#mobster!Spencer

[windspeaking]

(parody of this post)

there are at least 2 leverage/aftg parodies on ao3 and yet afaik none of them have gone the objectively funniest route wherein the last third of the series goes entirely off the rails because Leverage were halfway through taking down the Moriyamas and happen to already be involved with the whole operation when Neil is dragged back in

[burned-lariat]

Spencer could have been a bit more smoother in his presentation of the doves. He handed it to her as if it wasn’t a gift.

He really needs to get his priorities straight, oh my God 😩

[temporarywelcome]

Smooth Criminal - Spencer Reid

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: Spencer has been extremely secretive about his girlfriend of the past year, so much so that even Garcia can't find information on her. Till today, and her.... interesting ...past leaves everyone flabbergasted.

Warnings: light swearing

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

Spencer’s had a girlfriend.

In fact, he’s had a girlfriend for almost a year at this point and she has not met his friends even once. He was so secretive with this girlfriend that the rest of the BAU couldn’t get any information about her. Not even a name, leaving Garcia in anguish. 

Everyone was dying to know about this mystery girl that has taken up most of the boy genius’ free time. 

And finally, Garcia cracked the code. 

As the team walked down the halls of work towards the exit, all exhausted and ready to go home, Morgan asked if Spencer had needed a ride.

“It’s pretty late to take a taxi,” Morgan had said. Everyone knows Reid barely drives for whatever reason. He frequently took taxis or carpooled.

Reid just shook his head, “It’s fine, thank you.” 

And that was that.

However, Garcia didn’t remember seeing him flag down a taxi. She didn’t remember seeing him walk off into the night.

And so she found herself in front of her computer typing away, already having a feeling as to how Reid left the office. She could get in trouble for this…

If she got caught.

But she won’t, because she’s Penelope Garcia,the most amazing tech analyst to grace the Earth. 

And there it was. 

She watched the camera footage of the parking garage, following Spencer’s movements of the night before, camera to camera. She followed him, until he stopped next to a car, opening the passenger side and getting in.

Then the car drove off.

Someone drove into the parking lot with the intention of picking up Spencer. And she was pretty sure she knew who. Especially because this didn’t seem like a random occurrence. Going back a few weeks (she really needed a hobby it seemed), she found this car would pick Spencer up quite frequently. 

So she tracked the license plate, finally finding the name of this mystery woman. Y/N L/N. And that’s when Garcia fell down the rabbit hole…

That same day, Morgan stood in front of Spencer’s desk, arms crossed with an annoying smirk on his face. He obviously had something to say. 

“Morgan, I feel you hovering,” Spencer muttered, closing the manila folder on his desk and looking up at his colleague. “What is it?”

“So… what are you doing after work? Wanna get some beers?”

“No thanks, I have plans already.”

“Oh, yeah? With who?” 

“With-” Spencer’s eyes narrowed at Morgan in suspicion, “Why are you asking?”

“Answering a question with a question, huh?” Morgan chuckled, “C’mon, Reid, are you going to be with your little girlfriend?” 

“She’s quite tall actually,” 

“You know what I mean,” he turned to walk away, “Have fun with Y/N, pretty boy,” 

“What the f-” Reid gasped as Morgan stalked off, “How do you know her name?!” 

Morgan ignored his question, Rossi coming at him next to bother him. 

Straight from Garcia’s computer-adorned office. 

“A criminal, Reid?” Rossi exclaimed, slapping a file down onto his desk.

“Garcia told you?!” Spencer groaned, head going into his hands. “I can’t have any privacy?”

“Hey, look at me!” Rossi was completely appalled by the information he had found, “You’re an FBI agent! Dating a criminal!”

“Weren’t you a mobster or are we just going to forget that…?” JJ grumbled from her own desk, averting her gaze when Rossi shot her a look. 

Spencer dropped his hands from his face, “Rossi, look-”

“I bet that’s why you’ve been so secretive,” Dave concluded, “Because you knew Garcia would find out about your felon girlfriend. Look, she even gave me printouts,” He gestured to the file he threw onto Spencer’s desk. 

“She did petty crimes,” Spencer scoffed in defense of his girlfriend. 

“She robbed people for sport. Her mother was wealthy. Her father was a cop.” 

“Daughter of a cop, girlfriend of an FBI agent, and a robber? Interesting,” Prentiss joined the interrogation. 

“Where did you come from…” Spencer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “She didn’t do it for sport. She just… well…”

“She’s a diagnosed kleptomaniac,” Rossi opened the file and pulled out a document of proof, “Now how the hell did you manage to date a kleptomaniac?”

Spencer opened his mouth to answer, but Prentiss answered for him, “They knew each other in high school back in Vegas,” she said, looking through the folder for the information Garcia told her. 

“Yes,” Spencer grumbled, “She was a freshman when I was a senior.”

“When you were twelve?” Rossi deadpanned. 

“Yes,” he repeated, “She actually helped me a lot with bullies.” he cleared his throat awkwardly, “She stole a lot of their things…” 

“And you find that attractive?” Rossi asked. 

“No, I didn’t find anything attractive when I was twelve,” Spencer shot back, “I only knew her for that one year before I graduated and left. We reconnected last year and-”

“Ah, yes, two years after she had to be bailed out of jail for stealing from a gas station.” said Rossi, “Not even a good crime,”

“What would constitute for a good crime?” Prentiss wondered out loud.

“A bank or something.” Rossi replied, “Anyway-”

“I mean she did rob a bank before-” Spencer paused, then clamped his mouth shut. 

Rossi and Prentiss exchanged glances, before making eye contact with JJ as well, who was now interested in the conversation. 

“She what” it didn’t even sound like a question coming out of Rossi’s mouth. 

Spencer quickly went to his girlfriend’s defense, “Not at gunpoint or anything! She just, uh, worked at the bank.”

“Jesus Christ,” Prentiss whistled, “Now this is intriguing,”

“I do not wish to speak about my girlfriend’s crimes anymore,” 

“Well we do,” Rossi grumbled, “So I’m assuming she hasn’t committed any more crimes?”

Spencer’s silence made Dave and Emily’s eyes widen. 

“You’re dating a current criminal-?” Emily began.

“Okay, look,” At this point, Spencer just wanted to leave and see his girlfriend, “Due to suffering from her kleptomania, her desire to steal is uncontrollable. Even when we met, she would constantly steal but return the object without the person knowing. I’ll admit, some of the robberies I’ve been… informed about, seem like they were more for fun, but that’s in the past, yeah?” 

“Yeah…” Emily wasn’t sure she should be convinced. 

“Yeah. Okay, I’m leaving now.” Spencer stood up, eyeing the file in Rossi’s hand, “And can you please get rid of that?”

“Well, can we meet her?” JJ asked from her desk, standing as well, “I didn’t stalk her like everyone else, but I’m still intrigued.”

“Thank you for being normal, JJ,” Spencer sighed, grabbing his bag.

Garcia burst out of her office, a devious look on her face, “Just looked at the cameras… A certain car is here waiting for Reid.” 

Spencer muttered under his breath as he sped off, already hearing footsteps following. He could hear Garcia tell Y/N’s whole life story to the group of Rossi, Prentiss, JJ, and Morgan who rejoined the group. 

“She’s a dancer in a big theatre a few cities over,” Garcia babbled, “They just finished Swan Lake. She Odette and everything! Oh and…”

Jesus Christ. 

“...and the last thing I found was that she used to run a Girls’ Generation blog,” Garcia finished.

“What’s that?” Morgan asked. 

“Girl group. She really likes Jessica, but she left or got kicked out or something. I learned so much girl group lore today.” 

“I also like Jessica’s sister, Krystal. She’s in a different group though,”

The team all froze, heads snapping comically at the same time to the owner of the voice. Y/N, the kleptomaniac that has somehow stolen Spencer Reid’s heart. She was leaning against her fancy car (Rossi pondered if it were stolen). 

“I had a blog for that group too,” she added, grinning at Garcia. She held out her arms, Reid shyly shuffling into her embrace. “But, well, I’d like to not remember either blog,” she whispered a ‘hey baby’ to Spencer, who mumbled something back, clearly embarrassed. 

“Um,” he cleared his throat, “Y/N, this is my team. Well, most of the team. Hotch isn’t here, thank God,” 

Y/N laughed, “They’ve been bothering you, baby? I’m guessing Penelope was the one who found out about me…” she scanned the small group and gestured towards Garcia, “You,” faced the others, “You’re Derek Morgan… Jennifer J… I’m not gonna lie, I can’t pronounce your last name-” JJ raised a brow. “-Emily Prentiss, and David Rossi.” she pointed out each agent before eyeing Garcia again, “You’re not the only stalker.” 

“Can we go now?” Spencer muttered, face already red, “I’m tired,” 

“Yeah, of course,” Y/N nodded. She looked at the team again, “It seems I’ve become a chauffeur, as this princess does not like to drive.” 

“Yeah, I’m gone,” Spencer grumbled, getting into the passenger seat.

“Oh, he so hates us now,” Morgan chuckled. 

Y/N shook her head, “Nah, he loves you guys. Well, as you all know, I’m Y/N,” She held out a hand to shake, politely shaking each member’s hand. “Should get going before said princess gets cranky,” She turned, heading back to the driver’s seat. “Oh yeah, Dave?” she looked over her shoulder and tossed a pair of keys at Rossi, who caught them.

His keys.

“Sorry,” she got into the car and drove off. 

“Kleptomaniac,” he said in awe, “She’s fast.”

“Didn’t even notice,” Emily agreed, watching the car as it created distance. 

“I don’t know how I feel about her,” JJ muttered, biting her lip, “I mean, is my name really that hard to pronounce?”

“Not at all,” said Garcia, “Spell, maybe,” 

_________________________

Once Y/N got back into the car, she noticed Spencer had turned off the music she had playing. “Um, Jessica was speaking,” she said jokingly.

He glanced at her, “Tell Jessica I apologize,” he said dryly. She was sure his team thought he was such a sweetheart, but damn, he gets cranky. Perhaps he saves that specially for her. 

“I’m guessing they saw my… record?”

“Mhm, Garcia made printouts,” 

“Ah, so they know about the bank incident…”

“One of them.”

“It won’t take long for them to find out about the other incidents,” she laughed. 

Spencer groaned, “I’m never going to hear the end of it… Now why did I decide dating a kleptomaniac was okay?”

Y/N just grinned, “Cuz I’m a smooth criminal, huh?” 

“Corny,” he grumbled, but the corners of his lips curled up. 

“Annie are you okay… are you okay…” Y/N trailed off, not knowing the lyrics. 

Spencer giggled like a kid; only she made him feel that way, “I don’t think Michael Jackson would appreciate that cover,”

“I don’t think Jessica would appreciate being silenced,” Y/N reached out, raising the volume of the music a tiny bit.

“Must we always speak of this woman as if we know her personally?” 

“Yes,”

--------

check out my pinned post for requests :)

[simp-ly-writes]

Breaking Character

─────── · · A Smosh Fanfic

Pairing: Gentleman!Boyfriend!Spencer Agnew x gn!Partner!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: You try your hardest to beat Gentleman Spencer at his own game of saying increasingly outlandish comments while trying to get him to break character!

─ · · TAGS: gender-neutral pronouns, part social-media au, established relationship, fluff, suggestive themes, attempt at humour.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 1,736

─ · · A/N: Asks are closed for a little while but that you to this amazing ask was from an anon! 🫶

─────── · ·

"Hello all you lovely watchers behind the screen, now I would usually save such corse words for the bedroom but you all appear lucky at the games table tonight," you cast a smile and wink towards the camera. Adjusting your wig before taking a drag out of your long fake cigarette. Your goal today was to get your boyfriend, Spencer, to break Character today in a video.

"As you can see, I am joined by a handful of my friends, especially this special friend beside me, remind me of your name again, dear?" you ask with a slight tilt to your head as you eye Spencer form his top hat down to his suspenders.

Spencer tries to hold your look before breaking under your stare, instead turning his back to you and turning fully towards the camera. "Good-day to you all, I am a gentleman here to play quite the crass game. Monopoly: Cheaters Addition, now I believe my wife would have something to say about this, but I wouldn't remember the names of any of them!"

"Ah'll tell ya what, mister, you're staring to sound like my fifth husband, couldn't remember my name while spending quality time with me inside the room nor outside. Now that I think about it, I can't seem to remember his name... maybe I should start to remember yours, m'sure a man like you would like that~" you tease yet keep to your chair observing as Spencer rolls his shoulders and turns to face you head on in character. By the wild look in his eyes, you can tell you are getting to him and by the end of this, you would be sure to hold him in the palm of your hand (in character of course!).

Disregarding your later statement, Gentleman Spencer clears his throat before replying, "And what type of man is your fifth husband, dashing and a rich-lad I would presume for something as gorgeous as you?"

You giggle to his words, hand reaching over the table to pick your piece, "Well, how am I s'possed to know? I'm only on my fourth but I'm sure he'll be out of the picture soon. I like to think I ran him dry in more ways than one-" Spencer begins coughing again before leaning down to erupt in laughter as does the rest of the cast and crew.

"Well, If yee two are done fucking around, It is time to introduce I- Thee masterful wizard thee-self, me" Shayne introduces his character, pointed a crocked finger and eye between the two of you. You shrug, taking a drag of your cigarette.

"Do tell me dear when it is my turn next, you see games of strategy are not for people like me- right?" you coyly state to Spencer who nods his head, still not ready to go back in character as you can see him taking in deep breathes to keep himself form falling into another pit of laughter and all you can do is smile, wiggling your eyebrows for all of that to go to hell.

"And it appears that the most intelligent always wait to go last. Names Tinky-Winky and I'm here to win. Should be easy with the table we have here tough-" Amanda tries to get the game moving before you put in one last jab.

"I wouldn't be to sure about that, what did you say, Rinky-Pinky?-?

"Tinky-Winky," Amanda clarifies with an eye-roll that you match with more exaggeration "Yes, tink-wink, whatever you're called just know that I will enjoy watching you all lose."

"Whatever you say, mobster," Amanda quips before quickly going over the rules as you place your head in your hands, blowing the hair out of your face.

─────── · ·

As the game progressed into the early stages, whatever civilized conversation you all tried to ensure at the start of the game was out the window, now full-blow yelling and screaming at one another as even the staff backed away, watching as the chaos exploded through the room and you all reverted fully into character.

"HEY! You just cheated!" Tinky-Winky Amanda screamed out to you, pointing their purple-gloved mitt in your face.

"Cheated?" You faked innocence, batting your eyelashes while speaking in a high pitched tone, "I would never cheat, thats something I save for me and my husbands!" you retort, now also standing up from your seat, hands gripping the table as you lena forwards to exaggerate your point before Spencer is pulling you back down to the table.

"Now I just don't like anyone putting their hands on my without me sayin' nothin' but I do like the feel of your hands, keep me grounded would ya? I'm forgetting my manners here with this lad," you mumble to the Gentleman beside you as he blushed bright red before starting to pull his hand away, coughing and choking on a reply only for you to hold in hand in position on your arm with a wink before returning your stolen money back to the bank and starting the new round.

"Penguin man! You seem a strange and pathetic fellow..." you off-handedly comment towards Spencer as Amanda takes her turn.

"Well yes, it comes from-" Spencer begins to speak before you continue your sentence.

"...I like that in a man," your voice drops to a sultry tone, head leaning against his arm enjoying the way Spencer sputters into nervous laughter and grips your hand.

─────── · ·

You noticed just how close Spencer had come multiple times during the filming but he had yet to call for a break, you were so sure of it at the start but had yet to get back to that point besides a few blushes and loaded looks your way but you stayed determined nevertheless.

Taking a long drag from your cigarette, you imagined it casting a hard cloud around and past Spencer head as you watched him take his turn, awaiting yours next. "Remember to win," you quiped with a sarcastic tone.

"I'll keep that in mind, dear. Now do be one and let this man concentrate," he replied with a playful glare in your direction before getting a snake-eyes that would nearly bankrupt the gentleman when landing on the dumpster wizards Shayne's hotel. "Fuck!" Spencer swore, tossing his top hat behind himself in outrage.

"I think the man needs to concentrate even more, I could help you~" you tease, picking up the top hat and placing it gently back on his head. Spencer only shakes his head once the hat is firmly back on. "I'm sure my mistresses are better-suited for such works, whatever would your husband think?"

"So outrageous of you to think my husband would do the thinking..." you mumble before picking up the dice in your hand and extending your palm with them towards Spencer. "Blow on these here die would ya, doll?" you ask as Shayne yells over the table, currently in a headlock from Tinky-Winky. "I thought it was custom to get the working women to blow your dice!?"

"Well he might be no dame but you're a dime in my eyes doll," you throw back without missing a beat.

"Ah-well. I may have a dime in my money bin! They make for a leisurely swim-" the Gentlemen comes into conversation as you are quick again to come to a response, "Would ya take me for a dip sometime then? I would love to see what else ya bring to the table?"

Spencer blinks, not wanting to look you into the eyes just yet and talks towards Amanda, "You know, I really can't say for certain, but do you think it's possible they're in it for the money and not my shining personality or physical connection?

And you do not allow time for Amanda to get a word in, knowing that now more than ever will get Spencer to crack his character, "It's not the money that I have my eyes on, sugar. I heard a little something about aerodynamics and clothes that I'm looking to test, and that test seems definitely responsive..." you end with a smirk watching as Spencer stands and turns around to face the wall.

"OKAY! OKAY!" Spencer admits to defeat as you stand up and cheer, running to hug him from behind as you both sway back and forth. "I made you loose character~" you sing-song.

"Yeah, yeah you did. Good job, lovely," Spencer groans before you both are told to re-take your seats and finish the game properly. To everyone surprise the Dumpster Wizard Shayne somehow ended up winning by pulling a Angela and stealing all the money as you were celebrating your boyfriends defeat in good fun.

"There is no way you could have won, I demand a recount!" you announce, throwing all your bills to the table. "And here I thought you weren't in it for the money," Spencer teases back. "Shut up, its only an added bonus," you snakily reply only to ultimately accept your defeat.

"Well, thank you all for sitting through this shit-show. We hope you join us again-" you begin to outro. "But not again for this exactly," Spencer cuts you off and clarify as the video fades to black by the sound of all your combined laughter flooding the studio once again.

─────── · ·

🔔 Smosh Games just posted! watch now?

─────── · ·

Gentleman's Rules: Cheaters Monopoly!

Smosh Games ✓ [Subscribed] 👍 32k | 👎 7.78M subscribers 109k views 5 days ago only the politest of games... click to read more

998 Comments

username01 Spencer really out here acting all hot and flustered- simply adorable!

username43 The group of characters I never knew I needed, all we were missing was Chosen!Trevor and Angela to really round out the chaos of this episode!

username88 So in love with this Monopoly: Cheaters Edition- I never want it to end!!

username21 so... gentlemen's Just Dance when?

↳ username46 OMG YESSS, THIS HAS TO BE MADE A THING!!

username03 i love how determined (name) was to get Spencer to break character and how good he took it!

username94 really love how (name) was the one to make all of Spencers outrageous comments appear like the normal ones in comparison to theirs.

username77 Wait so i'm confused, im a new smosh fan and are these actors acting like they're dating or are they already together????

─────── · ·

─ · · SPENCER AGNEW TAGLIST: @lisiliely @missflufffanfics @little-stitious-studios @thejourneyneverendsx @sibsteria @lizzylynch1 @babble2 @delaneyburghardt @thevintagefangirl @uniquely-haunting @maricarorp @sarahskywalker-amidala

[hedgiwithapen]

DHD: Leverage daemon au

(confession: I read the first 80% of golden compass in 2006 while waiting for christmas and thus new books and never finished it, so my rules for worldbuilding now!) Some things, everyone knows. Like how to breathe, and just as important. Separating hurts. Nothing cut can be made whole. Daemons don’t settle twice. Everyone in the business knew that Eliot Spencer’s Daemon had settled as an American black bear, and that Marron could kill just as viciously as he did.  Everyone deep in the business knew that he was Moreau’s right hand. Everyone in the business knew that Moreau’s best men were Severed.

Nate had never asked where Marron was, and neither had Sophie, though neither of them knew everything about his time with Moreau. He guessed they’d figured out something as close to the truth as anyone was going to guess, even Moreau. None but the two of them knew the truth, that Marron had run to save them both. That Marron had come back, a scruffy mongrel with a broken banner of a tail. She kept her distance the first few jobs, waiting in the Shadows. Eliot could always feel her there, just as strong as if she’d been only a few feet away. That wasn’t supposed to be how things worked, but no one had told Marron that. Parker, though, had noticed right away. “Like us,” she’d said, eyes flicking skyward. Rhodonite had settled as a Kestral young, after the first stint in Juvie. They’d agreed without needing to speak, aloud or otherwise, about it. That was how they worked. Who could say who’s idea anything they did was? They were the same, and neither of them suffered cages or locked doors lightly. “No,” Eliot had said, uncertain how much was a lie. “No,” Parker had returned. “You’re like us. It was safer. They don’t get that.” She was right about that. Hardison’s Chip, and Nate’s Vianney almost never left their shoulders. When Chip had to, it was usually to a pocket, and Vianney, though she could fly some distance away when a con called for it, preferred to stay as close as possible, where she could bite Nate’s ear, or preen his hair, depending on just how much of an ass he was being. It was easier to hide a pika than a parrot, unfortunately, but they always made do.  Remy helped with that. Remy had introduced himself when Nate had introduced Sophie to the team, a soft mink draped over a shoulder. “Remy. It’s short for anything you can think of,” he’d said, sliding off Sophie’s arm to investigate, shifting into a sleek, dark cat. He’d been Rembrant, Reminiscent, Remolade, Remnant; everything from a mobster’s coiled snake to a street rat’s street rat. It never bothered him what his name was, or what hers was--Sophie, Katherine, Charlotte, Laura. Names were as changeable as the color of her hair, the shade of his eyes.  “She never settles, so I don’t see why I have to. If you have a problem with that, I’ll bite you.” “I’ll bite you, too,” Sophie had laughed, a deadly glint in her eye. “So, Nate, what’s the score? What finally got you to try my side of the board?” The money had been good. The understanding--or at least, the hiding of judgment, was better. They’d split off and found their way back, again, again.

[anyathefandom]

Okay but that scene with the new core four just made me sad because they are really trying (key word: Trying) to replace Spencer and Cam with Gio and Dex and it's not giving so far.🥴 Like how are y'all going to replace the Brat Prince and the Working class king with *checks notes* dex the wannabe mobster sorry I meant cop who used to be in the military and Gio the violinist whose main personality as of now is being...well a violinist.

Sidenote: This new quad reset is already off to a dull start.😮‍💨 Honestly what kind of drama are they even going to get into??

[kookicat]

Breaking Promises Like Bones

He's never disobeyed a direct order. Not even when the thought of doing what he'd been asked made his hands sweat and bile rise hot and thick in his throat. Not even when the person at the other end of his weapon didn't deserve the world of hurt coming for them. Remembers with a shudder the ones who begged and the ones he couldn't save, any more than he could save himself. Told himself there was a rotten sort of grace in the act, because the result would have been the same, no matter whose hands were on the loaded gun. 

He trusts Nate, maybe even more than any other commanding officer, but there's a black and bloody and ruthless streak in the other man a mile wide he'd be a fool to ignore. 

And Eliot Spencer is no fool. 

So he notes the little, speculative gleam in Nate's eyes when he puts down the first gun he'd picked up in years, walking away covered in blood and oil and the stink of cordite. Tucks the thought that Nate would ask him to kill again away, in the vault in his head with everything else he can't think about, and goes back to business as usual. 

It stays that way, until there's a scared little girl and a gang of mobsters and Nate says the magic words - do your worst- that unlock the blackest parts of Eliot's capabilities. And it's worth it, to give back life to balance all the one's he's ended. Brings a scared little girl back home safe, so the balance swings in the right direction. 

But he can't help wondering, after that, when Nate's going to decide someone else needs to die. It's a dirty feeling, one that takes him back to the bad old days of working for Damien Moreau. Back to the days of being a mercenary, of not caring how much ruby blood was spilled as long as he had a bunk to lay his head and a pay cheque at the end of the month. 

They fall into an uneasy sort of equilibrium. It lasts until a plan goes to shit and Nate's in the hands of a thug big enough to give the hulk a run for his money. There's a sleek black handgun on the floor, at Nate's feet, and the goon's hands are around Nate's throat. 

"Eliot," Nate grinds out, and Eliot thanks God he doesn't have enough breath to make it an order, because the gun would already be in his hands despite the fact every shot he sends down the barrel feels like it takes a chunk of his soul with it. 

It's a brutal and bloody fight. Leaves Eliot doubled over, one hand pressed against his ribs, gasping for breath, blood dripping from his busted lip and brow. His left shoulder is throbbing again, arm full of pins and needles, joint full of ground glass. The goon is worse off- out cold on the floor, though Eliot knows that won't last. 

He stoops lower and scoops up the gun. Sees the question in Nate's eyes and looks away, under the pretense of breaking the weapon down. 

"Eliot-" Nate starts, and starts when Eliot throws the disassembled gun down the hall to land with a clatter on the white tile floor. 

"Never again," Eliot grinds out, teeth clenched so hard his jaw aches from the pressure. "Never ask me that again." Because I will do it, and there's enough blood on my hands to drown me already. 

Nate nods. "Okay," he says, like it's a done deal, but the little speculative gleam hasn't left his eyes. 

The unease creeps back into Eliot's gut, and lodges there like a stone. He locks it away, in the vault with everything else he doesn't want to think about and does his job, gets them both out of the building. Gets them home, and drowns out the screaming in his mind with a stiff shot or five and a few hours in the kitchen. 

Never again, Eliot said, but he knows there will always be another desperate situation, because that's just the life he'd signed up for for. Because that's how men like Nate and Moreau operate, on the edge of the possible and the reasonable. Because, like it or not, a lethal weapon is what he'd spent his life training to be. 

Never again, he'd said, like it was a promise he'd never break. 

But promises break easier than bones, and Eliot knows if he wants to keep his people safe, he'll go on breaking both.

(Guys if you read this and like it, please can you reblog? ❤️)

[bklynmusicnerd]

Anyways, Spencer being back on his Cassadine shit the second he handed demon spawn to Nik has been a true pleasure to watch. Spencer keeping his cool for the majority of the Dante grilling until Dante threatened to arrest him and tried to wag the finger at him for not turning Nik in was amazing.

Not just because Dante will never live down getting shot by his own mobster father and covering that mess up. But because he really only got nasty when Dante started seriously threatening his plans with Trina.

He's made his peace with the demon spawn situation and his decision. The only thing Spencer is truly defensive of at this point is his right to travel to Paris with Trina. He's real and he's consistent.

[shewhotellsstories]

Just making this post of arguements against Sprina because all of the usual fandom racism bingo scenarios pop up even though its a soap and not a show on Netflix. 

Here goes: 

-“Spencer’s not good enough for Trina!” On a show where a good chunk of the heroes are mobsters, Trina is too good for Spencer because of transgressions he’s been punished for. Since I started watching this show when I was 10 I’ve witnessed the male lead kill his son’s biological father in cold blood and still get love scenes and weddings, but go off I guess. 

The faux concern reminds me of the Vampire Diaries “Bonnie’s too good to date vampires” song and dance, when no one else on that show was “too good for vampires.” Ironically, a certain fan base’s blonde fave wasn’t too good for Spencer and hinged this profound bond between them on the fact that they were friends in third grade.

Moving on. 

-“Spencer would abuse Trina.” Why? Well, I’m glad you asked reader. Spencer punched the guy his cousin’s girlfriend cheated on him with. So obviously, because Spencer hit another grown man — on a show where pacifism is the exception and not the rule—he’d abuse his romantic partner. 

-”They haven’t even been on a date!” They’ve just had the fake-dating trope to lure out a serial killer, had meaningful talks about their complex family situations, gone to a wedding together, worked together, had dreams about each other and Spencer wrote a love letter to Trina. But, because Spencer hasn’t given Trina his letterman jacket they’re not a couple.

-”They seem like siblings/there’s no chemistry!” 

Personally, I’ve never kissed my brother like that, but to each their own I suppose. 

-“Why does Trina get everything!?!!?” Revisionist history, for a solid three years every boy on the teen scene liked Josslyn and Trina was there to listen to her romantic problems. 

I can call out a toxic soap couple when I see it, but it’s interesting that this very popular pairing is being held to standards no other couple is being held to. Why could that possibly be? 

The Facebook fans like this who’ll say with their whole chests that they don’t want to see an interracial ship are awful, but somehow less annoying than the Twitter GH fans lobbying against Sprina under a guise of altruistic concern. 

[trashcankitty12]

Trina, Spencer: beautiful.

Laura, Kevin: where ya been you beautiful bitches? (Nik go fuck yourself.)

Willow.... What did harmony say? Was it important to the plot?

Ava: if you don't break Mason's face and body into thousand pieces, you're not the bad bitch you claim to be.

Nina: about fucking time you told Sonny about this shit. Why didnt you tell the Brothers' Scorpio when Sasha and Cody first went missing and BitchFace came to you? More could have been done!

Sonny: no. Bad sonny. Wedding later, beat Montague and Gladys' asses now. They need to fear for the (miniscule) remainder of their lives. Otherwise you're not the Mobster you think you are.

[superghfan]

At the height of her popularity, Rosanne Arnold co-starred as Jennifer Smith, the daughter of ex-mobster Frank Smith and former love interest of Luke Spencer. Lisa Marie portrayed the character in 1980, Arnold in 1994, Sally Struthers in February 2002, and Holly Gagnier in June 2015. Gagnier returned to the role in 2022.

[burned-lariat]

Dex is not intimidating in the slightest. He looked like a regular guest as opposed to a security detail. And definitely not when he’s standing next to Spencer.

That's true. I feel like if they just...did not do what they've done with Dex, then he'd be the badass mobster goon he's meant to be.

[simp-ly-writes]

Inspired by that hard launch fic,

Consider: being the one to make Spencer break his character

Maybe doing one of those videos where all the different characters play a game and you have a caricature of the femme fatale/man-eater archetype

You, 1940s voice that borders on cliche mobster: Ah'll tell ya, mister, you're starting to sound like my fifth husband!

Gentlemen! Spencer: What type of a man was he? Dashing, I presume

You: Well, hows am I s'posed to know? I'm only on my fourth!

~~~

You: (long drag of a fake cigarette) Penguin man! You seem a strange and pathetic sorta feller...

Gentlemen! Spencer: Yes, it comes from-

You, sudden drop of the accent and a sultry tone: I like that in a man

Spencer: I- puh- (nervous laughter)

~~~

You, about to roll: Blow on these here die would ya, doll?

Dumpster Wizard! Shayne: I thought it was custom to get a lady to blow on your dice!

You, without missing a beat: Well he might be no dame but you're a dime in my eyes doll

Gentlemen! Spencer: I have many a dime in my money bin! They make for a leisurely swim

You: Would ya take me for a dip sometime? I'd like to see what ya bring to the table

Gentlemen! Spencer, to another character: You know, I can't say for certain, but do you think it's possible they're in it for the money and not my shining personality?

You: It won't be the money I'll have my eyes on, Sugar, I heard a little sommat about aerodynamics and clothes I'm looking to test

Whew 😮‍💨 I had to make sure I did this incredible ask justice! Thank you for waiting and I hope that you enjoy it HERE! 🫶

[soap-opera-daily]

The Enduring Love Story of Luke and Laura on General Hospital

Luke Spencer and Laura Webber’s love story on General Hospital is one of the most iconic and memorable in television history. Their relationship began in the late 1970s, with Luke, a complex and morally ambiguous anti-hero, and Laura, a sweet, young heroine. Their story started on a dark note, with a controversial and highly criticized storyline involving Luke’s assault on Laura. Despite this disturbing beginning, the characters eventually fell deeply in love, capturing the hearts of millions of viewers.

In the years that followed, Luke and Laura’s romance became the focal point of General Hospital, bringing in record-breaking viewership numbers. Their wedding in 1981 was a television event, with over 30 million viewers tuning in to see the couple exchange vows. This moment marked the peak of the couple’s popularity and solidified their place in pop culture history.

The love story of Luke and Laura was never smooth sailing. They faced numerous challenges, from mobsters and kidnappings to complex family dynamics and personal struggles. Their relationship was marked by both high drama and tender moments, making it one of the most compelling storylines in the show’s history. Despite the numerous obstacles, Luke and Laura always found their way back to each other, showcasing the strength and resilience of their love.

As the years passed, the couple’s relationship evolved, reflecting the complexities of real-life love. They experienced separations and reunions, joy and heartbreak, but their bond remained a central theme on General Hospital. Their love story was not just about romance; it was also about redemption, growth, and the enduring power of love in the face of adversity.

In recent years, General Hospital has revisited Luke and Laura’s relationship, bringing them back into the spotlight and reminding viewers why they fell in love with this iconic couple in the first place. Their story continues to be a touchstone for fans, symbolizing the timeless appeal of true love in the world of soap operas.

Luke and Laura’s tale is more than just a love story—it’s a saga that has shaped the landscape of daytime television and continues to resonate with audiences today. Their journey together, with all its ups and downs, serves as a reminder of the enduring power of love, no matter the challenges it faces.

Stay updated on Soap Opera Daily for the latest developments in the world of General Hospital Spoilers and other soap operas by following reliable sources for spoilers and news. The legacy of Luke and Laura is just one of the many reasons why General Hospital remains a beloved and enduring show in the hearts of fans.

[amescastaignede]

Amélie's mind was spinning, in a way that was specifically her.

One minute she'd had her lips against his, and now this. Last year's ending was enough to set her into that familiar quiet, internal panic. Although, she knew this wasn't about her, so much. This was Spencer's place, her best friend's partner and Gideon's best friend.

The weight of Gideon's hands on her shoulders was enough to keep her grounded, even if ever so slightly, but the unease remained as it always did with a woman with an anxious mind, festering like a sore that refused to heal.

Amélie wanted to cling to that idea, that this was simply this tasteless, awful prank or even a freaking malicious attempt to disrupt their evening. However, somewhere, deep down, this nagging voice whispered its relentless doubts, conjuring images she desperately tried to suppress. The French were here, and that meant...was there a war on the streets with unknowns? The Italian presence, maybe?

Felicity would be blowing up her phone in no time. God.

Guided off the piano, with the soft help her into her heels, Amélie's thoughts raced at the speed of light. How could they still be allowed to get away with this? The intrusion, the violation—it felt like an assault on those trying to enjoy their evening. Why couldn't these people just dissolve?

Felicity's name kept popping into mind, and as much as she wanted to ignore her -- she wouldn't be able to forever. But for Gideon's shake, she pushed her straps into place and sighed. "I'll, uh, I will try and keep Felicity away from this as long as I can...out of the London Advocate, but I won't be able to forever."

It was the problem working for a paper: all news, was news.

Amélie's already walking with him, arms wrapping around herself as she feels herself falling into a nightmare that she has no control over. It was part of the reason she hated social situations.

"You're staying here..." her words trailed off, as she chucked him a worried, doe-eyed glance. "What if it's not safe." She had to voice her concerns: there weren't many people in her life, but those that were, especially Gideon? She knew what the French were capable of, and his being here in a potential war made her feel sick.

The Rutherfords might've had money, but they weren't mobsters.

The offer of the luxury suite felt hollow now, tainted by the intrusion of this unbecoming reality. Still, Amélie nodded, silent in agreement. She would go, because she'd be more of a hindrance than a help, but she hated that he would stay behind. The thought... "You have nothing to make up for, you were wonderful."

Amélie couldn't shake the feeling of dread that clung to her like a second skin. Whatever awaited them outside, she hoped that the prank hadn't gone further than their phones: but she knew better. She hadn't gone into investigative journalism for nothing.

She saw the signs loud and clear. "You ready?"

For a few seconds he's transfixed, staring dumbly at the macabre scene playing out on his screen. But then one of the dogs goes to lunge, and Gideon snaps out, shoving the phone into his pocket before reaching for Amélie's as well. He doesn't have to wrestle it from her fingers; her grip is lax, expression stunned. The blush on her skin – normally capable of setting his blood on fire – has faded, too, replaced by a sickly pallor.

"Hey, look at me." The Rutherford instructs, pressing the power button to turn off her cellphone and firmly redirecting her gaze to him. "Look at me." Thankfully, she does. The distress clear in her gentle doe eyes, but so is the desperation. She doesn't want to believe what she's seeing anymore than he does.

'This...is some kind of sick joke, right?'

He places her cellphone on the hood of the piano next to her purse before tugging the strap of her dress back into place over her shoulder. Mourning it for just a few seconds because he's still a man, and has more than a single reason to resent the disturbing interruption tonight. The surgeon takes her by the shoulders, fixing his eyes on her.

"Probably. I don't know." Gideon admits, but throws his weight behind it anyway. "I'd bet on some disgruntled folks who couldn't get an invite... Or a couple maniacs trying to ruin the party and get a cheap thrill at our expense." The more he thinks about it, the more plausible it becomes. But it isn't the only theory that's sprung to life in his head, and the others possibilities beginning to take poisonous root are not ones he's willing to share with Amélie. Not when they would only sicken her all the more.

... Not when they would involve a much scarier conversation.

"Let's go. I want you out of here either way, Lia." He prompts her, turning to find the discarded jacket of his suit. He shrugs back into it before moving to help her off the piano and back into her high heels. "I'm sorry you won't get to sample the luxury suite tonight, but I promise I'll make it up to you." He wants her out. He wants her gone.

[heycasbutt]

What Kind of People They Are: Chapter 1

A/N: This is the first chapter in my Mobster!Spencer/Reidaway AU. I know that non reader inserts aren’t everyone’s cup of tea and if you choose to skip this, no hard feelings. But if you enjoy, please let me know! Reblog, replies, asks, DMs, carrier pigeons, whatever you choose. This does have dark themes, such as murder, talk of murder, and smut, there will be further warnings as chapters progress

New York City, New York 1925

Cigar smoke swirled through the sunbeams spilling in the window. Spencer took a seat in the overstuffed chair in front of his father, cigarette hanging between his long fingers. A clock ticked nearby as David Rossi lit another cigar.

“Any update on the Accardo case?” Rossi asked, taking a drag of his cigar.

“It’s taken care of, sir.” Spencer tapped the ash of his cigarette into the tray on the desk. He slid two photographs across the expensive mahogany. Two bodies lay in an alleyway, blood ran down the gutter like fresh rainfall. They had been shot, execution style.  

“Very good, Spencer.” Rossi smiled.

“Now, I hear our dear friend Fred Sanders has been skimming money from the Speakeasy you own over on 5th. Think we should pay the bastard a visit?” Spencer stamped out his cigarette and leaned back.

“I think we should, son.”

---

The speakeasy was buried beneath the city in the cellar of the abandoned Ivory Hotel. Frequented by the rich and famous, as well as the rich and infamous. So, it was no surprise when David Rossi and his son, Spencer wandered in on a Thursday afternoon.

Rossi had acquired the bar from a local gang-member in a game of Poker. Since then, he had dressed up the place, serving only the finest liquors he could find and import. Selling only the finest Cuban cigars. Serving only the most deserving of individuals.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Rossi,” Fred spoke from behind the bar, an asset in the acquisition. A single man who had gotten tangled up with the wrong people as a kid. He ended up in the bar before Prohibition and had stayed on as it reared its ugly head.

“Hear you’ve been skimming some money from the register.” Spencer walked behind the bar, his gun tucked in the back of his pants, a freshly lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

“I-I Sir. I’m sorry.” Fred stuttered. His face went pallid as Spencer grabbed a handful of his blonde hair.

“Thought we wouldn’t notice didja?” Spencer sneered in his ear “Or maybe. Maybe, you thought you had been here so long that we would take pity on you, give you a second chance.” He released Fred’s hair, the bartender breathed a sigh of relief. The relief didn’t seem to last long as his head was slammed against the bartop.

“You were so wrong.” Rossi stamped out his cigar and slid his knife out from the inner lining of his jacket. A flick of the wrist and Fred Sanders was sprawled across the bartop that was being painted in his free flowing blood. Soft gurgles fell from his throat as he took his last breaths and slumped down.

Spencer’s shirt had soaked through with the man’s blood, the faint cut off his stomach poked through the white Oxford.

“Go clean up. I’ll get Al to take care of this.” Rossi commanded his son with a wave of his hand.

Spencer nodded silently and lit a cigarette as he made his way from the bar and headed down the empty city sidewalk.

—

Elle Greenaway was known for her grace and charm. She was known for her give-no-fucks attitude, but most of all, she was known for her father. Michael Greenaway was a notorious Spanish gangster. Rivaling only the likes of David Rossi himself.

He was ruthless, cutthroat and didn’t take no for an answer. He had a beautiful wife, and one lovely daughter whom he protected as though his very life depended on it.

To say that the Greenaway family had a distaste for the Rossis would be an understatement. Years of competing for glory, years of bloodlust held between the two patriarchal figures, it had all culminated in an unspoken yet well known feud between the two.

A knock on the window pulled Elle from her book. Women who read and who desired more from life were usually frowned upon but Elle was determined to not be a simple wife and homemaker. She wanted to make something of herself in this world, even if she died trying.

“What are you doing here?” She whispered as she let the lanky figure into her room. Her hands ran down his blood soaked shirt, she had seen her fair share of these in her life and each time they never failed to make her stomach turn.

“I missed you and Pop is out for the night.” Spencer whispered laying a kiss on her lips. The two star-crossed lovers had been sneaking around since she was 14 and he was 16. Knowing that if their families ever found out, neither of them would get a fairytale ending.

Elle smiled softly at her boyfriend and ran a hand through his hair. She could feel the tension and stress of the day wash down his back with her light touches and soft kisses.

“What happened here?” She motioned to the blood on his shirt as she quickly unbuttoned it. Tossing the material to the floor she marveled at the cut of his body in the soft candlelight of her room.

“Pop killed a man and enlisted my help. He was skimming money from the register at our speakeasy on 5th and thought he could get away with it.” Spencer lowered his head to Elle’s neck and suckled softly at the creamy flesh. His hands gripped her hips and travelled up her back to the zipper of her day dress.

“Such a randy boy!” Elle chided playfully as her zipper slipped down her back, the fabric pooling at her feet.

“Would you like me to stop, Ms. Greenaway?” Spencer looked into her eyes, desire flickered behind his hazel orbs. One deft hand loosened the ties of her corset and tossed it to the floor with her dress.

“Not even a little bit, Mr. Reid.” She muttered, taking his lips in a searing kiss. Her slim fingers ran down his chest, stopping at the cool buckle of his belt as if asking for permission. It was granted in the form of his hips bucking up to meet her hands. The leather hissed as she slid it through his belt loops, a wry smile painted her face.

“You’re being a tease tonight, my dear.” Spencer groaned against her hair.

“Oh am I?” She winked and slid down his slacks followed by his linen boxer shorts. His erection stood tall, a small bead of precum glistened at the tip.

Spencer smirked as he slid Elle’s panties down her long legs. Her heady scent filled the intimate space between them, Spencer’s hands gingerly held her body as he lowered her to the soft mattress below.

“You okay?” He prodded, lifting her legs to rest against his waist.

“I will be when you get inside me.” Elle giggled, pulling Spencer down to kiss him fiercely. He pushed in slowly. Filling her to the brim, they moaned in tandem as a wave of pleasure washed over their bodies that glistened with the first sheen of sweat.

“God you feel amazing.” Spencer grunted, leaning forward and laying a barrage of kisses along Elle’s collarbones. She arched into his form, crying out as his cock brushed that sweet spot inside her.

“Oh Spencer!” Her nails dug into his biceps, leaving small marks, but at this point neither of them cared.

Spencer attached his mouth to one of her rosy nipples as he picked up his speed, holding onto her ass so he could drive himself even deeper within her.

Heat bloomed between Elle’s legs like a fire of passion licking its way up her body. Sure, she had been with other men when her and Spencer had broken up that one summer but no one could ever make her feel the way he did. The way he was fevered but gentle, took his time and paid attention to her. She couldn’t get enough of him.

One of Spencer’s hands reached down to rub feverishly against Elle’s clit. Determined to bring her to the edge with him.

“Fuck! That feels so good, Spence!” Elle grunted, bucking her hips up towards the source of the blinding pleasure.

“Let go, baby,” Spencer cooed in her ear. “Let go for me.”

Elle’s orgasm hit her like a wave crashing against the beach. Her toes curled against her sheets and her fingers curled against Spencer’s scalp as she ascended to that high.

It wasn’t a few moments later before Spencer spilled his own release within her.

Silent bliss settled over the bedroom as Elle ran her fingers through the chestnut curls on Spencer’s head.

“I love you,” He whispered taking her lips in a soft kiss.

“I love you too. Mama and Papa will be out until tomorrow afternoon. Please stay?” Elle’s brown eyes glistened in the candlelight. Spencer wanted to stay, oh how he wanted to stay. How he longed to wake up with Elle curled into his side. How he longed to stop sneaking around and be able to tell the world of his love for her. But he couldn’t.

“I can’t, darling. I want to, believe me I do. But I can’t. Not tonight.” Spencer looked away quickly, tears pricked the corners of his eyes as he pried himself from the warm cocoon of blankets and limbs.

“Please come back though. I don’t like you not being around.” Her eyes pulled him in, he wanted to stay. Start a life with this woman but he couldn’t. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t.

“I will. I promise, darling.” Spencer laid a soft kiss on her lips as he pulled his shirt back on and slid his pants and underwear up his legs.

“Promise we can be together some day. Just you and me. No families, no crime, no rivalry.” Elle whispered as she walked to the window with Spencer.

“I promise my dear. I promise it even if it’s the last thing I do.”

He began climbing down the old oak tree that rested against the house when a gunshot rang out through the night. A thud followed shortly thereafter, and then, silence.