#i think. anyway. even professors at university took it well. my doctors took it well. its like. wow!!! blessed blessed blessed

[tkbrokkoli]

c:

[otter1962crystalball]

Love, Depression & Letting Go.

June 14th, 2024

Happy 14th Day of Pride! Today I am writing about falling in love along with letting go when the love flies away and how depression and anxiety can almost destroy a person.

As I look back on my life since seroconverting, depression was often waiting in the wings for me. Yesterday I wrote of the deep depression I felt over losing Eddy the first time. When I decided to leave, I had concerns about living alone in a small city such as Jonquière, Québec. Very few people spoke English, with the exception of the teachers at the CEGEP de Jonquière. This was college level teaching in ESL (English as a Second Language). I felt very isolated and didn’t really make any friends while teaching there. I was also teaching step and aerobics at a local gym. I didn’t really befriend anyone. In fact, I had to insist a woman leave me alone as she stalked me. I guess that she hadn’t figured out that I was not going to hook up with her. Who knows, maybe she thought she could change me…

Anyway, during that year of teaching ESL, the only person I really talked to was a former professor from my degree. We had hit it off because he and his wife were living there at the time.  Most of my time was taken up with walking Bailey and playing on the internet. I had to do so at the CEGEP in the teacher’s lounge because back in those days most houses didn’t have Internet yet. I’d sign in and go to the lounge and hook up to IRC (Inter Relay Chat). I just looked it up on the Internet and it still exists! 

Once on, I would link into gay chatrooms. You could only type text and send pictures to someone. It was there that I met a guy that I will call “Jeff.” We chatted on a regular basis and I found out he lived in Vancouver. I told him that I was going to move there to go to the University of British Columbia to upgrade my teaching degree. Jeff and I really started sharing a lot and we started talking about what might happen when we met. We had exchanged pictures and there was a connection, so we both started looking forward to meeting each other. This took place in the dead of winter and it was so bloody cold there. All I could think of was escaping and going to Vancouver.

So, when school was done, I resigned and packed about 15 boxes and sent them to my sister’s place by UPS. Bailey, TC, Bob and Marnie came with me. To be honest, I can’t even remember how I got to the Montreal airport. I do remember getting the dog and cats ready to fly.

When I arrived in Vancouver, my sister took Bailey to a vet where they boarded dogs. The cats came with me to her apartment. Not long after, I found an apartment in the West End. It was a filthy apartment, but relatively cheap back in those days. I spent a long time cleaning it and painting the walls and the kitchen cabinets. Jeff and I hung out and began a relationship.

The next year, we moved in together, first in his current apartment and then the top floor of a duplex. Later, we bought a townhouse together. We were a couple for almost five years. 

One day, Jeff decided that he didn’t like our sexual lives together, of which I won’t go into detail. That night he decided, we were lying in bed and he told me he wanted out. I got upset and moved to the second bedroom. I was in such shock that I couldn’t sleep. I even ended up in the hospital, where the doctor gave me some Ativan to take and told me to go home. This was the start of one of the most deep depressions that I have ever lived.

I felt totally lost. I managed to continue to work at my school where I now had a permanent position. I literally tried to escape living in the townhouse with Jeff, so I moved into a friend’s place. That didn’t work out too well as the friend made passes at me and I was too weak to say no and let him. This was winter of 2001, when I went home to my parents’ for Christmas, so depressed that I couldn’t function. It was also the time when my father had his first stroke. The whole family got together to decide what to do.

I could barely function. My older brother told me to stop being so glum - it was a part of life for a parent to have a stroke. Little did my brother know what I was going through. We all decided our parents live in a condo that was easy to navigate for my Dad. 

After that, I went to my sister’s for a while, but her male partner didn’t like me. I think that he was rather homophobic. So part way into my stay, my sister came and told me that she was putting me on a plane because the two of them needed to set their New Year’s goals. I knew the real reason and didn’t speak to my sister for almost ten years.

When I got home, I immediately went to another friend’s place because I didn’t want to be sexually harassed by the other guy. Looking back at the time, I was depressed over losing Jeff, not being able to function well at work or do much of anything.

The townhouse that Jeff I owned was sold and I got a nice sum of money. I ended buying a condo in the West End. I hit a snag because the bank where I was requesting the mortgage made unreasonable demands. The representative made me get a second line of credit with another bank in order to allow me to get a mortgage. It turned out that he was being very unreasonable and I got another representative who really took me under his wing. This snag made my depression even worse.

I settled into my condo and I tried to move on. I spent many nights walking around the West end, the seawall or going to the bathhouse. Tuesdays were cheap locker night. A friend convinced me to go so that I wouldn’t stay at home and be depressed. The anonymous sex did help, I guess.

And then, one night it all changed. I’ll tell you about that tomorrow. I began this blog about how depression could destroy someone. It almost destroyed me… 

I want to finish off by saying that I’ve skipped many, many details in all of my blog entries. Maybe, I should write a book… For Pride, I am celebrating support for those who are depressed. I needed an ear to share all of my pain and I’ve always been open to returning the favour to anyone who needed the same. If you know someone who is depressed, reach out to them. It could change things for that person to know there is someone who will listen.

Carpe diem, everyone. Happy Pride!

[shig-a-shig-ah]

so um… ghul… I need advice (if you can give it)?

So you’re a college professor right? Well, for a while now I’ve really been thinking about going back to school (I’m 25, by the way) because I’d also like to become a college professor, ideally in creative writing/something in the writing field.

So I was wondering if there was any advice/warnings/general information you might be able to share that you think would be useful.

You don’t need to spend too much time answering. I don’t want to inconvenience you. But I could just really use any words of wisdom since this is something I really really want but am scared I’ll be blindsided by something (I did a little college back when I was 18 but ended up having to leave due to personal reasons, so I have some experience on what to expect, but not a ton).

Anyway, hope you’re having a good night.

Hi! Always happy to give advice and warnings about the dumpster fire that is academia, so I definitely don't mind the question or feel inconvenienced. I should clarify though that I'm a PhD candidate, not an actual professor--so basically, I'm a very advanced graduate student who teaches instead of taking classes. But, being a professor is the goal and I'm pretty well versed in the ups and downs of pursuing an academic job.

And I have warnings. So many warnings!

The first thing to consider is just the amount of time it takes to become a professor. While you can get some jobs with only a Master's degree, they're few and far between, and especially precarious. For anything secure, you basically have to have a PhD. That means 4-5 years of undergrad, assuming you're starting basically from scratch, and then at least another five years for the doctoral degree. Keep in my mind that most people take longer than that to finish a PhD, too--I'm in my eighth year of grad school (sixth year in my actual program because I did a master's beforehand), and the average time to degree for my department is seven years. I know people who took ten. I may take ten!

Second, the academic job market is terrible. In many, many ways. There are basically two options--tenure track and adjunct. Tenure track pays better, comes with stability, and is probably what most people think of when they think of being a professor. Adjunct positions are short-term teaching contracts that only last for a semester, and often pay worse. (Imagine cobbling together a full-time job by teaching multiple classes a couple universities to make $30k a year with few benefits, if you're lucky).

Tenure track jobs have more stability, benefits, etc., but are also really fucking competitive. It's not unusual to have hundreds of applicants for one position, and even then it likely still won't pay as much as most other jobs requiring that level of education. On top of that, you generally have to also hustle to public papers, present at conferences, etc., just to be competitive for these jobs. And, as a bonus, it's almost guaranteed that you'll have to relocate to find a position, so you could easily find yourself moving to Arkansas to make $45k a year after a decade of schooling. Things are especially competitive and underpaid in the humanities, like writing-related fields, too.

Now, it's not like it could hurt to pursue it as an option, but going back to undergrad just for that being the goal is maybe not the best idea; it's definitely better to go in with a few possible paths in mind. Because it's a big time commitment for very little guaranteed payoff, and that's without even considering that just getting through grad school is fucking hard, and pretty much guaranteed to leave you with a lot of debt unless you have a partner to financially support you. And there are things that are great about it--you get a lot of autonomy, and I really love teaching so I have a great time--but I also pretty much agree with the advice I was given before starting, which was: if you can picture yourself doing anything else, do that instead.

[starkwub]

Can’t help but imagine this as Tony being the married professor with Peter as the young pretty boy engineering student—absolutely love it

Like Tony’s enjoyed students' company before in a general sense but never had any of them spark his particular interest in such a way as Peter did. That look in his eye and the quirk in his brow just makes me think that as much as he spends time being adored and ‘down to earth’, he can also be a pretty major elitist on the down low.

Maybe a bit of an antisocial personality going on? A little manipulation and “if no one’s around and you have no ability to prove I was here, I’ll just scoff when you slip and fall to my feet then step on your shit as I leave” (especially imagining him leaving a crisp shoe print on someone’s nice black coat,, what a rebel XD)

But he wouldn’t want Peter to know that—unless for some reason he thinks the kid would understand him. That would make the obsession bubbling within him even worse. He’d push Peter to do better (though if he slips up isn’t deemed a lost cause) and wouldn’t be afraid to drop the facade for the events he normally would just because the boy was with him.

He’d get that strange look in his eye that Peter would see and then feel the primal urge to shrink away from, even if it wasn’t directed towards him, but he also knew that there was something about Mr. Stark that made him want to stand tall and proud. He knew there wasn’t anyone else like him, and according to the other party, there was no one like Peter either.

He’d often thought that that must be the reason why his professor's face would become littered with micro-expressions of disgust and displeasure when in the presence of sucks ups and, well…really anyone else. He had a few people he took an honest likeness towards, fellow professors and the oddball student here and there, but none of them compared. Peter was the only one that had the man jogging down the hall to walk with him or holding doors out of pleasure rather than social obligations, and he liked it. A lot.

Tbh it kinda sounds like superior ironman as a professor which I’m not really complaining about XD

Can’t tell if his eyes would be that striking ice blue or not (maybe he’s wearing brown contacts out and about so nobody knew?)

Peter could one day accompany Tony to a bathroom for a break in between some type of school/major specific get together and see Tony remove them,, ahh I can totally see it ._.

– – –

"God damn these contacts... My doctor told me to try out this new brand and they've been agitating me all day long." Mr. Stark complained whilst pushing the bathroom door open for the both of them. 

“It’s not like the speaker isn’t already hitting a nerve–I mean come on. Talking about a one-electron universe once I can get behind, but the guy’s been presenting it every semester for years. I think everyone’s just given up at this point since he’s tenured.”

“Oh Mr. Stark it’s not that bad. I’ve gone the past two years and he makes sure to add different figures–and it’s only the first half anyways. The latter half is always something different concerning his research–which you have to admit is a tad bit interesting–to keep us on our toes.”

“Yeah you’re right. I shouldn’t be so negative, huh?”

He couldn’t help but let out a little laugh. What a nerd.

“I get it–you’re soo funny with that one aren’t you? I’ll admit that it’s not too terribly original though.”

“Oh that’s what makes it good though–you only laughed because it doesn’t require a PhD in joking around. Maybe you should take that instead since you’re still undecided.”

Peter shook his head and gripped the straps of his bag. He supposed he didn’t need to bring it with him but he was feeling a tad bit peckish and wasn’t sure if they’d be passing by a vending machine on the way. He supposed even further that he could’ve just grabbed his wallet that lies within, but with that agitated look in Mr. Stark’s eye? He didn’t dare to keep him waiting.

Come to think of it, it was kind of interesting tagging along with his professor to make a pit stop at the bathroom, albeit it felt a tad bit personal when it was his professor. Should he use the bathroom since they were there? He hadn't gone since that morning and he had been trying to drink more water as of late after realizing he was most likely more than a little dehydrated.

Looking up, he watched as Mr. Stark leaned in and peered closer at the large full wall mirror in order to ascertain the situation, but quickly glanced away and placed his bag below the sink when he witnessed the older man wince and begin to touch the contact.

"M' gonna use the bathroom."

And he did, in a stall of course because he was nervous and didn't want to accidentally flash his middle aged greying physics professor. He momentarily wondered, and had the unbidden desire, to ask if he was tenured amidst his urination. His heart began to pound in his chest amidst the idea of breaking his own social law and speaking as if they were still side by side at the table in the conference room. 

Peter finished up though without so much as a murmur falling past his lips and left the stall to see his bag had been moved to be closer to Mr. Stark's right leg. Had the man moved it?

"You ever wear contacts, Peter?"

He shook his head as he began to scrub his pale dry knuckles and short fingernails with the school soap that smelled borderline festive.

"No never. I had a friend in high school that was into that sort of thing with multiple different colors, most being wildly unbelievable, but I never got into it. I think my eyes are too sensitive."

Peter looked up from his scrubbing and noticed Mr. Stark delicately taking one of the contacts out of his eye, revealing what could only be described as a blue one.

Blue eyes? And not even dull ones--but icey metallic orbs that nearly looked like cataracts! It was obscure, unnatural, and completely out of the blue (no pun intended, though he was sure Mr. Stark would scoff with an upturned quirk on his lip from hearing it). Brown eyes suit him so well and to see the complete opposite–gosh he scarcely thought he was imagining it all.

"Blue eyes were never my thing. They always looked too uninviting–and while that wouldn't be a bad thing if I wanted to be the 'bad cop' intimidator type, I'm a professor, and I care more about my social image than most would care to admit to."

“And I can see just fine–purely cosmetic, these are. At night things can get a little dicey, but age has definitely played a role in that getting worse over the years.”

Peter watched Mr. Stark blink the liquid he'd just dropped in from his small leather bag and couldn't help but be encapsulated by how long and dark his eyelashes looked when they were wet. It kind of looked like he'd been crying, what with the red eyes and sparse drops of liquid dropping down his cheeks.

The man let out a deep sigh through his nose as he stared at his own reflection before him.

“I feel like they show too much of who I really am.”

A confession. It came with an unnerving solumness tagged along with it that unsettled him. He supposed this was because it had been so personal as opposed to a casual personal anecdote that was fluffed for comedic effect.

Of course Peter knew about the whole ‘eyes are the window to the soul’ thing, but what kind of soul must Mr. Stark have if Peter couldn’t tear his own eyes away?

"Does anyone else know?" 

Do they know about your eyes?

…

Do they know about your soul?

Mr. Stark shook his head and eyed him for a moment before he was reaching over and shutting the water off, which now that he thought about it, had been burning him. His skin breathed under its new lack of suffocating heat but it still wasn't enough to bring his attention away from the way his professor's eyes entrapped him where he stood. Like a small white rabbit he was ensnared by the old rugged hunter that had little more to do than walk the grounds and maintain the dogs on chains in the backyard.

Peter though he gave more of a General Zaroff kind of vibe though, a hunter of humans and anything else that lets out a breath. A shiver ran down his spine as he dried his hands and replaced the bag onto his back.

"I know you're a physics professor and everything, but have you ever read The Most Dangerous Game?"

Mr. Stark eyed him once more, a favorite look of his, "I have, but I'm not sure what this conversation has to do with my reading history. Does one of the characters have blue eyes too? You do know it's not that uncommon Peter."

"Well with the way yours look it kind of is," he muttered under his breath, "but that's...no it's not because your eyes are blue. You kind of remind me of General Zaroff."

He could be blunt, and he nearly regretted saying anything of the sort because who in the world wants to be compared to a murderer?? It was only when he noticed the man look his way with two vibrant blue cataract eyes being framed by aging crows feet and those pearly whites on display that he let out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

Mr. Stark’s full undivided attention being directed towards him and only him was a little more than he bargained for, but it wasn't like he hadn't had it before. For reasons unknown to him, he might even say he enjoyed it.

A flush fell over his cheeks until the man looked away and began to wash his hands after fitting on a fancy pair of dense shaded glasses. Peter did always have an affinity for the red ones.

"Can't say I've ever heard that one before, but now that I have I'm not sure how any other compliment will compare...you've spoiled me Mr. Parker."

"I wouldn't say that..."

"Well I would." And for emphasis, Mr. Stark let a now dry hand fall to loosely hold his shoulder.

"Let's say we get going, aye?"

"You don't need your contacts on?" He asked, though the shades did a good enough job of not showing anything except for his particular reflection.

"No no. Those things are going to do more harm than good if I have to keep them in for any longer. I'm probably going to make an appointment and keep on wearing my old ones till then."

"That's something you need to be careful of Peter," Mr. Stark announced as they started down the hall. "Make sure you get the best–and if the best doesn’t work as for better. Don't let anyone tell you differently. Do you think I got to where I am while being a pushover like half the schmucks at this university?"

Peter shook his head. Of course not–Mr. Stark wasn't the type.

A hand, large and warm rested at the base of his neck alongside his backpack and it made him feel watched. He peaked up at the man and noticed the beautifully masculine side profile first–god how could he not? He must've been staring for a moment too long because soon his professor was glancing down at him and smiling once more. A jostle came then before he was let go of and gently shoved with an elbow.

It was nothing less than playful, and as laid back as Mr. Stark could be in class with his other students and his fellow academic peers like Dr. Strange or Dr. Banner–this felt infinitely more personal. There was no invisible wall between them or an estranged awkward tension that usually makes him cringe internally and squint his eyes into a wince.

No, thankfully it was only the dry air here at MIT that surrounded them–but even then how thankful can he be because the dryness usually made his nose bleed (and at the most inopportune times at that). 

Peter sighed and couldn’t help but let a smile rest easy on his lips as well.

– – –

semi-study sketches but i got lazy/tired and didn't complete peter

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 26 - Blood On My Name [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking, guns.

Word Count: 3000

Summary: No one can run away forever.

There were some days when you just knew it wouldn’t be easy for you, and today was one of them, that was for sure. It was as if after seeing how Spencer had managed to charm your family the other night and how everything was going well in your relationship, the universe had decided to throw in some difficulties to make it interesting.

For starters, you had forgotten to buy coffee the day before so you couldn’t even have your much needed caffeine. After managing to get rid of the sleepiness with a very cold shower and getting ready, you left your apartment to get to your car, and that was when the second problem hit.

It wouldn’t start no matter how much you tried, so you had to take a taxi to your office.

And as if all that wasn’t enough, Spencer had decided to call you with some bad news as well.

“You can’t be serious,” you whined, pressing the phone to your ear as you paced in your office, “Spencer, please tell me you’re not leaving me alone at a party I didn’t even want to go to in the first place!”

“Trust me, I don’t want to.”

“You have a case,” you felt the need to repeat, “Today of all days.”

“We’re flying there in ten.”

You heaved a sigh and plopped down to the couch, nibbling your lip.

“I’m really sorry,” he said softly, “I swear I’d be there if I could.”

You sook your head, “No, don’t be sorry,” you murmured, “I get that. It’s your job. Besides, it’s probably a life or death situation if they called you guys there.”

He hummed in agreement, “Probably,” he said “But are you going to be alright?”

“I mean I’ll probably drink a lot,” you tried to joke, “And miss you for the whole night.”

“I’ll miss you too,” he confessed, “They’re sending some agents to make sure the copycat doesn’t try anything at that party if they even show up, but… Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

“When am I not careful?”

He scoffed a laugh, “Do you want a list? Because I think it’d be a long list.”

“I’m always careful!” you protested, “Also, given our occupations it’s kind of ironic to hear this from you, I’ll have you know.”

You could almost hear his smile, “Just promise me.”

“I’ll be very careful,” you said, “Cross my heart. Besides, it’s Nolan’s company, professor. No one can walk there with any weapon, it’s a security company remember? Even I am leaving my knife at home.”

“Just don’t go anywhere alone, be in the crowd for the whole time—”

“Make sure to stay where security cameras can see me, I know.” You finished his sentence for him, “It’s not my first rodeo. Relax boyfriend, it’s just one boring party. What could possibly go wrong?”

“Don’t say that,” he warned you, “Bad things happen when people say that.”

“I didn’t take you for a superstitious type, professor.”

“I’m not,” he said, “I just don’t want to take any chances. It’s already bad enough that I won’t be there.”

“You’re telling me,” you said, “I was hoping we could hook up somewhere in there, it’s a huge building.”

You heard his chuckle, “You’re incorrigible.”

“Well it’s always Mina and Kenzie who have fun in these things, for once I want to have fun too!” you defended yourself, “Besides, don’t pretend like you don’t like it.”

“Hey, I said nothing of the sort.”

“Reid, come on.” You heard Luke’s voice and Spencer sighed.

“I should go,” he told you, “I love you.”

A smile warmed your face, “I love you too,” you said, “Go save some lives.”

You hung up, then ran a hand over your face, slumping on the couch.

“Y/N?” your assistant knocked on the glass door of your office before peeking her head in, “Hi, are you busy?”

“Not really,” you sat up straighter, “What’s up?”

“You wanted me to remind you when it’s time for lunch,” she said, “Also I sent your dress for tonight to your place, the front desk will get it.”

“Thanks,” you checked the time and stood up to walk to your desk, “Damn it, I’m going to be late.”

“I also called the mechanics, but they said it would take two days for it to be fixed.”

“Today just gets better and better,” you muttered and she tilted her head,

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Hm?” you looked up, “Yeah, sorry. I’m fine, it’s just one of those days. Since the morning everything is going bad, and I was hoping my boyfriend would be with me at this party, but he had something to do so…”

“Maybe he can change his mind?” she suggested, “See, I had this boyfriend once, and he said he wouldn’t show up to my birthday party because we had this huge fight, but then he showed up anyway.”

“Oh it’s not like that,” you shook your head, “There’s no fight, he’s just not gonna be in the city tonight.”

She scrunched up her nose, “That sucks.”

You scoffed a laugh and grabbed your coat and your purse, “It’s fine. Where are we on the Riley wedding flower arrangement by the way?”

“All confirmed, she says she loved it,” she said and you smiled.

“Thanks,” you said as you walked to the elevator with her following you, “I’ll be back in an hour, okay? Have a nice lunch.”  

                                                        ***

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Lincoln said as you sipped your rosé, looking around the restaurant you two were having lunch in, “How did you even break down your car?”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“When was the last time you took it to a mechanic to get it checked out?”

“When I bought it?” you said and he let out a chuckle.

“So you have no car for tonight?”

You pulled your brows together, “Tonight? How did you-?”

“You know we run in the same social circle right?” he said, “My dad’s company also does business with Nolan, of course I’m invited. That being said, I wasn’t sure if I would show up, but since here you are, begging me to help you—“

“I’m just eating my food here.”

“I can drive you there,” he finished his sentence as if you didn’t interrupt him and you tilted your head.

“I can just take a cab,” you said, “Or mom could send a car, it’s fine. You don’t have to.”

“Consider it my thanks for your unrequited advices on my relationship.”

“Oh you need more advice?” you perked up and he rolled his eyes.

“No.”

“You made up with your girlfriend then?”

“It’s complicated.”

“You really need to go to Italy for a surprise visit,” you pointed at him with your fork “That’d be incredibly romantic.”

“Is that right, love doctor?”

Your jaw dropped, “Come on, when have I ever failed you with my advice?” you asked, “If you love this girl, you need to show her that.”

“I’m just gonna play it cool.”

“That’s a terrible idea!” you said, “I know you’re not the romantic type, but you need to at least make an effort!”

He shot you a look “I’m a romantic.”

“Bullshit,” you let out a laugh, “You might be the most emotionally distant person I’ve seen after me, and you’re telling me you’re—“

“I believe that some people are meant to be,” he cut you off, “No matter the circumstances. Consequences be damned, anyone who thinks otherwise doesn’t deserve to be in love. I think if you’re in love, you should adore that person every day, and be there for them for better or worse. Whatever sacrifice it takes.”

You blinked a couple of times, shock coming over you, “Linc…”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for the woman I love,” he told you, “Trust me. Nothing at all.”

You just gawked at him for a few seconds before you put your fork down.

“I stand corrected,” you muttered, and he grinned at you.

“Yeah, how does it feel to be wrong?”

“Oh shut up,” you said and stabbed your salad once more, ignoring his laugh.

By the time your lunch with Lincoln was over and you got back to your office, your fingers were itching to text Spencer. Reminding yourself that he was probably busy, you managed to suppress the urge and waited for the elevator doors to open.

Erica was already waiting for you by the door and you let out a whine.

“Don’t tell me,” you said, “You have bad news because today has a grudge with me.”

“I mean it’s not bad, but I figured you’d want to know.”

“Give me some good news, like you saw a puppy today or they named a whiskey after me or—“

“Your mother is waiting for you in your office.”

“I said good news, Erica.” you reminded her and made your way to your office before you opened the glass door to step inside. Your mother looked over her shoulder, sitting up straighter on the couch.

“Hi honey.”

“Hi mom,” you walked to peck her on the cheek, “What’s up? To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I need help,” she said and you hung your coat, placed your purse on the coffee table, motioning at one of the interns for coffee before you leaned back to the table.

“Sure thing, what is it?”

“How do my nails look?” she held up her hand and you pulled your brows together.

“That’s what you need help with?” you asked “You do realize that this is why we have phones?”

“No, I wanted to talk face to face for my next question.”

“Ah, I won’t like that question will I?” you hissed in a breath, “Your nails are fine by the way.”

“It’s just that, I don’t know when Nolan will propose so I booked my nail artist for a month.”

“I want to have your problems,” you muttered as your phone buzzed and you checked the screen, then touched the text message.

From: Spencer

The power of Love borne in my lady's eyes

imparts its grace to all she looks upon.

You couldn’t help the wide smile pulling at your lips as you skimmed Dante’s lines, then thought for a moment and typed in:

See that you bless the day that I took you captive; it is your duty to do so.

“Y/N!”

You lifted your head, “Hm?”

“Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah, sorry,” you lowered the phone as the intern brought you two cups of coffee. You thanked her, then turned to your mother, “It’s just… Spencer is out of the city again, that’s why— never mind. What did you want to ask me?”

“I think I have an idea about Nolan’s proposal and this…potential marriage.”

You cleared your throat, “Uh, sorry. My client list is full.”

“Nobody buys that excuse honey.”

“I mean can you blame me?” you asked, “You would be the worst bride I’ve ever had to deal with, no offense.”

“First of all, I’ll just have a cocktail, not a wedding,” she said, “It would be inappropriate to have a wedding, considering our ages.”

“Mom!” you protested, “That’s not a thing! Anyone can have a wedding, fuck what society thinks.”

“Very delicately put, but I’ve made up my mind,” she said, “That’s not what I came here for. I decided, I want to be with Nolan and spend the rest of my life with him. So I will say yes when he proposes.”

“A surprise to no one,” you grinned and she shot you a look.

“But considering what people would think, I feel like I need to make a schedule. Do you happen to know when Spencer will propose?”

The coffee you were drinking went down the wrong tube and you started coughing, but your mother sipped her own coffee, patiently waiting for you to stop.

“Say- say what now?” you asked and she shrugged her shoulders.

“Yes, I was thinking I could stay engaged to Nolan until after your future wedding.”

“Mom we’re not— I’m—“ you stammered, “That’s not happening.”

She tilted her head, “Oh don’t be nonsense, you’re in love. Very obvious to anyone who has eyes, he couldn’t stop looking at you throughout dinner the other night.”

“Yeah but….” you cleared your throat, “I don’t think he’s planning anything like that.”

“Well—“

“I’m not going to ask him if he’s planning anything like that,” you cut her off, “I don’t live in Victorian ages, neither do you. I told you, you can get married to the eccentric billionaire puppy with a bowtie whenever you want.”

She rolled her eyes at you. “Unbelievable.”

“Right back at you lady.”

“If Nolan lets you know about when, you will tell me okay?”

“I doubt he’ll let me know, he looks like he’s got it covered.”

“And you’re still planning my cocktail party when the time comes.”

“Mom, no!” you let out a whine, throwing your head back, “Please don’t do that to me. I’m your daughter, you’re supposed to love me!”

“I do love you, that’s why I don’t trust anyone else with my wedding except for you.”

“Don’t trust me,” you said, “I’m begging you not to trust me. Planning Mina’s wedding was bad enough, you’re even a bigger control freak than she is—“

“Y/N.”

“I say that respectfully!”

She put her cup of coffee on the glass table, then stood up.

“Just remember, I absolutely hate carnation flowers and polyester gives me a rash.”

“Why does God hate me?” you wondered out loud and she kissed you on the cheek.

“I’ll see you tonight honey,” she said and walked out of your office, ignoring your overly dramatic whining. You buried your face into your palms, letting out a groan.

“I really should’ve drunk something heavier than rosé.”

                                                         ***

You had picked this dress thinking Spencer would like it, and now that he wouldn’t be there with you, you were two seconds away from changing it. You heaved a sigh, looking in the mirror before you fixed the tulle floor length skirt of the pale pink dress and pulled at the long sleeves adorned with lace. The small screen by the door lit up as it started ringing and you walked there to touch it, then told the doorman that he could send Lincoln upstairs when he told you he was there.  

Soon enough, the doorbell rang and you opened it.

“Hey,” you said, grinning when he did a double take and blinked a couple of times.

“Wow.”

“Bad wow?”

“Good wow.”

“Why thanks Linc, you clean up well too. Come in!” you stepped aside so that he could enter the apartment and he looked around as you closed the door.

“Nice place.”

“Thanks,” you said and checked the time before you went to the kitchen island. “You’re early.”

“And you started early,” he nodded at the wine glass on the kitchen island, making you shrug.

“I just have one e-mail to check for confirmation, then we can go.”

“No rush,” he said, leaning back to the wall as you looked at the photos of the wedding venue for your newest client, swirling the wine in your glass.

“You want some?”

“Nah, not yet,” he said, “Work stuff?”

“Mm hm,” you mumbled, “She describes the venue she wants as boho-glam so it’s going to be pretty tough for me to find a lot of options.”

“Your job is definitely more fun than mine.”

“My job is harder than yours,” you pointed at him and he scoffed.

“How is that?”

“Have you ever dealt with an angry bride?” you asked him, “You wouldn’t last a goddamn second. Just the other day, one of them tried to make me give her a list of her wedding dress options too, the one thing I’m not responsible from.”

“I mean can you blame her?” Lincoln asked, “You obviously have a good taste, look at yourself.”

“Aw thanks Linc,” you hit send, and closed down the laptop lid before you reached for your wine glass to take a sip, taking a step towards the coffee table.

“Yeah I’ll almost feel sorry for Spencer for missing it.”

It took you a second. For a second, it was all good and then you stopped dead on your tracks, a shudder running down your spine as your brain comprehended what he just told you. You could feel the goosebumps rising on your arms as you put the glass down, your back still turned to him.

“I never told you I was dating Spencer,” you managed to mumble through frozen lips and he chuckled.

“No you didn’t,” he said, “Erica told me. Family dinner with Spencer, it was on your schedule the other night.”

Your thoughts were like a tornado in your head as your heart started slamming against your ribcage and you turned to him, your eyes finding potential weapons you could use all around the room instantly and he tilted his head.

“So I know that there are about fifty things in this room you can attack me with,” he said, “But just so you know, if you try anything, your niece goes down. You don’t want your precious Lily to have an accident, do you? Because I don’t either.”

That red haze clouded your vision for a moment as your jaw clenched.

“I’m going to kill you,” your voice didn’t even sound like it belonged to you anymore, it was way too cold, way too calm, the shock leaving its place to fury roaring through your veins. A manic smile pulled at Lincoln’s lips and that dangerous gleam which you had seen multiple times in your father’s eyes appeared in his eyes as well before he took a step towards you.

“I missed your fire,” he said as if he was in awe, “So much. It’s been a torture to keep my distance from you. But honestly, Petal,” he tut-tutted, then reached behind him and pulled out his gun to point it at you.

“You should’ve known better.”

Chapter 27 

[mrsmaybank]

My Little Sun - Reid x Reader

“Ridiculously perfect.” I held her tighter as she looked up at me and our eyes locked, “I’ve fallen ridiculously in love with you.” “So my evil plan worked then?” She chirped.

CONTENT WARNINGS: AGE GAP, VIOLENCE, KIDNAPPING, PREGNANCY, STALKING, LANGUAGE probably the misuse of a Russian word  IF THERES MORE LMK 

A/N: Okay, let me be honest rq this idea lowk scared me but the words really just fell out of my brain really easily so, yk fuck it whatever.  ANYWAY, if you like, please let me know! 

pt 2, pt 3 “I love you Spencer.” The words immediately melted me. 

“I know so many things.” She gave me an unapproving look. 

“I don’t mean to sound cocky, but I do! Now for once in your life, listen to me.” She nodded her head in concession.

“I’ve just read more, I’ve written more, I’ve discovered and studied more than the average person. I could tell you a little bit about anything with one hundred percent certainty. I could--and want--to tell you the names of all the stars, I could recite verbatim the entirety of Prometheus Bound by Aeschylus or Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov, which you know, speaking of I will ‘cause I still can’t believe you haven’t read it,” Her smile flattened into a straight line, and I laughed. “Orrr, I could also tell you something simple, like why we get the hiccups.” I shook my head. 

“Regardless, I know so many things and I’m rarely taken by surprise because of it. Everything in life is a pattern of change, and as a human, we will always adjust and adapt to whatever situation we are in. For better or worse, we don’t feel the same thing for very long. This is why an addict takes a couple more every time, a sadist hits his second victim harder than the first, they’re searching for the high of the first time, and it will never come.”

She nodded in understanding, 

 “I know this is true, it’s factual, and yet every time I look at you it feels like the first. You’ve broken the laws of human psychology.” 

“First time you saw me was at a gas station Spencer.” 

“No. The first time I looked at you after I knew I loved you.” 

“Where were we?” 

“My car. You were dancing. You looked ridiculous.” 

“Ridiculously sexy? You mean?” She smiled. 

“Ridiculously perfect.” I held her tighter as she looked up at me and our eyes locked, “I’ve fallen ridiculously in love with you.” 

“So my evil plan worked then?” She chirped.

“It did indeed. You’ve become my solnyshko moyo.”

“Tell me that’s Russian dirty talk.” She said with a grin. 

“It’s better. It’s a term of endearment you’ve become the epitome of.” 

“And what’s that Dr. Reid?” she giggled. 

“My little sun. You’ve become my little sun. Following me around and bringing light and warmth.” She snuggled herself impossibly closer into my chest, wrapping one of her legs over mine. 

“Except for your feet!” I shrieked at her freezing toes meeting mine. 

“They’re not that cold you big baby!” she shouted. 

I laughed and kissed her sweetly, “I am not the baby here.” I said.  

“Please,” she started until I interrupted her with a kiss, “If you’re not the baby,” I kissed her again, “That implies I’M the baby,” Kiss, “And I’m not a” Kiss. 

“Shush baby.” I told her, but like always, she didn’t listen, instead sitting up to straddle me. My appreciation for her beauty was like how a prisoner appreciates freedom, and yet it was miniscule into what I found in her character. It blew my mind that a girl so perfect existed. 

“Rarely do great virtue and beauty dwell together. Francesco Petrarch.” I started, my hands making their way onto her hips, “That makes you a rarity.” 

“You’re spoiling me with nice words today Spencer.” “You’ve spoiled me. My frontal lobe is spoiled milk.” She laughed, wondering how I was going to manage to make this one romantic. 

“That’s the part of the brain responsible for sensibility and logical thinking, and you, little girl, have positively ruined it. You make me stupid.”

“I ruined the genius Dr. Reid with the 187 IQ? Makes sense. I’m like, way smarter.” 

“You are. So, so much smarter.” 

“I want that in writing.” she poked my chest. 

I pulled her down and kissed her forehead to whisper in her ear. “Not a chance.”

She pushed herself away and rolled her eyes at me like a bratty child does her nanny, and I continued, “ You’re smarter, but I’m more educated. I have more doctorates than you have years in university.” 

“Whatever…”

I brushed the hair away from her perfect face, “You tired baby?” 

She sighed and laid down, splaying herself on my chest, laying on me like I was the duvet. “Very.” 

I held her impossibly close, breathing in her scent and counting every time her heart thumped, her bpm said she was relaxed. Oh god, I wanted her like this forever. Relaxed in my arms, where nothing could touch us but each other. 

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“Must you work?” I sent the message to Spencer as I rolled over to his side of the bed in anticipation. I breathed in heavy, liking the way the pillow smelled like his laundry.

“Unfortunately.”  he responded. “Think you’ll be home this weekend?” 

“It’s not looking like it, little one. I’m sorry.” 

I didn’t reply. I was too sad to reply. I knew it’d make him feel guilty, which I didn’t want to do, cause like, his job and saving people and shit is important. But, it still wasn’t fair! At all. There was something very important I had to tell him. 

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Total darkness, and then way too much light. My head hurt and I couldn’t move. I was handcuffed to a wooden chair. There were chains around my torso and ankles. The room was a medical sort of bright. It smelled like bleach and rotting fruit. The walls were dilapidated, seeming to be made of tiles that were once white, but have turned yellow. 

What the FUCK? 

“Hello!” I shouted. My voice was so coarse it hurt. Shit. My head pulsed so badly it practically hurt to think, but I still racked my brain. 

Where am I? 

How’d I get here? 

Why am I here? 

I woke up again. Fuck, why can’t I think? Why can’t I do anything? 

“Hey, y/n.” A woman’s voice. A very stoic, cold, sounding female voice.

I’m not alone. Thank god, oh my god, I’m not alone. 

With the little strength I had, I lifted my head to see her. She wasn’t what I thought. She was alright, she wasn’t tied. She did this to me? 

She took a sip from her silver flask, “Do you know who I am?” 

I shook my head. “No.” 

“Typical.” She stood up and grabbed me by the hair, “You fucking disgust me.” Like, she said, she threw my hair away like it disgusted her. 

She sat back down on the bench in front of the chair I was chained to, “My name is Brook Austen. I was a professor at Georgetown last year. Taught a couple seminars at your school, that little university you go to, the students there were nothing like mine. Not nearly as intelligent, but as expected, Georgetown is much more prestigious, obviously.”

I was confused, and she knew, but did not care. 

“You’re not the brightest, y/n. Only slightly above average high school grades, strikingly mediocre academic performance now.”

Where the hell is she going with this? 

“And you know it doesn’t surprise me, per say, because every man on this goddamn planet is a piece of fucking shit! But I thought that, maybe, just maybe, Spencer was different.” 

She grimaced, “I thought he’d want more than just a pretty face! ‘Cause you might be prettier y/n, but I’m smarter.” Her words were laced with utter hatred. 

Her demeanor changed, and it almost started to seem like she was talking to herself. “I'm older. I’m more successful. I’m fucking better.” 

She approached me again, grabbing my face so I was looking her in those scarily light green eyes, and she wrapped her hands around my throat.  “I’m fucking better then you! Better, better, better!” Every time she said better she shook my neck and gripped tighter so I couldn’t breathe. 

“Stop! Please! Please stop!” I shouted, “I’m-I’m pregnant!” 

She began to break down, “You’re pregnant?” A maniacal chuckle left her throat, “You’re pregnant?”  

“Is it Spencer’s?” she asked. 

I nodded. 

“Wow.” She laughed once more, “Fucking wow.” 

“How could Spencer choose this!? You’re nothing like him. You are a pathetic fucking college student. A fucking daddy issue ridden slut! I’m a celebrated academic, just like him!” Tears began to slip from her eyes, “How could he not choose me?”

This woman is NOT well in the head. 

“You--you like Spencer?” I asked. 

“You don’t get to ask the fuckin’ questions here.” She pulled a knife out of her pocket and held it to the tip of my chin, “I do. So you’re gonna answer them.” Or, she started manically laughing, “I’ll kill you.” She swallowed, “And your baby.” 

I screamed at those words, “No,” I sobbed, “NO!” 

I turned my head away so I didn’t have to look at the woman in front of me, there was a timed red dot blinking. A camera. 

“Is that-- is that a camera?” 

She nodded, “I want Spencer to see you and his child die.” 

“He….No! No, please, No!” I choked on a sob and she smiled. 

“He doesn’t know.” She paced, “He doesn’t even fucking know!” 

She waltzed over to the camera and brought it closer to us, “Hey Spencer.” She began waving, “Hey Penelope. Aaron. Derek. Jennifer. Emily.” 

Her demeanor changed once more, into that of a cheerleader of all things, “So, quick recap.” Brook pursed her lips, “Spencer your twenty three year old fucktoy is pregnant. Congrats!” 

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

Y/N was two things I didn’t know she was this morning: In serious danger, and the mother of my expected child. I felt frozen in trepidation. 

We all watched in horror as Brook greeted us. All by first name. She knew exactly what she was doing and it freaked me out even more. 

“Reid, you need to step out.” Hotch grabbed my shoulder, “Now.” 

I was sick with fear and ill with rage. I sat down because I could feel my knees go weak. Hotch started again, “We know who she is. We will find her. Y/N will be alright.” He paused, “So will the baby.” 

I replayed the events of the live footage in my head, her screams of pain and terror, her trembles and confusion. I’d failed her. I’d failed her and now I knew I’d also failed our child. 

JJ sat down next to me, “Spencer, when did you meet Brook?” 

“I uh,” I wiped my face, “A year and four months ago. I did uh, I taught uh, I taught a string of seminars at Georgetown. It was biweekly. Her office was next to mine. We spoke for the first time when she offered me a coffee.” 

“What did you say?” 

“What do you think I said?” 

“Yes.” 

“Yeah, I said yeah, I fucking like coffee.” I felt instantaneously guilty for cursing, and especially at JJ but I was too frazzled for it to last long enough to apologize. 

“I know Spence, I’m sorry. Just keep going.” 

“Then, the next week, we got lunch together.” 

“Was it, you know, friendly?” 

“What are you implying Jennifer?” I snapped. 

“No Spence, we just need to know. You know that.” 

“It was-- it was just lunch. A very normal colleague to colleague lunch. We talked about the school’s history. And uh, where we grew up. It was small talk.” 

“Ok, was this the last time you spoke to her?” 

“No. There was one more time. Y/N was there.” 

“Tell me about it Spence.” She grabbed my hand, 

I breathed out, “It was the next week I taught after lunch. About two hours before my class. I was lesson planning, and Y/N was doing homework on my desk. She came in. She asked if I wanted to go get lunch. She saw y/n and--Fuck.” 

“What Spence? What?” 

“She asked me who she was, but it was like, she didn’t want y/n to know she was asking. She thought she was…”

“She thought she was what?” 

“A student.” 

“And what did you tell her?”  

“The truth. That she was my girlfriend.” 

“Did you see her anywhere else after that?”

“No. She never came by my office again. When I would see her by chance, she would scurry away. It was strange.” 

“Think really hard Spence. Did you ever see her again after you stopped teaching at Georgetown.”

I racked my brain, “Yeah. I did. It was two months ago. Three days after I proposed to y/n. She was getting a coffee at this coffee shop by y/n’s school.. I was bringing her some lunch” 

“Spencer she's been stalking you. Your proposal was the stressor.” 

“But--I’m a profiler. I would’ve noticed.” I stood up with a realization.            “What Spence?” JJ asked, standing up as well to look at me. 

“She’s been stalking her, not me. She knew I was a part of the BAU, she knew I would’ve noticed.” 

“I’ll tell the team.” 

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A/N2:  If this doesn’t totally flop, I’ll write PT 2, that elaborates on the reader’s and Spencer’s relationship. I think through flashbacks from both Y/N and Spencer would be a cool way to explore their relationship and of course the whole reader being kidnapped thing plot could develop. Again, if you enjoyed this pls let me know!!

[luverofralts]

Arkhelios University

“And then he came home only to find out that his wife was sleeping with his brother!”

Lucy chuckled, gesturing wildly with her story to the chagrin of her fiancee. Kaeileen always hated when Lucy brought her co-workers home from work, especially her boss, Michael. Professor or Doctor Michael, or so he always liked to remind Kaeileen. He never elaborated on what exactly he was a doctor of, and Kaeileen had no interest in asking him for further information.

“You shouldn’t laugh about that,” she remarked, shooting an exasperated glance at her fiancee. “How would you feel if you came home and found me sleeping with Abe?”

“Abe?” Lucy laughed. “I would pay money to see you get Abe into bed with you. Roman probably would too, so long as you didn’t actually lay a finger on him.”

“Nathan then.”

Lucy’s derisive snort of laughter only irritated Kaeileen even more.

“It hardly matters. The deal was made before he came home. His wife will live another five years at his expense, even if she chooses to live them with her brother in law.”

Michael’s calculated, emotionless comment didn’t go over well with Kaeileen, though Lucy nodded along with him.

“You shouldn’t be celebrating that either way,” she huffed, still glaring daggers at her fiancee.

“It’s my job, Kaeileen,” Lucy replied with a shrug. “He signed the contract willingly. We can’t just undo something legally binding because the guy’s wife is cheating on him.”

“And you wonder why everyone we meet hates you the moment they find out what you do. You two have fun being ghouls together; I’m going to find decent people to spend my time with.”

Kaeileen stormed out of the room, leaving Lucy and her boss alone to gloat about their most recent case.

“Hey Tenn, are you ever going to come back to play? You’re not even making out with your boyfriend. Come do something fun.”

No one had invited Nathan to the Rivales’ mansion, but he periodically showed up anyway. He occasionally claimed that he was there to “visit his sister” or that he and Tennyson were “close friends” who spent a lot of free time together. As soon as Nathan had left for university, he’d made sure to spend as little time as possible on campus. He seemed to pop up unannounced pretty much everywhere in Arkhelios, as long as it didn’t involve him doing anything academic.

“Oh, hi Kaeileen. Did you hear if lunch was being served? Lucy is paying the catering service still, right? They had this amazing sandwich last week that I was hoping they’d have again.”

“Nathan?” Kaeileen blinked in surprise to see Lucy’s troubled little brother standing in her living room, looking for handouts. “I thought you were at school. Did you move back home and drop out?”

Nathan shrugged.

“I’m still registered at school, and I took the mid term exams,” he replied. “There’s more to life than grades though. I figured someone as smart as you would understand that.”

“You’d be the only one who thinks that,” she sighed, rubbing her temples slowly. “Your sister and that- that monster have other ideas. Lucy pays the bills, Lucy buys the furniture, Lucy sets the schedules. Lucy insists on paying a catering service to make all of our meals like we’re some kind of damn royal family!”

“Ulyssa has it, so of course she needs it,” Nathan remarked, earning a laugh from his future sister in law.

“That’s the truth. Our business earnings are good, but they’re not enough to compete with Ulyssa’s household income.” Kaeileen’s lip quivered slightly at this truth. “Nothing I have to give Lucy is as good as what Ulyssa has. She says it doesn’t matter, but I know it does. She’s always comparing me to Ulyssa, even if she says she isn’t. It’s not just Ulyssa either. All of her coworkers think I’m naive and stupid. I don’t know how, but I can see their true forms and I can survive in a section of the demonic void, but none of them think that I have any value. I’m just their pet human’s favourite toy. Some asshole from accounting came over the other day and thought that I was serving drinks. In my own home! And Michael! God, he’s easily the worst of them all! He’s so pretentious, I just want to scream!”

Nathan raised an eyebrow, suddenly liking where this conversation was going.

“Tell me about it,” he said, reaching for her hand. “Maybe I can talk some sense into my sister. I know very little about where she works and what she does, but Abe’s not the only Chun she tries to push around and it’s time that changed.”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind, that would be great.” Kaeileen wiped away the tear that had been welling up in her eye and tried to smile. “Not many people want to listen about my problems. You’re a great guy, Nathan.”

“It’s okay to be angry about demons interfering with your life,” Nathan began, sitting beside Kaeileen on the ground by the pool. “A demon’s been messing with my life since I was a kid and I’m just supposed to shrug that off and get on with pretending things are normal? I can’t, and you shouldn’t have to either. Tell me, what’s Lucy’s problem? What specifically is she working on in demonic law? You can tell me; we’re going to be family soon anyway.”

Kaeileen scoffed at this, but didn’t turn away from his kind gesture of support on her shoulder. It had been an eternity since anyone had touched her with compassion. Her own fiancee was frequently cold to her whenever they fought about Lucy’s work, and Kaeileen couldn’t even remember the last time Lucy had initiated any kind of intimacy between them.

At least Nathan cared enough to reach out to her. Both Abe and Lucy were selfish jerks who only cared about themselves and how they could please the demons in their own lives. Finally, someone had seen how upset she’d been lately. Finally, there was someone with a kind smile laughing with her instead of at her. Finally, long suppressed vindication bubbled up inside of her, pushing to escape past the walls she’d erected deep within her.

“You’re a lot kinder than Lucy claims you are,” she said, placing a hand on his thigh with a sad smile. Nathan seemed startled by the physical contact, but didn’t remove her hand. “I don’t think she really knows you at all.”

Nathan placed a hand over Kaeileen’s and flashed her a confident smile. Her hand felt warm against his.

“I think the same thing about you,” he replied slowly. He didn’t want to misinterpret the look Kaeileen was giving him. Screwing this up would have consequences if he was reading her correctly. It was one thing to hit on Roman and sleep with Abe’s exes; it was something else entirely to piss off Lucy. “I don’t think Lucy knows much about you either. Aside from what the estate you’re going to inherit can do for her, that is. She’s never around for you and the few times she is, she’s ordering you around. You’re the Rivales family heir, not her. I think it’s time that you reminded her of that fact. Make her work for you and your family.”

“You’re right,” Kaeileen agreed, smiling weakly. “I need to show her what I’m capable of. I need her to make me a priority in her life. I need her to stop spending all of her free time thinking about work and talking to monsters. I’m the heir, not Lucy.”

“Damn right you are.” Nathan squeezed her hand gently, and Kaeileen returned the gesture. “You’re the heir, and you can do whatever you want. Whoever you want, really. Do you really think that Lucy is spending all that time at work thinking about you? You know she isn’t; you have to know that. Let me show you what you’re missing. What you deserve to have.”

Strange noises had plagued Pia for the past forty minutes. Every time she began to type up her latest report, something in the yard would interrupt her train of thought. At first she’d just closed the window, but it was still scorching hot outside and the fan in her office wasn’t enough to keep her heavily pregnant body cool.She couldn’t win. Either she sweltered in her office with the window closed, or she had the window open for a breeze, but had to listen to whatever horrible thing was happening in the yard.

How bad could it be? It’s probably just some animal that got caught in the fence outside. I’ll just help it escape and problem solved.

Pia stormed outside, ready to either help an animal escape their fence or ream out Tennyson for presumably making out a little too loudly with that weird guy he’d suddenly started bringing around the house.

Whatever she had assumed she’d find outside, she wasn’t prepared for what she walked in on.

To her shock, Lucy’s little brother was lying on the ground by the pool, cradling his sister’s fiancee in his arms. Clothes were strewn across the yard, though fortunately for Pia, the strange couple had at least kept their underwear nearby. Miraculously, Pia hadn’t caught them in the act they’d clearly just finished. She might have died from awkward embarrassment if she had. For all his attitude, Pia had assumed Nathan to be an angry, selfish lover who burned just as many bridges as his sister did, and liked things that way. This Nathan looked peaceful, and content holding his sister’s fiancee in the grass.

Absolutely no one was going to believe her when she “accidentally” leaked this out to Alex’s blog tomorrow. A picture spoke a thousand words though, so she made sure to discretely snap a few on her phone as evidence. This was everything she’d ever wanted and it had just fallen into her lap, no work required.

Lucy was going to be furious. Furious enough that Pia might have to call Melvin over to prevent a murder. Who would Lucy go after first? Did this mean that Nathan was dating Kaeileen in secret? Did they have feelings for each other?

It was all too wonderful to even comprehend what this twist of fate would mean for the future. Here she was, actively planning on ways to remove Lucy from the Rivales household and business, only to have Kaeileen’s infidelity take care of everything. Lucy was too proud to forgive someone who cheated on her, especially with her brother. She would call off the wedding, move back to the Helios house, and out of Pia’s life. Pia would surely be the heir now that Kaeileen had proven that she couldn’t be trusted.

The proof was there on her phone. Pia’s eyes searched the pixelated image for what felt like an eternity, looking for anything else scandalous in the photo that she could weaponize against Lucy. While nothing obvious came to mind, Pia returned her focus to protecting the precious picture on her phone.

I have to show Lucy. She might still catch them in a gross post-coital embrace if I hurry, but Mom has to see this too. This changes everything.

Lucy wasn’t in the kitchen, or the living room, or dipping her toes in the pool outside where she could see her fiancee’s betrayal first hand. Pia searched the entire first floor with no luck. For a moment, she feared that Lucy had gone into work to finalize some deal and there was a chance that Kaeileen could possibly reach Lucy before Pia did. She did remember seeing Lucy at home earlier though, and there was one more place she could look before she took to the streets to track down the woman who had become the bane of her existence. Lucy had periodically overtaken Emilia’s office upstairs when her case load was busy and she wanted to be isolated from everyone else in the house. If Lucy wasn’t anywhere else in the house, then she was probably there.

“Lucy?”

Pia opened the office door quietly, just in case Lucy was on the phone. She needed to stay on Lucy’s good side long enough to get her to look at the photos on her phone. It would also benefit Pia to keep a good relationship with Lucy in order to successfully transfer power when Lucy inevitably broke off the engagement. Perfect Pia could be pleasant and fake sympathy if it meant getting Lucy out of their house quickly. She smiled to think of the changes she would make as heir. The Yoxalls that had infested the Rivales home would be sent packing. Lucy’s annoying toddler would leave with her mother, and Pia’s mother might feel inclined to return to the family home once Pia was in control. Jolanda would probably also leave once Pia set some house rules that she knew her sister couldn’t keep, leaving the entire house to Pia and her own little family. Everything was about to change, and Pia could hardly keep from simply exploding with joy.

If Pia had been overjoyed to finally have an edge against Kaeileen, what she witnessed in Lucy’s stolen office was a gift from the Watcher itself. Pia had been ready to play the sympathetic friend to Lucy in her time of need, but all of that changed the instant she saw what was occurring in the office. Lucy didn’t need to be comforted; she was doing plenty of that herself.

Pia tried to stifle a gasp. She didn’t know much about demons and if they had better hearing than humans. Roman seemed to have normal hearing, but the man in front of her, happily pressed under Lucy was a full demon. A real real demon with no shred of humanity woven into him. Would he kill Pia on sight to silence her? Was he attached to Lucy in some strange unspoken way like Roman seemed to be with Abe?

Pia stared intensely, like she was watching a car veer off the road and into a ditch. It was horrible and interesting and terrifying all at once.

Lucy’s sleeping with her boss! She’s sleeping with a demon! What is it with the Helios-Chuns and demons? How long has this been going on? Does she love him? Was she ever going to tell Kaeileen about this?

Well, this changed things. For the second time that day, Pia revised her plans to take over the Rivales estate. She could treat Lucy anyway she wanted now. Kaeileen’s own transgression seemed insignificant to this. Emilia worshiped the ground Lucy walked on, and she might have been inclined to support Lucy if she forgave Kaeileen. But now? All bets were off. There was no chance of her supporting Lucy after this.

Pia quickly snapped a photo or two and closed the door as quietly as she could. If the demon had super hearing, she didn’t want to risk catching his attention and ending up like anyone who had ever stepped foot near Roman or Kamalani. She chuckled quietly as her fingers scrolled through her contacts list. Alex wasn’t going to believe what she was sending her. There were pictures of both Lucy and Kaeileen cheating on each other, and with the worst possible people. Pia longed to see Elaine’s reaction when she saw the paper. Would she be more offended that her son had slept with his future sister in law, or that Lucy broke all ethics in her workplace by being inappropriate with her boss? Either way, Pia won in the end. Lucy’s reign of terror over the Rivales family was about to be over and Kaeileen’s eligibility to lead finally reviewed. Things couldn’t have gone better if Pia had tried to plan this. The Rivales family estate was finally about to be hers.

[spoopylockerghost724]

Spectras origin

(This takes place in the late 40’s/early 50’s)

TW: sexual harassment will be discussed, stalking too, and Spectra dies quite painfully, also murder and revenge. This is not a happy story

Also, this is my first fanfiction I’ve ever written. I would absolutely love any feedback or critiques 

Edit: I actually wrote this on an app and I italicized the parts were Spectra was thinking to herself, but that did not translate on Tumblr and I didn’t realize that until after I posted this. Sorry about that

Penelope was always a bit uptight. She always had to have things a certain way. She didn’t have a choice. She always had to look presentable and professional. Not that anyone took her seriously anyways. She didn’t exactly pick a female dominated field. Everything had to be perfect. No cracks. The mask had to stay up 24/7. She crafted such a perfect persona, so that no one could see her flaws. But none of that mattered anymore, she was on her own now. It took work, but she was finally here. She had her own private practice and was even offered a job as a psychology professor at Amity University. She thought about it briefly, before turning down the offer. Working as a professor would mean that she would be working under someone else- most likely a man who would underestimate her- and she liked to have control. She liked to have power to set her own hours and make her office feel like home. And she would much rather help people in need than teaching a bunch of suck up undergrad toadies who would disrespect her anyways. She was so proud of herself. Her nameplate on her desk read: Penelope Spectra Ph.D. PHD! She finally had her doctorate. After years of blood, sweat, and tears. After years of hell on earth; years of listening to her professors talk behind her back about how she would never make it, years of dealing with her peers underestimating her, years of enduring harassment from others, years of her everyone saying it would be so much easier if she just gave up, years of her feeling inadequate. She finally made it. Dr. Penelope Spectra. The joy was incredible.

It had been a few years since she had opened her private practice, but the feeling of euphoria never wore off. Not once.

She had a great life. She had a nice house, a wonderful job, good health, and she got to help people. She didn’t have many friends, but she did have many admirers. She was always invited to parties. She never liked parties, but she had to keep up appearances so she went anyways. Why would anyone want to see an asocial psychologist anyways? So, she made herself look pretty and put on a show. Everyone loved her in red, so she always wore red. Everyone preferred her to be loud and charismatic so she pretended to be. She never really got to be herself unless she was in the office or by herself. It was exhausting, but pretending outside of the house/office was a lot better than having others think less of you.

The only thing about parties she really hated were the men. Like dogs pouncing on you. Sucking up to you. Sniffing you hoping that you will give the mating signal. All of those reassurances and little epithets to make you think that they just want you for love. No. Spectra wasn’t dense. She knew her worth. A young, attractive, well-off, doctor with a body like hers. They just wanted her for her curves and her cash. So many men had tried to take advantage of her.

She was in her room prepping for one of her parties. Her hair was curled to perfection, her eyeliner was sharp enough to kill, her eyelashes were high enough to reach heaven, her lips were blood red, she added a bit of eyeliner to enhance that beauty mark under her left eye, she adorned herself with the finest jewels and on her neck was a string of pearls, her dress was as red as her lips and her fabulous pumps matched. She felt like a million dollars, and she certainly looked the part. I might actually enjoy this party. For once she felt completely at ease. When she arrived, everything was perfect. The men were still flirty, but remained respectful. She was able to join in some polite conversations. Everything was going wonderfully. Then she saw him. That awful man.

She ran. She made up some excuse to the host and left. She hoped that he hadn’t seen her. Penelope got into her car, and floored it. She didn’t even take the time to buckle her seatbelt. She swore that there was a car following her, so she sped up. By the time she got home she was in full panic mode. She took some hydroxyzine, and fell asleep.

After a couple of days she had completely forgotten all about the party.

Penelope woke up on a beautiful Friday morning, did her morning routine, and went out to fetch the paper. Her paper was missing, but there were flowers on the steps. They must have been from Stefan. That man never knew when to give up, did he? Huh? That’s unusual, no signature. That was probably just Stefan trying a different tactic this time. Honestly men can be so immature, thats why she doesn’t date. She doesn’t have time to focus on Stefan’s antics. She had to get to work. She got up with a pep in her step and a desire to help.

Her first client of the day was her favorite. His name was Sidney. He was brought in for severe social anxiety and dysthymia. She loved to help teenagers the most. Her session went well. She had seen so much progress in the past year that she had been treating Sidney. The rest of her sessions went well too.

After Penelope’s sessions had finished up she worked on some paperwork and left her office. She found a note on her cars windshield. It was a very cryptic note. Almost like a riddle. Must be some sick prank from some kid. As she drove home that feeling of someone following her returned. She saw that car again, but it just had to be a coincidence. She got home took some hydroxyzine and had a glass of wine (yes she knows not to take hydroxyzine with alcohol, no she doesn’t care. Kids don’t try this at home).

Later that night she found a letter on her bed without a senders address. How did they get in my house? That handwriting looks awfully familiar. She didn’t read the letter, she looked at the signature.

The following afternoon she didn’t come back from work. Nobody found a body. Andy said that she went on vacation. Andy knew that her destination was inside the swamp he threw her corpse in.

Which is why Andy was surprised when she came back. Her sessions continued and she never seemed to acknowledge him. Although many of her male clients with assault accusations had a habit of disappearing after being driven mad. Nobody noticed how Dr. Spectra never aged. Nobody noticed a thing. Andy came one day to meet her, afterwards he was quickly thrown into a long term treatment facility. He was delusional and made wild claims about killing his ex girlfriend. A woman he had never dated who was clearly alive and well.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Death By Bagel

NCT Culinary Student!Mark Lee x Fashion Design Student!Reader Summary: Mark makes a cake cause he's realized he can't lose you to some f-boy. Word Count: 3k+ Warnings: Fluff, childhood au, college au, slowish burn, slight cursing, reallllly fluffy, some broksi-dude action, typos sksksksks, etc.

R E Q U E S T my friend: mark lee, slow burn, friends to lovers

A/N: I wrote a fic that already had like 1k+ word then I LOST IT (i think i deleted it) thus this. It took me 10 years to write this msmsmkskskks. PLEASE TUMBLR IS MESSING WITH ME AND MIXED UP THE ORDER OF SOME OF THE DIALOGUE

“As a doctor, I don’t think you should be doing that,” Mark says, not even bothering to look at his patient seated rudely on the floor. Oop, he’s lying down now.

Mark huffs and looks up from the clay block he was molding on his tray, “YOU’RE SO UNPROFESSIONAL!”

Mark’s mother nearly spits out her coffee upon hearing the words of his five-year-old son. Her husband snorts, “He got that from you.”

The woman throws a look at the man and was supposed to give a snarky retort, up until the sound of the doorbell ringing. She grins from ear-to-ear and dashes to get the door.

When she comes back to the living room, she’s accompanies by another woman and a tiny version of her.

“Markie! Say hello to your Auntie!” Mark’s mom calls.

Mark from the carpeted floor looks up and blinks, examining the stranger-woman and its human-ling. Mark turns to his father who was sat on the couch and receives a nod of approval almost. Mark purses his lips and waves at the woman.

The woman waves back and then crouches down to the little girl, “Baby, say hello to Mark.”

Unwilling, she shakes her head.

“Aw come on, baby. Don’t be shy. Mark over there is a really sweet boy. I knew him when he was in his mommy’s tummy, just like Mark’s mom knew you when you were in mine. You’re the same age so you’ll get along just fine.”

With the unnecessary explanation that gave no justification to the scene whatsoever out of the way, the girl was fooled into peeping up, “Hi, Mark.”

“Hello,” Mark says, not particularly interested, as his patient was still in the midst of dying in his office. He turned to his stuffed toy called Mr. Lion and attempted to stand him up once more.

At this point, the girl makes her way to Mark.

“We’ll be back in two hours, honey. Keep an eye on the children,” Mrs. Lee tells his husband who had been occupied with TV the entire time.

“Yeah. I got this,” he smiles to his wife then goes back to watching.

The bumble bee clad figure sat down to Mark in blue and watched him play.

Mark ignored her for a few seconds, needing to assert all efforts on standing that dumb toy up. Once successful, Mark turns to her, “Do you play doctors?”

Mark was then met with the same lack on enthusiasm. She hums, “I like playing baker doctor.”

All at once, Mark gasps, “ME TOO!”

It was unbeknownst to the children it was oddly specific and the chance of this happening was pretty slim.

And in a blink of an eye, excited giggles erupt in the room, as if they had been having so much fun before this scene. It was here and there the two would become best friends to the very end.

... so I guess it means the reckoning is upon us.

“MARK LEE I SWEAR TO THE FU--” “WHAT! WHAT!?” Mark laughs.

"YOU ATE MY BAGEL! AGAIN!" I growl in a loud whisper, throwing the wrapper at him and his flat head before he could think to dodge it while he annoyingly laughs.

"I asked if I could have it though!" he says, fully knowing his sins.

I glared at him and say lowly, "I thought you were referring to my notes, bread for brains."

Mark snorts loud enough for our teacher to wake up from his nap. Once the class notices, we all pretend to be doing something productive and Mark plays it off with a cough.

"Mr. Lee." Mr. Kim says sternly, clicking his tongue, blinking his eyes rapidly.

Mark finishes coughing and turns to our seated professor, "Yes sir."

"Don't go to school if you're sick and going to cause a racket with your coughing."

Mark nods firmly and Mr. Kim closes his eyes again, mumbling, "page 65 is due tomorrow."

The entire class grumbles. Mark beside me scoffs and makes a face, "Yeah, yeah, Doyoung."

I turn to him and elbow his side.

"Whatever," Mark shakes his head, "professor bunny-teeth won't hear me."

Once class ended, we both get our things and head out for lunch. We walk to our canteen, fussing over assignments, deciding we should do it together later in our mutually free period.

I groan and narow your eyes at him as we have an argument over how he hasn't finished the essay for English, "That's not the point."

"Yo Mark!" a voice calls from afar. Mark and I turn, looking for the voice, and I spot the dimpled senior, Jung Jaehyun, in a table with the rest of his squad.

I nudge Mark and point at the pale guy seated by the corner.

Mark throws him a smile and waves. I follow closely behind him as he walks over to the table. "We're going to sit with them?" I say in some sort of gasp.

"Yeah." Mark replies simply, not bothering to turn to me, "they're cool."

I knit my brows at that and nod, "Yeah I know. But I'm not cute today."

Mark stops in his tracks and throws me a confused look, "what?"

"I didn't put any make-up on today, also I'm pretty sure there's a visible stain somewhere on my jacket, I just don't remember where."

Mark scrunches his face up again, even more confused. "What? How do you... forget a stai-- that's not the point. Why do you wanna look cute today?" He scoffs and continues lowly, "hardly as if you ever look cute."

I let out an annoyed groan and punch Mark's shoulder. "Like when you panicked when Seulgi came over and asked for notes."

Mark openes his mouth, "That is so not the same! Jaehyun's a fuck bo-"

"Just shut up already," I snap and shove him forward so he'd continue walking. "Let's not keep him waiting," I add and mumble, "also I know. Dong Sicheng however is very cute."

Mark chuckles, "he's dated every girl on the dance team."

"Okay, maybe not that cute."

"Ya, Mark," Jaehyun grins and greets the said person with a high-five and chest bump. He turns to me and speaks my name with a smile. I smile back politely and wave.

I'm about to sit next to Sicheng, but Mark shoves me and so I end up sitting on the other side of the bench table with Jaehyun. I turn to Jaehyun with a small, non-awkward smile and shoot Mark a glare. He seems unbothered though.

"So, you up for a round later?" Jaehyun asks Mark.

Mark talks over me, "you know it, dude."

Jaehyun flashes his dimple smile all the stupid girls fall for. I'm only half falling for it cause I'm only half stupid. He raises his brows, "you bought the dough, right?"

This makes me knit my brows.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I really did this time," Mark mumbles quickly. "It's my turn anyway."

Jaehyun gives an off look, "that's literally what you said last time bro."

"Yo, no for real. It's in my bag, if you wanna check."

Jaehyun shakes his head when Mark begins to scramble for it, "no, Lee, it's good. We wouldn't want you friend to get dirty."

Is it just me or do you feel slimey all of a sudden?

Jaehyun then gives me a somewhat, somehow sincere smile, "so. I hear you're in fashion design."

I give a soft chuckle, "yeah. That's me."

"I could tell from a mile away. Mark looks horrible next to your getup."

I look down at my sweater and ripped jeans. Mark exclaims in protest, "shut the hell up, Jae."

I give a soft smile at Jaehyun, "don't know where that comes from but thanks I guess."

Jaehyun chuckles, "I'm kidding," he eyes Mark, "I saw your Fashion Design pin on your bag when you sat down."

"Oooohhhh, haha, okay, that makes sense."

"Ya, Jeff," Sicheng calls for Jaehyun, "it's almost time."

Jaehyun turns to his friend and nods. He turns back to me and Mark, "well, it's nice to meet you. Mark won't put a sock in it even if I beg. See you around, fashionista."

He stands and slaps Mark's back, "see ya later, broski."

"Yeah, bruh," Mark replies.

Once it's just Mark and I, I snap at him and blurt out in a whisper yell, "YOU'RE ON BROSKI LEVEL WITH JUNG JAEHYUN?!"

Mark gives me a weird face, "bruh, I think he calls the principal broski, for real."

I smack Mark, making him whine, "you know what I'm talking about, Mark! And what, are you doing drugs?!?"

He shakes his head in confusion, "Wait, what!? Who the hell told you that?"

"Uhhhhh you were talking about dough and showing up later. Sounds like you owe him money for drugs, Mark."

"??? In what universe did we even mention drugs?? Does this," he slaps his face, "look like a face of a drug addict to you?"

"A gullible idiot maybe."

Mark's jaw drops, "oh wow, okay. I'm done with this conversation." He proceeds to stand attempt to walk away. I scoff, "not on my watch bitch."

Like the true idiot that he is, Mark begins to legit run away from me, like a criminal who stole my cookies. It's embarrassing that he, a man much taller than I, could not even outrun me. I suppose I should be grateful, but this just fortifies my thoughts of him being an idiot even more.

But okay... I wasn't actually expecting this... like... Mark and Jaehyun... like... actually baking bread after school with dough Mark premade at home. Also, uh, Jaehyun looks super cute in an apron that I'm having a mental breakdown. And what's new, so does Mark.

"I can't believe you thought I was a drug dealer," Jaehyun says in a soft pout as he rolls out dough on the marble counter of his friggin large kitchen in his friggin large house. Like dang, I knew he was rich, but he's like Rich™ Rich. Rich with a golden diamond encrusted Rolex watch rich that's in a glass display rich-- wtf.

Mark wheezes in his telltale high pitched laugh as he opens a pack of unsweetened chocolate pellets, "she thought dough was some sort of metaphor or something."

"Cute," they say at the same time. Mark turns to Jaehyun in slight surprise and Jaehyun turns to me. I roll my eyes, though I feel my neck burn. I avert my attention to the scene I was sketching on my pad, Jaehyun and Mark baking croissants. I clear my throat, "I'm just making use of the single braincell between us, cause if he doesn't die falling down the stairs, he's gonna pull some idiotic stuff like baking with Jung Jaehyun."

Oddly, it's Mark that reacts to that with a, "hey!"

Jaehyun rubs his chin on his shoulder, "I also can't believe you think so little of me.'

I break a sweat but decide to answer honestly, "... ... ... You have a reputation."

"Of being a fuck boy?"

Mark loudly transfers the chocolates into a metal bowl, making the two of us snap at him. Mark makes a face, "oh gosh, sorry."

Jaehyun sighs, "well. I admit I get around, but that's only because I get dumped every time."

I raise a brow.

Jaehyun purses his lips, "nah, let's not make this weird. The croissants will be flat."

"Dude," Mark turns to him, "that's literally only because you messed up the recipe."

Jaehyun grits his teeth, "no. It's because Kun's a little teacher's pet and sabotaged me so he could get the best grade."

"No, but like Kun is really nice, he helped me with the fold techinique."

Jaehyun scoffs, "He stole me vanilla extract, Mark. Who does that?!"

"No, listen, he's cool, like, for real--"

"No, you listen, he's a little shit and--"

The two begin to bicker like a married couple, and I begin to draw inspiration form the scene to design some random sketches of wedding dresses.

I look back to the two and still can't get over the fact that I learned Jaehyun was a culinary arts major with my best friend, and that I was currently in the Jung's boojie home because I thought Mark was buying drugs from him. Not what I was expecting at all my day to go like, but I'm not mad this is how it went.

"No, no, no, no," Jaehyun says. He turns to me and points, "let's just get an outside opinion. Babe, what's your favorite color?"

"BABE?!" Mark barks.

I take a moment to reply. I blink slowly, "uhh... pink?"

Jaehyun bites his lower lip and claps his flour covered hands, "Right. Pink croissants it is."

Mark shoots him a glare and turns to me, back to Jaehyun, "she has a name."

Jaehyun nods, "yeah, and she wants pink croissants."

Mark makes a face and Jaehyun examines it, chuckling under his breath. "Wah, you two are something, huh."

No one really responds.

We began to always eat lunch with Jaehyun and his friends. It's funny cause I realized Jaehyun, although I still firmly believed he was out to get nasty with every other girl he sees, he was actually just like Mark. A total loser with a love for cooking.

"Hey," Mark says with a snippy tone.

I give him a look and suddenly receive a paper bag to my face. Mark sits on his chair next to me, as per usual. I smell the thing before I realize what it is. It's a freshly baked bagel. I perk up and smile, "Aw, you baked me a bagel?"

Mark raises his upper lip, "no. Jaehyun did."

I knit my brows, "what? Why?"

Mark narrows his brows, "do you, like, like him?"

I give him a look. I take a bite of the bagel, making Mark look at me in disbelief. I answer, "You do know I only hang with him cause you do, right?"

"Then why'd you eat the bagel then?"

"Uh, a number of reasons. 1) it's a bagel, 2) free food, 3) I'm starving, 4) it smells amazingggg."

Mark does a face, "fair. I've been meaning to ask how he does his seasoning for a while now too." He releases a breath, "and anyway, I'm pretty sure he made a bagel cause I told him you liked them. Never talking about you to him anymore though."

I look at him, "why do you talk about me so much to him anyway?"

"Uh because you're amazing," Mark says instinctively.

I feel my heart skip at that. I coo and place my hands on my chest, "wait that's really sweet."

Mark looks at me. His face begin to shift, "too bad it's a lie- haha."

I give him a look and rebut, "jerk."

"Loser."

As quickly as I found out about Jaehyun being Mark's friend, that's about as quickly as I found out he didn't like hanging out with him anymore. It's kind of a shame I never got to go back to his boojie house.

There was this one encounter I had with Jaehyun though... which was a little weird, not gonna lie.

He was waiting for me outside my Tailoring class, smiling and waving when he saw me. I Reluctantly reciprocated and walked over to him.

He releases a breath, "I've been waiting for about 20 minutes for you. I didn't know when your class would end."

I raise my brows, "you could have asked?"

"Well I would need your number for that, and that would have ruined the surprise," he pulled out a brown paper bag, reminiscing the same one Mark chucked at my face.

"I made you two this time," he smiles.

I take a moment to reply, "you don't have to make me bagels, Jaehyun."

He grabs my hand, "yeah, but I want something out of ya," he places the bagels in my hand. He proceeds to lead us off and we begin to walk down the hall.

Truth be told, it's a little scary that his ulterior motive is up in the air. Jaehyun places his hands in his pockets, "I like your dress, by the way."

I smile, "thanks. I made it."

He smiles and nods, "right. That makes sense as to why it suits you well."

I can't help but blush at that, and simultaneously feel conscious when I realize a bunch of girls in my course are looking at me and Jaehyun as we strut down the hall.

"So, what did you want, Jaehyun?"

"Well, I clearly wanted to ask you out."

"..."

"..."

Jaehyun smiles and give a soft laugh, "is it so ground breaking?"

"... Uh..."

He sniggers, "hey, you can say no. I mean I hope you don't but you can." Jaehyun leans in and raises his hands, "I won't like it, but a man should take rejection from a lady well."

I turn to him as he straightens up. I turn to the bagels he made me and bring it back to him. He laughs, "no, I made them for you really. It's not poisoned, in fact it's made with love."

I visibly react to that, which makes Jaehyun wheeze. I can't help but laugh back, "that was hella tacky."

"Worth a shot though," he says. "Good luck with Mark."

I look at him with silence and he chuckles, "ya, you can't fool me."

I'm about to retort but then Jaehyun gets called by one of the frats dudes I identify as Johnny Seo. Jaehyun does a curtsy and clicks his tongue, "see ya later babez."

"You know, I would have said yes if you didn't do stuff like that."

Jaehyun purses his lips, "no you wouldn't."

I shrug, "worth a shot though."

Jaehyun places a hand on his chest, dramatically calling, "Uh, rejection hurts, man."

Yeah, I never went to Jaehyun's boojie house ever again.

Silver lining though was Mark's dorm smelled equally as nice because of all the food he cooks, although it came with a whiff of axe body spray from his roommate, Lucas. It's cool though, he was almost never around for me to smell it in its whole intensity.

"Aite," Mark calls from his side of the dorm. I perk up from the two seater dining table they had and turn to Mark who was covering the cake he was making for his finals.

"Don't, like, peek, okay. I want you to see the cake all at once and give me your honest reaction to it. Please, like, all my lives kinda depend on it."

"How many lives do you have?"

"9, I'm pretty sure."

I stand from my seat, "not you faking your life as a cat, but get it I guess."

Mark raises a hand at me as I walk over, "can you not, I'm high-key panicking right now."

"Over what? You literally made a box of donuts for your midterms and it looked better than Misty Mreme! I'm sure your cake is hot."

"It was in the minifridge for a day. I mean it barely fit cause of all of Lucas' mountain dew."

I groan, "just show me it, Mark Lee!"

Mark whined and dashes over to me, grabbing my shoulders, "okay, but like, don't be mean about it. I swear, I might cry."

I give a sound and fake cough, "it's ugly."

Mark doesn't respond to that particular jab, "I'm serioussss. Please be kind, okay?"

I look at Mark's nervous face and give a soft pout, "Markie, please, not that I think it would be ugly, but I promise you don't have to be nervous about my reaction."

He isn't soothed by that, but he does release a sigh, "okay. So for context, Mr. Moon wanted the cake to be one or two tiers, but I went with one, cause there aint no way I'm going to the other side of the campus to freeze a two tiered cake. Then, the theme was something from your childhood, so, I, uh, thought this was fitting. The exam is 60 percent decoration, 40 percent taste by the way."

Mark gives me a hesitant look, but steps way for me to see it. I then see a heart shaped, medium sized cake in my favorite pastel pink color. By the top there's a little boy on the floor playing with a toy oven set and little girl in a bumble bee dress, holding a stethoscope. At the bottom of the cake, there were jelly letters spelling out, "I like you."

I cup my cheeks at the sight of it and feel my eyes start to well at the sentiment.

Wait... was this really happening?

Mark heaves in and out, "okay, so like when Jaehyun began to like hit on you, that sucked pretty hard because he's known for getting girls and I thought maybe he'd get you too and I got panicky. Anyway, I....... have liked you since we were kids... And... I know you probably don't feel the same way but I have to try, you know.... Yolo."

My feel my tears retract from what I hear. I rub my eyes. I turn to Mark and find his nervous face. "Did you just say yolo in your confession, Mark?"

He looks like he's about to throw up.

I can't help but chuckle and pout, "dude..."

I prolong the moment. Mark gets even more nervous as he repeats softly, "dude..."

"We could have dated in grade school all this time."

It takes a moment to register in his head.

Like, a really long moment.

I sigh, "Mark! I like you too, dummy."

He freezes and blinks. His face begins to burn. He breaks into a soft smile, "nice."

I break into a laugh.

"... Uh... So... Can I like... Kiss you?"

I snort and feel my own cheeks begin to burn, "I think you should refrigerate your cake first."

Mark snaps out of this trance, "oh shoot, you-" I give him a quick peck on the lips.

He is dumbfounded.

I feel butterflies go wild in my stomach.

"I'll wait over there for when you've fixed that."

Mark watches as I walk away, "yooo.... That's not fair though."

[keanureevesisbae]

But professor… - c.2

Summary: Penny continues to have some questions about the assignment, but thankfully professor Marshall is right there to help her out

Professor!Walter Marshall x Penny Townsend (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 2.3k

Warnings: Mentions of murder and blood

Masterlist // But professor… masterlist // Previous chapter // Next Chapter

My second criminology class, I was feeling a bit under the weather, but like the real die hard that I am, confusing to give in and rest (which would’ve be the better idea), I continued to go to class. I hid part of my face behind my scarf, while I would take a sip of my tea every now and then. I barely absorbed anything that class and professor Marshall must’ve noticed, because he didn’t call for me the entire class.

Thankfully.

But now I feel better and am going to make up for my lack of attention last class. While the the class can be pretty gore, it has become my favorite class, partially because I really like professor Marshall.

No wait, solely because I like professor Marshall.

I don’t want to admit it, but I kinda went out of my way to look presentable for class. I spend my entire life being invisible, unnoticed, but that’s not the case in this class. It’s nice to be acknowledged (I could do without Fitzgerald, who continues to creepily stare from a distance). I put on some lipstick, that matches my blush pink sweater.

Professor Marshall looks up from his notes when I walk in the lecture hall, one corner of his mouth curled up a bit. ‘Morning,’ he says, his tone low and brass.

‘Good morning,’ I say softly, walking towards my assigned seat. Since last class happened in a blur, I am going to pay extra attention to this one.

It is hard though, to focus. We have to understand the crime scene, trying to dissect what happened exactly. However, all the blood, fake or not, makes me want to vomit. I swallow hard and thankfully professor Marshall is skipping over me.

Until…

‘Miss Townsend,’ the professor says, ‘overlap between the victims. I want at four points.’

Four points? Is he for real? That’s a lot. I hate that I made a sort of good point the first class. I have to live up to that expectation now.

Think, Penny, think. ‘All victims are fathers,’ I start, ‘white collar workers and have a brunette wife.’ I try to remember what he told us about and what I read prior to this class. ‘They had affairs with someone they worked with, someone who worked a job that paid less than theirs.’

‘And what does that tell you?’

‘The killer has a type,’ I say, but from the looks of it, he wants more. ‘The victims are carefully picked out, maybe because… These men remind the killer of someone?’

He nods. ‘Exactly.’

I let out a deep relieved sigh, knowing that there is a possibility that he won’t pick me again. I see Fitzgerald looking over his shoulder, to basically gawk at me. He is going out of his way to say intelligent stuff during classes, but everything that leaves his lips is… Bullshit.

After the class ended, I stay for a bit, because of course I have another question. I might not be entirely stupid, but academically gifted is not applicable to me. ‘Professor Marshall,’ I say, as I walk towards him.

‘Miss Townsend,’ he says, ‘you did well today in class.’

‘Oh.’ Stupid me, blushing again. ‘Thank you. I have another question about the assignment.’

‘Why?’

Did he seriously just asked me why? I start to stammer a bit, taken aback from his retort.  How am I supposed to answer that? Maybe just stick with the truth? ‘Because I don’t understand.’

‘What don’t you understand?’

‘The case I chose,’ I say.

‘You have time at four?’ he asks. ‘To meet me in my office? I can help you out.’

I nod with a smile. I am going to his office! ‘Yes, thank you, sir.’

‘Where are your glasses?’ he asks, placing the presenter on the table.

He noticed that I wasn’t wearing my glasses today? Is it because I look stupid without them? ‘In my bag,’ I answer. ‘I sometimes switch between lenses and glasses. Why?’

Professor Marshall shrugs. ‘Just wondering. See you at four. Sharp.’

✎ ✎ ✎

I knock on professor Marshall’s office door at four sharp (I mean, he felt the need to emphasis it, so I should be on time, right?) and he says: ‘Come in.’ I open the door, to see him sitting behind his desk.

‘Is that… a chair?’ I ask, pointing to the pretty comfortable looking chair on the my side of the desk.

Professor Marshall nods. ‘I didn’t want you to stand,’ he says. ‘Don’t get used to it though. I plan on removing this thing as soon as you leave.’ He smirks. ‘It gives me the creeps. I usually don’t like people hanging around  in my office. Whether that is at NYU or the MPD.’

I take a seat and blink my eyes a few times. Gosh, I don’t think I have ever wore my lenses this long and they start to hurt a bit. Just keep them in for a few more moments. Be subtle. ‘My question is about the literature.’

Professor Marshall tilts his head. ‘Are you okay, miss— Penny?’

Apparently I’m not at all subtle. ‘Just my lenses, that’s it.’

‘You can take them out. Please, go ahead.’

Thankfully I brought my stuff with me and I grab my bag, searching for my glasses and lenses case. ‘The literature that is required for the assignment… There isn’t a list provided by you and I have a hard time finding some.’ I remove one of my lenses and continue to take out the other. Gosh, the relief. I put the glasses on and place both cases in the backpack.

‘I can email you a list of literature you can use,’ he says. ‘Why is it giving you difficulties?’

I shrug. ‘I don’t know, professor.’

‘Walter,’ he says.

Huh? ‘Excuse me, what?’

‘It’s after school,’ he continues, ‘so you can quit with calling me professor and start calling me Walter, okay?’

Walter. Seems so personal, so intimate. Not complaining at all, if I’m being honest. I nod. ‘Okay, I’ll try.’

‘Why did you choose psychology, Penny?’ he asks.

That’s a deep question. It’s almost like a first date (if I have to believe the movies, because yours truly never went on a date in her life). Why does he even care? ‘My parents thought it was important I went to university. They wanted me to become a doctor or lawyer, but I’m not that intellectually gifted. Besides, psychology might give me more of an idea of who I am or what I am. I traveled after high school, hoping to figure out who I am, but so far, no luck.’

Professor Marshall nods. ‘And you think criminology is gonna help you with that?’

I chuckle. ‘No, it’s not. Originally, I wanted to go for the child psychology course, to see if I could understand myself better through that, but I missed the enrolling date. It was either criminology or animal behavior.’

‘Animal behavior? That’s a course?’

‘Mhm.’

He nods. ‘Well, you’re really good in criminology,’ he says. ‘We could’ve used you in the force.’

I run my fingers through my hair and smile nervously. ‘No, I don’t think so.’

‘You noticed the droopy eyelid. Took detectives long enough before they realized that.’

‘Lucky guess.’

Professor Marshall leans back in his seat. ‘You’ve got to stop undermining yourself,’ he notes. ‘You are sharp, notice the details. You have a lot of potential, in this field or any other. I think you just don’t know it yet.’

My cheeks heat up. Is he saying what I think he is saying? ‘Really?’

He nods. ‘Really,’ he confirms. The professor keeps looking at me, but weirdly enough I don’t feel uncomfortable. ‘Tell me something what you want to find out about yourself.’

I clear my throat. ‘I don’t know yet.’

‘Tell me something about yourself then,’ he says. ‘Something that’s a foundation for who you are.’

I bite my lip and try to think of something. What is a foundation of who I am? ‘Well,’ I say, after contemplating for a moment or two, ‘I was adopted after I was left at a Catholic church doorstep when I was few hours old. I was brought to a hospital, where they found out I was a premature baby with heroin in my blood. They never discovered who my parents were.’

‘Oh, Penny,’ he says. ‘I’m so sorry.’

He is sorry for me? I bite my lip, before I say: ‘My adoptive parents are sweet, they really are, but I’m scared sometimes.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, because if I’m that unloveable at a few hours old, I bet I’ll become that later on, you know? Especially when they will find out that I might not even work in this field, because it’s not where my heart is.’

He places his underarms on his desk, folding his hands together. ‘You’re not unloveable,’ he says in a soft tone, ‘you could never be.’

I smile. ‘We’ll just have to see about that.’

The professor squints his eyes for a few seconds, almost as if he is trying to figure me out without asking anymore questions. ‘Tell me, what field has your heart?’

‘Cosmetology school,’ I say. ‘I know, a huge downgrade from this, but… I love stuff like that.’

He is smiling at me. ‘It’s not a downgrade,’ he says, his town a bit lower than before. ‘I bet you would be great at it.’

I clear my throat, a bit taken aback by the impromptu therapy session. ‘Thank you, Walter, for answering my questions. I feel like I’m bombarding you with questions to a point where it gets annoying.’

He shakes his head. ‘Don’t you worry about it, you could never annoy me.’ He grabs a piece of paper and writes something down on it, as I stand up. ‘Here.’

‘What’s that?’

‘My number. If you have another question or anything else, you can always text or call me.’

✎ ✎ ✎

Of course I have another question. Is it inappropriate to ask this much time and attention of your professor? I almost think it is, but I really want to understand the assignment and my other teachers aren’t as nice as Walter.

While I wish I wasn’t doing this entire major, I do want to prove myself, especially in my criminology class. I don’t want to let him down.

Oh my, have I taken an interest in my professor? That would be improper behavior, right? Isn’t this totally illegal?

Well, my feelings aren’t and he does not feel the same way, so nothing will happen anyway. No need to think about the illegality of the situation when it’ll never get that far.

I grab my phone nonetheless and the piece of paper and add him to my contacts as Walter. I check his profile picture. It’s a slightly blurry photo of Walter sitting in a police car, but even through the blurry pixels, I can still recognize him. The same type of sweater. The messy curls, the beard and the deep frown between his thick brows.

Me: Professor Marshall, can I ask you something?

Me: This is Penny btw

Walter: What did I tell you, Penny?

Me: Oh, I’m sorry

Me: Walter

Walter: Atta girl

My eyes widen as I read his text, while my heart skips a few beats. ‘Oh,’ I whisper to myself. This is making me slightly giddy. What is happening here?

Walter: What’s your question?

Me: I’m still having troubles with the literature

Me: You know what? I’m sorry, I am totally asking to much of your time and I shouldn’t do that.

Me: Forget it, I’m sorry

Walter: No, no, no, Penny, it’s alright.

Walter: I gave you my number, remember?

Me: Right…

Walter: The literature is your only question?

Me: Yes

Me: It’s just a lot and I don’t know which piece of literature is applicable to my case

Walter: You had case four, right?

Me: Yes

Walter: I’ll send you a list of the literature you can use

Me: You sure it’s not too much?

Walter: I’m sure

✎ ✎ ✎

During my counseling skills class I am in the back of the lecture hall and heavily distracted. This professor is incredibly boring and really enjoys hearing himself talk. However, I’m occupied enough. Since there is no on behind or next to me, I open another tab on my laptop, to see I have yet another message from Walter.

Yes, I said Walter. I’m not in class, so it’s not professor Marshall.

Walter: Still in class?

Me: Yes, still am.

Me: What are you doing?

Walter: Consulting on a case for the NYP

Me: Do you miss working for the police force?

Walter: I do

Me: Why aren’t you working for the police now?

Walter: I’m suspended

Me: Do I want to know what you did?

Walter: I may or may not have yelled at some guy, thrown around some chairs during interrogation.

Walter: Thanks to me we solved the case though

Me: Remind me to always be on your good side 😅 😅

Walter: You are, Penny

Walter: Don’t you worry 😉

Me: Do you enjoy being a teacher?

Walter: No, not in the slightest

Walter: How are your assignments holding up?

Me: It’s going okay… It’s just a lot.

Walter: I bet

Me: It kinda feels like I’m drowning

Me: Already

Walter: You need help?

Me: I can’t ask that of you

Walter: You didn’t ask, I offered.

Me: Okay detective 🙄

Walter: Did you just roll your eyes at me?

Me: No, sir, I didn’t 🙈

Walter: I can help you out, I promise

Me: Where?

Walter: My loft?

Me: Your loft?

Walter: Yes, I can pick you up from somewhere

Me: You have crime scene pictures around your place?

Walter: I’ll have them gone by the time you get there

[brekkerism]

Strange Addiction(Spencer Reid One-Shot)

A/n: So, this is my fic for the lovely @andiebeaword in the swap fics event that my lovely @imagining-in-the-margins hosted, and it was a blast writing it. Pom also was my beta, as always, and also the sweet @definitelynotkatesblog. This was super fun to write, and I hope y’all like it!!

Couple: Spencer Reid/Reader

Word count: 2.8k

Rating: 18+

Content warning: hinted age gap, smut, cunnilingus, professor!Spencer, angst, misunderstandings and fluff. I think that’s all.

******

I don’t know much about addiction, but if I had to guess, I thought it would feel something like this.

When his hair falls in his face, and his hands are so warm they manage to stop me from shaking.

When his lips taste like coffee and the way he insists on sleeping over, even if we both know he’ll never hold me until the morning.

Craving something that is slowly killing you, refusing to give it up.

It’s an addiction. It has to be.

Or maybe I’ve gone mad. ‘Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.’ ’ I could hear it in his voice, telling me that “actually the quote was never linked to Einstein formally, but-“

I had to stop it. I had to stop myself, and put an end to it. It’s been weeks since we saw each other, it’s the perfect time to end-

Ding.

“I miss you. Can we see each other today?”

A few words on a text.

That’s all it took.

Well. It’s supposed to be bad to stop cold turkey right?

******

He spilled coffee on me the first time we met. It was on one of the campus coffee stands and I was already having a shitty day. I would have been furious if I had the strength for it.

“FUCK!” Burning. Hot coffee burning it’s way down my chest.

“Are you okay?” The stranger that had spilled his unnecessarily hot cup of coffee in me said.

“Dude?! It’s fucking hot!” I tried to pull my dress away from my body, to try and stop the burning in some way.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I just saw this bird and it reminded me of someone and I got distracted and-“

“Please get me some napkins.” I cut him off promptly.

He did, and tried to help me clean up before realizing it was all over my breasts, and it really wouldn’t help his situation to touch me there.

“Again I’m so sorry. Uhm, whats your name? I can pay for your dress or if you’re hurt I can take you to the infirmary.”

“My name is girl you burned the tits of.” I snapped. “And I’m fine, don’t worry that much.” I finally looked up at him, with his suit, his fluffy hair and the scruff. Cute. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.” A professor then? Hot, older, professor. Wait, didn’t I hear something about this?

“Well doctor, you can just buy me a coffee and some pastries and, we’ll be even. Then you can go on your merry way and forget about the totally embarrassing afternoon that you spilled coffee all over a girl.” And maybe you can be so sorry that you slide me your number or something. A girl can hope.

I could have forgotten the whole thing. But he was himself: totally apologetic and cute, so tall and handsome, and his eyes-

I accepted his apology, and the coffee he bought me to make up for it, and we parted ways.

And if I went to my dorm and immediately tried to find out who he really was, it wasn’t completely weird right?

And yeah, maybe I sneaked into one of his classes, just to see what all the gossip and fuss was about (like I didn’t already know) but it didn’t start because of that.

******

It started way later at a bar. It’s not like I sought him out, maybe I had been going out a lil more than I used to in hopes that maybe, just maybe...

And then it happened. He was there, sitting at the corner of the bar sipping from his glass. Freshly out of class and all alone. The fucking universe. A chance to talk to him.

He was up from his seat, going for a refill at the bar when I rose from my seat before I even had time to come up with a plan or say goodbye to my friends, making a beeline to his direction.

Maybe it was the universe conspiring against us, or for us, because before I could tap him on the shoulder to get his attention, someone bumped into me sending me with force so that I would collide directly into him.

I luckily grabbed onto his suit jacket, stabilizing myself before I could do something stupid like fall to the floor and make a spectacle of myself.

He turned towards me, finally looking at who shoved him forward, and the recognition on his face was like relief washing over me.

“So, are you just gonna stare at me or will you buy me another apology-drink?” I tried my best to be charming and pretty, to keep his attention on me.

“Well this time I didn’t spill on you, so I don’t think I owe you one.” His smile. Fuck. He had a great smile.

“Okay. I’ll buy you one then.” I called over the bartender, getting him his scotch refill and something for me. Before he had the chance to do anything, I was taking the drinks back to his table. We wordlessly sat down and drank from our glasses.

“Should I ask why you went to one of my classes?”

Oh. oh. He saw that.

“Should I ask why you didn’t kick me out?”

“I asked first.”

“And I still don’t want to answer.” I pretended to inspect my shoes, racking my brain for ways to keep him here, talking to me. “Why are you drinking tonight?”

“You know, you ask a lot of questions for someone who won’t answer any of mine.”

“It’s part of my charm. So, what’s the reason?”

“What?” He did this cute thing with his nose, kinda scrunching it up, and he never stopped licking his damn lips, and maybe it was the alcohol in my system but I wanted to see how he tasted.

“There���s not that many reasons to be drinking alone at a sad college bar. You either have a problem with booze, can’t get a date, are drowning your sorrows, or trying to forget something.”

“Why don’t you try to guess?”

“Hm.” I leaned back on my seat to study him, using it as an excuse to look him head to toe. ”You’re both too put together and uncomfortable enough in this setting to have a problem. You’re too hot and have like, a billion college girls trying to get in your pants, so it’s not the date thing. You don’t look melancholic enough to be drowning your sorrows, especially with that choice of drink. So, who are you trying to forget, then?”

“Can’t a man just want to get a drink?” He chuckled.

“But that option would be no fun.” I could feel myself pouting and my cheeks getting warmer. Maybe it was the alcohol catching up to me.

“Well, it’s suiting, since I’m no fun.”

“That’s a lie. I’m talking to you and I’m having a blast” it was a joke on his part, but the way he said it sounded upset. Truthful. I wanted to make it go away.

“Kinda sad if this is your definition of a blast.” It sounded like a joke, but the way he said it... he sounded upset. I wanted to make it go away.

“Maybe it’s just because you’re hot. Who knows.”

“That's the second time you called me that.” He said it suspiciously, like he doubted that I really thought that.

“Can’t help it if it’s true.” I’m ridiculously attracted to you, I thought. Can you please realize that soon?

“What about you. What are you doing here?”

“Same reason as you.” Lies. Little liar. I’m here because I have been waiting and hoping to see you again, somewhere, anywhere.

“To drink cheap scotch?”

“To forget.” I’m so fucked up. I’m lying to the guy for what? So he can relate? That’s so stupid.

“Who is he?”

“Who is she?”

“She’s... A friend.” Oh. So there was a she. Shit. But that meant... was he looking for a rebound? A shoulder to cry on?

“Some guy I met at college.” You.

“Wow, an answer from you.”

“Wild, right? Next you’ll ask me my name and I’ll actually give it to you.”

“Your name isn’t actually ‘girl you burned the tits of’? Shocking.”

“No, I could only hope to be named something as elegant as that.” He laughed at that. If I could bottle up the sound, I would. Hell, I wanted it as my new ringtone. “C’mon, that’s what you laugh at?”

The night kept moving, and I learned little things, like that he worked for the FBI, his socks were mismatched, he didn’t blush at my dirty jokes after a while, and he was exceptionally bad at taking shots, but exceptionally good at magic tricks. It was nice. It was more than nice. It caused my face to flush and made my knees go weak.

“You should tell me your name now.” The seriousness in his voice made something inside me tremble, and warmth rose up deep in my guts.

“W-why?”

“Because I won’t fuck you if I don’t know your name.” Finally. Fucking finally.

He was giving me a out. If I wanted, I could just say ‘no, thanks.’ and walk away.

Jokes on him if he thought I would give up that easy.

“(Y/n). My name is (y/n).” He took a shuddering breath in, lowered his hands down to my upper thigh and squeezed.

“Go to the second to last stall in the bathroom and wait.” There was no room in his voice for questioning. I did it anyways.

“Here?”

“Here.” He confirmed with a firm nod, his eyes never leaving mine.

We were both too desperate for it.

And it happened. In the second to last stall of a dirty bathroom, with him fucking me against the door and whispering dirty things in my ear. It was perfect, it was fucking heaven. It made me crave.

It happened again in my dorm room. Again and again. And then in his apartment. In his empty office. In my car. In his car. Not as frequently as I like, with his job at the FBI and teaching, but more than it should be for what we had. We weren’t in a relationship. We were just fuck buddies. And yeah, maybe he also gave me his time with the sex, with the sweet words, the occasional lunches and the not-dates to his favorite bookstore, but it didn’t mean anything. Six months in, and he didn’t seem any more over the mysterious girl he had loved for decades.

He was just using me to get over the woman he truly loved. The young college girl who he thought was also in love with someone else was the easiest choice. The least messy.

But it was messy. Because there was nobody else. There was just him. He was the one I was in love with.

I was trying to get over Spencer Reid, by sleeping with Spencer Reid.

Funny, right?

******

I didn’t have to knock twice at his door.

He hugged me as soon as he opened it. I melted into him, like I always did. He smelled like coffee and home to me.

“Rough day?” I asked.

“Rough week. Rough month.” Yeah, I think I know the feeling.

“Can I help?”

“Always. You always help.” He said softly.

Stop saying things like that. Stop making me feel like this.

“Come here little girl.” He led us to his bedroom, sitting on the bed and guiding me to his lap. It felt safe. Felt loving. “You’re always so pretty for me. So good. You don’t even know how much I.... how much I want you.”

He took my dress off with ease, kissing a wet trail from my face, to my neck, to my tits. I wanted his hands everywhere, I wanted him to touch me, to make me forget why I ever considered stopping this.

“You’re gonna be good for me right? You’ll be a perfect girl?” Always. Just for you.

“Yes.”

“That’s my girl.”

His girl. I was his. I will always be his.

He just wasn’t mine.

I swallowed back the tears and tried to push down the lump in my throat. He needed me and I wanted to please him, to be good, to show him how much I loved him with this.

He always knew how to work my body, and this moment was no exception. Always knew how to make me go crazy with a swipe of his tongue on my pussy, a finger curling inside me, a thumb circling my clit. Sometimes I thought he was the only one that knew me at all. I was probably right.

The orgasm built and built and built, and I couldn’t do anything but hold on to his hair and smother him between my thighs while I rode it out. He was perfect. It was perfect.

I wanted it forever.

Tears. Pooling on the corners of my eyes, rolling down, no matter how hard I tried to blink them away.

It was killing me.

I loved him. Three little words. I love you. I love you I love you I love you I love you-

“I love you.” It felt natural rolling off my tongue. It felt okay. The world would still spin if he knew I love him. I might not have him anymore, but it would be okay.

“W-what did you just say?” He rose from his place between my legs, the frown on his forehead and his shaking hands making me just as nervous as he was.

“I love you. I’m in love with you. I’m sorry.”

“You’re... Why are you sorry?” That was the part he was worried about?

“Because I didn’t mean to. I know you can’t love me back. I’m sorry.” I retreated from him, bracing myself as tight as I could. Maybe I could use his shock to my advantage; dress quickly and leave. There wouldn’t be any awkwardness or tears or rejection-

He was kissing me. He was kissing me, coaxing my mouth open with his tongue, holding on to me like I would disappear if he didn’t ground me to him.

“We’re so stupid. I’m so, so stupid.” He was saying the words in between kisses, like he couldn’t take the time to pull away from me and actually talk.

What was happening?

“How can you not know? I thought you knew, I thought that was the whole reason-“ more kisses now, all over my face and my mouth.

“Spencer, what are you talking about?”

“Listen to me. I love you. I’m in love with you. I have been for a while now.” He was holding my face in his hands.

I must have gotten into a car accident on the way to his apartment. I was dead, or dreaming, or hallucinating.

He loved me?

He loved me.

“I thought the reason you were pulling away from me is because you knew, because I’m a shitty liar when it comes to you, and I don’t know how to hide how desperately in love with you I am.” He continued to ramble and I almost couldn’t keep up. I felt like I was inside a dream. “I was so sure you still loved the guy from your school, and I didn’t want to risk losing you, losing us, so I didn’t tell you. I’m so dumb.”

“But... but what about her? The woman you love? Your friend?”

“She’s just that: a friend. I think because we never had a shot at having a romantic relationship, I idealized it for so long. I thought that it was love. But I met you. I got to know you. I got to love you. This is love. Whatever I felt for her doesn’t come close.“

Blissful. I felt blissful. I felt like the universe gave me everything I wanted all at once.

“I love you. I’ve loved you since I met you.” I get to say it. I get to say it, I get to love him, and have him.

I needed him. Now. I needed to make love to him, needed to be his.

We kissed for too long, slow and sweet and perfect. When he drove himself inside my body, he looked into my eyes and told me how good I was for him, how much he loved me. When I came, it was with his name on my lips. It was everything. It was impossible for someone to be so right for me. He was everything.

We laid next to each other, too needy to not be touching every moment possible. My legs tangled between his, my hand in his.

Everything was out in the open, and we were together.

Except…

“Spence…”

“Yeah?”

“Remember the guy at college that I liked? The one I was trying to get over?”

“Yes” his tone was tentative, like he halfway expected me to take back all that was said between us.

“He... kinda doesn’t exist. Well, he also kinda does, but I think it might be you.” He was silent, and for a moment I thought he fell asleep and didn’t hear me.

“…Honestly, I shouldn’t be surprised” there wasn’t any anger in his tone whatsoever, and the last of my worries was gone.

“Still love me?”

“Always, pretty girl.”

And I guess that was more than okay.

[ktheist]

life is yours

muses. professor!fiancee!namjoon x reader x fiancee’s friend!past life husband! expecting father!yoongi

genre. reincarnation au. college au. pregnancy au.

word. 1.7k

x

you loved min yoongi, you’d die for him.

and died for him you did. when the traitors came for your king, you’d leaped in front of him and took a swing of the treacherous sword. history books portrayed him as the king who went mad. the king who slayed hundreds of lives in one night and ruled for fifty more years as a tyrant.

what are histories if not painted with a tragic romance?

they said it was because of you he went mad. because he lost his queen, his breath.

a few hundred years later, he’d found her again. at the age of twenty-seven and you, twenty-two.

his girlfriend was pregnant with his baby and you were professor kim namjoon’s student-turned-fiance.

“it’s funny, you know,” you took a whiff of the cigarette and breathe out through your mouth, “we can walk out of our current relationships and ruin everyone’s perception of us, or we can just lead the life we’re living like we didn’t remember anything.”

yoongi squints his eyes as he stares up at the sun. lips tucked downwards, as though telling the universe that after one lifetime too many, he’s unimpressed.

“or we could just run away,” he recalls the flames of the torches of that night - not as bright as today’s sun but just as mocking, “forget about everything and run away.”

“you make it sound so easy,” a laugh escapes your smoke kissed lips, “it’s not as if the people we’ve known and loved are fake, faceless puppets.”

this life is just as real.

though it would’ve gone much different if you’d met each other sooner.

yoongi taps the pointed corner of the invitation card on his palm. it tickles but it’s nothing compared to the burning sensation as he held onto the handle of the sword despite it grazing his flesh.

“how far along is she?” his girlfriend, you mean. 

walking into namjoon’s office - the office you’d snuck into a few times too many but felt utterly alien - you saw the porcelain, snow-kissed complexion of your king. all at once, the memories hit you like a rain of shards.

and in each, individual shard, you see the images of your first step, first drawing, first embroidery and the first time you met yoongi. an arrogant boy whom you pushed into the koi pond.

the same boy who smirked at you the whole time during your engagement ceremony while you squirmed in your seat, scheming a runway and an apology at the same time.

and the man who strutted into the room, plopped on the left side of the bed and bade you good night on your first night as a married couple.

it was until three months later, that you trapped him under you and confronted him about it.

you thought yoongi, the crown prince turned king, had a lover. but he loved you too much to hurt you. they said you’re supposed to bleed on your first time. you laughed until your stomach hurt because you were happy beyond words that your husband was abstaining himself for you and not going around fucking a lover behind your back.

not even a year later, you caressed your stomach and giggled to yourself, thinking about yoongi’s stone cold expression turning pink and speechless. that night, the rebellion happened.

your last memories was of him holding you in his arms and calling out your name. 

in this lifetime, your first memory of him is watching him smile a familiar smile that screamed awkwardness as namjoon relayed their youthful tales.

that was, until he got to the part where yoongi’s about to be a father.

all of a sudden, there’s a knot in your stomach. it twists and tightens until you feel like you’re going to puke if you didn’t excuse yourself, saying something about calling your mom that you’d be having dinner with namjoon and letting the two men catch up.

“ten weeks. we’re ten weeks pregnant,” he sucks in a deep, agonized breath - and from the way he’s gazing up at the sky with his hands on his hips, you don’t think he meant to hide his afflictions.

the way he refers to himself and her as ‘we’ makes that knot all the more painful.

“i was a seven weeks pregnant,” you smile softly to yourself, gazing down at your stomach as if you could feel your baby from your previous lifetime.

you shouldn’t have said it.

should’ve just kept quiet.

but-

“they told me you were eight weeks in,” the soft, breathless tone that comes from yoongi is  what makes your heart beat again.

as if you’d come to life. as if min ___, the queen of joseon had come back to tell her king the one thing she wished to say. the one thing she wished for.

a family.

“taeyang. i was going to name him taeyang because he was going to be the sun of the dynasty and bring peace to the nation,” you laugh and it’s the choked up sound that you make that makes you realize you’re on the verge of crying.

“never thought i’d be talking about histories and dynasties with anyone - i hate history,” the confession slips out of you like you’re talking with an old friend. someone you trust wholeheartedly. someone you know you can confide in. 

yoongi was your friend, your lover, your king.

“come with me. i have a savings account, we can start anew somewhere, we can have what we couldn’t have back then.” he turns to you and looks at you in the eye. 

“what about your baby?” you ask because you know it’s meant for his future family.

“i’ll send child support every month,” he says.

“your parents?” you ask because his mother was a concubine and the king barely remembered his name out of the names of his many children.

in this lifetime, from the way namjoon candidly told the story, you know they love their eldest son as much as he loves them.

“they’ll adore you,” he says.

“no one’s gonna love a homewr- ah,” you hiss, dropping the cigarette that was trapped between your fingers until it burned your skin.

“___,” a familiar, deep but less gravelly tone reverberates against the walls as namjoon comes jogging at you like you’re a kid who just bruised her knee.

you study his face and yoongi’s eyes burn holes in your head.

from the way he meets your gaze and gives you ‘your fingers almost got burned and you’re looking at me?’ you think it’s safe to say that he didn’t hear what you were saying.

“i’m fine, i just burned my fingers because i got too engulfed in yoongi’s stories about how you two met,” you laugh at how namjoon’s inspecting your fingers more attentively than a doctor would.

“another reason to include in the long list of reasons not to smoke,” your finacee chides.

“that was my last,” you announce in a higher pitch than your usual voice - and that’s how namjoon knows you’re half-joking, even when you- “i promise.”

“anyways,” you place the injured hand on his chest to distract him - the way yoongi’s jaw tighten doesn’t go past you, “i talked to my dad because apparently my mom was cooking and couldn’t come to the phone and he said to tell you to bring me back before curfew.”

it’s the way namjoon freezes underneath your touch, his eyes blinking once and his soul retreating far back into his subconscious that makes you giggle.

“i’m kidding.”

only then, does he breathe again.

“my mom wasn’t cooking, she was watching her favorite show,” you say again.

it takes a split second for namjoon to put two and two together and tenses up again. as if he feels your father’s hardened gaze behind him. your father didn’t take it too well when you introduced your professor as your boyfriend who proposed to you a week before.

“it was nice meeting you, yoongi, we look forward to see you at our wedding,” you extend a hand, the playful smile reserved for namjoon, now directed at your king.

the king whom you died for. and the king who you’re telling to live his life, as you’ll live yours.

“wouldn’t miss my best friend’s wedding for the world,” he smiles, his hand grasping yours and you thought you’re going to combust from the electrifying sensation that runs through your veins.

but it’s only short-lived. 

you pull your hand away and he summons his back to his side.

he turns to namjoon and gives him a pat on his shoulder, congratulating him again but this time, with a lingering stare before walking past the two of you and towards the parking lot.

“professor, i’ll get my purse from your office and we’ll be good to go.” you say absently before skipping to the opposite direction of where yoongi was headed.

with each step you take, you hear your heart breaking. just like the pieces of your memories that rains down like shards of glass.

you wonder if you’ll make it through this life without dying of a broken heart.

“i thought we fixed that?” namjoon murmurs behind you, just as you sling the strap of your purse over your shoulder.

“hm?” you turn to the man leaning against the doorframe, observing you with a crease between his brows.

“you called me professor again,” namjoon mumbles almost as if he’s sulking.

and your heart warms at the tender sight of a grown man acting like a child. you’re reminded of the reason you fell for kim namjoon. his gentle nature was the opposite of yours yet he laughed at your jokes like he laughed off your flirtatious advancements.

he told you he saw you as a student and lent you his scarf when he saw you shaking in the cold while waiting for your uber. the next time he saw you, at 11 pm before the library closes, he offered to drive you home even though his was in the opposite direction from yours.

“namjoon,” you say his name, a smile tucked on your lips as you wrap your arms around his waist and his arm that had been crossed over his chest instantly makes it way around you, “thank you.”

“for what?” his eyes light up like a christmas tree, dimple digging into his cheek.

“for choosing me,” you stand on the tip of your toes and he meets you halfway for the kiss.

and you loved min yoongi, you died for him.

you love kim namjoon, you choose to live the rest of your life with him.

x

note. so like, the title - technically, it’s like oc saying “my life is yours” to both yoongi and namjoon but in different lifetimes :D

[the-bat-collector]

SUPERBAT Rec List!! AU NO POWERS ish PART 1

I love NO POWERS NO CAPES AUs but its been so hard to find them!! so decided to make this list to help y’all in your search  :D

The length varies, but I prefer long fics so most of these are 10-20k up to 200k 

Heart and Soul by Pandamomochan

E - 150,044

Clark Kent used to be a renowned composer who was said to be able to write masterpieces that were designed uniquely for each individual player. Famous musicians around the world would flock to him in hopes that he would write for them because his pieces were always said to bring out any player's crowning performance. That is, until one day Clark loses his wife in a tragic accident and decides never to write again.

Years later, Clark's son, Jon, gets admitted to the famous "Gotham School of Performing Arts". It is there that Clark meets Bruce Wayne, a strict, uptight, by the book piano instructor who is said to be able to craft the best musicians around the world.

this is one of my favorites. I'm not really into Hurt/Comfort but this is so beautiful!! highly recommended I'm biased cause I play the piano

Seeing Bruce Wayne by Evilpixie

E - 15,089

Clark Kent is the only male midwife working in Metropolis General. Bruce Wayne the residential pediatric surgeon.

I'm so into medicine/doctor AUs this is also one of my favorite fics!if you have to pick one from this list, pick this one!!!

On The Cusp by vesper_house

E - 47,378

Clark's life isn't going so well. He's in his thirties, he works at a coffee shop run by his old crush, his journalism career is going nowhere, and he's broke. It takes only one tall, dark and handsome stranger to change everything.

COFFE SHOP AU COFFESHOP AU!! We need more of these, the dynamic between Bruce and Clark is Great!!!!

A Game You Can't Win by NightFoliage

T - 78,328

Injustice is the hottest MMORPGs available to play! Set in a world where superpowers exist, players can become civilians, heroes, villains, and anybody in-between. Designed by Hiro “Toyman” Okamura, and Timothy Drake-Wayne, Injustice was created with the best Wayne Industries technology available and has the most human NPCs. The game is beyond it's time and is planned to be at the top of the charts for a while.

By accident, Clark finds himself pushed into the spotlight and new found fame. To him, Let’s Plays are a means to stay in touch with friends and to make money. He never got into LPing to become famous.

Bruce, who funded the game after Jason’s accident, is irritated (not jealous) that a video game player is such a big topic among the kids. After the nth time they mention him, Bruce decides to take matters into his own hands and see what all the fuss is about.

link to art

ONE OF MY FAVORITE SUPERBAT FICS OUT THERE!!!!!! this is great and fun and Clark is the best!

As We Grow by butterflyslinky

E - 23,451

Clark Kent is a farmer deep in debt to Lex Luthor.

Bruce Wayne is a billionaire with seven children and no luck in love.

But their families have a scheme to get them together and hopefully make life a little bit better.

Modern Medicine by BuckinghamAlice

G - 5,208

Pediatrician Dr. Clark Kent becomes beloved to his patients, the Wayne boys... as well as to their doting father Bruce.

ABSOLUTELY lovely and adorable, you get the feels!

Hellooooo, nurse! by weirdraccoon INCOMPLETE WIP

T - ?????

Clark enjoys his job at the Free Clinic. He loves helping people and tending injuries. Saving lives. But this man... Bruce Wayne is going to kill him if he doesn't get killed first.

Bruce is still Batman on this one but HERE ME OUT, Clark is a nurse! is incomplete but looking forward to the following chapters!!

Two Cities by EllenD

E - 96,152

Clark Kent, is simply Clark Kent, junior reporter for the Daily Planet who moved to Metropolis from Smallville with big dreams. Bruce Wayne is a billionaire playboy from Gotham, who also happens to be Batman. They meet, date, and fall in love, though not without hurdles because mild-mannered Clark is also socially awkward as heck. But when the most dangerous criminals in Gotham are gunning for Batman, Clark gets caught in the middle of it all. (He's basically Batman's Lois Lane) Meant to be set in the Dawn of Justice movie universe, but also draws inspiration from video games, comics, and those awesome Batman cartoons.

This is part of a series, but this is the main fic of it. Love this trope of Clark is just a civilian and Bruce is Batman. Warning this fic does contain disturbing topics so read the tags.

Here Comes the Sun by batsy_rocks

T - 18,815

Clark Kent is a kind-hearted reporter working in the big city. Bruce Wayne is a stressed dad of four with no idea of what he's doing.

Then they meet.

Seasons of Love by littlechinesedoll

G - 4,603

Clark Kent took over that farm at the edge of the Town of Smallville. He likes Smallville's resident doctor, Bruce Wayne.

The best gifts for Bruce are ginger ale, salad, coffee, and any kind of flowers. He hates gems, and bars of copper, silver, and gold.

Petals and Ink by drunkraiinbow

T - 12,976

With a new kid joining the family, Bruce tries a new tattoo artist to continue the tradition of adding them to his sleeve, but he won't trust just any artist. Clark manages to win him over with his incredible talent and his farm-boy friendly demeanor, and he may even have begun to win Bruce's heart. However, Clark might have a few things to learn first.

FLOWER SHOP TATTOO PARLOUR AU! what else is there to say, this is extremely cute and a fast read! :D

Faceless Killer by Batsymomma11

E - 51,519

Detective Bruce Wayne from the GCPD and detective Clark Kent from the MPD have been asked to create a joint task force in an effort to catch the John Doe Killer that has been ravaging their sister-cities. Aside from their long-standing animosity towards one another, it should be a breeze to work together. Besides, lives depend on them getting along.

They never expected they'd trip headlong into a romantic entanglement that feels a lot more serious than even the killer they're chasing.

The Tailor by maderi

E - 16,026

When Clark is assigned to cover the Wayne gala, he finds himself in need of a professionally tailored suit. His tailor though is drop dead gorgeous, which brings up a lot of awkward situations during their appointments.

Heroes of the Squared Circle by Mithen

M - 226,687

They've gone by many names: Billionaire Brucie, Country Clark, the Kryptonian, the Dark Knight. But no matter what their stage names are, one thing has always been true: Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne are the world's finest wrestlers.

Six's a crowd by Untoward INCOMPLETE/ABANDONED

G - 10,133

When Alfred has to make an emergency trip back to England, Bruce soon finds out he can't manage running a business and taking care of six kids all alone.

He turns to a nanny agency for help, and is astonished when he finds Clark Kent, who seems like he can handle anything.

Clark not only can take care of the kids incredibly well but seems to be breaking Bruce's walls down rather well too.

After Hours by ????

E - 3,175

At the end of a long semester Clark can't hide his attraction to Professor Wayne any longer. Grad School AU.

This is practically a one-shot, not really my type of fic but worth adding!! Haven't come across this professor trope in Superbat so if you got any recs, send them my way!

Wings and Fangs by DanielleN3

E - 17,224

Clark thought he could never fall in love with anyone, especially not after being alone for such a long time… but all of that changes when he encounters a sexy vampire in Gotham.

TECHNICALLY they both have powers in this one but there are soooo different from cannon that I think this fic still qualifies for this list

thirteen by CapnWinghead

T - 22,890

Drowning in student loans, Clark Kent takes a summer job as the Wayne family nanny.

OKAY. so this is not entirely NO POWERS, but I mean Clark is a NANNY so this is great! TRUST ME

Kiss me, take my breath away by J_Jubilee

E - 37,934

There were legends about Gotham Reef. Legends that said it was haunted by a beast of foul temper. Stories told of a ravenous sea beast that feasted on the flesh of men, and was said to be more hideous than Satan himself. Others told of a woman with eyes that glowed like gold to lead sailors to their death. Some even spoke of a witch that cursed men and wreck their ships, taking all their treasures with it. When Clark’s catamaran is wrecked by a terrible storm, he learns that the stories were oh so far from true.

Baby Bats by AlmondRose

G - 4,003

this is a short series of adorable and simple domestic fluff

------

Haven't read this one but heeey the art is sooo pretty soo decided to add it anyways

Dragon Heart by Hells Angel 921

T - 27,660

Kal wants to make up for his past.

Bruce tries to move on with his future.

They eventually meet in the middle.

link to art

I didn't know that Dragon/DragonSlayer was a thing but hey... apparently it is, so here it is.

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

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

hehe and so my rant ends here! let me know if you know fics that fit any of these tropes! I’m all ears

[riversofmars]

OMG Vastra and Jenny's wedding! Please write that! Maybe they 'never' got around to it because multiple Doctors and multiple Rivers showed up and therefore don't remember. Haha. Pretty please?

OMG I love this! Yes, of course I will! It's utter chaos, I hope you like it. I was having a good laugh while writing :D

Rating: G

Word Count: 2200

Read on AO3 or blow

The Big Day

“Strax!“ Madame Vastra’s voice carried through the corridors of 13 Paternoster Row.

“Yes, Ma’am?“ Strax stuck his head into Vastra’s study, and the lady of the house looked around.

“There you are. I need you to get Jenny as well,“ she instructed.

“Now, Ma’am?“ Strax frowned.

“Yes, Strax right now,“ she retorted with a sigh.

“You do realise what day it is?“ The butler prompted. It had taken him a while to find her as the study was not where she was supposed to be.

“Yes, Strax I am fully aware what day it is. But the fate of London, planet Earth and, frankly, Time itself makes no exceptions, not even for one’s wedding day,“ Vastra groaned in annoyance. She had been in her bed chambers getting ready for the big day when her advanced hearing had picked up on a series of alarms sounding from the study. She had considered ignoring them, this was meant to be the happiest day of her life after all, but her sense of duty had gotten the better of her.

“Very good, Ma’am…“ Strax nodded. “But perhaps we might try to… solve the problem by ourselves? I’m afraid Miss Jenny might be awfully disappointed if she were to see you before the ceremony,“ the commander pointed out. While he couldn’t pretend to understand the meaning behind all these seemingly random Earth traditions, he appreciated that they bore some significance to Jenny.

“Strax…“ Vastra sighed, she didn’t need him making her feel any more guilty than she already did. All she wanted was for this to be the perfect day for Jenny and already things were going wrong.

“Earlier she threw a shoe at me when I requested her help in serving tea,“ Strax explained.

“Do you think maybe that has something to do with the fact that you asked her to work on her wedding day?“ Vastra couldn’t help a smirk of amusement, she would have enjoyed seeing Strax trying to duck a shoe flying his way.

“I hadn’t considered it, Ma’am,“ the Sontaran mused. “I shall file that under human mating rituals: no work on the wedding day.“

“Right, okay, I suppose I should apply the same principle to fighting alien incursions. Let’s see if we can deal with this discreetly, without Jenny…“ Vastra decided, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“Perhaps I might be of some assistance!“ Strax and Vastra whirled around to see Professor River Song flash a stunning smile at them. She shook out her hair that fizzed with the energy of vortex manipulator travel.

“Professor Song!“ Vastra took a moment to recover from the shock. She stared in surprise at the archaeologist who smoothed down a beautiful navy gown. Guests weren’t meant to arrive for another few hours. Vastra herself hadn’t even changed yet.

“Sorry, I am a bit early but I was in need of a quick getaway and set the coordinates in a hurry… but sounds like I might have been just in time?“ River grinned.

“Well, uh…“ the lady of the house struggled for words.

“So what seems to be the problem, I’m happy to help,“ the professor carried on pleasantly as she looked around the study. “I’m sure there are things you’d rather be doing right now.“

“How about some tea?“ Strax interjected.

“Champagne if you don’t mind. Or is it a bit early for that too?“ River retorted.“What time is it anyway?“

“You see, that seems to be the problem,“ Vastra said, pointing to a clock on the mantelpiece. It had stopped.

“I thought something didn’t feel quite right,“ River checked the time on her vortex manipulator as well.

“It’s not just the one clock, I have checked them all, they’ve just stopped,“ the Silurian carried on.

“Well then, there is nothing for it, we must locate the source of the time distortion so we can get on with this lovely day. You’re only meant to get married once. Getting caught in an alternate reality or a time loop or something to that effect would be awfully inconvenient,“ River clapped her hands together with enthusiasm. As someone with first-hand experience of weddings outside the fabric of time, she felt best equipped to deal with things.

“And how would you suggest we start?“ Vastra asked.

“Well, there really only is one question we need to ask ourselves… where is my plus one? I am fairly certain one of them is responsible for this,“ River put her hands on her hips. “He’s not arrived yet, has he?“

“Which one of them did you bring?“ Vastra questioned, and the professor ran her hand through her hair.

“Ah well, I thought I would see whichever one of them turns up…“

“Oh…“ Realisation dawned on Vastra what sort of temporal disturbance they might be dealing with.

“Was I supposed to bring one in particular?“ River asked, and the Silurian shook her head.

“Well, no. No, it’s just…“

“Ah…“ River came to the same conclusion as the detective. “Yes, I see what you mean…“

“It would make sense…“ Vastra crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“Could you please stop communicating telepathically?“ Strax intervened, and the two women looked around to him.

“More than one Doctor in the same place and time,“ Vastra explained while River produced a scanner from the small clutch bag she was holding.

“Dimensional engineering isn’t just useful for TARDISes, you know,“ she smirked in response to their confused expressions and started running a scan. “The disturbance isn’t far from here, in fact… just…“ She pointed to the ground beneath their feet. “Below us.“

“The Siluritum,“ Vastra sighed. Of course. The cavern below 13 Paternoster Row was where they would be having the ceremony and reception.

“Come on!“ River grinned, heading towards the door. “Or would you rather stay and continue getting ready…?“ She turned back to Vastra, looking her up and down.

“I would rather make sure my wedding does not equate to the end of the universe,“ the detective retorted as she followed.

“What should I do, Ma’am?“ Strax piped up.

“Reassure Jenny that everything is absolutely fine and that everything is going off without a hitch,“ Vastra decided it was best to keep her bride in the dark for as long as possible. Surely, the situation would be easy enough to rectify and with any luck, she would never need to know. “Do NOT let her venture downstairs.“

“But what if she…“ Strax carried on, and Vastra interrupted him:

“Use your initiative Strax: lie.“

“This way…“ Vastra indicated, and River followed. As they descended the stairs to what any ordinary visitor would have presumed the basement, the air was not only getting hot and moist as Silurians preferred it, it also seemed to be fizzing with energy. Reality was slightly out of whack, and the first TARDIS came into view at the bottom of the stairs.

“Now this is going to be fun,“ River commented as they stepped into the impressive cave - decorated for the occasion with the most luscious flowers - and they spotted another dozen TARDISes. There was room enough but evidently not time and reality enough to accommodate them or their numerous owners.

“Alright, can everyone just calm down so we can work this out?!“ One of the Doctors shouted in a thick Scottish accent. “As the oldest one here, I can assure you, none of you are meant to be here, I’d remember!“

“If our time streams are crossed, you wouldn’t remember, actually!“ Another Doctor shot back, who River liked to refer to as Pretty Boy.

“I think this is all some big misunderstanding,“ yet another Doctor - donning particularly well-grown celery for the occasion - pointed out.

“You’re gonna have to help me here…“ Vastra mumbled to River as they hovered in the doorway.

“Who are all these people?“ A young girl enquired of the Doctor next to her.

“Susan Foreman, Doctor’s granddaughter…“ River whispered to Vastra who looked back at her bemused.

“Does that make you a step-grandmother?“

“Shut up…“ River elbowed the Silurian who smirked but then she pointed out all the companions' names to her as they watched them bicker.

“Doctor, you didn’t mention you used to be so handsome…“ Amy Pond was currently in the process of eyeing up several of the Doctor’s previous incarnations while their Doctor just groaned in annoyance, and Rory Williams tried his best to keep her from making acquaintances.

“Handsome? Really?“ Donna Noble shot back, obviously disgusted at the very thought while Pretty Boy smugly straightened his tie.

“So they’re all you?“ Sarah Jane Smith asked, bewildered.

“It would appear so…“ her Doctor retorted, tangling his long scarf around him, while soothing down a suit. To their credit, everyone had dressed up for the occasion.

“Doctor, what are we doing here?“ Liv Chenka threw her hands up in the air, fed up with the bickering.

“We’ve been invited to a wedding,“ her Doctor replied with a wide grin.

“Who’s wedding?“ Ace McShane interjected.

“I don’t know but I love a good wedding, don’t you?“ her Doctor grinned, straightening his hat.

“You don’t even know Vastra and Jenny yet!“ The Doctor that River liked to nickname “Eyebrows“ shot back.

“Is that who’s getting married? Lovely, best put that on the card…“ Pretty Boy instructed Donna who rolled her eyes at him.

“Do you think perhaps it’s time to…“ Vastra looked at River.

“What?“ The professor had been engrossed in watching the spectacle in front of them but the detective certainly had a point. “Oh yeah, yes, let's!“

“Excuse me, everyone!“ Vastra called out and everyone looked around. Before the Silurian could carry on, however, there was an energy discharge, knocking everyone off their feet. Suddenly, another TARDIS appeared in their midst.

“Sorry, sorry! Are we late?“ Another Doctor, northern with blond bobbed hair, stuck her head out.

“Now, this is getting more interesting by the minute!“ River raised her eyebrows intrigued, as she clambered back to her feet.

“River!“ the blond Doctor exclaimed, a wide grin spreading across her face. The other Doctors - surprisingly even the ones that didn’t really know who she was - mirrored the expression upon lying eyes on their wife..

“Professor!“ Vastra elbowed River who took delight in the attention suddenly devoted to her. The air was humming with energy, if another TARDIS decided to pop up now, things would surely go very wrong indeed.

“Right, everyone, this is getting a tiny bit complicated…“ River announced, though somewhat half-heartedly as she made eyes at her numerous husbands and wife, so Vastra decided it best to take things in her own hands:

“And by tiny bit complicated the professor means to say you are disrupting the very fabric of time.“ She put her hands on her hips, her voice stern. “In my house. On my wedding day. And as I would like to actually get married later today, it would be nice if time could carry on and not break, not today.“

“Oh right.“ The Doctors exchanged concerned glances.

“Yeah, I suppose that wouldn’t be very good, would it…“

“So if you wouldn’t mind parking your TARDISes elsewhere,“ Vastra carried on and there were more nods from various Doctors:

“Right.“

“Sure.“

“Naturally.“

“But… which one of us gets to stay? We’re all invited,“ it was the oldest Doctor that spoke up. She was looking at River with stars in her eyes, and it melted the professor’s heart. She evidently hadn’t seen her in a long time and was keen to stay.

“Ah yes, that may have been an oversight on my part…“ River admitted sheepishly as she had sent a message on the psychic paper. One that had clearly reached all of them.

“Well, I think there’s only one thing for it,“ a voice sounded from the doorway, and everyone whirled around. Jenny crossed her arms in front of her chest in amusement as she watched the peculiar scene in front of her.

Everyone was at a loss for words but Vastra in particular. Jenny was wearing a stunning wedding dress of white lace, her hair was pinned up with white flowers and her bright smile was the most dazzling thing of all.

“Darling, it’s…“ Vastra was going to say that everything was alright and dealt with. She was going to say that it was far too early for her to be down here. She was going to say that they shouldn’t be seeing each other yet, but all she could manage was: “You look beautiful.“

“And you’re not changed yet,“ Jenny smirked. “You better, as soon as time carries on.“

“We will have this sorted in a minute, Jenny, I’m so sorry about this.“ River said but the bride just laughed.

“I should have expected today wouldn’t go off without a hitch,“ she commented. “Just as… extraordinary as the rest of our life.“ She smiled at Vastra who gave a soft chuckle as well.

“You said there was one thing for it? What solution did you have in mind, my love?“

“Well I suppose, to keep things fair, we will have to repeat the ceremony a few times, won’t we. So everyone can attend.“ Jenny grinned as Vastra’s face fell.

“Are you serious?“

“Well, it’s only fair. Don’t tell me it’s such a hardship to keep kissing me,“ Jenny winked to a chorus of cheers. She wrapped her arms around her wife-to-be who allowed herself to be pulled into a hug.

Suddenly there was another discharge of energy.

“Alright everyone, move your TARDISes!“ Vastra exclaimed, and the Doctors jumped into action. “It’s gonna be a long and beautiful day.“ She smiled at Jenny and pressed a loving kiss to her lips. The first of many they would share that day.

[melodypond-thewomanwhomarriedme]

"Please believe me" for 11/river with lots of angst but a happy ending pleaseeeee :( I miss them so much :(

someone reminded me of the fact that 11 didn't tell cl*ra that river was his wife, or that he was married at all and it made me angry

The first thing she did when she regained consciousness was slap him.

It was instantaneous; one sharp slap as her expression contorted with rage and heartache as their eyes met. Her breathing grew heavy as she struck him, and though he expected it he still cried out in pain and stumbled a few paces back.

"How dare you," she hissed, and when he looked back up at her again, his hand covering his reddening cheek, he saw that she was quivering and her eyes were filled with tears. "How dare you, Doctor."

"River," he gasped, as she advanced on him dangerously again, getting out of the bed and striding calmly towards him. "River, I-"

"How could you trap me in that hell," she started, her voice quiet with fury, "and never return? No visits, no messages - I was in that computer for over a thousand years and you couldn't take a second away from your joyrides to even check if I was still there."

He gulped as she glared at him through her tears, still wearing that ridiculous garb she wore in Trenzalore, her hair like a majestic lion's mane against the bright lights of the medbay.

"I thought you would come back," she said, shutting her eyes. She seemed angry - but not at him this time. At herself. "I thought you would have the decency to just erase me if you couldn't find a way to save me. But you just went off gallivanting with your women. Did you even spare a thought for me at all? Or was I really just Professor Song to you?"

"Don't be - I - River - of course -" the Doctor stammered, but as she watched him, his cheek bright red from the force of her slap, she seemed to lose all the fight in her.

She turned back to the bed and leant on it, her shoulders hunched as she cried.

"I thought you would come back," she repeated, but instead of the fury with which she spat the words out before, now it was with a choked sob as tears poured out of her. "I waited for you. Every day I waited for you, until I realised that you wouldn't come. I was on my own. And then, after Trenzalore, it dawned on me - I was always on my own."

She turned and perched on the edge of the bed, looking at her husband with gaunt eyes and a wry smile.

"You never intended to save me, did you, my love?" she asked softly. "You trapped me there when we met but by the time we married you must have realised just how much I would have hated being in that data core - and yet you never had the decency to even see me there."

The Doctor shut his eyes and looked down. He didn't know what to say - she was right, about all of it. She didn't deserve him; she deserved a husband who loved her selflessly and he - he was the most selfish man in the universe.

"I'm sorry," he whispered brokenly, but it didn't sound enough.

"Did you even grieve for me?" she asked him, but she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer. "Or did you find some other young, pretty thing to impress? What was her name - Clara, was it? I hope you treated her well, my love." she laughed harshly. " Better than you treated me, anyway."

"Of course I grieved for you," the Doctor answered softly, his eyes still shut tight. He couldn't look at her. "I never stopped grieving for you."

But she shook her head. "You didn't even tell anyone about me. Like I never existed at all." she pointed out to him. "Clara didn't even know you were married - what did you tell her I was?"

He didn't answer for a moment. And then he mumbled, "An ex."

She nodded once. "Is that what you want me to be? An ex? Was that what it took for her to fuck you?"

The Doctor's eyes widened. "No, River -"

"I'm leaving," she interrupted. "If you want me to be an ex, then I'll be one. I've spent too much of my life trying to be someone you can love, Doctor. I'm not about to squander my second chance at living on someone who never wanted me in their life."

"Stop," he whispered.

"Why?" she challenged, eyes blazing. "You know it's true. I gave everything up for you. I gave my lives to you - every single time, I was there for you. And you couldn't even-" she closed her eyes and swallowed as more tears escaped. "You couldn't even get over yourself to visit me. Just admit that it's over, Doctor. Because I am so tired of hurting over this - over you."

"It's not over," he said softly, staggering towards her. His eyes were blinded with tears as he dropped to his knees and held her hands. "It's not over, River. You're right - you deserve better than me. You've given me so much that I don't deserve - and I couldn't - I'm not -" more tears escaped and he took in a shaky breath as he continued. "You asked if I grieved for you. I couldn't - after our last night, I didn't leave the Tardis for over a century. I held your pillow to sleep because it smelled like you. I drove myself crazy because I missed you so much it felt like my hearts were being ripped apart."

He looked up at her and kissed the back of her hands. She was watching him and crying silently, red rimmed eyes cautious but hopeful. But he could still see how betrayed and heartbroken she felt, and he wished that he was a better man.

"I'm sorry." he repeated again. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. You deserve a billion apologies after what I've done to you and it still wouldn't be enough." He pressed another shaky kiss to her skin and she felt his lips quivering against her. "When I found out you escaped, I - I couldn't get there fast enough. I was so - so unbearably happy, River. Happier than I'd ever been. It was like my hearts stopped ripping themselves apart."

He sighed, heavy and remorseful, as he looked down and shook his head. "But I don't deserve you. You're right, River. I didn't tell anyone about you. But only because - because every time I thought about you, all the pain would come flooding back. It reminded me that I could never be with you again. So I didn't tell anyone - it wasn't because - I didn't do it so I could -"

"Are you sure?" she asked, her voice gentler than it had been since she woke up. "She liked you, you know. I could see it. And my love, you are not as innocent as you like to pretend. If she's who you're with now and I've showed up and complicated things, just tell me."

His head shot up and he held tightly onto her hands as he answered with a firm, "No. It's not like that, River. I - not since - I couldn't. Please believe me. Please, River."

"But she-" River frowned. "So you didn't fuck her?"

The Doctor flinched at her curse, but shook his head. "There was never any chance of it."

River looked doubtful but didn't say anything. The Doctor sighed and stood, sitting next to her. She didn't move away but she didn't turn towards him either.

"I didn't forget you. You were everywhere, River. I could hear your voice in my head, telling me that I left the brakes on or scolding me for being so slow." he said. She remained motionless, looking down at her lap. "I know I haven't given you any reason to believe me, but I do love you, River. You're my wife. And I - I'm so happy to see you. I'm so happy that you're alive and breathing and - and free. And if you want to remain free, I won't stop you."

At that, she turned to look at him, her eyes slightly widened in shock. He continued, smiling reassuringly at her.

"You choose what you want, dear. I won't stop you. I can be in your life as your husband, or a friend, or," he paused, as though even thinking the words were hard. "Or I can not be in your life at all. I won't blame you if you choose that. But I wouldn't be a selfish old man if I didn't at least try to convince you to stay."

"Doctor," she whispered, but she didn't seem to know what to say.

"I will be better," he whispered, fresh tears springing into his eyes as he gazed at her. His expression was one of hopeful desperation - she recognised it from when they fought together and were on the brink of losing. She never realised she was something he wanted to fight for. "If it's for you, I know I can be better. Please let me try. You don't owe me anything - God knows I don't deserve this at all - but I swear, River, I'll do everything I can for you."

He reached out to touch her cheek lightly, wiping her tears away. "I've missed you so much. I love you so, so much, River."

He leaned towards her but before he could blink she threw herself into him, sobbing into his chest as she clutched tightly at him. His arms wound themselves around her automatically and he found himself holding her, stroking her hair and shushing her.

"Whatever you choose, dear," he whispered soothingly to her, rubbing her back as she shook in his embrace. "Just remember that I love you. Please, don't forget that."

She cried and cried and cried until she couldn't anymore, until tears refused to fill her eyes again. She felt so conflicted but she knew herself - she knew that there was never any choice to begin with. It was only ever him, the Doctor. Her stupid husband.

'You don't have to choose now," he told her softly, as she stopped shaking and simply rested her head against the wet spot on his chest where she cried. "Think about it for a while."

"I don't have to. I know what to choose," she mumbled against his chest. She pushed herself up and looked into his eyes, her hand reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. "Just please, don't make me regret it."

His eyes burned with more tears at the realisation that she was choosing him. He sniffed and dropped his forehead onto hers, hugging her tightly to him.

"I don't deserve you," he whispered again. "River, my wife, my partner - my equal. How could I ever fall in love with anyone after spending centuries loving you?"

She smiled against him. "Don't be an idiot, sweetie."

Their lips met for the first time in centuries.

[fluffy-lee-boa]

Arkham’s Sweetheart and the Grumpy Riddle Bug

a batman rogue ticklefic uwu

A/N: hey everyone!!! this took me a bit, but it kinda got away from me and turned into a little story of its own haha. i wrote this with the animated universe in mind, but honestly i think it’ll work with a few.

anyways, this was a request! lee!edward getting ganged up on by ler!harley and ler!pamela. hope you like it!!!

It was rare that anyone in Arkham would be such a ray of sunshine, being the drab and dank place that it is, but Harley Quinn was definitely the exception. Despite her treatment at the hands of guards, her clown of an ex, and the bat alike, she was always surprisingly upbeat as she passed through the halls of the facility, hands cuffed behind her back.

Her cheery attitude didn’t exactly mesh with her fellow rogues, though none of them were immune to her disarming charms. This meant that the room full of murderers and scoundrels all took pause when she entered, giving her soft smiles or begrudging greetings as she went ahead to settle into the rec room.

Well, all but one person.

Edward Nashton, or Nygma, as he had legally changed it to, was not exactly chipper on this stormy day- not that he was ever “chipper.” It’s just that today he seemed more put off than usual, based on the way he was stewing in the corner. There was an abandoned chessboard on the table beside him, likely from Jervis or Jonathan having grown frustrated with his attitude mid-game. It wasn’t uncommon, though it did present a challenge to the doctor as she assessed the situation.

Edward was one of her closest friends. It would be a crime not to help him out! He obviously needed someone there to cheer him up, for whatever reason, and who better than the sweetheart of Arkham herself?

(No, not Ivy. She was currently busy by the window, gardening. Though Harley was sure she could get her to help out if necessary.)

“Hey Eddie~!” She cooed as she skipped over and took the seat across from him, giving that same magical smile.

Edward gave her a half-hearted, “Quinn.” not even looking up from the floor.

Hmph. This was worse than she thought!

“What’s got ya so wound up today, hon?” she asked, a bit of her professionalism seeping through from her days as a staff member in this same institution.

He raised an eyebrow at her, before staring back at the ground with a rather childish, “You just wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.” she deadpanned, leading to her fellow inmate to purse his lips.

Edward knew that Harley was not somebody to underestimate. While Joker had tossed her aside and treated her like a jockey, he could tell she was much more intelligent than she let on. She was also stubborn- Which meant there wasn’t much of a chance of him getting out of this without telling her the truth.

He sighed, finally looking directly at her as he laid his chin in his hands, “It’s Batman. I’m sure you’re aware I was only just sent back here yesterday... I have reason to believe he’s found someone else to antagonize. Why won’t he realize that I’m the only one in this city who’s worthy of being his equal...?”

Harley blinked, a part of her tempted to admit that pretty much everyone but him knew he was a second tier villain at best. Though she knew how fragile the other’s ego was, and what he really needed right now was moral support. Like a break up! He’d been there for her when she went through her messy separation, albeit with his usual awkward stoniness, so it was only right that she return the favor.

“Aw, come on Ed. He’s not worth your time.” she waved her hand dismissively, “If anything, he should be locked up in here with us! He’s no better than... Jonathan! Just using fear to escape a lonely life and exert some sort of sick power over others.”

From the couch across the room, Crane looked up from his book, unimpressed. Clearly, he wanted no part of this.

Harley gave an awkward laugh and wave to her old professor, before turning back to Edward, “-Either way, I think you could do better.”

Edward raised an eyebrow, “...Really?”

She nodded, swinging her legs excitedly, “Yeah! Once we bust outta here, we should get you on some dating apps. Maybe go to a few Comic Cons. There’s gotta be someone out there who’s just as nerdy as you-!” she giggled as she poked him in the shoulder teasingly, watching the other puff up defensively.

“I don’t need a partner! I need a rival to sharpen my wits. I just- I want him to see that we’re the same. Is that too much to ask?” Edward snapped, pouting once more.

Harley’s smile faded for a moment, and she seemed to think for a moment, “....Get up.”

“What?” Edward seemed baffled at the sudden order, especially coming from her.

“Stand up! I wanna try somethin’!” She beamed, motioning for the other to get out of his chair. At this point, most of the other inmates were busy in their own little worlds, though a few took notice when Nygma stood. Especially since Harley looked so unnervingly excited.

Quinn walked over with a rather threatening look in her eye, hidden by her giddy smile, “Ok, now put your hands up.”

He hesitated, leading to a gentle, “Come on~! I’m not gonna hurt ya!”

Edward nervously raised his arms above his head, his baggy uniform falling over his slender form due to weeks of avoiding meals. He’d probably been up for days, based on his demeanor. He really put his whole heart and soul into this rivalry, Harley thought.

These small details of the other’s appearance only spurred on the psychiatrist as she stalked around him like a predator, deciding she knew exactly what she had to do. Then, when she was sure he wouldn’t expect it, Harley clamped down under his arms, wiggling her fingers against his skin through the loose fabric. In her opinion, laughter was the best medicine, and if Eddie was going to hold back like that, she certainly wasn’t.

If no one had been paying attention to them before, Edward sharp yelp would have tipped everybody off. He immediately brought his arms back down with a strangled giggle, doing his best to shoot Harley a look as she continued with her hands wedged under his arms.

She merely laughed along in response, cooing, “Awh Eddie, you’re so cute when you’re laughing like this. Kitchy koo~!”

“Harleen!” he hissed through gritted teeth, his cheeks already a bright red color as he tried to squirm free of her grasp.

After a moment he managed to pull away and get those blasted fingers out from his hollows- only for his arm to once again by suspended above him by some unidentifiable force. He looked up in horrified confusion, only to find thick vines wrapped around each wrist, holding him up like he was the catch of the day at Gotham Harbor..

“ISLEY!”

The purring voice of the botanist did nothing to soothe his flustered anger as she appeared beside her current partner in crime, “Yes, Edward...?”

Eddie bit down on his cheek to keep himself from bursting into laughter from the light yet overwhelming sensations, leading to his fiery responses being entirely silenced. Harley had barely even let up while the fiendish red-head had done her work, her fingers now trailing up his biceps and back down just to make him jump.

“Look Eddie, we just wanna help ya! Now, be a good little gigglebug and laugh.” Harley gave her victim an evil smirk, before moving down to dig into his prominent ribs.

Edward immediately acted like all the air had been sucked from his lungs, before he finally fell into real, authentic laughter. It was honestly a marvel that no guard had come to check on the group yet, considering how noisy they’d become both from Edward’s current predicament, and the snickers of onlookers.

His laugh was more sweet and melodic than most people would think, and it was almost bouncy as he squirmed around. It sounded much more innocent than the man who was behind it.

“C’mon Eddie, that’s it,” Pamela hummed as she stepped around him, obviously enjoying watching the other get so flustered. His cheeks heated up as she fluttered her leaves and flower petals across his neck from the greenery continuing to hold him up, affectively turning his mind to mush.

“Youhou’re both dEAHAHAEEEE-!” Edward’s final attempt at a threat fell off into a squeal when Harley suddenly moved down to his hip bones with her own sporadic movements, making him buck as he tried to pull his arms free.

“Jackpot!” Harley sang, focusing all her attention on the dips and protruding bone. She was pure evil alright.

Edward’s squealing soon tapered off into begging and hiccuping giggles as he slowly lost his energy, all of which were practically indecipherable anyways, “Harleen! Pleaseheheheease-! Noho-!”

Harley hesitated, making an over-exaggerated face as if contemplating something grand, “Mmm... I don’t think you’re all cheered up yet...”

“I aham Ihihihiamm-!!!” He wheezed, his laughter starting anew as Quinn moved up a little to trace at his sides.

Harley and Ivy shared a look, and Harley eventually shrugged, slowing her movements to a stop. He’d had enough for the day.

Edward immediately sunk to the floor as Ivy’s vines guided him in a manner that would keep him from injuring himself, and soon the green weeds bloomed flowers to serve as a sort of mattress for the man to rest on. He continued giggling airily from the leftover ghost tickles and slight movements of the flora, the two watching. him curiously. Eventually he looked up at the both of them with a more genuine, honestly pretty cheesy smile.

There’s the Edward they knew and loved!

Harley was the first to react, per usual. She squealed excitedly and went to tackle him in a hug, which he begrudgingly returned as Ivy sat down cross legged beside them on their living carpet. The rest of the rogues had gone back to their own business, leaving the three to their own devices now that Edward had been so fiercely pulled out of his funk.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Edward spoke up with a surpassingly shy, “Er... thank you. Both. I needed that. Even if it was insufferable, it was... nice.”

Harley simply hummed happily and hugged him tighter, while Ivy was left to wave him off. He made Harley happy, so he was clearly worth their time.

Harley remained cuddled up between the two indefinitely after it was all said and done, rambling on about nothing in particular and helping get Ed’s mind off of the Bat for once in his life. And after recreational hours were done? She would get Edward to a meal and help him get back to his feet before their next breakout and/or parole hearing. And even if she acted aloof, Ivy would be with them every step of the way.