scrutinizes Soap further with those eternally analytic pupils of his. “And for what reason, sergeant?”

Soap is going to throttle his superior officer. He’s going to wring the man’s neck, get discharged, and never have to worry about this ever again. Because Ghost is taunting him, clearly, and how unfair is that?

“I think you know, sir,” Soap grumbles through grit teeth, because he supposes he may as well face this head-on now as much as he fears the moment it’s said aloud.

But to his surprise, Ghost actually falls back just a bit, shifting his weight between feet in that awkward, stilted way he rarely does.

Like a kid caught with their hand shoved in the cookie jar.

“Well, don’t dwell on it too much, Johnny,” Ghost finally says—the words are quieter, softer this time. “Was an accident.”

Soap curses the crumbling feeling of hope in his chest that maybe, best case scenario, this whole incident would lead to a confession. But of course not—Ghost swiping right on Soap was an accident.

“Ah. Well.” Soap clears his throat, shying away from what’s become a much kinder gaze, “So was—for me too. Gaz had my phone.”

Ghost hums. Some look glasses over his eyes before he turns from Soap and marches away to continue barking orders at the rookies. Soap doesn’t know if it’s any better than having them both linger in a suffocating awkwardness.

An accident. Right. Why did Soap think it could ever be anything else?

The remainder of training is torturous, with the way Ghost doesn’t utter a word to Soap beyond anything work-related, or some professional-opinion bullshit—all the while was an accident rattles around Soap’s head as the day progresses at a snail’s pace.

He can’t decide if it all being an accident makes the situation any better. He can’t decide on a lot of things today.

And clearly, for Ghost, it doesn’t matter either way.

Soap is going to kill someone. He just hasn’t figured out who yet.

*

“He said it was an accident.”

Gaz hardly looks up from his tray as Soap slumps into a seat across from him. The mess hall is filled with the hushed buzz of chatter, sporadic and spaced out about the room. The open, public environment is the only reason he feels safe enough talking about it—it’s the only place he isn’t concerned about having Ghost suddenly appear in that eerie, ghostlike way of his.

“Told me not to worry about it,” Soap continues, “as if he hadn’t been making me more worried with his weird interrogation.”

“Remind me why you like him like him again,” Gaz mutters before shoving another forkful of food in his mouth. He chews and swallows unreasonably quickly. “Starting to seem like you don’t actually have feelings for him, mate.”

Soap huffs. “Only because it’s obvious the bastard doesnae feel the same. What’s the point, Gaz?”

Gaz stares at him. Blinks once, twice. “I don’t know,” he says. “You tell me.”

Soap groans loudly, sinking low in his seat. He wishes just one person could give him a straight answer to resolve this entire thing. A be-all-end-all solution to put him out of his misery—because even if Ghost says it was an accident, it still happened, and it still means Ghost is active on his own Tinder to some horrifying-to-think-about extent.

And Soap is horrified to think about it. Not to mention terribly conscious of the fact.

“That’s not even the worst part,” Soap grouses. Admits, “I just told him it was a mistake for me too.”

Soap has endured many looks from many people, and he doesn’t think anything compares to the incredulity on Gaz’s face at that moment.

“You know, I felt bad for getting you into this up until you said that,” Gaz tells him. “But hearing that shit is just unbelievable. You hear yourself, right?”

“Every fucking day,” Soap sighs. He buries his face in his hands, shoulders bunched as he grumbles nonsense into his palms. “What do I even do now?”

“Nothing,” Gaz says, then pauses, shrugs his shoulders. “Or tell him the truth. Maybe he also lied.”

Soap frowns, brows furrowing deeply behind the cover of his hands. The idea never occurred to him, because what would be the likelihood of Ghost ever lying about something as trivial as this? Near zero, Soap would think.

But the idea gives him just a piece of that crumbling hope back. And so does the tone of Gaz’s voice that hints he may know more about something than he lets on.

He always seems to. Soap doesn’t know whether or not he should be thankful.

Before he can decide, however, Gaz is continuing with his ever-so-sage counselling, “If you’re going with the latter, you’d better start looking for him now. ‘Cause if he was lying, he will be avoiding you at all costs.”

Soap huffs, finally letting his arms drop back to his sides as he begins to get up. Once standing, he says to Gaz, “I hate that you’re right.”

Gaz snorts. “Usually am.”

Despite his eye roll, Soap does plan on heeding his advice instead of arguing that no, Gaz is definitely not usually right. Because he isn’t. So what if he’s just on the nose today?

Soap sets off on his search.

*

It takes well over an hour to locate Ghost, after checking all of his usual spots and hiding places several times over, and asking just about everyone he saw if they knew about the lieutenant’s whereabouts.

The answer, of course, is always no idea, but it was worth a shot anyway—only considering he still manages to find Ghost on his own in the end.

Elusive bastard. Soap thinks if the disappearing act is kept up, he might start to be inclined to agree that Gaz was onto something about Ghost’s own dishonesty.

Maybe it’s a little unethical to be confronting him right out of the showers, though.

It’s a surprise Ghost doesn’t appear to be immediately alerted of Soap’s presence with the loud thud of the door swinging shut, his back remaining turned to Soap all the while the sergeant works up the courage to clear his throat.

And maybe admire the planes of his lieutenant’s back just a moment. He’s pulled on everything but a shirt already—even one of his gaiters has made it on before the hoodie that lies in a heap on a bench beside him as he dries his hair.

Again, though, Soap is more focused on the muscles that had him recognizing Ghost in those photos earlier that day.

“Can I help you, Soap?” Ghost grunts. He drops the towel he’d been using for his hair next to the hoodie he shortly pulls over his head—Soap is only allowed a brief glimpse at damp, tousled, blond hair before a hood is obscuring it.

Soap isn’t sure why he thought Ghost hadn’t noticed him enter.

“You lied to me before,” Soap says. He may as well bite the bullet now—to drag this out any longer than a day seems childish, really. He’s old enough to know that, but stupid enough to have let Gaz have access to his phone, and to still have a Tinder account in the first place.

Ghost tenses. His back stays to Soap as he freezes, and just barely Soap is able to make out the sharp intake of breath.

“Thought I told you not to dwell.”

Soap shrugs, though Ghost can’t see it. “You tell me a lot of things, sir.”

Ghost seems to consider this in the minute rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathes, in the echo of a distant, residual dripping and an overhead fan.

He finally ducks his head, the sound of fabric shifting as he shoves his hands deep into his hoodie pockets. “Maybe I did lie. Maybe I didn’t. S’pose it doesn’t matter either way, does it, Johnny?”

“Why not?” Soap cocks his head. “I mean, Gaz did have my phone, but he had a point about getting my head out of my arse.”

Ghost turns, then, eyes narrowed at Soap with something akin to skepticism. “And what point is that?”

And for what reason, sergeant?

“That I needed to grow a pair and tell you how I feel,” Soap confesses. “To just use this whole thing as an excuse to do that.”

Ghost blinks, those stupidly brown doe eyes of his widening. “Is that what this is?”

Soap chews the inside of his cheek. “If you were lying.” He attempts something playful, but it falls flat. Meek.

There’s still so much distance between them. Too much. And with the way Soap’s heart currently swells with hope, he’s praying that changes soon.

He just has to wait on Ghost.

“I didn’t think anything would happen,” Ghost says.

“Neither did Gaz,” Soap replies. “But I could forgive him.”

“Only if I was lying?”

Soap nods.

“Then you’re a better friend than I’d be, Johnny.”

It’s enough of a confession for Soap. It’s likely the closest thing he’d ever get to one from Ghost.

And that’s alright. Because it’s the best thing to be getting out of what (admittedly) mild fiasco he’d gotten into.

“I’m only so willing because it ended me here,” Soap says. He stalls a moment, almost unashamed in the way he properly looks Ghost over. “And I’d really like to compare those pictures to real life, if I’m honest.”

Ghost huffs. He grabs his towel and slings it over his shoulder before he’s moving toward the exit just behind Soap. Soap’s heart jumps as he gets closer, closing that distance, until Ghost is leaning down to Soap’s ear and murmuring, “I can make that happen.”

The lieutenant teases Soap’s hand, pretending to grab at it but stopping at a mere brush of fingers before he disappears out the door and leaves Soap to stand alone, dumbfounded.

But only for a moment. Because goddamnit if he isn’t immediately trailing Ghost to his quarters after that.

-

(taglist!! i didn’t forget i swear: @sketchscientist @crazy-phan-girl13 @crazies-unanimous @hanniballecterkinnie @lunainlove @lucibell-writes )

[kissbeginswithkay]

Watching 2012 TMNT (aka peak TV) again and I have so much to say. I'm gonna combat the writer's weird romance stuff with ✨headcanons✨ (spoilers for season 2 in here!)

Leo doesn't have a crush on his (unknown for season 1 and 2, maybe season 3??) stepsister, (s)he wants to be her! Leo thinks Karai is pretty and realizes she might be a girl. April is a good friend, but Karai is cool, she's got a (literally) metal style, with a kickass hairstyle and rocker makeup. Leo wants to be as confident as her, as a girl!

I actually do ship Casey and April together, they have much more chemistry just from Casey's first appearance rather than how long Donnie and April have been friends. I'm lowkey a big fan of jealous Donnie though, it just fits him somehow. Not creep/stalker Donnie though, too creepy :(. Like I can understand that he doesn't know how to express his feelings for her, but I don't like this portrayal of him, he's not like in any other series! (As far as I know, I've only watched this and Rise, but I feel like I would've seen people talk about it if it happened in other TMNT series.) I don't ship Casey and Donnie either, I like the bromance between Casey and Raph much more. Casey and Donnie do Not like each other at first, cause they're both fighting for April (which is so ridiculous)

Also Casey writes in his diary that April is someone close to him! That's so sweet, whether it's romantic or not, (even if the intention is romantic) they have a really good bond.

Not liking how April will make Donnie believe he has a chance when he doesn't with kissing him, but I do believe she genuinely calls out for him because she knows he'll come for her fast, whether she's aware of his feelings for her or not (she probably is :/)

Also I'm watching season 2 episode 8 right now and why are they making Derp!April freaky???

I'm sad that Raph lost Spike, I wish he didn't turn into Slash, I think Spike was a great pet to show Raph's softer side, and a good constant in his day to day when his brothers were pissing him off. He literally starts destroying stuff now that Spike isn't around in season 2 episode 9!

I love how much Raph loves Mikey (AS BROTHERS!!! i feel like I have to clarify cause the amount of brother shippers is too many, and y'all aren't welcome on my page) like any time Mikey gets hurt Raph is the first one to notice and scream "Mikey!" I love their younger sibling dynamic since they act the most like siblings (though Leo, Donnie, and Mikey got their part of teasing their siblings)

Casey is so punk, you know he DIY'ed all the stuff he has, especially with the makeshift electrocuter. And wearing both face paint and a mask? Hell yeah! I wanna read more on punk history and why people wear a mask rather than Casey's reason of "cause it's cool!"

yeah I love this show despite all its problems, I enjoyed it when I was younger and I still love it now

okay let me actually keep watching instead of trying to write this post and watch at the same time LOL, I've gotten through 4+ episodes trying to write this post. This hallucination episode is scary cause imagining it in the perspective of people who experience hallucinations irl,

[onceuponastory]

in another universe - god the bounty hunter x reader

Plot: One night, Y/N meets someone who’s about to change her life and everything she knows. Pairing: God the Bounty Hunter x Female!Reader (if you look hard enough) Warnings: Mentions of death/murder, guns/weapons and kidnapping. As always, if I miss any triggers please let me know! Notes: None of you say a fucking word 😂 seriously though, we get like a minute of Seb content from a cameo and I say “I can work with this” lmao. There’s no plot spoilers in this (bc I only watched those two cameos) Not beta’d, so any mistakes are my own!

Wrapping her jacket around herself, Y/N leaves the bar where she’s spent most of the night. Alcohol still pools in her stomach, its warmth spreading throughout her body. She sighs contently. It’s been a good night, something she’s needed for a long time. And then she begins the walk home. Soon, someone falls into step behind her, matching their footsteps to hers. Even when she speeds up and slows down, the stranger matches her footsteps. Y/N registers her heartbeat rising. That’s strange. Hopefully she’s just imagining things, and that she’s not being followed. But as they continue down the street, the person’s footsteps still follow behind hers. As her mind races, Y/N tries to calm herself down. Because surely, this can’t be happening. She’s just overreacting.

“Sorry.” She murmurs, stepping aside to let the person behind her past, hoping they’ll soon be gone and she can head home with no more worries. But then, she feels something cold and hard pressing against the small of her back. Immediately, Y/N sobers up. Her breath hitches in her throat, and her heart stops. She already knows what it is, and what it means.

She’s about to die.

“Just keep walking.” A male voice orders, hot against her cheek. She does as the voice asks, too nervous to argue back. As they walk, she tries to pick up her pace a little, hoping that she’ll be able to slip away quick enough to not end up with a bullet in her back. But the man simply matches his pace with hers, digging the gun into her back even harsher. “Uh uh.” He tuts. Something is pressed into her neck then, and she yelps in pain. “Quiet.” Y/N immediately shuts up. “That is connected to my ring. One wrong move, and 50,000 volts will be sent through you. So you better do as I say.” He orders, and she nods. 

As he leads her through the streets, Y/N continues to think of what this man could possibly want with her. Of course, she has her ideas, but none of them are good ones. Before she can even engineer her next escape plan, the man leads her to a car. “Get in. We’re going for a drive.”

When the man gets in beside her, she manages to get a good look at him. He doesn’t look like she expected him to. For starters, his outfit makes him look more like an art student than a dangerous assassin, especially with the various bracelets covering his arms. Yet, Y/N finds herself wanting to ask him things, to know more about him, and especially why he chose to dress like this. That is, she would if he wasn’t pointing a gun at her while also threatening to electrocute her. Glancing over his face and his jawline, a light heat settles on her cheek. He’s kinda cute, in a way… and oh god, why is she thinking this about someone who’s kidnapping her? But then again, maybe in another universe, one where he isn’t trying to kill her… things would be different.

“What do you want with me?” She asks finally, as the man starts driving. A huff follows her question. “Okay, are you going to kill me, or are you just kidnapping me?”

“Most people don’t ask so many questions.”

“What, you kidnap people and expect them to stay silent, and not ask what the fuck is happening?” She snaps. “No, fuck that. Tell me what you want with me.” As silence fills the car once more, Y/N suddenly worries that she is about to be hit with all those volts that the man threatened for daring to talk back. Yet, to her surprise, the man simply chuckles as if impressed by her fire. 

“It’s not me who wants you, doll. I’m just the delivery driver.” He replies. She won’t lie, she quite enjoys being called doll by him. But then, the realisation hits her. 

“Oh god. Is this about Josh?” The man frowns.

“Who the fuck is Josh?”

“My stupid fucking boyfriend.” She huffs. Before they started dating, Josh used to be a petty criminal, stealing money and jewellery here and there. When she met him, though, he seemed to be doing better, and she helped get him back on the straight and narrow. And for the next couple of years, things were good. Sure, they had their arguments, but they were happy. Or at least, Y/N thought they were. A few nights ago, Josh came home freaking out because he ‘pissed off some dangerous people’. Although he didn’t go into specifics, from the terrified look on his face, Y/N knew it wasn’t good, and he’d fallen back into his old tricks. Or maybe he didn’t leave them behind at all. Maybe he’s been playing her this whole time, working his way up the criminal ladder whilst playing happy families with her. 

“All I got told was he owed my boss money, and when we tried to find him for payback, he had disappeared.” 

“So they sent you after me instead.” She murmurs. When the man nods, her entire body slumps forward, and she even begins shaking her head. Perhaps hoping that she convinces herself that this isn’t true. Hoping that it’s just a horrible nightmare, or even a twisted prank. But this is all very real. Something twinges deep in her stomach, and Y/N lets out a cry. He ran without telling her, and threw her to the wolves to clean up his mess. If she knew, she could’ve helped him. Or at least fled too. Tears start to fall, and she tries to wipe them away to no avail, as they keep coming even harder. Did she ever mean anything to him? Is he coming back for her… or is he gone forever? But she already knows the answer to that. He didn’t even bother to tell her the truth about what was going on, and fled before he could even face the music. Of course he’s not coming back for her. “God.” She sighs, burying her head in her hands. Her entire life these past few years has been nothing but a lie. 

And now, she’s just collateral damage. 

“I’m sorry.” The man speaks, causing her to raise an eyebrow. She looks back over at him, blinking in confusion as she waits for him to say something like ‘sorry I have to kill you’ or ‘sorry it’s come to this’ before putting her out of her misery. But nothing else comes. 

“What?” 

“I mean, I’m um- sorry you had to find out like this, with my gun pointed at your back.” He stammers, obviously overwhelmed by being the one to tell her that her boyfriend had left her to die. “I know I’m not really the most moral person, but that was a shitty thing for him to do.” And despite the tears still streaming down her cheeks, and how this man is most likely driving her to her death, Y/N feels something inside her flutter. In that moment, she appreciates his small glimpse of kindness more than he could ever know. 

“If you want ransom money from him, it’s not worth it. Just kill me.” She states with a shrug. “He didn’t even care enough to tell me what was going on, so there’s no way he cares enough to get me back. Knowing him, he’s probably in a whole other state right now, doing it all over again.”

“I’m not going to kill you. I’m under strict instructions not to harm you.” Y/N doesn’t reply, simply resting her head against the window. Honestly, she doesn’t care what happens to her now. As far as she knows, her life and relationship are over. She has nothing else to live for at this point.

Silence falls once more, neither willing to say anything to the other after that bombshell. The night sky soon envelops them, and Y/N feels herself slowly starting to fall asleep. A little part of her still hopes this is just a dream, that she’ll wake up back home and safe, not being driven to god knows where.

“What’s your name?” The man asks, cutting through her thoughts.

“Why do you care? I thought the others didn’t do so much talking.” The man shrugs.

“You’re not like the others.” Another flutter from deep inside her. Y/N tries to suppress it as much as she can. Maybe he’s lying to her, and he wants to know everyone’s name. Or maybe, after telling her that her boyfriend left her for dead, he wants to make her feel a little better. Although, maybe the flutter is because after the little snippet of kindness he showed her earlier… Y/N’s starting to feel more comfortable around him.

“It’s Y/N. Can I know your name?”

“I’m God.” Immediately, Y/N raises a brow. “What?!”

“Oh please, that is not your fucking name. Please don’t tell me you chose that.” 

“Obviously it’s not my real name. But nobody else gets to know my real name. And besides, it works, right? I saw it as meeting your maker kind of thing.” 

“It doesn’t. That’s so cheesy.” Y/N shakes her head, laughing to herself. As her peals of laughter fill the air, God rolls his eyes. 

“I’m going to let you off with that laughter because you’re sad.” He insists. “But no more, alright?” He warns.

“Thank you. That felt so good. I needed that.” She pants once she’s finally calmed down. It feels more like they’re two friends spending time together than a bounty hunter and the person he’s been sent to kidnap. A flicker of a smile crosses God’s lips. Although, he won’t lie... it’s a nice feeling. And besides, despite how annoying she’s being, hearing her laughter is a lot better than hearing her cries.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Tell me about your boss.” 

“I can’t do that.”

“Of course you can’t.” She sighs. The sound causes a pang in God’s heart. Obviously, he’s supposed to keep things about him and his boss quiet for safety. But after everything this poor woman has been through tonight, including realising just how much of an asshole her boyfriend is, surely the least he can do is tell her something. He’s a lot more firm and threatening to the others he’s taken. But Y/N, she’s different. The reason he’s kidnapping her isn’t her fault. Everyone else he was sent to deal with were assholes and scum of the earth, and he had no qualms about making sure they were dealt with. This, though, isn’t Y/N’s fault. None of it is. She didn’t ask for any of this, to have her life turned upside down because of the actions of her shitty boyfriend. In some way, God feels protective of her, and he doesn’t understand why. Maybe, she’s finally melting his heart of stone.

“He’s… nice I suppose? Or at least as nice as someone who orders bounty hunters after people could be.”

Maybe, in some other life, or some other universe, he and Y/N could be friends. It’s just a shame the way things work out. Sometimes, God wishes he could live another, normal life. One with a loving family or just someone to call his own. If only he made other choices before he got lost and went down this path, and turned to doing what he does as a way to tell the world to fuck off after it chewed him up and spat him out. He could’ve made something with his life. Something good.

Maybe he could’ve met someone like Y/N.

No. He couldn’t. That’s insane. He’s insane. He could never be a good person, especially not after what he’s done. The lack of sleep is making him go crazy or something. He’s just taking pity on Y/N because of what she’s been through. There’s no other meaning behind it. And besides, he likes this life. It’s been his for so long, he doesn’t know another way to live. Stupid fucking Y/N, making him think about his feelings. Thankfully, she’ll be out of his hair soon, and no longer his problem.

Although, as they approach the meeting point… deep down, God realises he might not be as ready to let go of Y/N as he thinks he is.

“Well. Here we are.” He announces, pulling up beside a row of rundown buildings. Y/N gulps. This is it. This is where she dies. “You know, I am sorry.”

“Mhm. You know, since I’m gonna die soon, I’m just going to say it. You aren’t so bad, God.” She admits. God scoffs.

“You don’t have to lie to me, Y/N.”

“I’m not!” She insists. “I mean, sure, we didn’t get off to the best start, but you’re nicer than I thought you would be.” Her words make him smile, and he sighs. This is going to be even harder than he thought. “And besides, you could’ve killed me on the way over here, because let’s face it, I was being annoying. But you didn’t.” Honestly, he couldn’t. Not just because that’s not what he does as a bounty hunter… but because he just can’t. He can’t harm a hair on Y/N’s head. “I guess we better go then.” She announces, reaching out for the door handle.

“Y/N. Wait.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Do we wanna see more from these two?

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[balanceoflightanddark]

Growing up with Godzilla

It was 2003. I was about 5. I only remember that because I saw Finding Nemo in theaters that year. See one of the perks of autism is that you often have a clear memory of things that resonate with you. And what resonated with me was movies and tv shows. In particular Power Rangers.

So it should come to no surprise when during that year, I sat down and watched a film where the first thing I saw was a massive dinosaur doing battle with a robotic duplicate. I thought it was an episode of Power Rangers at first. Yet the dinosaur wasn't really depicted as entirely evil. It was trying to find its offspring that humans had captured. And there wasn't anything triumphant about humans triumphing over either it or the mutated Pteranodon it formed an alliance with. There was long lingering shots of the giant monsters thrashing in pain, foaming at the mouth, or undergoing painful convulsions with bolts of electricity being shot through them.

Then, against all odds, the dinosaur got back up. It destroyed its robotic duplicate and guided its offspring back out to sea rather than continue to destroy civilization.

What I didn't know was that this was my first Godzilla movie. And I was hooked. I often went to the video store to view as many Godzilla movies as I could. Sometimes he was a bad guy. Other times, he was a hero. Yet all the time, he couldn't be stopped. He got swallowed alive, dumped in a volcano, electrocuted, cut up, and bled like a stuck pig. Yet he kept coming.

I grew up. Played the Pipeworks Trilogy. Started my Godzilla DVD collection with a box set and went on from there. Saw the first film and the allegory he was conceived in. Saw him become a good guy and a symbol of hope. A literal zombie in one film and savior of the planet in another. It was like everyone had their vision of what Godzilla should stand for. Course back then, everyone thought Godzilla was just for little kids. Almost got ashamed a few times of being a fan.

Yet I kept coming back. Soon he was on the big screen again in both America and Japan. I still remember seeing Godzilla 2014 at an AMC theater.

It's been a long road, and I wasn't the same kid I was before. I got older. Smarter. Some things I appreciated back then I dropped, and I picked up other interests. Godzilla never left though. One way or another, he kept coming back. And as I got older, I started learning the history behind the monster. The real history of the bombings that spawned him. The various societal factors that birthed his foes. All the cultural practices and changing times that caused Godzilla to evolve over the decades.

Now we stand on his 70th anniversary. Godzilla's won an oscar, and some of his older films are being shown at Fathom Events around the world. We've got short films, fan animations, comics. Hell. I'm writing a Godzilla crossover fic with Avatar the Last Airbender. I've seen him go from being something only meant for kids to being embraced by a growing fanbase of all ages. And chances are he's going to evolve time and again in the future.

Something I grew up with, something I was derided for liking, was becoming more respected. People began reevaluting his older movies. Even I began wondering what kept him to be so enduring. I may not know the whole answer since Godzilla's one of those characters that's simply too big for one person to fully summarize. What I can say is this: he made me feel valued. Maybe I'm waxing poetic, but when you get dedicated to a film series, you start to realize that you're smarter than you realize. You begin to appreciate things you never thought you'd touch. And maybe, just maybe, you've got something more to offer than most people give you credit for.

In time, you learn to endure the bad times. Cause Godzilla's always there, and he never stops giving. He teaches that sometimes it can be cathartic to see cities crumble and the sins of man laid bare. Sometimes one can have sympathy to those you never thought you'd have for. Sometimes what's good in humanity can pull themselves out of the rubble and fight for what really matters.

And sometimes, when all is said and done, you can decide to end the cycle of violence and head back out to sea.

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

Damage Control - 2x19 Folsom Prison Blues

Tiny’s large body stretches the body bag to its limits, and Dean gives him a silent salute when the gurney is rolled past him, out of the infirmary. He’d liked the guy, and although Sam would be nervous about that, Dean doesn’t care. Not every inmate in this prison is a bad person. Many of them, he’s learned, were simply dealt a tough hand in life, often from the very start, and, like Tiny, hadn’t managed to fight their way out - at least not in the right, legally accepted way. 

In truth, it’s no wonder that Dean fits in here so easily, as Sam had remarked with concern. All the crap he’s dealt with, all the crap he’s done - he’s not much different from Tiny or the others. Hell, he’s been on the FBI’s Wanted List for a while now, and while most of the crimes he’s charged with are bogus or were committed for a good reason, there are some atrocities he’s responsible for that would rightfully put him behind bars for a very long time. 

And he’d survive in here. Not in Solitary. Dean can only face windowless walls and nothing but himself for a limited amount of time. But as part of a community - an inked-up, screwed-up, defensive shields-up community with a clear hierarchy and an even clearer set of unwritten rules - he’d make it through. He might even thrive, judging by the amount of cigarettes he’s won over cards and by the respectful looks he’s getting in the yard ever since returning from Solitary. 

Not Sam, though. Unless they’d put him in charge of the library, Sam would wilt like an unwatered plant. And even then, that big brain of his and his need for independence would make him climb the walls. Physically, he could stand his ground, of course, but mentally? Like Dean, Sam can handle a lot of shit. Being caged in is not one of them.

“Your BP’s fine. Your chest still hurting?”

Velcro rips as the prison doctor loosens the blood pressure cuff around Dean’s arm. Feet dangling, Dean’s sitting on the infirmary’s examination table, one hand cuffed to its frame. A guard is hovering, an eternally menacing glare plastered to his face, 

“A little,” Dean admits. While he no longer feels like dying, his chest is still a little tight where the ghost squeezed his heart.

“Hm.” The doc - a different one than last night’s - wrinkles his already deeply creased forehead. “Have you had heart problems before?”

Massive coronary when accidentally electrocuting myself with an amped-up taser, Dean remembers. But after being healed by a reaper, I believe that no longer counts.

“Not really, no,” he replies. 

“Hm,” the doc hums again. He’s an elderly man giving off grandfather vibes, but his sharp blue eyes belie his age. “Unbutton your top for me, please,” he says. 

With his one available hand, Dean snaps the upper half of his orange jumpsuit open to reveal his naked chest. It’s mottled with bruises, and not all of them come from the beating he took last night. 

“Looks like you got into a bit of a pickle”, the doc says, and, somehow, his manner of speaking reminds Dean of Bobby. 

Dean just huffs, and it turns into a grunt when the doctor palpates his sore ribs. Man, Deacon really didn’t hold back when he used the baton on him last night. Way to make it look real.

“My colleague told you you cracked one of these?” the doc says, pointing at a particular dark swath of bruising along Dean’s lower ribs.

“He did.” 

“And advised you to take it easy for a few days?” The old man reaches for the stethoscope dangling around his neck.

“Spa weekend coming right up,” Dean jokes sarcastically. 

The doc pauses for a moment, his eyes looking directly into Dean’s, musing, and Dean has the sudden feeling of disarmament.

“You better be careful in here, son,” the old doctor says. It’s a warning, but his tone is gentle. “This isn’t a place that takes humor lightly. Might want to think twice when you challenge people like Tiny. You seem to be an intelligent young man. I’d hate to see you getting wheeled out of here in a body bag, too. Now, deep breaths, if you can.”

Caught a little off guard, Dean is glad that the doctor doesn’t seem to expect a response while listening to Dean’s heart and lungs. The stethoscope feels cold against his chest, and every deep breath sends a sharp stab through his left side where he’s definitely cracked a rib. He pinches his face - and hisses when that causes a ring of pain to flare up around his left eye and down his cheek.

“Did you get that x-rayed last night?” the doctor asks, pointing at his injured face.

Dean presses three fingers against his eyebrow to quell the headache and squints at the doc. “No. They said it wasn’t necessary.”

The infirmary doctor on duty last night had given Dean a perfunctory once over before sticking him in his caged, uncomfortable bed and telling him to ‘sleep it off’.

“Hm.” The gloved, rheumy hands carefully palpate Dean’s wounded cheekbone. “Might be cracked as well. But even if it is, I’m afraid the upstanding taxpayers of Green River County won’t pay for anything else than letting it heal on its own. How’s your pain, son?”

“It’s fine.”

The older man arches one thick, gray eyebrow. “Is that so?” 

Dean blinks and tries to wipe any trace of discomfort or weakness from his face. He’s not even sure why. The old doc’s nice and seems to really care. But something about being in here makes Dean revert to the steel in his bones and to the poker face John Winchester taught him. 

“I’m good, doc,” he states, pushing gravel into his voice. 

The old man’s face takes on an expression somewhere between sadness and respect. Surely, he’s seen many men like Dean pass through the prison infirmary - young, bullheaded, messed-up and hiding their pain under tattoos, a cocky swagger and an air of menace. It’s surprising that he doesn’t appear as jaded as the rest of the prison staff. Some people, Dean assumes, take longer to lose their humanity than others, even in the face of hopelessness. 

“Alright then,” the doc says. “No pain meds. Your choice. But I’m going to keep you here for observation for a couple more hours, and I would like to run an EKG, just to make sure your heart really is fine. Can’t have another inmate drop dead on me tonight for no apparent reason.”

Dean replies with an annoyed eye roll, just for show, which the doctor ignores.

“Lie down, young man.” 

While he wheels a quaint looking EKG unit closer on squeaking wheels, Dean clumsily lies down around his cuffed hand, the metal cutting into his wrist as he shifts into a halfway comfortable position. The guard doesn’t take his eyes off him, and, for good measure, Dean throws him a defiant glare. Sam may be right, Dean thinks. He really is fitting into the whole Alcatraz thing a bit too easily. 

The Damage Control Series - Masterlist

Read the whole series on AO3 here:

[all-for-geek]

Drawn to the Dark: A Nightmare to Remember Chapter 9: Vivid Hallucinations

Chapter 8

Chapter 10

Fandom: Escape the Night

Summary: The guests are so close to freedom. Will they escape, or will the madness consume them?

Warnings: Electrocution and Stabbing

Word Count: 3,568

The five remaining guests sat in the dining room, searching in vain for the motivation to keep moving. They only had two more owners to free. Which meant two more deadly challenges awaited them. Any animosity between the guests was either dead, buried, or both. They could barely stomach the thought of one of them dying. It took every shred of Oli’s willpower to open the journal and begin reading.

“Vincent Wells is a madman,” Oli began, “He sees impossible, horrifying things.”

“Sound like anyone else we know?” Joey commented. Selena glared. Perhaps there was one more person she could stomach dying.

Oli ignored him and continued. “He would stare endlessly at lightbulbs. I never knew what he saw, but it seemed like he was trying to burn holes into his eyes. His sanity may be gone, but his heart is good. He hid something in the dining room, but I was never able to find it.”

With their new task in hand, the five got up from the table and began to look around. It didn’t take long for Oli to find a box locked with a number lock, each number being matched with a color.

“The journal said that he liked to stare at the lightbulbs,” Eva pondered, “Maybe there is a clue in one.”

They continued their search around the room this time focusing on the many, many different sources of light. Selena wandered next door into the study and noticed something odd. Hadn’t that light been on the last time they were here?

She unscrewed the bulb and, sure enough, on the bottom was a number written in one of the colors on the lock. At the same time, the others found other lightbulbs with their own color and number. The guests huddled back around the box. As it opened with a click, Joey pulled out a key to a room on the second floor.

They made their way upstairs unsure of what they would find. None of them had encountered a “madman” before. Selena tried to repress the images her brain was cooking up. They weren’t going to help even if they were true.

They entered the room on the second floor and were met with an empty bed. The room was neat and tidy as if awaiting its next guest. It didn’t look like anyone lived there let alone a madman. 

They then turned to find a man in a straight jacket standing in the corner. The sight alone was enough to get LeLe to try and leave the room. He continued to face the corner as if he was unbothered by their presence. Or perhaps he was unaware of their presence.

“Hello?” Oli said.

Vincent slowly turned around to face them, but his eyes stared at something a thousand miles away.

“Vincent?” Selena tried.

The man blinked and saw the five people for the first time. His body clenched in fear.

“How are you?” he asked. “How long have you been there? Did the doctor send you? Please I promise I told him everything I know I-”

“No, no, no,” LeLe reassured, “We’re not from the doctor.”

“We’re here to help you,” Eva added.

Vincent scans them frantically until his eyes land on Selena. Whatever he saw, it seemed to calm him down enough to have a conversation.

“The house seems inviting at first,” he started, “It feels warm and safe. Like the home you never had. A place where all the things you’ve seen won’t matter, but then it catches you, and it never lets you go. It has me trapped in this jacket so that I may never escape.” 

Vincent tugs on the jacket restricting his movement. He began to mutter to himself. The guests couldn’t quite make out what he said, but he twisted and turned back and forth as if he was two people having one conversation. An urgent one.

Vincent turned back to the group. “You need to find the three keys to the straight jacket to free me. They are hidden deep in my darkest hallucinations. Out on the landing, there is an inkblot that will show you how to get there. Hurry!”

The group did not hesitate in taking his advice. They hastily made their way out of the room. All except for one.

“Selena,” Vincent called out.

Selena stopped at the doorway and faced him. “How do you know my name?”

“Be careful, Selena,” he continued, “Those like us, those drawn to the dark but born in the light, we are not destined for pleasant lives.”

“What are you tal-” Selena’s question was interrupted by Vincent's ear-piercing scream. She silently left the room. He was in no condition to answer her questions.

The others were gathered around a table by the stairs staring at a piece of paper covered in the black splotches. As she gets closer, she sees that underneath the splotches are a map of the manor and its grounds. Two marks indicated places outside the manor.

“What did he want?” Oli asked.

“I hope I never find out,” Selena muttered.

The group went back downstairs and out the door to the house. Selena felt a shiver run up her spine as she crossed the threshold. 

The guests find themselves at the greenhouse. The dense, humid air inside clung to their skin just as it did the plants. They quickly began to search around for anything that could be hiding a key or a clue. There was a clipboard sitting on the lip of one of the planters, but it was just a series of diagrams showing plant classifications.

Joey reached into the dirt to look underneath a nearby rock. As his fingers slipped through two eye sockets, he realized what it actually was. He yelped and quickly dropped the skull.

Over on the other side of the greenhouse, Oli and Selena spot a leather-bound journal sitting by a stool. As Oli goes to pick it, Selena's eyes are drawn to the paper-thin walls. There was not much light inside, but there was enough to see. And enough to illuminate the lumbering shadow getting larger.

“Look out!” she shouts as she pulls Oli away from the wall. A second later, a decaying husk of a man’s arm smashes through the wall and swipes at the spot where Oli used to be. The zombie growled at them as it tried in vain to catch its prey.

“Thanks,” he whispered. Selena nodded.

The group gathered in the center as Oli read the journal. It was of a scientist working to combine plant and animal matter into some kind of swamp man. His first attempt failed, resulting in a mindless creature only desiring destruction. The zombie outside groaned louder.

He had managed to perfect his formula by burying the body parts in specific dirt and then combining it with the plants. The guests once again ran around the greenhouse, searching for the right plants and all the body parts that they needed. None of them were sure if it was a good idea. They had no idea if this swamp man creature would help, try to kill them, or what, but it was the closest thing to a clue they had. 

It took a minute to find all the body parts, mostly because nobody wanted to touch them. LeLe ended up searching for them the most while everyone else focused on finding the right plants. They weren’t sure how much they needed, so they just kept piling everything onto a nearby compost pile until a massive creature bursted out of it. 

The guests didn’t think twice before they started running. The Swamp Man followed them out of the greenhouse. They had made it onto the path before they noticed the sounds of a struggle. They turned back towards the greenhouse to see the zombie fighting the Swamp Man. Well, fighting was a kind way of putting it. The zombie was no match against the Swamp Man’s sheer size and strength. It didn’t take long before the zombie was on the ground, and the Swamp Man was carrying its body off to who knows where. 

The guests erupted in cheer. It was a rare moment of victory for them that night. Joey noticed something gleaming on the ground near where the fight had broken out and led them back into the grass. Sure enough, there was a key lying where the zombie had once been.

They pulled back out the map and followed it to the next hallucination. The field around them morphed and grew into a forested clearing covered in rocks and trees. In the darkness, many trees bulged in the center as the guests found themselves staring into masks of many different shapes and sizes. 

They paused near the center of the clearing where a woman was standing in a circle of rocks covered by more masks. Her own face was concealed with a fencing mask. She simply stood there, giving no indication of if she had any idea they were there, but none of them wanted to test it given she was holding a katana in her hand. 

A plaque was carved into the trees giving them their instructions. They had to find 5 specific masks by solving 5 riddles. Finding the right mask will reveal the next riddle. If they pick the wrong one, the woman will attack them. There was a pile of burlap sacks in a pile next to the tree that kept them protected from the woman and basically acted as an extra life. 

The first riddle was ‘the demon that is dreaming’. The guests spread out around the clearing. None of them were quite sure what the riddle meant by dreaming. LeLe suggested a very colorful mask. Eva seemed drawn to one that she insisted looked like the moon. They kept going back and forth between that one and a black one Joey had found. With the same accuracy as a coin toss, they tried Joey’s. Unfortunately, they chose tails.

“Shit,” Joey whispered as the woman approached them.

They quickly pulled the burlap sack over their heads. Selena closed her eyes, not that she could anything through the sack if they were open. She could hear the footsteps of the woman getting closer, and prayed to whatever would listen that she wasn’t picked.

The cold night air flew into Selena’s face. She sighed as she opened her eyes, revealing what she already knew. The woman was standing back where she had been before with Selena’s sack at her feet.

“Great,” Selena muttered to herself. She yanked the mask that Eva was suggesting of the tree. It was the right one.

“Music plays, the dancer grows, spot me with a liar’s nose,” she read off the inside of the mask.

Luckily this one was easier to spot. A mask covered in music notes with a long, pointed nose was laying on a nearby rock. As they picked it up, LeLe grabbed Selena’s arm.

“Hey, look I’m gonna be nice for the first time tonight,” she said, extending her own bag out for Selena.

“Thanks, but you keep it.” It was a nice gesture, but whoever got taken at this stage didn’t really matter. They only seemed to be in actual danger at the voting challenges.

“Okay,” LeLe shrugged. She walked over to the rest of the group.

Forged in hate, I am the vessel of your nightmares. The protector of your fears. That was the next riddle. Selena spotted a mask blending in with the rocks on the other side of the clearing. It was gray, and rough, and almost resembled armored plating. She turned it over to find the next riddle. 

As you burn in the depths of hell, demons will spread your ashes. Charming. The guests searched the clearing, once again reaching a 50/50 split on which mask they thought it was. Selena swallowed. She volunteered to choose the mask. At least that way, whatever happened, she had no one to blame for herself.

Selena stared at the smooth, blank interior of the mask. She groaned as the woman approached her again. She didn’t know what was going to happen now, but she didn’t like the way the katana gleamed in the moonlight. 

The woman pierced Selena in her stomach. For a brief moment, Selena felt hot, scorching pain. Then, she felt nothing.

She was floating. Or was she standing? She walked around the darkness as if she was walking through a room, but she couldn’t feel anything underneath her. 

Selena instinctively reached for where she had been stabbed. Nothing. Not even a cut in the fabric. She sighed. It was just a hallucination, but everything felt so real. Is this how Vincent felt?

Something shifted in the darkness. Selena felt it more than she saw it. A presence that dwarfed her own, nearly suffocating her with its power. The darkness swirled and undulated like waves in the ocean.

“Hello, Selena,” a deep, old voice said, “I have been waiting to see you for a very long time.”

Selena could barely open her mouth to speak. Her mouth was dry as she tried to form words. 

“W-who are you?” she finally asked. “How do you know who I am?”

The voice chuckled. “All in good time, little albatross. I have great plans for you.”

Selena felt the wind get knocked out of her as she fell onto solid ground. She fell to her knees, touching the grass as if it were made of gold. Selena never wanted to think about that creature ever again, even as it consumed more and more of her mind.

Selena heard a shot come from her right. She turned to see LeLe standing in front of her. Her eyes were wide, but LeLe quickly regained her composure.

“Selena, oh my god!” she shouted. “We finished the riddles, but the last one was for that chick’s masks, and we got it, but she started chasing us, and-”

LeLe was cut off by the shouts of the other guests echoing across the yard. LeLe ran to meet with them with Selena not far behind. Selena couldn’t help but wonder if LeLe saw the darkness like she had.

The two ran back into the lounge to find the others standing in the middle of the room, out of breath but none the worse for wear. Oli ran over to Selena and put his hands on her shoulders protectively as he scanned her body.

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

“I’m not any worse,” Selena answered. She didn’t want to mention the creature living in the dark. She never wanted to even think about it again. “I’ll take that as a win.”

Oli nodded and turned back towards Joey and Eva. Eva held the fencing mask the woman in the clearing had been wearing in her hands. She fiddled with the inside as a key and a note fell out of the netting. 

The note explained that the final key was found in Vincent’s most vivid hallucination. Unlike the others, this one would have deadly consequences. It would require a vote, and challengers would need to pick a partner of the opposite gender. The guests sighed. They knew this was inevitable, but it didn’t make it any easier.

“Guys, I don’t want to vote for anyone,” Joey said, “I don’t want to see anyone left die.”

“Yeah,” LeLe agreed. “I mean, at this point, I would probably rather vote for myself.”

They looked at each other. There was an idea. It would mean that they all had an equal chance of being in the challenge, of dying, but at least their consciences would be clean.

Each guest walked up and placed their own name into Arthur’s hat. As he shuffled the names, everyone clasped their hands together. 

“Selena,” Arthur announced. She barely registered Oli squeezing her hand in comfort. 

“And LeLe. Selena, since your name was drawn first, you will choose your partner first.”

“Oli,” she answered immediately. Even if it hadn’t been for the odd rules of the challenge, it would have been her choice. There was no one in that house that she trusted more.

LeLe tried to hide the face she was making as Joey squeezed her shoulder. Selena registered that by picking Oli, she had left LeLe with Joey. She didn’t know whether to feel optimistic about her chances or devastated at her friend’s.

The guests journey down into the basement, hopefully for the last time. LeLe and Eva held each other closely as they descended. They remembered what happened the last time they were down there. That first challenge seemed so long ago yet was rushing back at the same time.

They were not the only ones with sour memories. Selena walked the same steps she had descended in that horrible nightmare she had when this whole mess started. She knew now that it was more than a nightmare. It had to be. She steeled herself for what was going to happen at the bottom of the stairs. 

The ungodly machine was no longer in the basement. As the walls flickered and changed, two wooden chairs came into view. Wires and electrical lines were connected to the restraints of the arms of the chairs. Selena’s heart stopped. 

Selena and LeLe were to be hooked up to the electric chairs. Oli and Joey were going to have to play a game of demented ring toss to determine which one would make it out of the room alive. Each failed throw would result in another shock.

Eva helped Selena and LeLe get into their chairs. She made sure that the restraints were only as tight as they needed to be. There was a helplessness in her eyes that filled Selena with so much rage. None of them deserved this.

Oli and Joey lined themselves up to begin. The shocks probably weren’t going to be too bad, right? Selena rememberd getting shocked by the electrical sockets in her house once or twice as a child. It was more uncomfortable than-

She was wrong. She was so so so wrong. The first jolt of electricity sent her whole spine on edge. A scream escaped her lips of its own accord. LeLe responded in kind. 

More and more rings were thrown, and more and more rings missed. The pulsing white pain seared through Selena’s entire body. She relished the brief reprieves when Oli got a ring to land properly. Or maybe he was just grabbing more rings. She couldn’t tell. All she was aware of was the pain.

This was it. She was going to die. Selena could taste the blood in her mouth mixing with the tears rushing down her face. It hurt so much. Selena’s body twitched uncontrollably. A loud scream pierced the night.

Selena’s heart continued to pound even as the shocks stopped. The restraints were thrown off her wrists, and someone gently grabbed her shoulders. Selena picked up a voice calling her name through all the ringing. Slowly, her vision returned, and she was face to face with Oli. His concern immediately melted into relief. 

“Can you walk?” he asked.

She saw LeLe’s limp body sitting next to her out of the corner of her eye. The air stung with the smell of burnt flesh. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

Selena stood slowly and shakily. Her legs begged for rest, crumbling like jelly more than once. She had to rely on Oli to get up the stairs, but it didn’t matter. She refused to spend one more godforsaken moment in that basement.

The four returned to Vincent’s room, keys in hand. The madman was still standing in the same corner. It was unclear if he had even moved since they left.

“Vincent, we have the keys,” Joey announced.

Vincent’s eyes grew wide. “Don’t tease me,” he pleaded. Still, he turned around in the vain hope that he would receive his freedom.

Once all the keys were unlocked, Vincent shook the straight jacket off and threw it on the ground. He moved his arms slowly, working out the years-long stiffness that resided within. He turned back to them with a clarity in his eyes that had not been there before.

“Thank you,” he whispered. He walked over to Selena and gently placed something in her hand. “I have seen glimpses of your path, and I’m afraid that there is farther down the tunnel to go. Hopefully, this will do you more good than it did me.”

Selena felt the cold circular metal in her hand. The engravings on the outside were thin and intricate. She felt the button to the watch, but Vincent stopped her hand before she could open it, giving her a knowing smile. He then looked up, passed Selena, and his eyes hardened.

“I tried to warn you,” Vincent started. “I tried to warn you. The owner of this house is a monster!”

The guests gasped. Oli, Eva, and Selena turn to Joey, fearing that all their suspicions had been confirmed. But only Joey was following Vincent’s line of sight to the glaring butler standing behind them. 

Arthur stomped forward, towering over Vincent. “That’s enough!” he shouted.

“You don’t control me anymore,” Vincent remarked with a smirk. He turned his attention back to guests. “If I were you, I’d run.”

They didn’t need to be told twice.

[bookofkatherine]

Ding Dong That Lilith Bitch is Dead #3

Katherine discovers the Enemy has variants too! Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Saturday September 7, 2024 9:16 a.m.

Dear Journal,

Well, that bitch wasn't dead like I thought. While watching LOKI again last week (it was the only way to teach John and Zach about my history with the Knights) I was suddenly struck with a terrifying thought:

What if Lilith has variants left too!? Or worse, the devil!? What if there was more than one variant of Satan!?!?

Holy shit.

I nearly peed myself at the thought. How could I have been so blind!? How could I have checked for and rescued two Thor variants, two Loki variants, one Gray Man variant and killed off several evil Lokis, one evil Cap and two evil Gustaf variants... without ever considering the possibility that our Enemy could have variants too!?

Why in the world did I check for my own team's variants, but not for any of Satan's!?

Well, I know the answer. And it isn't pretty. The reason worries me more than the problem: I didn't want such a reality to be true.

I didn't want Satan to have more than one variant. I didn't think it was fair or right. I didn't want there to be other Lilith's out there.

And that, my dear Journal, is the Consequences of Belief fallacy: I didn't want it to be true, so I believed it wasn't.

And fallacies are failures in logic. Shit. That's not a good thing when you have as much power and are in charge of as much shit as I am.

Get it together girl!!!

Anyhow, it took watching LOKI again with my long lost son Zach to face the awful possibilities - because I wanted Zach to live. I needed him to live. And that was it. I admitted the truth.

There could be as many as 899 more Satan variants. And as many as 899 more Lilith variants. I knew that so many were unlikely. But still - this is the devil we're talking about.

It was time to check.

I immediately texted the team. Thank God they replied pretty quickly:

No Satan variants.

Two Lilith variants.

Fuuuuuuuuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

_

You don't have to worry, dear Journal, both Lilith variants are dead now. And you're right- Claire had back great news: wonderful news! No variants of Satan existed and only two variants of Lilith were around.

But... killing only one Lilith when there are really three of her!? Well, that's like stirring a hornet's nest!!! Women are already uniquely vicious and creative when feeling vindictive.

And right after killing the first Lilith and her magic spider I suddenly found spiders everywhere. They were inside the house. Outside the house. On my front door even.

Threats were being delivered. Something knew where I lived. But what.....?

Now I knew. Shit.

What had Cap and I done!?

_

In the end, all it took to kill the second and third Lilith variants was a wave of my hand.

"Lord, what do you want me to do about the Lilith variants?" I asked at the next Order meeting. "Wait," He said. "Don't worry about it now."

Oh Okay.

It was days later, when I was already on the road for a huge mission that required my own attendance, that He finally let me do something about them.

We were driving along the highway, and I could feel a horrible disturbance in the universe. I didn't recognize the scent, however. And I couldn't see its shape, either.

After so many years, I've learned what certain disturbances feel, look and taste like. The worst one is when a team member is about to die. That feels like I'm being electrocuted.

Witches? They leave a scorching burn. The Earth coming apart? It feels like a great sliding dread. Demon attack? A giant stabbing. On and on, I know Satan's greatest hits. When they flood the line, I know where to start looking.

But I didn't recognize this evil.

Hm... I thought a bit. What would feel this dark? What would be both unfamiliar and uber dark? And then I remembered the Lilith variants.

"Lord!?" I cried out. "Is it the Lilith variants?"

"Yes," He replied. And relief flooded through me. I hate it when a disturbance in the multiverse isn't defined. It hurts like hell. Being Eternity can really suck sometimes.

"Can I please kill them now!?!?!?" I begged the Lord.

"Yes." And He smiled His knowing smile. He knew I was going to be happy about this. And He was right.

Hot diggity dog!!!

But wait- I was on the road. How the hell was I supposed to kill them? It took a lot of time with Cap to kill the first Lilith. A lot of time in bed - and I wasn't in bed, was I?

And then, a delicious thought popped into my head.

"Can I do it myself? Now?" I asked the Lord, with a ton of hope in my voice.

"Yep!"

Oh baby. Oh baby. These are my favorite kills. Thank you Jesus!!! I closed my eyes, leaned back, relaxed and allowed my intuition and awareness to roam freely. Think Obi Wan Kenobi. Or Professor X, but without the helmet. I don't need one of those to feel where all life in the multiverse is. It's keeping all of their locations out that's the real trick.

Feeling all of reality can drive a person mad.

_

In seconds I knew where the two Lilith's were. And then I erased them. Just like that.

Gone.

_

If only that were where it ended.

I forgot.

They have pets.

Whereas the first Lilith had a magic spider, the second Lilith had a magic scorpion and the third Lilith had a magic squid.

And I fucked up big time by not feeling them out too and locking onto all four of them to erase. And I do mean, I fucked up big time.

Almost immediately, the scorpion attacked my throat in the Dreamworld. That was its design: take down whoever attacked its mommy. And I had done more than attack its mommy. I'd completely obliterated her.

The squid went for my head, but by then I had a lock on them. I started to kill them, but it was too late. They were extremely powerful - only second in command to Satan himself.

In fact, just writing about it is making my throat hurt and throb with the traumatic memory of that damn scorpions tail and sting...

_

"What do I do!? I can't get them out!? Do I get Cap!? Lord!???" I cried out as I tried to erase the evil scorpion and squid, grasping at my throat. I could only erase parts, but not all. And I began to thrash as a result.

"Yes - get Cap," the Lord replied.

"CAP!!!!" I screamed.

And he was there. He reached his hand out, immediately clutched my throat, neck and base of my skull gently with one large hand and said, "Here - let's do it together..." in that calming, soothing and goddamn sexy voice that only Cap has. Relief at his presence immediately washed over me.

I knew the demons were about to be toast.

_

I closed my eyes and drifted into the Dreamworld fully. My power glowed stronger with Cap's support and added presence. And I let our combined powers wash over me - around and through my head and neck, erasing the demon squid and scorpion completely.

All that was left was a painful memory. And I'm not used to that. I'm usually very careful. Being on the road has made me a bit sloppy.

But I didn't care.

I looked up at Cap and smiled weakly. "Thank you, Cap." And he smiled down at meet with that brilliant loving smile of his that's only ever meant for me, and then - as it often does - it turned devilishly playful. He was thinking about kissing me while grabbing my hair in his hand, its silky tendrils tangled in his fingers.

I know that's what he was thinking. I could read his mind. Being Eternity does have some perks. ;)

_

Ding dong. All three Lilith bitches are dead. And their little demon pets too! 🎉

[fractualized]

Joker In the Lonely City

(or: hey now that I’ve written this can I sustain focus on anything else)

Obviously, Catwoman: Lonely City revolves around Selina Kyle, not the Joker, but thanks to Cliff Chiang's writing and my personal fixations, Joker is who I am compelled to write about. As the book's title tells you, the overall story is about loneliness and the ability to find connection with others, and I appreciate that Chiang extends that theme from the lead character to the side characters, including Harvey, Croc, Eddie, Ivy, and yes, even the awful terrible paragon of evil, Joker.

[WARNING: discussions of suicide and suicidal ideation below the cut, as well as spoilers]

I don't mean to imply that Joker gets a full arc in Lonely City; he only appears in two flashback scenes. However, we see loneliness in him as well, starting in Issue #2. On the big screen in Gotham Square, Joker announces the culmination of his ongoing social media campaign, which has been encouraging people to be their worst selves. He deems that evening Fool's Night, and before he unleashes his followers on their fellow citizens, he reaches out to them with a show of empathy:

Ah, that familiar villain tactic: manipulating people with the truth about themselves. Many of us want to be free from shame and judgment, but Joker's taken the anger and bitterness that accompany those feelings and convinced his fools to shuck off all of society's norms and rules to commit wanton violence. Part of the manipulation is professing that he's felt their same pain, and when he puts on his smile and dons the role of villain, he's erasing his vulnerability.

The way I've seen other writers portray Joker, they would take that empathy as nothing but a flat-out lie. And for the most part, that's not wrong. Outside of his own machinations, Joker wouldn't give any of his followers the time of day, and he certainly doesn't give a shit about the victims of the chaos he's created. He's not a good person! So why reflect further on Joker's inner self? What are you looking for, digging around in that rot?

Thankfully, Chiang is willing to see what's buried in there, as shown in Lonely City #4. When we return to Fool's Night in that issue, the reader may not realize something is off right away. It's a familiar scene: Joker presenting Batman with an impossible choice.

The way that last panel is framed, cuing that this is the first time Joker's used Bruce's real name, is one of several indicators that Lonely City is a universe unto itself, outside the main comics timeline. It also indicates that Fool's Night is a significant event for Joker. You don't just reveal you know your nemesis's secret identity all willy-nilly. Where's the showmanship in that?

But that's not what I'm referring to when I say something is off. What I mean is that there's no dialogue about the dynamite strapped around Joker's torso and the timer ticking down in his boutonnière.

Maybe it's supposed to be an incentive for Bruce to make a decision quickly? The signal can't appear if it's blown up, after all. But we get no extra information about the explosive cummerbund; after this single page, the story goes back to the present, and when we return to the flashback, we've skipped ahead in the action.

We learn that Joker has played a horrible trick. It appears that Bruce tried removing the cables that would electrocute Gordon, so that when the signal turned on, the Commissioner would be safe and the fools in the street would stop— but those cables were fake, and the signal is charred and smoking, its broken glass on the blacktop. Gordon's body sags in its bindings. And then, well...

Joker mocks Bruce for missing his joke, for operating by the parameters Joker set, because Bruce still doesn't see that there are no real rules to follow. Joker says what he's said to Batman time and time again over the course of twenty years— "it's all one big joke"— and Batman still doesn't get it. Two decades of this, and Batman can't give up on rules, control, an inherent value to life, and Joker didn't give up either— until now. In his last words, he admits that the meaninglessness he's thrived on has left him intolerably empty. The smile and the laughter have never erased his vulnerability, just hidden it away.

And so Joker commits murder-suicide. The explosion does not seem like an accident or afterthought. It seems like part of the plan. Joker drew Bruce to the rooftop, arranged Gordon's death knowing that Bruce would retaliate, and grabbed onto Bruce to keep him in the blast zone. Joker never points out the belt bomb as something else to disable, even though it's clearly there. He never taunts that Batman will save his life like so many times before. Instead, with one second left, Joker holds Bruce close and exposes his vulnerability, in a way I'm not sure we've seen from him since The Killing Joke, not voluntarily.

Taking Bruce down with him aligns with how Joker sees their relationship. A recent post by @gigachad-joker​ with a contribution from @distort-opia​ gives a good overview. Joker sees himself and Batman as inextricably intertwined, as the only real people in the world. When Batman is gone, Joker is portrayed as adrift. When Batman reappears, Joker feels compelled to return.

But Joker knows that his own absence would not affect Bruce in the same way. Batman's priority is always Gotham City. If Joker were to kill himself alone, ultimately Batman would go on without him, and that's not a thought Joker can stand. The two of them are locked in a violent philosophical battle that is supposed to end in a grand finale that rocks the city. If Joker is going to bring the curtain down on that fight, he's not going to take his bow alone.

That's why Joker fits into Lonely City's motif. The only meaningful connection Joker has made is his adversarial relationship with Batman. Once the apathy of the universe is no longer a source of strength but a reason for despair, Joker has nothing to fall back on. He still believes nothing matters, so he can't align himself with Batman, and he's rendered himself incapable of connecting with anyone else. Unlike the other rogues in the story, Joker has no hope of moving on and building a new life. He only sees an end.

But that can’t be what Bruce sees, can it? What the hell is Bruce thinking when he attacks Joker on that roof? Again, Joker is not hiding the suicide belt or the timer. The timer audibly beeps, and Bruce cannot miss how few seconds are left. Maybe he thinks this bomb is fake, like the cables and the bang-flag gun. Joker's declared many times that he prefers Batman alive so they can keep playing their game. Yet in that last moment, when Joker reveals the game is over, Bruce's expression looks laughably unconcerned.

But then, desensitized people often seem unconcerned. Not only is Gordon most likely dead, but recently Bruce also lost Alfred. The reader first learns that Alfred passed in his sleep shortly after full remission of cancer, but Issue #4 reveals that the cure was the "Orpheus" Bruce mentions in his last words to Selina. In the hopes of saving Alfred, Bruce combined the Lazarus Pit solution with Bane's venom, and found the two substances cancelled out each other's adverse effects— but the Orpheus Pit's miraculous restoration is brief, and after a week Alfred died anyway.

After all the incredible challenges Bruce overcame, after all the skills he learned and honed to become unbeatable, no matter his efforts, he couldn't save Alfred.

Like Joker, Bruce is tired. We see it before Fool's Night begins:

It's hard to say if Bruce is ever in a good place mentally, but he clearly has loss on his mind, even the loss of things that haven't happened:

Bruce absolutely still wants to fight for Gotham. We know this because when he lays dying in the blast zone, he begs Selina to get him to the Orpheus Pit. It will only give him a few days, but he'll use any time he has to save the city. His dedication is unending.

But it can falter, and Bruce has had moments of self-destruction. So when he knows Joker has a bomb and still goes after him with his fists, when Joker clings to him with that grave expression and Bruce doesn't even look panicked, it seems like for a moment, just a moment, Bruce thought about the peace of letting it all end.

Wouldn't Joker have been pleased to know that for once they were simpatico?

[phoenixyfriend]

Vader Tries to Help

People encouraged me to share the dead dove concept! Yay! It’s a horrible concept with an undertone of comedic absurdity in the sense that you keep waiting to see what awful, incredibly stupid thing Vader is going to do next. Like it’s horrifying but it’s also very dumb.

By moving forward into the fic, you acknowledge that this is intended to be dark and liable to be upsetting, and that you are taking responsibility for your own engagement with the material.

This AU was helped along on discord by several parties but tbh I’m not sure how many of them actually want to be named.

Warnings: Mutual Extremely Dubious Consent (forced by a third party), drugging, irrational behavior (Vader), nonconsensual body modification, forced pregnancy, imprisonment, threatened torture of a child (not followed through on)

----------

Vader captures Obi-Wan a few years into the Empire. Because Vader is Anakin, but even worse on the emotional bullshit, he decides that he needs to keep Obi-Wan safe but harmless. Vader also got Luke in the whole 'capturing Kenobi' situation, so part of what Vader's thinking about all this is that Obi-Wan tried to protect The Baby and so Vader kind of owes him, obviously.

Palpatine lets him keep Obi-Wan "safe," because threatening Obi-Wan is a convenient way to make Vader shut up and do what he's told. Palpatine can kind of tell that threatening the toddler would make Vader lose his shit and attempt to kill good ol' Palps, so threatening the middle-aged depressed alcoholic being kept in Vader's guest room with Force-nullifying cuffs is pretty good. It's an additional layer of emotional torture on top of the electrocution of Vader himself!

Vader has Obi-Wan taking care of Luke, mostly, because Vader has Obligations and A Job, and Obi-Wan wouldn't hurt Luke, duh. He might try to escape with the kid, but he won't be successful, and Obi-Wan will definitely put Luke's safety first, so that probably won't happen.

This is all fairly normal for a variety of AUs, granted, and not very dark.

But see, Obi-Wan behaves. He's aware of how tenuous the situation is for him and his charge, so he plays nice. And Vader decides to reward that.

By giving him Cody.

There's an implied thought process there that Obi-Wan was fond of Cody, and Cody was fond back, and now that the Jedi aren't around, they can follow through instead of worrying about some silly Code. Vader's nullified the orders to kill all the Jedi, of course, possibly dosed their food with an aphrodisiac so they don't try to talk themselves out of What They Obviously Want.

Now, we’re going to make it a little darker, because why not make things worse by having Vader try to make things better?

Vader somehow twisted himself around to encouraging them to have a baby. This is accomplished through a combination of Sith Magic and nonconsensual surgery, and lots of questionable drugs.

Obi-Wan just wakes up in a hospital bed with a womb one morning, and is informed of the surgery then and there, after it’s already happened. The droid telling him about it is just like "in the Lord Vader's infinite kindness--" and Obi-Wan just.

Anakin.

What the fuck.

What in the actual fuck made you think this was a good idea.

(The Sith Chemicals, probably.)

I feel like Palpatine would maybe even order the pregnancy induction just to torture them by proxy because that's like eight levels of Fuck No and he barely has to do anything except tell Vader that he'd like to see what kind of children a Jedi Master like Obi-Wan has.

Luke needs friends, doesn't he?

Obi-Wan is having some very complicated emotions about all of this because Vader is, in his own absolutely insane way, trying to help.

Anakin wanted babies and Padme wanted babies so clearly, if Obi-Wan and Cody are in love, then they also want babies!

Cody and Obi-Wan very well might not be in love. Anakin definitely could have misinterpreted. It’s probably more angsty if they're just friends who ended up in this bullshit together.

(He's taking baby fever to new and somewhat horrifying heights, because... he would adore Obi's kids.)

(His family button is suprisingly large for a mass murderer.)

Vader Kindly Informs Bail That Obi-Wan Is Alive And Unharmed. Bail was a friend of Obi-Wan's, telling him this is only helpful and will keep Alderaan from getting more rebellious out of personal insult. Obviously.

Vader is almost offended when Bail implies he might hurt Obi-Wan. He kept his son safe, he owes him. Speaking of, don’t you have a child? How old is she, again? It would be Good for her to make friends, wouldn’t it? :)

Palpatine is just like... sitting back and eating evil popcorn as Vader runs around, ruining people's lives by trying to be less of The Worst than before.

Palps barely has to do anything, Anakin's fucking it up on his own!

Could have been just a sly "Kenobi is so attached to young Luke, but now that you've been reunited with your son, perhaps he'd be happier with a child of his own?" Come at it from both "make Obi-Wan happy" and "protect your relationship with Luke" angles.

Vader: I can't have babies anymore due to what you did to me on Mustafar. Obi-Wan: So you're punishing me by forcing me to have them instead? Vader: No! Children are a gift that you have been cruelly denied by the Order that held us in its chains! Obi-Wan: ...oh, right, you're insane. Forgot about that. Somehow.

Big dramatic speech about how the Jedi Order spent so long making them take lives, he’s giving Obi-Wan a chance to create it! To put something good and bright into the world!

Poor Cody is like. "General, I am very fond of you but I'm having a million panic attacks at the same time because of the mind control, and also Vader is under the impression that we're in love and I need to be your stud? I wasn't aware you could have children--" "I can't. Or at least, I couldn't, but Anakin is... creative." "...what."

I don't want to actually objectify Cody in the narrative past the point that Obi-Wan himself is, because nnnnngh racism and clone stuff, so I'm going to say Cody was in love with Obi-Wan, and would have been okay with at least discussing the whole baby schtick if not for the absolutely horrible circumstances.

Like if the war had ended normally, and Obi-Wan had expressed a desire to retire, unlikely as that was, then Cody may have suggested a dinner, and they could have gotten married and then eventually adoption...

(Cody had a lot of fantasies he didn’t let himself think about too hard.)

But no. It's this... weird Vader-inspired bullshit.

I'm just so invested in Vader trying to help but making things legitimately a million times worse.

He wants to help :) Oh god, he wants to help.

Why aren't people more appreciative of how hard I'm helping them? - the Anakin Skywalker story

With less time to stew and also getting handed what he wants, Vader could absolutely flip on a dime the second he saw Luke being protected, and go from “I hate you” to remembering that Obi-Wan said he loved him, and now he must keep Obi-Wan safe out of debt and he just... he’s playing house. 

Vader throws Obi-Wan a baby shower after the pregnancy is confirmed. Bail is invited, because Obi-Wan doesn't have a lot of friends still alive. Vader decides Bail is top of the Obi-Wan’s Friends List.

This is the first time they've seen each other in two years. Obi-Wan is heavily pregnant despite Bail knowing full well he didn't have the plumbing for that before the Empire rose. Cody is there and emotionally exhausted but more lucid than most troopers. Luke is running up to Leia because New Friend!!!

....there may be MORE of the 212th and 501st at the baby shower, with “kill all Jedi” orders revoked, of course. But it will keep the children safe!! And Cody and Obi-Wan can see their surviving friends!!

Cody: I'd be much happier to see my surviving troopers if they didn't all still have chips in their heads. Obi-Wan: I feel much the same. Vader: [404 error]

Bail and his family might be there at blaster point, but aren't you happy to see them, Obi-Wan??

Obi-Wan's endless trauma is honestly somewhat curtailed by the incessant need to facepalm at Vader’s bullshit

Obi-Wan and Cody both outwardly have a very "there are much worse people I could be stuck with in this situation but obviously I wish I'd had a choice, no hard feelings" attitude at each other.

Internally, Cody is suffering because this is NOT how he wanted his crush to be realized, and Obi-Wan is just suffering, period.

Cody: How did he even choose which of us ends up pregnant? Obi-Wan: He thinks I need to be protected, and that he needs to keep me safe. Cody: ...he does realize that you're better at-- Obi-Wan: Cody, he's completely lost it. No! He doesn't realize!

I feel like over the course of the year or two this plot unravels towards Palpatine getting murder-deposed and Anakin getting locked down, part of the driving force to Vader not being Vader anymore is that Luke actually really loves Uncle Obi and always starts fussing and going "Ben's sad" whenever Vader dismisses what Obi-Wan wants in favor of what Vader thinks Obi-Wan wants, and Vader can't deny his child anything.

Luke cries because Palpatine Feels Wrong like, once or twice, and Anakin goes “oh, okay, assassination time.”

[squiggledrop]

Trust - Spencer Reid x Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Spencer and Reader have been dating for two months, and haven't done anything more than kiss. But, when Reader has to go undercover in a revealing outfit, Spencer finds Reader hard to resist.

Word Count: 5.2k

Pairings: Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: Smut, Angst, Fluff (NSFW, 18+)

Warnings: Swearing, Sex (oral and penetration), Mentions of Sexual Assault, Crying, Guns, Shooting

You and Spencer had been dating for two months. It had been the most amazing two months of your life, but also the most sexually frustrating. Your nights consisted of heated make-out sessions followed by lots and lots of cuddling. Spencer was the first guy you dated that didn’t try and get in your pants on the first date, which was something you admired about him. However, his gentle and caring demeanor, one of that many reasons you fell in love with him, was starting to become the bane of your existence. Whenever you tried to have him move his hands away from their respectful, stationary position on your fully clothed waist, he would tense up. This broke your heart because the last thing you wanted to do was make your amazing, but insecurity-ridden, boyfriend uncomfortable.

You knew it wasn’t due to him not finding you appealing in that way because multiple times when he hadn’t heard you come home, you could hear him moaning your name through the sounds of water falling on his bare chest in the shower. One time you got up the courage to creak the door open and ask him if he wanted you to join him, but you were quickly met with him coughing, trying to cover up his previous activities, and saying that he was just washing off the last of the soap. He never mentioned what happened, and you respected his wishes of not questioning him about it any further. 

You wanted to feel his touch all over your body and for him to completely devour you, but you loved this man so much, that you would be willing to wait as long as he needed. The two of you had decided to take things slow when you first started dating, you just didn’t realize slow for Spencer Reid would be this agonizingly slow. 

That is why, when, for the first time since you had started dating, you had friction on your crotch that wasn’t just your own hand, and both your phones rang, you actually wanted to scream. That night, you and Spencer were having one of your usual kissing sessions in bed- which you wouldn’t trade for the world- when he pulled you onto his lap, therefore causing him to move his hands off your waist and grab your thighs, the tops of his fingers grazing your butt cheeks. Your heart raced at the feeling, causing you to moan even more into the kiss. Spencer smirked at the reaction he elicited from you and gripped your hips with even more fervor. Not wanting to overwhelm him, you began to gently rock your hips against him. You could feel the already formed bulge in his pants begin to grow, which you took as a sign to move with more purpose. The pleasure you felt was immeasurable, and you thought you might cry at how good the man you loved with your whole heart was making you feel. Just as Spencer let out the moans he had been holding back, your heart sank. He quickly jumped out from under you, and you could see the realization of what just happened wash over his face as he answered his phone. You sighed and reached for your own, dreading the sound of Hotch’s voice saying you were needed.

The two of you got ready in silence, not sure what to say about what had just happened. Spencer’s silence worried you, but when he grabbed your hand and kissed your head as you finished locking the front door, you knew everything would be okay because you had your goofy, loving Spencer by your side.

Garcia delivered the case, relaying that the unsub was killing prostitutes in Las Vegas. When the team arrived, you and Spencer were sent to set up at the local police precinct to get started on the geographical profile. After two days and two more bodies, the team had figured out who the unsub was and where he would be striking that night. 

“Alright, to catch him, we will need to go undercover so he’ll bring himself to us. (Y/l/n), you match his type and will be our best shot, are you okay doing this?”, Hotch said. Spencer looked up, a mixture of anger and terror violently swirling in his eyes.

“Of course”, you replied, gaining an even more intense look from Spencer.

“JJ and I will help you get ready”, Emily said.

“Alright, let’s get to work”, Hotch said. As everyone got up, you began to walk towards JJ and Emily when you felt a tug on your wrist. You turned around in confusion, only to be met by the piercingly concerned eyes of your boyfriend.

“Can we talk?” Spencer whispered in a gentle tone that juxtaposed his facial expression.

“Yeah, sure”, you replied and gave Emily and JJ a glance before Spencer took me into the empty file room next door.

“Is everything o-”

“Please don’t do this”, he interrupted with pleading eyes.

“Spencer, its just work. It’s no different than any other time we have to go undercover”, you reassured him. His eyes traced your body before he met your gaze and bit his lip.

“I just- This guy is dangerous (y/n). I don’t want you to get hurt.” Knowing this wasn’t the full story, you raised your eyebrows and gave a knowing look. When he still wouldn’t confess to what this really was about you sighed before continuing.

“Spence, we deal with guys like this all the time, I can handle myself and you and the rest of the team will be right there, and if that’s all, I really have to go get ready”, you said, glancing up at the clock above the door. Just as you were about to leave, you heard indistinguishable mumbles coming out of Spencer’s mouth. “Huh?”, you questioned.

“I...I don’t want you out there for any guy, especially this guy, just-just as something they feel they have the right to touch”, your eyes softened as you gave him a small smile and grabbed his hand with both of yours. You opened your mouth, but before you could say anything to relieve his anxieties, he said, “I just don’t want to see you get hurt again”. At this, you knew he was no longer talking about the case, and everything began to make sense. 

---

Before you and Spencer were dating, you had gone on a date with a guy you met at a coffee shop. You had said hello to each other a few mornings in a row, and on the fourth day he asked you out. At first, you were reluctant because you had a massive crush on Spencer, but you decided you couldn’t just pine for him forever, so you agreed. That night, Spencer had received a call from you in tears, causing his heart to clench at the thought of you so upset. He came and picked you up on some random street corner and you got in, flashing him a small tear-stained smile as thanks for getting you. When you finally got back to your apartment, he parked the car and broke the silence.

“(Y/n), you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, and I don’t want to pry into your personal life”, at this you took in a sharp breath, trying hold back your tears, “but, I really need to know what happened so I can help you, okay?” He had looked up at you and went to place his hand on your thigh to reassure you that you were safe with him, but at his touch, you tensed and your eyes grew wide with terror and he quickly flinched back, as if you had electrocuted him.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you”, he said with guilt. The sadness on his face made you cry even more.

“I...I went out with this guy tonight”, you started, as Spencer’s face fell at thought of you with someone that wasn’t him, “He seemed nice and I was having fun. We-”, you chocked out another sob, “We went back to his place because the movie theater we were going to go to was closed, so we were just going to watch one there.” You stopped for a moment to try and catch your breath. You could feel Spencer’s eyes on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze because you felt like such an idiot. You had poor judgment and went out with a jerk and had to call the guy you had the biggest crush on to come get you because you were a mess. “A couple minutes into the movie he kissed me, and it was nice so I kissed him back, but-but then he-he”, you closed your eyes, the painful image in your head causing you to break down again, “he started to touch me and I pushed him off because I wasn’t comfortable, but he just kept going… I didn’t know what to do and-Ugh! I can still feel his hands on me.” You finally looked up at Spencer who’s eyes were burning with anger.

“(Y/n)”, his voice was so soft, in direct contrast to his eyes, “I am so sorry that happened. You are such an amazing person, and you deserve someone who treats you as such.” You smiled at this and thanked him.

“Um, you don’t have to, but, could you stay with me tonight? I really don’t feel like being alone…”, you asked.

“Yeah!-uh-uh, yeah, yes of course”, he stammered, trying to conceal his excitement at getting to spend time with you because of the terrible circumstances that brought you to call him tonight. That night you asked him if he could stay in your bed with you, to which he happily obliged. In your sleep, you both had drifted towards each other. You woke up in each other’s arms with a grin plastered on your faces. From that night on it had become your routine to sleep while holding each other, and on the third night, you hesitantly placed a kiss on Spencer’s cheek, causing him to blush and place one on your cheek in return. The next morning you had woken up before him, so you let yourself admire the dark curls that brushed against his forehead and his cute nose with little crinkles from him scrunching it so much. When you moved your way to his beautiful plump, pink lips, you couldn’t help place a chaste kiss to his lips, causing his big hazel eyes to shoot open. After realizing what was happening, he smiled and melted into your kiss.

---

Unknown to you until now, Spencer made himself a promise that night you called him full of tears: He would never do anything to cause you to hurt like that again. It all made sense. He never wanted anyone to touch you like that guy did, including himself, for fear he would make you uncomfortable or do something you didn’t want. 

“Spence…That guy didn’t take no for an answer. But, I know you-”

“Yeah well neither does this unsub!”, he shouted, cutting you off. It pained you to see how much this hurt him, but you really had to go do your job if you wanted to stop him from killing again tonight. Before giving Spencer a kiss on the cheek, you made a mental note to show him all the things he could do to you without hurting you when this was all over. Well, maybe him hurting you a little bit wouldn’t be such a bad thing with what you had planned.

“Look, I have to go. I love you”, you said, placing a kiss on his cheek.

“I love you”, he sighed in defeat, with a grin on the half of his face that you placed your lips on.

When Emily and JJ were done getting you ready, you looked in the mirror in amazement. You were never super confident in showing off your body, but this outfit left very little to the imagination. You couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of Spencer’s face when he would see you in this.

You stepped out of the bathroom, everyone’s eyes falling on you. You shrugged and walked towards Spencer so he could put your mic on you. As you walked towards him his eyes were glued to you. For someone who you were dating and had spent the past 63 nights in the same bed as you, even he hadn’t seen this much of you. You were wearing a skin-tight black dress, that with one wrong move would expose the black lace panties you had on, which also didn’t cover very much. The dress was very low cut, leaving your breasts out on display as they bounced as you walked in your heels. You had never seen Spencer’s eyes this wide and you swore you could see a bit of drool as his mouth was left open in shock.

“Alright, wire me up doc”, you teased as you approached him with a smirk.

“Um, yeah, right”, he said as he broke out of his trace, and the two of you went back into the file room. Spencer’s hands hovered over your body as he hesitated to put the wire down your back. He took in a breath and fed it down the back of your dress. “Is this okay…”, he questioned, whispering in your ear. His breath on your neck made you shudder. You nodded in response and he stopped again for a moment before bringing the wire towards your right breast. “Uh, here, I’ll let you do this part…”, he sheepishly looked away.

“Could you do it, please? You have steadier hands than me and the last thing we need is him seeing the wire”. Spencer looked in your eyes before nodding and grabbing the wire. His hands brushed against your breast, causing your breath to hitch at the sensation. He quickly dropped the wire and looked at you with scared, apologetic eyes.

“I’m so sorry-” he started, but you grabbed his hand and cut him off. “Spencer”, you smiled at him, bringing his hand back to where it was, “it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong. That felt nice, I just, I’ve never felt you do it before. It was just new okay, but... good, really good”, your angelic laugh released the tension in his face and he bit his bottom lip, holding back a smile. He finished attaching the wire, his movements causing you to shift from how turned on you were. He looked up at you, and you brought him in for a kiss. His hands gently laid on your waist and your hands ran through his hair. When you broke apart, breathless, you gave him another quick kiss. “Alright, let’s go catch this guy”, you winked at him, causing him to smile and shake his head at how you could be making jokes right before meeting a serial killer face to face.

“We’ll be right there the whole time, and I promise we won’t let anything happen to you”, he said sincerely.

“I know you will”, you smiled. He interlocked your hands as you left the file room. As you headed for the door to head to the black SUVs, you could hear Derek behind you saying “My man” at the sight of Spencer’s disheveled, more than normal, hair. You gave Spencer’s hand a quick squeeze as you both laughed and shook your heads at Derek’s comment. Spencer held your hand for dear life and didn’t let go the entire ride there, and when he finally had to let go, he brought your hand up to his mouth and placed a kiss on your knuckles. He wished you luck as you walked into the brisk night air.

You saw the unsub’s car approach you, and your heart rate sped up, but you took a breath and calmed down. You turned your head and gave him a lustful smile and you leaned on the open passenger window.

“How much?” he asked, getting out of his car. Shit, you thought, the team never planned on him getting out and forcefully taking the girls, you always thought they got in willingly and then he took control over them. Your heart rate sped back up again. “I said, how much?”, he growled while grabbing your arm. You tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong. But, before you could even let out a scream, you heard the voice of the man you loved with all your heart.

“FBI! Let her go! You are under arrest for the murder of five women”, Spencer shouted at the unsub. The unsub tightened his grip on your arm, causing you to wince. He reached for his gun in his pocket, but before he could, Morgan shot him in the arm, causing him to drop the gun. As he stumbled backward, you freed your arm and ran to Spencer, who enveloped you in a hug. You closed your eyes and put your cheek to his neck as his arms warmed your cold, and still very exposed, body. Feeling you shaking under him, he handed you his FBI jacket, which you gladly took as he draped it over your shoulders before bringing you in for another hug. He put one hand in your hair and whispered in your ear, “I’m so sorry (y/n), I promised nothing would happen. I’m so sorry he hurt you”, he said, pulling away slightly to examine your bruising arm from where the unsub grabbed you. 

“Hey… Spence…”, you said wiping a tear off his cheek, “none of this is your fault, we didn’t know he would get out of the car. I’m totally fine, and you saved me okay? I’m fine and I’m safe because you were there okay?”, he nodded as you wiped another one of tears away before he brought you to his chest again. “Come on, let’s go home,” you said as you brought him in for a quick kiss. However, much to your surprise, as you started to pull away, he cupped your cheeks and brought you into a deep kiss, you reciprocated, causing him to smile. “Hey um, maybe we can go back to the hotel so you can help me take my wire off”, you said in between kisses, pushing up against him even more. He smiled and let out a breathy laugh.

“Yeah, I’d like that”. You walked back to the black SUV, Spencer stopping you and putting his arm out protectively as Morgan took the bandaged and handcuffed unsub to the back of the police car. You looked up at Spencer with pure love because you trusted him and knew he would never hurt you.

When you made it back to the hotel room, you closed the door and took Spencer by the hand, setting him down at the edge of the bed. You stood in between his legs so that he was face to face with your chest. You brought his hands up to your chest and he took the wire out. You turned around but grabbed his hand before he fed it out of the back of your dress, causing Spencer to tense with fear that he did something wrong, a face you had seen far too many times.

“It might be easier if you unzip me and then take the wire out”, you suggested coyly.

“Oh um, are you sure?”, he asked, hesitant to touch you again. You looked down at him and could see the bulge that had formed in his pants.

“Yes, there is nothing I am more sure of”, you said while rubbing your thumb over his cheek. You turned back around and sat in his lap. His hands hovered over your zipper and then he began to slowly unzip it. You could feel the bulge growing in his pants with each inch of your back that became more exposed. As you felt his hands trace down your back, you became more and more turned on and you could feel your black panties getting wetter by the second. Desperate for some relief, you shifted your hips, causing Spencer to let out a quiet moan and his bulge to grow even bigger. When he finally got the wire out, you stood back up and turned around so he was once again staring at your breasts. Because your dress was unzipped, the shoulders of the dress began to fall, exposing even more of your chest. You smirked at seeing Spencer stare at your breasts, unable to peel his eyes away.

“You can touch me”, his eyes grew wide, realizing what he had been staring at and he looked up into your eyes, making sure not to break contact.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare”, he said sheepishly.

“Spencer”, you let out a soft chuckle, “You are my boyfriend, it’s okay, I want you to stare. I’d be a bit concerned if you didn’t like what you saw… You do right? You do like what you see?”, you said with a smaller waver to your voice.

“Of course I do! I-I, (y/n) I think you are the most beautiful person in the world. I would stare at you all day if I could, I mean, I kinda do.”

“Then touch me”, you almost whined, desperate for some friction to your crotch.

“I… I just don’t want to hurt you...” “You won’t.”

“But what if I do. I couldn’t live with myself if I knew I ever hurt you or made you uncomfortable”, he said staring at the floor. You brought his chin up to meet your gaze.

“Spencer, I want you to touch me, okay? I want this. And I trust you. I know that if for some reason I ask you to stop, you will. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable either, so if you don’t want this that is also totally okay, and we can just kiss and cuddle like normal okay? I love doing that too.” Spencer looked at you with such love your heart fluttered.

“I really want this, but only if you do too”, he said grabbing your hands and running his thumbs over your knuckles.

“I really do”, you said as you leaned in to kiss him. When your lips met he stood up and spun you so that the backs of your knees were against the bed. He ran his hands up and down your back, hinting at what he wanted to do.

“Is this okay?”, he asked. You nodded. He began to pull your dress down as he left sloppy kisses down your neck. Your exposed skin was on fire and everywhere he touched sent shocks of pleasure through your body. He pushed you onto the bed and got on top of you. His kisses got lower as he began to kiss the outline of your very much see-through lace bra. You were squirming beneath him as he sucked on the soft skin of your breasts, surely leaving marks to be admired for days to come. Your hands laced through his hair and your hips jolted up towards him in hopes of any form of release. He smiled into your skin and moved his hands down to the hem of your dress. He played with it before taking his mouth off of your breast and he looked you in the eyes.

“Is this okay?”, he asked.

“Yes, please Spencer, yes please.” With that he pulled your dress off your body, leaving you writhing beneath him in your soaked lace panties and bra. You lifted your arms up to start unbuttoning his shirt. You pushed it off his shoulders and ran your arms down in lean arms and then up to his subtly toned chest. “Please, Spence, I need you…” Hearing you beg for him made his heart do somersaults. He brushed his hands over your hips and slowly pulled down your panties, exposing you to him. He looked at you with desire.

“Is this okay?”, he asked, motioning towards your dripping entrance.

“Yes, please”, and that was all he needed before smiling up at you and connecting his mouth to your slit. He ran his tongue up and down you, eliciting loud moans from your mouth. He sucked on your clit and then ran his tongue in circles. You had been imagining this for months, and now that it was finally happening, it didn’t take long for you to come, your whole body shaking, your thighs tightening around his head, and his ears filling with you moaning his name. When you finally came down, you looked up at Spencer who stared back, matching your lustful gaze.

“You are so beautiful”, he said, running his fingers along every curve of your body. You looked down to see he was about to burst out of his pants. “Was that okay?”, he asked. 

“That, Dr. Reid, was more than okay, that was perfect.” He chuckled at you calling him doctor and placed a kiss to your forehead. He didn’t know it was possible to love someone this much. He thought his heart might burst. “I want you”, you said longingly.

“You have me”, Spencer replied with a confused smile, not quite understanding what you were saying.

“No, I want you, in me, please. I need you so bad”, Spencer’s eyes shot wide open.

“Are you sure?”, he said, running his hand over your cheek.

“I have never been more sure.” His smile grew to match yours and his mouth was back on yours, kissing you like he had been lost in the desert and you were the oasis he finally found. 

You reached down to his waist, “Is this okay?”, you asked. He nodded and hummed into your mouth. You unbuckled his belt and threw it to the side. You then undid his pants and ran your hands over his bare hips and up to his back, lightly scratching your nails into his skin, he moaned in response, jolting his hips towards you. He broke apart from the kiss to remove his pants and boxers to reveal his very hard length. You stared in amazement. Sure, you had felt your fair share of Spencer’s erections through his pants while kissing and cuddling, but this was even better than you imagined.

“Are you sure you want this?”, he asked as he positioned himself above you, his member ghosting over your entrance.

“Yes.” That was all it took and he slowly started to insert himself into you. You sucked in a sharp breath from feeling him inside you. The stretch hurt a bit, but it felt so good. Spencer noticed the discomfort you felt and immediately stopped. You looked up at him, wondering why he stopped when he felt so good.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”, he asked, searching your face for an answer.

“No, I’m great. Please don’t stop. You feel so good”, you whimpered, caressing his cheek. He nodded sheepishly, trying to hold back a smirk, and continued. When he bottom out you both let out a moan, and he stayed there for a moment to let you adjust. 

“Okay, I’m good”, you smiled at him, “please move”, you begged as your hips thrust upward. He started kissing you again as he began to move at a slow pace, as not to hurt you. You moaned into his kiss and whispered into his mouth, “Faster, please. Ruin me.” Spencer, completely enchanted by you, hanging onto every sound that came out of your mouth, happily obliged and began to thrust harder and faster. “Mmmuhhh Spence… Fuck… MMM Spence!”, you moaned. He was so high off of you he began to zone out in how good you felt.

“You feel so good (y/n), you feel so good around me”, he panted between kisses. You could tell that you were so close, but there was something you wanted to do first.

“Spence, wait…”, you said, putting your hand on his chest. He froze. Horrified he hurt you. You took his chin in your hand and met his gaze, “Can I ride you?”, you asked softly.

“Yea-Yeah, yes, yes please”, he said relieved. He turned both of you so that you were on top. You hovered on his tip, tracing circles at your entrance. You slowly lowered yourself as he moaned your name until he was fully inside you. He stared at you and reached for the clasps of the bra you still had on. “Is this okay?” You smiled and nodded as he unhooked your bra, releasing your breasts. He ran his hands over them, causing you to tip your head back in pleasure. You tightened around him, causing him to thrust into you at the sensation. You took that as your cue to start. You began rocking your hips, grinding on him as he grabbed your hips and dug his fingers into your sides. You began to bounce up and down on him, picking up your pace as you moaned even louder. Spencer was in pure bliss, looking at you ride him, moaning his name, as your breasts bounced in sync with your hips. He ran his hands over your ass and gave a tight squeeze, causing you to squeal. 

“Spence”, you warned, “I’m close.”

“Me too”, he moaned. As you came down, he thrust up into you hard, causing both of you to reach your climax together. You both sat there for a moment, just enjoying the feeling of one another. Spencer sat up, still inside of you, and you leaned into his chest as he wrapped his arms around you. “I need to clean you up”, he whispered as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“In a minute…”, you said, “You feel so good”, not wanted to lose the full feeling you had with him inside you. So that’s exactly what you did. You stayed, sat on Spencer’s lap, him still inside you, holding each other in your arms as you laid your head on his shoulder. He was so warm, and you loved the feeling of your bare chests together. After a few minutes of holding each other, he finally got you to get up so he could take care of you. He got a wet wash towel with warm water and came back to clean you off before doing the same to himself. He crawled under the covers with you and pulled you into his chest, his arms enveloping you in his warmth. He placed a kiss to the top of your head as you put your head in the crook of his neck.

“(Y/n)?”, you hummed in response, your eyes still closed, “I love you so much. Thank you for trusting me and letting me be with you”. You opened your eyes and looked up at him.

“Thank you for loving me and for always respecting me. I love you, more than you will ever know”, you said before placing a kiss to his cheek. He smiled in response and pulled you closer, never wanting to let go.

[spacedikut]

the blessing of a blizzard ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

summary: a blizzard leaves the team holed up in the bau office. spencer can’t stop thinking about your elusive boyfriend, mike, who might not be your boyfriend after all. 4.3k

a/n: festive fic! kind of! im too scared to do a final check so if there’s errors or i misuse pronouns just lemme know ily happy holidays ! thank you to the incredible @homoose for helping with dialogue :D

Mike. His name is Mike, and Spencer hates him.

Full name Michael, Spencer presumes, which comes from Hebrew meaning “who is like God?” A rhetorical question, implying there is no person like God, Michael was one of the archangels in Hebrew tradition and the only one identified as an archangel in the Bible.

What Michael should mean, however, is the guy that stole your heart and left Spencer thinking things very unlike him – that Mike, a man Spencer has never met and that clearly makes you very happy, has a really stupid name, for example.

There are three things Spencer knows about him:

1. Ever since you started deciding on his wardrobe, ladies love him. It makes you a little jealous, apparently.

2. You love baking him homemade treats whenever you can. Like a movie playing in his head, Spencer can perfectly remember you excitedly chatting with Garcia and Emily, animatedly explaining how excited Mike gets when he sees you’ve made something just for him.

3. Mike can be a bit of a dick, actually. There have been several mornings you’ve come in with a long face, leaning back in your desk chair far enough to view the world upside down and whining about how grumpy Mike was that morning, how you had to tip-toe around your apartment lest he get mad.

You’d called him your soulmate, added that he’s a light in your life you didn’t know you needed until you had him. You’re a person who chooses their words carefully, so when you’re walking around putting Mike and soulmate in the same sentence, you mean business.

That business is ripping Spencer’s heart out of his chest, apparently. Because you’re busy showing JJ pictures of him on your phone right now, blissfully unaware of the subconscious glare Spencer is lasering into your phone as he leans against the jet counter.

Spencer’s never had the honour of seeing Mike (a genuine word you used – honour) and you know what? Spencer doesn’t want to know what Mike looks like. Spencer doesn’t care. Mike’s probably ugly, anyway, and Spencer’s confidence within himself grows day by day and if there’s one thing he’s learnt recently it’s that comparison is the thief of joy and-

“Oh!” JJ exclaims, “He’s gorgeous!”

Fuck Mike. Really, fuck him.

+++

The floor is slippery beneath everyone’s feet, the surrounding area slowly losing its mixture of colours to blend into one coat of white.

It’s snowing.

Garcia greets the team, a steaming cup of tea in her bejewelled hands, and everyone gets to work right away. There’s whispers of the snow getting heavier and sticking and covering more and more ground with more and more depth; people are rushing against the proverbial clock to get done and get home before they’re all stuck.

But that won’t happen, right? If people were genuinely concerned about getting snowed in, surely everyone would’ve been sent home early as a precaution. Right? Right?

Wrong.

Rossi’s the one to notice it, calling out, “Check it out. Snow’s pretty bad.”

He says it like it’s nothing, like they’ll race to the windows then deflate with disappointment because you couldn’t even create a single snowball with that light coat, but holy hell people are walking around with snow up to their ankles and it’s still coming down thick. And then the lights are flickering and JJ is making frantic calls home to Will and Hotch is exiting his office, phone pressed to his ear, calling everyone to attention:

“There’s a blizzard incoming. It’s too dangerous for anyone to be on the roads, so we’re being told to sit tight. You should all try to call home, just in case; we don’t know how long we’ll be here.”

Some people still brave it, still try to head on home, and whether they make it or not is up to the Gods. The team glance around, varying expressions – Emily and Derek look pissed, JJ is worried, and you and Rossi are straight-faced. Penelope is bouncing in excitement.

“It’s like a sleepover!”

All Spencer can think about is how Mike will have to suffer another day without you. He bites back a smile.

+++

Spencer’s straining his neck, butt barely on his desk chair, in attempt to see around all the bustling people that stand between you and him. Through the glass BAU doors, on the phone, your shoulders are slumped and you kick your boot against the floor a few times to channel your multitude of emotions into something. He hopes Mike isn’t giving you a hard time for something that isn’t within your control.

Emily looks up from her monitor, where she’s doing Christmas shopping even though it’s Christmas Eve, and looks thoroughly amused by Spencer’s internal battle of wanting to watch you but not wanting it to be obvious.

“You good, Reid?”

Spencer flinches like Emily pinched him. “Yeah, good. Fine. Are you good?”

Emily makes a show of slowly turning to look at you, still on the phone, then slowly turning back to Spencer’s wide-eyed gaze. She smirks. “You think they’re talking to Mike?”

Yes, Spencer does think that, but he’d made a point to not fully acknowledge it. And there’s something about Emily’s smugness that tells Spencer she’s teasing him – she knows something he doesn’t and it makes his eyes narrow. “Probably. Why?”

Whatever the response is, Emily’s barely opened her mouth before she’s interrupted by Penelope Garcia gracefully clapping her hands, getting the attention of every BAU member. The team quiets and all eyes are on Penelope. Except Spencer, who watches with concern as you sneak back to your desk, a furrow to your brow and downward dips either side of your mouth.

“I know these are less-than-great circumstances, and we’re stuck in work of all places, but that shouldn’t mean we can’t have a little fun! So…”

She wildly gestures for Hotch to step forward, a cheesy grin on her face and a gleam in Hotch’s eye that tells everyone he’s also smiling but internally, and she takes the three large boxes he was carrying like the good sidekick he is.

“We’re building gingerbread houses!”

There’s exclamations of surprise and joy; Emily lights up at the idea of doing anything other than work or sitting at her desk, and JJ takes a box to look it over before asking, “Where did you get these?”

Hotch answers. “They were supposed to be for the kids,” He shrugs, holding back a smile, “However, I guess we can use them now.”

“Yes,” Penelope nods, “Yes, we can use them now. Get your game faces on, because this is a competition. Hotch and Rossi are the judges, because they’re grumpy old men, and the rest of us will be in teams of two fighting to build the best gingerbread house the BAU has ever seen.”

Derek speaks up for the first time, just to insult Spencer. “I refuse to be on a team with Reid. He has no creative skills.”

Members of the team laugh and Spencer reacts indignantly. He wants to reply, but you’re already speaking.

“Hey! I’ll take him! Spencer’s great.”

Many heads snap to you when you speak, Spencer’s surely got whiplash, but you’re looking at him and smiling at him and him alone. He’s breathless at the sight, how you chose him and have literal stars in your eyes, yet all he can think is how undeserving he is of such a beauty. How undeserving anyone is, mostly Mike, to exist in the same reality as someone who puts the definition of beautiful to shame.

Spencer’s about to make the best damn gingerbread house the world has ever seen.

+++

So, building a gingerbread house? A little more difficult than originally thought.

Maybe it’s the sticky icing, or the temptation to simply eat all the sweet decorative candy rather than use it for its intended purpose, or…

Maybe it’s the pretty teammate Spencer has that keeps brushing against him, keeps brushing against his hands, and like a virus to a computer you completely wipe Spencer of all thoughts other than: Y/N.

Spencer caught you watching him while he was rolling up his shirt sleeves, caught you staring at his hands and trailing your eyes up his forearms, following the sleeves as they moved inch by inch up to his elbows.

Then, when Spencer was holding two pieces of gingerbread together, you were too lost in thought to put the icing between the cracks and cement them together. Your eyes were trained on the fingers pressing the pieces together. Spencer had to call your name three times to wake you up.

Then, something weird happened (if the previous instances weren’t weird enough). You two had been in your own bubble of hushed tones and accidental touching, surrounded by bickering and collapsing houses and at one point Emily offered Rossi twenty bucks if he just votes for her and JJ without them making a house, and suddenly it’s silent. All he can hear is his heartbeat, his blood pumping in his ears, and all he can feel is the warmth of your breath on his ear because you’re right there, over his shoulder, joining him in hunching over your creation to decorate it with all kinds of shapes and colours.

The close proximity is too much. It’s too much.

You lean even closer, shoulder and arm pressed directly against Spencer’s, and lift another hand to place a miniature candy cane next to the gingerbread door. The action causes your hand to brush Spencer’s, and for the first time ever he’s not jolting away like he’s been electrocuted, no, his hand stays there, hovering, waiting and hoping for more.

Hoping for more of you.

And you seem to realise, too, that Spencer’s reaction is abnormal. He can’t decide if you’re testing the waters, or if it was a mere accident. But what are you testing the waters for? Why are you trying to touch him? Why do you want to touch him?

He takes a sharp intake of breath. From the corner of his eye, he sees you turn to look at him, and he almost doesn’t reciprocate. Almost.

You’re so close, face so close to his own. You take the softest breaths, in and out, sending the gentlest puffs of air onto Spencer’s lips.

He has no idea what the fuck is happening. He doesn’t want it to stop.

Your eyes, always shining and full of an emotion Spencer can’t decipher, dance around his face – his eyes, to his nose, stopping on each cheek, back and forth and up and down. Spencer’s captured by them, unable to tear himself away, which has become quite the habit since he’s known you.

Then you’re looking at his lips.

Spencer blinks, hoping to clear away the obvious hallucination he’s having, but no. Nothing changes. Your gaze remains, unwavered, making Spencer subconsciously open his mouth. The softest gasp leaves it when your pupils dilate.

This is the perfect moment to kiss, right? Right here, in front of the gingerbread house you made together, decorated together, and now begin the start of something else together. It makes sense, it’s almost poetic, and Spencer’s thought about you and him in a relationship enough times to consider this opportunity good and sweet enough to regale everyone with in the future.

Can you imagine it? “We had our first kiss in front of the gingerbread house we slaved over together. We won the competition, too.”

There’s a loud clang – Penelope found an actual gong from somewhere – and Rossi announces that the timer has gone off and it’s time for the judges to vote for the winner.

When you gently pick up yours and Spencer’s creation and take it to a cloth-covered table, where Rossi and Hotch ominously stand with their arms crossed, Spencer is frozen in place.

Oh my god. Oh my god.

There’s no way you wanted to kiss him. It isn’t possible. You’ve never looked at him like that before. It must’ve been a mistake.

But you were so close…

No. If Spencer made that move, it would’ve ruined everything – your friendship, the festive fun, the atmosphere of the entire evening. Everyone’s expected to be stuck here for at least another six hours, and making it tense and awkward was not something Spencer is willing to do.

But your eyes…

Spencer can’t think about that fact too much. That could mean anything – dilated pupils don’t necessarily mean you’re in love. You could’ve gotten a good whiff of the gingerbread and felt hungry, or a song you really liked started playing from the playlist Penelope created. Or, most likely, Spencer thinks, you were thinking about someone else.

Your boyfriend, for example.

You have a boyfriend. Mike.

Of course, you were probably thinking of Mike. Your boyfriend.

Spencer almost kissed someone in a relationship, and he’s pretty sure you almost kissed him too.

+++

Much to Derek’s chagrin, you and Spencer win the gingerbread house contest.

Penelope was baffled, frantically gesturing to the Jacuzzi she made with icing and- Derek made miniature weights? Somehow? It looked chaotic.

“Practicality, my dear,” Rossi told her. “Who, living in a gingerbread house, is worried about working out?”

Even though you and Spencer were the winners, Derek and Penelope and their pouting (and calls for a rematch) took the attention away from the obvious awkward tension between the winners. Spencer stayed at the desk you worked at while you took your house to the judges, stayed at the desk when you were crowned and stayed at the desk when you cheered.

You looked at him, wide grin and happy eyes, and all he could do was tightly smile back. Give a thumbs up.

He gave you a thumbs up. You nearly kissed less than ten minutes prior. And all he could do was give you a thumbs up.

The light in your eyes dimmed, but you seemed to understand.

Understand what, exactly? Spencer’s not so sure either. But something clicked in your head – you nodded to yourself as if confirming whatever you’ve concluded, and turned your back to him.

That was an hour ago. Now, the team has spread across everyone’s desks. Turns out, Hotch is a big fan of gingerbread - he’s consumed most of Derek and Penelope’s creation, icing and all, while Rossi has decided now is a good time to open one of the many bottles of whiskey he has in his office.

Spencer believes having that much alcohol in your work environment is breaking some kind of rule, but the snow isn’t letting up and it looks like a sleepover in the BAU office is likely. He deserves a little whiskey.

And where are you in all of this?

Spencer won’t lie and pretend he hasn’t had you in his line of sight the entire time, so he’ll recap what you’ve been doing: laughing at Derek’s jokes, plaiting Penelope’s hair, eating the candy Emily and JJ didn’t use on their house.

You’d left the room to call home and check up on things (check up on Mike, Spencer thinks bitterly) and now you stand in front of the large window by the BAU elevators, watching the snow fall.

Spencer has the perfect view of you through the glass doors. When the call ends and you stay there, he grabs a paper plate, grabs one of the walls from yours and his masterpiece and makes his way towards you.

He doesn’t know what he’ll say, or how he’ll even act, but he wants to talk to you. Things feel weird after the almost-kiss, and Spencer never wants things to be weird with you. He can’t have things weird with you. You hadn’t talked to him once since the competition, and he has a feeling you’re waiting for him to make the first move.

So he does. If that’s what you need, he’ll do it.

(He’s making this more dramatic than it needs to be, really, but he feels everything so deeply when it comes to you)

“Hey.”

Spencer’s voice perfectly matches the snowy atmosphere. It makes you feel warm inside, like you’ve just taken a sip of hot cocoa, and so often he’s left goosebumps on your skin just from speaking.

Seeing the outstretched paper plate in his hand, you take it gratefully. “Hi there. Thanks.” You nod to the gingerbread that you begin breaking up.

You hand him the first piece even though he brought it for you, and it’s silent while you both chew thoughtfully and watch the pure white outside. It doesn’t feel weird, necessarily, standing here, shoulder-to-shoulder with you, but you’re certainly more in your head than usual. You’re thinking a lot and, as much as it hurts him, Spencer knows you’re likely preoccupied by your boyfriend and not what transpired between you earlier.

It’s that thought, that disappointment settling into his chest, that opens his mouth unconsciously: “How’s Mike? Does he know you’re not making it home tonight?”

He regrets it immediately, worsened by the way you stop mid-chew, eyes dimming like Spencer’s taken a baseball bat and shattered the lights inside.

This is unchartered territory – talking about Mike with you – and you know it. Who, in their right mind, willingly asks the person they have feelings for how their relationship with someone that isn’t you is going? Does Spencer enjoy pain?

Although this is the first time Spencer’s mentioned Mike to your face (he’s mentioned Mike plenty to a laughing Derek), he’s been so close to presenting the topic many times. He wants to know so badly – wants to know how well Mike treats you, really treats you (he will profile you), if you see a long-term future with him and if not, on average how long does it take you to get over your exes? Just an estimate?

You swallow the gingerbread you’re eating. “He’s okay. My roommate has to take care of him, but at least he’s got someone.”

Huh?

Since when do you have a roommate?

And why is your roommate taking care of your boyfriend?

Oh. Guilt blooms in Spencer when it registers that he’s been thinking ill of a person that might be sick. No wonder you dote on him so much and seemed devastated to make that phone call home earlier - Mike needs you, you can’t be there for him, and you feel horrible for it.

Spencer feels horrible for having the subject of his anger be someone you so clearly cherish, so deeply love. He’s embarrassed that if he was asked to explain why he hates Mike so much, he’d have to tell them it’s because Mike has you, and you’re what Spencer wants. What about what you want?

“Take care of him?” Spencer asks. The concern is genuine, which is an emotion he never thought he’d have in regards to Mike. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh,” You shrug. “He needs someone watching over him at all times, that’s all.”

That’s all?

You continue. “Make sure he eats – and only eats what he’s supposed to. Give him his meds. Make sure he poops. Those kinda things.”

What?

“Your… roommate makes sure your boyfriend poops?”

Now, Spencer knows what you look like when you’re confused. Honestly, he has every facial expression you’ve graced him with tucked away in a proverbial box he spends too much time thinking about. He knows that when you’re trying not to laugh, you bite the inside of your left cheek. When you’re frustrated but need to present a professional front, you bite the inside of your right cheek. Happiness fills your entire face, like every inch is consumed by it, and you’ve trained yourself to transport anger to your hands, where they twist into tight fists and leave fingernail marks in your palms.

Confusion is one of his favourites (second only to joy – for obvious reasons. Have you seen your smile?) because it takes many forms. You’ve pursed your lips, narrowed your eyes, tapped your foot on the floor. When you do them all, Spencer considers it a jackpot. There’s something about the way you look when you’re presented with something you can’t quite figure out yet, when you’re perplexed, that just-

You make it hard for him to concentrate. He can’t be a genius when you’re around because you’re so pretty. You’re a vision and he can never rattle off information to you specifically because he will trip up and divert to talking about the beauty that is you and that would be embarrassing for many reasons.

But this type of confusion? The way you’re looking at him right now? He’s never seen this before. Your jaw has dropped, your brows are furrowed so deeply they might fall off, and you look… horrified.

“My… my boyfriend?”

Spencer mirrors your expression. “Yeah, your boyfriend. Mike?” He looks around, waiting for cameramen to jump out and tell him he’s being pranked, because why don’t you know who your own boyfriend is?

You move slowly, placing the half-eaten plate on the windowsill before turning to face Spencer fully. You take a second to compose yourself.

“Mike is my cat.”

Mike is…

“And he’s having digestive issues, so he needs to be watched pretty much full-time.”

Silence. Tense, weird silence.

“…You thought Mike was my boyfriend?”

Spencer sputters, then, because of course he did! “Yes! The way you talk about him was… it was… it seemed…”

He flustered, oh so flustered, hands flailing and face enflamed and burning from the inside out. How had he not known?! How had… how had your wires gotten so convoluted, so mixed?

Does everyone know that Mike is a cat? Is Spencer the only one out of the loop? The look Emily gave him earlier, that knowing too-smug look, was that…

She was making fun of him. She knew he thought Mike was a person, not a pet, and was teasing him because of it.

All at once, the world seems lighter and dimmer – a contradiction that leaves Spencer’s chest heaving – because the past year feels like a lie. He’s spent so long seeing the way you come to life when talking about Mike, sitting opposite you on the jet as you awaken like a dying flower watered when home got closer and closer, and it was all for… a cat?

There’s a mist over Spencer’s eyes as he recalls every overheard declaration of love and coos of how handsome Mike is, and you’re laughing. Spencer’s having a crisis in front of your very eyes and you’re laughing. Hunched over, a single tear falling from your eye, clutching your stomach because it hurts from the ferocity of your giggles.

By the time you quieten, your hand is over your mouth to cover the big grin that grounds him, gives him something other than this revelation to focus on. Spencer’s still baffled, frazzled, but there’s the tiniest of smiles on his face because of how overjoyed you look. And he did that. Albeit his stupidity did it, but Spencer’s stupidity nonetheless.

You’re out of breath. “God I… I don’t even know what to say. You really thought my cat was my boyfriend?”

Spencer’s fighting a smile, lips wiggling. The way you’re looking at him now, all blinding smile and crinkled eyes, alleviates him of any anxiety he earlier had. Like you’ve wiped away his plate-full of worries, all the times it felt like he took an arrow to the heart, all the times he caught you smiling at your phone because you were looking at pictures of Mike, it’s all worth it. Because you’ve never looked like this while talking about Mike, and Mike is a cat. He isn’t a person, isn’t your boyfriend. Mike is a cat and Spencer has a chance.

Spencer has a chance.

“Does this… this means you’re single, right?”

A somewhat terrified look overtakes his face.

“Oh, shoot, you are single, right?”

You bite your lower lip and nod. “Yes, Spencer. I’m single.”

He lets out a breath. “Good. That’s good. I’m glad.” He repeats your nod, realises what he said could imply, and starts shaking his head. “Not-not good good. You’re incredible and need to be appreciated, but… good, because that means we could, you know…” He gestures vaguely. God, why can’t he get coherent words out? “If you wanted to, we could-“

“Are you trying to ask me out, Spencer?”

“Yes.”

Just to cause immense emotional distress, you raise an eyebrow, mischief clear on your face, and wait for him to continue.

“You want me to actually ask?” He winces.

“I’ve spent the last year convinced you didn’t like me, so, yes, I want you to actually ask.”

The new information sends ice down Spencer’s back because what? Since when? “You- what?“

“I’ve liked you for a while, Spencer,” You cross your arms over your body, slightly embarrassed. “But you always kept your distance so I did too, I guess.”

“I thought you were taken!” Spencer exclaims. “If I’d known I would’ve-we could’ve- I would-“

“You’d what, Reid?” There’s a teasing lilt to your tone, but there’s no denying you’re incandescently happy.

He takes a deep breath and asks what he’s wanted to for far too long. “When this is all over, would you like to go on a date with me, Y/N?”

Relief flashes in your eyes, like you didn’t fully believe what was happening until he finally asked, and words have never sounded as pretty as when you say: “Yes. Yes I would.”

Like lovesick idiots, you stand in front of the window with the snowfall as a backdrop, grinning at each other. You can’t help it – you lean up, press a kiss to his cheek that immediately sets his skin ablaze, and fall back onto your feet with a smile sweeter than all the sugar you’d consumed today.

“Merry Christmas, Spencer.”

Somehow, despite the nerves and the way his heart is trying to leap into your hands, he manages to tell you, “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

+++

(Three weeks later, Spencer meets the Mike. Turns out he’s a nice guy. Spencer takes the first opportunity he can to apologise for all the bad things he said about him behind his back. The purring tells Spencer he’s forgiven)

+++

tags: @pinkdiamond1016 @bluerose512 @andreasworlsboring101 @bitchyreids @roses-and-grasses @ta-ka-shi-ma @rexorangecouny @unmistakablyunknown @goofygubler14 @gublertoon @averyhotchner @prettyboy-reid @shadyladyperfection

[trifoliumrex]

Assassin X Roommate Chapter 1

A Jungkook/ Reader/Jimin Fic

You need a roommate. Jimin and Jungkook need a place to stay. The only problem is you think they are students when in reality they are assassins on the hunt for their next target. How do you survive when you get tangled up in a world of blood and bullets?

Word Count: 4657

Updates Friday

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40321704/chapters/101000544

Next: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/trifoliumrex/690483552316424192?source=share

   Jimin can hear his pulse pounding in his ear. His blade is tight in his grip. This kill would tie him with that motherfucker, put him in the running for the top position and get his fucking agency off his back. Get his handle to give him the space to breathe that he craves. That he needs.

    He sees his target. An old man. Jimin doesn't know who wants him dead or why. Sometimes they tell him most of the time they don't. He only asks questions he needs to know for his targets to fall and this man was an easy one. He held up in his safe room all his many men already dead at his feet. The client wanted this to be bloody. To be messy. That's why they hired him specifically. Jimin always made a mess when he could. It made him feel like he had control, even if that was mostly bullshit.

    He draws his blade and a shot rings out. There is a cry of rage that takes Jimin a moment to realize is coming from him. He turns and sees the larger man leaning against the door frame like he's been there for hours. If Jimin allows himself the luxury of being honest he might have.

    The thing about Jungkook, the most infuriating thing was that Jungkook was better at him than this at everything really. He was stronger, better with a gun, better connected and his agency simply had resources Jimin's couldn't even dream of. Jimin makes a dash for him anyway. 

    Trying to become the number one by a different tactic. By bleeding the life out of his only rival. Its just not fucking fair. Everything came easy to Jungkook. The golden child is the bane of his existence. Jimin intends to make him suffer for it.

    Jimin is wrong. Not about Jungkook being better than him, he's wrong about it being easy. He has to work very hard to beat Jimin. When Jungkook had started he had been good but it wasn't until he had bested Jimin for the first time that he had taken any real pleasure from the job. He lives for showing the older smaller man up.

    He smirks and doges Jimin's blade deftly. He makes it look easy but it's something he had to study carefully. Most hit men didn't have the defense training that Jungkook possessed. He had it expressly so he could dangle his toes into the pools of Jimin's wrath. 

    Jungkook has the audacity to smirk at him before pointing his gun at Jimin. He doesn't even recoil just keeps charging. “Bang” he says just to prove to them both that if he wanted to he could kill Jimin right where he stands. 

    Jimin reaches for him again. This is an old dance between them. Jimin never catches up. This time is no exception. By the time he loses Jungkook, that bitter fear creeps into him. He knows what comes next. He’s long since given up trying to fight it. Not when there is a deeply embedded device in his neck. It starts to go off electrocuting him from the inside out for collection. They used to wait, but he has thrown a fit once, this was deemed more efficient.

    When he wakes up he has no idea how long he’s been out. His whole body hurts so he assumes it's been at least a few days. He has new bruises. His handler must have already doled out his punishment. That fucking Jungkook. 

   He’s back in his stark apartment. All a dinghy white only a bed and desk with a computer and chair. They hadn't even bothered to get him a place with a kitchen. Why did he waste his time? He was lucky there was a private bathroom. The rest of his agency was all out the compound. Jimin is pretty sure they keep in here so he’s isolated. He used to at least be allowed to see people other than his handler. He used to at least get to pretend to be a person.

   His door is opened and his handler walks in. He is a large man with cold eyes and a smile always just at his lips. The man enjoys the little flinch Jimin tries to hide from him. He hands Jimin a file. Printed off just for him. He’s not allowed to use the computer without supervision after all. An attack dog is only good after all when you keep it on a leash.

   Jimin thumbs threw the file. The mark is a frat boy. He apparently likes to drug girls and make videos with them passed out underneath him. Sometimes with friends sometimes alone The clients were one of the girl's parents who were surprisingly wealthy and well connected. Their daughter had killed herself after a video of her spread around campus like wildfire. They want a mess and they want it at one of the parties. At least 300 guests. They want him and his family humiliated.

    Jimin can do that. He starts making a plan. He was smart. Good at planning. His handler hands him a suitcase and a stack of bills. “Try not to need anything else.  It will cost you if it does” His handler always takes half Jimin's budget and pockets it. He wonders if he knows. He hoped so. “This is an important client. If you disappoint us I'm going to have to take something from you. I don't think a toe will be enough this time.” His hand gently touches Jimin's small hands. So suited for a blade. 

    He’ll run out of things they can take from him soon. The look of hate Jimin shoots at him is bordering on defiance. His dog is dangerously close to biting. He could always shock him but it was taking them longer and longer to get him enough voltage to shock him and longer and longer to wake him up. They’ll need to get him to care about something eventually. 

    “I've called you a cab. Be a good boy and get this done for us. I really hate to have to punish you” his hand leaves Jimin's pretty hand and goes to his pretty face. He might have been a better whore. Maybe if he fails again he’ll have to find a new job. He thinks he enjoys seeing how much force it would take to force this proud man to truly bend to the will of another. More things to take from him if he’s not the asset they trained him to be. 

    Jimin pulls out of his grasp. The hate that is boiling from his expression is such a delight. “Touch my face again and you will lose your hand” Jimin knows what this man wants from him. He thinks his handler might purposely sabotage him to insure he fails some missions so he can get it. Who knows what he’s already taken from his unconscious body.

     His handler, a man he’s known as long as he can remember. He is the only one who is able to speak Jimin directly. Jimin doesn't even know his name. He knows he doesn't have the power to harm him. When the slap falls around his mouth, not even particularly hard, just degrading, followed by a pat that is so condescending, Jimin can almost feel it dripping down his skin. 

    He gets in the cab already waiting without any more fuss. He’s pleased at least he doesn't have to get on a plane. It's something. He needs to find a place to live. Close to campus but far enough away that his not going to class draws no attention to him. 

    Miles away you look at your house. Your house. It feels so strange to say. It was once a grand house but now? You put your hands on your hips and sigh. You could handle the repairs. Most of them anyway. The only problem was the house was only about 80% paid off. 

    You had inherited the thing from your late aunt and the idea of being able to flip and sell it is intoxicating. It just meant one small thing. You need a roommate to help stretch your meager earnings in front of the job your aunt's connections had afforded you at the student bookstore despite the fact that you were not a student. 

    You look at your stack of papers printed on the cheapest astro brite paper you could find and grab your staple gun. Putting a roll of tape around your wrist like the world's most hideous bracelet. You pick up the stack and sigh again. 

    You look around the house, only partially clear of the copious amounts of the medical equipment still left from your aunt. Not to mention the few rooms most of the items that had been in the common areas had shoved int. She hadn't been a hoarder exactly but a collector and the simple collection of things had quickly become overwhelming. She’s been gone for only about a month. You knew her passing was coming but still it didn't exactly lessen the blow of her passing. Not really. 

    It was made worse by the nagging fact that no matter what you did next your old life was gone. Your family had become convinced that the woman had been rich and honestly at one time rehabs she had been but all of the money she had had went to her medical bills. They were convinced that you had inserted yourself into her life and now had your hands on her enormous fortune. 

    You friends didn't understand how you could just leave them and with  most, you had all but fallen out of touch with most of them and your job, not a great one that had long since replaced you. You had no choice but to start over. 

     With your full time job benign taking care of you aunt you hand even have had a chance to meet anyone. Not anything more than the most casual or acquaintances and your co-workers, though nice enough, seemed a bit wary of you, just a touch older and not in any of their classes. They have been nice enough but still. Still you feel rather alone.

    You hope you get a nice roommate, maybe one who will share their pretty dresses with you and show you what shade of lipstick looks best one you. You slap your cheeks twice. Focus. No point in trying for a fantasy when what you really wanted was a practical roommate who would pay rent on time. That's all. If you get more great but set your expectations low you remind yourself. 

     You staple a flier up as you fight the wave of emotion that floods you. You're not the tallest and if you don't you doubt it will attract anyone's attention. This particular is a garish green that seems to glow in the light. You hate the way it looks. Your own personal taste is soft colors and neutrals and there is something about this that sets you teeth on edge. 

    There is something cathartic about the sound of the staple gun though. It reminds you of doing your home repairs, your little projects you enjoyed so much. You had always excelled at shops close to your county school being one of the few that still had it and you loved learning more about building or tools whenever you could. Youtube, regulars at the hardware store it doesn't matter.

     Helping your aunt has been a little like it. Repairing. Only she had deteriorated so fast in the end that it was like trying to repair an actively sinking ship. Each nail you hammer in to put boards up to tray and stonch the water is just another place for the water to seep in. Fuck. You slap your cheeks again as if to wake yourself up from a slumber.

    It hadn't been a shock. You had both made peace with it but still. Still there was lingering wrongness. Still not exactly. Maybe an emptiness? But it was different then just a hollow spot because there was still her presence that lingered like a ghost as malignant as the tumors that had killed her. 

    The growth. 

     It was hard to think of it like that when she had gotten so small. She had been so big when you were a kid. So full of life. In the end she had been little more than a skeleton. You had not entered that room since they had taken her body. The bed she had died on in the night. There was more than one sealed room in your house but that one is the closest to being a mausoleum.

    There were so many goodbyes but had there been that final one? Or had they just been having a good night? Has there ever been that? She had been so weak. Hadn’t responded in days. You couldn't remember. 

    All you could remember when you closed your eyes to catch your breath was her lying there in pain too weak to even move and.

    And your phone rings, breaking your revelry. Shit. An unknown number. You answer anyway. You’ve put up a few posters and you know student housing is a bit of a mess. “Hello?” You answer. You can tell from the second you pick up that the connection is crap.

    You hear someone with a high voice. A woman maybe but you can't tell definitely one way or the other. You are pretty sure they set up an appointment to come and see the place tomorrow. You want to stop putting up your posters. You don't love the idea of your number being out but what if they don't want to live in a fixer upper? You had to be prepared for them to say no.

    You get up the next morning ridiculously early. You sit on the porch unsure of the exact time you set up. The phone connection having been too poor to be sure. Still you have nothing to do on your day off and you have a large cup of iced coffee. You like to watch the sun rise anyway. Always having been an early bird anyway.

    Jimin holds your fire in his hand with his own cup of coffee. Hot, not cold, and black absolutely no sugar. He doesn't like things. How strange then that his first thought when he sees you is that you look sweet. Sweet enough to savor. The way you look up at the rising sun stretched out and looking content. He wants to feel like that, The second thought he has is annoyed. He wanted to use the place. Who got up at sunrise. Your head turns at a sound and he does as well. 

    Are you fucking kidding. Jungkook? Here?!

    Jungkook actually got into town a day before Jimin. Unlike Jimin, planning had never been his forte. He hadn't needed it to be. He often as not he just copied Jimin's work. He figured with a payday like this Jimin would also be hired. Shit probably others. Maybe that ridiculous girl who called herself the snake. 

    So when he saw Jimin grab that horrible flier from a pole he grabbed the same one to find out what Jimin was thinking. He didn't like it when Jimin's face went blank. He wanted to know what he was thinking. 

    A house. Ok that was a good step. And from that room with the balcony you might even be able to see the frat house the mark was at. Who were you though? And why were you looking at Jimin like that? Like your the fucking sun. Jungkook doesn't like it not one bit.

    Until you turn the same face on him. You wave excitedly. Too exuberant and he watches your thoughts play out on you face the embarrassment and regret as you put your hand down. If you had a tail it would wagging.

    “High! Are you guys the couple from the phone?” Jimin's eyes narrow but Jungkook puts his arm around his waist pulling him to him. Jimin considers killing him right here. But his eyes go back to you. He likes to make a mess. Like to cause pain on assignment if that's what the client is and you are not a client and the way you're looking at him? He doesn't ruin it. 

   “Yeah, my boyfriend called. Your flier says one room, can we see it?” You nod excitedly and lead them instantly glad you left all the windows open. Jungkook appraises the place. It was probably nice once. It's not terrible now, a little cluttered by things he had to guess went yours. “Is this your place?”

    “It was my aunt. All mine now.” You give the tour. You explain the repairs you intend to make all excitement and bubbly joy despite a lingering sadness that seems to cling to you. Two natures at war in you. You seem to forget that you are even trying to get them to stay. The one room is clearly the master bedroom and Jimin wonders what room is yours.

    Jimin can smell the faintest smell of death. It's mixed with bleach. He looks at you seriously. “Did someone die here?” your face falls and you get quiet. Jungkook could slap him. You were clearly undercharging for this place and it would be a pain to have to get a different place where he can’t keep an eye on the competition.

    “Yes, my aunt she was sick” you look up in sudden fear. “No like anything contagious or anything” You stammer out and Jimin just shrugs looking at the closet space. 

   “Just wondering. I don't mind” 

    You look relieved and even let out a little sigh. Jungkook watches your face change like it's the most interesting show he's ever seen, spacing out for a moment then chimes in. He needs to make this little creep seem like a normal person. “The medical equipment down stairs.”

    “Oh. don’t worry I’m going to have someone come help me move it! I didn't expect anyone to call so soon. I just need to make an appointment.” You needed to wait till payday. You do some calculations in your mind fuck how were you going to do that and get the supplies to fix your wall in your bedroom that had a crack. 

    “If you’ll rent us two rooms I’ll move it. We’ll pay double of course” You eyes light up but just as quickly your face falls. Hmm do you need money? 

    “I do have a second room but it's not cleared out yet. It would take me a little time” You look so nervous. It's too easy what if they were creeps. 

   “If you let us move in today we can put down the deposit. Take your time” You eyes like up. You are so expressive. Jungkook wants to see all your expressions. He watches you realize something. He wonders if were planning on charging them a deposit. You seem unprepared for this.

    “You're sure? That would be so great. I was so happy when I got your call. I feel so much better living with a dating couple.” Jungkook digs around in his wallet and pulls out cash. Your eyes widen in shock. Who has this kind of cash on them these days. 

    “Will three months be enough?” You look at it. Of course it would be enough. This would let you do many repairs and. He watches you look guilty as you count out the cash he’s given you. Is it not enough?

    “No. I mean yes” you handed him two months back. You don't think it's fair to have them pay a deposit, not with the house the way it is. Even if it would help. “Here. One month is fine since you are giving me a week to clean out the room.” you hold out two months back at him. He can tell you don't want to give it back.

    Why do it then? 

     Are you up to something? You haven't made them sign anything or run a background check. You seem worried. You are worried. You don't have a car and caring this much to the back seems dangerous. 

    So we have a deal?” Jimin asks looking up. Better Jungkook's money than his. Jimin puts his one suitcase in the closet. He will unpack later. Not that there is much to unpack.

     “Yes! Of course thank you so much for responding so quickly. My name is Y/n”

Jungkook takes your hand. It's soft but with a few surprising calluses. You weren't kidding when you talked about your repairs then. “Well, I’m Jungkook and my cute little boyfriend hear is Jimin”

    “Hi Jimin! It's really nice to meet you!” Jimin looks up again. He is surprised to find that you look like you mean it. He stands up suddenly and kisses Jungkook. Hi bites down on his lip till he tastes blood and then puts on a dazzling smile. 

    “Can you finish up here sweety? I have something I have to take care of. Nice to meet you, Y/n” Jungkook chuckles. Vicious little thing isn't he? The public affection makes you blush and Jimin almost regrets the action. He wonders if a kiss from him to you would make you blush as pretty. Oh well not like he’ll be here long any way. Jimin offers you a polite bow and heads off to find whoever actually called you and persuade them to find different accommodations. 

   You offer to help Jungkook move his stuff in grateful that the furnished room was attractive to him. He seemed to travel light. They seem young, about your age give or take and maybe they were going to live in the dorms. 

     Jungkook agrees and you help take in bags from his very nice vintage car. It's flashy and you can tell it costs a lot of money even if you don't know shit about cars. You take in his all black look and wonder if he was trying to be cool or if he just exudes it naturally. You  stand just out of view of the trunk so you don’t accidentally pry. He hands you the lightest suitcase. Just clothes in that one. He doesn't seem to mind when you linger at the doorway. Curious about what he’s unpacking.

    Every item he pulls out is clearly expensive but also impeccably chosen if they are almost all black. You linger at the doorway unsure whether you should leave or stay. Nervous. He gestures for you. “You can get a better look if you want.” 

    You look embarrassed but you do want to see. You come over and sit on the edge of his bed still sipping at your coffee. He watches you try and fail not to ooh and aah at every single piece. Unlike Jimin, Jungkook does make money at his life's work. A lot of money. After buying the car he had started to buy clothes. Nice ones. Usually the only people who get close enough to appreciate ended up dead.

    You half reach out to one of his big sweaters. One he uses to hide his guns. Do you have a gun you need to hide? He holds it out to you and is charmed by your delight. “It's so soft!”

    “It is! Do you like soft clothes?”

     “Yeah but I always get them snagged on nails or covered in paint” you look remorseful for all your fallen sweaters. You let it drop from your fingers and think about what you have in the other room. The bed is fine but you’ll need to get new sheets and pillows at the very least. You feel the wad of cash in your pocket growing lighter already. You get up and stretch just a little.

    Jungkook's eyes track your movement. He enjoys the way you're not even a little guarded. You have no idea what you just invited into your home. “Do you want some coffee? I'm going to get a second cup” he eyes your empty cup. Reusable and almost a liter. Maybe caffeine was your preferred poisoning method. 

     You lead him down to the kitchen. your refrigerator is suspiciously barren other than a large dispensing jar filled with the light brown liquid. “You can have some of this if you want, or I can make you a hot cup. I only have a keurig but it's faster at least”

    “How do you get the jar filled up?” Jungkook asks. He sees no larger coffee maker. He frowns. 

     “Very slowly. I will say maybe 50% of it is …other things.” He smiles looking at it. It looks ok but there is so much. How long would it take?

     “What else?” Why did you say it like that? You frown trying to remember 

    “In this iteration? Tea, it’s cheaper, some coconut milk and a little oat milk that I had left over” you don't remember what kind of tea it was.

    “What do you call it?” He decides he wants it. He wants to know what you guzzle down like its water.

     “The concoction!” you say with pride.

     “I'll take it” You get him a glass. It's smaller than yours and he watches in mild horror as you fill your liter bottle up again. You glance up at the second bedroom. There is actually one more, the room your aunt died in but you're not ready to do that. Move box after box of her box out to the curb though? You could do that.

     He watches your thoughts play out on your face again and wants you to tell him everything. Hopefully there would be time for that “Oh shoot I need to get you guys keys I only have one extra!” You grab your own keyring off the table and hand it to him. It has a cute pink rabbit on it. “Ok I’ll give this one to you and when I get the boxes. And the sheets. Crap no… too much. Ok two trips then. Walmart sells boxes right? Oh Jungkook, do you think Jimin will want a fun key or a normal key for a shoot ? Do you want a normal key?”

    “I like this one. Where are you going?”

    “To the store, I need to get boxes”

    “Do you want a ride? You don't have a car right? Or is it in the garage?” You look positively delighted. 

     “No car. There is an old piano in the garage. If you help me move it, you can take the place of your car. No change other than moving the piano. I don't like going in there. There are spiders!” Jungkook grins at you. Cute. you are really fucking cute. 

    “Let's open it and move the thing so we can park when we get back.” You look at the garage with mock horror.

    “Will you kill the spiders for me?” 

    “Sure but my skills are expensive, you know? I'm a world class assassin. Can you afford me?” 

    “Probably not. I guess I'll have to be brave” You say with a grin as you open the door and look at the ancient and rotted piano and try to give it a tug. Jungkook watches you struggle for a moment.

    “There's a spider by your hand” He says. You let out a little gasp and recoil almost tripping back. He catches you quicker than you would have thought possible. You go red the second he touches you and stay red after he rights you. He smashes the spider. 

    “Sorry I didn't know it was an actual fear. I’ll tell you what I'll give you one on the house. Next time you want someone dead tell me” You laugh. 

    “I’ll keep that in mind”

[bimobuddy]

Giggleduck

I don't know very many people who watch Darkwing Duck, but it's a great cartoon and it's on Disney+ and I recommend it :)

This is going to be a longer post because for some reason, I either cannot or don't know how to add a cut to a post, so if you know how, please dm me 😅

This is a tickle fic, if you don't like it, don't read it.

Ler: uh...plants?

Lee: Negaduck

Negaduck stormed into the hideout. Once again, his plans had been foiled by that Darkwing Dork, and he wasn't happy. The others followed behind like unhappy children who had disappointed their parent. When the door shut behind them, all at once they started to defend and complain.

"I didn't mean to electrocute anyone, it was Liquidator's fault, he sprayed me-" "That was Bushroot's fault, 100% guaranteed." "I bumped into you because Quackerjack's toy soldiers shot at me instead of that Darkwing freak!" "It's not MY fault that my toys malfunction!" "Yes it is-" "QUIET!" Negaduck yelled. Silence filled the air like a thick blanket. Too thick. Everyone stood there, uncomfortable and nervous.

Negaduck glared at his idiot henchmen. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that we outsmart him next time. Everyone get back to your rooms and do what you do, but better. I don't want another screw up like this time." And with that, he stormed off back to his office, leaving everyone else standing there, fed up.

The rest of the week was filled with Negaduck walking around, yelling and criticizing everyone and their plans. Megavolt's giant human magnetic wasn't good enough. Liquidator's plan to poison the water was 'overused.' Quackerjack's Jack-in-the-box bombs were too reckless. Everyone was tired of Negaduck. Honestly, he was yelling at everyone else, but what was HE doing?

Bushroot timidly approached his boss to ask him to review his latest project. "I just want to make sure it's up to your standards, so we can beat Darkwing." He said. Negaduck followed him out to his greenhouse, to find a giant sundew plant. Negaduck looked at Bushroot, prompting him to explain, which he finally did after a minute. "The Sundew is naturally a carnivorous plant. It 'grabs' onto insects and eats them. I was able to tweak this one to make it huge, and instead of killing, it would instead drain Darkwing of his energy, rendering him useless in battle."

Negaduck grinned. He liked this idea. "So how does it woORK-" the sundew had grabbed Negaduck up, mistaking him for Darkwing. Fluffy vines wrapped up his arms and held him out. "Bushroot! Get me down from here! What's it doing?!" Extra vines came out, reaching for his sides. "T-That's what I was talking about, sir. That must be how it extracts its energy." Bushroot tried to explain.

Negaduck was about to yell at him again, but he felt those fluffy vines work their way under his shirt. The effect was immediate. He clamped his bill shut and kicked his legs, trying to kick the vines away. It tickled so bad, but he refused to laugh and show weakness, especially in front of his henchman. A vine wrapped around his ankles, making him completely still.

He could feel the vines wiggle up and down his sides, and over his belly. He felt like he was going to burst from holding it all in. When he felt a vine brush over his feet, the dam burst and there was no going back.

"Pffft hahahahahaha! Stahahahahahap! Buhuhushroohoot mahahahake ihihit stahahahahap!" He demanded between laughs and embarrassing squeaks. He looked down to see Bushroot not doing anything, just standing there and watching, amused. "BUHUHUSHROOHOOT-" "I don't know, boss, you've been awfully crabby lately, yelling at us all and being extra critical. Maybe you do need to loosen up." He smirked.

Negaduck tried to glare at him but his laughter and red cheeks weren't helping. The plant started brushing a vine over the backs of his knees, making his loud laughter very squeaky. He pulled on his arms and legs, squirming from side to side, but nothing was working. "Hahahahaha stahahahahap! -squeak- nohoho nahahat theHEHEHERE!!" Vines had wrapped themselves around his waist, squeezing his hips, sending him into hysterics. "BUHUSH- AHAHAHA STAHAHAHA! P-PLEHEHEASE!"

Bushroot rolled his eyes and told the plant to let go of him. He would have liked to just let him keep going, but when the evil mastermind starts saying 'please,' you know he's had enough. The plant let go of Negaduck, leaving him tired, giggly, grinning, and panting on the greenhouse floor. Bushroot jumped at the opportunity. "I won't tell the others if you relax a little and just let us work on our plans for the next heist." Negaduck panted and looked up at him, still with a silly grin. "Deal."

[forestlingincorporated]

Teen Titans #29

So, one of my favorite types of fics to read is Different First Meeting fics between Jason and Tim. I looooove reading Enemies To Caretaker, of which I fed handsomely on fairly recently. Big Brother Jason fics give me warm fuzzies, and Tim Drake needs a hug, and I feel like if these two actually got to know each other and worked past their preconceptions, they’d get along surprisingly well. And Still A Jason!Robin Fanboy Tim Drake is just a fun concept. 

Also, it just FEELS right for the middle siblings to band together after Damian comes along, lets get those abandonment issues in the party. 

So, for mysterious and very secret TimKon Week 2021 reasons, I was rereading some Teen Titans, and I stumbled over the Original Tim+Jason First Meeting, and I just sort of wanted to talk about some interesting things I found in there rereading it after several years. 

First thing right off the bat, when reading fics, normally it’s either the Core Four at the tower that Jason puts to sleep, or it’s Tim alone for the night. In the comic, none of Tim’s close friends are even at the tower, Jason waits for Bart and Cassie to leave, and Conner actually hasn’t come around for an in-universe month, because this is after the Superboy’s Birthright arc where Lex mind controls Conner. 

The people Jason knocks out were his own teammates when he was a Titan. He specifically says he never got to work with Beast Boy or Cyborg directly, so he doesn’t feel bad electrocuting them, but he feels bad putting Raven under much more gently because she used to worry for him. 

Tim has just gotten off the phone with Bruce when Jason shows up. It seems like Bruce might’ve been picking Tim up, but something’s come up with Martian Manhunter going missing, so Tim tells him he’ll catch a ride with Cyborg. 

This is actually really interesting to me, because it’s a small moment of Bruce letting Tim down. It’s a conversation he’s probably had with his biological father many times when Jack’s canceled on him. 

Gonna acknowledge this abomination real quick. This is So Stupid, and I’m glad as a fandom we just all agreed Jason didn’t do this. It makes me ask so many questions. Where did he get that oversized Robin costume? Why’d he tear off his perfectly good clothes? Why did he do this? Why the yellow tights? WHY? 

A lot of things are actually happening here that are actually Really Interesting if you just look past the stupid fucking outfit. Because this comic actually flew really close to greatness, they just ended up dropping the ball by not continuing to do more with it. 

First off, Jason doesn’t beat around the bush. He’s immediately like “yeah, yeah, yeah, Red Hood, whatever, I’m Jason Todd, bitch! Fight me.” 

Secondly, Jason’s done his homework. He knows A LOT about Tim. He knows his name, he knows he has a dad, he knows he went to prep school, and he knows the story of how Tim became Robin. How he GOT that last bit of information, I’d honestly like to know. But even HAVING the information isn’t enough; he’s still letting his preconceived ideas get in the way. The surface level information about Tim’s life only served to fuel his jealousy and anger (thanks, Lazerus Pitt!). He’s so focused on Tim’s privilege that he’s looked past evidence of hardship; if he’s done this much research on Tim, he’s no doubt seen records of multiple boarding schools, lengthy travel records, news reports, a death certificate.... He can’t even bring himself to BELIEVE parts of Tim’s story that aren’t lining up with his world view, like HOW he became Robin. 

Jason has convinced himself that what he’s discovered about Tim and the period of time when Jason was dead - the fact that Bruce was spiraling after his death, that his family mourned him, that Tim had to step up to the plate at a weird suicide prevention buddy system - is all a lie. Despite the fact that he’s beating Tim’s ass, he speaks to him with the assumption that Tim’s a child who’s been manipulated and lied to. 

Meanwhile, it must be SO PAINFUL for Tim to hear Jason say these things: I bet he said the same thing to you he said to me, didn’t he? That you have the talent to make a difference in Gotham. That he needed someone he could trust in his war on crime. That you were one of a kind. The light in his darkness.

Bruce never said any of that to Tim. Bruce rejected Tim, he didn’t want Tim, and begrudgingly accepted Tim. 

Going back to Jason waiting for Tim’s other young teen friends to leave the tower before going in, only drugging his own former teammates, is much of his anger seems directed at THEM, not just Bruce. To Jason, it looks like they didn’t mourn him either, he has no statue. I find it interesting that he smashes Donna Troy’s statue, who died after him, and I believe she came back before he did. 

Unless he was keeping track of the news from the League of Assassins, to Jason, Donna never died. 

And most importantly? Tim shuts Jason down. Tim “Bitch, Please” Drake out here like: you’re a fucking idiot, he loved you to death, he barely let me audition for the role. 

Tim shows some deep resentment towards Jason in this scene. I mean... earned, Jason literally came into his house and starting hitting him, but Tim’s relationship towards the Idea Of Jason has gone through a few changes. At first Jason was ROBIN! THE BOY WONDER! And if maybe Tim thought Bruce wasn’t AS happy with Jason as he was with Dick, there was still SOME hero worship early on. But it only takes Bruce and Alfred and Dick using Jason’s death as a cautionary tale a few times to get Tim to see Jason AS a cautionary tale - the kind of Robin NOT to be. But the more Tim craved Bruce’s paternal attention and approval, and the more Bruce withheld it or made Tim work for it, knowing that Bruce did that, in part, because of his love and grief for his dead son (Tim having an actual living breathing father plays a part, too), and those feelings towards Jason have started to fester.

Jason can’t let it go, though, he thinks the concept of Robin was a mistake and had always been a mistake, and if he can hurt Tim, so can Scarecrow, Penguin, The Joker. 

This is a good time to bring up that one thing I think Jason probably doesn’t know is Tim is injured. It is a little over a month since since Conner shattered Tim’s right arm. Tim is still healing from a comminuted fracture in his forearm. And looking at this picture that is - ah, yes, that is the injured arm Jason is swinging Tim by. Tim is probably healed by now, the cast IS off and he’s a child, but bones don’t fully return to full strength for 3-6 months. 

Jason is conflicted. This is clearly, in part, a fucked up way of “protecting” what he sees as a manipulated child, to convince him to leave Bruce. But there’s also clearly some deep, deep jealousy thrown into the mix to complicate matters and cloud his judgement. Ultimately, Jason isn’t there to kill Tim. Tim would be dead if he was. He’s there to “beat some sense into him,” and he ultimately fails, and fails badly. 

Tim is found by the older Titans, awake by now, though it seems Jason knocked him out to, uh, fuck with the memorial chamber, and Tim... does not beat around the bush. No secret identities here just “yeah, Jason Todd beat the shit out of me.” 

And their reactions are HILARIOUS. 

One more little sidebar, in the comic, Jason gets in with a D.N.A. check that never removed him from its permissions. Usually in fic this is a unique pass code. I’m not sure which version I like better, honestly. There’s something about Jason physically inputting a code that accepts him even though he’s supposedly dead that I really like, and just feels better than a dna scan. A dna scan sounds SAFER, sure, but there’s something about the Titans leaving in an honest SECURITY RISK out of sentiment that I like. 

Lastly, I really like how it ends. Jason honestly thinks Tim IS a good Robin, and it seems like Jason’s done some research on the core four, mentioning Tim’s “real friends” again while the “camera” is on Conner and Cassie, suggesting that Jason KNOWS about them and possibly that targeting the tower while they were gone maybe wasn’t an accident or out of convenience, but fully intentional. And again, Jason’s real problem is highlighted: he feels alone, forgotten, unmemorable, no family, no friends. 

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk.