#it's not long enough to warrant a read more lol

[peacockrulz]

Funny stuff happens on twitter sometimes dkslfjsdlkf

[eyivibyemi]

✧ I won’t really write descriptions for these, but see original post tags for explanation/commentary on the song snippet ✧

[undressrehearsal]

a bite of luxury

summary: you decide to look for a sugar mommy and stumble across this strange girl that seems to have more to hide

tags: sugarmommy!ellie, rich!ellie, vampire!ellie (yep, we got it all) alcohol, reader is poor lmao, reader uses she/her and is referred to as a girl once or twice, no smut in this one sorry gotta establish the world first

word count: ~8k

a/n: it's been so long since i posted a fic lol working full time and trying to finish my book is killing my schedule BUT i hope y'all like this this was my fiancee's idea and i'm running with it i got a LOT of plans for this one - plans i think y'all are gonna love

also the drawing in the cover is made by @nramv seriously go check out their work they're so talented!!

if you wanna be added to my tag list just lmk!

You hadn’t been searching for a sugar mommy. 

Truthfully, when your best friend had sent you the link, you had dismissed it immediately. She had been joking about it for months, talking about how much easier it would be if you just found a nice older woman to take care of you. You hadn’t even opened the link - you only rolled your eyes, replied with a middle finger emoji, and left it at that. 

And yet things kept piling up. The stack of bills on your kitchen counter was growing to a concerning height, a mountain of unanswered responsibilities that was getting harder to ignore. Your landlord kept calling you - you no longer answered, just watched the phone ring until it finally stopped and ignored the increasingly angrier voicemails. Your apartment was an absolute disaster; you could never be bothered to clean it, because by the time you got home from working both of your jobs, you only had enough energy to eat a bowl of leftovers and promptly pass out in bed. 

The link kept popping up in your mind, each bill in your mailbox a gentle reminder. You found yourself scrolling all the way up the text chain to find it again during sleepless nights. So many times you would only stare at it, your thumb hovering over the blue letters, before you closed the chat and threw your phone down. 

It was stupid, of course. But as time went on, the idea of letting yourself get buried alive under a mountain of debt - of getting evicted from your apartment and having to crash on your friend’s couch - seemed all the more stupid. 

So, late on a Thursday night, after you had had another anxiety attack staring down at your bank account, you went back up the text chain, and you clicked the link. 

www.seeking.com

It didn't take long for the messages to start coming in. You should have been flattered, honestly - you had at least a handful of people in your messages practically begging you for the honor of paying your fucking rent - but you really just felt like you were playing a part that you hadn't even read the script for. You had curated your profile with all the things that made you appear more cultured than you actually were: going to museums and pondering over Baroque art and reading poetry over a pretentious cup of coffee. Sure, these were all things you had done - you had photo proof, after all - but somehow you didn't recognize yourself. It felt like you were looking at pictures of a stranger living a life you wanted but couldn't reach. 

Most people were fine - charming, even. You got maybe one or two that felt like they would lure you into their sex dungeon to murder you, but that was expected with any dating site. You even went on a few dates, scrounging up the nicest dress you owned and getting pampered at a five-star restaurant or going for a ride on an older woman’s personal yacht. One person even took you for a helicopter ride, which was fun but she was a little too handsy on the first date to warrant a second. 

One name kept popping up though, a name that was becoming far too familiar in your notifications. 

ellie: meet me at 8 <3 

When she first messaged you, you had thought she was like you: somebody searching for a partner to pay their bills. Her pictures didn't exactly scream sugar mommy material. Her first picture was just a normal selfie taken outside; she wore a worn out leather jacket, her short hair tangled from the wind and green eyes squinting in the sunlight. She had stupid pictures of mushrooms and candid shots of her browsing a science museum, looking far too excited in front of a t-rex skeleton. Hell, in most of her pictures she looked like she was wearing clothes she had found at a thrift store.

You had thought she was like you, until she sent you a picture inside her fucking Rolls-Royce. 

“Fuck,” you audibly cursed into the quiet of your room. You had been talking for a few days, and she had begun to do that - sending you small selfies throughout the day. In the last one, she had taken a picture in front of the mirror at the gym, flicking off the camera, her lean muscles glistening with sweat. Before that, it had been a blurry picture of her dog, Riley - a huge German Shephard - splayed on her back at a park, leaves stuck in her fur. 

So, yeah, when you found out Ellie was not only rich, but rich enough to casually have a Royce, you were more than a little surprised. 

The selfie was cute, you couldn’t deny that. Her hair was wind-swept, catching in those long ass eyelashes. Ellie’s nose was scrunched up, freckles popping against her cheeks, holding up a peace sign. 

She was fucking adorable and you already knew it. But seeing her worn out leather jacket and messy hair against black and white leather seats that looked like they, alone, cost more than your entire apartment complex combined - it was a little jarring. 

And when she asked you out on a date soon after - after finding out she wasn’t Iike you but rather searching for someone like you - how could you say no? 

Ellie offered to pick you up - like a gentleman, she had said - but frankly, you weren’t quite convinced yet that she wasn’t some blood-thirsty pervert trying to lure you into her dungeon, so you politely declined. Instead, in your nicest dress and heels you hardly wore because they pinched your toes, you called an Uber. 

You had never been to this side of town. You had plugged in the address Ellie gave you - had double and triple checked it while your awkwardly chatty Uber driver tried asking you about what you do for a living - but the streets here were so unfamiliar you may as well have been in another city. You looked at the foreign buildings rising up around you, large windows giving you a glimpse of the life inside them. People were sitting outside in the chilly air, laughing over wine and dinner. Looking at them - with perfectly sculpted hair and clothes you would have to spend several entire paychecks on - you felt like a cheap impersonator dressed up in a costume. 

The Uber pulled up in front of a hotel, and your heart stopped. Surely, this wasn’t where Ellie had sent you - leading you to some fucking hotel room when you hadn’t even met yet? 

You turned to the driver, your home address at the edge of your tongue, when the car door opened. 

You had practically been leaning against the door to peer out the window, and nearly lost your balance when it was suddenly gone without warning. You looked up, ready to yell at whatever pretentious prick in Prada was trying to fuck with you - but your voice died in your throat. 

Ellie was shorter than you thought she'd be, honestly. In all her pictures, she had this commanding energy, like she would tower over you in person. 

Which, to be fair, she was. She had her arm propped on the doorframe above your head, leaning over so she could meet your eyes. Her hair was pushed back from her face, a few stray strands falling over her forehead, and she was looking at you with an intensity that hadn't quite translated through her pictures.

Ellie smiled - that adorably crooked smile you had seen in all her selfies - and said, “Hi.” 

And the only word you were able to get your mouth to form was, “Fuck.” 

Ellie blinked at you for a moment - long enough that you could feel the flush creeping up your neck and were ready to walk home if you had to - before she finally laughed. That wasn’t like what you had expected either; she had this deep, rough laugh, almost like she was trying to hold it in. 

She looked up at you through her lashes - you tried to ignore the way your heart inexplicably skipped - and said, “I’ll take that as a compliment?” Her voice tilted up at the end like it was a question. Ellie ducked her head down further, looking past you to meet the driver’s eyes, and pulled cash from her back pocket. With her most charming smile, she handed it to the driver and said, “Thanks for getting her here safe.” 

You didn’t see how much money she gave him, but after she took your hand and guided you out of the car, you turned back just in time to see his grin before he sped off. 

“Thanks for coming out.” You looked back at Ellie and found yourself speechless once again. (You, thankfully, were able to hold in the expletive this time.) The worn out jacket that had featured in just about all of her pictures was missing, replaced instead by a pristine, white satin shirt, the top few buttons undone to expose a sliver of collarbone and a gold chain beneath. Despite the chill in the air, she had a classy black jacket hanging from her arm as though it were an accessory. Ellie smiled and looked down, licking her lips before saying, “You’re quite the sight for sore eyes.”

You tried to smile at her but found that your eyes kept flitting behind her, looking at the looming monstrosity of the hotel. It was a nice hotel - the kind that had a huge fountain right in front of it and a chandelier in the lobby that sparkled through the window - but it was a hotel nonetheless. Despite the set in your jaw, traitorous tears stung the corners of your eyes; you wanted to kick yourself for actually thinking that Ellie might be different. 

Ellie followed your gaze over her shoulder, her smile dropping, before she quickly turned back to you with panic in her eyes. She stumbled over her words as though her tongue weren’t cooperating: “Shit, I’m sorry, this looks really bad doesn't it?” She grimaced and squeezed your hand she was still holding, scratching awkwardly at the back of her head with the other. “Fuck, this isn’t the first impression I wanted. I could promise it's not what it looks like, but maybe it'd be better if I just showed you?”

You honestly did think about telling her to fuck off. She was a complete fucking stranger that you only really knew from a dating app, and she was trying to lure you into a hotel in a part of town you were unfamiliar with - really, only an idiot would follow her. 

But she was looking at you with wide green eyes, the lights around you shining back like stars. While searching for the constellations, you found yourself saying, “Okay.” You blinked, pulled from a trance, and added, “But you should know, I do have a taser in my bag.” 

That pulled a shocked laugh from Ellie’s lips. She gently tugged on your hand, pulling you towards the door, and said, “Smart girl.” 

You knew that the hotel was outside of your price range because a perfectly groomed doorman opened the door for you, waving you inside with a gloved hand. You didn’t take much time to process the interior - the chandelier was just as grand as it had seemed from outside and elaborate columns rose to the ceiling - because Elllie was pulling you towards the elevators. It was like she wanted to ignore the fact that she had brought you to a hotel at all. You couldn’t decide if that was reassuring. 

In the empty elevator, you gently drew your hand back and leaned against the wall opposite her. You tried to ignore looking at the way her pinstripe slacks hugged the curves of her thighs, the fabric straining when she propped one booted foot on the wall behind her. 

“So,” you started in a desperate attempt to fill the awkward silence, “if you’re not leading me into a seedy hotel room on the first date, then what are we doing?” 

“Okay, one,” Ellie said, chuckling, “this is anything but a seedy hotel. And two, what kind of a date would it be if I ruined the surprise?” 

“And what if I don’t like surprises?” you countered. 

Ellie grinned. “I think you’ll like this one.” 

When the elevator doors opened, Ellie held her hand out to you as though it were a question. You hesitated for only a moment before placing your hand back in hers and letting her lead you out into open air. 

You nearly choked on a gasp. 

The bar itself was beautiful - fairy lights stretched above your head, twinkling like stars and casting the rooftop in a warm glow. Wooden tables and plush couches were spread artfully around the space, far enough apart to provide the patrons scattered about with some privacy. 

The bar was beautiful - but the view was fucking breathtaking. 

The city stretched out beyond the railings, open in a way you had never seen before. The skyline rose around you, each building shining like its own little galaxy amidst a sea of stars. The city lights blocked out the actual stars - a fact that never failed to piss you off - but you could see the crescent of the moon rising over the city, casting a quiet glow like a veil. 

You looked back at Ellie, and whatever your face held made her grin. She leaned in just enough so that her murmur was for your ears only: “So, was I right?” 

You blinked, momentarily distracted by her proximity - she smelled intoxicating, spicy and warm with a hint of tobacco beneath - before you finally said, “What?” 

Ellie snorted, breaking whatever spell she had put you under. “The surprise,” she said, leaning away enough for your head to clear. “Was I right?” 

You bit the inside of your cheek, pursing your lips as though you had to think about it. You couldn’t take your eyes away from the skyline stretched before you. 

You finally said, “That depends on how good the drinks are.” 

When Ellie laughed, her eyes crinkled in the corners, her nose scrunching. It was a full, rich sound, hanging in the air above your head like helium. It made something in your chest tighten, and you wanted nothing more than to hear it again. 

She squeezed your hand, a twinkle in her eye, and said, “The old-fashioned's to die for.” 

You pursed your lips again to hide your smile.

Ellie didn’t bother checking in with the host, simply shot her a smile and a wave as you walked by - you tried to bite back a giggle when you saw the host’s face turn red, her eyes tracking Ellie as she led you to a table right along the edge of the railing. She pulled the chair out for you - “Such a gentleman,” you laughed - before taking the seat opposite you.

As she waved over a waiter, you took a moment to lean your head over the railing. It was made entirely of glass, giving you a clear view of the city below. You could hear the distant sound of traffic, cars racing below you like shiny beetles, but it was like it was coming from a different world altogether. Everything seemed impossibly, wonderfully small from up here. 

You looked up at the sound of your name to find a groomed waiter wearing a fucking waistcoat standing before you. Ellie was looking at you with laughter in her eyes, her lips twitching. 

“Shit, sorry,” you said, immediately flinching at your own curse. You suddenly couldn’t remember the proper etiquette in a fancy bar, feeling out of place and underdressed even in your nicest outfit. You looked between Ellie and the waiter, wracking your brain for any kind of drink that wasn’t a trashy cocktail you’d find at a dive bar. 

Seeing you floundering, Ellie gave you a reassuring smile and said, “Do you like wine?” 

Relief washed over you as you nodded. Turning back to the waiter, Ellie ordered something that you couldn’t even hope to pronounce, charm lifting the corner of her mouth. She spoke to the waiter with the steady ease of familiarity, laughing at some inside joke; you briefly wondered just how often Ellie came to this bar. Surely, a nice place like this - at the very precipice of the world, looking down at the stars - wouldn’t be a regular stop on anyone’s schedule, but Ellie and the staff spoke like old friends. 

When the waiter left, tussling Ellie’s hair playfully, she turned back to you and the awkwardness of a first date finally set in. Sure, you had been texting Ellie every day for a week now, but you still hardly knew the girl. You knew she liked mushrooms and hiking. You knew that most of her clothes were from the thrift store even though she could afford any designer brand she wanted. You knew her favorite video game was Dishonored. But nothing you knew was enough for a relationship. 

But you weren't exactly looking for love, were you? 

After a moment of silence, Ellie cleared her throat, looking out over the city. “It's nice out here.” 

You snorted before you could stop yourself, covering your mouth; it didn't cover the laughter in your eyes. You said, “You're really talking to me about the weather?”

Ellie opened her mouth, an indignant sparkle to her eye, before shutting it again. It was like she was malfunctioning, opening and closing her mouth yet no sound came out. She furrowed her brows, looking at you as though you were something new and interesting, before finally chuckling, looking away. “Yeah, I-I guess I am.” When she looked back up at you, her eyes were surprisingly sheepish. “Not making a great first impression, am I?”

You couldn't stop the smile that crept up to your eyes. You leaned closer, propping your chin in your hand, and said, “I think you're doing okay so far.” 

Ellie laughed that wondrous laugh again, her nose scrunching up, and the cord in your shoulders loosened. 

“Okay,” she sighed, her eyes still alight with residual laughter. “Okay, damn. Tell me about yourself.” 

“Well now this just sounds like a job interview.” 

Ellie threw her hands up in mock frustration, trying to stifle her own grin. “Okay, fuck, knock me down again! You're obviously an expert, so show me how it's done.” 

She leaned back and crossed her arms, looking at you expectantly, and it was the perfect moment for your drinks to arrive. Ellie did, in fact, order an old-fashioned. The waiter set two wine glasses on the table, producing a bottle seemingly from thin air. He held it out, explaining to you in rehearsed prose the year, acidity, and complexity in words that passed straight through you. You nodded along even as you didn't process a single word he said. 

When he left, you turned back to Ellie and said, “How did you find this place?” 

Ellie took a sip of her drink. The lights of the city danced in the amber glass. “Just an old haunt of mine, I guess.” 

You took a sip of the wine, taking the distraction. It was warm on your tongue, tasting of wood and fruit and something spicy just underneath. The wine you usually drank was the stuff you could find in your nearest grocery store, often tasting concerningly like bug spray and bought with whatever tips you had managed to scrape together from work. It was usually shared with a friend on your kitchen floor, the walls and thoughts spinning over your head. 

You much preferred wine like this: The taste of warmth and fire on your tongue, the cool air brushing your shoulders at the edge of the sky, and a beautiful person sitting across from you.

When Ellie lowered her glass, you could see amber droplets of whiskey clinging to her lips before her tongue darted out to catch them. You tore your eyes away, but her smile said that she had caught you staring. A chill ran up your spine that you were sure was just from the cold. 

Seeing you shiver, Ellie wordless reached behind her where she had tossed her jacket over the back of her chair. Standing, she rounded the table only for a moment, only long enough to place the coat over your shoulders. Her hands lingered there for a second too long before she retreated, sliding back into her seat as though she had never moved. 

“So, why are you here?” she finally said. 

You pulled the jacket around your shoulders, distracted by the smell of it. The same smell that must be her perfume clung to it, spiced and warm like an open fire, but something else clung to the fabric too. It was strangely metallic, sharp and intoxicating, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. It was shockingly warm against your skin. 

“I’m here,” you said, raising a brow and ignoring her real question, “because you sent me this address and told me to meet you here at eight wearing my nicest dress.” 

The corner of Ellie’s lips quirked, a grin she was trying to hide. She clasped her hands, leaning across the table so you could smell the whiskey on her breath. “And you agreed to meet a stranger at a seedy hotel,” she murmured, mocking your remark from earlier. Her grin revealed itself when your cheeks flushed. “But why are you here - what are you seeking?” 

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head. “That’s kind of a dumb question, don’t you think? It’s pretty obvious why I’m on the app.” You cocked your head, leaning across the table, feeling a strange thrill when her eyes flashed. Your heart fluttered at the proximity, and you couldn’t remember when you had become so easily starstruck. “The real question, Ellie, is why are you?“ 

Ellie’s eyes darkened, and you weren’t sure if you just imagined her eyes flicking down to your lips. She looked back up at you through her lashes, her voice rough when she said, “That’s a third date kind of question.” 

Your eyebrows shot up. “What makes you so sure you’ll get a third date?” 

Ellie tilted her head, a slow smile pulling at her lips, and said, “Call it a hunch.” 

The waiter came to check on you, appearing at your shoulder like a ghost. You hastily retreated, leaning back in your chair as though the electricity in the air had shocked you, and took a sip of wine that was more than a little overzealous. You tried to choke it down as Ellie waved the waiter away with that heartstopping crooked smile. What happened to you? Since when were you so easily charmed by freckles, green eyes, and smart-ass comments? You couldn't remember the last time you had been so infatuated during a normal date, let alone one with these kinds of strings attached. 

“So you don't want to be in an interview,” Ellie said once the waiter was out of earshot. “I guess all my typical getting to know you conversations are out of the question.” 

“I didn't say that,” you countered, your throat still burning from your accidental wine waterboarding. “But come on - what girl are you going to impress by asking her questions like ‘Tell me about yourself,’ or ‘Why are you here?’ or ‘Why are you more qualified for this position?’”

“Okay, okay, goddamn,” she said, laughing. Grabbing the wine bottle, she looked at you for permission before pouring you another glass.

You brought the glass up to your lips, taking a sip to hide your smile. The flush in your cheeks was surely from the wine and nothing else. “What about you?” 

“What about me?” 

“I hardly know you.” On one hand, that felt entirely untrue - but especially after this recent discovery, you really knew nothing about this girl. “Tell me about you.” 

Ellie laughed that same rough laugh and your heart jumped. “Oh, so you're allowed to be the interviewer.” 

You nodded, twirling the glass between your fingers and looking at her expectantly. 

After a moment, Ellie rolled her eyes and ran a hand through her hair, but you could see the humor in her eyes. She downed the last of her old-fashioned and, like a good sport, said, “What do you want to know?”

Turns out, there was a lot to know - more than a simple dating app would tell you. Ellie had an older sister, Sarah, who lived in Dallas. Her dog was named after her childhood best friend. Her jacket wasn't thrifted after all, but had been her dad's. Speaking of which, she used to go hunting with him every season (“I haven't been in years, though,” she said, her eyes distant). On the weekends, she'd go to antique stores to look for art and trinkets to fill her house - her favorite antiques were from the 17th century. She hated horror movies and was a sucker for a good romance. 

In return, you caved and answered her pressing questions. You told her about your best friend - Ellie laughed when you told her that your friend had sent you the link to the app in the first place. You told her about your favorite show that you binge-watched whenever you felt like you were spiraling. You did not tell her about your apartment that was probably the size of her closet or the fact that you'd have to watch your budget after taking the Uber tonight, not to mention the extra $30 Uber to get home later. You did tell her about your family, and a strange, unexplained sadness crept into the creases around her mouth. You did tell her about your job, but didn't mention the second one you worked to afford groceries. You told her you were hoping for a real, human connection, yet didn't mention that you couldn’t imagine finding it in a fucking sugar mommy. 

All too soon, the wine bottle was empty and your chest was comfortingly warm. The lights strung across the bar danced above your head like fuzzy stars, and Ellie's smile was the brightest amongst them. Her glass was still empty, her wine glass dry, and yet her eyes told you she was intoxicated by something far stronger. 

“Sorry,” you said, giggling despite yourself. “I didn't mean to drink it all.” 

“Don't worry about it, darling,” she said, her voice silky smooth, reminding you of melted chocolate sliding down your throat. She tilted her glass, letting the remnants of melting ice clink against the side. “I wanted to make sure I could drive home okay.” 

The waiter arrived then, pulling the bill from his pocket and handing it to Ellie. You couldn't read the number upside down, not through the haze of the wine, but the number of digits made your stomach clench. Ellie dropped a black card into the folder and handed it back to the waiter. 

“How much do you want me to Venmo you?” you asked when she turned back to you. You clenched your hands in the hem of your dress, already calculating the extra shift you'd have to pick up to afford it. 

Ellie tilted her head, her brows furrowed. “Nothing,” she said, as though it were obvious. 

“That wasn't exactly a cheap bottle, Ellie,” you laughed. “Let me give you something.” 

Ellie hummed, propping her chin in her hand and looking at you with those same intense eyes; it sent a dangerous shiver down your spine. “I like when you say my name.”

You blinked at her. “Excuse me.” 

“I want to hear it again. That's how you can repay me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ellie, I-” 

“Okay, now we're even,” she interrupted, smiling that crooked grin that you had started to crave. The waiter returned with her card and Ellie produced cash from her pocket, handing it to the waiter directly. He thanked her profusely before making his exit, grinning. When Ellie looked at you again, you were still watching her expectantly, dumbfounded. She finally rolled her eyes. “Seriously, what kind of date would I be if I made you pay?”

“You're not making me, I'm offering.” 

“And I'm saying no.” Ellie stood, straightening her shirt; when she tugged at it, the collar fell a bit, exposing sharp collarbones beneath. 

Rounding the table, she offered a hand to you, pulling you gently to your feet. You pulled her jacket tighter around yourself, knowing you needed to give it back yet unwilling to part with it just yet. 

Taking your arm, Ellie leaned in close enough that your breath caught in your throat and said, “I know why I found you on Seeking, okay? So, if it's alright with you, let me spoil you. Even if that just means one bottle of wine.” 

You laughed, but it sounded breathy even to your own ringing ears. “One very expensive bottle of wine.”

Ellie shrugged, a sparkle in her eye. “It's a small price to pay for your company.”

You were silent in the elevator, but you held on to her arm as though afraid to let go. You couldn't figure out why, but something in you urgently wanted nothing more than to be close to her. You couldn't remember the last time you had felt such a pull from somebody. 

Back on the street, the lights of the city seemed so much brighter than they had before. Ellie released your arm, turning to face you, and there was a strange pinch between her brows that you couldn't translate. 

“Do you want me to call you an Uber, or do you want me to take you home?” she asked, and your brain short-circuited. When you could do nothing but stammer, tripping over your own tongue, Ellie laughed. There was no mockery behind it, only quiet, bright amusement. “I meant I can drive you to your apartment so you don't have to drunkenly sit in an awkward Uber that smells sickeningly sweet and the driver tries to make mind-numbing small talk.” 

Your sigh of relief came out more like a laugh. 

Ellie tilted her head and stepped closer to you, her hand reaching out to graze your fingers, and that sigh was sucked right back into your lungs. Being so close to her made your head spin. Her breath fanned against your cheeks, smelling of warm whiskey, when she said, “Unless you want to come to my place?”

It had the uncertain tilt of a question, and Ellie wouldn't quite meet your eyes. 

“We don't have to do anything,” she continued in a rush. She scratched anxiously at the back of her head, a nervous laugh slipping between her lips. “We can just sit and talk more. Or watch a movie - my dad had this huge collection. I'm not gonna - You know, I'm not going to do anything you don't want.” She finally interrupted herself with a groan, rubbing a hand over her eyes. “Fuck, sorry, I wanted it to sound more suave than this.” 

And you would be a fucking idiot to go home with this impossible stranger. You had been taught better - never get into a stranger's car, and for the love of God, never let them take you to a second location. You could let her take you back to your apartment at least - you were admittedly incredibly tipsy and didn't particularly want to endure another ride with an annoyingly talkative Uber driver. You could go home, back to your claustrophobic, quiet apartment, and maybe - maybe - text  Ellie about setting up a second date. 

You were not stupid enough to go home with somebody on the first date. 

Except clearly you were, because you took the hand that was still grazing your fingers and looked up at Ellie - the contours of her face were shockingly etched with insecurity. And your dumb mouth said, of its own volition, “Okay.”

You had expected something flashy, like what a wealthy person would own in a movie - like a penthouse overlooking the city with too-white walls and electric guitars hanging, unused, on the walls. Maybe she had walls completely made of windows so it felt like you were on a pedestal overlooking the world. 

You hadn't expected a house that was older than your great-grandparents. 

When Ellie pulled into the driveway, you were sure she was just pulling in someplace to turn around, that she had missed her turn somewhere. But she put her stupidly-expensive car into park and killed the engine, shooting you an awkward glance. 

“Sorry,” she said, chuckling. “I know it’s not much.” 

You could only look at her incredulously, speechless, before looking back up at the house before you. You couldn’t even call it a house really - estate would be more fitting. Maybe mansion. Fuck, her house was the size of your apartment complex. It towered over you, three stories of intricate woodwork, warm brown beams wrapping around the structure like an elaborate skeleton. With beautiful eaves winding around the roof and an entire turret reaching for the moon, it looked like something that had stepped right out of some 1800s southern gothic novel. 

Ellie cleared her throat, startling you from a trance. You looked back at her and, for some reason, couldn’t stop yourself from laughing.

”Shit, sorry,” you said, covering your mouth with your hand. “I just - I’ve just never seen anything like it.” When Ellie’s eyes clouded over with uncertainty, you added softly, “It’s beautiful. Besides, Ellie,” you added, laughing again, “‘not much’ doesn’t really suit you.” 

Ellie opened and closed her mouth and yet no words came out. She was looking at you again as though you were something interesting - something new and exciting. Nobody had ever looked at you that way before, and the way your heart clenched at the sight was more than a little dangerous. 

Ellie finally smiled, huffing out a laugh - your heart was pretty satisfied with how often you were able to make her laugh - and said, “Do you still want to come inside?” 

And, surprisingly, you said, “Yeah, I do.” 

As Ellie got out, rounding the car to open your door for you, you discreetly checked that the taser was still in your bag. Sure, you had agreed to go home with a practical stranger, but you couldn't be too careful. 

The porch steps creaked as she led you to the door - double doors (of course), with stained glass and twisting vines carved into the wood. When Ellie opened them, it felt like you were transported to a different time on an entirely different world. 

The grand staircase caught your eye first - how could it not? Warm wooden steps covered in a blood red runner, a white banister winding up, those same vines that seemed to be the house’s signature carved into it. You could see a large, stained-glass window at the landing before it curved to disappear to the second floor. Moonlight splintered through the window in broken relief. 

As though in a trance, you wandered further into the house, walking to the fireplace situated right beneath the stairs. The wood stacked neatly inside was cold, untouched by a flame. There was a large mirror set atop the mantle, its gold frame a work of art alone. In the reflection, you could see the flush to your cheeks, and tried to convince yourself it was only from the cold. You still wore Ellie’s jacket, and you pulled it tight around your shoulders, as though it were a shield. 

You watched Ellie’s reflection as she walked slowly towards you, a small smile gracing her lips. She came close enough to touch - close enough that you could feel her cool breath against the back of your neck - and yet she didn’t put a hand on you. 

“There’s a lot more to see than the foyer,” she murmured, the words brushing your skin. “If you still want.” 

And you couldn’t stop your own smile as you turned back to her, your heart skipping at her proximity. “Show me.” 

She took your hand, her fingers shockingly cold, and led you into what must have been her living room - sitting room? Despite the fact that the house felt more like a museum - like you would get scolded for touching anything - the room was surprisingly cozy. A large, plush sectional was situated in front of another fireplace- this one also unblemished. Blankets and quilts were thrown over the couch and the accompanying chairs, leaving this time capsule looking strangely welcoming. 

“Okay, I have to ask,” you said, turning back to Ellie. She was watching you carefully, gauging your reaction with soft eyes, and you lost your train of thought. You opened your mouth but no sound came out; you weren’t sure if that was more or less embarrassing than the several curses you had said earlier in the night. 

Ellie hummed, raising her hand as though she wanted to touch you. She stopped only inches away from your cheek and dropped her hand, saying, “I’m an open book.” 

You had to turn away to collect your thoughts, wandering across the room if just to catch your breath. The opposite wall was lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. You ran your fingers along the spines of vintage classics, an array of science books, and comics, enjoying the irony of seeing Savage Starlight in the middle of all this history. You picked up a copy to keep your hands busy. 

“How, um,” you started, stumbling over your words, “how did you end up here?” 

Ellie hummed again, and you heard her footsteps following you. “Here as in this town, this country, this world? You gotta be a little more specific.” 

You sighed, giving in and turning to look at her. She kept a careful distance, standing a few feet away from you with her hands in her pockets. “You know what I mean, smartass.”

Ellie chuckled, but her eyes had grown distant, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. She took a few more steps closer to you, looking at the comic book in your hands. On the app, she hadn’t struck you as the type to get easily bashful, and yet she had proven you wrong a few times already. 

“My family lived here,” she finally said, quiet as a secret. You watched her carefully, jumping at the opportunity to stare at her without those intense eyes looking back at you. Her brow furrowed and she pressed her lips together as though she was in pain, her green eyes shining. “It was just… passed down, I guess? It’s kind of always been here ever since I can remember. I’m not entirely sure when it became mine.” 

You tucked the comic book back into its spot between The Iliad and The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. You said absently, “How old is this place anyway?”

”It was built in 1816,” she said automatically, as though it were memorized. 

“It’s an awfully big house for just one person.” You looked up at her through your lashes as she stepped closer - close enough that you could smell that same metallic warmth that seemed to cling to her. 

“It is,” Ellie murmured, smiling. She reached out again, and this time she allowed herself to touch you. Her cold fingers brushed against your cheek before she gently cupped your jaw, tilting your head so you’d look at her properly. Her green eyes were downright intimidating. “But I keep good company.” 

You rolled your eyes, yet you couldn’t convince yourself to look away. “Is that what you say to all the girls?” 

Ellie hummed, bracing her other hand on the bookshelf behind your head, and murmured, “No, I don’t.” She pressed in closer, her gaze dropping to your mouth, and you felt like your heart was going to leap from your throat. Ellie huffed out a laugh as though she could hear it pounding against your chest. When her thumb brushed your bottom lip, your lips parted on instinct. She didn’t look away, transfixed on the point where her skin touched your mouth, and you almost didn’t hear her when she said, “Can I?” 

And you had never been the kind of person to kiss on the first date, but she was looking at you with eyes hooded with want, her breath fanning against your cheeks. When she licked her lips, you couldn’t stop your eyes from following the motion. Her lips glistened, parted and plump, looking so impossibly soft. Somehow, past your haze, you heard yourself say, “Yes.” 

Ellie took her time in kissing you. She pressed you back gently, your shoulders pressing into the bookshelf behind you, and touched her nose to yours. She took a deep breath, breathing you in. Her hand was soft against your cheek, tilting your jaw up, and you hardly had to move to finally kiss her. 

Ellie tasted just like she smelled - spicy and metallic, the old-fashioned still hanging on her tongue. Despite the cold of her hand on your cheek, her mouth was impossibly warm, her breath slipping between your lips; it was intoxicating in a way that the wine couldn’t compare to. Her mouth moved against yours, soft and slow as a dance. 

Your hands reached out as though of their own accord, circling her waist and gripping at the slippery silk of her shirt. She pressed in close, crowding you against the bookshelf; you could feel her chest pressing against you, her hips on yours, the line of her body against yours making your head spin. And when Ellie’s tongue pressed against your lips, a gentle request for access, you felt like you’d faint altogether. 

Her tongue slipped between your teeth and you couldn’t stop the breathy sound it pulled from your throat. You could feel that infuriating smile against your lips and suddenly wanted nothing more than to wipe it away. You balled her ridiculously expensive shirt in your hands and pulled her impossibly closer, nipping at her bottom lip, and you wanted to swallow her gasp. 

Ellie pulled away, chuckling, but she didn’t go far. She pressed a kiss to your cheek, her lips trailing down to your jaw, and she could probably feel your pulse jump beneath her tongue. You could hear the smile in her voice when she said, “Do you do this often?” 

Her teeth grazed the sensitive spot below your ear, and it took you a few moments before you could respond. “Do what?” Despite yourself - despite the way your fingers gripped her shirt, your head swimming and an unexplainable want burning in your veins - you couldn’t help but laugh. “Go on a date with somebody I met on an app for sugar babies and go back to their ridiculously old mansion on the first date and-“ 

You cut yourself off. You weren’t sure exactly what was happening, and you were afraid that voicing it would break whatever spell you were under - whatever spell made this impossible woman’s touch feel like lightning. 

But Ellie only laughed, biting at the spot where your neck met your shoulder. “Yeah, that.” 

You shivered against her touch. “No, I’ve never really done this.” 

“Guess I’m just lucky.” 

Ellie kissed you again, only briefly, before she finally pulled away. She was grinning, her eyes sparkling with those same constellations; her face wasn’t even flushed, making you feel embarrassed about your burning cheeks. You were panting, intoxicated from the night and wine and Ellie. Her absence felt like an ache, your body craving the feeling of her lips, her teeth, her hands. You were close to tugging her back in, your hands still gripping her shirt, but she gently untangled herself from you with a laugh. 

“I want to keep going.” She paused, and then emphasized, “I really want to keep going. But you drank an entire bottle of wine, and I’d be kind of a shitty host if I didn’t offer you something to drink at least. Or are you hungry?” 

You were hungry, but it was the kind of hunger that food wouldn’t satiate. Still, you let your hands drop back to your sides, feeling your senses return to you now that they weren’t so tuned into Ellie - how she smelled, tasted, felt. When you laughed, it sounded breathy even to your own ears. “Some water would be nice.” 

“I can do that,” she said with a smile. “Stay here.” She kissed you again, lingering for a few moments longer than needed, before she turned and disappeared down the hall, leaving you alone in this ridiculously old mansion. 

With nothing else to keep yourself entertained, you did a slow lap around the room, eyeing the ironic blend of elegant antiques and silly trinkets that were so obviously Ellie. A cracked ivory trinket box sat on a shelf, intricate flowers engraved into the lid, set right next to a small figurine of an astronaut. Beautiful paintings lined the walls, signatures dating back to 1830 in elaborate script at the bottom, but there were also a few posters littered here and there - bands and video games. 

You walked over to the mantle, your fingers grazing over the marble top. The logs inside were untouched, and you briefly wondered if she’d light a fire soon to chase out the chill of autumn. A small jar filled with guitar picks sat at the corner, and you wondered if she really did have an electric guitar collection hidden around here somewhere. Your foot kicked an empty dog bowl, and yet Riley was nowhere to be found. Maybe Ellie took her to daycare when she knew she’d bring a girl home. You nearly laughed at the idea. 

Atop the mantle, hidden behind pictures of what must have been friends or family - hiking or traveling or laughing in somebody’s backyard - there was another picture frame. It must have fallen, face down so that the picture inside was covered. You reached out, careful to not disturb any of the other frames, and picked it up. You were just going to fix it, set it up next to the others, but something in the image caught your eye. You plucked it from its home, bringing it closer, holding it up to the light to get a better look. For a long time, you couldn’t figure out what you were looking at. Your heart hammered against your chest, your ears ringing, as though your body had figured it out before your brain did. 

It was an old photograph, grainy and sepia, faded and frayed around the edges with age. It was the house, looking just like it did today - the huge windows shining in the sunlight, the intricate eaves and wrap-around porch perfectly polished and new. A family stood on the lawn in front of the house, looking awkward and stiff. Back then, cameras took several minutes to actually capture a photo, so people tended to look a little awkward from trying to hold the same expression for so long. But that’s not what had caught your eye. 

It was a small family - a weary looking dad and his two daughters, looking just a few years younger than you. 

She looked a little different. Her hair was longer, falling in waves around her shoulders. She was definitely a few years younger, and she wore a sweet, full-length gown instead of a worn leather jacket. 

You checked the date in the bottom corner at least five times, but there was no mistaking it. The person in the photo was undeniably Ellie, standing in front of this house in 1816. 

tag list: @macaroni676 @ellstronaut @elliewilliamsmiller0 @elliescoolerwife @letsreadsomesins-shallwe @peejayurple @liliflowers-blog @filtered-sunlight @hobbybound

[temporarywelcome]

hii

i absolutely love the spencer reid smooth criminal fic you wrote 💝

kinda sad no hotch mention 😩

could you please write more for spencer reid x kelopto!reader? like they need her to discreetly get something from an unsub for them and more shenanigans take place?

THANK YOUUU

( and sorry if this isn't coherent!!!)

hey bae here it is! Sorry it took so long, I had to flee from a hurricane... Didn't mention Hotch much in the first fic bc honestly i didnt think hed gaf like everyone else did lol. Anyway, here it is:

Special Consult - Spencer Reid

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: The BAU has a tricky case, though the clock is ticking, only a matter of time till the unsub strikes again. And so they bring in some help: Spencer's girlfriend, the one person who can break into a millionaire serial killer's home undetected.

Warnings: some swearing, very brief violence

A/N: can be read as standalone but is technically part of my "Smooth Criminal" series.

____________

This unsub was slick.

An unsub in Virginia. Convenient enough for the BAU, only a few hours away. 

This unsub had tortured and killed four girls, recording the events and sending tapes to the families of the victims. 

According to the profile the BAU created, the unsub was way too sophisticated for these to be his first kills. 

And it led the team to a man named Richard Smith. Thirty seven years old, with a wife and two kids. 

The BAU knew he probably had more tapes, prior victims’ pain and suffering locked away somewhere. So the team came in with a warrant, turning his home upside down in search of not just tapes, but any piece of evidence that could be used against him.

They came up with nothing.

According to Garcia, that house was the only property under his name. 

So were they wrong? Did they suspect the wrong guy? The BAU reevaluated the profile, coming out stumped.

It was him. It had to be him.

So how did they prove it? Did they have to catch him in the act of slaughtering another innocent woman to actually catch him? 

“He should have the other trophies,” Morgan muttered, staring at the information on the whiteboard intently, “What are we missing?”

“Where else could he be hiding them?” Hotch asked, more to himself than the rest of the team, “There's no wooded area in a thirty-mile radius. A family member? Friend?”

“That doesn't fit the profile. He's incredibly secretive with his work, he would want it close to him, but hidden away,” said Reid. 

“Garcia's on the line,” Prentiss gestured to the open laptop, Penelope’s face filling the screen. The team stopped conversing, bringing their attention to her.

“Hey, my loves, just got some juicy, juicy information on Mr. Richard Smith,” she began, “He had this home built in 2009, and I noticed something fishy with the blueprints. There was one room on the second floor labeled ‘mechanic room’.”

Rossi's brows furrowed in confusion, “We found no ‘mechanic room’? Where is it located?”

“The door is in the library!” She replied.

“In the library? There was no other door…” Realization hit Prentiss, “A panic room?”

“Possibly,” JJ agreed, “You think the evidence we need would be in there?”

“That could be where he's torturing the victims as well,” Hotch suggested.

Rossi wasn't convinced, “You think he could get those women in there without his wife and kids finding out? Even knowing their schedules, there's always the chance of them going off schedule at some point and accidentally catching him in the act.” 

“It's worth a shot,” said Hotch, “Especially with his timeline. He should have his next victim now. He'll kill her tomorrow. Dump her the day after.”

“We don't have time for another warrant,” JJ pointed out in worry. 

“Isabella Carson was reported missing two days ago,” added Garcia, “he's probably got her.”

“She doesn't have a lot of time left.” Said Rossi.

JJ crossed her arms over her chest, “What do we do then?”

“We have to save that girl,” Prentiss stated the obvious, “Warrant or not she needs us.”

“We can't just bust in there. Especially if we're wrong-” Derek paused, a grin forming on his face, “Who is someone who can get into that mega mansion undetected and get out just as undetected?” 

“Someone who has done this before?” added Prentiss.

“And gotten away with it?” added JJ.

They all turned to Spencer, who looked at them in confusion. “What? I've never done that.” 

“Not you, Reid,” Rossi deadpanned, “Y/N.”

Spencer's eyes widened, “Y/N? Absolutely not! She's never done a house robbery before!”

Y/N, Spencer's lovely girlfriend, was a diagnosed kleptomaniac, who can't resist her urges to steal. Most of the time, it was stupid things like a pencil or a pack of gum. She usually returned what she had stolen. 

However, that was just most of the time. 

She had admitted to robbing a bank once (well, multiple times, actually, but the team didn't need to know that). And other robberies like stores and gas stations.

She was a master with her hands, able to steal within seconds without a single person noticing. 

“I'm not going to send her off to the home of the unsub.” Spencer said firmly, shaking his head.

“Reid, that girl is going to die unless we can find new evidence against him!” exclaimed Prentiss.

“As sad as that is, it's either her or my girlfriend,” Spencer said dryly, “And I don't know about you, but I'd like my girlfriend to live.”

“We will be right there. If she needs backup, we'll be there.” Rossi persuaded.

“Still, no.  Besides, she has rehearsal tonight.” Reid said firmly. 

His phone rang and he fished it out of his pocket to silence it.

Y/N.

“Gee, Reid, maybe you should answer.” Said Rossi.

“So you can harass her?” He scoffed.

“Reid's right, we can’t put Y/N in danger.” Said Hotch, “It’s unprofessional and dangerous.” Always the voice of reason.

“Then what do we do? We're going to have another body,” Derek pointed out. 

“Another body?”

Spencer jumped and looked down at his phone, noticing he was holding it so tightly he had pressed the ‘accept’ button. “Oh… hi, Y/N.”

“Hey, baby. What's going on?”

__________

Oh, he was going to shit his pants.

Well, he wasn't, but he felt like he was going to, his girlfriend sitting surrounded by the BAU as she viewed the blueprints of Richard Smith's home. 

“So I just have to go here?” Y/N asked, pointing at the room labeled ‘mechanic room’. “Easy enough,”

“It’s on the second floor,” Spencer reminded her, biting his bottom lip. 

“Yeah. Should still be pretty easy.” she looked up at him, “Baby, sit down. You look like you’re going to pass out.” 

“Because you’re going to infiltrate the house of the unsub!” he exclaimed. Was he the only one who thought this was crazy? That this was a terrible idea? “Hotch, would you let Hailey do something so dangerous?”

“Of course not,” Hotch answered honestly, “I think this is a bad idea too,” 

“Come on,” Y/N scoffed at them, “I’m like a pro at this.”

“You’ve never broken into people’s homes before,” Spencer huffed. 

“Actually, I have,” she noticed the looks the BAU members were exchanging, “A long time ago.”

“Kleptomaniacs steal from impulse. You broke into homes on impulse?” Rossi asked with a raised brow.

“Oh, no. That was for attention. Anyway…” Y/N looked down at the blueprints again, “Garcia, Imma need you to check to see if this guy has ever purchased an alarm system. Imma assume he has one, to keep all his rich people stuff safe.”

“I believe I saw a system when we searched the place,” JJ added helpfully. 

“Ah, look at that,” Reid said, “Guess she can’t break in,” 

“Of course I can. Don’t start doubting me now,” 

Holy shit, can’t she take a hint? He didn’t want her to do this. He wanted her at her rehearsal, safe and far away from Richard Smith. Unfortunately for Spencer, her rehearsal was cancelled, which was why she had called him in the first place. 

Y/N pulled him down to the seat next to her, an arm going around his waist as she began scribbling plans of execution all over the blueprints. "Relax," she said simply, which didn't help him relax at all.

“Don’t worry, pretty boy,” Morgan placed a hand on his shoulder comfortingly, “We’ll be right outside just in case. She’s not going to get hurt, even if she gets caught.”

“The only reason I’m allowing this,” Hotch pointed out, “...is because I believe she won’t get caught.”

“We value our jobs,” Rossi added.

“Think of it like this, baby: most of the times I got caught,” Y/N smirked, “It was because I wanted to be.”

______________________

The car ride towards Richard Smith’s home was silent. 

Spencer was seated in the passenger seat, being the Passenger Princess he was, arms crossed, staring out the window with his bottom lip jutted out.

“Baby,” Y/N said.

“Humph,” was what she got out of him.

“Baby,” she repeated. 

“What?” he finally faced her, arms still crossed over his chest. 

“I’m going to be okay,”

“Why did you even agree to this?!” he finally exploded, his anger and worry finally coming out in one swift motion, “That man is a serial killer! He could kill you! And if I lose you…” he huffed again, turning to look out the window once again.

“You’re not going to lose me,” Y/N’s free hand went to his knee, the other on the wheel, “Besides, even if I did meet my unfortunate demise, I’ll make sure to haunt you.”

“This isn’t funny!” he whined, looking at her again with those big, sad puppy dog eyes that literally always got him what he wanted from her.

But not this time. 

She chuckled softly, patting his knee, “Sorry, baby. Just trying to lighten up the mood.”

“It’s not working,” 

“I’ll buy you a really nice present tomorrow,”

“You can’t do that if you’re a ghost,” 

She hummed in response, “I’ll be a special ghost. You’ll know it’s me whenever you enter your apartment and somehow Girls’ Generation is playing,”

Finally, the corners of his lips curl up in a tiny smile, “Of course it’s Girls’ Generation. That’s how I know I’m really in a horror movie.”

“Whoa!” Y/N said dramatically, “Spencer Reid said a joke? A disrespectful one towards my queens, but a joke nonetheless!” she laughed, pinching his cheek. “I love you, baby. Never disrespect Girls’ Generation again, though,” 

A giggle escaped him, “Yes, ma’am, I love you too” his smile faded when she parked the car, a few blocks away from Richard Smith. “Oh. We’re here,” 

“Mhm, can you pass the equipment, please?” 

With a sigh, Spencer reached towards the backseat and grabbed a headband with a camera attached. Y/N held out a hand to take it but Spencer ignored her, putting it on her himself. His brows were furrowed in concentration, bottom lip puffed out as he adjusted the camera on her head.

“Stop being cute, it makes me want to make out with you,” Y/N grumbled. 

“Shut up, you’re going after the unsub, like you want me to have a heart attack. No kisses for you,”

“Okay, but like, if I do die and become a ghost, I won’t even need to haunt you, because the fact the last time I ever asked for a kiss, you denied me, and I die a few hours after will haunt you for the rest of your life.” 

“Stop it!” he huffed, hitting her shoulder, “You’re making me nervous!” 

“Does your team know you’re both demanding and abusive?” Y/N asked dramatically, rubbing her shoulder that didn’t even hurt.

“I'm neither,”

“You're demanding, a thousand percent. I guess you just save that for me.’

“No I don't!” 

Y/N laughed, cupping his cheeks, “I love you. I'll be okay. This ain't my first rodeo.”

She leaned in for a kiss but he huffed at her. “No kisses for asshole girlfriends.”

“Shit, baby, you're evil.” she giggled, “I guess I should hurry up and get this over with so I can get some, eh?”

“Youre not getting shit.” it was a venomous thing to say, but he giggled again, leaning in and giving her a kiss. He was never much of a playful person, but with Y/N it was different. She was different. And he quite liked it. 

“Ah, I'm such a bad influence, got you cursing all over the place,” she pinched his cheek lovingly before getting out of the car. 

The couple gathered with the rest of the BAU, cramped in the back of a van where Garcia had computers set up, typing away. 

“Alright,” she began, “We will be able to see everything you see,” she pressed a button, and the monitor changed, showing the side of Spencer's head, because that was exactly what Y/N was looking at. “There!” 

“Remember your task. Look for tapes, or any other sort of evidence while you make your way up to the library. Once in there, access the panic room.” Hotch began, holding up a USB-like device, “Insert this into the lock, and Garcia will be able to find the pass code for you. Remember, the main goal of this mission is to get Isabella out of there.”

“I got you,” Y/N grinned, nodding, “Easy peasy,” she turned to Spencer, who looked ready to vomit. “I'll be okay! Promise. Have I ever broken a promise?” 

Spencer looked up at her, plump bottom lip between his teeth, “No.” 

She smiled, cupping his cheek, “I don't plan on starting now,” she kissed his cheek before pulling away, “Time to commit some crimes.”

________ 

Once the alarm system was disabled, Y/N found herself opening a window and entering the mega mansion’s dining room. The BAU stood huddled together at the monitor, watching her work.

“Shit,” she smirked, picking up the fancy centerpiece, “This is fancy,”

Spencer groaned, saying into the mic, “Y/N, focus.” She was wearing an earpiece to hear any direction from the team. 

“Yeah yeah yeah,” she put the centerpiece down, “Find evidence. Got it.”

Fuck, he was biting at his nails, silently cursing out his team for coming up with this idea, cursing out Y/N for agreeing to this. He felt like vomiting. 

Y/N began searching around the first floor: dining room, living room, other living room (?), kitchen, and then… the first bedroom.

“I’m going to throw up,” Reid muttered, head in his hands. 

“The fun’s just started,” she said smugly, twisting the knob quietly. She entered the room, and Spencer realized he was holding his breath. 

Richard Smith’s daughter, Emma, was fast asleep in her bed, luckily with a pair of headphones on, easing Spencer’s worries somewhat. Y/N began rummaging through her things, looking to see if her father might have left something in her room. For all they knew, the whole family could be in on it. 

“Holy shit,” Y/N whispered.

“What?! What is it?!” Spencer exclaimed, feeling his hands begin to sweat. 

“Do you see Richard?” asked Hotch, brows furrowed, his usual unamused expression on his face. 

“Emma is a Sone!” 

“...a what?” Rossi asked.

Spencer, feeling second-hand embarrassment over his girlfriend’s words, explained, “People who like Girls’ Generation,” 

On the monitor, a musical album filled the screen, showing what Y/N was looking at. She held it, obviously observing it.

“Y/N,” Spencer said, lips uncomfortably close to the microphone, “Put that back. Please,”

“It’s an old album too,” she opened it up. 

Rossi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “This is what we can expect sending a kleptomaniac into the home of a very wealthy family…”

“Y/N,” Spencer repeated, “Put down the album. I will literally buy you that exact same album. Please focus,” 

Y/N gasped, making the whole team jump in worry. “She’s got Jessica!” she held a small cardboard album inclusion with a pretty woman on it to the camera on her forehead. “Jessica!”

He couldn’t believe this was happening. His girlfriend who was supposed to aid the BAU in catching a serial killer was busy ogling over her idol Jessica in said serial killer’s home. He couldn’t tell if he was horrified, embarrassed, or both. 

“We might have made a mistake,” Prentiss muttered as the team watched Y/N begin to shove objects into her bag. 

“This is stealing,” Spencer stated the obvious, trying to stay calm, “Put it back, Y/N,” he pronounced each word slowly, as if sternly speaking to a small child.

“Fine,” she huffed.

Spencer glanced at the team, “We’re going to have to pat her down when she gets out of there,” 

“Must be nice having a girlfriend you can’t even trust,” Rossi stated sarcastically. 

“Not now, Rossi,” Spencer groaned. He spoke into the mic again, “Y/N, I’m begging, please get on task.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” she grumbled quietly, leaving the room, “No fun,”

“A girl might die,” Rossi reminded her dryly. 

“We’re going to get fired,” JJ added. 

“It’s going to be fine,” Y/N huffed, going into another room. “Trust me,” she began to go up a grand staircase, “Imma be this rich, baby, trust,” she whispered, obviously to Spencer.

“Legally?” Rossi deadpanned.

“Let’s focus on the task,” sighed Hotch. 

“Yeah, Rossi,” Y/n grumbled, “Let’s focus on the task,” she reached for a random decorative piece on the wall, her impulses taking over.

“Y/N,” Spencer said through gritted teeth, “Don’t,”

She paused, hands hovering over it, “Sorry, baby,” 

He sighed in relief, realizing he’s getting somewhere with her. She was starting to actually listen to him and fight the urges. 

“Good job, pretty boy,” Morgan said with a nod, “Keep her on task,” 

Spencer nodded, biting his bottom lip, “I’m trying,” He knew this was going to be the most stressful case of his life. 

It was a complete mess, a constant battle to keep her from stealing unnecessary junk throughout the abnormally large home. From diamond jewelery to magnets, this woman was struggling to not grab everything around her.

She finally made it to the library, and Spencer let out a soft sigh of relief. They were getting somewhere. However, so far, not a single piece of evidence was found. This was their last shot to prove their profile was correct. 

Y/N closed the door behind her, scanning the area. She began going through the desk, humming to herself as she looked for anything of use. She then paused, eyes on a small container of paper clips.

“Focus,” Spencer already knew what she was thinking. “Y/N-”

She snatched up a handful and placed it in her bag. 

“Y/N!” he groaned, “You do not need more paper clips.” That was the problem with kleptomania. She never needed the things she stole. It was a desire she couldn’t control (okay, sometimes it was for fun). There was absolutely no reason she needed a whole handful of paper clips. But her brain told her she did. 

Y/N ignored him, grabbing another handful and looking around the room again, “The mechanic room should be… here.” she gestured in front of her, a large bookshelf, “Oh my God is there like a book that when you grab it, it’s actually a lever, and it reveals the secret door to the secret room?” she started grabbing at books on the shelves excitedly. 

“We’re going to get fired,” JJ repeated.

Gripping another book, Y/N hooted in victory, the book not budging and making a clicking sound instead. She backed up, watching the shelf move, revealing a door. “Fuck yeah,” she took out the USB device and a screwdriver, getting to work on the passlock. Once it was open, she inserted the USB.

“My turn,” Garcia hummed, typing away on a monitor, “Okay, the code is 9-1-4-7-2.”

Y/N repeated Garcia’s words as she pressed the buttons, unlocking the door. “Moment of truth,” The large metal door began to open on its own, and Y/N entered the room, flashlight in hand. She began looking for a light switch, pausing when she saw a small bin. In curiosity, she went towards it.

“Look for evidence, not things to steal,” Spencer reminded her.

“No fun,” she opened the box, “Shit…” she held up an object to the camera, “...tapes.” She looked down at the tape again, reading it, “ ‘Fun with Hannah“

“Same handwriting as the unsub,” Morgan pointed out, “Same language use,” 

To confirm, Y/N picked up another tape. Fun with Katherine. 

“That’s what we need,” Hotch said, “These were before he decided to send them to families, so there’s a chance these aren’t edited and his face might be visible. Y/N, grab a few.”

“Jackpot,” she held up something else: a leatherbound journal with yellowing pages, “Journal,” 

“Okay, you got evidence. Get out of there,” Spencer said quickly. 

“We still need to find Isa-” Y/N’s eyes widened as she moved her flashlight, coming face-to-face with a girl bound to a chair, “Shit, fuck, shit, I’m like actually in the mega mansion of a serial killer,” 

“I’m going to throw up,” Reid gasped, biting at his nails again. 

“Untie her!” Hotch stated the obvious, trying to keep everyone from losing it, “Untie her and get out of there,” 

“Right, right,” Y/N reached for the girl, when she suddenly went, “Oh, shit!” 

Spencer’s eyes widened in terror as Y/N turned around, coming face-to-face with Richard Smith. Without a second thought, he shoved his gun into its holster and bolted out of the van, sprinting down the street. 

“Go, go, go!” Hotch shouted, the rest of the team barreling after the boy genius. 

Spencer was not a runner.  He was a terrible athlete. Yet he ran like a track star, his heart beating practically out of his chest with each step on the concrete. 

If anything happened to her, he wasn’t sure what he would do.

___________

“Hi there,” Y/N said casually, trying to calm her nerves in front of Richard Smith, the unsub, the killer of God knows how many young women, “Does your wife know about this little hobby of yours?”

From the profile given to her, Y/N knew he was narcissistic and full of himself. She had to keep him talking. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said simply. 

“I know,” she replied, glancing at poor Isabella Carson, who looked terrified, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. “You know, you did a great job here. How did you manage to not get caught?”

Richard looked at her in confusion, a brow raised in suspicion, “Excuse me?”

“How’d you do it? How’d you get away with it?” she asked

The serial killer smirked, leaning against a wall in the secret room, “You broke in here to ask about my killing methods?”

Y/N nodded, biting her bottom lip in an innocent way, “They’re admirable, actually. I’m sorry I didn’t go to you directly, I didn’t want to disturb your sleep.” 

A look of victory crossed the killer’s face, “No no, that’s fine. I just… didn’t think anyone was admiring my work.” 

A very rich man who made his riches by exploiting others. He was a dominant force, and needed to feel it. And Y/N knew this. 

“So how did you do it, Sir?” Y/N asked, “I want to learn from you,” 

Richard’s smirk grew as she spoke, “Learn from me, huh? Alright… well, my family is here at the moment but… some other time, I can absolutely teach you my ways,” his eyes flickered towards her chest, then her eyes again. 

“Well, I won’t bother you anymore,” Y/N said, inching towards the door, “I hope we can meet again-” Richard put his arm in the way of the door, and Y/N knew she was trapped. “Um, I’ll leave you be-” 

“No,” a devlish look appeared on his face.

“Yes,” without a second thought, her hand flew out of her pocket, and she was tazing his balls.

He did not like that.

“Okay.” she began as he shouted and crumbled to the floor, “Now my super hot FBI boyfriend is going to come arrest your ugly ass in three… two… one-”

“Y/N?!”

“There he is,” she grinned, turning over her shoulder, “In here, baby!” she called after him. 

Spencer came sprinting up to the library, “Y/N?! Y/N!” he threw his arms around her, “You’re okay,”

“Yeah,” she brought an arm around him, eyes on Richard Smith who was laid out on the floor, “I’m okay,”

_________

The rest of the BAU came in after, freeing Isabella Carson and arresting Richard Smith.

His family was not happy. 

Once outside of the mansion, Spencer conduced a pat-down of his girlfriend, removing all of the stolen objects from her bag and body. 

“Do you really have to steal everything you see?” he grumbled, finding some pens in her boot. 

“I can’t help it, baby,” 

“I know,” he sighed, standing up, “By the way,” he cupped her cheeks, “You’re not allowed to help on a case ever again,”

She laughed, pressing a kiss to his lips, “I don’t think crime solving is my thing anyway, darling,” 

“Good, I was terrified,” he nuzzled into her neck, “This job is stressful enough, I don’t need to worry about you as well,” he paused, “I still have to worry about you anyway.” 

“Am I really that much of a terror?” 

“A bit,” 

He then was called up by Hotch, so he gave her another kiss on the cheek before grabbing a box filled with the goodies she stole, walking off to him.

She waited till he was far enough away before, with a big smirk, she pulled out a card from under her sleeve. 

The Jessica Jung photocard she found.

_________

A few weeks later, the BAU sat together, viewing a case.

“I don’t understand,” Rossi muttered in thought, “How can these two rob these banks so easily? No weapons, they kill their victims an hour after with their bare hands. How are they doing this?”

“If only we knew someone who has robbed a bank before,” said JJ.

“With no weapons either,” said Morgan.

“And didn’t get caught,” said Prentiss.

All eyes went to Spencer.

“I’ve never robbed a bank before-”

“Not you. Y/N,” Morgan deadpanned. 

“Well, actually, she did get caught-”

“The first time,” Rossi corrected, “Garcia found some messaged between Y/N and a friend. She gave us printouts,”

Spencer sighed, rolling his eyes, “She’s always giving printouts,” 

“So,” JJ grinned, “Is Y/N busy?”

And that's how Spencer found himself with an annoyed expression in the corner of the office, the rest of the team huddled around the case's special consult, Y/N.

______

Inbox is open!

[iamtheonethinginlifeicancontrol]

I have thoughts on this week's episode of Ranma 1/2 (ep 11)!

I thought that the re-framing that the anime did of Shampoo and Akane's match was very interesting. Choosing to have Akane lob a desk at Ranma and then have him hit in the head by a football (holy head trauma, Batman!) was such an interesting change to make! Ranma being unconscious for a minute or two before running off in search of Akane gave the match more time to occur, built more suspense, and gave Ranma himself more urgency in his search.

The rest of what I have to say contains spoilers (can we say this of a manga series that finished in 1996?) for the end of the manga, under the cut

I'm a die-hard 乱あ shipper and have been since I first read Ranma 1/2, so this episode delighted my little shipper heart. There are some small but significant deviations from the manga that I wanted to expand on, and one particular change that is narratively significant in light of manga canon.

Putting aside the issues of Shampoo's newer fixation on Ranma-as-male as her future husband per Amazonian law and how that impacts the dynamics of our tsundere couple in this ep, I'm choosing to focus on the scenes related to Akane's showdown with Shampoo and the changes that the anime made from the manga (and why I'm living for them).

As mentioned, the decision to knock Ranma unconscious is an interesting change to make, but I'd argue that it works well and was a well thought-out deviation from manga canon. As I said above, it gives the match more time to occur—whether that impacts the duration of time that the Xi Fa Xiang Gao technique takes is yet to be seen. It also builds suspense for the audience, especially in light of the younger generations/newer audience members who may be interacting with Ranma 1/2 for the first time. Most importantly, though, it gives urgency to Ranma's search for Akane that isn't quite there in the manga. Sure, he's worried as he runs after Shampoo and Akane after he gets delayed (by Akane slamming a window in his face lol), but the time that elapses between the two girls going off to fight and Ranma going after them is very short. Maybe 30 seconds, 60 at the very most. I'll include a panel below to illustrate this:

And of course, I'm not arguing that Ranma isn't worried about Akane or fearful that she'll get hurt. But there's a fairly significant difference in how this is portrayed (see below) versus how the anime chose to approach this.

For one thing, the framing is very different. Akane getting injured, while of real concern, is being shown in a humourous way; her facial expressions (like the swirly eyes) and Takahashi-san's characteristic "るーみっくサイン" (rumic sign) are used for comedy, to make it seem like any hurt Akane might incur won't be too serious. Plus, while Ranma does try to diffuse the tension after Akane grabs P-chan from the tray and gets the Kiss of Death for her trouble (lol Shampoo just gives those things out like party favours, doesn't she?), and tries to avert the fight between the two girls, the time that passes doesn't truly allow his concern to sharpen further. As seen above, Ranma's worried-but-determined. He's not flooded with anxiety (or particularly intrusive thoughts imo).

However, the anime chose to allow Ranma to actually lose consciousness at the beginning of the girls' match. We don't (and probably won't) know how long Ranma was actually unconscious, but it certainly was long enough to warrant his frantic search for Akane.

And frantic it is! This man starts running around the entire campus yelling her name, escalating to screeeeaming by the end. Please see below (subs are Akane's name [あかね] and onomatopoeia/sound effects for running and heavy breathing):

But don't worry, guys, he's super laid back, super chill. Jk just in these screenshots alone, he's calling/yelling her name 10 times.

Let's talk quickly about framing here! This is pretty starkly different from how the manga frames these scenes. The colouring is dark, the sky is cloudy, there's no lightheartedness to be seen, and Ranma's frantic and anxious, underscored by the, uh, musical scoring. The anime is treating this as Serious Business, which does make a lot of sense, given that Shampoo chased onna!Ranma all over China trying to kill him, and that experience is what's informing Ranma here. He has an interspersed imagination spot (see below) of Shampoo hitting Akane point blank in the chest with one of her chuí, and we see Akane exclaim in pain, fall to the ground, and remain motionless. He's panicking because he knows how dangerous Shampoo is, and he's afraid for Akane. He doesn't want her to get hurt; he wants to protect her wellbeing, especially because he's seen that she's less concerned with that than he thinks she should be. His insult from the skating arc makes another appearance here: he calls Akane "鈍い女" [nibui onna; slow/dull girl chick], which in his imagination looks like Akane leaving herself completely open for a sternal strike? But his anxiety is informing this mental image, so he's probably imagining a worst-case scenario. I'd hope that his opinion of Akane's capability would be higher, but I digress.

After he stops running about and screams Akane's name in desperation, he quickly hears Ryouga-as-P-chan's voice, he dashes toward the sound, finding Akane unconscious on the ground: fears confirmed!

And here's where, to me, it gets really interesting. We see that Ranma is calling Akane's name and cradling her in his arms; very different to this scene in the manga, where he's on his knees next to her, calling her name and saying, "hey, [untranslatable word that could best be read as] just..." (see below):

And in the anime, this becomes what I think must be an intentional reference to the end of the Saffron arc in the last volume of the manga (38). Ranma says the same thing in one of the last scenes of that story arc, cradling an unconscious Akane in his arms, calling her name, and begging her, "起きろよ、あかね" (okiro yo, Akane; wake up, Akane], among other things. See below for comparison of the manga (upper left-hand panel, specifically) vs the anime:

And here's episode 11's parallel:

Well, gee, what does Ranma screaming her name while holding her with tears in his eyes remind me of? I'm glad you asked! It's the next panel in the manga!

Spoilers, but really.

I've reached my pic limit on this post, so I can't compare and contrast much more, but I do have more to say on this parallel. Might make another post later, so that I can show more pics for illustration.

Whether I make that follow-up post or not, my immediate thought when I saw this in the episode was both that it was an intentional reference to Jusendō, and that it was intended to be the first of a pair of narrative bookends (i.e. recurring or similar scenes meant to refer & compare to one another within the narrative to illustrate something, whether character growth, story progression, relational changes, etc). If we do get the Full Ranma Series animated (may it please God), this is both foreshadowing and bookending, and I'm delighted by it!

Also, even if we don't get to see the Jusendō arc animated, Yamaguchi Kappei will have had the opportunity to play a version of that iconic scene from the manga and do his best "Akaneeeee!" scream.

[avelera]

I’m dying for your thoughts on what is going on in Dubai with the triangulation of Armand and Daniel in Dubai because nothing in 2.05 explain ms what they(beddeath vampires) could want him to tell them as referenced earlier in the season or warrant all the Rashid pageantry. Especially not with how Armand looks at Daniel like he just got home from the wars.

Your takes are exquisite and I’d love to hear them.

Ok, I THINK you're asking what the hell is going on with Daniel and Armand and Louis and the longing looks Armand keeps shooting Daniel and I might be missing some nuance to your question but that is the question I'm gonna answer because I can't stop thinking about it.

Ok. Ok, ok, SO!! The biggest question I think we're facing as of 2.05 is did the Devil's Minion chapter of Queen of the Damned ever happen?

For the uninitiated (LOTS of BOOK SPOILERS but like the books have been out for decades, sorry): Louis/Armand is like... not a thing. At least, it's not one of the big love affairs of the series compared to Louis/Lestat. I mean they've had a situationship but they're definitely not a long devoted love affair going right up to the beginning of the events of Vampire Lestat/Queen of the Damned, which is where the show seems to take place. They traveled together for a bit after the events of Interview with the Vampire but then parted ways because What Happened In Paris changed Louis irrevocably.

The big love of Armand's life in the books is Daniel.

And we learn this in the chapter of Queen of the Damned called the Devil's Minion.

Because Armand stumbles upon "The Interviewer" and falls in love and they have this fucked up whirlwind torrid romance where Daniel teaches Armand about the modern world and basically "how to be fascinating" and Daniel begs over and over to be made into a vampire.

Lots of stuff happens between them but short, TRAGIC version is that Armand does make Daniel into a vampire and it breaks Daniel's mind. He's not a cool powerful vampire once he's turned, he's basically a vegetable, he loses his mind and becomes a hollow husk of himself. (Ironically, insane-new-vampire!Daniel is left in the care of Marius of all people lol)

SO, from the book reader perspective, I shot upright on my couch when I saw old Daniel. Because Old Daniel means we're in... some flavor of happy AU? We're in an AU where Armand did the "responsible" thing and didn't give Daniel the Dark Gift, so Daniel got to grow old and actually be a person instead of being the Devil's Minion where Armand became his whole personality and then he lost his mind.

Thing is, since S1, I've been assuming, like others I think, that we're in an AU where the Devil's Minion didn't happen at all. That Daniel did the interview, he and Louis parted ways, and now he's back to finish it. It seemed neat, clear, if a little confusing for book fans because Daniel/Armand is one of THE great love affairs and it seems like it just got skipped entirely, which kind of makes sense since no other film version has really delved into it, right?

WRONG. OK, so with the longing looks that begin RIGHT when Armand finally reveals himself, the whole mic drop moment of "Armand, the love of my life" while Armand stares at Daniel, almost seeming to plead with his eyes "GET ME AWAY FROM HIM" and looking at Daniel with such longing, going into SEASON 2 where we learn that ok, the 1970s beat was WAY more complicated than it seems, Louis' memory is very faulty, Armand has actively tampered with both of them and we DON'T KNOW HOW MUCH....?

So my current theory is: the Devil's Minion DID happen.

Armand and Daniel had their love affair, but instead of turning Daniel, which by the way he had to be talked into doing because of Daniel's suicide attempt basically, Armand set him free. But CLEARLY he continued to stalk and pine after Daniel, if he was there at Daniel's fucking engagement reading his girlfriend's mind enough to tell Daniel what she was really thinking then. Armand was definitely still OBSESSIVELY IN LOVE. And, IMO, has been the whole time.

Now, what does this mean going forward? What do I think is going on?

Armand wants out of his relationship with Louis but he's chronically, pathologically, incapable of breaking up with anyone. He used Lestat to break up the Children of Darkness, he used Louis to break up the Theatre des Vampires, and now he's using Daniel to end this fucked up marriage he and Louis are in.

Armand is doing this first by consenting to renew the interview, Louis gets a walk down memory lane, remembers how much he loves Lestat. Not to solidify their bond with how good things are now, but to break it up with nostalgia.

Armand is also going to reveal things he's hidden from Louis, I think. Like the fact Armand killed Claudia. I think right now they're both operating under the excuse that Santiago and the coven did it in defiance of Armand but that is simply not true, Armand ordered her death to get Louis all to himself. But (book canon) her death broke Louis so basically Armand destroyed what he wanted in Louis in the gaining of him.

Armand also misses Daniel. He's doing the classic passive lover thing, using the next lover to get rid of the current one. That's why he picked Daniel specifically as the vehicle of his liberation. Boy wants to get white knighted in the most fucked up way possible. Evidence: every single painfully longing, puppy dog look he shoots Daniel's way and how those looks only get more intense the more Louis waxes poetic about how great the Loumand relationship is.

Armand appears as Rashid in order to establish for plausible deniability for Louis that he DIDN'T have a relationship with Daniel OR, if Louis knows about it, that he really did do as promised and wiped Daniel's mind. Look, Daniel doesn't even remember him! When he's standing right there! Pretending to be Rashid! He definitely didn't summon his former lover here to break up Louis and him, obviously this is JUST about Louis' desire to do the interview haha, definitely not trying to bring his old ex to break up his current relationship the guy doesn't even remember who he is.

In conclusion: Armand still wants to fuck that boy old man. And he wants to get rid of Louis by making Louis break up with him because that's how Armand rolls. And that's why this whole ridiculous pantomime is happening, because Armand will never, ever be the active party in the breakup because the boy is way, way too fucked up by his supremely fucked up life up to this point to ever be the initiator. Instead he will always, always manipulate those around him to do what he wants.

[skania]

OnK Chapter 152

Soooo as someone who reads this for Akane and for Akane only, I have to say that I'm feeling cautiously optimistic about her role in the upcoming arc.

We're entering the final arc and she has yet to get her second volume cover. If she doesn't get Volume 15 (and I'm praying she doesn't), then that should mean that whatever happens in the upcoming volumes (the final volumes!) will involve her enough to warrant saving her second cover to this late in the game.

We're entering the final arc and she just narrated the lead-up to it.

We're entering the final arc and it's happening right alongside the Second Season, which is the season that will cover most of Akane's important chapters. So if Aka wants to deliver parallels, then there's a lot of potential for Akane to be involved.

...Watch Mengo and Aka stick her on the cover of Volume 15 and call it a day 🤡 But for now, I'll keep praying that we get a Goro/Aqua cover so that Akane is free to be used in better volumes.

I don't have much to say about the chapter this time around. I think we all knew that Aka was getting ready to end the manga, so I for one was happy to see that we're entering the final arc. The sooner we're freed, the better!

It's hard to gauge how long this arc will be, but I'd bet on ~30 chapters plus an Epilogue Arc. Coincidentally, there are exactly 28 weeks left until Christmas. In the manga, they are in November right now and Kana's Graduation (the most important moment in the manga, apparently) will take place on Christmas. So I can totally see Aka wanting his fictional Christmas to happen during, well, Christmas.

If he does it, then we could be getting 3 more volumes worth of content plus 1 volume for the Epilogue. Maybe.

Or maybe he will try to rush it and end it even sooner so that whoever gets hurt gets hurt when the anime adapts Chapters 64 - 65. That would be so rushed even for his standards that it would be wild, but anything is possible when it comes to bad writing lmao

Leaving that aside, look at my girl.

I love her. I love her so much. She has got quite a few reasons to be making this face, IMO.

Ruby was able to find a peaceful way to have her revenge and is thus ready to start healing, and the answer she found is healing those around her, too. Like Gotanda and Kaburagi.

Ai's heart was presumably portrayed in an accurate fashion, which is sure to pull at her hearstrings.

And considering that Aqua was the one who edited the movie, I think it says something about his current disposition that he respected Ruby's take and left the movie as it is, so that may be giving Akane another reason to smile.

Speaking about Gotanda and Kaburagi, I feel like their conversation foreshadows a lot of what this final arc will be dealing with.

Making amends, overcoming regrets and moving towards the future...

... people lying to themselves and "bottling themselves up"...

yet still holding out onto hope, deep down, of being able to fulfill the dreams that they have been denying themselves of all along.

This comment in particularly reminded me so much of Aqua lol

Which takes me to: Aka's writing is so clumsy that his star changing colors every other chapter comes across as flip-flopping 😂

Back when his stars briefly became white only to turn black again, it served a purpose. It showed that while Ruby's words pacified the "Goro" side of him, he hadn't fully healed yet. If Aqua having his white star again is meant to signify that Kana's words managed to pacify the "Aqua" side of him, then... why in the world didn't we see his eyes go white last chapter? 🤡 If Kana is the reason why Aqua seems to have hopes for the future now, why not show it?

For my own sanity, I have to believe something happened in the time-skip. Maybe editing the movie was actually cathartic or something, who knows. I'm not even going to theorize anything about this, because the writing is giving me whiplash lmao so I'm just going to take a moment to point out that while Mengo took the time to give Aqua the haircut he is supposed to have here as per the prologue, she left out the piercing.

And I find that kind of funny, honestly, that this is where Aka seemingly draws the line. With all the stuff that Aka off-panels, Aqua getting a random piercing off-panel wouldn't have been shocking at all 😂

Another thing I found funny:

How many times does Aka need to repeat the same thing? Does he think our attention span is that short? 😭 Not to mention these words feel empty right now because he just went on a data with Kana with zero issue. Apparently, for Aka keeping his distance is only a thing if it involves making sure Aqua interacts with Akane as little as possible lmao

Oh, right!

How could I forget the big twist!

Wake me up when Kamiki interviews Akane 😂

[heliads]

Hi! Congrats on 10k, that is incredible! Can I request a 💌 from the Darkling? I'm a hospital pharmacy technician. I'm loyal to a fault, stubborn, feisty, and I find I care a lot. Even about people I don't know. I spend my free time either reading, writing, or gaming. I prefer the cold over the heat. Ummm I can't think of anything else lol hopefully this is enough! If not, let me know and I'll try again 🥰

thank you so much!

masterlist

Moonlight dapples the grounds of the Little Palace as you stroll through the darkened paths of the surrounding gardens. You’ve just emerged from a long session in the medical rooms of the Grisha; as one of Ravka’s best Healers, you’re constantly kept busy. It’s good to be needed, but it’s also good to be alone, for once, allowed to breathe deeply and let the stress of the day fade away the farther you walk.

As it turns out, you won’t be able to take some time to yourself after all. At the end of the garden path, shadows under a sturdy oak coalesce into a dark-robed man who strides out to greet you. Were you any other Grisha operating under the fine roofs of the Little Palace, the sight of the Darkling on a night like this would startle you. However, he’s grown on you since you first arrived in Os Alta, and you find yourself more willing to let your guard down around him than expected.

Indeed, it seems the Darkling feels the same way. He turns to walk by your side, letting out a dry chuckle as he does. “You know, every other exhausted Grisha is currently seeking refuge in front of a roaring fire, yet here I find you purposefully keeping yourself out in the cold.”

You smile. “I like the cold, moi soverenyi.”

“And it likes you,” the Darkling muses. “I cannot blame you for seeking peace beyond the walls of the Little Palace. I value all of the souls in the Second Army, but it does grow quite busy, does it not?”

“It does,” you agree. “Still, I’ve grown fond of how busy our halls can be. Our soldiers are good people.”

“Just our soldiers?” The Darkling asks. He keeps pace perfectly, as if he had made your every movement the primary focus of his studies.

“Some more than others,” you admit.

It’s too dark to see clearly, but you swear the Darkling’s quartz eyes flash with something you cannot name. “Oh? Which ones?”

You smile to yourself, deliberately savoring the silence over a few steps before you reveal yourself. “Perhaps the ones I walk with, late at night. Do you think they’re to be trusted?”

Something distinctly like triumph appears on the Darkling’s face. “I do. You had better keep them close, however, so you can determine if that trust is warranted.”

“That,” you drawl, “is exactly what I plan on doing.”

Overhead, the stars wheel through the sky. On the moonlit ground, the Darkling leads you further into the gardens. It has been a long day, but at last, you have peace.

requested by @mattmurdocksscars, i hope you enjoy!

grishaverse tag list: @blondsauduun, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @retvenkos, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggie2000, @baju69, @crazyhearttragedy, @budugu, @aoi-targaryen, @a-taken-url

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[overly-verbose]

*Crawls out of shadows*

Uhhh, hi.

I really like your fic. I'm not much of a socializer and tend to lurk more than anything. But I really wanted to share something, which is rare for me but this warranted it 100%.

Your fic has been in my brain since I read it and while I was out in the wild I heard a song that screamed SIkuna so much to me, that it left my brain just reeling from all the THOUGTS and VISIONS the song slammed on me. The song just felt so much like it was from SIkuna's POV I was just stunned, I had heard the song before but hearing it after reading your fic just kinda rewired my brain with the happy chemicals.

And as if that wasn't enough, not so long after I heard another song that this time seemed to come from the POVs of both SIkuna and the outside POVs of the others facing the Eldritch filter.

Both songs were from Imagine Dragons: The first was Demons and the second was Believer.

I was just going about my day and suddenly got attacked by pure awesomeness out of nowhere and is greatly in part thanks to your fic. So, I just wanted to share the songs so they could perhaps brighten your day as much as your fic lights up mine.

*sees you crawling out of the shadows*

Hi! :DDD

First of all, thank you kindly for saying all those wonderfully nice things about the fic!! No matter how many times I may hear something similar, I am absolutely overjoyed, truly 🤗🤗🤗🥺

I'm so glad to hear you're enjoying the story!! :DDDD

The happy chemicals!!! Wooo yeah!!! :DDD

Second of all, woahh - you're absolutely right!!! It really, really fits!!! :DDD

By the holy macaroni, does it fit!!!

Poor SIkuna, he tries so hard to deny it but he really does have quite a bit of demons to grapple with under it all - and the last thing he'd want is for the kids to get hurt by them

(or rather, him; since the 'demons' in question are just part of him you know)

Aaaaa, this is so sadd 😭 (in a good way!! I've known the song for years but didn't even Think about it, thank you for bringing up the connection to me!! :DDD)

And Believer is also a very cool idea haha, poor everyone having to deal with SIkuna, huh? But someday, someday they'll realise that there's no need to be wary, or preparing for Something to go wrong! (At least not in terms of SIkuna haha :D)

Something I've also noticed fitting kinda nicely, in terms of SIkuna's self-sabotaging tendencies in terms of choosing to not show his affection and making himself look in a bad light on purpose sometimes (to protect everyone in terms of a possible-in-his-mind future in which he 'returns' to being just OGkuna and using that trust), is "Iodine" by Icon For Hire 🤔 (it's a very different Vibe though 😂)

Or, I've mentioned this before, but "Ruthlessness" from Epic: The Musical - in some ways lol, less about the rage itself but the likeliness to feel horribly wrathful and likely wanting revenge over someone *hurting the kids*, you know

(There's likely some more that fit as well but I can't recall them at the moment haha)

Thank you for the Ask haha, I definitely understand wanting to be a bit of a lurker (nothing wrong with it if you're not up for interaction haha), but I greatly appreciate you sharing your thoughts! :DDD

My day has certainly been brightnened!! :DDD

[tmwcs]

Reina this has been on my mind ever since I read the seven series what is your story or explanation of the Devil having heeeeungs appearance like as in appearing as a Korean man along with his brothers. I’ve always been curious about that and I am dying to hear what your thoughts are on it. I love seven so much and heelel and Levi have me on my knees. 🤒🥴

Actually, this is something I’ve thought about ever since I drafted the series. Your curiosity is warranted, back when I initially drafted the storyline, I knew I was going to have to provide an explanation, and I am happy to do it now, and take a break from all these lovely requests in my inbox lol.

Shape of You

Warnings: short Drabble, canon, historical references (some factual and some fiction), yandere love, some dark concepts, devil Heeseung is in love with you, some fluff, hints of smutty things.

“Can I ask you a question?”

You lean back, relaxing the blades of your shoulders against his broad chest. His partially gloved hand swoops from behind and plays with your hair over collar bone. His black blouse remains unbuttoned, allowing you to fall into the soft, white long sleeve and the loose tie around his neck. “Mmhmm.” He hums out tenderly as his hand taps against your belly; tips of his fingers walking up and down, trailing the northern and southern borders of your abdominal canvas. The both of you enjoying a moment of leisure, relaxing on his throne and gazing up at the stars. It was moments such as this, that made you realize the devil truly meant it when he says that you are everything, and that he loves you more than anything.

“Do you purposely portray yourself as an Asian male or is that truly how you were created?”

You were blunt, which he always preferred. He always reassured you that he would be truthful, and that you never had to feel discomfort when asking him anything your mind yearns to inherit. Tilting his face to the side, he admires the depth of your side profile and kisses the center of your ear, gently whispering.

“What makes you think I would portray myself as anything other than what is the truth?”

He partially jests as he chuckles against your ear canal. One of the gestures he was fond of doing, because he knew it tickled yet brought a pleasurable sense inside you. “It’s just—ah…” a subtle gasp escapes your lips as he slowly licks your neck, pushing the tip of his nose into your ear as he gently nibbles your jawline. “Mmhmm…you were saying, baby?” He antagonizes as he keeps his oral movements going, encouraging for you to finish your statement.

“Before you brought me here…you know, all those churches in the world talked about how the devil would shapeshift and deceive people…so I just…didn’t know if y-you…were really showing…y-your trrrrrue—ah!”

You help as he picks up the pace and sucks in your skin, harshly pinching it between teeth as he leaves discoloration and a subtle bite mark. Meanwhile his hand slips into the high slit of your silky gown, taking advantage of the fact that he never allowed you to eat panties, and began probing your slit. You desperately slap your hands on his forearms as you stabilize your posture. He chuckles in seeing you struggle as you lean away a tad, just so you could get him to answer the question without fondling you the entire time.

His chuckling transfers to a deep sigh of ceasefire, amused by your gasping for air as you propped yourself high and straight, yet your derrière looked even more appealing as it plumps against his throbbing bulge. But he figured he owed you an answer…for now.

“What else did the Bible tell you? Hmm? Did it tell you how bad the devil was? That I violated maidens and killed off Gods angels?” He releases a laconic scoff. “What a joke.”

“S-so…it’s all not true?” You inquired as you finally composed your breathing, and felt safe enough to lean back once more, which he relished and expressed contentment by embracing your waist, interlocking his fingers around your bellybutton. Unbeknownst to you, he really was doing his best to behave and display some self restraint as he continued to answer.

“Well beautiful, there’s a lot that goes into it. But let’s just say that a lot of the things that were drafted about me were over exaggerated, or drafted untruthfully, all for the mere sake of installing fear—fear to control.” He takes your hand in his palm and tenderly enclosed it. “But that’s a conversation for another time.” He whispered against your cheek.

“As for your question, this is how I was brought into life.”

“Any particular reason why you were made to specifically look and speak Korean?”

He smirks. “Well, truth be told, my former master loves diversity. Before he created mortals, he used his angels to form a baseline on what he wanted humans to replicate. There are many that come in all varieties. It just so happens my brothers and I all came out reflecting an oriental appearance. As for the language well, you already know we speak all dialects, even the lost ancient ones.”

Whispering in Arabic, he professes sweet words of love and tenderness in the language. “See? And now that you you’re my wife, you understand and speak all that of which exists.”

It’s true. The moment he brought you back to life as his Queen, you inherited a wide list of inhuman abilities, one of them was the suddenness of speaking and understanding all languages.

You spoke back in ancient Egyptian dialect, responding subtly. He smiles. “Good girl.”

“So, did he create all his other angels the same way?” He leans his head back, resting it against the grand head rest of the throne as he gazes and admires the outline of your profile. “Some. Some do them took after the fair skinned with hair and eyes to match, while others came out bolder and exotic in appearance. Michael, for instance, was created with a Mediterranean appearance, contrary to what mortals would imagine.”

“The arch angel Michael?” You asked in shock. He nods.

“My former master had an idea of how he wanted humans to become, but really couldn’t think of any other way to form their appearance. So he used his angels and guide.”

“But I thought the Bible described angels to appear differently…it described them as nonhuman entities, just a large eye with six wings that rotated.”

He smirks upon your oblivious nature. He has so much to teach you. “The original angels, such as myself, served as the original draft of what humans should take after. Those created after are nothing like us…you remember.” He raises a brow as he takes an expectant tone. You do remember those humanoid metallic figures, whom appeared more monstrous than anything else.

“Why don’t we take a walk and talk about all that’s in your mind. Whatever questions you have, we can spend the day feeding your curiosity…” he grips your waist and gently lifts you, only to slowly drag you back down and ride your slit against his lengthy bulge. “In a little while…hm baby?”

You fling your head back over his shoulder. “Uh…uh-huh.”

Moving you back and forth, he forced you to take on a riding momentum as he sets the pace; his hands never losing grip along your waistline. Your hands slam on the elegant rails of the arm chair. You didn’t care what they landed on, you just needed something to grip and dig your fingers into. “Fuuuuuuuck yeeeeeeah.” He whispers against your ear, dragging out his tone to be deep and creaky as he continued to move your hips in waving motion.

“Relax baby, I’ll tell you whatever you wanna hear…I’ll answer all of your questions…just let me fuck you first.

It’s too bad your mind went entirely blank. By the time he was finished with you, you were senselessly incoherent and just a moaning mess, fucked too dumb to think of anything other than the soreness of your opening struggling to close after the constant thrusting, and the juices flowing out, stringing your thighs. When all was said and done, nearly hours after the initial conversation, the only lesson you learned from all of this was that you should never show the devil how curious you can get….because he’ll get curious right back. And the devil doesn’t sleep, until his curiosity is no longer peaked.

- Fin

[tyxaar-fics]

I wrote a thing vaguely based on Scar’s tweets recounting Grian’s fishing addiction lol.

Fishing spot

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: GoodTimesWithScar & Cubfan135, Grian & GoodTimesWithScar, Cubfan135 & Grian Characters: GoodTimesWithScar, Grian, Cubfan135

If there was anyone who knew what being possessed looked like, it was Hermitcraft's resident Vex population.

"He's still at it, still fishing."

Scar adjusted his binoculars from his perch atop Magic Mountain, eying up where his friend stood unmoving by the inlet. He'd been at it for weeks now, the last break Grian took was to build a little pier space for more fishing, and it was around that point that his suspicions got strong enough to warrant a proper investigation. So, he called in Cub for company.

"That makes it... three days at this point, three days of fishing without breaks. No sleeping, either." Cub muttered as he made a note in a little chart they were putting together. Scar didn't think it was needed, but a record didn't hurt he supposed.

Grian pulled in something, a salmon? Certainly a fish of some kind, and dumped it in a barrel before throwing his cast again. Some of their friends occasionally joined him in his fishing, (Gem seemed strangely into it as well, something else to investigate.) but other than that, everyone was running around, making traps, mining, and were just generally too busy feeling the high of a new world to really notice just how strange and off-seeming Grian was being. Even when he wasn't fishing, he seemed to itch to go back to it, a weird pull towards the ocean. He always carried his rod and tackle box around now.

Scar put the binoculars down and rubbed his eyes, he probably shouldn't stare through them for so long, but this was fascinating.

"I told you Cub, he's possessed! Do you think whatever's got him is also behind Big Salmon?"

That got an eyeroll out of his friend. "Nah man that’s just a joke that got out of hand." 

"Well, that’s just what Big Salmon wants you to think."

Cub chuckled slightly at the comeback, leaning back on the grassy cliff.

"That's some definite possession right there though. He seems to have some partial control in more lucid moments, but the ocean’s got him good."

Scar blew a cherry petal from his nose and flopped down on the grass as well. 

"I told you the fishing wasn't normal. You know Cub, I'm surprised you're not trying to get your claws on whatever's got theirs in Grian given your track record.”

As they chatted absentmindedly on the mountaintop, it occurred to Scar that anyone else would probably be taking the situation more seriously. After all, a friend of theirs had been possessed by some strange entity binding him to the ocean and it clearly didn't care about Grian's wellbeing, given that he hadn't slept in three days and only ate raw fish. Every part of this should be concerning.

But, Scar and Cub were exactly the wrong people to get concerned. After all, it'd been years since their Pact with the Vex and those first couple times waking up 500 blocks from their beds and panicking, and the feeling of giving in to the Hunger when it got too much… It was old news, that. The Convex were intimately familiar with the feeling of drifting to the back of your head and letting something else take your body and mind for itself, as well as the strange empty euphoria that came with it. Eventually, they just... got used to being possessed every now and again. It was just how life came and went now. Perhaps it was why Scar so eagerly gave in to the Boogey curse and red haze when they came during the games.

"Fishing is fun, but I’m good. I also don’t think the Vex would like me to be taken by the ocean." Cub gave another eyeroll and went back to reading through their Grian fishing notes again.

There was an argument to be made that his fellow Vex had gotten addicted to it, the feeling of being possessed. He denied it, but Scar knew better than most. After all, he seemed positively eager to let himself be taken by the Skulk, the infection spreading and taking root far quicker than one would expect. And a similar situation also happened with the Pharaoh. Not even mentioning that when Demise came both times Cub went overboard, he gave in to the violence and the traps. Scar could practically feel the buzzing bloodied magic wrapping its claws around his friend's mind.

Regardless, this wasn’t them this time, it was Grian. He was new to the whole thing. Scar frowned slightly and sat back up to take another look at his angler friend.

”Do you think we should be more worried?”

”Hm?” Cub paused his note-taking to glance over.

“Do you think we should be worried that Grian’s possessed?” He waved towards the pier, where Grian was busy reeling in a particularly stubborn catch. ”I mean, it doesn’t seem to be taking good care of his body.”

Cub seemed to take some pause and consider that fact, staring at Grian for a few seconds. “Uuh maybe? I dunno how worried we should be, Scar. If he gets that enchantment he wants and doesn’t stop the fishing it might be good to intervene.”

He gave a nod in agreement. ”Sounds like a plan.”

Scar then flopped back down on the cherry-scattered grass, letting the sun dance through the petals falling on his face and taking in the soft evening light. Cub and him would continue their watch from from atop the cliff and keep an eye on any developments for a while. Although, now seemed like a perfect time for a nap amongst the blossoms.

After all, it’s rude to try and take away what something else had claimed for itself. The ocean could keep Grian for now.

[sweet-demiboi]

Billy Hargrove x Russian!Male!Reader

Part 3 (pt. 1 and 2 on my masterlist -> making Billy question his sexuality)

Warnings: the word slut is used, but not in a degrading way, also Billy is maybe a little OOC because he's really happy (lol, poor guy), there is no reference to smut, Billy only puts his hands on your ass while making out (because it's hot okay), so it could be read as asexual (depends on what you're comfortable with) and poc, Ig, also you have two moms because I said so, you and Billy are smoking together (again), there's one mention of your hair being long enough to tie it

Summary: You and Billy have your first date at an Italian place. You connect over various topics.

Needless to say, you were all fidgety in your last class (physics, another one of your absolute favorites). You weren't used to your own behavior at all - never had you ever felt such excitement before. Sure, you had been excidetly waiting for school to end so you could make out with a cute boy behind a police station (for the extra-excitement). But you had never had an actual date before. So, there was your perfect reason for playing around with your pencils, wobbling your knee and looking at the clock every five minutes.

The bubbly feeling inside your stomach only grew stronger with the more time that passed, and you happened to be the first to make your way out of that goddamn classroom. You didn't exactly run down the hallways but you were walking noticeably faster than everyone else you crossed ways with, which made you remind yourself to stay cool.

You rounded a corner and found yourself to be standing in front of one of the mirrors in the boys' bathroom. You tied your hair to a small ponytail, you had always liked that. Next, you washed your face with some cold water and also refilled your waterbottle. You took a few gulps to calm yourself and also: hygenie. Then you made your way down to the car park, where you assumed Billy to be waiting for you.

You had been right. There he was, leaning against his camaro, cigarette between his lips - you thought of him to be incredibly sexy in that particular moment.

"Thought you had forgotten it already", Billy greeted you. You could see how some of the tension left his posture when he had seen you walking closer.

"Would never forget a boy with such a nice ass", you smiled at him, he grunted but couldn't hide the small smirk settling onto his lips.

"Sorry, I'm late", you apologised, just to make sure he wouldn't feel bad or forgotten or something like that.

"No problem", he mumbled and gestured for you to get inside his car, which was an offer you gladly took. It smelled like smoke and leather inside there - you weren't opposed to that circumstance.

"You will have to pick where we eat. I don't know the city that well, yet", Billy started the engine. Immediately there was some metal music playing, you weren't bothered by it, just didn't expect to know any songs.

Your backpack sat on your lap. Some of the students outside looked weirdly at the two of you, but you decided to not be bothered by it.

"If you can even call it that. 's basically nothing more than one big street", Billy huffed "There's only one place worth going to"

You looked at him expectantly "For pizza", he said "It's nothing big" - "I love pizza", you answered "Really? What's your order?", you shrugged "Nothing in particular. Mostly I let the staff surprise me. How about you?"

"Funghi", he answered "Mushrooms on pizza is a must." - "We could argue about that", you answered "Or you could walk", Billy smirked, his look to the side meant he wasn't serious, he wouldn't actually throw you out.

"I know that song!", you cheered when Cherry pie by Warrant came on. Billy chuckled and you both sang along to the lyrics. It didn't sound good at all, but neither of you cared, which made the situation a whole lot more comfortable.

"Didn't think you'd like any of my music", Billy admitted when the song was over "Just don't know most of the songs", you replied "But I like your tapes" He smiled at that "Are you not used to people liking it?", you asked, confused. "Nah, not really", Billy shrugged "'s fine though - people I don't care about aren't sitting in my car" You chuckled at that. "So, you like me" - "Maybe" In this particular moment Billy could've almost been described as playful.

You continued your banter and eventually trailed off to other topics, like your homecountries California and Russia. You didn't even notice at first when Billy stopped the engine in front of a restaurant.

"We're here" - "Oh, that was quick", Billy locked the car and then showed you the way inside. It smelled like tomato sauce, wine and bread - a very comforting smell for you, you were used to it as your moms had taken you out to an Italian place every second sunday. It was one of the few places for queer people, the government didn't know about it, so its prices had been horrendous but you had still loved it there every single time.

When you were seated, Billy looked at you smugly "So", he let his eyes wander over the upper part of your body slowly and delicately, taking his time in admiring you "Tell me something about you, pretty boy, that's what dates are for."

"As you know I'm from Russia. It's cold there and the people aren't particularily nice. Uhm, it's very different than from here, but I never had a date there.", you showed a small smile "So, that's a point for America."

You ordered you drinks and food at the same time, so you couldn't make sure if Billy actually blushed again or if it was just the lighting. "How about you?"

"I'm from Cali. Obviously, you already know that. It was much nicer there than here - warm climate, more real friends, the beach... I could go on definetly, but the only point for Hawkins would still only be you."

You definetly blushed when he said that, which made Billy smirk "Wow, that's really cute. Tell me more about California." The following stories made Billy's eyes shine brightly, he started subconciously gesturing with his hands and there was a smile following every sentence of his. You swore, you could've listened to him and stared at him until the restaurant closed.

"So, you want to go back when you're done with school?", you asked, he nodded, the pizza was put before you (Funghi for him and veggies for you) "It's the only place where I want to go. This here is no home for me" - "For me neither", you smiled bitterly at him "Then what made you leave?"

"Several things. Shitty government, climate, homophobia, my mom got a job offer... so, we're here now." - "Do you want to go back to Russia when you're done with school?"

You shrugged. That was a good question "Don't know yet, I guess." Billy only nodded "I would like to get to know California though. Sounds really nice from your stories"

He smiled at you "We could go there in the holidays if we can afford it."

"I could pay gas money. Would get enough if I got a job." - "I have friends over there we could sleep at theirs." - "And a wonderful roadtrip through America", both your eyes were glowing with joy now, and you continued planning the trip for the whole dinner.

You were done with your pizzas when it got dark outside and asked the waitress for dessert. she served you some cherry pie, which you shared, grinning. "Deal?", you asked "Going on that trip in the holidays?" Billy smirked "Deal" You high-fived across the table and went on to pay.

When you stepped out of the restaurant, it was chilly and wind blew around the corners of the small city. "Do you have any cigarettes?", you asked "Mhm", Billy gave you one, your fingertips brushed briefly over the other's, making you grin.

He didn't look away from your eyes when lighting the cigarette between your lips, making his eyes glimmer with the reflection of the flame. "Thanks", you whispered and were mad at society for not being able to kiss him right here. There were still some people who could see you.

Billy took a drag from his own cigarette now "I had a really nice evening" - "Me too" - "To be honest, I can't remember when I laughed so much in one day", you smiled at him sympathetically "I'd kiss you right now if I could" - "I'd kiss back" You smiled at each other in comfortable silence and got back into the car when you were done with smoking.

You directed him to where your house was, metal in the background of your conversations. "Can you stop here?", you asked "'course", Billy parked the camaro at the side of the street and turned your way.

He couldn't even catch the look in your eyes, because you had already leaned over and kissed him. Your hand was in his locks, the other supported your body weight, so you wouldn't fall onto him. Billy though pulled you closer intentionally, which made you squeak and fall onto his chest "Jerk", was the only thing you could say, as in the next moment he pulled you in again. For the first time in your life, the slight taste of mushrooms wasn't bad.

You let his tongue lick over yours, his hands on your back and ass, sliding in your back pocket. Your own fingers messed up his hair, not caring. Billy did either not mind or not notice, because he couldn't think about anything else except kissing you. Your breath hit each other's wet lips when you parted, only millimeters apart.

"There's something I wanted to ask you", you confirmed "What's it?", Billy had a smirk taking over his features slowly. "Do you want to be my... ugh, I don't know what it's called.. slut?"

You knew it was called boyfriend. You definetly knew. And Billy knew that too.

"Yeah, I wanna be your slut."

You both chuckled when you went in for another deep kiss, again, filled with tongue and wet sounds, touches all over your bodies and skin contact making you lose your mind.

"So", Billy's hair was ruffled up and he looked absolutely gorgeous "Do you want to be my slut?" - "I definetly do", you answered, sealing it with a last kiss before you got out of the car. You smirked at him and waved him goodbye when Billy drove past you, he had the biggest grin on the lips and threw you another kiss.

The butterflies in your stomach went completely feral by now, making you smile and giggle like an idiot. Billy Hargrove was your boyfriend and you were his. You hadn't known that you could want that. But now, you were really happy and Hawkin's one point leveled up to more than Russia ever had.

[lemotmo]

https://x.com/belovediaz/status/1870922507827433906

I hate to say it but

I agree with this. Like don’t get me wrong I’m beyond happy to finally have peace from that fandom but beyond that the 911 fandom is pretty dead. I don’t know if it was just with the early mid season cut off throwing their plan off or them thinking the buddie of it all at the end of 8.9 would be enough for them to just rest on their laurels to get through the hiatus or a combo of the two, but they did not do a good job planning wise to make sure anyone was still actually talking about the show till it comes back in march.

Like last year even with the short season during the hiatus between 7.5 and 7.6 there was sooo much to talk about and speculate about and multiple interviews coming out and just engaging content and promo galore the entire time. Not to mention the ending of 7.5 with buddie walking into the wedding looking such a mess was enough on its own to warrant engagement.

This time not so much. The ending was momentarily freak out worthy sure. And caused some speculation on the is Buck figuring it out finally? But once again it was still ultimately to ambiguous to really solidify anything to warrant long term engagement because they as usual left multiple non romantic options open in ways to interpret bucks entire facial reaction after Eddie dropped his bomb. (Not to mention we’ve also been here before with the Eddie leaving storyline ) add in the cast vanishing into the night for the holidays so any engagement or sightings from them is next to none (which totally fine and they more then deserve the relax time) and it’s just been a perfect storm of bad management handling right before a long hiatus.

Though I will say whenever they ( they being the PR team not the cast lol) decide to wake up and be like oh huh no one’s actually paying any attention to this show for the last 3 and a half months and we have renewals coming up guess we better start actually doing things to generate a buzz, I’m very curious to see what they have in store for us to keep everyone engaged again lol.

Meh-- hiatus is always long and boring in my opinion Nonny. I have gone through a lot of them by now and they've all been waaaay too long. Keep in mind that the hiatus between 7.05 and 7.06 was waaaay shorter than this one and it would be pretty hard to top Buck coming out as bisexual.

Next to that this hiatus also has the holidays in between them. This is a time when people are busy and they don't have that much time to spend in fandom spaces.

I think they ended 8a in a good place for us. BT has broken up, we can all see the Buddie coming from miles away and we have gotten an exciting first look at season 8b. Personally, I'm not complaining at all.

Fandom engagement will pick up again once they start filming in January and it will be as if they never left.

I am enjoying this hiatus immensely, I have to admit it. I have been reading great fic and I got struck with inspiration for a fic of my own. So for the last week I have been doing nothing but write, write, write. 😋 I'm having a blast.

[streakyglasses]

hiii❤️are you taking requests for the dialogue injury prompts? if so, i’d love anything for #7 or #11! i would honesty read any of them because hurt/comfort is my bread and butter lol. anyway, i LOVE your writing and get so excited when you post — tysm!

hello! yes, I sure am 🩵🩵 I went with #7! I can’t say why (I fully think I just missed that you also put #11, but maybe 👀👀). it’s also so my bread & butter so thank you for all your kind words! I hope this is everything you’re looking for! it’ll be up on ao3/ffn soon(ish).

prompt from @promptsbytaurie

building collapse, major injuries, no mcd, hurt/comfort, super worried street. set anytime like S3 onward.

The building isn’t supposed to collapse. It’s just a normal, quick assignment on a normal Tuesday. Chris and Street are just there to verify an alibi before they go back and execute a search warrant. Easy. Simple. Benign. 

Until the ground starts shaking beneath their feet. They share a look, and instinct sends him running to the right while she banks left and tries to make it under a desk. 

She doesn’t make it, and only barely registers the crushing pain in her arm and ankle as the world goes black.  ———————————————————————

“Chris?! Chris!” A voice calls. Her eyes are lead, unrelenting to any attempt to open them, and dust sticks in her lungs like ash whenever she tries to pull in a breath. A groan escapes, turning into a cough that makes her gasp for more air.

And then she tries to move. Agony shoots through her worse than a bullet, her eyes shooting open to survey her position. To see why she can’t move. Fear gets her lungs in a vice grip as blurry vision and a pounding head struggle to focus on where she is or what’s happening. It’s dark, and cold seeps through her back from the ground. 

Wiggle your toes. A voice in her mind says. Whimpering as her neurons slog the signal down through her limbs, she manages on her right foot, but finds only a static tingling sensation in her left. Her body tries again to sit upwards, fast enough to make her head spin and with enough force to barely move whatever she realizes is pinned on top of her shoulder before it sends her crashing back down, seeing stars. 

She’s trapped. Stuck on her back like a bug in a dark, echoing void. Nowhere to go and at the mercy of the shaky air pocket above her. Questions flood her mind: what happened? what has her pinned? How long has she been stuck? Is Street safe? 

A new fear rushes over her at the realization that he could be stuck like her, or worse, and the first tear escapes in her panic. Fight or flight strains against her bones and skin like lightning cracking in a bottle, but just like the lightning, it can’t escape. She finds herself unable to take a deep breath, much less call for help. 

“Chris?!” They call again, her eyes opening and a whimper escaping as the noises from above are thunderous to her own ears. “Chris, can you hear me? I need you to call out if you can! It’s Street!”

Street! Her heart settles for half a second, giving her the air and courage she needs to open her mouth. The words come out hoarse and broken, but as loud as she can manage. 

“Over here!”

The effort exhausts her, but she refuses to close her eyes now that she knows he’s alive. His heavy footsteps still make her flinch as they stop right above her, his body weight making what’s left of the floor creak.

“Chris!” He calls again, and he sounds so much closer this time. Above her, he finds a small break in the rubble, and gets himself to it as close as he can. “Hey, it’s me. Are you okay?” 

“What happened?” She fires back with all the false calm she can. Her shoulder is on fire, her ankle not far behind, and the impulse to move away feels like ripping herself in half. His words come to her like she’s underwater. 

“Building came down. It looks like an isolated incident, not a quake, so it was planned. Are you okay?” He repeats, barely containing his own worry that flared the second he realized he couldn’t see her and has yet to truly ease. Not until they’re both back above ground. 

“I’m pinned.”

Her voice is small. Thick with tears and higher-pitched than he’s ever heard it, and followed by a worrisome cough and too fast breathing. The words make his heart stop. 

Recovering, a voice in his head demands that he keep his cool for her sake. Later, he’ll thank it, and now, he’s too freaked out to even question his intuition. 

“Okay,” Street acknowledges her. “It’s been about ten minutes; help is on the way. Did you lose consciousness?” 

His voice is so steady and so clear, it almost convinces her she isn’t in imminent danger of being crushed. She nods, and then realizes he can’t see her.

“Y—yeah. I don’t know how long.” 

“That’s okay!” He’s quick to reassure her. Parsing through his mind for only the most crucial questions, he wishes more than anything he could see her face. 

“I need you to tell me a couple things, okay? I’m going to be right here, and we’re gonna get you out of there. What’s pinned, Chris?” 

“My arm,” she gets out through grit teeth, a burning licking up her side. “And above my ankle. Left side.” 

“Shit,” he mumbles under his breath. As gingerly as possible, he starts to move the smaller pieces of rubble that he can without jeopardizing the rest. He needs to get her out. 

“You’ve got air! That’s good.” Again, she nods, although she knows his voice and he hears the tension in it. Her free hand grasps for anything, but she’s painfully alone. Knowing his presence is above her is her only lifeline.

“Are you bleeding?” 

“I—“ Coughing, Chris realizes she doesn’t know. The thought of touching hot blood makes her sick, but she knows he wouldn’t ask if he thought it would hurt her. Slowly, she traces over the parts of her body she can reach, feeling only dust and debris. “No.” 

“Good,” he sounds relieved. “You’re doing great, Chris. Help is almost here. I’m going to try to move some of these pieces.”

“O—okay.” 

The world fades in and out around her. Every time anything shifts above her, concrete dragging against concrete, her heart jumps and she knows she’s shaking harder than she can control. It all starts to go dark, and the energy to fight it has leached from her.

“Street?” She calls, sounding weak to her own ears as tears impede her. “Street?” 

He’s in a daze as he moves as fast as he can, willing help to reach them faster. When he hears her call him, he practically jumps back to the small gap he can press his ear against. 

“Hey, I’m right here.” 

“Street,” she starts, breathing labored as each word stretches like muscle to reach him. They’re interrupted by sniffles and grunts of pain from every centimeter her body moves. “It—I’m cold.” 

His body freezes while his mind races. Shock. Blood loss. Both. There’s too many unknowns and he starts to work faster, uncaring as cement cuts into his hands and builds dirt under his nails. 

“It’s okay!” He says, but he sounds manic to his own ears. “Hang in there, help is almost here and we’re gonna get you out of there, Chris.”

Something shifts. Dust rains down on her as she can’t hold back her yelp of fear. A beam drops, stopping just a few inches from her face The building settles quickly but the last grips she had on herself are shaken lose. Tears start flowing freely, leaving a track in the grime covering her face. 

“If I don’t… t—tell my fam—family I’m sorry. The team.” 

“No!” Street shouts. Maybe the edge in his voice will be enough to bring her back. Maybe it’ll make her angry enough to focus her attention on him instead of the horror around her. “No, stop. Stop talking like that, you’re gonna be fine.” 

“Street…” 

“Alonso. Listen to me. I’m right here, and I’m not leaving you until you’re safely out of there. I’ll will it into existence if I have to. You are not dying. Trust me. Keep listening to my voice.” 

Her vocal chords refuse to form words, a whimper coming out instead. It’s something, it’s all he has, so Street holds onto it with all his might. 

Finally, the sirens become undeniably loud. A million footsteps rush into the wreckage, surrounding Street and drowning him in questions, but he only offers one answer. 

“We have to get Chris out, now.”

They ask how long and where she’s stuck and he thinks he answers. All their hands converge, pushing and lifting until they uncover where she is. 

Street’s heart stops at her closed eyes. The moment after the other first responders drop down to assess, he follows, uncaring of the hands and voices trying to stop him. 

“Chris,” he whispers, sweeter than he’s ever said it. He brushes her hair off her forehead, feeling for any bruising as he does. Too many others are poking and prodding at her, taking vitals and starting fluids, and he takes a breath. “Follow my voice, Chris. I’m right here.” 

Her lashes flutter. Unfamiliar hands and voices swirl around her and she wants to push back but she can’t move. Luckily, Street fills her field of vision and it takes the edge off. 

He’s worried. She hates that he’s worried and that she can’t figure out why. Bright lights flood the space enough to see tears shining over deep green, and she reaches for his free hand as she keeps focused on the other in her hair. 

“There she is,” he says with a small smile. “We’re almost there.”

“We’re almost ready to extricate.” Someone else says. They shove slightly at Street but Chris’s grip keeps him right where he is. A noise escapes the back of her throat and Street almost bares his teeth at the man to back up. 

“Officer Alonso,” he continues, smiling at her but it does nothing that Street’s does. “I’m Evan. We’re going to give you a dose of fentanyl to control the pain, and then get you out of here.”

“S—sure,” she nods, but it’s more like a jerk, and her nails dig into Street’s palm. He squeezes back. 

“I told you it’d be fine, didn’t I?”

It makes her want to laugh but she doesn’t have the air. Before she can reply, the weight moves and feeling overwhelms her. Hands wedge underneath her limbs, and this time Street is forced away from her even as she writhes to hold onto him. Catching a glimpse of the bruise and blood on her arm makes her go limp and lightheaded. 

Street watches, worried and heartbroken, as they load her onto a stretcher and into the back of the ambulance. The second he sees her eyes open, he runs to the still-open doors. 

“I’ll see you at the hospital. I promise.”

————————————————————————

It’s silent save the beeping of her heart monitor. Midnight has come and gone, the team staying as late as each of them could, and bowing out with an assurance from Street that he’d update them if need be. They could barely keep him from darting to the hospital from HQ after he gave his statement. Luca forced him into the shower, Deacon a bowl into his hands, but now he finds himself with one hand stroking her knuckles and the other shaking against his jeans. 

Dim yellow light highlights how peaceful she looks, and he’s glad she does, because his heart is still pounding. Her words echo in his head, her fear. His eyes keep finding the steady rhythm of the monitor to counter it.

A soft groan grabs his attention. Chris’s brows furrow—a sight he’ll never forget—and her fingers latch onto the warmth beside her. She shifts slightly, not able to go far, and he speaks softly. 

“Hey, hey, you’re okay.” 

A low grumble passes her lips, the lights too bright as she blinks against them. 

“What happened?” Chris mutters. But the memory hits her before she’s even finished and her eyes snap open as panic almost overtakes her. Until she sees him. Realizes the warmth in her grip is him. Relaxes.

“Hey,” he smiles, dimples and eyes soft and deep like a shelter in a storm. “How you feeling?” 

Taking stock of herself, she paws at the bandages on her shoulder that encase her arm, and lifts the blanket enough to see a matching wrap on her ankle. For a moment, fear sparks through her, but there’s no pain and she doesn’t have the energy to indulge her own anxiety. 

“Okay. Have you been here all night?” 

“I wasn’t gonna leave until I kept my promise.” 

Chris nods with a yawn and he stands to adjust the pillows for her to sink back into. Knowing she’s safe, seeing her awake and smiling, is enough to ease his chest. He reaches for his backpack, preparing to leave and give her privacy to rest, but she grabs his hand. 

“Thank you. For giving me something to hold onto.” 

Maybe it’s because it’s somewhere between two and four am and there’s no around, a moment charged with meaning but easy enough to brush off in the morning. Or maybe it’s because they both need it, but he sits back down and leans in, kissing her tenderly. 

“Thank you,” she repeats softly when they part, eyes blowing her soul wide open for him to see. He fixes her blanket and squeezes her hand. 

“Get some sleep. I’ll stay.” 

[misc-obeyme]

I'm the recent barb has a lizard/snail tail anon 🐌 idk if anyone's using that emoji or if I'm going to be leaving a lot of anons in your inbox to warrant having one.

I wanted to thank you for the info! That RAD magazine was a good read and reminded me that I really love Satan's tail too. I appreciate the detail of him wrapping it around his leg, and knowing it would probably hurt to sit on accidentally it makes sense to have it wrapped that way. He's sweet and probably doesn't want to hurt anyone unintentionally. Intentionally, maybe, but not accidentally or when he's in his book reading trances, having it out and causing damage to him or others.

I also love the tail glove for Barbatos! What an idea! I want this to be canon. I also like the idea of him using the tail to assist in cooking as like, an extra little pincer/tong thing. I can imagine him at the sink meticulously washing his hands and his tail tips (hygiene!) and drying them off with a towel before getting to work.

Thinking about him using his tail to roll out dough if the surface of the tail is fairly hard. He wouldn't even need to use his hands, he's whisking cream while his tail is rolling out the dough and cutting out the shapes.

This of course falls apart if we consider that if the wetness described is the kind that seeps out quickly, it'd be hard to keep that dry. And I still think that if his tail hits the slick floors in the castle that it might be some kind of slipping hazard. Here's hoping his tail is more useful to him than hindering.

-🐌

Oh no worries about the frequency with which you visit my ask box, you can still have an emoji. I have two emojis on the list that were only ever used once and several that I haven't heard from in ages. So I don't mind at all, there are plenty of emojis available! I will add yours to the list!

I really love Satan's tail. When I first started playing the game, I didn't even realize he had a tail for the longest time. Because I was always looking at the sprites from the waist up when they're on the screen and I hadn't looked at the full body version of it, so I never even saw his tail. Until one day I was thinking about who had wings and who had tails and I realized I didn't know which Satan had. Then I looked it up and I was like what!? That thing looks intense! There have been discussions here on the blog about what it's made out of. Since the other brothers tend to have tails that fit with their animals - like Levi's is a snake and Belphie's is a cow. So what is Satan's? It doesn't look like a standard unicorn tail?

And then someone (I think it was an anon) said that they thought of it as being bone.

And I was like OH YEAH I love that lol! I think a unicorn horn is also supposed to be bone, so you could even say that his tail is more like a prehensile unicorn horn than a unicorn tail that's just hair. But I like the bone interpretation either way!

And it makes sense that it'd be dangerous because it looks really hard and sharp. I never really thought about why he keeps it wrapped around his leg, but it makes sense that he'd do that just to prevent it from hurting people accidentally. But oh man, can you imagine being on the end of that thing if you were in a legit fight with him and he was trying to hurt you? Well, not you, but like an enemy of some kind. Other demons perhaps? Man, I think it'd be lethal.

OMG I loooove the image of Barbatos washing his tail tips and using the tail to roll out dough. I think he'd use the tail to make himself more efficient because that just feels like a very Barbatos thing to do. I'm not sure how wet they mean it to be, but it doesn't look wet in any of the art. So I kinda think it's probably not quite wet enough to be seeping out anywhere? But really there's no official statement about this as far as I know, so I kinda think it's whatever you like lol!

I also think he's probably used to holding it up so it doesn't hit the floor. I don't know if it's actually long enough to hit the floor, now that I'm thinking about it. I think it depends on the art... which does not depict its length consistently.

So possibly it's not quite long enough to drag along the floor? But if it is, he always seems to have it held up, so I suspect he just does that most of the time?

Maybe he only lets it rest when he's alone, you know? Like when he's finally relaxing... I'm just imagining him in a bathtub with a bunch of bubbles and his tail just hanging out over the edge all limp lol.

Anyway, I too hope that it's more helpful than hindering!

[finitevoid]

Hummingbird Heartbeat

Young Justice TV | Post S2 | Canon Divergent AU | Zetaflash | WIP | 25k words (so far)

Three years after the Reach invasion of the Earth is thwarted, Bart Allen is left adrift of purpose in his life. Spending so long preparing to save the world doesn't leave much room for thinking about what comes after. Too bad nobody seems to notice. But lies come to Bart as easy as breathing, and maintaining the timeline has always been much more important than honesty. Trust, however, isn't cheap, and is even harder to come by. Love and safety aren't mutually exclusive, and Bart's about to learn the hard way that his future isn't the only place where dogs eat dogs.

Mature: Gore, torture, human experimentation, Reach-enslavement of the human race and all that entails, teen abduction, human experimentation, unnecessary amounts of angst about the dynamics of time-travel, explorations of trauma and CPTSD, and speedforce shenanigans in the absolute worst way possible. I haven't decided if it's gonna be crazy enough to warrant a DD:DNE tag yet, lol. But... probably.

Read it here.

My current brainchild, a long, dark fic with a... different take on cartoon Bart Allen. Content warnings are for future chapters; it's pretty chill right now.