#like it obviously looks bad in my file

[c4tto626]

anyways... we currently have barely any projects at work and it's fucking bad, and it's been kind of bad since the start of 2023~ i had a single -1 work hour from 2022 when i had to leave earlier for a doctor's appointment, otherwise no missed hours that weren't on vacation or sick leave in like 2 years... and in the last six months i've accumulated -70 hours because of whole days with nothing to do! i've taken multiple unplanned vacation days and entire weeks of kind of unnecessary sick leave just to not have to sit at work doing nothing and it's obviously making my employee file look awful~ this week we somehow have to stretch a day's worth of files over five days! we're working in goddamn slow motion and it ironically feels more tiring than the normal faster work speed~ it just sucks and i'm already looking around for a new job cause i'm not getting paid enough to deal with this kind of company leadership incompetency lol it just sucks bc i really like the actual work i do (when there is work) aghh

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s2 episode 17 thoughts

whispers softly. man... i need a minute. shaky breath.

okay. i'll start at the top like always. AUGH THE TEARS. fighting them. okay. need to put on some sad songs to accompany the 45-60 minutes it will take to type all this up

so, i sat down ready to see where this was gonna go. in fact i noted that i was incredibly locked in. which i continue to believe that i was.

we see a submarine, which is a type of craft i just do not trust. even before all that went down last summer. too scary for me. but they see something giving off a signal. and despite being a cartographer ship, they have missiles. and they're gonna go towards the thing they see on the radar, because they were told to. which seems wrong.

but then all their power is knocked out!!! and they are ordered to surface. but how will they do that under a ton of ice?!?!

title sequence. i was expecting different than the usual "the truth is out there" but i guess it's just business as usual over here despite it all

back to where we left off: scully's on the phone with real mulder and fake mulder is in her room. she hangs up on real mulder and tells the fake one that it was a wrong number, which had to be confusing to real mulder.

she tells him to put his hands on the wall, and he makes some quip about being shot before and not caring for it, and for a minute i'm like oh shit, that's a very mulder thing to do- what if he is, in fact, real mulder, and it's fake mulder on the phone? but that theory didn't make much sense anyway and also it was quickly put to rest by the fact that he started beating the hell out of scully.

so time skip: real mulder shows up to the scene with his "sister", who says the alien hit man is gonna call and ask to make a trade: scully for his "sister", and yeah, quotes are verbatim, i was still not buying this whole family relation thing

but his "sister" says that she knows how to kill the alien hit man: you have to hit the base of his skull. maybe. she isn't 100% certain. and also you can't miss because their blood is toxic. which we actually did already know!

and he's getting suspicious. why won't she explain exactly where she has been all this time? and what's this deal with her "father"? he's yelling at her at this point and i get it because it's not adding up to me either

she says that the aliens have been trying to establish a colony on earth since the 1940's, and:

"it's their belief that the stewardship of the planet is being forsaken" <- okay yeah. can't argue there. some of us are trying, aliens. i am not one of the mega companies pouring nuclear waste into the ocean. but maybe y'all could do a better job. and she continues:

"and that by default they'll someday become the natural heirs" <- well hey. you were sounding reasonable but now you are not. have we considered that maybe the people already here could give it another go free from the shackles of the 1%? you're acting like it's an estate sale and buddy we're still living in the house. you lost me there, and i was willing to hear you out.

she says that all of the clones worked at abortion clinics to gain access to fetal tissue, so they could combine human and alien dna. which i imagine had to be a good pr boost for abortion clinics (heavy on the /s here)

and the killer is after them because their experiments with mixing alien with human dna were not sanctioned, so they're "diluting the race", which i guess seems like the thing they would be worried about.

he doesn't seem to fully buy it, because he says "that's a good story, but i've heard a lot of good stories lately" which is true!!! our old worstie ambrose chapel was a liar, remember? or at least someone impersonating him was doing some lying!

"i'm your sister, fox, you have to trust me" UM PROOF?? have we done a dna test??? you can't just show up like that!!!!!

skinner knocks at the door... but is it really him? or the shapeshifting hit man????

"why are the lights out?" skinner asks quite reasonably "orders from my ophthalmologist" he says, lying very easily for a man for loves the Truth. but it did make me giggle.

sister approves that it is really skinner! only after they set a trap to get him just in case it wasn't. again i ask why she can tell if it's the man or not but okay. we move past that.

he makes introductions: "this is my sister, samantha mulder" to which skinner replies "WHAT"

and yeah. i would react the same!!!!

(also weird to hear mulder used as a last name. to me that's just the guy. you know?)

NOOO his phone rings. it's scully calling from a payphone. "he says he's gonna kill me if you don't give him what he wants" oh. okay.

there's no time to explain to skinner what is going on so!!! just please trust me, he says!!! and he does. another point for skinner, who is like a strange uncle or cousin to me.

they go to do a hostage trade: "samantha" for scully. and is this the same bridge where they did the hostage deal for mulder at the end of s1? do they only have one bridge for hostage deals. might be a bit much to have 2 in one city.

skinner has a sniper in the bush, ready to shoot at the base of the alien hit man's neck during the exchange. okay save the day mister sniper please.

AUGH HOSTAGE EXCHANGE. it's so tense. i paused here to write how tense it was, which did not ease it in the slightest. the hit man has a gun to scully's head and it's recalling mulder's early trauma with hostage exchanges. they're waiting for the right moment to shoot....

scully's in the car!!!! but samantha tried to use the needle that kills the aliens and she MISSED and the sniper shot was messed up and then there's firing and is it the sniper? or is it the hit man? who is hit? it is very unclear!!!!! both hit man and samantha tumble into the cold water beneath.

he's still at the bridge, staring down into the place he last saw her. scully comes out to join him, and he says "you should be at the hospital" (she has gauze on her head and says she was just discharged)

he's staring into the water, trying to come up with different ways she might have lived

"why didn't you tell me on the phone that it was her?" "i couldn't tell you 'cause you'd never let me go through with it" AUGHHHHHHHHH.

(and knowing how the episode ends. i am glad this happened. but in the moment. this was a gut punch)

she asks how he knew it was really his sister (valid question, one i fear he should have asked as well) and he snaps about how could she ask that, and she's like, dude someone with your face and body just kidnapped me???? so the whole who is who thing is a little murky??

(she actually calmly explains this. without any judgement. judgement added was my own. but you can imagine that after this experience, hearing "he's an alien" might still be a bit of a hard sell)

okay, mr. mulder is on the scene. he has to tell his dad he lost his sister. I lost her, he says. emphasis on the I. as if it was an action that he took. fuck.

and his dad hits back with a "you LET this man take your sister?" and son mulder is CRYING. what the HELL this is too much. the man has suffered too much. i'm given flashbacks to the last time we saw him cry when he thought he lost scully forever.

PAUSE. i just know the actors were eating up these lines. ohhh i know they were sinking their teeth into them the way that good dialogue allows you to. when you tap into the soul of a character, a whole person who isn't even real, because the writing cuts to their heart. yeah yeah yeah i knowww they were rolling with it and it felt Good

back to the scene. his father is giving him a guilt trip about how his mother is going to deal with "losing her again". and he's apologizing and crying when his dad pulls out an envelope

"your sis- SAMANTHA" told me to give you this.

the implication that he lost the claim to be considered related to her????? is sooooo entirely messed up?? that is the kind of thing that ruins a person???? holy fuck??

he's sobbing while opening the letter, and it gives an address where she says they can meet up if they are separated... so maybe she's really still out there??? hope has been installed back into "she's not actually dead" camp

he rolls up to the address and parks in an area labeled "NO PARKING". grief will do this to a guy.

but just as he arrives, scully calls and says they found her in the river. NOOOOOO THE NEWLY RETURNED HOPE.... "whatever you're feeling, you can't blame yourself" she says, knowing that he must be putting his whole soul into Blaming Himself

but... her body is melting??? is it an alien body??? is the melting gonna turn into toxic gas?? scully don't stare at it you're gonna get all thick blood!!!!

back to mulder. this man is experiencing all stages of grief at once on the steps of a women's clinic. he goes in and pulls out a gun and boy i sure hope there are no women inside.

someone is in there. it's... someone with samantha's face??? saying that she knows "she's dead"????? "it was all a lie", he mumbles as he realizes he was played

YESSSS I KNEW IT. i knew that was NOT his sister. i knew it was too weird and coincidental to be true. this makes the grief of losing her dissipate entirely so i do consider this a win beyond me just being able to guess where the plot was going

and i'm thinking, how the hell is he gonna explain all this to scully? like, to mom and dad, you will have to play along with the whole "she died" thing, and while that is by no means easy, it is a concrete thing you can say and do. but scully??? how is she going to react to "someone pretended to be my sister and then got killed"

(i suppose mulder could tell his parents that DNA testing on "samantha's body" proved no relation, but that would still be complicated to walk through, because there was no corpse to prove that, you know, because she dissolved- maybe scully could make some paperwork to make it look real?)

back to the matter at hand: these aliens with the same face are saying that he must save their original source. and he says "i am not your savior" which- tea. set your boundaries king. in fact, had i been there, i would have done the opposite of protecting, and instead start blasting these aliens that pretended to be my long-dead sister.

but they have leverage... they know where she really is...... so he doesn't walk out....

hit man arrives!!!!! armed with his needle!!! and mulder goes to confront him, but he knocks him on his back, and sets a fire- mulder's weakness!!!!!!

scully is making a report. she cannot substantiate his claims of aliens. and she's got a cut on her forehead from hit man taking her. my poor queen :(

back to the fbi agent that died in the last episode. he has nasty cuts allllll over. like he was carved with designs. sorry for that imagery but i saw it and must describe it.

she thinks she can solve this case with the power of SCIENCE!!! what killed this guy, exactly? maybe if we can figure it out, the other pieces could fall into place

so the virus that causes the blood to thicken is inhibited by the cold.... which explains our earlier scene of mulder in the ice tub and her yelling about him needing to be cold...

DEEP THROAT 2.0 ARRIVAL? (sidenote does this dude have a real name? like while this was airing what were y'all calling him...)

he tells mulder that the last alien- the one who was sent to kill the clones, our shapeshifting hit man- has been tracked to alaska, and that you have to pick your battles to win the war. telling him not to go to alaska. can you imagine.

scully goes to his place and knocks but no one answers. and his newspapers on at the doorstep. so she busts out her keeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey..... heart still melts that she has this.......

and HE KNEW SHE WAS GONNA INVESTIGATE???? he sent her an email..... and he's saying how he wouldn't let her risk her life... nooo don't you weaponize the earlier drawing a line thing, that was about chasing a very vague alien lead to an agent's death, not about investigating ur sister...........

she bursts into skinner's office. and then apologizes for doing so.

(i love this so much. such a tiny detail that tells us a lot about her character. that Need to be good and do the right thing and please those whom she looks up to. ohhhhh)

he asks to speak to her off the record, and it seems at first promising... but he won't help her get in contact with mulder. EVEN after she says please!!!! she is gonna cry!!!!!

skinner's bitching about mulder's actions being a violation of his oath, and she's saying that he saved her life, and he comes back with a "if he wanted or expected you to do the same, he would have told you where he was going"

skinner being a jerk... at this point i began to revoke the point i earlier gave him...

he looks deeply troubled though, and i was like, ohhh, mulder must have promised him to not tell her where he was going... i see into your plans, mulder (<- this is not what happened)

back at mulder's place. scully's searching for clues. there's an x taped to the window again, which must be something he just does sometimes. and there's ominous music.

she falls asleep on his couch, and i swear i actually felt my heart melting at this moment. the way she was curled up. subconsciously trying to hold onto a piece of him. only finding rest where he did. i can't even wax poetic about this because i can't put the words into the right shape. but it is gonna destroy me.

someone is knocking... but who?

DEEP THROAT 2.0?!?!

he tries to act like he just went to the wrong room, but she isn't buying it, following him and demanding to know where he really is

SKINNER IS HERE? GETTING ON THE ELEVATOR????? SKINNER ATTACKING D.T. 2.0??? the girls are fighting!!!!!!!

he makes deep throat 2.0 tell him where mulder is, even when skinner is pinned up and deep throat 2.0 is the one holding the gun, and he said "i've killed men for less", but skinner says that if you kill him, he'll be killing 2 men....... this gag seems to have worked

SKINNER is AT THE DOOR to mulder's place where scully is staying. and he is bleeding from MANY wounds. tells scully where he is without elaborating on the blood pouring from all over. okay skinner. you're real for that. you get that point i was tossing around back. and a bonus one, in fact.

so mulder's out on the ice, and usually him wearing a big jacket would spark joy in my heart. and i won't lie, it does a little. but there is also a LOT of tension going on, so it's very brief. feels wrong to rejoice in the simple pleasures of man in big funny coat when he just had to lose his sister and then learn it wasn't even her.

but he sees some sort of tower and he's going in!!! and a dead guy is spotted.

pause. at this point i am sitting here thinking, man, these episodes are good, definitely among the best i've seen so far. who let these men cook? can we get them back in the kitchen with more regularity?

someone is leading him deeper and deeper into the maze of this... station? sub? and i fear he is being led into a trap. but he finds a very very scared man and having a big man point a gun at him doesn't help with the fear, i'm sure. but is it really a sniveling coward... or the hit man???

and JUST as he almost had me fooled and wondering if mulder was gonna really shoot an innocent guy, BAM! hit man reveal.

mulder keeps asking where his sister is, even while being pummeled by this alien with super strength. and he says "she's alive. can you die now?"

mulder shoots at the alien and he misses the back of his neck, so his toxic blood is filling up the space, and things are not looking good at all. and the alien takes him out and drops him on the ice!!!!!

he's going to break the ice and let him freeze or hit him with the sub as it goes down, both very bad endings........

CUTSCENE TO WHERE WE BEGAN!!!!

scully is bursting in, telling this doctor that he has a virus that can only be slowed by keeping him cold, and he isn't buying it, but just as he tries to get her kicked out of the room, his heart stops, so she intervenes.

and she's calling all the shots- get 100 grams of this and that and a drip of this- and this doctor has had his shift hijacked by a better doctor. he implies that mulder might not make it, and she refuses to hear this out.

and she's.... gently stroking his hair... while this is going down........

and sitting by his bed while he's getting better...

(so are the counts for who has been in a coma now tied? justice is served)

and now she's doing the case conclusion:

"several aspects of this case remain unexplained, suggesting the possibility of paranormal phenomena" <- OHHH??? is this what makes scully a believer? are we gonna see some character changes?

"but i am convinced that to accept such conclusions is to abandon all hope of understanding the scientific events behind them" okay!!! we are getting a deeper look into her philosophy here. yes yes yes give me more. and more i was given:

"many of the things i have seen have challenged my faith and my belief in an ordered universe, but this uncertainty has only strengthened my need to know, to understand, to apply reason, to those things which seem to defy it"

and i love it. i love it so much. seeing how she understands the world, why she knows that there has to be an order to it all, and if it seems there isn't, it's just because she hasn't figured it out yet... and science did allow him to get better... the need to fight a good fight in the way she knows how... yeah... that's lovely...

and she's CRYING at his bedside and holding his arm when he finally opens his eyes. her smile. her gentle "hey". it's so innocent, seeing that he is okay, that he made it through the worst part of getting better.

"thanks for ditching me" aughhhhghhhhh.......

he says he didn't find what he was looking for, but he did find the faith to keep looking. ohhhhh. ohhhhhhh...

the way his faith was gone at the start of season 2, but now it's back, there's something worth fighting for, his sister is out there, there is a world worth figuring out..........

man.

at this point my friend was sending me texts and i was like queen i need a minute. i need a minute. to put these things in order. and honestly i STILL do!

it was an absolutely amazing duo of episodes. i truly loved the writing, seeing them pushed to the brink with each other and with themselves. seeing skinner come into fruition. seeing what motivates them both and how they see the world and how it is entirely different but still driven by hope and faith and a need to learn the truth. and the tenderness of it all. of her sleeping on his couch in his absence, thinking maybe he'll be home soon. of running her fingers through his hair while he was being revived. the fury of being blamed for the loss of his sister, the fury with which she screamed at deep throat 2.0 to tell him where he went off to, the fury of mulder realizing he had been lied to and that his sister had never come back at all. but there still being hope despite it all. because there are things worth searching for. and they can do it together.

man. it was a very good episode but your girl is gonna go watch a silly video because it definitely hit me right in the Feelings!!

[pochapal]

btw for reference Here are all the spoiler glimpses of beatrice's form i've been accidentally exposed to for the sake of transparency and also so you can know how surreal/funny it is for me to be unravelling the meaning of this vicious murderwitch in canon while also seeing occasional iceberg tips of what seems to be some kind of extremely thorough and comprehensive blorbo memeification going on. i think you guys are doing some breaking bad fandom shit to this woman.

[skyburger]

best day of my life was when vimms lair let other regional versions of games be on the site u have no idea how happy i was. like yes finally i dont have to send people digging through a huge archive.org dump of DS games so they can play professor layton & not suffer thru lukes american dub voice 😭

[fazcinatingblog]

Who will get there first: Pendles reaching 10,000 disposals or Todd Michael Goldstein reaching 10,000 hitouts

[cocklessboy]

The biggest male privilege I have so far encountered is going to the doctor.

I lived as a woman for 35 years. I have a lifetime of chronic health issues including chronic pain, chronic fatigue, respiratory issues, and neurodivergence (autistic + ADHD). There's so much wrong with my body and brain that I have never dared to make a single list of it to show a doctor because I was so sure I would be sent directly to a psychologist specializing in hypochondria (sorry, "anxiety") without getting a single test done.

And I was right. Anytime I ever tried to bring up even one of my health issues, every doctor's initial reaction was, at best, to look at me with doubt. A raised eyebrow. A seemingly casual, offhand question about whether I'd ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. Even female doctors!

We're not talking about super rare symptoms here either. Joint pain. Chronic joint pain since I was about 19 years old. Back pain. Trouble breathing. Allergy-like reactions to things that aren't typically allergens. Headaches. Brain fog. Severe insomnia. Sensitivity to cold and heat.

There's a lot more going on than that, but those were the things I thought I might be able to at least get some acknowledgement of. Some tests, at least. But 90% of the time I was told to go home, rest, take a few days off work, take some benzos (which they'd throw at me without hesitation), just chill out a bit, you'll be fine. Anxiety can cause all kinds of odd symptoms.

Anyone female-presenting reading this is surely nodding along. Yup, that's just how doctors are.

Except...

I started transitioning about 2.5 years ago. At this point I have a beard, male pattern baldness, a deep voice, and a flat chest. All of my doctors know that I'm trans because I still haven't managed to get all the paperwork legally changed, but when they look at me, even if they knew me as female at first, they see a man.

I knew men didn't face the same hurdles when it came to health care, but I had no idea it was this different.

The last time I saw my GP (a man, fairly young, 30s or so), I mentioned chronic pain, and he was concerned to see that it wasn't represented in my file. Previous doctors hadn't even bothered to write it down. He pushed his next appointment back to spend nearly an hour with me going through my entire body while I described every type of chronic pain I had, how long I'd had it, what causes I was aware of. He asked me if I had any theories as to why I had so much pain and looked at me with concerned expectation, hoping I might have a starting point for him. He immediately drew up referrals for pain specialists (a profession I didn't even know existed till that moment) and physical therapy. He said depending on how it goes, he may need to help me get on some degree of disability assistance from the government, since I obviously shouldn't be trying to work full-time under these circumstances.

Never a glimmer of doubt in his eye. Never did he so much as mention the word "anxiety".

There's also my psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with ADHD last year (meeting me as a man from the start, though he knew I was trans). He never doubted my symptoms or medical history. He also took my pain and sleep issues seriously from the start and has been trying to help me find medications to help both those things while I go through the long process of seeing other specialists. I've had bad reactions to almost everything I've tried, because that's what always happens. Sometimes it seems like I'm allergic to the whole world.

And then, just a few days ago, the most shocking thing happened. I'd been wondering for a while if I might have a mast cell condition like MCAS, having read a lot of informative posts by @thebibliosphere which sounded a little too relatable. Another friend suggested it might explain some of my problems, so I decided to mention it to the psychiatrist, fully prepared to laugh it off. Yeah, a friend thinks I might have it, I'm not convinced though.

His response? That's an interesting theory. It would be difficult to test for especially in this country, but that's no reason not to try treatments and see if they are helpful. He adjusted his medication recommendations immediately based on this suggestion. He's researching an elimination diet to diagnose my food sensitivities.

I casually mentioned MCAS, something routinely dismissed by doctors with female patients, and he instantly took the possibility seriously.

That's it. I've reached peak male privilege. There is nothing else that could happen that could be more insane than that.

I literally keep having to hold myself back from apologizing or hedging or trying to frame my theories as someone else's idea lest I be dismissed as a hypochondriac. I told the doctor I'd like to make a big list of every health issue I have, diagnosed and undiagnosed, every theory I've been given or come up with myself, and every medication I've tried and my reactions to it - something I've never done because I knew for a fact no doctor would take me seriously if they saw such a list all at once. He said it was a good idea and could be very helpful.

Female-presenting people are of course not going to be surprised by any of this, but in my experience, male-presenting people often are. When you've never had a doctor scoff at you, laugh at you, literally say "I won't consider that possibility until you've been cleared by a psychologist" for the most mundane of health problems, it might be hard to imagine just how demoralizing it is. How scary it becomes going to the doctor. How you can internalize the idea that you're just imagining things, making a big deal out of nothing.

Now that I'm visibly a man, all of my doctors are suddenly very concerned about the fact that I've been simply living like this for nearly four decades with no help. And I know how many women will have to go their whole lives never getting that help simply because of sexism in the medical field.

If you know a doctor, show them this story. Even if they are female. Even if they consider themselves leftists and feminists and allies. Ask them to really, truly, deep down, consider whether they really treat their male and female patients the same. Suggest that the next time they hear a valid complaint from a male patient, imagine they were a woman and consider whether you'd take it seriously. The next time they hear a frivolous-sounding complaint from a female patient, imagine they were a man and consider whether it would sound more credible.

It's hard to unlearn these biases. But it simply has to be done. I've lived both sides of this issue. And every doctor insists they treat their male and female patients the same. But some of the doctors astonished that I didn't get better care in the past are the same doctors who dismissed me before.

I'm glad I'm getting the care I need, even if it is several decades late. And I'm angry that it took so long. And I'm furious that most female-presenting people will never have this chance.

[feyburner]

I ??? woke up at 3am with this scene fully written in my mind palace and quickly jotted it down in the Notes app

*

Clark’s shaking his head before he realizes he’s doing it, and feels a twinge of embarrassment at his own bad manners when Bruce stops mid-word to look at him, brows raised.

“No?” he says.

“No,” Clark says, again without thinking, and again with the reflexive urge to apologize. Somewhere his mother is tutting without knowing why. But he doesn’t apologize, because he’s already saying, “No, it can’t—it can’t be that.”

“Okay,” Bruce says slowly. “Can you elaborate?”

He is, honestly, having trouble taking his eyes off the screen. The mockup design of his new suit is there, dark and sleek, ridged like tactical gear. The blue is like the last shade of evening before you can’t call it evening anymore, the color of nine PM in Kansas in July, so exact there’s a strong chance Bruce color-picked it from a photo. The yellow accents are the cool fluorescent yellow-green of lightning bugs. The red is dark as arterial blood. Every aspect of the suit has been updated—the colors deeper, the angles sharper, the S extending to the corners of its frame—but Bruce has done it without changing the fundamentals. It’s immediately recognizable as the Superman suit, just… well, a little cooler, maybe. A little more of the times. Even the tailoring is modernized. The neckline. The shape of the boots. Where the belt hits at the waist. Clark can tell just by looking that Bruce has not only spent a lot of time on this in general, he’s spent a lot of time designing it specifically with Clark in mind, Clark’s needs and preferences and the small discomforts of his current suit, things he might have mentioned offhand after a mission but never with the assumption that Bruce was listening or filing it away. No doubt the next slides of this presentation will detail all the hidden features of the new suit, and they’ll all be incredibly thoughtful if not slightly overkill, and Bruce will pretend his sole motive here was practicality and risk reduction and respond to any thanks with a curt nod.

And Clark wants to thank him. He will. It’s just.

“It can’t be… cool,” he says, inane. Bruce is watching him with that steady look that used to feel clinical, piercing, and now mostly reads as attentive. “It can’t be—like yours. Tactical, military-grade.”

“Lightyears beyond, actually.”

“It has to—Ma said once, a kid should be able to draw it with crayons. You know? I can’t look like a weapon. I have to—I want to look like a friend.”

He can feel himself flushing. It’s rare that he speaks like this, and rarer still that he does so while being stared at intently. Bruce may think of himself as the darkness, but his gaze is a spotlight: unwavering and revealing and more a little sweat-inducing, for one reason or another.

“Sometimes, when I show up, people laugh,” Clark says. “If it’s somewhere out of the way, where they haven’t seen me before. I show up and I look like a festival performer. It’ll be the worst day of their lives, and they’ve got no reason to trust my face, but when they see what I’m wearing—it goes from ‘Who are you?’ to ‘Who is this guy?’ And that’s a good thing.”

“Hard to be afraid of a man dressed in primary colors,” Bruce says, almost to himself.

“Exactly.”

“I see. Thank you,” he says, “for explaining.”

Clark tries not to show how surprised he is to hear that. Judging by the crook of Bruce’s mouth, his success is negligible. “Of course. Sorry I didn’t—I mean, thank you, obviously, for going to such trouble. I didn’t mean to come in here and—I really do appreciate it, I can tell you put a lot of work in—”

Bruce’s eyes cut away. “No. No need. I didn’t ask, before I…. It was only a first draft. If you’re amenable, I’ll incorporate your feedback into the second one.”

“Oh! Yeah. Yes, of course, but you really don’t have to—”

“If you have any further notes, I would like to hear them.”

There’s something determined in the lines of his face. Clark has the sense that this moment is important, that it’s a turning point, even if he’s not sure why. It feels like striking out into a sea of ice, a blank white expanse under which something precious and vital is hidden, has been hidden all along, just waiting for him to find it. To want to.

“Sure,” he says. He looks back at the suit and swallows, and knows Bruce will see the flicker of his throat and take some meaning from it, and wishes he knew what the meaning was. Or maybe Bruce won’t notice or read into it at all. Maybe Clark needs to calm down, in fact. “Um. I don’t want to assume, but does it… do things?”

“It does things,” Bruce confirms, after the barest pause. “Let me show you the next slide.”

[bbokicidal]

"Are you serious...?" - Angst! [Hyung Line SKZ]

Notes : These are all obviously fictional situations, the red flags are just based off of habits we know they have (like Chan's need to be needed, Changbin being blunt/honest.) This post isn't me saying I think they have these red flags, it's just a fun angsty prompt I wrote down. If you don't like it, scroll and don't read.

If people like this - a maknae line will be written! If not, prolly not lol.

Warnings : Angst with no comfort, red flag behavior - some of these aren't even that bad or could be misunderstandings but still.

Maknae Line | "Good Luck, Babe." Part Two!! Here!

BangChan - Brushing off/Having the wrong priorities

One time, it was him forgetting a dinner date - the next, he was staying at the studio late when he was supposed to be meeting your parents for the first time. You let it slide because ultimately you understood that his job took up a lot of his time, and honestly? It wasn't easy to forget about but he had a tendency to take care of you and make up with it by quick gestures before he left the apartment or when he came home; Soft back hugs, quick cuddles before he fell asleep, or kisses in passing. Lately, however, he's been slacking. He'd begun to shrug you off any time you'd touched his arm or hand, nudging you away while he typed on his laptop. He'd tip his head away from yours while laying in bed together or he'd sit further away on the dressing room sofa.

The tipping point was when he was getting ready to go on stage and was standing in wait for the others to be ready. There was still five minutes and Chris looked a bit jittery, so you figured a quick hug or kiss would help ease his nerves. However as soon as you approach and reach to touch his arms, he steps back and keeps his eyes trained on his phone. You reach again, hesitant, and his brow furrows as he maneuvers to the side to get away. "Don't touch me."

Your lips pop apart in surprise. "...Are you serious?"

He looks over, eyes briefly wandering your face before he reaches to fix his in-ear and walks away to the door, disappearing around the corner and leaving you standing there alone. Even the soft touch of Felix's hand on your back as he passed by was warmer than anything you'd felt from Chris in the last two months.

Lee Know - Keeping secrets / Prioritizing Privacy within himself

Minho had a very, very bad habit of not telling you things. In this instance; That he was leaving for tour in two days.

A world. fucking. tour. The only reason you didn't know about it was because you hadn't been out of your home in the last few weeks unless it was for a quick coffee at the cafe or to grab lunch with a friend. Work was heavy during this time of year and as someone who worked remotely, you often spent grueling hours in your office on your computer - hunched, tired, head pounding and back sore.

So you would think that when you entered your bedroom one evening after just finishing up sorting files in your office, you'd be happy to see your boyfriend already there. And you were for a moment, until you realized he was packing three rather large suitcases full of his clothes and necessities. He looks to you, then away, wordless.

"Are.. you.. moving out, or something?" You breathe in a laugh, eyes wandering over Minho as he folds a t-shirt and tucks it into his suitcase with the others.

"No. I have to bring all of my luggage to the company building tomorrow so they can have it at the airport when we leave for Australia."

"Australia?" Your brows quirk. "When -- Why --"

"Tour." He stops his movements to stare over at you, a hint of irritation evident on his face. "We're going on tour for six months."

"Six--" You breathe out, eyes widening. "Six months. And you didn't think to tell me?"

Minho moves to drop a pair of pants in his suitcase. "I would've told you if you could handle the news, maybe. Every time I mention leaving all you do is whine and pout about how long I'll be gone."

"I get upset, yes, what girlfriend wouldn't be upset that her boyfriend is leaving for a week or two? But six months, Minho, I --"

"Don't start." He all but huffs out the words, shutting you up immediately. Minho turns away to continue folding items of clothing on the shared bed and as you watch him do so, you stand and have to wonder if you want to be there when he returns home from the tour.

Changbin - Not knowing the difference between being rude and being blunt

He didn't seem to understand when to stop. Changbin had a tendency to be honest, sometimes to a fault, though you never seemed to complain about it because most of the time it wasn't a big deal. He called Jeongin out for saying the wrong word when singing, or blatantly threw people under the bus when a joke was taken too far.

And he was like that with you, too. He would be honest with you when you asked his opinion of something - was the shirt unflattering? Were you being too loud? Was your makeup bad today?

He'd lay it on you point blank. Yes, the shirt fit a little weird. Yes, you were being a bit loud in his ear. And yes, your eyeliner was going in two different directions. Criticism that was asked for. But when it wasn't asked for? Oh.

"What is your problem?" He bites as he follows you down the hallway to your bedroom. "We have ten minutes, just wear the damn dress and put your shoes on. We have to go."

Your huffs mix with stifled sobs as you rip open your dresser drawer and dig for other options, hands shaking and eyes teary. "You just told me the dress looks ugly, Changbin. I'm not wearing it out if you don't like it--!"

"What does it matter if i don't like it? It's your body, wear what you want!"

"You're my boyfriend!" You retaliate, frustrated. "I want to look nice for you and -- for the group, and I want you to like what I wear, obviously!"

Changbin lets his eyes roll before he turns out of the bedroom doorway and down the hall. You pause to watch him go, listening as he bites about how he doesn't have time for this and needs to leave for the group dinner. You stand in front of your dresser in shock as the door to your apartment slams shut, leaving you in silence and all on your own.

Hyunjin - Being too cocky / Making you feel inferior

It hadn't happened before now, and you weren't sure why it happened at all. But it did.

You'd approached to gently hold onto your boyfriend's arm as he talked to an older idol - someone he looked up to and had just done a collaboration video with. You'd only come up to tell him that the food was delivered and he could have dinner before his stage, but the look he gave you when he finally turned his head was .... wild.

No words were needed. The way his eyes directed to the side you stood at before falling as if looking you over and then immediately looking away; The way the smirk on his lips only widened and his tongue pushed at his canines as he redirected his gaze elsewhere. The soft scoff that left his lips. The way his arm slipped away from your hold in clear nuance that he didn't want you touching him.

It made you feel like less. Like he was pretending he didn't know you - Like he wanted you to bug off and disappear from his line of sight.

Hyunjin had a tendency to put on a confident, bold persona when he was on stage and at first you thought maybe that was why he was acting this way. It was lingering in his body from the dance video he'd just filmed with the other idol and eventually, it would wear off.

But as he turned from you and lifted a hand to fix his hair, he talks to the other as if you're not even there at all. And you have to wonder if it's a persona for the video, or a side of him you had just experienced for the first time. Now you could only hope it wouldn't happen again.

[jobean12-blog]

The Fine Print

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (CEO!Bucky AU)

Word Count: 4,126

Summary: You've been working under Bucky for almost a year and he's always been a grumpy ass and even though when the lines get blurred you can't seem to stay away.

Author's Note: These new pics and all the new gym shots and vids and yum! Just being fed so well! I like the idea of a grumpy CEO who just wants you and he's mad about it. No excuse for being a dick but he's not really all bad. And anyway, I'd never tell him no...haha! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Thank you Daisy for the lovely divider @firefly-graphics😘

Warnings: Grumpy ass Bucky (he's a total ass sometimes but has moments of softness), sassy reader, lots of tension, flirting, curses, fingering, light dirty talk

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You’re late. Only twenty minutes but it’s long enough that your grumpy ass of a boss will have your head for it.

Grumpy…and an ass but entirely too gorgeous.

You pick up the pace, precariously balancing your files and bags and hoping you don’t faceplant on the newly shined floors.

Getting a flat tire on the highway this morning wasn’t on your long to-do list for today, but it still happened and now you’ll have to deal with a very cranky Mr. Barnes.

You round the corner and enter your office, ready to give your usual sunshine filled greeting.

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes!”

He’s standing at your desk, arms crossed over his broad chest and his eyes hard.

“Is it a good morning?” he asks, not bothering to move out of the way as you try to slip around him. “What time is it?”

You stop and meet his glare.

“I had some car trouble this morning. I got a flat on my way in.”

Your voice comes out steady and strong and relief floods through you. This was the first time you were late, and you were not going to be reprimanded.

“Trouble is quite the fitting word for what I’ve been dealing with in your absence.”

You glance up at him and his antagonizing stare, and blink away your surprise at his words.

“I would have thought you would at least ask me if I was ok Mr. Barnes,” you say sweetly and with a smile. “After all, how could I possibly manage to fix a flat tire all on my own.”  

His jaw clenches tightly.

“Obviously you managed,” he counters. “And you look just fine.”

Beautiful blue eyes wander languidly down your body before making their slow perusal back up to study your face.

You try to school your features and when he raises an expectant brow you bite back with, “Thankfully I am fine, and I got help but I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with the burden of picking up a telephone and sending an e-mail all on your own this morning. It won’t happen again.”

He takes a step closer to you and you stop yourself from swaying forward to get a hint of his scent.

Traitorous body. If only the fucker wasn’t so fucking hot.

“You’re right. It won’t,” he replies with a smug smile. “And just so you don’t forget, I’d like to see…”

He spends the next minute rattling off several project pieces he’d like to see completed and on his desk by the end of the day.

“And then you can make up the half an hour you missed by getting together a mock presentation for our meeting tomorrow.”

When your nostrils flare, he smiles triumphantly and dips his head, so his warm breath caresses the shell of your ear.

“I’ll see you in the conference room at six.”

He turns away and slams his office door behind him and you let out an exasperated puff of air.

“It was only twenty minutes asshole.”

You mutter the words under your breath as you plop into your office chair and continue to curse his name in grumbles.

There’s a light knock on the door before it opens and you know you’re about to hear the voice of your friend and coworker, Jess.

“I know you’re working through lunch,” she says. “So at least let me get you something.”

You don’t look up but smile nonetheless, your fingers flying over the keyboard with ease.

“Honestly, I don’t even think I have time to eat,” you say before hitting the period button hard and meeting her eyes.

Jess gives you a sympathetic look. “I’ll grab you something nutritious.”

She waves before gently shutting the door. You lean over to check your desk drawer for snacks, the mention of lunch reminding you that you are in fact, hungry. At the same time that you see you have nothing to eat you notice a tear in your stockings.

“Son of a bitch,” you grumble. “I just bought these.”

Less than a minute later your door opens again and without looking up from your screen you whine, “do you know what, after the morning I’ve had I think I’ll take something sweet…maybe a cookie. Or twelve. Or chocolate of any kind.”

When you receive no acknowledgement, in return you glance up and see that Jess is not standing at your door.

You quickly tug the hem of your skirt down, noting how Bucky’s eyes track the movement and linger on your legs.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes, I didn’t realize…”

“Since your morning has been so awful,” he starts, his sly smile growing, “why don’t you run down to the café and pick us both up some lunch.”

Your lips purse and once again his eyes seem glued to every action you take.

“Mr. Barnes, Jess has just come in and said she would grab me something to eat so I can continue working through lunch.”

When he doesn’t say anything, you continue.

“I have A LOT to get done.”

“I’m sure you’ll make it work,” he says before rattling off his lunch order.

He turns on his heel and takes two long strides back to his office, pulling the door closed hard behind him.

“What the f…?”

You don’t even finish the sentence when he opens the door again and pokes his head out.

“Make sure you get yourself something to eat. We’re going to be here late.”

The door slams shut again, and you abruptly stand, your rolling chair flying back into the wall as you storm off.

“Why does he care if I eat or not?” you ask yourself as you angrily stuff things into your bag and throw it over your shoulder.

The rest of the day goes by far too quickly and you find yourself cursing out the copy machine as you wait for the rest of your papers to go through. Checking your phone you see you’re already almost ten minutes late to your afterhours ‘meeting.’

You rush down the dim hall of the now empty building, your presentation materials clutched tightly to your chest and glance again at your phone.

Fifteen minutes. Shit.

As you near the conference room, you try to calm your breathing and slow to a walk. A soft light shines from under the door, and you know he’s in there waiting for you.

Taking a deep breath you knock.

“Come in.”

You walk into the large room, never failing to take in the view of the city that the floor to ceiling windows along one wall highlight.

At the head of the large dark wood conference table, sits Bucky. His suit jacket is hanging haphazardly over the back of his chair, his tie is loose around his neck, and the crisp white sleeves of his button down are rolled up to his elbows.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes. The copy machine…”

Realizing you’ve been apologizing all day, and it has made no difference, you stop yourself and lift your chin, walking over to where he sits and placing down your papers, sorting through them as quickly as possible so you can begin.

“Have you eaten dinner?” he asks.

His question takes you completely by surprise and you meet his piercing blue eyes with a confused expression.

“I uh…I had lunch.”

“That doesn’t answer my question sweetheart.”

At his sugared endearment, your eyes widen, and your breath catches in your throat, but you regain your composure.

“No. I haven’t.”

He just nods and gestures to the papers, clearly waiting for you to get started.

You lean over the table, searching for the paper you need and in your disheveled state don’t realize your entire lower body is practically draped over him.

“I just need to find…”

The words catch in your throat when you feel his fingers softly touch your thigh, slowly inching higher to reveal the tear in your stocking. His fingertips trace the sheared fabric and press against your skin, igniting it with heat.

Every muscle in your body tenses, your heart pounds in your chest and your brain screams at you to push him away but you don’t dare move.

“Look at me,” he demands, pressing his fingertips harder into your skin.

You straighten and turn to face him, his hand sliding up and over the curve of your hip to settle on your waist.

“Mr. Barnes?” you ask, keeping your eyes trained on his.

“James. Call me James.”

The intensity of his stare makes your breath catch and when he doesn’t answer and instead continues letting his hand trace your curves you battle with your emotions.

“The next time you have car trouble,” and his hand slips under your skirt again, “you call me.”

“What? Why would I?”

His fingertips graze the lace top of your stocking before he lifts your skirt higher and drops his eyes between your legs.

“Because I said so,” he murmurs, teasing along your inner thigh.

Your hand falls to the table to steady yourself and you willingly spread your legs open when he gives them a slight push.

“That’s hardly a good reason,” you breathe out.

“Fuck,” he growls, and his eyes fall closed.

You glance down at his lap and see him straining against the expensive fabric of his pants.

He smooths two fingers along the line of your panties, lightly pressing against your swollen and sensitive clit. His eyes open and he looks furious, fisting the thin material in his hand and in one quick movement, tearing it off.

He pulls you down roughly onto his lap, your skirt riding up over your hips to accommodate the wide spread of your legs as you straddle him.

An involuntary moan slips past your parted lips when he grabs your ass and drags you down over his hard cock.

When he opens his mouth to speak you grab his tie between your fingers and use it to pull his mouth to yours. Every sweep of his lips is heaven, and you release his tie to rake your fingers through his hair.

He makes a low, angry noise deep in his throat and you trail your lips along his jaw, kissing your way down the strong column of his neck.

His hand slides from your ass and slips between your legs, his fingers brushing through the wetness just before there’s a knock on the door.

You both go completely still and wait. When a second knock sounds, he quietly curses and gently lifts you off his lap.

You quickly pull your skirt down and smooth your hands over your hips. He watches your every move as he runs a hand through his mussed hair and sits up in the chair, hiding his legs and erection under the table.

“What?” he growls, loud enough for whomever is on the other side to hear.

“Mr. Barnes, we’re scheduled to do maintenance in here tonight.”

He curses again and continues to stare at you.

“I’m just finishing a meeting. Give me five minutes.”

“Of course, Mr. Barnes,” the maintenance manager, says, “take your time.”

His chest rises and falls rapidly as he splays his hands out over the tabletop. Hastily he stands and tries to straighten his tie, his eyes landing on your ripped panties that lie on the floor.

He grabs them and rubs the silky fabric between his fingers.

“Make sure you eat something,” he says and then shrugs on his suit jacket, tucking your panties into the breast pocket.

You’re clutching the table and staring as he grabs his briefcase and starts toward the door.

“It’s late. I’m going to have security walk you to your car,” he states, finally meeting your eyes.

His groan is pained as his gaze travels down your body and then he disappears out the door.

You fall back into a chair and try to calm your breathing. You’d have to be out of here in a minute and you didn’t want to look suspicious. Seeing movement outside the door you begin gathering your things and stand on still shaky legs.

With a deep inhale you straighten your shoulders and walk out the door with a serene smile, greeting the head of security and thanking him for escorting you out.

What the fuck just happened?

The next morning you’re making your way into the office when he walks in. You do nothing more than greet him with a curt nod, giving him a wide berth of space as you make your way to your desk.

You can feel his eyes on you, the lick of heat traveling down your spine. You’re wearing your favorite dress and while it’s appropriate for the workspace it accentuates all the right spots, and you smile to yourself as you bend down to retrieve something from your desk drawer.

Regardless of what transpired last night you are not going to let it affect your work. You felt powerful and confident in this dress and Mr. Barnes can fuck off.

You peek over your shoulder to find him standing halfway in the doorway of his office and staring. You raise your brows and blink.

He clears his throat and mumbles a short “good morning,” then steps into his office and slams the door.

You roll your eyes and promise yourself he’ll be the last thing on your mind as you set out to get as much work done today as possible.

As lunch approaches you grab your bag and reach for your wallet. Your fingers close around a crumpled piece of paper, and you start to smile when you’re reminded of what it is.

You knock on his office door and saunter inside when he says, “come in.” The receipt hits his desk with a smack and without an explanation you turn and walk back out.

You almost make it to the first step in the stairwell when you hear footsteps approach behind you.

“Where the hell do you think you’re running off to?” he calls.

You continue walking and make it down one flight of steps before saying, “to get lunch.”

He meets you on the landing and clutches your elbow, spinning you around and pushing you against the wall.

Your eyes narrow contemptuously.

He whips the receipt out and in front of your face. “Want to explain this sweetheart?”

You let out a wry chuckle. “You know for such a smart guy you really are an ass sometimes. It’s a receipt.”

“I can see that,” he says through clenched teeth. “What I want to know is why you’re making purchases for…lingerie…on my company credit card.”

“Some jerk ripped up my favorite pair of panties last night.”

You shrug your shoulders and try to skirt past him.

His hand meets the wall next to your head, his fingers curling and crumpling the receipt and you can feel how tightly the muscles in his body are flexed when he presses closer.

He looks tormented for the split second before his lips crash down on yours and your treacherous body melts into the kiss.

His cock throbs against your stomach as he tries to hike your dress up over your thighs. Reluctantly he steps back, making enough space so he can slowly slide your dress higher, above your panties and look his fill.

“I like this pair even more than last nights,” he simpers.

His fingers hook into the lace at your hip, and you grab his shirt. “Don’t you dare Barnes.”   

“You can buy as many new pairs as you want.”

He once again easily tears them from your hips.

Your lips part in shock but he swallows your sassy remark with his mouth. The roughness of his kiss is a sharp contrast to the way his fingers softly tease between your legs.

You need more but you’ll be damned if you’re going to beg him for it. As if he can read your inner thoughts, his eyes light up in triumph when he pulls away to meet your gaze.

“As much as I want to hear you beg me for it sweetheart, I already know how badly you want it. You’re soaked for me.”

“You’re such an ass…”

He slides a finger inside you and your combined groans echo in the empty stairwell, the insult dying on your lips.

His stare is intense as he dips his head to your ear, warm lips brushing ever so gently when he whispers, “say please and I’ll give you what you want.”

Instead, you nip at his jaw, stifling the moan of need that threatens to rise in your throat. He continues pumping one finger in and out, sweat beginning to bead on his brow and his teeth gritted.

You hiss out a curse that’s followed by a breathy “please.”

You’re expecting him to be smug but instead he slows his movements and languidly pushes a second finger inside you, clearly relishing the way your eyelids flutter closed and you clench around him.

“That’s it sweetheart. Show me how much you love it when I fuck you with my fingers.”

His words practically send you over the edge but it’s the press of his thumb to your clit that makes your legs start to shake and his name fall from your lips like a prayer.

When his head falls to your neck and he places soft kisses along your skin, traveling up to your ear to whisper, “come for me gorgeous,” you let go and dig your fingernails into his strong shoulders, finishing with a muffled cry.

He draws out your pleasure with the slow push and pull of his fingers before sliding them out and holding them between you, his skin glistening under the harsh fluorescent lights.

His fingers press to his lips, parting them as he licks them clean, clearly savoring every drop of your taste.

“I knew you’d be sweet,” he croons.

“James,” you whimper when your hands fall to his pants.

He grabs your wrist to stop you and pushes your hand away. With soft movements he fixes your dress, smoothing his hands along your curves.

“But…” you start, and he silences you with a kiss.

You’re breathless and your head is fuzzy by the time he pulls away and with a wink he steps back and says, “lunch is over. We have a meeting to attend.”

He turns on his heel and jogs back up the steps with ease. Your narrowed eyes follow him before you let out a frustrated huff and walk on wobbly legs in the same direction.

You had forgotten all about the meeting…the one you were supposed to go over the plans for the night before.

When you walk into the large conference room everyone is already seated and Bucky is of course at the head of the table. His eyes are trained on you as you walk to the front and place your things down near him.

The presentation you’re giving shouldn’t take more than ten minutes, but there’s a lot riding on it and after what just happened, you’re obviously feeling flustered.

You open your document and greet and address the room, doing everything in your power to keep your focus on where it belongs and not on him.

But when you pause your eyes lock with his and your ability to speak is momentarily stolen. His gaze is intense, the heat simmering there almost palpable.

With a clear of your throat you continue, fumbling slightly but thankfully recovering quick enough that no one seems to notice. No one but him.

His perfect lips raise in a lopsided grin, and he runs his tongue along the seam of his lips. It’s clear where his thoughts are, and you must tear your eyes away to unscramble your head. He’s obviously trying to fluster you and quickly your nerves are replaced with anger, and you use it to fuel the rest of your presentation, finishing it with ease.

You sit with a smile and lift your chin, challenging him with your eyes. He stares right back.

“Thank you,” he says, addressing you by your first name as he stands and commands the room. “That was an excellent presentation. Clearly, you were well prepared.”

You can’t tell if his words are mocking or meaningful and it sets you on edge. He moves around the room and answers any lingering questions before ending the meeting with a dismissive hand.

As people stand and gather their things, Bucky comes up behind you, pressing his chest close to your back as he leans in to pretend to grab something from the table.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to make it thought that” he chuckles.

To everyone else it appears he’s making a funny remark, but you can feel your skin heat at his proximity and taunting words.

“Ugh,” you say through gritted teeth. “You would have loved that wouldn’t you?”

You can feel your eyes fill with unshed tears, the emotions of the day finally catching up to you and when his gaze finds yours his expression morphs from haughty to soft in an instant.

It only sends you reeling again, the confusion flooding through you and before he can say more you gather your things and rush out the door. Unexpectedly, he’s hot on your heels all the way to the elevator.

There are several other people on it so when you stop at the next floor and more employees file in, you’re squeezed toward the back, pushed farther into him, your ass against his crotch.

He’s hard and you feel the rest of him stiffen with the sharp intake of his breath. You take a step away from him, as much as you can in the confined space, but he reaches forward and grips your hip to pull you back.

“Don’t move,” he whispers into your neck.

“I’m two seconds away from shoving my heel up your ass,” you seethe.

He leans even closer, keeping a firm grasp on your hip.

“You were deliberately trying to make me fuck that up!”

You turn your head to peer at him and his mouth falls open, brows furrowed.

“What?” he says.

“You heard me.”

When you reach the floor just before the top, everyone else exits the elevator and the doors close, leaving you both pressed together in the corner.

It starts to move again, and you jerk backward, falling against him as he leans into the wall.

His sudden growl startles you and then he slams his hand into the stop button on the control panel.

His body cages you against the wall and his breathing is harsh.

“I would never want you to fuck anything up,” he exhales. “It’s impossible for me to think about anything but you…how good you taste, and I haven’t even gotten my mouth on you.”

You hide your surprise at his confession.

“Yet.” He adds in a promised whisper.

“This is my career at stake Mr. Barnes. You’re the one with all the power here. What do you have to lose?”

“Me? All the power?” He laughs dryly. “You’re the one who does this to me…the only one.”

You feel him throb against your stomach and you can see the truth in his eyes.

“Then don’t be such a dick all the time.”

You mean the words to come out harsh but instead they’re a quiet whisper and your expression softens.

It’s all he needs before his lips crash to yours and he slides his hands down to your ass, squeezing his way to the hem of your dress.

“I had to sit there and watch you present, the whole fucking time knowing you had nothing on under here.”

His touch is delicate as he spreads your legs and slides a finger through your folds, already wet and aching.

“I was sitting there hard as a rock just thinking about bending you over that table, tasting you, fucking you.”

Your fingers close around his biceps, the soft fabric of his suit jacket bulging under the strained muscles.

“Is that what you want?” he asks as his fingers continue to tease you.

“Yes,” you answer as you grab hold of his tie and bring his lips closer.

He kisses you, never touching you where you need it most and when he pulls away, he presses the elevator button, causing it to start moving again.

He removes his fingers and reaches up to straighten his tie and when the doors open, he backs out, his voice low and deep when he says, “I need to see you in my office. Immediately.”

He turns and glides from the elevator, his long strides carrying him quickly toward his office and you can’t do anything but follow.

@blackwidownat2814 @hiddles-rose @kmc1989 @goldylions @lizette50

[incognit0slut]

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

Behind Closed Doors 2

You welcome Spencer back to the team with a special gesture of your own—and find yourself falling even harder for him after he opens up to you.

Warnings: (18+ MDNI) sub older spence my beloved, handjob, oral (m), spit kink?, semi-public (they are FREAKY), and idk if we can call this angst but we get to know how he feels about returning to work ~3.9k words

A/n: I didn’t plan for a part two, but rewriting scenes with specific looks of him is growing on me. Also, this happens before Emily tells him to teach seminars on his leave. And tell me what you think!!

He looked good in pink.

That was an understatement, the man looked good in pretty much anything. But today? Something was different. Something looked different. His whole appearance seemed to be on point than usual. You noticed his typically tousled hair was styled and swept back, which was a very rare sight, and it was hard for you to look away.

“…as you have obviously heard, Dr. Spencer Reid has been fully reinstated,” Emily announced, snapping you back to reality. “Welcome back, Spence.”

“Whoo-hoo! Yes!” Penelope cheered, only to be met by Emily’s pointed look. “That’s not the end, is it?”

Your boss shook your head and then proceeded to continue with another announcement. You stole a glance towards him again.

Maybe it was just really his shirt that made him look good? It wasn't even overly tight, but snug enough to accentuate the lines of his broad shoulders. Has his shoulders always been that wide? Now that you think about it, he did seem to be putting on a little weight. Not that it was a bad thing, and not that you didn't like how he looked before, but you couldn't help noticing how he filled out his shirt, and for some reason, it was doing something to you. 

Probably more than something because now you wondered what other places he filled out.

A sudden round of applause filled the room, and you joined in, tearing your gaze away from him only to find Matt Simmons grinning at you. You looked away and followed everyone as they shuffled around the room, making sure to sit as far away from Spencer as possible, although luck wasn't on your side when Matt settled into the seat beside you.

"You don't seem too thrilled about me joining the team," he murmured, leaning in close.

“What do you mean? I’m always open to new faces around here.”

“Not as excited as having an old member back, though,” Matt remarked, prompting you to snap your head at him, a slight frown forming on your face. He winked teasingly, and you groaned, shoving his shoulder away. 

“Ugh, do not wink at me.”

His laughter filled the air, but it quickly faded as the atmosphere in the room turned serious. Penelope began briefing everyone on the new case, and you did your best to mask your grimace every time a gruesome picture flashed on the screen. By the time Emily called out, “Wheels up in thirty,” you rose from your seat.

To talk to him or not talk to him?

You weighed the pros and cons, sneaking a quick glance at Spencer, who was deeply absorbed in studying the case files. The logical part of your brain told you it wasn't the best time to strike up a conversation, especially with only thirty minutes left until you had to leave. But there was something about him, it felt almost instinctual, like you were naturally drawn to him, and like a magnetic force, you couldn't resist.

Oh, fuck it—you decided to approach him.

Taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you made your way over to where he was sitting, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

"Hi.”

"Hey," he greeted, looking up with a small smile at the corners of his lips. "What's up?"

“Can I talk to you for a moment?”

"Sure," Spencer replied, his expression curious yet amused. He set aside the files he had been studying and turned his attention fully to you.

“In private?”

There was a brief pause, and you swore you could practically cut the tension with a knife. Then, with a deliberate slowness, he rose from his seat, his gaze never wavering from yours. You tilted your head back to look at him as his presence seemed to fill the room,and you couldn't help but hold your breath as you waited for his response.

“Of course,” he finally agreed, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer before he turned, leading the way to a more secluded spot, past the bullpen, past the glass doors, and down the hallway.

Once you were both out of earshot, he leaned in. “How private are we talking about?”

You nudged his side before guiding him towards the nearest office. As you stepped inside, your heart pounded in your chest, and you quickly glanced around the room to make sure it was empty. When you confirmed it was unoccupied, you turned back to see Spencer closing the door behind him.

Then everything snapped.

You weren't sure who made the first move, whether it was you or both of you acting on instinct, but before you could process it, his lips were on yours, his arms pulling you close, tongue colliding with your own. You gasped at his eagerness and wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you as you pressed yourself against him.

With a boldness you didn’t know you possessed, you pushed him against the nearest wall, your hands tangling in his hair as his hands found their way to your ass, squeezing lightly. A soft moan escaped your lips and he responded by deepening the kiss further. It felt like time stood still as you lost yourself in the heat of his mouth against yours, until you finally pulled back, your lips brushing against his jaw.

“What…” He gasped when your mouth trailed lower. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I don’t know,” you groaned into his neck, his scent filling your senses. Why did he have to smell so good? “I think it’s your hair.”

“My… hair?”

You pulled back slightly, your fingers tracing along the collar of his shirt, your eyes roaming over the exposed skin of his chest where the top buttons were left undone. “Or maybe it’s the shirt.”

“My shirt?”

“Yes!” You half-exclaimed, half-whispered, trying to keep your voice down. “I think I’m ovulating and you’re not helping.”

Spencer's eyes widened in surprise, a flush creeping up his neck as he processed your words. "Oh," he managed to say. “I didn't expect that.”

"Sorry," you apologized, feeling your cheeks warm with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to—”

But before you could say anything else, his expression softened, and his grip on your hips tightened. "Hey, it's okay," he reassured you. “It’s common for women to experience changes in their hormones during ovulation. It's completely natural and nothing to be embarrassed about."

You looked up at him, your hands sliding down his chest. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “Yes, it’s just your body doing its thing,” he said reassuringly. "And honestly, it's kind of flattering to know that... I have that effect on you."

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as your palms drifted lower. “What else do you know about this stuff?”

“Well, around the time of ovulation, a woman's body produces more estrogen, which can increase libido—”

His breath hitched when his eyes fell on your hand resting over his pants.

“What?” you prompted, a playful glint in your eye. “Why did you stop?”

Spencer's cheeks flushed slightly as he met your gaze. "I, uh…” He cleared his throat. “I was just going to mention that… increased estrogen levels during ovulation can also lead to heightened sensitivity in erogenous zones—”

But his words trailed off into a sigh as you palmed his arousal over his pants, feeling the hardness beneath your touch. He was undeniably aroused, and the way he responded to your touch only fueled you even more. With a mischievous grin, you ran your palm up and down his length, feeling him throb in response before letting out a playful giggle.

You didn’t realize it would be this fun to be the one doing the teasing.

“Tell me more, Spence.”

He swallowed hard before managing to speak. "W-Well,” he stammered. "Increased estrogen levels can also... enhance blood flow to certain areas, leading to heightened sensitivity and... uh, increased pleasure—”

But before he could finish his sentence, you applied a little more pressure, causing him to let out a low groan of pleasure. His words faltered, his focus shifting entirely to the delicious sensation of your hand stroking him. Your eyes traveled down, watching the way his cock pressed against the fabric of his pants, noting how thick and hard he was. 

But as your gaze lingered, you caught sight of the time on your watch, and reality came crashing back in. You reluctantly pulled your hand away from him, and Spencer blinked at your sudden withdrawal, his desire-clouded mind trying to focus on you.

“What's wrong?” He whispered. “Why did you stop?”

“I… I kind of got carried away, I’m sorry," you noted. "We should probably get back before they start to wonder where we are."

He went still, and so did you. The room’s air conditioner hummed softly, filling the silence as you both simply stared at each other. When he didn’t respond, you slowly backed away and moved toward the door, but his grip on your arm stopped you. You turned towards him, eyebrows raised while he seemed to hesitate to say the next words.

After a moment, he sighed, his gaze softening as he finally found the words he was looking for.

“The other day, after we… you know,” he emphasized, and you nodded, urging him to continue. “I had to deal with this myself.”

His eyes flicked over the bulge in his pants and you stifled a laugh, amused at his sudden fluster. “Yeah, you said you were going to ignore it.”

“I didn’t,” he replied. “I couldn’t.”

“And?”

“And…” he hesitated, his gaze flickering away for a moment before meeting yours again.

There was a moment of silence until you realized what he was implying. You gasped, the hand he wasn’t holding covering your mouth in shock. “Here?” you asked in disbelief. “At work?”

His cheeks flushed, but he nodded sheepishly. “Yeah,” he admitted. “In the bathroom.”

“Spencer,” you exclaimed in a hushed tone, “That’s...”

“I know, I know,” he cut in, his tone self-deprecating. “But in my defense, it was all your fault.”

You giggled. “Me? I barely touched you!”

"Exactly, but it was enough to drive me crazy,” he said, and when he saw you laughing, he gave you a deadpanned look. “It’s not funny.”

“Oh come on, it kind of is.” You shook your head in amusement. “Why are you telling me this?”

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours. “Because I don’t want to leave this room and deal with it by myself again.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Is this your way of asking me to touch you?”

His eyes widened almost cartoonishly wide, the flush creeping up his cheeks contrasting against the paleness of his skin, making his reaction all the more apparent.

“Please?”

You couldn’t suppress the grin that tugged at your lips. “Spencer, we only have…” You glanced over your watch. “Fifteen minutes left.”

“I can probably finish in five.”

You bit your bottom lip. How did you end up in this predicament all over again? Although this time, you felt like you had the upper hand, and somehow, it was strangely exciting to see him so affected, to have him practically begging for your touch when you were supposed to be in a hurry.

He looked at you expectantly. How could you say no when his eyes were wide and pleading? 

“You know what?” You turned to him fully, taking a step forward. “I think you deserve it. It’s your first day back, after all.”

Before you could second guess yourself, you reached for him again. His breath hitched slightly as you undid his belt and slowly lowered the zipper of his pants. His arousal strained against the fabric and you briefly met his gaze. Without a word, you slid your hand inside his pants, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.

He felt full in your hand and painfully hard. When his response was nothing but his ragged breathing, you reached for the waistband of his briefs with your other hand, pulling down slightly until his cock was freed from its confines. 

“Spence, you’re so…” Your voice trailed off, eyes fixated on him. The tip was thick and bulbous, a deeper shade than the shaft where pulsing veins ran up the long length. You were mesmerized by his size; it wasn’t too big nor too small, just perfect.

“You’re so pretty.”

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment before he looked back at you. “You think so?”

You nodded, feeling the heat and the weight of him in your grasp. A droplet of wetness glistened on the tip, and unable to resist, your thumb brushed along it, earning a sharp intake of breath from him as his hips instinctively bucked against your touch. With a newfound confidence, you wrapped your hand around him, feeling his hardness pulsating against your palm. 

The skin was soft as you’d expected, warm to the touch, but his length was stiff and throbbing when you squeezed. If you stayed still, you were sure you could count his heartbeat. As your hand moved up and down tentatively, trying to take in every detail of his member, you couldn’t believe you were finally feeling each vein that bulged up his shaft.

“Do you mind if I spit on it?”

He let out a low groan, his head falling back against the wall. “No.”

“Really? Coming from someone who’s germaphobic?” You smiled amusedly. "I thought you'd be more concerned about hygiene."

"I'll make an exception for this."

You couldn't help but laugh at his response. Trusting your instincts, you craned your neck down and let the liquid spill from your mouth, coating his tip in a steady flow. Your saliva glistened in the light, slowly trickling down the length of his cock. Then you began to stroke him gently, you felt him respond eagerly, his breaths growing heavier and his hips rocking gently against your hand.

His head fell back against the wall, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “God, that feels…” 

Feeling a surge of pride at his reaction, you couldn’t resist teasing him further. “Is this how you touched yourself in the bathroom?”

He swallowed hard, his breath hitching as he met your gaze. 

“Were you thinking of me?” You pressed on. “Did you imagine me touching you like this?”

His response was barely a whisper, but you caught it. “Yes…”

His breath was warm against your face, and you looked up, taking in the way he was looking at you through half-lidded eyes, lips parted as soft moans slipped out of his mouth. Who would’ve thought he made the prettiest sounds? You knew he was trying to keep his voice down, but the sight of him struggling to suppress his pleasure only made it more thrilling.

“Or did you imagine me getting on my knees, taking you in my mouth?” you teased, your voice low and sultry as you traced your tongue along your bottom lip. “Did you picture yourself deep inside of me, how tight and wet I would be?”

His forehead dipped until it was resting against yours, breaking the self-control he was desperately trying to maintain. “Oh god—I-I can’t hold it any longer.”

Your response was simply to increase your speed, your fist moving in fast short strokes up his leaking cock. He was slick with arousal, and you focused your attention on the sensitive tip, prompting even louder sounds of pleasure from him.

“Wait—" he gripped your wrist, forcing you to stop. “I’m so close.”

You frowned, watching the conflict play out in his expression. "I thought you wanted this?"

“I know, it’s just—“ His brows furrowed, a hint of desperation in his eyes as he struggled to maintain control. Then, with a defeated sigh, he admitted, “I don’t want to make a mess.”

You scanned the room, your mind racing for a solution. The office offered no privacy, and there was nothing around to help clean up the mess he would definitely make, so you needed a different approach.

Without hesitation, you got down on your knees.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“You’re gonna—” he gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. “I can’t let you do that.”

“Shh,” you hushed, lightly hitting his thigh. “Just help me hold my hair up.”

He hesitated for a moment, but the desire in his eyes was undeniable. Slowly, he reached out, gathering your hair in his hands. You felt the warmth of his fingers against your scalp, his touch gentle yet firm. You leaned in, your mouth hovering just inches from his swollen tip as you glanced up, meeting his eyes one last time before you took him into your mouth.

The taste of him was intoxicating, and you could feel every twitch and throb as you wrapped your lips around him. His grip on your hair tightened, a guttural moan escaping his lips, your tongue swirling around his tip, tasting the salty bead of arousal that had formed there. His hips bucked involuntarily, and you took him deeper, jaw stretching wide as you struggled to get every inch of him inside your mouth while wrapping your hand around what was left.

You moved slowly at first, getting used to the feel of him in your mouth. It didn’t take long until your mouth was working in tandem with your hand, creating a rhythm that had his body shaking. The room was quickly filled with the sounds of his ragged breathing and soft moans, and you couldn’t believe this was actually happening. There you were, hiding behind an empty office with the potential of getting caught. 

But you didn’t care, nor did Spencer, as he held your hair and bucked his hips into your mouth. You could feel the tension building in him, his breaths coming in short, desperate gasps. He was so, so close, and you wanted to push him over the edge. You quickened your pace, your mouth moving up and down his length, hollowing your cheeks to create a tighter seal.

His moans grew louder, and you could tell he was struggling to keep quiet. “Please,” he whined, his voice strained. “I-I’m gonna…”

A choked gasp cut off his words as he reached his climax, his release hitting the back of your throat in hot, pulsing waves. You swallowed him down, savoring the taste of him, the warmth spreading through you as you looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. His expression was one of pure ecstasy, mixed with a hint of disbelief and awe.

As he slowly came down from his high, his grip on your hair loosened, and he gently helped you to your feet. "That was..." he trailed off, still catching his breath. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to. Besides, I think you deserved it,” you said before pointing a finger at him. “But we can’t keep doing this at work.”

He looked at you, amusement and disbelief dancing in his eyes as he adjusted his clothes. You could almost read his thoughts: you were the one who initiated this, not once, but twice. The first time might have been out of panic, but this time, it was all you.

“I’m serious,” you said, crossing your arms to emphasize your point. “Now that you’re back, we should keep a certain distance between us. No more sneaking around.”

He raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile curling at the corners of his mouth. But then you watched as his expression suddenly shifted, as if he remembered something and his smile turned into a frown followed by the furrow of his eyebrows.

“What? What’s wrong?”

He glanced at you, his hands sinking into the front pockets of his slacks. “I haven’t told this to anyone but… there’s a condition to my reinstatement.”

“What do you mean?” 

He took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours. “For every hundred days that I spend on the field, I’m required to take thirty days off.” 

You blinked, processing the information. “Wait, what? So you’re not fully back?”

“Technically I am, just not how I want it to be.”

You watched as his shoulders slightly fell. “You’re not happy about this, are you?”

“What am I supposed to do on my days off? A whole month of sitting around in my apartment doing nothing?”

You took a step closer, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “You’re not going to be sitting around doing nothing. Think of it as an opportunity. You can catch up on your reading, maybe even take a trip somewhere.”

He shook his head. “That’s not the same. I want to be out there, doing my job, helping people. It’s what I’m good at.”

“I know,” you said softly. “But you can’t give your best if you’re burnt out. These breaks could help you recharge, keep you sharp.”

He sighed, looking down at the floor. “I just feel like I’m being benched, like they don’t trust me fully.”

You tugged his arm, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Hey, they trust you. This is about keeping you safe. After everything you went through… Spence, you deserve this break. They just want to make sure you’re at your best every time you’re back in the field.”

When he didn’t seem to fully absorb your words, you pressed on.

“Think about it, you have so many options. You could pick up a new hobby, spend more time with your mom... or finally visit those places you’ve always talked about. Like that museum you mentioned before, what was it called again?”

His gaze softened as he listened to your suggestions. "The Smithsonian," he replied after a moment, a small smile playing on his lips. “I've always wanted to spend a whole day there without rushing.”

"Exactly! Now you'll have the time to do that."

He nodded slowly, the tension easing from his shoulders. "I guess you're right.”

“See? It’s all about perspective.”

His lips curved into a smile as you both fell into silence. Then, he studied you, his eyes scanning your features as if trying to decipher the thoughts swirling in your mind through the subtle shifts of your expression.

“Will you come with me?” 

Your heart skipped a beat, and your breath caught in your throat at the unexpected question.

“You want me to come with you to the museum?”

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice soft, almost quiet. "Will you?"

It was a simple question, but it held a weight that you couldn't ignore. You had spent plenty of time together, grabbing lunch, chatting at the coffee shop down the road. But this felt… different. More personal. More intimate.

And suddenly it came crashing to you. You were so absorbed in what was happening between you, the stolen kisses, the physical attraction, that you didn’t realize your friendship was never going to be the same again.

On one hand, the idea of spending more time alone with him was undeniably tempting, but the rational part of you wasn’t sure if it was the wisest thing to do. He was your friend, a good one at that, and getting emotionally involved with friends could either strengthen or strain the relationship.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you searched for the right words. But before you could answer him, both of your phones vibrated with a notification. You both looked at your own devices and read the message.

“We’re leaving now,” Spencer announced, shoving back his phone in his pocket. “We should go.”

You nodded slowly, your gaze lingering on the door for a moment longer before you turned towards him. “You know what? You should head out first. I need some time to myself.”

He furrowed his brows slightly. You could tell he wanted to ask more questions, but he didn’t press on. “You sure?”

“Yes,” you replied. “Just give me a minute and I’ll follow behind.”

His eyes lingered on you for another second before he nodded, offering you a small, reassuring smile. “Sure, I’ll save a seat for you.”

You returned his smile, though it felt more like a grimace as you watched him exit the room. The click of the door closing behind him seemed to echo in the sudden silence, leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts as the rush of emotions flooded over you. It felt as if you were standing at the edge of a precipice, unsure whether to leap or retreat.

With a deep breath, you pressed a hand to your chest, trying to calm the fluttering inside. But the truth was undeniable—you were falling for him, and you were falling fast.

[fallowfield]

i think i trust true crime youtubers more than any documentary because they don't bother covering up incompetence and federal disinterest in cases. like both will be talking about the same case where the victim is a sex worker and the documentary will say "the police immediately sprang into action" while the youtuber will explain in painstaking detail from what they could find from the victims' family and friends that they just waited around because the victim was a sex worker.

[fingertipsmp3]

I really think I’m going to have to get a new laptop this year because the thought of using my current laptop for anything makes me want to puke

[willow-moon-23]

German Shepherd and His Black Cat

Aaron Hotchner X Fem!Reader

Summary: The team gets a surprise when a woman storms out of Hotch's office after having an loud argument. When she keeps reappearing the team starts asking who she is.

Part 2

Word Count: 2044

The team stands around one of the desks staring at a motorcycle helmet placed on one of them. They had left for lunch not long ago and when they got back Hotch’s door was closed, there was a new object in the bullpen, and there was shouting coming from Hotch’s office. The first thing out of Morgan’s mouth when he walked in was asking if anyone knew about the motorcycle in the garage. No one knew who it belonged to.

After a very long tense shouting match, Hotch’s door flies open. In the doorway was a shorter woman with dark blue hair and in a leather jacket, combat boots, and dark make-up. “You don’t get to decide that for me, Aaron.” A woman storms out of the room, obviously mad. “It shouldn’t matter anyway.” She says, walking away from him.

“Yes, it does matter.” Hotch storms out of the room after her.

The woman turns back to him with a frustrated huff. “No, it doesn’t! You should already know my answer.” She shakes her head, walks down the steps, picks up the helmet by the front, and flips it to hold by the chin strap. “This conversation is getting nowhere. At this point, we are both just becoming irritable with each other, and it's making things worse. Call me when you have a level head, Aaron.”

She starts to walk away, but Hotch catches her arm. In less than a second and without looking at her hand, she flips her helmet so she's holding the chin and swings her arm back before she freezes. Hotch drops her arm, realizing what he did. There was a tense pause before a harsh shiver ran down her spine.

She bows her head and relaxes her entire body, her arm dropping lazily by her side. The heat dies from her voice as she speaks softly now. “Bad time to grab me like that, Aaron.” She lets out a harsh breath, shakes her head, then walks out the glass doors.

Hotch runs a harsh hand over his forehead as he watches her go. He turns to his team and sees all of them staring at him, eyes wide and all varying looks of concern.

“Hotch, did she almost swing at you?” Morgan speaks up first.

Hotch shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have grabbed her.”

“She almost swung at you!?” He reiterates.

“She wouldn’t have actually swung at me, but yes, she reacted to me grabbing her like she would have anyone else doing the same thing.” Hotch sighs and retreats to his office without another word to his team.

Once Hotch closed the door behind him, the team looked at each other, confused about what had just happened. None of them said anything for a minute before they all devolved into questions to each other to see if anyone knew who that woman was.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in the conference room working on a case they had taken the day before. All of the team, including Hotch, were scouring the files not being able to make any new connections.

Morgan, who was facing the window into the bullpen happened to look up at the sight of movement. “Uh, Hotch?”

“What?” Hotch looked up at him. Before Morgan could answer the door to the room opens and the woman from before was standing there. Hotch stood up to walk up to her. She wordlessly holds out a large file for him to take. As he reaches for it she pulls it back and levels him with a glare.

“I’m not doing this for her. Gods forbid I do something because I love you and want to see you succeed in your career.” Her tone was still flat with a hint of that anger from before. “I’m still pissed at you but that doesn’t mean I’m going to keep you from doing your job.” She places the file in his hand.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t. Thank. Me.” She interrupts him. “Just do your job and come home.” With that, she turns around and leaves. Before she closes the door, she leans back in. “And just for the record, I already refused her offer. I happen to like my current job.” She closes the door behind her and walks out of the bullpen for the second time that day.

“Did she just say she loves Hotch?” Prentiss asks.

“What offer?” Reid asks.

“Drop it.” Hotch says as he sits down and begins to go through the file she gave him. Prentiss raises her hands in surrender and they all go back to their file.

Later that evening, the whole team was getting ready to head out to confront the unsub after they made a connection through the files that Hotch was given. The glass doors to the bullpen open and the same woman walks through. She walks straight up to Hotch.

“Erin told me you would be going soon.” She reaches up and adjusts the strap of his vest. “Don’t make any unnecessary moves. Keep it clean and come back to me, ok.”

Hotch nods. “I will.”

She pulls the front of his vest so he leans down to her. “I mean it, Aaron.” She sighs. “After you get back, I’m expecting you and your team at the house. Don’t be late or I will come down here and drag you all to the house. Is that clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Hotch softly smiles at her.

She nods once. “Good.” she straightens up and fixes his hair once before looking him in the eyes. “Two hours.”

“Not a minute later.” Hotch finishes her sentence.

“You already have to make it up to me for this morning, better not make things worse for yourself.” She gently pushes his chest.

Hotch gently cups her cheek. “I promise to be home.”

She nods once and leans up and kisses his cheek before leaving.

“Okay, Hotch? Who is that!?” Morgan walks up to him.

“That would be my wife.” Hotch watches her get in the elevator.

“Your wife!?” Morgan glances back at her. “She looks like she could eat you alive!” He looks back at Rossi to see if he knows anything about this, Rossi shakes his head.

“She is definitely a force to be reckoned with when she’s mad. And when she's patient.” Hotch shakes his head. “Let’s go. We better make this quick.”

The arrest was quick, everyone was back at the office in less than an hour which meant Hotch had another half hour to complete his reports and head home with his team in tow.

“I hope you all are hungry.” He tells his team.

“Why?” Spencer asks.

“Because when (Y/N) gets upset with me she cooks, and she invited you all over. So I’m willing to bet there is a meal waiting for us.” Hotch pauses. “It also might be an apology for not properly introducing herself to you all because she was mad at me.”

“I’m still not over that that is his wife.” Prentiss glances at Morgan.

Hotch resists the urge to roll his eyes at her comment but motions toward the door. “We should get going. She should have everything ready by the time we get there.”

Hotch unlocks the front door and lets his team in the house. The second they walk in they are greeted by (Y/N) standing in the kitchen doorway wiping her hands. They all notice she's changed out of her riding gear and into something a bit more comfortable, a crop top and jeans. The team was surprised by many things about her, but most surprised by the amount of scars she had littering her midsection and close to her collarbone and shoulders. They also didn't expect to see a piercing with a small moon charm hanging from her belly button.

She gives them a small nod and waves them into the house. “Come in, I’m finishing everything now.” Her tone was short and slightly clipped.

Hotch walks over to her and kisses her temple. “Take it back a step, Colonel.”

She closes her eyes for a moment before looking at the team. Her voice is a touch softler now. “Apologies for my rudeness. I’m (Y/N). I actually have the upper hand in this situation, as I know who all of you are. It’s a pleasure to properly meet you all.”

“It’s nice to meet you as well,” JJ steps forward. “Did Hotch call you colonel?”

(Y/N) nods once. “Yes. I am a colonel in the military. I’m special forces.”

“Special forces?” Morgan asks.

“Yes. I assume your technical analysis tried to search for me earlier and found nothing?” (Y/N) raises an eyebrow at Penelope.

“How did you know?” she at least looked a little ashamed to be caught.

“My files are all hard copies, but the ones that are in the system are under lock and key and I get notified when someone tries to access them.” (Y/N) says flatly. “I can tell you more about me while we eat. Come, sit. I’ll have everything out in a moment.” (Y/N) walks back into the kitchen and leaves the team to follow Hotch to the dining room.

(Y/N) has the table set for everyone and as they all sit she brings out plates for each of them. They all thank her for the meal and begin digging in. As the meal goes on there is some lighthearted conversation before Morgan begins asking her more pointed questions.

“So how long have you two know each other?”

“Since we were kids,” (Y/N) answers after she takes a drink of her wine. “We were neighbors growing up.”

“When did you join the military?” Rossi asks.

“Right out of high school. Aaron didn’t want me to go but he knew there was no real stopping me.”

“How long have you two been married?” Prentiss jumps in.

“Three years. We decided to give ‘us’ a chance after I got back from a mission that nearly killed me. A few months after that we agreed we were both ready and married before I went back to base.”

“How does Jack feel about all of this?”

“Jack loves (Y/N).” Hotch jumps in. “He’s known her since he was born.”

“He’s the sweetest boy.” (Y/N) smiles softly. Penelope squeals at the comment. “My job doesn’t let me have a lot of moments a home lately. But you all know the hardships behind that. I’m just glad for the moments that I can be home with them.” She turns to Hotch with a gentle look.

The rest of the dinner was spent the same, the team asking her questions and her answering to her best ability. There were a few questions that she couldn’t answer because of safety concerns, but the team understood that and let it go in place of asking something else. By the time the team was satisfied with their questioning, it was well past sundown. Rossi was the first to leave, quickly followed by Reid. The other four stayed for another hour before leaving for their houses.

Hotch stood beside (Y/N) in their kitchen as she finished drying the dishes they had just done. Once she put the last bowl away Hotch gently took her hand and pulled her to face him. Her eyes softened when she faced him. Hotch pulled her close so he could wrap his arms around her.

“I’m glad they got to meet you.”

(Y/N) leans her head against his chest. “I’m glad it’s no longer a secret from them.”

Hotch runs a hand through her hair. “Agreed.”

She leans back to be able to look up at him. “I suppose the next meeting would be you and my team.”

“If you think that would be safe. I know you need the security more than I would.” Hotch looks down at her with a look of mostly concern for her safety, but with a hint of hope that he could finally meet the team she praises so much.

“Honestly, I have been thinking about it more now. After what happened on the last mission, I would want them to know you. To really know you, and not just know your name.”

“Ok, we can arrange a time to have them over.” He leans his forehead against hers.

“Ok. I’ll let my captain know.” (Y/N) grins. “The boys are going to have a field day with this.”

[soosavy69]

No refunds~

Sebastian x Fem! Reader

Minors DNI, This one's long but it does have smut in it. :)

Tw: Smut (obvi), crying, praise, slight degrading, cockwarming

Being forced to kill The Saboteur was not the situation you would expect to find yourself in. To put it simply, Sebastian was a huge pain in the ass for everyone at Urbanshade. From causing the lockdown to releasing all those monsters. That's why you were sent down to kill him.

The higher ups had disguised you as a prisoner, yearning for her freedom. They said you were a convincing actor, thus was the perfect woman for the job. Only armed with a gun, you made your way through the facility.

'This thing can't be that hard to kill.' You made your way through the doors, each step nervous. Strangely, no monsters appeared to try and kill you. Not even those wall dwellers the prisoners described. To be honest, you kinda felt bad for them.

Trapped in an eternal damnation, dying an infinite number of times before they succeeded. Seemed like hell to you. And if you truely being honest, you didn't wanna kill Sebastian either. An innocent guy convicted and experimented on. You had to find a way out of this.

You approached door '053' sliding the thin blue keycard into the slot. It slid open with a beep, and a light illuminated a small vent on the wall. Walking a few steps in, it flew open and slid into the abyss. "Stranger, over here." A deep voice called out to you. This had to be your target.

Army crawling your way through the vent was uncomfortable to say the least. It made you claustrophobic with all the dust. It obviously hadn't been cleaned in a while. You crawled out the other side a got up, coughing and dusting off your pants.

"Ah, fresh meat. Welcome! My name is Sebastian. Don't worry i'm not going to hurt you." He flicked on his angler light and smiled down at you, clasping his hands together. "I'm here to help you acutally. I've set up a shop for you. You can just pick the items off my tail." He pointed to the large sacks strapped to his snake tail, "As long as you have enough data of course."

You unzipped your suit silently and pulled out a small file. He smile never fading. You looked down and flipped it open, holding it up so both the page and Sebastian were visible. Perfect match. You put the file back.

You sigh and grap at your gun holster, slipping the weapon out of it's holder and aiming right between his eyes. But he didn't flinch. "No need to be hostile friend. I'm here to help." Your hands seemed shakey, mostly from being nervous. "I'm sorry, I have to do this. They're making me."

He looked down at the gun. "Hm, those bastards finally want me dead, hm?" You nod slowly. "Let me guess," He clears his throat and says in his best announcer voice, "Failure to terminate the target will result in immediate execution. Correct?" You nod again, your shakey hands make the gun feel like it's made of lead.

"You can put that down. It's not going to do much." He leans down and moves your aim with a hand. You flinch, closing your eyes. "I'm not going to kill you. And you don't want to kill me, right?" You open your eyes and meet his. "No..." You mumble.

He chuckles, "No need to be so scared hun. I'm not going to hurt you." You lower the gun and put it back in it's holster. "There we go." Two hands wrap around your waist and lift you up, bringing you on his lap. He gently rubs your back, the action soothing you more than you care to admit.

You sniffle quietly as tears start coming. And once they come, they don't stop. You lean into his chest and just sob. "I'm just... so scared." You whimper out. He nods, listening silently. "I-I don't want to die. But I don't want to kill you either." He removes your diving kit, and uses a screw driver to deactivate your RGP device. A hand comes to hold you against his chest as he undos his belts holding his supplies.

"I'll find a way for us to survive. I promise. But you'll have to wait. Those assholes can't kill you." He holds the device in a claw and smirks. You return his smirk with a soft smile. His other hand comes up and wipes your tears away. "There's just one thing you have to do for me. Okay?" You nod.

"I need supplies to sell to prisoners. However it is... difficult, to get those supplies because of my size. I would like you to go out and collect those items for me." He then holds your chin in his hand. "If your lucky, you may get a reward." Blush creeps up your cheeks from you shoulders, and you look away.

"What about the monsters?" He frowns lightly "They don't attack me because I freed them. It doesn't help that your wearing a prison uniform." He taps a claw on his chin in thought. "How about you show them the card I used? I still have it." His hand digs into his coat pocket and fishes out the card. "They will think that you helped. And thus won't kill you. Sound fair?"

You stare at the keycard and nod. "Okay." You swing your legs over and hop of him. "Go get em' tiger." He chuckles. You smile and crawl out of the vent. Standing back up and looking at the keycard, you notice little specs of blood overlaying the gold. You grimice and wipe of the blood with your suit.

'What the hell happened here?'

Your suit allowed you to carry a multitude of stuff without slowing your movements. Your footsteps echo around the hall as you make your way back to Sebastian. The door opens and then you see it. A shark with hundreds of green eyes. It's pull is intoxicating, your head seems to move on it's own, forcing you to look at the shark and you panic.

The card. The card! You fumble for it, putting a hand over your eyes. The shark's smile is engraved in your brain. You fish in your pocket and pull it out, showing it to the shark. The pull stops as soon as it came.

Bit by bit, your hand comes away from your face. "Oh. I'm sorry. I thought you were human. I thought you were here to hurt me again." A honey sweet voice rings out from beyond the glass. You gasp lightly. "I would never hurt you." The shark's smile widens.

"I like you. You are like Sebastian. Sorry for trying to hurt you." It's eyes scan over your features. "It's okay. What's your name?" You smile at her. "My name? I don't know... The scientists call me Eyefestation. You can call me that." You nod. "Okay. Bye." She smiles and swims away.

A shiver runs up your spine as you continue staring out the glass. Shaking your head and slapping your cheeks, you continue on back to Sebastian. Door '052' greets you in red writing and you smile, oddly looking foward to seeing the fish again.

You army crawl your way in the vent again and stand up, looking at his cyan eyes in the dark. "Ah. Your back. I was beginning to think you'd died or something." He pulls on the angler light, and it flickers on. It casts his face in a pretty warm glow, showing off his dark freckles.

You were basically gawking at him, looking over his pretty face. "You gonna get staring at me or are you going to show me what you got?" He chuckles. You shake your head again and empty your pockets of supplies. He peers down, crossing his arms. "Hm. Pretty good." You look up at him expectingly. "What, you want your reward?" He smiles, showing off his teeth.

You blush and look away, nodding slightly. He laughs. "Of course." Playfully rolling his eyes -at least to the best of his ability-. He gathers the supplies and places them on the shelves on the side of the room. "All right then. On your knees for me." You're taken aback slightly, but do as your told. "Good girl." He slithers behind you, putting a hand to your back and forcing you on all fours.

"Heh, you like this don't you? Dirty girl." You blush. The sound of rustling comes from behind you as he takes off his coat, folding it and laying it down infront of you. Your fingers brush over the leather and you smile faintly. "May I?" You feel his claw tap your suit.

"Mhm." You nod. "Good girl." He uses and hand to hold you flush against his pelvis, unzipping your suit. A white shirt and a bra lay underneath. He makes quick work of those, slipping off your shirt and unclipping your bra swiftly. His touch returns to your chest and he pinches your nipple, massaging your breast in his hand.

"Good girl." You whimper quietly and hold onto his arm. The heat from your cheeks spreads to between your legs. He leans you down on your arms, hand exploring your ass and clothed slit. "I need your permission sweetheart." He traces the elastic of your pants.

"Please." You whimper pathetically. "Such a good girl, begging for me." He pulls down your pants and underwear, letting them pool at your knees. He spreads open your folds and chuckles. "You really like this, hm?" You hide your face in your arms.

He smiles and starts rubbing your clit, circling the sensitive bud with a claw. Pleasure racks up your spine and you whimper. His touch is rough, pushing you into the floor. He slowly enters your hole, your walls clenching around him. "S-Seb." He groans. "Yes?" He draws out the word. "You like this?" You huff and moan into his jacket. a small 'mhm' is heard, muffled by the leather.

A second claw joins the first, and your back arches, your toes curling. Another hand grabs your waist as he speeds up his pace slightly. A knot forms in your belly, your moans becoming more audible to him. His pinky reaches lower and rubs your clit again, bringing you to your climax.

This one felt different however, more wet. You suddenly realized you were squirting on him. "You really must've liked that. Heh." He brings his finger to his mouth and sucks your slick off of them. "Delicious." He groans. He pant into the jacket and grip it tightly. "Tired already? We're not done sweetheart. After all... You did so good for me~"

You huff and he chuckles. His first hand retreats and is replaced by a writhing tentacle. He ruts against your clit and you whine. You feel his hot breath on your neck as he leans down, "You gonna take it like a good girl?" You nod. His cock adjusts, circling your hole. "Good girls get rewards."

He suddenly thrusts into you and your eyes roll back into your head. He spears you open on him, his other hand wraps around your chest and brings you flush to him. "Be nice and loud for me, okay?" He hilts inside of you and you whine. He pulls out slowly, the emptiness inside you slowly being filled by him. Just him.

His other hands come to the floor and he roughly thrusts back in, the lewd slap of his pelvis on your ass making you blush more. "There we go. Just let go for me, hm?" You moan pathetically into his grip. His cock hitting all the right spots inside of you. "So tight for me. All for me." He growls in your ear and you cry out.

Your slick coats him, making it easier for him to slide in and out of you. He groans, claws scrapping against the floor. His tail slaps against wall with a large thump. You look over but he redirects your gaze, using a hand to make you look at him. "Eyes on me sweetheart." He huffs out.

His cocks spurts a bit and you clench around him. "So good. Such a good girl." He rambles and trails down to your neck, biting down hard with his sharp teeth. Your mouth drops open in a silent cry. He pushes you back onto him roughly, his cock reaching the spot that makes you scream. Your orgasm washings over you with deafening force.

"Hn. Almost there. You're doing so good." Overstimulation crashing down on you suddenly and you fall limp onto the floor. He growls and pushes into you, filling you completely. It's quiet for a bit, the only sound being your whimpers and pants mixed with his.

He shifts a bit and rests against the wall, lifting you up and twisting you around. You're set down on his cock again and moan. "Seb-" He leans down and kisses you, his tongue filling your mouth. You moan against him and he pulls away. "Shh darling, no need to say anything." His signature smirk returns and you smile.

"There we go. Good girl." Exhaustion creeps up on you, sleep pulling you deep into it's clutches. "Sleepy? Go ahead." He grabs his jacket and lays it over you, the warmth pulling you into a deep sleep.

Raugh. Finally done. Sorry if it's shit. I'm tired. :P



[hotchfiles]

“ DOOMED ー +18, mdni

ー aaron hotchner x fem!BAU!reader.

ー summary: three times he tells you he's leaving haley and the one time he does it.

ー content: angst, cheating, allusions to sex, crude words, ooc!hotch in the sense he would not be a cheater. NO HAPPY ENDING.

ー w/c: 1.4k

ー a/n: pain, cheating and guilt are my favorite emotions.

This is not a love story. But it began with shared cigarettes and a confession.

I - COME SHOVE ME OVER THE EDGE

"I think Haley is cheating on me." He's not looking at you as he says it, eyes on his feet as he takes a particularly long drag of his cigarette ー one of yours he asked for, you didn't even know he smoked until that very moment, but the way he held the white poison between his fingers and let only part of the smoke leave his nostrils showed you it wasn't his first time.

It's good he isn't looking as you aren't able to mask how wide your eyes opened, completely shocked at first, but it isn't the shock you wished to mask, the following shrug of your shoulders was the bad reaction to such confession. It shocked you because Haley was obviously in love with the man by your side, but then ー it made sense. Loneliness is a powerful motivator for the vastest of actions. And working with Hotch it was easy to see Haley was lonely.

"Complete silence wasn’t the reaction I was expecting."

"And what were you expecting?"

"Not entirely sure. Empathy? Pity?"

You grin to yourself more than to him, if he wanted one of those, he would've gone to one of the other girls. "Don't feel those when I see consequences catching up to the actions deserving of them." Hadn't he complained about your silence you wouldn't be so blunt. But it was almost like he was teasing you, hoping you would bite back.

You hear the air come out of his nose and he coughs part of the smoke he was about to inhale, surprised but amused at your response. Truth be told, part of him needed that, needed some sort of punishment, or so he felt. It's why he went to the roof after you to smoke, and not Emily.

"I think I'm gonna file for divorce," he says after some minutes of silence, watching as you put your cigarette out by throwing it on the floor and stepping on it.

"That's probably wise." It's a short reply to end a short conversation ー one you didn't really wanna participate in. You and Hotch aren't friends. He's your boss. Has been for six months, and by now you made it obvious to everyone that you enjoyed being alone and treating the job as what it is: A job.

As a young new female agent, fresh out of the academy you were designated to the white collar division. It wasn't as physically dangerous, but there you were forced to shut others out, the competitiveness and misogyny made it impossible to have them as family.

The BAU is different, but old habits die hard, especially the ones you gathered as protection.

II - YOU KNOW THAT I'M IN LOVE WITH THE MESS

Aaron teases you, breathless telling you he melted your icy heart, you let him know your heart is as icy as three months ago.

His fingers grip on your hips with much more strenght than before, it hurts in the best way and you know there will be red marks there in the morning as a treat and reminder. He uses the newfound support to thrust up into you, setting a new pace, faster, relentless, no warning.

You can't react any other way, a loud moan escaping your lips as your nails sink into the skin of his shoulders, a muttered curse leaves his just before a smirk is plastered on his face, amused at your pleasure.

"Sounds melted to me." 

Replying to that is useless, so you don't. Enjoying the feeling of his body against yours and him throbbing inside of you holds more importance than protecting your ego.

You brought him home, the sanctity of your bed now tainted by your sins, so he wasn't wrong, he was melting your heart, finding a place for him there in the depths of your soul in the past three months.

It started slow, you aren't sure if it was his intention all along, following you every time you took your smoking break, buying your cigarette brand and giving it to you as a thank you for sharing it with him, buying you coffee and talking to you. But most of all, enjoying the silence with you.

A month in he offers you a ride home, lips to yours as soon as the car reaches your street. You couldn't wait, neither could he. Fucking in the car was never comfortable, but it was hot, the look on his face when you left the car after you both came, saying goodbye instead of inviting him inside was completely worth it.

In the daze of your desire you didn't even notice his wedding band intact on his finger. It became more apparent with time, so much so he began taking it off before meeting you in hotels. He thinks he does it for your sake, but you know it's actually for his own.

He feels guilty. You wouldn't like him as much if he didn't. But it would make things easier if he didn't have reason to be feeling that way.

"I talked to a lawyer last week." He gets sappy after sex, hands caressing your body with feather-like touches, promises made in loving tones you pretend not to hear. You know your place too well to show how easily swayed you are by him. You hum in reply, nodding into his naked chest. "I'll just wait for Jack's birthday to pass, I want to spend one last birthday without the weight of the divorce. Then I am all yours."

You try not to care, but you do. And worse than that, you believe him.

III - WHEN IT RAINS IT FUCKING POURS

You are angry and embarrassed, but mostly you just feel so humiliated it physically hurts both your head and your heart. Alone in a conference room, all you can do is think and relive how stupid the situation was and estipulate about what everyone was thinking about you.

A nice good-looking cop flirted with you, and you weren't bothered by it, you even flirted back lightly, nothing serious about it and it wouldn't come to anything, you weren't looking to date anyone. It was innocent and you are single.

Aaron didn't see it that way. Made a huge deal of it, told you and the guy off for not paying attention to the case and the way he looked at you... Your colleagues are profilers, the deal was to act normally, and now you know they know it.

It's not like you're the type to care too much about societal morals but the newest team member that doesn't open up ends up sleeping with the boss. No need for any profile course to know the type of assumptions to be made.

You may not care about much, but you care about your job and being seen as less than capable for taking your boss' cock every other day was not in your plans.

You can't even make a scene. Morally wrong women helping men cheat don't get to make a scene.

You get to wallow alone. That's your prize.

That and an explanation text as you won't be alone with the other for a while in favor of professionalism.

I'm sorry. l got overly jealous.

It's hard seeing you smile like that at someone else.

But soon it'll be just us and when you're officially mine everyone will know it.

Everyone will know it. You can only scoff at that. As if his jealousy fit masked as concern for the case wasn't enough for your team of profilers. Everyone knew now. No going back. From ice queen to office whore in a blink, all for a man who has been promising to leave his wife for almost an year now with no actions to keep such promise, nothing to prove his intentions but your trust to his words.

IV - NOT WORTH SAVING IT

You are on your annual leave when he finally does it, signs the papers Haley served him. The fact she was the one to file should be clue enough, but it took the excruciating knowledge of how long it was taking him to sign the damn thing to snap you out of his grasp.

It's just a coincidence, a bitter one to him at that, that Strauss handed your transfer papers and substitutes' files on the same day he signed and mailed back his divorce papers.

He tries to call you, goes to your house but traveling for your AL was your plan for that reason. You didn't want to talk, didn't want his honey-dipped words and warm hands to blur your good sense.

It's done. You are done. There's no way back, you were doomed from the start.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally Getting Help (pt 13)

Masterpost

Danny was holding Jason’s hand so tight he felt like his fingers were creaking but Jason wasn’t about to say anything. They were waiting in the doctor's office for Danny’s first ultrasound and Jason was accompanying him as promised, if Danny needed to squeeze his hand that was what Danny needed to do then so be it, it was better the bolting, which it looked like he was considering. Leslie didn’t usually make people wait long but when she had an emergency she had an emergency, it didn’t matter that Bruce funded her clinic, and was sitting awkwardly in one corner, they could wait.

It had been decided that as Danny’s guardian and maybe boyfriend? Bruce and Jason would be the ones to go in with him, with Danny’s agreement of course. Jazz and Dick had both wanted to come too but they didn’t want to crowd the room or overwhelm Danny so it was decided they would stay close by but not come In. Just then they were waiting together at a cafe across the road in case they were needed.

“Alright, I’m sorry to keep you both waiting but you know how Gotham is,” Leslie said a little grim-faced and still stripping off bloody gloves as she walked into their room and tossed them into the trash can. “So, Danny right,” Danny nodded. “Will you come with me into a private room for your examination?” She asked, because of course she did, the phrasing too was carefully worded to not put him on the spot so if Danny was feeling at all threatened or uncomfortable about Jason and Bruce being there he wouldn’t be blamed for following her. 

“You don’t have to,” She added quickly when Danny looked panicked and clung to Jason so tight Jason couldn’t help wincing. “We can move forward with the appointment if them being here makes you more comfortable?” 

Danny nodded quickly so she nodded as well and sat down at her desk, opening a file on her computer. “So, you’re here for an ultrasound right?” She glanced over and Danny nodded again, he seemed to be feeling really shy, Jason had never seen him so nervous, Bruce looked worried. “But it says here you haven’t had a check up in years so would you mind if we do a general exam first? I would like to make sure that You are healthy before we move on to the babies.”

“Yes that’s fine, but you know I’m not fully human right?” Danny asked, she paused for barely a moment. 

“I was told you had some differences,” she confirmed gingerly. “What should I expect?”

“Well, my heart rate is naturally slower than it used to be, and my body temperature is lower. Like I get to ‘healthy human’ temperatures when I have a bad fever. I don’t know what else has changed, honestly. I’ve been avoiding the doctor ever since my accident because I knew how my parents would react,” he said sounding tired and resigned.

“Well then we’ll take today as a paceline and monitor changes. If you’re feeling well today?” She suggested, she probably would have liked to get a baseline before Danny was pregnant but obviously that was impossible. 

“Ya that’s fine, my heartrate is probably a bit fast because I’m nervous but I’m probably healthier then I’ve been in a while. I haven’t been getting into fights and I’ve been eating regularly after all!”

“Alright. I understand but there’s no need to be nervous. This is a safe environment, I won’t do anything that’s not medically necessary.”

“I know, if Bruce and Jason didn’t speak so highly of you I wouldn’t be here. They don’t seem to see eye to eye on much so if they both trust and like you you must be good,” Danny said with a little smile though he was still tense and pale. That anxiety wasn’t going anywhere fast. In the corner Brace gave a sort of strangled cough that had Jason glaring at him even though he didn’t really know what it meant.

“Alright, then let’s get started,” She said before she started Danny’s check-up, all of the normal things a doctor would do if a bit more thorough. Checking eyes, mouth, ears, heart and lungs, and reflexes, circulation and blood pressure. His heartbeat was slow and his blood pressure was low but Danny thought that was probably normal for him? She gave an unconvinced hum. “We’ll have weekly check ups and check it again then. If it’s sustained and doesn’t affect you then we can say it’s normal for you.” She agreed. 

“Alright, well based on the information you’ve told me I think we’ve established a baseline and you’re healthy. Are you ready for your ultrasound?” She asked and Danny took a deep breath, Jason, still standing next to Danny, squeezed his hand gently.

“Ya, as ready as I’ll ever be,” Danny agreed. 

“Thank you, just lay back and pull up your shirt please,” Dr. Leslie requested and Danny did as she’d asked as she pulled up the little monitor and set things up. In the background Bruce shifted so he could see the screen better. “There won’t be much to see,” Leslie warned, shooting Bruce a look as she applied the ultrasound gel. “It’s still too early.”

She put on a fresh pair of gloves and grabbed the wand, “Alright, let's have a look.” She said, pressing it carefully against Danny’s stomach. 

Danny had let go of Jason’s hand while he lay down but now he grabbed around for Jason again, without looking away from the screen now showing inside his abdomen. Jason stepped closer and grabbed Danny’s hand, looking at his face rather than anything else, monitoring for signs the trepidation there might be getting to be too much. He knew Danny was nervous, but they didn’t want this to progress into a panic attack. 

“There they are. Oh! Two, twins. You’re further along than I expected, 10 weeks by the looks of it?” She asked glancing at Danny who nodded. 

“Ya, I’ve only been carrying them for 6 but they’re test tube babies,” he confirmed, his eyes fixed on the screen. 

“Ah,” She sounded, nodding her understanding. “The little round things below their hearts are odd. Do they have two hearts? No, those ones aren’t beating…”

“Those are their cores,” Danny murmured before it seemed to hit him and he looked at Jason, his eyes wide with panic. “Oh my god I AM actually pregnant, it’s not just the cores, I’m pregnant, oh my god I’m pregnant,” he was starting to hyperventilate. 

Dr. Leslie pulled back and Danny practically threw himself into Jason’s arm who held him tight as Danny hid against his chest and trembled. “Do you want us to call Jazz?” Jason offered softly as he held Danny and let him cry.

“No don’t go,” Danny hiccuped against Jason’s chest. 

“I’ll call Jazz,” Bruce added, of course. He would want to help, he did care, but he never had any actual idea how to help. The emotionally unavailable bastard. 

“Do you want me to leave?” Dr. Leslie asked gently. “I would like to have a better look at the twins to check on their development but if you need time I can come back later, or even another day.”

“Just-just give me a minute, please,” Danny sniffled as Jason rubbed his back.

“Of course. I know this is overwhelming,” Leslie said gently. 

Jazz barged into the room and immediately hugged Danny a well, sandwiched safely between her and Jason. “Scruff him, it’ll help,” she told Jason, who nodded and squeezed the back of Danny’s neck. 

He shuddered and then started to relax between the two of them, basically letting the two taller, and trusted, people hold him up. His sobs turned into sniffles and then a few deep breaths. “Okay, okay I think I’m ready. I want to know that they’re okay too. I know their cores are developing well but if they have human bodies, we need to make sure those are healthy too right?” 

“Right. Do you want me to stay, or do you want Bruce to come back in?” Jazz asked gently. 

“No, you and Jason stay please,” Danny said softly. He had thought it was right for Bruce to come in as his guardian, but it was Jazz who had really been looking after him for years. “There’s not much to see right now, just little blobs. We’ll tell him how it goes.”

Danny took another breath and then squirmed out of both of their arms and went to lay back on the table, pulling up his shirt again. Jason stood next to the examination table, taking Danny’s hand again, Jazz went and sat on the table by Danny’s head and stroked his hair while Dr. Leslie applied fresh jelly to his stomach since it had been worn off during his panic attack. Jason might have to change his shirt after this.

“Alright, let’s have another look shall we?” She said with a warm smile as she pressed the wand against his stomach again. She found the babies again fairly easily. “They seem to be sticking pretty close together,” She said with a little smile. “They’re active little things! It’s far too early to tell anything else about them but from what you’ve told me they seem to be on track and developing properly,” She said, pulling back and offering Danny a cloth to clean the gel off his stomach.

“Do you mind if we call Bruce back in? As your guardian I’d like him to be here for you treatment plan?” She asked.

“Sure, makes sense,” Danny agreed with a nod. 

She nodded back and looked at Jazz, who nodded as well and ducked out to get Bruce. “While we’re mostly alone I want to know, do you know all your options Danny? You know you don’t have to carry them. They’re just embryos right now, not even conscious. Your health and safety comes first,” Dr. Leslie told him gently. She knew Jason was firmly pro-choice.

“No, I know,” Danny said with a little smile and a nod, looking down at his stomach and gently caressing it. “I know I don’t Have to do this. But I do want them. I’m already attached to them, you know?” He said looking up at her, worried that she would judge him. He hoped he was making the right choice, that he wasn’t ruining his life at 16 or something. Fuck he could be on that trashy tv show! 

“I understand,” She assured, no hint of judgment on her face. Of course not, if she could treat rogues without judgment she sure as hell wasn’t going to judge a teen parent. She glanced up as the door opened again and Bruce and Jazz entered. “Right,” Leslie said, sitting down at her computer and starting to type. “You’re still a little malnourished so I’d like to get you taking prenatal vitamins immediately,” she said, glancing up to see Danny nod. “With your unique condition I’d like to see you more often than usual, weekly visits would be best for now. Once we’re sure you and the babies are okay we can go down to every other week.”

“I don’t think we need to do that,” Danny said, shifting nervously. “I mean you say the human side is looking good, and my ghost doctor says they’re developing well on that side, if slower than usual. I don’t need to come in every week,” He said looking hopeful. 

She hesitated for a moment, organizing her thoughts and considering his words. “Even so, there’s clearly some bleed over that makes it hard to tell how healthy you are. I would feel better if you came weekly, at least for the first month so we can establish a true baseline.” 

“Alright,” Danny said, drooping again, looking back at Bruce. “Can you make the appointment? I want to go home.”

“Sure Danny,” Bruce agreed, pulling out his planner to check their schedule. 

“I’ll take you back to the manor,” Jason assured, using his grip on Danny’s hand to help him up. 

“I’ll go back to the cafe with Dick, we were having a good conversation, I wouldn’t mind continuing it,” She said, giving Danny a smile. “Unless you want me to come?”

“No, that’s alright. Have fun Jazz,” Danny said, leaning against Jason and letting him usher Danny out of the clinic. Jazz waved as she crossed to the cafe where Dick was waiting, looking worried till he noticed them, then he smiled and waved. Jazz waved back and jogged across, about to tell Dick all about the twins no doubt. 

Jason led Danny to his bike, and got on first, pulling Danny onto the seat behind him. Danny wrapped his arms around Jason and pressed against his back, half hiding from the world. Jason didn’t try to talk to him, he needed time to process. He would talk when he was ready to.

Next