#peace on earth and good will toward men

[dramoor]

“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men."

~Luke 2:14

[harrisonarchive]

Footage from an MTV interview, 1988; courtesy of tedblight.

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

i don't have mutuals because 1. this is a sideblog, which lacks the ability to follow anyone back, and 2. i am avoiding all spoilers, so i can only really follow 2 txf accounts that aren't past me in their watches, BUT: i do think of the people who comment on the posts i share as my buddies. and i love the buddies in my computer. i am like a coffee shop and when i see the regulars in my notifs i am filled with joy.

[mittensmorgul]

it will never not amaze me how many people read holiday fic outside of the holiday season

[dailyanarchistposts]

Peace on Earth and Good Will Towards Men, by Emma Goldman

IN response to the request of the Newspaper Enterprise Association for an article on how the American people can best help to restore “peace on earth and good will toward men,” I sent the following:

To ask how we Americans can best help to restore “Peace on earth and good will towards men,” is to assume that such a thing ever existed save in the ideal of Jesus and of those who were his immediate followers. As a matter of fact it never has existed in any other way, nor was there an attempt even on the part of Christianity to make the ideal of its teacher a living force. Truth is, the teacher himself was not quite clear as to the meaning of “Peace on earth and good will toward men,” if we are to believe the data contained in the biblical records.

Jesus said, “Give unto the Lord what is the Lord’s and to Caesar what is Caesar’s.” We are also informed that he said “The poor shall never cease out of the land,” which is but a logical sequence of man’s duty to the Lord and to Caesar.

Few sincere Christians, and they are very few, indeed, realize that if man must forever render unto the Lord and unto Caesar out of the products of his labor, “peace on earth and good will towards men” can never exist It does not matter whether the Lord be the relentless Jewish God or his more kindly son who came to redeem mankind: so long as the Lord may exact a toll from man, the two will be at war with each other. Hence neither peace nor good will can prevail.

Equally so it matters not whether Caesar be the ruler of Rome, the Czar upon the bloody throne of Russia, the German Kaiser obsessed by militarism, or the money in- terests of America—so long as they exact taxes from the sweat and blood of the people, neither peace nor good will is possible.

What then must we Americans do to be saved and help save others? We must transvalue our values; we must be brave enough to throw overboard the ballast of false gods; we must realize that neither the Lord nor Caesar have any claim on what they have not themselves produced. We must get off our complacent, self-satisfied position of the “better than thou,” and fact the truth that but for circumstances the best placed man and the most secured woman might be in the criminal dock or red light district.

Yes, circumstances represent the most cruel chariot wheel which gives special privileges to those who never work and yet monopolize the earth, while they deny common humanity to those who always work and are excluded from the table of life. Circumstances which decree that the masses shall live in squalor and drabness, while the few gorge themselves upon the blood of children, the youth of women, the integrity of men. With such a Moloch ever present, insatiable in its voracity, there can be neither peace nor good will. We Americans who more than any other nation are in the thralls of that monster, are perhaps among the least of them who can bring about peace on earth and good will toward men.

And yet—and yet we of all nations ought to be in the lead. We who with Jefferson proclaimed that the best government is the one which governs least; who emphasized with Thoreau that the best government is the one which does not govern at all. We who pointed out with Emerson that character, as represented through men and women, and not through a listless, immobile majority driven hither and thither by unscrupulous politicians, is the basis of democracy. We, in short, who are not handicapped by the decadent, crumbling military dynasties, we ought to be in the lead.

The first step, then, to bring about peace on earth and good will toward men is to concede the superiority of the individual, as the unit of social life, to the organized force known as the State. Secondly, to emancipate the masses from economic and social slavery. In other words to teach man the value of himself and his right to take the things which he has produced. That alone will establish peace on earth and good will toward men.

Title: Peace on Earth and Good Will towards Men Author: Emma Goldman Topics: christianity, Libertarian Labyrinth Source: Retrieved on 25th April 2021 from wiki.libertarian-labyrinth.org

[criminalamnesia]

Traitor part 8

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

here it is everyone :)) took me forever but it’s finally here! now I can disappear in peace lol. I’ll proofread everything later, but I hope this lives up to everyone’s expectations. thank you all for the love you’ve given this series. I hope this gives you some closure.

let me know if you want any drabbles from the series <3

thank you again!

after kyle finally leaves you alone, you slink back against the door, shutting your eyes so tightly stars dot your vision.

it never ends, does it?

apologies. worry. sympathy. pity.

it was in each of their eyes— the one-four-one. each of them trying to mask their pity for you behind sickening sympathy. you were exhausted of that look— not just from them, but from everyone you had walked past or looked at since everything had happened.

you open your eyes, scanning the room. what once had been a haven had become a hell. shattered glass sprinkled the floor near the mirror. clothes were still strewn about. you hadn’t bothered picking up what had been disturbed.

you’d be gone too soon for it to matter.

your phone rings then, the screen lighting up in the dimly lit room. you let the ring tone play for a second longer before you’re moving, reaching for the device on your nightstand.

it’s kate, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“hello?” you say as you answer the call.

“it’s kate,” comes the woman’s familiar voice through the speaker. “im on my way to base. should be there by tomorrow.”

you startle, eyebrows raising in confusion. “you’re coming here? why?”

you hear her sigh. “we can talk about it tomorrow. I need to meet with john, anyways. two birds, one stone and all that.” she tells you.

“can you at least tell me if the paper work is all set for my transfer?” you ask.

she doesn’t answer for a moment, and then:

“we’ll talk about it tomorrow, sergeant. get some rest. you sound like you need it.”

you hear a click, and then the line goes dead. you furrow your brows as you look down at the phone in your hand.

why on earth would she come all the way here just to talk?

your mind is moving a mile a minute, and suddenly, it clicks.

laswell is coming here to do damage control.

you huff a mirthless laugh, dropping your phone as your hands come up to run through your hair.

you weren’t being reassigned. you were being discharged.

but was it at her insistence, or someone else’s?

you whip around, wrenching open the door and storming down the hall to price’s office. those you pass in the hallway give you bewildered stares, and suddenly you’re aware that you’re still in that damned robe, but you’re on a mission.

and when you start something, you see it through.

you don’t bother knocking as you reach price’s door. instead, you barge into the office, effectively interrupting an argument between price and simon. their voices die off, heads turning to appraise who had barged in.

price’s eyes widen at the sight of you, but simon’s face is as unreadable as always. the door clicks shut behind you, and you stalk towards the two men, your fists clenched as you seethe.

“you motherfuckers,” you hurl the words at them, “you fucking knew. you knew.”

“love, what are you talkin’ about?” price questions, his brows furrowed as he turns to you.

“laswell,” you say, and price’s eyes widen. he knows. and now he knows you know.

“whatever she told you—”

“she didn’t tell me shit,” you huff. “I figured it out. why the fuck else would she come here just to talk? she’s playing fucking babysitter, isn’t she?”

price doesn’t speak. your gaze flits to simon’s.

“I’m sure you were rooting for this outcome, weren’t you? couldn’t finish me off in that fucking room, but hey, this is just as good, isn’t it? sending me back to fucking nothing.”

“this job is my life,” you turn your attention back to the captain. “and you fuckers just can’t stop ruining it, can you?” your voice is raising, and tears prick the corners of your eyes. you’re becoming hysteric.

“all because of a fucking lie!” you’re yelling now, jabbing a finger into the chest of your former captain.

“calm down,” the sound of simon’s rough baritone leads your head to snap toward him. your eyes are wide, fury and terror blazing in them.

and he expects you to let loose. scream and hit and scream some more. but you don’t.

you stand there and you stare at him with those wide eyes. the rest of the room— hell, the world falls away— and it’s just him and you.

like it was on patrol during countless nights, your bare fingers dancing over his gloved hands as you prattled on about a show you liked.

on countless nights curled up in his bed, your back to him, pressed so close he could feel the beat of your heart in his own chest. his arms wrapped around you, one of your fingers lazily tracing the ink on his forearm. no words spoken, yet so much said.

in the field, when you and johnny bicker over comms and he takes your side. when you take a bullet to the shoulder and he holds pressure on it until evac arrives.

when he makes eye contact with you as you pin kyle to the training mat, finally able to overcome his strength. when price tells him you’re the rat and he doesn’t want to believe it.

it’s just him and you. a lieutenant and his sergeant. but it’s more than that.

it’s a deep understanding of this job being your life. of losing everything and everyone you hold dear. of finding family again in this team, and doing whatever it takes to keep that family safe.

and he fully realizes, then, what you have been condemned to.

what they condemned you to.

what he condemned you to.

he breaks from his thoughts as you slam your fist into his jaw.

price’s eyes widen, his feet carrying him forward to intervene, but simon waves him off as he cradles a hand to his jaw.

“let ‘em,” he grunts out, and price looks bewildered, but he nods. he takes a step back, his hands falling to his sides, and he lets you strike again.

“fuck you,” you seethe, and despite your best efforts, your voice cracks. emotion seeps in, and your eyes are wet as you swipe a leg out from under him, forcing him to his knees.

he falls with no grace, knees hitting the concrete floor with a dull thud. you’d cringe if this were any other circumstance.

instead, you deliver another blow, cracking his nose with the force of it. blood sprays out and wets your robe.

“ghost—” price begins from somewhere off to the side, but simon just shakes his head.

“fuck you, simon! fuck you!” you scream at him, and your fists are flying blindly as tears cloud your eyes.

and he just takes the hits. you subconsciously register the sound of the office door squeaking as it opens and quickly closes. price didn’t want to be a bystander any longer, it seems.

but he still didn’t jump in. was it because of ghost’s insistence? or because your captain didn’t want to watch one of his soldiers finally snap?

you finally stop yourself when blood drips from your knuckles. unsurprisingly, they’ve split again. there’s no doubt in your mind that there will be little scars between each of them once they’ve healed.

more to add to the reminder of everything. god, at this point you knew you’d never forget it even if you wanted to. even if you tried to. even if you did for a brief moment, those little white lines— discolored and jagged skin in the place of what should be smooth and unmarred, would be your reminder.

blood pools on the floor, a mix of yours and simon’s. you pay it no mind as you wipe the backs of your hands on your completely ruined robe. good— now you had a great excuse to throw the damned thing away.

you would’ve thrown it away anyways.

you bring your hands to your eyes, wiping away tears that had freed themselves their cage. you see simon clearly then, his face bloodied and yet still beautiful in that way of his. his nose is obviously broken. lacerations above his eye and on his cheekbones.

his eyes are staring back you, the icy blue of them never more intense than now.

you heave in your breaths as you look at him. his split lip cracks further as he opens his mouth.

“done?”

and you don’t have anything left to give, so you nod. then you slump to your knees, down onto his level, and you don’t look away from what you’ve done.

it’s no different than what you did to the doctor, or to countless enemies in the field. but, at the same time, it is different.

because it’s him, and he let you do this. he could have easily stopped you. he’d shown his strength against you numerous times on the sparring mat, picking you up and tossing you around with ease.

and yet he didn’t stop you.

“why?” you ask him, and it’s a loaded question. your voice is a watery tremble, and the word comes out as a whisper, but he doesn’t shy away.

he shrugs. “you needed it.”

he’s focusing on one aspect of the question— on why he let you hit him. you open your mouth to respond, but he surprises you by speaking again.

“least I could do,” he says.

you close your mouth, your chapped lips pressed into a thin line. why is he doing this now? saying this now? what changed?

“is it your fault, then? that I’m being discharged?” you find yourself asking, and you’re not sure if you want to know the answer.

maybe you just want a reason to hate him more.

“no,” he says, and you know he means it.

he never lied to you, regardless of any pain it may have saved. it was one of the things you had loved about him.

he sighs. “I didn’t want you to go.”

that surprises you. simon was never one to freely speak on his feelings. he had opened up to you during your relationship, but it was as if there was always an invisible line he could never cross. never did he utter the complete truth to his thoughts or feelings. and you had accepted that— because that is who he was.

and you would take him with all his walls if it just meant that you could have him.

“I don’t want you to.” he corrects himself.

the room falls silent around you. the part of you that still holds love for him yearns for his embrace at this moment. but you push that side of you down. you will not go crawling back, not after what happened.

“you’ve been an asshole,” you say, and he gives a curt nod.

“probably.” he concedes. “but I wouldn’ take anythin’ back. I told you, I meant what I said.”

“is that supposed to make me feel better?” you ask. god, he has a horrible way with words.

“no,” he tells you. “nothin’ I can say can do that.”

you snort. you fall back on you haunches, your hands in your lap as you look at him.

“I am never going to forgive you,” you tell him, words full of so much hurt.

he nods again. “I know. I don’ blame you. don’ expect you to, neither.”

“but I’m…” he starts, and his lips crease in a frown. “im sorry.”

you just look at him. perhaps you had wanted an apology at one moment in time, but now? now none of it mattered.

“I hope so,” you tell him. you move to stand, and he remains still. he hasn’t moved an inch since you’d finished your assault.

“I hope you feel this way for the rest of your lonely life. I hope that you never forget what you did to me, and I hope that it keeps you up at night. because I can tell you with certainty that I will never forget. and I hope the others remember, too. I hope it tears you all apart from the inside. that it follows you around for the rest of your career.”

you breathe in, then out. “and I hope no one ever gives you the chances I did,” your voice is soft. “because I would never wish what you did to me on the next person you think you love.”

his face conveys no emotion other than the small frown still on his lips. his eyes, so cold, have softened the tiniest bit. you used to love when you could bring out that softness inside of him. when it was just the two of you, your hand in his, his eyes on you.

those memories would suffocate you if you let them. what could’ve been will suffocate you. you refuse to let it.

you turn and stalk towards the door, not bothering to spare him another glance. you open it, stepping out into the hallway, coming face-to-face with the rest of the one-four-one.

their eyes are all wide as they take you in. your bloodied hands and robe. the dried tear streaks on your cheeks. you pull the door shut behind you before you speak.

“i don’t care to speak to kate,” you say to price, your eyes meeting his. “fuck her for not giving me a chance. and fuck you for laying down like a damn dog and not fighting for your fucking team.”

you turn to johnny next. “you shove your sorries up your ass, mactavish. I don’t want your sympathy, and I don’t want your pity. I hope your regret eats you alive.”

finally, kyle. “and you,” you glare at him. “if anyone other than simon should’ve defended me, it should’ve been you. I met you first, kyle. you were my closest friend, my brother. and you turned out to be just another fucking lap dog.”

you shake your head, blinking away hot tears. “I want you to get me temporary housing and a car because that’s the least you owe me, after ruining my life. and I don’t want to hear from any of you ever again. if I do, I guarantee you I will not show you the mercy you think you showed me when you had me tied up in that chair.”

none of them spoke, and you didn’t give them a chance to as you pushed past them, heading back toward your room to change.

a yellow cab retrieves you from base the next morning before kate arrives. it’s still dark outside when you leave the shelter that had once been home. rain pours down around you, a raging storm hanging overhead as it had all night prior. perhaps it was a reflection of your mood. you liked to think that it was.

you toss your duffle bag into the trunk, shutting it before climbing into the back seat. you hadn’t bothered to pack anything other than a few pairs of clothes you’d recovered from the floor of your room. everything else could be trashed, especially anything the boys had given you.

the driver doesn’t speak— price had given him all the information he needed— and paid him— before he’d fetched you. it seems your final outburst— and beating simon to a pulp— had finally put some urgency in his movements.

none of them had seen you off, per your request. you thought it was the least they could do for you after continuously disrespecting your boundaries.

(unbeknownst to you, simon had watched you leave through a window.)

the driver turned up the music— some pop song you didn’t know the name of— and you slumped in your seat, your head turned toward the window as you watched the rain race down it.

you found yourself drifting off quickly, and you didn’t try to fight it. you’re finally free of that place and the men you thought were your family. free of the anxiety of seeing them around every corner. free of the hate that sparked in your heart every time you heard their voices.

you sleep, and for the first time since before everything, it’s peaceful.

you wake to the taxi driver talking to you.

“we’re here,” he says, knocking on the glass separating the front and back seats. “can you get out now? I gotta get home. it’s my wife’s birthday.”

you blink the sleep from your eyes, nodding before you even register what he’s saying. “sorry,” you mumble as you fumble with the seat belt.

you slip from the car, your boots splashing in a muddy puddle. you grimace as the murky water seeps in, wetting your socks.

you trudge around to the back of the car, opening the trunk and retrieving your bag. you’ve just shut the trunk and stepped back when the car is driving off, kicking up mud that further dirties your boots and jeans.

you pay it little mind as you look at the small cottage before you.

nestled between some trees, it’s beautiful. a shingled roof. light blue paneled siding. a small front porch with a rocking chair and a bench swing. a beautiful dark blue door.

your favorite flowers live in the flower beds surrounding what you can see of the house. it makes you wonder if its a simple coincidence or if simon or price planned it.

how long have they known that you would have to come here? that you would have no where else to go except for where they put you?

you vowed that this house would just be temporary. you would get away from it as soon as possible, putting the rest of the one-four-one behind you. you didn’t want any of them knowing where to find you.

the rain slows to a sad drizzle. drops prick your skin as you make no effort to avoid puddles, splashing carelessly to the front door. you can hear birds beginning to chirp, slipping out of their hiding places as the sun’s rays begin to illuminate the earth once more.

a new beginning, you think.

you reach a hand toward the door knob, twisting it open and pushing inside. it’s a cozy little place with wood floors and a brick fireplace. it’s furnished, but there’s no personality to it. it clearly hasn’t been somebody’s home.

the door clicks shut behind you as you toe off your boots and drop your duffle by the door. as you nudge your boots out of the way with a foot, you notice an envelope on the floor.

eyebrows scrunched in confusion, you lean down and scoop it up. your name is written on the front in a scrawl you don’t recognize.

who else knows you’re here?

perhaps you’ll need to leave sooner than you thought.

you push your thumb under the seam, ripping it open with little finesse. inside is a typed letter. it’s an offer, you realize. a job offer.

its got an american stamp on it, and its signed by a phillip graves.

a new beginning indeed.

[theonion]

Citing the film’s problematic portrayal of humanity as inherently good and capable of redemption, TV network Turner Classic Movies announced Monday that it would no longer be airing Miracle On 34th Street due to the 1947 Christmas film’s outdated depictions of hope and joy. “While this movie’s celebration of peace on earth and goodwill toward men might have resonated with Americans in the immediate postwar years, its antiquated themes of holiday cheer and the power of belief were wrong then and they are wrong now,” said Charles Tabesh, TCM’s head of programming, stating that the film did not belong on television and should never be screened without an introduction from a scholar that provided viewers with the full historical context of its misplaced optimism. Full Story

[mggslover]

Reflections

In which Spencer sees himself in a suspect, making him willing to do anything to protect her. Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Genre: crime x angst? x fluff? Content warnings: post prisoner!spencer (but no spoilers bc i'm still on s11 lol, so sorry for inaccuracies), one time mention of suicide and rape (no details), fade to black smut so suggestive content Word count: 3,8k A/n: my own entry for #lovers1kevent ! bit different from what i usually write. didn't exactly turn out like how i had envisioned it, but i'm still very curious to hear your thoughts!

“Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. I see my reflection in your eyes.” The sound of a clock striking midnight made you jump in your seat, the plastic stool screeching loudly against the cold, concrete floor. The interrogation room was filled with nothing but the rhythmic ticking of the clock and the pounding of your heartbeat. Everything in this room felt eerie: a harsh light shone down on you, irritating your eyes, and there was no escaping your reflection in the two-way mirror in front of you. You observed yourself through the glass, and to put it simply, you looked awful. The dress you were wearing was crumpled as it hung loosely on your frame, the dark circles under your eyes were noticeable from a distance, and your eyes themselves expressed no spark. They looked dimmed, with no emotion behind the colored irises. Though, that had been so for a while now.

The creak of the door jolted you out of your thoughts. You turned your head, feeling disappointment when the same agent as before walked in. He wasn’t hard on the eyes: dark skin, rolled-up sleeves that showed his muscular forearms, a neatly trimmed goatee covering his sharp jaw, and eyes that looked just as cutting as they darted over you. Maybe, in another life, you would’ve considered dating him. In a life where he didn’t suspect you of killing three men.

He stayed quiet as he made his way over to you, taking a seat at the opposite side of the table. He placed a folder in front of him, shoving it toward you. “Still not going to talk?”

You cleared your throat. Nevertheless, the words came out hoarse. “I have nothing to say.”

He rolled his eyes in annoyance before crossing his arms. “Do I need to remind you of your rights? You can contact a lawyer, or we can get you one.”

“I also have the right to remain silent.”

A small huff escaped his lips, and you noticed the way he clenched his fingers, as though trying to hold himself back from making a comment he’d regret.

His eyes landed back on you, glaring. “A girl like you won’t survive in prison.”

“Well, then it’s good that I’m not going to prison,” you snapped back with a small smile. You weren’t going to let him intimidate you. You didn’t do anything wrong, yet here you were.

“I’d lose the attitude if I were you because it’s not looking good.”

Before you could open your mouth to respond, he cut you off. “Open the folder.”

You inhaled deeply before obeying. You hated the way you couldn’t help the nerves from creeping in. Your hand trembled as you opened the folder. The picture that greeted you was one of three lifeless bodies slumped over each other in an empty alley. A bitter tang formed in the back of your throat, but you ignored it, forcing yourself to look back at the agent.

“Looks familiar?”

Your eyes flicked over the image again. “What exactly are you referring to?”

“The people. Do you recognize them?”

You nodded.

“I want a clear answer,” he said, his voice raised.

“Yes,” you replied, matching his tone. “We went to college together.”

There was no way you could forget them. Unfortunately. The idea that they were wiped off the face of earth gave you a strange sense of comfort. Maybe now you could find the peace you’d been looking for. The peace she was looking for.

The agent seemed relieved to have gotten an answer out of you. “And you met up with them again today. Is that right?” he queried, nodding toward the folder.

You got the hint and pulled the first picture off the pile, revealing another underneath it. It was a selfie taken by two women. You spotted yourself in the right corner by the bar, in conversation with the three men he was referring to. His gaze stayed focused on you, trying to see if you’d reveal any emotion.

“It was our college reunion. As you can see I wasn’t the only one there,” you explained.

���Multiple witnesses have told us you were the last person seen talking to them.”

You shrugged. “Is that something significant?”

“Not necessarily so,” he answered, sitting up straighter. “What is, is that you left through the emergency exit. And what makes it even more suspicious is that you left right after the victims got their drinks served.”

You gave him a blank look.

“The victims were poisoned.”

Ah.

You offered him a tight smile. “I think that’s something you need to bother the bartender about.”

“We checked him out already. The only person we can connect to this case is you.”

A silence followed. It truly didn’t seem like you’d be leaving anytime soon. You rubbed your hands down on the material of your dress, gathering courage.

“It’s an unfortunate coincidence. Like I told you, I had nothing to do with it. I don’t want anything to do with them,” you clarified, the disdain evident on your tongue.

The agent turned his head around, looking at the two-way mirror. The thought of other agents standing behind that wall, all analyzing you full of judgement, made your skin crawl. 

“Seems like you’re not too fond of the men.”

You scoffed, “No one is.”

“What about Natalie Fisher?” he wondered aloud. “She seemed close to you. We found multiple pictures dating back to high school.”

Like a gust of wind, the memories came back to you. How you found Natalie standing in front of your college dorm room, smiling brightly as she introduced herself as your roommate. You instantly hit it off: sharing the same humor, the same passions. Only a year younger than you, but a carbon copy. From that day on you were inseparable. 

It all came back to that one night — that one time you bailed on her, deciding studying for an upcoming exam was more important than joining her at a frat party. It was only when she called you awake in the middle of the night, her voice shaking as her words tripped over her tongue, telling you she didn’t know where she was and how she woke up in an empty alley, possibly drugged and with her clothes torn — that you knew you made the biggest mistake in your life.

You shook the thoughts away. Pursing your lips as you shrugged. “She was. I don’t know why you’re bringing her up.”

“Her report says she died two years ago from suicide. Or did you kill her as well?”

It felt like he’d knocked the breath out of you. You made a choking sound somewhere between a laugh and a cry. “You’re sick,” you spat in disbelief.

“I’m sick?” He chuckled sarcastically. “You’re the one who murdered those people.”

“I didn’t murder anyone!”

The sound of your yelling reverberated off the concrete walls, the echo scaring you. You squeezed your eyes shut, holding back tears as you bit your tongue. There goes your attempt at staying calm. He was playing games with your mind. You knew this was all a trick — a way to get you to admit to the crimes he was naming. And it drove you crazy that it was having an effect.

“I’m not talking to you anymore,” you muttered.

-`♡´-

Spencer couldn’t tear his eyes away from you as he looked through the glass. You’d been sitting there for three hours, forty-three minutes, and twenty-six seconds, counting. He didn’t know what it was about you that made it impossible to look away. Hotch had told him to go home. Hotch was certain that they got the right unsub, and he assured him that you’d confess at some point. But he couldn’t get himself to move. To turn his head even. All he felt was a nagging guilt as he watched you being questioned by Morgan. It was a different experience to see an interrogation when he’s been in one himself. He now understood what it was like. How pressuring their questions can be, how the weight of a sentence is crushed on your shoulders, and how they keep pushing you to the point where you even start doubting your own truth. 

All he could think of when he saw you was innocence. A soft, radiant white light surrounded you. You were bright even against the harshness of the room. There was no rational way to explain how he felt, only that he sensed the deepest desire to keep you safe from everything that could hurt you.

“She’s working on my nerves,” Morgan exclaimed, tension visible in his shoulders as he stomped out of the interrogation room. 

“We can’t stop,” Hotch stated. “We haven’t gotten an answer out of her yet.”

Morgan let out a deep huff. “It’s clear that she did it.”

Spencer's focus was back on you. Since he’s been to prison he’s been more aligned with his feelings. His heart overpowering his mind at times. 

“She’s not our unsub,” Spencer spoke up, surprising even himself with the firmness of his voice.

Everyone looked at him expectantly, waiting for the genius revelation he always had. But the room stayed silent.

Hotch eyed him, “What makes you say that?”

“I just know.” Spencer replied, not caring to elaborate further. He nudged Derek aside and headed for the door. “I’ll take it from here.”

He pulled the heavy metal door open, at once met with your doe eyes as you faced him. For the first time tonight, you didn’t flinch when someone entered. 

Spencer had to swallow. His gaze momentarily dropped to the floor, feeling overwhelmed by how beautiful you looked up close. You seemed tired, cold, yet somehow angelic.

His eyes never left yours as he made his way over to you. You held his gaze, observing him with the same intensity as he was. He carried a calm, magnetic presence, which made you feel an unexplainable urge to get closer to him.

“Are you cold?” he eventually asked, his voice gentle and considerate.

You blinked at his question, clearly not expecting it. You remembered how you were only wearing a light dress, noticing the goosebumps that had formed on your bare legs. Inevitably, you nodded.

He surprised you again by taking off his suit jacket and draping it over your shoulders. The fabric felt heavy, enveloping you like a warm blanket.

“Thank you,” you silently mumbled, noticing a small dimple appear in his cheek.

He sat down in front of you, resting his arms on the table between you, as though compelled to get as close as possible. The moment felt intimate, your eyes locked on his tender brown ones, making the world fade around you. “I believe you.”

For a moment, you just stared at him, a frown formed on your face as you realized he wasn’t about to say more. “What?”

“I believe you,” he repeated in the same composed manner. He leaned forward even further, and it was then that you noticed you had subconsciously mirrored his movement, drawn to him like a magnetic pull. 

“They suspect you, but I don’t.”

He didn’t need to rephrase his words for you to understand who he meant by them. You could almost feel the other agents’ glaring stares pressing down on you through the glass.

“Try to forget about them,” he reminded you, as if reading your thoughts. You didn’t look up to face him, instead your focus was on the proximity of your hands on the table, his finger just inches away from touching yours. Spencer noticed the look in your eyes, and moved his little finger just enough to brush against yours.

An electric shock coursed through you. Simultaneously, both of you shuddered, stunned as you saw the other wearing the same stupefied expression. Sure, it could’ve been a static shock, but something told you it was more than that. And by the look of the curly haired agent, he felt the same.

“Why don’t you?” you asked, returning to the subject. “Suspect me, I mean.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. “Because I know what it’s like to be in a situation like you are.” He saw the confusion written on your face, continuing his explanation. “There’s something about being in a room like this — being treated like you’re guilty before you even speak — that makes you start questioning your own truth.” 

Questions flooded your mind, but you chose not to press further. You had someone who believed you, you weren’t going to ruin that opportunity by being too curious.

“So, what now?” your voice sounded more sure, hopeful even.

“Usually, we ask people if they’re willing to take a polygraph exam,” he explained. “It can also be referred to as a lie detector test, even though that term is often used incorrectly. A professional will ask a series of questions, and as you answer, the device will measure multiple psychological indicators which are associated with lying, like your blood pressure and pulse. I know it can sound scary, but in cases like these — when there’s no clear evidence — it might be the only thing keeping you from going to prison.”

His words hit you hard, though the gleam in his eyes remained soft. You inhaled deeply before nodding. “I’ll do it.”

-`♡´-

“She’s telling the truth.”

You hadn’t known pure relief until now. Your eyes closed, trying to stop the flood of emotions from flowing in when the pressure cuffs and sensors were being removed from your arms and hands. You didn’t know whether to cry or to cheer, but when you opened your eyes and saw Spencer — who had introduced himself as Dr. Reid, smiling at you, you were sure everything would turn out okay.

“Impossible,” the agent who questioned you earlier huffed under his breath.

The chief who had introduced himself as Aaron Hotchner walked up to you. “For now you’re free to go. However, this case isn’t closed yet. You’ll remain our primary suspect until we find more proof.”

The sharpness in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. You kept quiet as he and the other agents left the room, leaving you alone with Dr. Reid.

He closed the distance between you two, standing near enough that he could see all the details on your face. He fought the urge to tuck the loose strings of hair behind your ear, to hold you and tell you that you were okay.

“You did really well,” he said with a soft smile. “Your heartbeat stayed on an average of 70 beats per minute, only going up to 86 once, which is still in the normal range.”

“Did you peek at the monitor?” you jokingly teased.

“I- uh, no. I just counted.” Spencer shyly admitted, earning a playful grin from you. You took his hand in yours, his palm slightly sweaty, as if he was nervous about the outcome too. Then you placed his hand on your chest, right where your heart was. “What about now? Higher than average?”

He swallowed, a blush creeping up his neck. “95 beats per minute.”

The tension between you was palpable, though his touch felt comforting. Your hand was placed over his, and you could both feel the way your heartbeat steadily decreased as you brushed your fingers soothingly over his.

“Can I drive you home?” Spencer offered.

You bit your lip in an effort to hide your grin, but then the corners of your mouth slightly dropped. “I don’t really have a place to stay.”

His brows lifted in surprise, but an empathetic twinkle appeared in his bambi eyes. “You could stay at my place.”

Spencer wasn’t sure why the words came out, but he meant them. He could practically hear the voices of his team telling him to not get involved with someone on a case, let alone a potential suspect. But it wasn’t like he was the first person to do so. And he wouldn’t waste the opportunity of getting closer to you. Maybe if he could get to know you better, if he could make you comfortable enough to open up to him, he could prove to everyone that you were innocent. Because deep down, he knew you were.

-`♡´-

“Hey, hey, hey! What are you doing, man?” Morgan called out, rushing after Spencer, who had just entered the bullpen to grab his satchel bag before heading out with you.

“Hotch told me I could go home,” he hastily replied, stuffing his papers into his bag.

“Yeah, two hours ago. Before you decided to flirt with a suspect,” he exclaimed in frustration.

“I didn’t flirt with her,” Spencer recounted under his breath.

Morgan let out a dry laugh. “Everyone saw what went on in that room, Reid,” he shook his head in disbelief. “I would’ve least expected this from someone like you.”

“Someone like me doesn’t exist anymore, Derek,” Spencer snapped, a sharp edge to his voice. “I’m not who I was before prison, and neither will I ever be that person again. However, I can help her from turning into someone like me. So, if you don’t mind, I am leaving now.” 

He left Morgan at a loss of words as he walked off. You were waiting on him; your posture stiffened as you wrapped his jacket closer around you. Gently, Spencer threaded his fingers through yours and guided you to the elevator.

Once inside, Spencer pressed the button to the ground floor, then leaned his head back to the wall, letting out a fatigued sigh.

“I am sorry for causing you trouble,” you apologized, nervously picking at the fabric of his jacket that hung loosely over your arms.

His gaze softened, and he shook his head before he reached out to hold your hand once more. It was ironic how he longed for your grounding touch. “You’re not causing me any trouble. I’m sorry for the way they’re treating you. It’s our job to be cautious, to not easily trust someone.”

You squeezed his hand. “But you trust me,” you stated, though it came out more as a question, waiting for confirmation.

His other hand lifted up to touch your cheek, and his heart warmed at how you instinctively leaned into his touch. “I do.”

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “Can you prove it to me?”

He responded with a soft chuckle, reaching up to cup your face in his large palms. You rose to your tiptoes, leaning in until his sweet lips found yours.

-`♡´-

Spencer had expected to spend the ride home talking to you. Instead, you spent the entire ride trying to resist the urge to climb on top of each other. Once he tasted your lips, he couldn’t get enough, and neither could you.

Your giggle sounded through the dimly lit halls of his apartment complex as he dragged you up the stairs. 

“Hurry,” you impatiently chuckled as he struggled to find his keys in his bag. He joined your giddy laughter as you entered the apartment. The second he shut the door close, he gently pressed you against the wall, his lips finding yours again. You let out a satisfied hum, your fingers sliding into the soft curls of his hair, tugging on it as he bit down on your bottom lip.

“Wait—one second,” he murmured.

“No,” you pouted, capturing his lips. 

He kissed you back—then again, and again—before finally pulling away. “I just need to put my gun away.”

“Fine,” you mumbled, pressing one last kiss to his lips. “Just make it quick.”

He gave you a big grin and walked to the cupboard, where his safe was hidden behind his jackets and a row of spare shoes. It felt strange to have someone in his apartment. Strange to be smiling so brightly, to feel so much, after the emptiness prison has brought him. But strange didn’t mean bad. It felt new. And new could be good. You could be good.

His fingers pressed down on the familiar buttons: 62383. With a soft click, the lock opened; he took his gun from its holster on his pants and safely put it away.

When he turned back, he saw you leaning against the wall, a sweet expression on your face as you awaited him. He strode toward you, immediately pulling you in and kissing you fiercely.

Spencer was aware of his actions. Aware that he shouldn’t be doing what he was about to do with you. But as his hand made contact with the warm skin of your inner thighs, and as your sweet sounds filled the air, he chose to simply not care.

-`♡´-

The next morning you woke up with messy curls tingling against your face. You chuckled as Spencer lay asleep with his head resting on your chest. Your fingers ached with the urge to graze them through his hair, to press a soft kiss to the top of his head. Instead, you held your breath as you climbed from underneath him.

The golden sun shone brightly through the curtains, illuminating your surroundings. You tiptoed through the room, gathering the items of clothes one by one, until you were fully dressed. 

Wearing yesterday’s dress sent a shiver through your body, being reminded of the long hours spent in that bleak interrogation room. 

You mumbled a sorry, before opening his closet and fishing a T-shirt out of it, a blue one with a faded Caltech logo, barely visible. You ignored the thoughts forming in your head, the itch to want to know more about the man who was still sleeping soundlessly in the bed that you shared. 

Once you found yourself a suitable pair of pants, Spencer started groaning from the other side of the room. You turned around, catching his hand patting down the empty space beside him, as if in search of the heat of your body. It felt irresistible to not check up on him. You slowly made your way to his side of the bed, crouching down and lightly stroking his face. His eyes blinked open, and the way he smiled made your heart churn. 

“I need to go,” you softly whispered to him.

His smile faltered. “Where to?” He sat up straighter on the bed, but you gently pushed him back down.

“Will I see you again?” Spencer asked when you didn’t respond.

Your lips curled in a smile, “I’m sure you will.”

And sure you were, because as soon as you left the bedroom, you were headed to the cupboard, pushing aside the jackets that hung on the hooks, until your eyes landed on the shining steel safe. 

62383.

The lock sprung open, and in a swift motion you took the gun and hid it in the bottom of your purse. I will be seeing you again, Spencer. Just under different circumstances.

[starsofang]

thinking about johnny being completely smitten with an extremely reserved reader <3

johnny was head over heels from the very beginning. he couldn’t pinpoint when it had happened, but maybe it was when you first joined the force. at the initial greeting, he’d struck you with one of his bright smiles, only for a blank canvas to stare in return.

you hadn’t said a word, not a peep, and while others would be turned off by such reclusiveness, he was in awe.

an enigma, you were, and johnny was someone who loved a good puzzle.

you were cold and distant, but not in the way that was cruel and unnerving. you didn’t throw out snarky comments, you didn’t show a single bit of rudeness when somebody’s ticked you off. you weren’t hard headed, nor did you pitch a fight. you were a calm sea with peaceful waves lapping at the shore. a light rain on a dry day, one where in ancient times would’ve been a blessing from the gods. as cold as snow, but the kind that layered the ground in a fresh sheet of white right after a blizzard, painting the earth with powdered beauty.

if anything, you weren’t cold at all. you were just so incredibly awkward that johnny couldn’t help but be smitten by it.

you were that type of awkward where social cues were nearly impossible for you to comprehend. jokes didn’t land quite right whenever somebody made them, and you’d give a blank look to whomever fell victim, added on with a dumb “what?” because you didn’t understand it.

johnny’s been an unfortunate victim on many occasions. he’s always the type to nudge you on the shoulder with a crooked grin as he spilled out whatever joke ghost had told him over comms, only to be met with your complete and utter confusion.

that never stopped him, though. if anything, it made him much more determined to search up more jokes on the screen of a burner phone, reading through every single one and noting them in the back of his mind.

you were also as stone-faced as could be. some theorized you were a robot, others thought you were a demon in disguse. an experiment, placed into 141 as a trial run.

really, expressing yourself just wasn’t your thing.

you felt emotions, sure. plenty of them. you could find the humor in the occasional bar night with the force, amused at the linger of carefree conversation that carried between the men. you just didn’t show it.

it wasn’t something you realized until johnny had made the point of asking you if you ever smiled. thinking back on it, you recalled never directly doing so. you’d do it in your head, but when it came down to it, no, no you didn’t.

johnny was determined when keeping a goal in mind, and found himself ruthlessly running towards that goal of seeing you smile. he was enamored in the thought of seeing the slant of your lips when they curved upwards, in seeing your eyes crinkle and glimmer with delight, and he’d go through every single joke website in order to make it happen.

it took him an approximate year of you being in the force to get it to work.

it was lame, really. hardly one of his best jokes, he’d drunkenly slurred out, “what rank are all cats in the army? corpurrral,” with a tongue roll effect to go with it.

you had burst into laughter, filling the bar air with ringing church bells that he swore made the drunken state of his mind believe he was truly on his way to heaven. the gates had opened, inviting him in. he was levitating, slowly floating his way to the clouds.

your smile was like a breath of air — refreshing. it filled his lungs with such purity that all the cigarettes he’d smoked over the years of being in the force seemingly melted the thick layer of tar away, leaving him clean and refurbished.

it was like a drug, and johnny found himself seeking more out to get another taste, even if it took him another year to do so.

this is lowkey self insert bc this is my personality offline and i think other people who are so painfully awkward with socializing are cute and deserve love. wrote this with no sleep and a dream, silly ramble before i go to bed

i also just really love johnny, goodnight

[wayfind-er]

Positive Depictions of Zeus

Peter Paul Ruben, "Jupiter and Mercury at Philemon and Baucis" (1632)

Titles & Epithets of Zeus

As a Fair and Merciful God

Μειλιχιος [Milichius]: Gracious, Merciful

Ευηνεμος [Evenemus]: Of Fair Winds

As a Bringer of Abundance and Prosperity

Επιδωτης [Epidotes]: Giver of Good

Πλουσιος [Plusius]: Of Wealth

Απημιος [Apemius]: Averter of Ills

As a Leader, Chief, and King

Βασιλευς [Basileus]: King, Chief, Ruler

Ὑπατος [Hypatus]: Supreme, Most High

Monarch of the Sky (by Homer and Virgil)*

Sire of Gods and Men (by Homer and Virgil)*

ἀρχὸς ἁπάντων [Archus Apantôn]: Commander of All Things*

As a Protector of People, Cities, and Homes

Κτησιος [Ctesius]: Of the House, Property

Λαοιτης [Laoites]: Of (all) the People

Φυξιος [Phyxius]: Of Refuge / Puts to Flight

Ξενιος [Xenius]: Of Strangers, Hospitality

ἀγοραῖος [Agoraios]: Protector of Public Places (assemblies)*

If you're interested in other epithets: LINK || LINK*

Artistic Depictions of Zeus

Francisco Bayeu y Subías, "The Fall of the Giants,"

Charles-Antoine Coypel, "Jupiter and Juno on Mount Ida"

Cornelis van Poeleburgh, “Feast of the Gods”

Maurice Denis, "Jupiter bestows Immortality on Psyche"

Myths with Zeus

War of the Titans: In this myth, Zeus' father, Cronus, has received the prophecy that one of his children will dethrone him. Out of fear, Cronus swallows all of his children as soon as his wife, Rhea, births them. Rhea manages to sneak out one, Zeus. Eventually, Zeus saves his siblings and starts a revolution against his father, resulting in a 10-year war called the Titanomachy. Zeus and his siblings end up victorious, and Cronus is dethroned and thrown into the pit of Tartarus.

Vows of Chasity: At the request of Hestia and Artemis, Zeus vowed that he would accept the two to remain as virgin Goddesses.

Reconciliation of Zeus and Hera: Hera was mad at Zeus and left Olympus for unknown reasons. Zeus couldn't change her mind, so he went to the cleverest man in the land, Kithaeron. Kithaeron told Zeus to spread the news that he would marry a nymph and craft a wooden statue to play the bride. Zeus did so, and naturally, Hera came back angry. However, instead of a wedding, Zeus surprised Hera with a grand festival (called Daidala), and the two reconciled. 

Hera & the Lust of Ixon: Ixon, a mortal King, fell in love with Hera during a visit to Olympus. He tried to rape Hera, to which Hera immediately reported to Zeus. To see if what she said was true, Zeus created a cloud in the sky which looked like Hera. Ixon, who saw the cloud and thought it was Hera, attacked it. Zeus punished Ixon by binding him to an eternally spinning wheel of fire in Tartarus.

Forgiveness of Cronus and the Titans: After many, many generations of Humans, Zeus forgave his father, Cronus, and freed him (and Cronus' brothers) from their prison in Tartarus. Zeus then made Cronus the King of the Elysian Islands (Home of Dead Heroes and the otherwise Blessed).

Orphic Hymn 15: To Zeus

"O Zeus, much-honoured, Zeus supremely great, to thee our holy rites we consecrate, our prayers and expiations, king divine, for all things to produce with ease through mind is thine.

Hence mother earth and mountains swelling high proceed from thee, the deep and all within the sky. Kronion (Cronion) king, descending from above, magnanimous, commanding, sceptred Zeus; all-parent, principle and end of all, whose power almighty shakes this earthly ball; even nature trembles at thy mighty nod, loud-sounding, armed with lightning, thundering god.

Source of abundance, purifying king, O various-formed, from whom all natures spring; propitious hear my prayer, give blameless health, with peace divine, and necessary wealth."

Homeric Hymn 23: To the Son of Cronos

“I will sing of Zeus, chiefest among the gods and greatest, all-seeing, the lord of all, the fulfiller who whispers words of wisdom to Themis as she sits leaning towards him.

Be gracious, all-seeing Son of Cronos, most excellent and great!”

Divider by @/vibeswithrenai

[beloved-of-john]

I'm so genuinely heartened to see Pope Francis make this statement for the dignity and sanctity of Palestinian life.

The "Nativity of Bethlehem 2024" unveiled by Pope Francis, crafted by Palestinian artisans from Bethlehem, shows the infant Jesus laying on a Keffiyeh.

Around the star of Bethlehem above are the words "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men" (Luke 2:14) in both Latin and Arabic.

The Pope also made this statement:

It's so important this Advent to remember that Jesus was a Palestinian Jew, and that there is an ongoing genocide against the very people through which He came to us. We cannot contemplate Biblical Bethlehem without remembering the horrors that plague modern day Bethlehem.

On a personal note, as a trans Catholic-in-training, I've been pretty disappointed with Pope's public statements recently on issues such as trans rights, so I'm glad to see him make a stance on the right side of history.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Caught at the last second with Clark Kent?

.⋆｡The Fall｡⋆.

Clark Kent x plus size reader

Faced with a choice between you and Lois, Clark has to decide who lives and who dies

Warnings: angst, fear of heights, literally a life and death situation guys, unrequited love (maybe), vivid imagery of drowning, kind of ambiguous but happy ending (you’ll see) WC: 1.1k

6k Follower Celebration Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

“Isn’t this a predicament Superman? Your ex-lover and your best friend in such precarious situations, across the globe from each other. You’ll only have time to save one of them.” The LEDs of the monitors behind Luther seared into Clarks eyes but he refused to look away. Already his muscles were tensed, ready to dart away at any moment. “I wonder which one you will choose, I know which one I would.” 

Luther smirked, eyeing the monitor that clearly displayed your panicked face as you struggled against the chains wrapped tightly around your soft body. “She is quite the fighter, isn’t she?”

“Why are you doing this Luther?” The man rolled his eyes, finally turning to look at Clark.

“Why wouldn’t I? You are a nuisance, self-righteous, and aggravatingly nosy. If I kill one of them, and I will, I think you’ll learn your lesson. So, here we are. Lois Lane, the only woman you have ever loved, suspended over a cliff somewhere in Europe,” Luther gestured to the image of Lois, her head raising as his voice repeated over the feed and Clark realised that they could both hear what was happening, “and your best friend. The woman who has never stopped supporting you, somewhere in the Pacific with an anchor attached to her, I’m sure you can imagine what her fate is.” The man had the audacity to laugh then, as your expression fell and you stopped struggling.

“You don’t have to do this Luther. Just let them go and I’ll spare you.” 

Lex hummed. “You know, you’re right. This is quite boring by my standards, let’s shake it up.” Suddenly, a ground of masked men surrounded you, briefly blocking the camera before there was a scuffle and the feed cut off. Before Clark could react, another camera turned on, showing the criss-crossing metal beams of a crane as cables in the background shifted in the high winds. “Give them a minute, would you? Not all of us can move so quickly.” 

“I’m going to rip you apart, molecule by molecule.” Red creeped into Clark’s vision, slowly casting a haze of rage over everything.

“Now, if you kill me, you won’t get a hint as to where your women are. So be a good boy and watch. Ah, there she is.” Two men had you by your arms as they dragged you through the crane’s walkway, your eyes squeezed shut. Clark knew how badly you hated heights, descending into panic attacks if he even mentioned taking you out on a flight. His chest burned with fear. “And now, we have a level playing field. So, who are we picking?”

Your chains were thrown onto the edge of the structure, almost out of the camera’s line of sight, the huge iron anchor balancing treacherously by your feet. 

“Kal!” His eyes darted over to the second monitor where Lois was now fighting against a pulley that was quickly tugging her towards a sheer cliff face. Only her hands were bound by thick rope but he knew that as soon as her full body weight pulled on it, the rope would snap. 

“What’s the hint?” He snarled, ripping his gaze back to Lex Luther who was now beaming.

——————

The cold wind was like knives against your exposed skin, cutting into every nerve on your body. You desperately prayed that you would go numb soon, not wanting your last moments on this Earth to be ones full of pain. Your nails bit into the palms of your hands as another gust of wind made the crane groan and sway. It was all you could do not to scream.

Yet you kept your mouth firmly shut because you knew that if you said or did anything now, it would only feed into Clark’s guilt. He was going to pick Lois and you wanted to give him peace of mind. You forced your eyes open to watch the sunset. Your death would not be quick, even with the dizzying height, it would not be enough to kill you. Instead, you would be dragged to the depths as salt water filled your lungs and your screams forcefully ripped from you.

You wouldn’t blame Clark as you sank, you hope that you could instead think about his smile as the dim light above you disappeared into the blue.

You would not tell him that you loved him, refused to leave that weight on his soul when he already carried so much pain within him. But you would imagine a life with him, a kid, maybe two in a small townhouse somewhere quiet, as the pressure and cold consumed you. 

Lois’s voice crackled through the intercom by your head, distorted and warped. A band of fear wrapped tightly around your chest, pressing down harder than the metal chain keeping your arms pinned to your sides. You forced yourself to breathe in the salty air, knowing that it could be your last.

“I’ll be ok Clark, don’t worry about me. Just be happy, that’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.” And as the sun dipped below the horizon, you let your eyes shut again, your entire body relaxed. “I’ll be ok.”

Metal scrapped against metal. You were pulled forwards. 

The wind screamed.

You could see the vivid blue of his eyes.

You were weightless.

You could hear his laughter.

The chains rattled.

You saw the moment you met him; the rain around you, a single umbrella between you.

The sound of waves crashing was getting closer. 

He was always so kind, so warm. You never knew a man better than him. 

Gravity slammed into you, knocking a pained cry from your lips. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” Warmth enveloped you as something crashed into the ocean, droplets of water splashing against your ankles. Your cheek was pressed against something hard as a loud, frantic beating filled your ears. “You’re safe.”

Soft fabric wrapped around you, soothing the burn of your skin. Shakily, you reached up, your limbs stiff and aching. “Clark?” With all the strength you had left, you opened your eyes.

You were barely 5 feet up front the ocean swell, a hazy ring of bubbles below you was the only indication that something had been dragging you down at all. Clark was indeed there, holding you tightly to his chest as a huge abandoned oil rig loomed behind him, half of it on fire. His eyes were wide, fearfully examining every inch of your body before his shoulders drooped and he sighed in relief.

“No broken bones or internal bleeding. Thank god.” His lips descended onto your forehead, pressing kiss after kiss to your cold skin.

“You picked me?” He pulled away only enough to look into your eyes. 

“I always will.” A hand cupped the back of your neck, drawing your face upwards. Your lips parted as he glanced at them. “I will do anything to keep you safe.”

And as the fires behind him, Clark finally kissed you, washing away the smell of blood and screams of pain that he had inflicted upon those who took you from him. No one would ever hurt you again.

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[lilbabypanda-blog2]

Phainon x (fem)reader (7)

Part6 Part7

The air was thick with tension—and, in Phainon’s case, lingering grief over his stolen sandwich.

The trio combed through the ruins, eyes sharp for any sign of the thief. They followed faint disturbances in the moss, the occasional misplaced stone, and what looked like small drag marks in the dirt, as if something had been carrying away their stolen goods.

“This thing better not be using my armor as furniture,” Mydei muttered, stepping over a fallen pillar.

“Or my coat,” Phainon added dramatically.

“Or the sandwich,” Y/N deadpanned.

Phainon sighed, placing a hand over his heart. “May it rest in peace.”

Mydei groaned. “It’s literally not dead.”

As they moved deeper into the ruins, Y/N’s keen eyes caught something—at first, just a slight indentation in the wall, almost imperceptible beneath layers of ivy.

She stepped closer, brushing aside the vines, revealing a small opening in the stone.

It was barely large enough for a person to fit through.

She crouched down, peering inside. The tunnel beyond was dark, but not entirely. Faint light flickered somewhere deep within, casting strange shadows against the walls.

“We’ve got something,” she called over her shoulder.

Phainon and Mydei joined her, inspecting the opening.

Phainon brightened. “A secret passage? Oh, this is exciting—” He moved to step forward—only to immediately stop when he realized something.

The opening was way too small for him.

“…Oh,” he muttered.

Mydei crossed his arms. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”

Phainon turned to Mydei. “…You’re not fitting either.”

“Obviously.”

Y/N, still examining the entrance, spoke up. “I can fit.”

Both men immediately turned to her.

Phainon’s enthusiasm vanished. “Absolutely not.”

Mydei frowned. “No way.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “It’s the only option. You two aren’t squeezing through there unless you plan on dislocating every joint in your body.”

“I could try,” Phainon said optimistically.

“No, you can’t,” Mydei replied flatly.

Y/N ignored them, already checking the structure of the wall. “It looks stable. And I can see some light further in—if I can find another way to open it up from the inside, you two can follow.”

Phainon frowned deeply, looking at the entrance like it had personally offended him. “I don’t like this.”

Mydei sighed, rubbing his temples. “Look, I don’t like it either, but she’s right. We’re too big, and wasting time arguing isn’t helping.”

Phainon looked at Y/N, concerned. “But what if—”

“I’ll be fine,” she cut him off with a reassuring smile. “I’ll check it out, find a way to widen the passage, and you guys can follow. Simple.”

Phainon still looked unconvinced, but he knew she wasn’t going to back down. With a dramatic sigh, he threw his hands up. “Alright. But if anything happens, yell, and I will—somehow—squeeze my way in there.”

“Same,” Mydei muttered, though far less dramatically.

Y/N smirked. “Noted.”

Taking a deep breath, she crouched down and began to shimmy her way into the tunnel, disappearing into the darkness.

Phainon leaned closer, trying to watch her progress. “Y/N, if you see my sandwich in there, grab it—”

“Not the priority, Phainon,” Mydei snapped.

And just like that, Y/N was gone.

The two men stood in silence, staring at the small, dark opening.

Phainon shifted uncomfortably. “Sooo… what now?”

Mydei exhaled. “Now? We wait.”

“…I hate waiting.”

“I know.”

They both turned back toward the tunnel, listening for anything—any sound, any movement, any sign of Y/N.

Y/N moved carefully through the narrow tunnel, her elbows and knees scraping against the rough stone as she wriggled forward. The air was damp, carrying the faint scent of moss and earth. The deeper she crawled, the warmer it got, as if something alive lurked ahead.

She wasn’t scared. Not really.

…Okay, maybe a little bit.

Eventually, she reached the end. The passage widened just enough for her to slide down, and with an unceremonious plop, she landed on the cave floor.

Pushing herself up, she dusted off her clothes and looked around—

And froze.

The cavern stretched out before her, dimly lit by cracks in the ceiling where faint streams of light seeped through. But that wasn’t what made her breath hitch.

It was the massive hoard of stolen items.

Piles of goods were stacked haphazardly—merchant crates, trinkets, food, pieces of armor, even a familiar white and gold coat.

“…Well,” Y/N muttered to herself, hands on her hips. “This is definitely not a sandwich shrine.”

She took a cautious step forward, her eyes sweeping over the stolen goods. Some of these things had clearly been taken from the city, maybe even weeks ago. There were things that shouldn’t be together—gold jewelry tossed next to half-eaten fruit, finely woven fabrics draped over broken weapons. It was a bizarre collection, like someone had been hoarding anything that caught their fancy.

And then, among the clutter, she spotted Phainon’s half-eaten sandwich, perfectly placed on top of a velvet cushion like some sort of prized artifact.

Y/N snorted. Of course.

She took another step forward—

And something jumped on her from behind.

Her heart stopped.

A weight slammed against her back, small but incredibly fast, its grip clinging onto her.

She didn’t even have time to react before a sharp, high-pitched screech filled the cavern.

“AAAHHHH!”

She screamed.

The thing on her back screamed.

Somewhere in the distance, she vaguely heard Phainon and Mydei screaming too.

Phainon’s entire body went rigid the moment Y/N’s scream echoed through the tunnel.

Mydei snapped to attention, his hand immediately gripping his sword.

A beat of silence.

Then—

“DID YOU HEAR THAT?!” Phainon shouted, already pacing in panicked circles.

“No, Phainon, I’m just standing here for fun,” Mydei snapped. “Of course I heard it!”

Phainon whirled toward the tunnel, pure instinct kicking in. “I’m going in—”

“You can’t fit, you idiot!” Mydei grabbed the back of Phainon’s coat before he could try and wedge himself into the hole headfirst.

Phainon flailed. “BUT Y/N—”

“I KNOW.” Mydei’s grip tightened, barely holding him back.

Another muffled noise came from the tunnel, followed by what sounded like a scuffle.

Phainon made a distressed noise. “SHE’S BEING ATTACKED BY SOMETHING, WE HAVE TO—”

“What part of we won’t fit do you not understand?!” Mydei snapped, though there was clear concern in his voice.

Phainon stopped struggling—but only for a second—before he turned, gripping Mydei’s arms desperately. “We have to do something!”

“I AM OPEN TO SUGGESTIONS.”

Y/N’s heart was still racing as she turned to face her attacker.

And then she froze.

Perched on the cave floor in front of her was the smallest, strangest, yet most absurdly adorable creature she had ever seen.

It looked like a chubby orange cat, but with tiny curved horns on its head and a pair of bat-like wings that twitched as it stared at her. Its fur was slightly unkempt, its long tail flicking anxiously. Despite its wide, startled eyes, it didn’t look particularly dangerous—just… guilty.

Y/N blinked.

The creature blinked back.

“…You’re the thief?” she asked, still half-expecting some terrifying monster to pop out from the shadows.

The chimera let out a small, high-pitched chirp, like a mix between a purr and a squeak.

And then, realizing it was no longer on her back, it panicked.

The tiny creature flailed its wings, trying to scramble back up onto her. It flapped, stumbled, and missed entirely, bonking face-first into her chest before sliding dramatically to the ground.

Y/N blinked down at it. “…Uh.”

The chimera flopped onto its back and dramatically played dead.

Silence.

Y/N’s lips twitched.

It was so stupidly cute.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she crouched down slowly, careful not to startle it. The chimera peeked up at her with big, wary eyes, its little paws tucked close to its chest.

She extended a hand, palm facing up.

At first, the chimera hesitated. Its tiny ears flicked, and its tail swished as if debating whether she was a threat.

Then, after a long pause, it took a tentative step forward.

It sniffed her hand, its tiny nose twitching.

Y/N remained perfectly still.

And then—

With a soft little trill, it bumped its head against her palm.

A grin spread across her face. “There you go.” Gently, she ran her fingers over its fur, feeling its warmth. The chimera let out a deep, contented purr, pressing further into her touch.

Y/N chuckled. “So you’re the one stealing everything, huh?”

The chimera gave a little chirp in response, its wings fluttering slightly.

She glanced around at the hoard of stolen goods, connecting the dots. This little thing had been snatching anything it found interesting—armor, food, fabric… even Phainon’s sandwich.

“…You’ve got expensive taste,” she muttered, amused.

The chimera rolled onto its back again, paws wiggling.

Y/N let out a breath, shaking her head. “Alright, you little menace. What am I supposed to do with you?”

Before the chimera could answer—

“Y/N?!”

Phainon’s frantic voice echoed from the tunnel.

But he got no answer.

Phainon was panicking.

The moment Y/N’s voice cut off, his brain went straight to worst-case scenario mode. Maybe she was being attacked. Maybe she got hurt. Maybe—

“I CAN’T HEAR HER ANYMORE,” Phainon practically yelled, already moving toward the tunnel entrance.

“Phainon, wait—” Mydei started, but it was too late.

With absolutely zero hesitation, Phainon threw himself at the tunnel, trying to squeeze through.

It did not go well.

For the first half second, he thought he had a chance. His shoulders barely fit, but if he just wriggled a bit—

—Nope.

He was stuck.

“Ah,” Phainon said blankly, blinking at the cave wall in front of him. “…I seem to have made a mistake.”

From behind, Mydei let out the deepest, most exhausted sigh.

“Phainon,” Mydei said, deadpan.

“Yes?”

“Are you actually—” Mydei cut himself off with a slow inhale. “Alright. Stay calm. I’ll get you out.”

“I am calm,” Phainon replied, voice slightly muffled.

“No, you’re not,” Mydei muttered, grabbing Phainon’s shirt and yanking.

Nothing.

Mydei scowled and pulled harder.

Still nothing.

Phainon grunted. “Ow. Mydei—”

“Shut up.”

“I think I’m really—”

“SHUT UP.”

With one final pull, Mydei wrenched Phainon out of the tunnel, sending him crashing onto the ground.

Phainon groaned, rolling onto his back. “That was unpleasant.”

“Oh, really?” Mydei muttered, hands on his hips. “And here I thought you enjoyed getting stuck in small, tight spaces.”

Phainon sighed dramatically, staring at the ceiling. “We still can’t get to her.”

A brief silence.

Then, Mydei exhaled through his nose. “Alright. Screw it.”

Phainon sat up, eyes narrowing. “What do you mean, screw it—?”

Mydei cracked his knuckles.

His veins pulsed with crimson light, a sharp, crystalline glow sparking along his forearms. The air shifted, a faint heat radiating from him as his power surged.

Phainon’s eyes widened. “Oh. Oh.”

With one powerful swing, Mydei slammed his crimson-crystallized fist into the rock wall—

BOOM.

The tunnel entrance exploded outward, stone and dust flying everywhere. A fresh, wide opening now stood where the tiny passage had been.

Phainon blinked through the dust cloud.

Mydei rolled his shoulders, flexing his fingers as the last traces of glowing red energy faded from his skin. “There. Problem solved.”

Phainon stared at him for a long moment.

Then, with zero hesitation, he clapped.

“That was amazing.”

Mydei shot him a glare. “Shut up and get in the cave.”

Phainon grinned, already moving. “Yes, sir.”

And with that, they hurried inside— finally able to reach Y/N.

The peaceful moment shattered when a sudden shockwave rippled through the cave.

A boom echoed from the other side of the chamber as a burst of crimson energy blasted through the tunnel entrance. The walls shook, dust and debris falling from above.

Y/N barely had time to react.

The chimera, meanwhile, had zero hesitation.

With a startled squeak, the tiny creature bolted, its wings flapping uselessly as it scampered off into the shadows.

Y/N, however, was not so lucky. The force of the explosion made her stumble backward, her foot catching on a loose rock.

“—Oh come on—!”

She went down.

A cloud of thick dust swallowed her whole, and she immediately started coughing.

From the newly blasted tunnel entrance, heavy footsteps rushed forward.

“Y/N!”

Before she could even see who it was, something crashed into her—

Or rather, someone.

Y/N let out a startled yelp as she was engulfed in warmth, strong arms wrapping tightly around her and pinning her in place.

“Oh, thank the Aeons—!” Phainon’s voice was breathless, frantic, and entirely too close.

Y/N barely had a second to process the full-body hug attack before Phainon pulled back slightly, grabbing her face between his hands. His bright blue eyes scanned her frantically, his usual carefree expression replaced with deep concern.

“Are you okay?! You’re not hurt, right? Did something attack you?! How many fingers am I holding up?! Are you concussed?!”

“…Phainon,” Y/N managed between coughs. “You’re… holding my face… with both hands.”

Phainon blinked.

Slowly, he looked down at his own hands.

Then, back at Y/N.

“…Oh,” he said, as if just realizing how dramatic he was being.

A heavy sigh came from behind them.

Mydei had arrived.

Instead of immediately checking on Y/N, he stepped into the chamber and scanned the area, his entire posture tense and alert. His sharp amber-red eyes flickered over the stolen goods, the damp cave floor, and the scattering of fresh footprints.

There was no enemy in sight.

Still, Mydei kept his guard up, his fists clenching slightly. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Y/N coughed, still vaguely trapped in Phainon’s death grip. “Just a little… dust explosion.”

“…Dust explosion?” Mydei repeated flatly.

Phainon, seemingly forgetting his panic, finally realized that Y/N was still covered in dirt and dust.

“Oh, wait—” His worried frown morphed into something far worse. His golden retriever instincts kicked in, and he immediately started dusting her off—

With both hands.

Y/N let out a noise of protest as Phainon frantically patted her shoulders, her arms, and even tried to fix her hair. “What— Phainon, stop—!”

“You’re covered in dust—”

“I know—”

“We need to get you cleaned up—”

“That’s what the river is for, you maniac!”

At this point, Mydei was watching with the expression of a man who had seen too much.

His patience was already dangerously low.

“…I blew up a wall for this,” Mydei muttered to himself, rubbing his temples. “Unbelievable.”

Meanwhile, Phainon was still fussing. “Wait, did you fall? Is that why you’re coughing? Did you inhale too much dust?!”

“I—” Y/N started, only to be cut off as Phainon suddenly cupped her cheeks again.

He was so close.

Y/N could see the pink dusting his ears as he stared into her eyes, completely unaware of how much of a mess he looked himself.

“…You’re okay, right?” he asked, softly this time.

Y/N, thoroughly overwhelmed, just blinked.

From the side, Mydei groaned.

“Alright, that’s it,” he snapped, grabbing Phainon by the collar and physically dragging him away. “I refuse to stand here and watch you make heart-eyes at her like a damn lovesick fool.”

Phainon, still flustered, yelped as he was yanked backward. “Hey—!”

Y/N finally breathed properly again, blinking at the two men.

“…I don’t have heart-eyes,” Phainon mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

“Yes, you do,” Mydei grumbled, dropping him. “Now, shut up and let’s figure out what the hell was in here with her.”

A beat of silence.

Then, finally, Y/N cleared her throat. “So… about that.”

Phainon and Mydei both turned to her.

Y/N dusted off the last of the dirt from her sleeves, then gestured toward the cave entrance where the chimera had run off.

“I may have found the thief,” she admitted. “And… it’s kind of adorable.”

Both men stared at her.

“…Come again?” Mydei said slowly.

Y/N just smiled.

“Trust me,” she said. “You’ll see.”

The culprit

[wis-art]

The worst period of my life was when I was a self hating teenager in denial about being transgender. I grew up in a deeply abusive household and my father expected me to be his manly son and I tried to conform despite it driving me insane, I fell down many nasty rabbitholes because of my insecurities rooted in deep hatred of my body and deep hatred of what I should be, I have always felt uneasy looking at men in cartoons and movies thinking to myself how much I don't want to become that, always envying the girls and always dreaming about waking up as a girl. This all lead me online because I felt so isolated from the world and I couldn't relate to anybody. Of course an unmedicated self hating teenager, with grand delusions about being god's little special soldier, seeking ANY validation is bound to fall into some horrible places, i am one of the victims of the alt right pipeline, and it did drive me into suicidal spirals many times over how much I hated myself for being transgender. Eventually I snapped out of it and grew out of it but the taste in my mouth of ever associating myself with that kind of community is really disgusting and never seems to wash off from my tongue, which I suppose is good since I never want to be back there mentally. I despise the right wingers, seeing and experiencing their beliefs first hand, it's all just driven by hate and insecurity, the only reason why it's so popular is because these people prey on lack of knowledge and insecurity of any kind, offering easy solutions and quick fixes, putting an easy target to direct your hate towards just to deflect the hate away from yourself. It is not a valid or real solution or even political ideology, it's a grift and a worldview sold to people who know their future is uncertain, it's harnessing the societal instability and crisis for political and financial gain, and I was a sucker for it in my teenage years for which I apologize. Nowadays I am unapologetically a leftist, with flaws and gaps in knowledge, like any other human on this earth but fundamentally different and changed from when I was a kid, and I am proud of myself and I am proud to be the bad transgender bitch that I am. It took so much effort, medicine, therapy, help from my family, help from my friends for me to realize that I was wrong and that I need to change. I did not do it alone. And I'm glad I did it, and I'm happy to ve fortunate enough to receive help and support despite being a toxic unpleasant person to be around. All so I can just be Wis in peace a weird transgender woman on the internet, drawing trans women who despise the fascists and nazis. It's also why I so deeply believe in people changing and why I am so adamantly against harassing people for their mistakes for years, it just doesn't help, all it does is makes one ashamed and all shame does is drive one further into the abyss of self hatred. As corny as it sounds love has saved me and it is love and patience that helps people change

[miniwheat77]

Wet. (Bratty!Reader x Brat Tamer!Price.)

!CW! NSFW, Smut, rough sex, unprotected p in v sex, spanking, MINORS DNI! (Sorry if I missed any.)

It started during a mission that you hadn’t come along for. You weren’t feeling good and you were a risk so John told you to stay back.

During this mission, he heard his men talking about you. He heard Soap first.

“Yeah, she’s a mouthy little shit I tell ya.” He hears Soap laugh. They’re trekking through dense forest together, they have been for miles. “She can be. Especially when she first wakes up.” He hears another soldier laughs. “Someone needs to tame her, she chewed me out the other day for letting the coffee pot go off. Little brat fuckin freaked out because she had to microwave it.” He laughs. “She didn’t talk to me for the rest of the day over it.” He hears his men laugh, not being able to help himself as he smiles. You really could be a brat but you were an important part of their team.

He recalls a few times he’s heard you complain but it hadn’t been that bad.

But that leads him to now. You were on his nerves all of the time.

You complained about everything, always threw a fit about what jobs he gave you, tried to pawn them off on everyone else and he was getting sick of it.

He could hear your hurried footsteps coming to his office, knowing exactly what was coming next. “Hey Captain.” You smile. “Oh god. What do you want?” He asks. You narrow your eyes. “Rude. I was just going to ask if it’d be okay if I traded watch with Soap.” You ask. “Did you ask him?” He asks. You shake your head. “Not yet.” He laughs. “You know he’s going to say no Y/N.”

You sigh. “Just.. make him trade with me just this once please?” You whine. “Why?” He asks. “Because I wanted to get a moment of peace before I had to go trade with him.” You sigh. He shakes his head, “have a seat Y/N.” He breathes. You sigh, sitting down with a huff. “I don’t know how on earth someone could be in the military and be as whiny as you, but you’ve really taken me by surprise.” He raises his eyebrows, smiling. He can see he’s already getting under your skin. “I’m not whiny.” You grit your teeth. “Yes you are. You’re always complaining about your chores, complaining about your missions, complaining about the food, about the coffee, about your sheets. I mean really, for someone in the military you’re ridiculous.” You narrow your eyes at him. “I think it’s time I teach you a lesson hm?” He smiles. “Stand up.” He nods. You hesitate for a second, but can see how serious he is. You stand up, crossing your arms. “Stand straight up, don’t cross your arms.” He laughs, shaking his head. You sigh, standing up straight and letting your hands fall to your sides. “Now get on your knees.” You look at him in confusion. “Excuse me?” You stutter. “You heard me. Get on your knees.” He breathes. You hesitate for a second, swallowing hard as you slide down onto your knees. He stands up, making his way around his desk. “Turn toward me.” He breathes, crossing his own arms.

“I need you to understand something, darling.” He smiles. He lifts your chin, forcing you to look at him. He crouches down, his face only a few centimeters from yours. “You listen to me. You obey me. Do you understand? I tell you to do a chore, you do it. I tell you to jump, the only question you need to ask, is how high. Do you understand me?” He seethes. You nod your head, closing your eyes tightly. “Stand up.” He growls, grasping a handful of your hair and forcing you over his desk, a gasp leaving your lips. “I- wait! I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.” You breathe. “I know you won’t do it again. Because I’m going to punish you.” He breathes. He reaches around your front, hearing you gasp as he unbuckles your belt, tugging your pants completely off, leaving you exposed. “I’m sorry.” You whimper. “You will be.” He breathes. You can feel him pressing into your backside, your body going rigid as you feel his bulge pressing into your ass.

What was he going to do?

“Count for me.” He breathes. You nod your head.

His hand clapping against your ass has you jumping forward. A gasp leaving your lips. “I said count.” He breathes. “O-one!” You breathe. “Captain please, I’m sorry.” You pant. Your knuckles are turning white as you clutch his desk. Your body lurches forward as his hand meets your ass again. “Two- ah!” You whine. He’s relentless, his hits are hard and you know you’re going to be sore for days. When you yelp out a “Ten!” You feel his large hands massaging your backside. Tears are streaming down your face. You feel awful and exposed to him. He leans over you, his entire front pressed up again your backside. “I tell you run, you ask how far. Do you understand me?” He seethes. You nod your head, but it’s not enough. Another slap to your ass and you’re crying out. “Yes s-sir! Yes Captain Price!” You cry. “That’s right. Now go wipe your face and trade for watch.” He steps back.

You’re shaking slightly as you step back. “Can.. can I put my pants back on?” You ask. A smile warms his face. “That’s a good girl. Much better.” He crosses his arms. “Yes you may.” He nods. You hurry to pick them up, hurrying even more to put them on. You rush out of his office without another glance.

Running straight into Soap. “Woah! You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He laughs. You smile nervously, trying to hide the embarrassment in your cheeks. “Uh.. no. Just going to trade watch.”

“I thought about it, if you really want to swap watch, I’ll trade with you.” He smiles. Your eyes widen when you hear those familiar footsteps behind you. “Uh.. no. That’s not necessary, I can handle it. See you later.” You shove passed him, hurrying away. He lets out a deep chuckle as you round the corner. “Seemed to work pretty good eh Cap?” Soap smirks at his Captain.

“Yeah, we’ll just have to see for how long.” He chuckles.

You hurry up to the watch tower, seeing Gaz sitting there patiently. “Hey Y/N.” He smiles. “Uh.. hi. You’re good to go.” You mumble. “Wow? With five minutes to spare? What’s gotten into you?” He laughs, standing up. “Just.. ready to get this over with.” You mumble. He nods his head. After saying goodnight, he disappears. You sit down without thinking about it, standing up quickly with a hiss. How dare he put his hands on you like that? Who does he think he is?

Every time you watch the cameras, you get lost in a daze. You can’t shake the way he made you feel. The way his hands felt, the way your skin crawled, and when he had you get on your knees? What the hell was that?

You can’t help it as you adjust in your seat uncomfortably. What the hell was going on?

—

You don’t know what’s gotten into you.

But the feeling of his hands on you, it’s addicting almost. The hits sting for a second but as your skin goes numb, it sends buzzing right up your spine and into your brain. Down your spine and into your core. You can’t help it. “Y/N. Aren’t you supposed to be on watch?” Captain Price asks. You look at him for a little too long before replying, which pisses him off right away. “No, I asked Soap if he’d trade.” Captain Price rolls his eyes. “What did I say about that?”

“He agreed to it.” You shrug. “Y/N. Don’t make me punish you again.” He breathes. You stare at him, emotionless.

You roll your eyes, turning away from him. As you go to take a step away from him, he’s grasping your shirt. “My office. Now.” He growls. You feel excitement flooding through you, knowing what’s about to come next.

It takes a few spankings before he finally clues into what’s going on.

You’re face down on his desk, you’re whining out a “fifteen!” It’s the fourth time this week.

“The fuck has gotten into you huh? You’re only a good girl for all of a couple days after this and than you’re right back to it. Will your ever learn?” He growls, tugging your hair back, you’re forcing back a moan. “Fuck you.” You growl. Another hit, and it’s when he notices it. The slight wiggle of your hips, squirming. His eyes are glancing down, noticing your arousal that’s slipping down your legs. His eyes are going wide.

Everything makes sense when he finally puts it all together.

A deep chuckle leaves his lips, and you know you’re caught.

“You filthy, filthy girl.” He breathes. “No wonder you’ve been such a bad girl lately.” His fingertips running up your thigh, gathering up the arousal that’s seeped out of your sweet pussy. “You fucking like when I spank you.” He seems completely shocked. “Acting like a bad girl on purpose. Getting under my skin. You’re fucking soaked, dripping down your legs for me.” He shakes his head. “This was supposed to be humiliating. Embarrassing enough to get you back to normal. Treating you like you’re a child.” He laughs, shaking his head.

“You’ll be a good girl, I’ll make sure of it.” A mewl leaves your lips when he spanks you again. You can hear rustling but you don’t know what’s going on, not until you feel his tip pressing at your entrance. A gasp leaves your lips when he pushes inside of you, filling you up to the hilt. He tugs on your hair with one hand, wrapping his other around your thigh, rubbing your clit. You cry out, moving your hips back into him. “If you like it so much, why didn’t you just say that, hm?” He chuckles. “Didn’t have to disobey me and piss me off.”

You turn to look at him, your eyes dark and full of lust. “You hit harder when you’re mad.” You breathe. He lets out a laugh, pure shock. He’s taken so off guard by you. “Yeah? You’re a bad fucking girl.” He shakes his head. He clutches your hips, pushing them into the desk until it’s digging into your hips. Hammering his hips into yours. He’s being rough. And it’s perfect. It’s just what you need.

Your legs are weak and shaky, and you’re soaking him. Barely able to hold yourself up.

“You’re a pathetic thing when you’re all worked up and horny.” He smiles. “So fucking wet for me.”

“I’ll be good.” You look back at him, whining out. “I promise I’ll be good, please.” You clench your eyes closed, holding onto his desk. “Please what? Use your words darling.” He breathes. “Please make me cum. Please let me cum Captain Price, I promise I’ll be good.” Your sudden change in tone has him smirking. “That’s the good girl I’m looking for.” He laughs tauntingly. “Look at you, doing so good. And all it took was fucking that attitude right out of you.” You whine out. John can see your arousal building at the base of his cock, and he needs to step back and really pay attention to what’s going on. He didn’t imagine this, not ever. You’re pretty and bratty. Quite a bit younger than him. He figured you’d start going after some of the younger men on base.

He grits his teeth hard when you clench tighter around him, getting closer and closer to your high.

He’s thought wrong, because here you are, bent over his desk. Crying and begging for more of him, begging him to make you cum. He’s tamed the brat inside of you. All it took was his cock.

He reaches around you, wrapping one of his hands around your throat and forcing you up. Your back pressed into him. “You wanna cum?” He breathes. You nod your head, but know it’s not enough, crying out as he starts rubbing your sensitive nub. “Yes Captain. I want to cum so bad, please please please.” You grasp his wrist, holding your hips steady. “You better let this entire base know. I want you to cry for me, I want them to hear what I do to brats on base. You understand?”

“Y-yes sir.” You whine. “Cum for me.” He growls into your ear.

The build of the climax is right there, the coil that’s wound up tight in your stomach from him stimulating you, snaps completely when he says those three words, his deep, scratchy voice is all it takes.

You’re sobbing when you finally cum. Hands gripping his desk, whining out and crying pathetically as he fucks you through your orgasm, your body is shaking and you’ve got tears streaming from your eyes. He grits his teeth. “Turn around.” He breathes. Sliding out of you with a groan. You obey him immediately. “Knees.” He breathes.

He smiles when you drop to them immediately, completely ready for anything you’re about to give him. “Open your mouth. Stick your tongue out.”

You obey him, dark, watery eyes looking up at him. You’re still breathing hard. The tear stains on your face is reeling him in, pushing him right up to the edge as he pumps his cock quickly with his hand. He groans out, hips jerking forward as he reaches his high. You flinch when you feel the thick ropes of his cum coating your tongue and lips. You stay completely still, sensitive nub throbbing at the sight of your Captain in his fucked out state. He takes a deep breath, smiling. Looking down at you.

“Swallow it.” He crosses his arms. He watches you retract your tongue between your lips, swallowing down his cum. Using your thumb to brush the remnants from your lips and sucking it clean. He bites his lip. Using his own thumb to brush some of his filth from your cheek. “Up.” He breathes. He pushes you back into his desk, lifting you up and setting you on it. He pushes his thumb into your mouth, and you suck it clean, pushing your hips up to the edge of his desk. “Awe.. you want more already?” He chuckles. You nod your head. “I’ll give you more. When you’ve earned it.” He smirks. He uses a tissue from his desk to wipe your face. He buttons his jeans but his belt still hangs unbuckled around his waist and he pushes himself between your legs.

“Quit being a brat. I’ll fuck it out of you if you just come find me.” He chuckles. You nod your head, blush rising to your cheeks. He lifts your chin to look at him. “There’s my good girl.” He smiles. Leaning into you, pressing his lips into yours for the first time. You melt into him, kissing him back desperately.

He can tell you didn’t have too much experience, but he was going to show you everything.

“What do you say?”

“Thank you, Captain Price.” You blush, looking up at him.

[mind-intheclouds342]

Do it for them - Co-captain reader x Curly

Previous - Part 13 - Next

"Swansea! Did you eat all the sweets?"

Swansea: "I don't know what you're talking about!"

He crossed his arms indignantly at your accusation, while you could see the chocolate stain on his mouth. 

Anya: "It wasn't him... I was eating the sweets you brought..."

You turned to look at her and tilted your head. 

"...You have been... very good, Anya" 

Anya: "...Thank you, captain"

"Did you left any candy? Can you share a bit with us?"

Anya: "Oh- yes, I'm very sorry for hogging them all by myself- I just wanted to eat something sweet"

"Don't worry, I understand. Just don't steal them, okay? We're just about to go home, we need to hold on a bit longer, then we'll eat whatever we want." 

Daisuke: "When we return! We'll stay in touch, right?? I don't want us to drift apart! Swansea, I want to meet your children and your wife! Oh, and I want to try the captain's food! The captain talked a lot about how much he misses her food!"

All the enthusiasm the boy had, you set aside while you slowly walked towards Anya and carefully took her hands. 

"You wear looser clothes."

Anya: "Yes..."

"...You know we have to wait three months... And three more to return?"

Anya: "I know..."

"...If that's what you wanted... I'm going to help you."

Both men were attentive to the conversation the two were having, approaching curiously. 

Swansea: "What is that whispering you two are doing?"

Instead of telling her, you looked Anya straight in the eyes, hoping she would confirm it herself. 

Anya: "I... didn't took the pills to end my pregnancy..."

Daisuke: "What??? Why???"

"That doesn't matter. It's the decision she has made and we are going to support her, we won't leave her behind."

You interrupted him and looked at the ceiling for a moment. 

"Should be born when we are already in the rescue or before it... But I didn't say anything about a pregnant crew member..."

Anya: "We can induce it, I'll be on time before they arrive anyway."

"You know the risks of that, and we don't have the equipment prepared for something like this."

Anya: "I trust you"

"Ah... You want to gave me a heart attack, don't you?" You sighed, resting your forehead on his shoulder. 

Anya: "Please no" she responded with a chuckle. 

Daisuke: "So, we're going to have a new member in the crew! Shall we give it a name?"

Swansea was about to hit Daisuke on the head to make him shut up, but Anya responded calmly. 

Anya: "I think the best thing will be not to give it a name. I plan to hand it over for adoption when we reach Earth again." 

The boy slowly raised his hand, as if asking for permission to speak. 

Daisuke: "Can I at least give it the nickname Polly? I don't wanna call it thing"

Anya: "You can call it however you want."

"Seriously? Polly? Like the mascot of Pony Express?"

You looked up just to judge him for his comment. 

Daisuke: "Of course! First baby born in space! On the Tulpar of Pony Express! Nicknamed the great pet that everyone knows!" 

"Swansea"

Swansea: "With pleasure"

Upon saying that, the man smack the back of the head of Daisuke. 

"Well, how about you take me to where you hid the candy?"

You patted the woman's shoulders, and she nodded to guide you to her room and show you where she kept them. 

Anya: "Seriously, aren't you going to ask me why I decided this?"

"My curiosity is killing me. But it was your decision, and I will respect it."

You got scared when you felt her arms around you, holding you tightly from behind. 

Anya: "...I was afraid of the pain, of infertility, and that in the future, when I want to have a family... I couldn't, and I must remember why... remember what he did to me... and the pain I felt..."

"...You are very strong... Much more than I was"

Anya: "Don't you think that... I'm a coward?"

"Not at all, I understand your reasons. And I'm glad this is going to bring you peace."

When she slowly let go of you, you turned to look at her and smile. 

"But before you even think about starting a family, I want to see you with your doctorate degree! Understood??"

You shook her several times, making her laugh.

Anya: "Do you think I can?"

"Of course! The ninth time's the charm."

You winked at her, making her laugh, and she hugged you, hiding her face in your neck, smiling sincerely. 

Anya: "I'm glad you're with us... Without you, I don't know what would become of all of us..."

"You're welcome... You are my crew... You are my responsibility."

You indicated by returning the hug.