#so i've been workshopping that for the time being

[petranaradulovic]

ok now that i've officially been booted from my work laptop/company accounts and have a bit more of my head on my shoulders:

I was just shy of my 7th anniversary at Polygon, where I was hired as an intern. I wrote a BUNCH of amazing stuff! I got to work with a bunch of spectacular people. I am so so so damn proud of our site, which apparently was doing so well that I guess Vox decided to make a quick buck off of us! Damned if you do (make a profit), damned if you don't!

In my time at Polygon, I really pushed to cover games/tv/movies/everything else through a particular lens, aka being an unabashed Tumblrina in this year of our lord 2025. Sometimes that meant being outwardly covering tumblr (like Goncharov); sometimes that was simply just gushing in a fangirlish way. I'm so grateful for all the editors who helped me along the way, all the wonderful writers I got to work with. And I am so, so disappointed in Vox Media's upper management for effectively killing one of the best sites for entertainment and gaming coverage out there.

Before I worked at Polygon, it always felt like a special place to me, because it was a gaming site that was unabashedly pink and purple and embracing a different sort of audience than what we typically associate with "gamers." For the past 7 years, I've covered rom-coms and visual novel mobile games and Jane Austen adaptations and pushed the boundaries of what our coverage could be -- while also gushing about Dragon Age, Marvel movies, anime, and other typical Gamer TM content. I always wanted to hammer home the idea that the love that fuels stereotypical "geek stuff" is applicable to all sorts of things, especially those traditionally loved by a non cis straight male audience. And when approaching the stuff like video games/comics/etc, I always approached it from my fangirly tumblirna POV.

Idk what my point is here... I guess I wanted to share this on Tumblr, because I really do owe so much of my professional career to the days I spent on here cultivating my own interests and voice. And I hope that in some way, my writing felt y'all be seen

I'm taking some time to myself before looking for new opportunities. This actually coincides with me getting a chance to attend a prestigious creative writing workshop at the end of the month. So maybe it's a sign that I should more aggressively pursue my creative projects! But this won't be the last you see of me and my writing!

all my love <3

Petrana

hey hey my plucky tumblr gang --

i've been laid off! actually, almost all of polygon has! bc vox sold us!

This really sucks and I wish i had something more to say right now but i am still in shock. wanted to let y'all know though since i know there's plenty of polygon fans on here who might not be on twitter/bsky/wheveever the rest of the polygon staff is <3

[petermorwood]

Hi i have a question!

I just bought myself a decoration sword replica (anduril from lord of the rings) and I've been wondering: aren't swords supposed to be balanced at the point of the hilt?

Because mine isn't, and I'm wondering if it's because of the decoration sword aspect or if i was wrong in my assumption.

I don't know a lot about sword manoeuvrability, and definitely not enough to assess which point of balance might be useful for different uses, but I've been theorising that there lies a potential answer.

I am hopeful that you can help me clear the mystery, and thank you so much in advance!

No mystery IMO - it's almost certainly because of the word you yourself used twice.

What you've got isn't a sword as much as a decoration in the shape of a sword, a specific sword from a famous movie series at that, and to the average movie fan it's far more important for a replica prop to look like what it, is rather than actually work like it.

A really expensive replica "Ghostbusters" proton pack...

...may well have all the necessary blinkenlights and even a sound system for THAT power-up noise, but 99.999% of owners won't expect it to actually tear holes in the fabric of reality.

Of course there's always that .0001%, tinkering away at the back of garages or in basement workshops. If they ever get a proton pack to work properly, we'll all know. ;->

Replica swords, axes, maces etc. are an exception to this general rule. People want them to work, though TBH "work" usually just means "flourish in a dramatic way" (which can be problematic in itself, as you'll see).

Very few take it to the point (or edge) of "take my enemies apart", and those who do have left a trail of weapon bans in their wake. Thanks for nothing.

*****

On the subject of balance, just for curiosity I checked several of my own repro swords - specifically this lot, photographed some years back when they were out taking the air...

...and rather to my surprise, because the amount of metal in the hilts varies so much, the point of balance on Every Single One is more or less the same - a generous hand's-width, say 4-ish to 5-ish inches / 11-ish to 13-ish cm, down from where the lowest element of the guard stops.

This means, of course, that the balance point on the blade is further down on the side-sword (my avatar) and basket-hilt schiavona than it is on the plain cross-hilts, but that aside, one good handspan seems to be the default distance.

Where does your Andúril replica balance? You didn't mention.

*****

Balance point aside, being "battle-ready" (the usual tag for repros intended for clangy re-enactment) really isn't a consideration for movie replicas, since most if not all aren't meant for use beyond decor, posing, cosplay etc.

Swords like these got the nickname "wall-hanger" for a reason.

Decorative replicas are certainly not for fighting with, so whether or not they balance like a real sword is immaterial. I'm sure some do, I'm equally sure most don't.

TBH, posing and cosplay shouldn't include swinging the replicas about in violent combat simulation movements, because they're usually not made like real swords. The nature of their construction (a thing called a "rat-tail tang") means there's a potential fracture point concealed within the grip.

And THAT means the stresses of sword-fighting moves, even without hitting something, might snap blade from hilt. If not noticed in time, the next dramatic swing might send the blade flying off in a dangerous unintended direction.

About 10 years ago I wrote a long illustrated post about that risk. I've seen it happen and though no harm was done, it was a hair-raising (and for one person, almost hair-parting) experience.

*****

The main questions regarding an Andúril replica (or a Braveheart, a Longclaw, a Conan Atlantean etc., etc.) are these:

"Do I think it's an accurate recreation of the movie sword?"

"Do I think it's a handsome ornament in my home?"

"Do I think it's worth what I paid for it?"

"Does owning it make me happy?"

If the answer to those questions is "Yes", then that decorative replica has fulfilled the purpose for which it was made.

Hope This Helps! :->

[sbubmarine]

arro (1192024)

[thedarklyblue]

just hit 15 minutes of standing just outside the door of the counseling hub waiting for someone else to show up for the anxiety workshop. this isn't on the nose at all.

[thebibliosphere]

Speaking of therapy, I say, as though we're old friends, and you're not a stranger trapped in this metaphorical elevator with me and you can hear the suspension wires starting to fray.

I've been doing a lot of work recently that's focused on imposter syndrome and the feeling that no matter how well or how much I do, I'm not good enough. That I'm somehow tricking everyone into thinking my work is actually good.

Some days it's a minor niggle in my head that I can gentle and soothe with logic and affirmations. Or smother, depending on the mood. Other times it's loud and all-consuming and the mental anguish it causes me is so real I can feel it twitching in my muscles. This desperate fight-or-flight instinct with nowhere to go and nothing to fight but myself.

Anyway, because I'm several types of Mentally Unwell™, I was switching between workshop sheets ahead of next week. Filling in different forms. (Trying to get a good grade in therapy) And I got my "recognize your harmful ADHD coping mechanisms" worksheet mixed in with the "you're not actually lying to people, you just feel like you are because your brain is full of weasels" worksheet, and seeing them side by side made something go topsy turvy in my head, and I just had to sit and breathe for a couple of minutes until the urge to scream passed. Because it clicked, it all suddenly clicked.

The reason the imposter syndrome workshops and therapy sessions aren't sticking was because I do routinely trick people into thinking I'm someone I'm not.

Because I'm masking my ADHD for their convenience.

I've always known there was something wrong with me. My neurotypical peers made it abundantly clear I didn't fit in or was failing in some way I couldn't see nor remedy, no matter how hard I tried.

So I compressed myself into a workaholic box of hyper-competence in the hopes they'd stop noticing the flaws and exploit like me instead. And then subsequently lived with the daily fear that if they looked too close, they'd realize I'm a monumental fuck up with enough personal baggage to block the Suez Canal.

If you ever need someone to burn themselves to ashes for your comfort and convenience, I'm your gal.

Or I used to. Until I had a bit of a breakdown, and the rubber band holding my brain together snapped and pinged off into the stratosphere, never to be seen again.

Unfortunately, the trauma of living like that didn't also fuck off and instead left a gaping maw where my personality ought to be, so now I get to deal with that aftermath.

And it's that aftermath that's affecting the imposter syndrome shit. Because yes, I am hyper-competent and good at what I do-- but it doesn't feel real because that is how I mask.

And the truly frustrating thing is I am good at what I do. I am not pretending. I worked hard to be good at this. It just feels like I'm dicking around because 90% of my personality turns out to be trauma masquerading as humor in a trenchcoat, and having people genuinely like something weird I'm doing is so foreign my brain has decided it's just another form of masking.

I'm pretending to be a good author so people will think I'm a good author, and my brain thinks we are in Danger of being found out. We are in Danger, and writing is Dangerous because then people will know I'm Weird and not whatever palatable version I've presented myself as for their NT sensibilities.

Like the neurotic vampire with a raging praise kink wasn't an obvious giveaway.

Anyway. I got nothing else. Thanks for listening.

I'm going to go be very normal in another room and not stare into the abyss of my own soul for a bit.

[shiny-jr]

from SCARABIA

- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Gender-neutral reader. 

- Characters: Kalim Al-Asim, Jamil Viper.

- Summary: (Continuation, after this “we just got a letter, wonder where it’s from”) You have barred them from entering the safety of Ramshackle Dorm, but they are determined to make their words reach you. Which is why the letters begin arriving at your doorstep.

- Note: Hey! Hey... How y'all doing...? I know it's been nearly two years since I updated this.

Pomefiore   |   Scarabia   |   Octavinelle

Jasmine. The scent of freshly ground jasmine tea leaves permeated the air, an attempt to cast a relaxing affect. However, it only had the opposite affect, as you knew enough to determine where the letter might've originated from. A vertical envelope sealed, with no wax seal or string to hold it shut. A perfectly normal envelope but labeled urgent.

Each word seemed so carefully planned, the ink creating coils and lines like woven fabric as if printed. It nearly felt too unnatural, from the formalness that spiraled into quick and rushed writing. After this many letters, you've picked up by now that the neatest ones likely have something to hide, but they likely got tired of hiding it. Pretty penned words and apologies in ink were used to conceal what the writer truly felt.

To the player,

Do not leave Ramshackle dorm tonight.

Mondays you visit Mr. S's Mystery Shop for the essentials. Tuesdays you sneak into the botanical garden. Wednesdays you spend time with Professor Crewel as he stays late to grade exams in the Alchemy Workshop. Thursdays you hide in the Coliseum as Coach Vargas rearranges equipment. Fridays you slip into the back of the library where Professor Trein is reading. Weekends you're either with Headmaster Crowley in the Hall of Mirrors or guarded in Ramshackle.

They know you leave Ramshackle at midnight. I just want to warn you. No one is supposed to be around at midnight. It should have remained a short moment away from the confines of Ramshackle, but, the same people you've been avoiding have heard about your nightly escapades.

I know I'm one of those people you're avoiding. Know that I'm not upset at you. I don't fault you for it. You've known my true nature for a while now, but you could realize that even I'm not twisted enough to stalk you and get your schedule all on my own. All that above? Information I heard. I don't approve of tracking you, not when you deserve to have peace and quiet if you want it. But I don't mind influencing a classmate or two with magic to hear what's going on inside each dorm when they're threatening your brief moments of peace. There's the obvious happenings, and the not so obvious ones.

That being said, you do know that I am willing to do what it takes to protect your space and to advance my standing above the rest. That's something I don't bother to hide around you. So, I'll tell you the happenings. The obvious that others have probably yapped about already... Malleus and his cohorts have taken up the task of guarding Ramshackle, so they know about your trips. Ignihyde is mostly quiet, but Ortho has been talking to Kalim a lot about "fun" plans to involve you in. Pomefiore maintaining their refined image to impress you when I doubt that it's all real.

The Leech twins have been particularly prone to violence recently, and Azul lacks his usual confidence although he tries to hide it. In Savanaclaw there's been multiple brawls because of the tension but Leona seems to be sleeping in more than before. Heartslabyul is as chaotic as ever, but it seems like they feel the most responsible for what happened. I've seen those two first years, Ace and Deuce, try to visit Ramshackle all the time but never get past the gate.

That's not all, but that's all I'll say about that for now.

I'm not trying to bother you, I can promise you that. I managed to put a stop to about ten plans Kalim was ready to set in motion just this week to grab your attention.

You realize what this is by now. I know you do. A warning from me, an attempt to redeem myself. Although "redeem" doesn't seem like a suitable word, because I don't really believe true redemption is possible. Not with what I allowed to happen to you. But I only care about myself, and you. No one else. So I don't care if their plans fail. In fact, I'm glad to tell you this, just so they won't see you.

Don't let them see you. They don't deserve it. None of us do. My advice to you: avoid your usual destinations for about a week or two. After a while, they'll start looking elsewhere. Give me a few more days, I'll start planting false rumors soon to throw them off. Like how you were spotted in the woods behind campus or the sports field. That will get them off your back for a while. If you plan to go to the cafeteria eventually for a meal, take the long way through the back. Hardly anyone goes that way. If you want a home cooked meal, let me know. I'll send something your way if you just ask.

One last warning. You're going to get a letter around the same time you'll get this one you're currently reading. It's an invitation from Kalim. Don't go. He's planning a surprise party with the exact people you're avoiding.

Anything you tell Kalim will eventually be told to others, you should know that. Anything you say to me will be kept a secret I will closely guard. If you want more information or greater details, something to be delivered since I imagine you'll be in Ramshackle for a while, or just desire new company for once... I'm here. Even if you don't want me, I'm here. With just one response from you, I'll tell you whatever you want to know. Tell me whatever you wish, and I'll see to it just to be back in your grace.

Awaiting your response.

Best wishes,

Jamil Viper

A chill traveled up your spine as you processed the message you just read. The window was right beside you, so you reached up to pull the string of the blinds, blocking out the sights in fear of someone watching through those very windows.

"Grim, we're going to have to take a rain check on our trip to the cafeteria tonight." Once you dropped the letter, you went window to window, closing and locking each one, pulling down the blinds and readjusting the curtains.

"Aww..." The feline watched in confusion as you moved around to check the locked front and back doors. Normally he would've immediately whined and complained about the canceled trip to the place with food, but he sensed your reemerging paranoia. Following you, his tail swished behind him as he walked on all fours. "What's with you? Was it something in that letter?"

Pulling on the door handle, you were only satisfied when it didn't budge. "Yes."

When you handed him the letter to read, his little paws grasped onto it and he handed you a second open letter that was unfamiliar. Sniffing the jasmine scented letter, Grim pulled away and plopped down with it. "I was reading that other one while you were distracted. It sounds fun and it would be worth going if they weren't crazy obsessed, you know."

Fun?

When you took a closer look at the letter Grim handed you, it was evidence that Jamil had told the truth in this instance.

Even from where you stood, you could make out the shimmer of the torn envelope forgotten in the living room floor feet away from where you stood. Grim has throughly torn through it, the exterior was white with a corner accidentally stained by black ink. The interior of the envelope shined like gold. Was it real gold? Probably not, but at this rate, anything was possible.

The letter was clearly perfumed, and each word was written far more casually than in other letters you had already read. Each word was written in clear black ink, and there seemed to be a doodle marking the end of every paragraph. There was a heart, a smiley face, and a star, just to name a few. Just by a glance, it didn't carry the same heavy content like the others did. There was only one person you could think of who would have written this.

Hi, Player!

You are invited to a celebration in your honor!

That's right. Tomorrow, at the Scarabia dorm, I'll be hosting a party just for you! There's gonna be every type of food you can think of, the best songs to dance to, and invitations have already been sent out. It's gonna be the biggest party this place has ever seen! I even imported some gifts from off campus to give you later. I'm sure you're probably wondering why throw a party after everything that happened, huh?

Well, I had two reasons. One, I wanted to use it as an apology. I'm sorry. I really really mean it. I know I keep saying it with every gift and letter I've sent you. I don't even have a clue if you've read the ones I sent before. I hope you've seen them. Did you at least like the bracelet I sent last time? It's real gold from my homeland!

The second reason was because I just really want to see you. Even if you just come by for a minute, just one dance or have one plate of food, that would be enough. It would make me happy. And maybe it might make you happy too? Jamil said it isn't a good idea, but its worth a shot! And really, we're all miserable without you. I figured that it would be a way to cheer everyone up, not just you and me. Right now, I think everyone could use a bit of festivity to lift their spirits. Especially you, and honestly, me too. Ever since you shut yourself in Ramshackle, everyone's been worried sick.

I hope you're doing better now! Admittedly, I still feel guilty about what happened. Whenever I think too much about it, I get scared when I imagine what you went through and what could've happened. I wish I could turn back time to when you walked into Scarabia and pretended to be someone else. My heart recognized you before my brain did, and I was too happy with you to even realize that the joy I felt in that moment was so familiar. It was familiar because I was with you, and I'm only that happy when I'm hanging out with you! I think about that day a lot, you know. But you didn't tell me it was you for a reason.

You were scared, weren't you? That's why you kept looking around so much back then. At first, I thought it was because you were curious of the dorm, but I was wrong. You weren't scared of me, were you? I hope not. You know I would never ever hurt you, right? Even when you were known as the "imposter," I didn't want to cause you any pain at all. I just wanted to ask: why? Why was this happening? Why had they caused Yuu to break down? Why were they doing it and causing us so much pain?

Because without you, we were hurting. Badly.

I was hurting, and I don't ever remembering feeling a pain like this. It feels worse than any sort of bitter poison or heartbreaking betrayal. I'm so, so, sorry.

I don't want to dwell on the past too much. It hurts to think about. I hope you'll be willing to at least consider forgiving me? It seems like a lot to ask, and I have no idea what you're thinking. I really want to see you, and hanging out again, and forget all this ever happened. But I can't do that, because I have to consider you, your thoughts, your opinion on everything.

Sorry, sorry, I don't want this letter to sound depressing. It's supposed to be an invitation! Everything's gonna be okay, it has to be. Soon, maybe, I'll get to see you again and everything will be right. I won't feel this pain in my chest anymore, once I'm with you. Right now, let me take this chance to just try and explain how much you mean to me... Uh, I never thought I would actually get this opportunity. It doesn't feel real. I don't even know if the right words exist that capture my emotions. Let's see... When I wake up in the mornings, you're the first thing on my mind as the sun comes up. When I fall asleep at night, you're all that's in my dreams as the sun goes down.

People think I'm too hopeful, too naive, when it comes to you. But I'm not! One day, I know we'll be together again, and we'll be happy! I'll get to just live beside you, the real you! That's been my wish ever since I've met you through your vessel, Yuu.

We're already halfway there! You're here, in our world, I've met you, I've spoken to you, I've been so close I literally touched your hand! Yeah, we messed up along the way, but we'll make up for it! All that's left is to earn your forgiveness, and my wish will have come true once you allow me to be next to you again! I'm so so close, and yet you seem so far away. Just out of reach, but I'll get there, don't worry. I'll make up for everything. All you gotta do is guide me. Tell me what you want. Please.

I'll check up on you soon, okay?

See you tomorrow,

Kalim Al-Asim

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

a compass. l Joel Miller

Summary: your idea was good, but not everything went as it should

Warnings: angst, two infected, shooting, some blood, angry Joel, Ellie is in it, unprotected sex (don't do that), Ellie and Joel argue

A/N: .

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

“Have you found anything?”

“Not yet!”

You glanced at Ellie quickly, then looked around the room that used to be a sporting goods store. Most of the stuff had already been stolen, but she wouldn't give up.

When Tommy had secretly told her that Joel's birthday was coming up, she had wanted to give him a present. She had come to you that evening, asking you to take advantage of the fact that he was going on patrol. A visit to the mall should be quick and easy.

“We should hurry up.” You pointed it out to her. “It’s almost evening and I’d rather be out of here.”

“Give me a second.” Ellie groaned, struggling to open the last drawer. “I’m sure I’ll find something here.”

You smiled to yourself. Neither Ellie nor Joel had spoken of emotions, but you knew how close they were to each other. Joel did everything to ensure her safety, and she, although she pretended not to care, took his opinion into account. You started to wonder what you could give Joel as a gift when a strange noise caught your attention.

"Ellie?" you mumbled, gripping the gun tighter, "We should go."

"Just a moment." Ellie was shuffling through more boxes, "I'm sure it'll be here..."

You quietly took the next steps, trying to hear as much as possible. You were already close to Ellie when the girl raised her hand, gripping something tightly.

"I've got it! I've got it!" she shouted.

At that moment, several things happened. Somewhere behind you, you heard the sound of a cabinet falling, and then a sharp squeak. You grabbed Ellie's arm.

"Gun, gun!" you said quickly when you noticed movement, and then two clickers rushed straight at you.

You fired without thinking, hitting one in the shoulder, and then hitting him in the head. "Ellie! Hide!"

The girl jumped behind the counter. Although she aimed for the other infected, she missed. The monster hit you and you both fell onto the glass case behind you. You fell, feeling something painfully cut your skin. But you didn't have time to think about it. The infected rolled off of you, but he was already getting up. You grabbed the gun in both hands and shot him several times until he finally fell to the floor, lifeless.

"Shit! Shit!" Ellie climbed out from behind the counter with a terrified look on her face. "I didn't hear them! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I think so..." you replied, getting up carefully.

"Shit, you're bleeding."

Ellie approached and carefully took your hand in hers. Several pieces of glass pierced your hand, which was bleeding. It didn't look good, but it was a small price to pay for both of you still being alive.

"I should get this bandaged up." Ellie said, but you just shook your head.

"We have to go back. There might be more here." You said, pulling out a few of the larger pieces. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Yeah." She held out her hand and showed you the compass. It was really nice, in a neat little box that could fit in the jeans pocket. "Do you think Joel would like it?"

"I'm sure."

"You have to help me bandage this and I'll say I broke a glass while washing dishes." You said as soon as you entered the house and quickly took off your jackets.

"I'll get the first aid kit." Ellie declared, but she didn't even make it to the kitchen when she stopped dead in her tracks.

You took off your shoes with difficulty, because your hand hurt a little, but when you straightened up, you understood what had stopped the girl. Joel came out of his workshop and was watching you with a frown.

"Hi. I didn't know you were back already." You greeted, trying to smile and hide your hand behind your back at the same time.

"We did it quickly today." Joel replied. You could hear the tension in his voice. "You didn't say you were going out with Ellie."

"I..." you started, but she interrupted you.

"I wanted to check something out. You know, in that mall nearby and..."

One look from Joel was enough for Ellie to fall silent. "Have you been outside Jackson?"

"Yes." There was no point in lying. "But we're back now. How was your day?"

You tried to downplay the whole situation, but Joel wasn't fooled.

"Show me your hand."

"Joel, please."

"Show me."

You held out your hand without a word, showing the already dried blood and lots of small wounds. Joel took a deep breath.

"It was my idea." You said quickly. "I wanted to..."

"No! It was me!" Ellie suddenly blurted out. "I talked her into going to that mall with me. I wanted to find you a present for your birthday. Look what..."

"You risked her life over some stupid present?!" Joel roared so unexpectedly that you both stepped back. "Ellie, for God's sake!"

"I didn't know there would be infected there!" the girl squealed. That only made things worse. Joel's eyes darkened with anger, but also with helplessness.

"Were they infected?" he asked, and you nodded.

"Two. I eliminated them, but I ran into a glass case. Nothing else happened and..."

There was silence for a moment. You felt your heart pounding in your chest, but Joel must have felt even worse. Up until now, he thought you were somewhere in Jackson, but with every passing moment, your story seemed more and more terrifying to him.

"Joel..." you began quietly, trying to approach him, "I just wanted to..."

"Don't defend her. You keep doing this, and she has to finally understand." he said in a cold voice, "You risked your life for her. You could have... Fuck! You could have died because she wanted to find something. Some stupid shit!"

The girl's eyes shone with tears, but her face was expressionless. She stared at Joel as if she was ready for more accusations.

"That was irresponsible, Ellie!" he hissed. "I'm trying to protect you, and you do something like that?"

"I didn't go there alone." she replied quietly.

"Because you knew she would go with you! Because you knew she would do anything to protect you! How could you risk her life because of your own stupid whim and..."

"Stop it!"

Joel looked at you, surprised. Tears were also shining in your eyes, and your lips were quivering nervously. You looked at Ellie with horror, she was on the verge of breaking down. With each subsequent word that fell from Joel's lips, she began to fear more and more. This was not how it was supposed to end. She just wanted to find him a gift, something that would remind him of her, something that would be only his and show how much she cared about him.

"Ellie, it's not like that..." you started, but the girl didn't answer. Before you could put your hand on her shoulder, she turned around and ran out of the house, slamming the door. You both stared at the spot where she had just disappeared.

He did what he did best. He hid. The workshop was his escape from the world, a safe haven. Especially now when emotions were boiling inside him.

Joel felt angry and helpless. He didn't want Ellie to run away from home like that, but at the same time he knew he couldn't ignore what had happened. Your life and Ellie's were in danger, he was in Jackson and he would only find out if you didn't come home. He could have reacted differently, he could have let her say what she thought. But when two people so close to him did something so irresponsible...

A quiet knock on the door brought him back to earth.

"Can I come in?" your quiet voice reached his ears and Joel felt as if something soothing had washed over him.

"Always," he replied quietly.

You slipped into the room, bringing with you the scent of soap and shampoo. You were already wearing shorts and an oversized t-shirt that you wore to bed. Joel closed his eyes as your fingers slid into his curly hair just above his neck.

"Don't hide from me, Joel." you said quietly, your voice warm and soothing.

"I'm not hiding," he replied. He sighed softly as you kissed the top of his head. "I'm sorry for what I said. I shouldn't have."

"The only thing you shouldn't have done was yell at her. She meant well."

"But she did..."

"Stupid, I know." you interrupted him, leaning against the desk and looking at him softly. "And I should have asked Tommy or Shane to come with us. I am an adult. I failed. It's my fault too."

A colossal hand stroked your thigh slowly. You could see that Joel still didn't have the courage to look you in the eye. What had happened was eating him up inside. 

"Ellie is already fifteen. It's a difficult time for her. It was for all of us. She needs to know that she has our support, that she can count on us, that we love her."

"I try to understand her, I really do. Sometimes I have the impression that she does everything differently just to piss me off. You're the only one who can get along with her."

You put your hand on his cheek and turned his face towards you. Your heart broke every time you saw him trying to deal with all of this. Joel was stubborn and sometimes difficult to deal with, but he loved you both and would do anything for you.

"Ellie won't learn anything from our mistakes, she has to make her own. We just...accompany her as she grows up. We have to show and teach her what we can, and then let her live."

Joel sighed and finally looked at you. His eyes were gentle and sad. "I'm afraid that I'll lose you both. That I'll lose you."

With a quiet sigh, you straddled his lap. The sweet weight he adored so much. His hands rested on your hips, pulling you as close to his body as possible. 

"Ellie found out it was your birthday. She wanted to give you something personal. She asked me to go with her. Those infected surprised us, but I managed to deal with him." Joel opened his mouth to say something, but you didn't let him. "The situation was dangerous, yes. Next time, we'll ask someone to come with us. I'm sorry, Joel."

He nodded silently, and you took his face in your hands and kissed his lips tenderly. "I love you so much. And Ellie loves you too. I know it's hard." You added quietly. "Don't be mad at us."

"I'm not mad, I just... I feel so helpless sometimes."

"I know."

You let him snuggle into your arms. His safe place, a place where he didn't have to pretend he was strong, where he could truly be himself. Holding you in his arms was something that delighted him every time.

Your quiet voice broke the sweet silence. "Happy birthday, Joel."

He snorted. "Are we celebrating that I'm another year older?"

"We're celebrating that we can be together that day."

He could celebrate that. With you. He kissed you with affection, taking in this pleasure as much as he could. And when you rolled your hips, rubbing against his crotch, he understood immediately.

"Do you want to go upstairs?" you asked as he kissed your neck, his hands wandering under your shirt.

"Here is good, baby." he whispered.

He didn't need much. Finally, all he had to do was slide off his sweatpants and push your shorts aside. After a moment, he sank into you, sighing quietly. Since your conversation about the baby, every sex has been something extraordinary and full of tenderness. Joel didn't know he would ever feel like this again. He wasn't sure if he ever had.

"So good..." you moaned in his ear as his hands gave rhythm to your movements.

You were his, really. In the middle of the end of the world, you found him and let him be with you. Maybe it was one of the two good things that happened since the first day this all started. Joel wanted to draw from this, he wanted to live and have another chance.

Your quiet sighs filled his ears, he felt that you were close and soon your walls would squeeze him tighter. The movements became stronger, his hands held you more and more hungrily. You tilted your head for a moment to catch your breath, and Joel's lips found your neck, kissing you.

"That's right, baby, that's right..." he panted "Give it to me. I want to feel you all over..."

You came with a quiet moan, feeling his hands press you tightly to his chest. Joel was right behind you, filling you to the brim. You were both breathing heavily, still stuck in the embrace.

"Stay." he said when you twitched as if you wanted to get up "Give it a moment longer. Let it take it."

You chuckled quietly. "Do you want to conceive a child in your workshop?"

"Any place is good." He kissed your temple tenderly and, holding you in his arms, let the moment last a second longer.

It was late when the front door slammed quietly and Joel recognized familiar footsteps.

"Ellie?" he left the kitchen and came across a girl who already had one foot on the step "Can we talk?"

She didn't seem thrilled. She pushed her hands deeper into her jacket pockets, but didn't go upstairs, she stayed with him. He had his chance.

"I wanted to apologize to you." Joel began uncertainly "For what I said and how I said it. I should have listened to you first. Both of you."

"Have you talked to her?" she asked without even looking at him, he nodded. "You should listen to her more often. She's smart."

"I know. Much smarter than me." he replied. A shadow of a smile crossed Ellie's lips. "Listen... I know I'm a pain in the ass and overprotective, but I care about both of you a lot. I'm going crazy at the thought of something happening to you and me not being able to help you."

Ellie looked at him, her face devoid of emotion, though her eyes were shining. "You can't protect me forever, Joel. You know that."

He nodded again. "But that doesn't mean I can't try. I'm sorry, Ellie. I shouldn't have said all that. She told me why you went there and... and... I feel so fucking stupid."

"Good. I wanted to get you a present and you yelled at me. You know perfectly well I wouldn't have risked her life if I had known what was waiting for us. She's important to me too."

"I know, Ellie."

They stared at each other in silence for a moment. Finally, the girl's hand pulled something out of her jacket pocket. Ellie hesitated, but finally took a step toward Joel and held out her hand. Inside was a small metal box with an ornate lid.

Joel took it and slowly opened it.

"This is a compass. May you always find your way home."

When he looked at her with his brown eyes, in which tears shone, Ellie felt that she, too, was about to cry. Without a word, she walked over and wrapped her arms around his waist, snuggling into him.

"Happy birthday, old man."

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again @callmebyyournick-name @hiroikegawa @mandaloriankait

[cosmicporos]

What Arcane characters would gift you for Christmas!

Jinx, Vi, Ekko, Viktor, Jayce

(Semi crack Drabble… sorry for going super long with Viktor’s and Jayce’s HCs. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH)

(Jayce is Hispanic in my hc :3)

ENJOY AND HAVE FUN LOVE YALL<3

Not proofread

JINX

Hear me out… the first thing she would plan to gift you are decorated safety googles.

As a matter of fact everything she gifts you is handmade!

She knows you love to spend time with her when she’s in her workshop and the extra spare of googles she had were pretty crappy…

“Ugh, these old things? Pfft, they look like they’ve been through a freakin’ explosion… oh wait, they probably have! We gotta get you a new pair soon toots!”

They’d be totally decked out! Lots of character as she calls it.

“Okay toots check it out! Maximum protection but most importantly! They got style!”

The googles themselves would be in her classic style, very colorful paint, cute little heart scribbles all around! And of course lots of glitter….

“"I mean, you've got to stay safe while causing mayhem, right? And hey, if we're blowing stuff up together, you'll definitely need these. Plus, I made them perfectly for you. No one else will have goggles like these... trust me!"

I totally see her adding little handmade jewelry from her gears and spare parts, would totally make you a belt or choker out of spare bullets.

Vi

She would totally panic on what to get you for Christmas. Like what if you suddenly hate the thing you’ve loved since the very beginning she’s known you???

Would end up both buying and making you something!

She’s make you something small but meaningful

“Okay Okay fine! You can open mine now. Just don’t laugh too hard Cupcake…”

You’d open the poorly wrapped gift to uncover a bright pink scarf she knitted you! The stitching is a mess.. there a hole’s through the project (no doubt a missed stitch) but in all honesty it so cute you feel like your heart might explode.

"Yeah, I know I'm not, uh, the best at this kind of thing," she mutters, scratching the back of her neck, "but I figured you could use something to keep warm... and, you know, 'cause it's winter. And... you're important to me."

Guys please tell her she did an amazing job PLEASE.

She would also totally buy you a pair of combat boots! Totally saved up for months in advance.

She loves the idea of being able to match and have a bit of her style on you!

Ekko

Just like Jinx (sobs) he’d also make something for you!

The first thing he’d give you would be a little sketch book full of drawings of you from random moments throughout your relationship he remembers oh so clearly.

"I've been working on it for a while... It's... it's just a bunch of drawings. I mean, not just anything. Stuff that made me think of you. Stuff we've done, or things I hope we do. I don't know, it just felt like the best way to show how I feel about... well, us."

Okay he would also totally make you matching jewelry (matching clock hand necklaces?)

You’d force him to take the hour hand since it’s shorter (heheheh little man)

Once you explain your reasoning as to why he should take the smaller one he sighs disappointedly…

"Okay, okay, I get it," he finally says, a little less playful now, his voice softening. "I guess if you want me to wear it, I can..."

Then, a grin creeps back onto his face as he adds, "But don't think I'm letting you off the hook with the minute hand. You're wearing that one for sure." He places the hour hand necklace around his neck, the smaller pendant resting there, and looks up at you with that mischievous gleam in his eye.

He pauses, holding up his necklace, "I'm still the one with the bigger job. You'll just have to keep up." A proud smug smirk now rests on his face.

Viktor

FUCK WHERE DO I BEGIN I LOVE THIS MAN

o k a y. He would just like Vi panic… not because he doesn’t know what to get you but because he totally is going Christmas shopping late… very very late.

As much as I would love to say he’d make some little invention to make your day easier and give it to you for Christmas I don’t see it happening.

Not because he wouldn’t do it but because he already does it all the time! A little example, you’re late for work often? A little robot that hits you with a plastic squishy hammer every morning at 7 am waking you up when he can’t!

He’d definitely want to make Christmas special, I see him buying you something and then doing something special for you too!

Christmas morning would be greeted with warm hugs and kisses along with an even warmer bowl of potato soup!

He wanted to make sure he perfected his mother’s Bramboračka recipe. It was a once a year meal him and his mother shared every Christmas day.

He’s not a good cook by any means… but this is the one dish he can make and oh boy can he make it.

"Don't expect perfection," he says with a small, self-conscious smile, as you catch him sneaking a taste of the soup. Viktor looks up, his gaze softening. "I hope you like it," he says, and despite his usual perfectionism, there's a quiet pride in his voice. You take a sip, and the rich flavors of mushrooms, potatoes, and herbs immediately comfort you, just like his mother's love must've comforted him all those years ago.

OKAY for the making gift he planned I see him commissioning something due to the fact a lot of his inventions lack aesthetics.

Specifically I see him commissioning a music box that functions as a a jewelry box as well! He would have loved to make it himself but he was worried he wouldn’t have gotten the look right.

"Do you like it?" he asks, his voice softer than usual, as if he's worried about the reception. "I had it made... I thought... it might remind you of us."

The detail was breathtaking-floral patterns etched into the surface, with tiny gears and delicate metalwork accenting the edges. The craftsmanship was stunning, and you couldn't help but run your fingers over the smooth finish.

you lifted the lid, and a gentle, lilting melody began to play. It was slow and sweet, a tune that felt timeless, and as you stared at the tiny figurines inside, your breath caught.

His fingers fidgeted with the edge of his cane, his gaze flicking between you and the music box. "I commissioned it," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "I had the craftsman use a sketch I made. It's how I see us... in my mind. How I feel when I hold you." He paused, his expression softening. "I thought... I thought you deserved something that would remind you of that. Of... how much you mean to me."

Jayce

Oh hon… Jayce would spoil you rotten.

I’m talking presents are overflowing underneath the tree.

You thought you lost your favorite piece of clothing? WRONG! He commissioned for more to be made in different colors and textures for you.

All the fragrances in the world he knew you would enjoy.

Cozy adorable pajamas we would give you Christmas morning so you could cuddle up drinking hot chocolate.

Spends Christmas Eve spoiling you and cuddling and being so tooth rottenly sweet.

It’s Christmas Eve, the scene was almost overwhelming. The living room looked like a perfectly curated holiday catalog-twinkling lights, a roaring fireplace, and, of course, an absurd number of gifts. Jayce sat cross-legged beside the tree, an excited grin lighting up his face as he handed you the first box. He had merely grinned, sheepish yet unrepentant. "What can I say? I got carried away?.”

"Open this one first," he urged, nearly vibrating with excitement. Inside was a bottle of an exquisite fragrance, the glass etched with delicate, swirling designs. It smelled divine-rich, warm, and entirely you.

"I figured you'd like that," he said eyes carefully watching everyone expression you make. You swear if he had a tail it would be swishing uncontrollably right now.

Christmas Day would be you spending Christmas day at his mother’s house!

(Listen I’m hc them as hispanic because for one HIS MOMS NAME HIS XIMENA… and two because why not :3 )

You have a great relationship with his Mother, she absolutely adores you and sees you as her daughter.

There’s lots of yummy food she’s prepared… perhaps too much for just 3 people?

Nonetheless, a pot of pozole, tamales de puerco and de dulce! And of course she made jayce’s favorite choco flan!

God she urges to to eat until you nearly pop! You have to undo your belt by the end of the night…

"Come, sit!" his mom insisted, pulling out a chair for you. "Jayce told me you've never had my tamales. That's a crime! Here, start with this." She placed one on your plate, her eyes twinkling.

Jayce sat beside you, his grin widening as you took your first bite. "Good, right?" he asked, nudging you playfully.

You could only nod, savoring the perfectly seasoned masa and tender filling.

Later in the evening, when everyone was too full to move, Jayce leaned over and slipped his hand into yours. His eyes were soft, his voice low as he said, "I'm glad you're here. This—" he gestured to the lively scene around you, "—feels perfect with you."

[dovveri]

strike a pose

synopsis: momo’s the best photographer in korea and she’ll be taking your pictures for the annual haute couture magazine

warnings: swearing, 69, mutual masturbation, filming during sex, taking pictures during sex, reader has a praise kink

w/c: 4.6k

a/n: can be read as a standalone but also follows directly from sana’s part

⌞ ⌝

"momo!"

a pretty girl with bright blonde hair pokes her head out from around the corner, eyes brightening when she sees her assistant with you in tow.

"come in! i've been expecting you! y/n right? sana told me all about you!"

"s-she did?" you gulp nervously, unsure of what exactly sana told the world-class photographer.

momo grins, "enough anyway. c'mon- let's get you changed. we've got quite a few shots i want to try out today. sana really outdid herself with the outfits this time. i can't help but think she was a little more inspired than usual." there's a teasing lilt to her voice, like she knows something you don't.

you can only allow yourself to be ushered along as hands start pulling at your clothes, makeup brushes touch up your face, and hair rollers are placed into your curls.

after your appointment with sana, she had managed to get your contact number, either through your agency or whatever else. it was mainly just for business though, she’d ask for your opinions on certain colours or ideas she had, treating you as if she didn’t fuck you senseless in her workshop upon your first meeting. you just took her lead and pretended it never happened, though every time her name lit up your phone screen you’d feel a little tingle down your spine at the memory.

"alright! let's get going team we have a lot of shots to take today!" you hear momo's stern yet excitable voice over the pop music in the studio. momo's reputation was just as prestigious as sana's, though she was admittedly a lot less intimidating. people said it was because of her general airy obliviousness that made models feel at ease and comfortable when posing for her that made her a pleasure to work with. of course, that never diminished from her actual job at hand, she was the best photographer in korea, always booked out and only shooting for the best magazines and companies across the country. she could be a little awkward but her work spoke volumes, she was simply better at communicating with her tool than with her words.

you're rushed over in your first outfit of the day, an extravagant, floral piece with a set full of colour and vibrancy. once all the stylists are done touching you up and hurriedly move out of the camera frame, momo wanders up last, smiling and adjusting your body to her desired position.

her touch is soft, barely there, it leaves goosebumps on your skin, or maybe it was the fact that the a/c was on high.

"alright?" she checks in on you, eyes twinkling.

you gulp from her proximity, the only thing separating your bodies the camera hanging around her neck. you nod sheepishly, unsure of yourself.

she smiles, "just let me know if you want to take a break or anything yeah? remember you're the most important person in the room here, if we don't have a model, we don't have pictures, so don't be afraid to make any demands at all."

you nod again, not trusting your own voice to speak, but you appreciated momo being so accommodating of you.

with that, she steps back, holds the camera up to her face, and starts taking photos.

⌞ ⌝

momo isn't the type of photographer to yell out compliments or directions while she's working. she stays quiet most of the time, only asks you to keep natural and do whatever feels comfortable. it's not awkward though, you could tell how focused she got when she was working, how much effort she put into her job, what a perfectionist she was.

soon enough, you've run through all but one of the outfits and backdrops, the swimsuit segment.

your hair is being curled into wavy, ocean-swept locks when the stylists pull out the skimpiest bikini you've ever seen. after they're done clipping together the pieces, some of them even have the shame to look away despite having seen you in all your naked glory multiple times during the shoot. you thought it was a piece that was perfectly reflective of its maker. covering almost nothing yet leaving everything to be desired, teasing in the most erotic way imaginable.

the studio has already been cold enough with the air-conditioning on full blast, but now with the new beach backdrop and a mist fan blowing directly on your body and face to give your hair the appearance of being freshly blown through with a sea breeze, you're near shivering.

it doesn't help the chills going down your spine every time momo glances over at you. and momo makes it known when she likes something and when she doesn't. and the way she was stalking towards you like you were her prey, her eyes dragging over your body again and again, licking her lips, until she's almost nose to nose with you, it was pretty safe to assume she liked what she saw.

"alright?" her voice is husky, like she's controlling herself from doing something not so work-friendly.

you can only nod, breath hitching.

"hmm... are you sure? you don't look alright."

"h-how do i look?"

she gives you a devilish glare, "i don't think you want me to answer that y/n."

"why n-not?"

she leans in even more, you almost close your eyes out of habit before you realise she's breathing next to your ear, voice low, only meant for you, "is that how we're playing this? you're gonna act stupid? or... do you have a praise kink y/n? want me to tell you what a pretty girl you are? to tell you about how i think you look absolutely succulent and how badly i want a taste? how i want you riding my face with your perfect tits swinging back and forth while you leak into my mouth, my camera set up recording every movement, every sound, every scream you'll be making because of my tongue? is that what you want to hear?"

your ears were always sensitive, even momo breathing near them has you squirming and the inside of your bikini bottoms soaked. you whimper as she whispers filth into them, feeling light-headed and desperately needing to hold onto her or you'd be at danger of falling over and exposing just what she made you feel to all of her staff.

she smirks, turning on her heel quickly and barking , "out! everyone out! good job today but I'll be finishing up these final shots myself. thank you all for your hard work."

her staff exchange glances a little uncertainly, never having been told to leave early by momo before, so they were unsure if that was what momo really meant.

momo tuts impatiently, "did you not hear me? pack up! let's go!"

her staff are prompted into movement, hastily running around and collecting their personal items before bowing out of the studio. momo glares down anyone that looks to be dawdling for too long, tapping her foot and ensuring her studio was empty before turning back to you.

you gulp, grateful the makeup on your face was covering the bright red blush on your cheeks. you both knew what was going to happen. it was a little absurd this was happening to you a second time when both times it's been 2 of the most influential people in the fashion industry. you're still in disbelief that they wanted you.

momo eyes you again with a smirk, fully appreciating you without the burden of her staff bustling around and calling for her attention in the background.

"alright gorgeous. let's do some standing poses first. whatever makes you feel the most confident."

you nod, taking in her direction and pushing one hip out, raising both arms to mess around with your hair, face morphing into a practiced smile, going for the sexy, energetic woman on the beach.

momo starts snapping away, humming and checking the photos every now and then, there were a few she took from certain angles that were a little... questionable, but you weren't one to question, so you let her do whatever her creative freedom asked her to.

"now can you lean forward? hands on your knees please."

you blush, this was a classic swimsuit stance, it would be fine, there was nothing to be shy about.

you do as she asks, switching your happy-go-lucky smile to one that’s a little more seductive.

momo takes a second to raise the camera to her eye, staring at your chest like she had lagged out. but once she does, she’s back to work, making sure she gets all the best shots.

“now lie down. on your side.”

you gulp, following her instructions. momo moves the fan to be at your face level, so it’s still blowing through your hair. she lingers a little, adjusting your face, hand on your chin. her eyes are stormy, the hint of a smirk permanently etched onto her lips. her hands drift from your chin, down to your shoulder, gliding fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake. your breath hitches audibly when she slips down to your side. she hums approvingly, her smirk growing as she traces your side, your stomach.

then she slides backwards, leans back on her knees and brings the camera back up to her eyes. you’re caught as her shirt lifts, her very visible abs peeking through.

momo clears her throat, “camera’s up here darling.”

you lick your lips, not even needing to fake your next look, reeking of pure sex. all you can think about is momo’s abs, her thighs, the way her knees are spread, her biceps, her well-endowed chest, all that muscle she was packing underneath a teasing smile.

she takes the picture.

then she’s the one leaning forward, going on all fours, crawling towards you slowly.

you hold your breath as she reaches you, nudging your hip lightly so you’re lying horizontally. and then she’s hitching a leg over your side and sitting on top of you.

your hands instinctively go to her hips but she catches them, pushing them above your head, her chest smothering your face in the process.

she leans back too soon, bringing the camera to her face, adjusting herself to sit better on your hips. “there we go. you’re a pretty girl.”

you blush brightly at her comment, looking away shyly. she starts snapping immediately, grinning. you compose yourself and look back towards the camera, biting your lip, drooping your eyes, satisfied when you hear the stutter in momo's work before she starts clicking again.

once she's happy with those shots, she moves off your body, but keeps a hand on your stomach to keep you there, pushing down slightly letting you know who was directing you, who owned you. then she's propping up a beach ball, or an umbrella, you couldn't really tell you were too focused on the way her abs tensed as she lifted and shuffled things around.

she leans you back, then slides her hands down from your stomach to your thighs, pushing gently.

your eyes widen, unable to resist as she spreads your legs, licking her lips as she stares.

“m-momo.”

“hmm?”

“um- the- the photos?”

she clicks her tongue, “impatient are we? just let me enjoy the view for a little.” her eyes track back up your body, smirking at the hooded look you give her, breaths coming in and out visibly harder, your arousal too obvious to ignore.

after what feels like forever sitting in your own slick, she finally moves backwards, bringing that goddamn camera back to her face, her smirk only growing wider with each passing second, before she starts to click.

she takes a few shots, then feigns disapproval, frowning down at her camera in the most exaggerated pout you have ever seen, so you know it’s just for show.

“y/nnnnn~” it’s cute, too cute. “i don’t like these. will you… spice it up a little?”

you take a breath before responding, steadying yourself, “spice it up?”

“yeah. y’know…”

“…i-i don’t.”

momo’s expression changes immediately, scowling, her cutesy show over in a flash, “don’t be a brat y/n. you know what i’m talking about. you think i can’t see you dripping for me? you think i can’t see the way you’re squirming, how you’re imagining the way i’d feel under you, inside you? don’t make me spell it out for you. be a good girl and do what you want to do.”

she's completely right of course. her words only encourage the thoughts you've been keeping locked away since the moment you saw her. you didn't think it was professional for this to happen a second time, hell the first time you didn't think it was professional.

but you gulp, hesitantly bring your hands down to your stomach, tracing the skin there lightly. you feel your nails dig in just lightly and you gasp, hyperaware of your body and all its sensations. the cool air of the room, that fucking fan that's been blowing wet mist at you for the past 20 minutes, momo. god momo. she was so fucking hot. in that sleazy, greasy, nice-guy way straight girls found film bros hot. except momo had the face and body to match the arrogance she hid under practiced professionalism and niceties.

you whimper as a hand trails up and captures a breast.

momo grins, bringing her camera back up to her eye, more vocal now than she has been the entire photoshoot.

"there we go. now we're getting somewhere."

you feel your breaths go heavier, no longer able to hide yourself as you ache to rub your thighs together.

she notices of course. she notices everything about your body.

"don't you fucking dare. tease yourself. make it worth it. make yourself earn it."

you try and take a breath to steady yourself again, though you don't know why, each breath hasn't been helping at all, only making the matter worse as you become more and more aware of your arousal.

with difficulty, you bring your other hand to your chest, now groping both your tits, moaning fully, completely on display for her while she snaps away.

"there we go- that's good- more like that- mhmm-"

momo mumbles praises and compliments that make your head dizzy and your pussy clench. your fingers find two hard nubs that have been begging for attention since you had gotten in this glorified piece of cloth. you pinch simultaneously and let out a pathetic sound of lust.

momo gets it all on camera. zooms in even.

knowing you had an audience, that this was being recorded, it gave you a sick sort of thrill that made each squeeze of your hands feel that much better, each click of momo's finger, like she was rubbing your clit with each photo.

one hand slips under the bikini top, doesn't reveal it to the camera, but it's obvious where it is, pulling and twisting as you writhe, legs shaking, sweat collecting, desire building.

momo comes closer, sits right between your legs, keeps them open, captures your face mid-moan, anyone could hear the pornographic sounds you were making without needing film, the pictures momo took were enough. she was that good.

the heat of another person near you makes you grow desperate. "m-momo- p-please- i- i- i need-"

"hmm? what do you need darling? tell me. remember i said you're the most important person in the room. without you, we don't have pictures, without you, i don't have a job. so, what do you need?"

"y-you! please-"

"me? what do you want me to do to for you?" she cocks her head, acts confused, you know better.

"w-what you said e-earlier! p-please i'm please- i'm begging-"

"oh you're begging? why are you doing that? i'll give you anything you want darling. there's no need to beg. do you think i'm that mean?" she pouts, has the audacity to look completely innocent even while she has you under her, dripping onto the floors of her studio, hands groping at your chest, back arching trying to get closer to her.

"m-momo!"

"what?!"

you almost cry, sliding your right hand down your stomach, straight into your bikini bottoms, the waterproof material did it's job too well. you couldn't tell from the outside, but the inside, it was drenched. you moan as your fingers meet your folds.

momo doesn't even glance down, keeps staring at you in mock ignorance.

you slide a finger up and down your slit, gritting your teeth as you rub your clit harshly. too harsh, you would come too soon. you ease up, sliding back down to your entrance, hips bucking up, other hand still twisting at a nipple.

snap!

you roll your head back as your hips rock against your hand, letting her slide down and position herself right in front of your cunt, lens pointed directly at it. you can't look at her, too embarrassed as you push your fingers in and out of yourself, just centimeters away from her face, from her instrument.

you've been groping at your chest enough that the material has ridden up, half of your chest exposed to the studio, to the flashing lights at each click of momo's fingers, and fuck you needed more space. so you hastily pull at the strings tying the bottoms together, just one side while your other hand keeps pumping in and out of you. it falls away easily and you feel yourself clench around your own fingers at the gasp momo lets out, snaps growing quicker in succession.

the hand that untied your bottoms goes right back to your neglected tit, rubbing and squeezing while you hump your hand.

you risk a glance down, and you almost cum at the sight.

momo's got one hand on her camera, the other down her pants.

it's a little pathetic, the way she's grinding down on herself, trying to alleviate the tension that's built up in her lower stomach, such a pretty girl reduced to a horny loser at the sight of pussy, but it gets you so hot knowing she was affected by you.

your eyes focus in on the hand trapped between the floor and her cunt, the rapid movements giving you an idea of what was going on inside her pants. you start to match her pace, bringing the hand that was palming at your breast to rub at your clit, pushing it around in little circles as you gasp and moan and clench for her.

momo curses under her breath, cheeks flushed as she stays on her stomach, a shaky hand still clicking away, changing settings, zooming in and out, capturing every moment of your build-up.

it was too much, her focus, the way you're pulsing, the flashes of the camera. you cum.

your vision whites out, throwing your head back, unable to hear the little curses momo lets out as she pulls her other hand out of her pants, frantically grabbing for her camera to be able to capture your full glory in your orgasm, her fingers still covered in her own slick, zipper undone as she scrambles to her feet.

you keep pushing in and out of yourself, slowing down the circling on your clit until a full stop, breathing heavily as your vision returns.

you blink, looking around hazily, pulling your fingers out of yourself with a wet squelch.

you find her eventually, stumbling around with her pants fallen to her knees while she fiddles with different cameras and light settings.

your post-orgasm haze finds her adorable. so different to the woman who said she'd have you screaming on top of her tongue. she was unpredictable, your initial canvas of her was wrong. she was simply... momo. she was unique, the only person who could possibly understand her was herself, and you doubted she understood herself. but that didn't matter, because she's good at what she does and she gets what she wants.

she notices you watching her after a little, blushing and kicking off her pants fully.

"sorry y/n just gimme a second."

you smile, shaking your head, "it's alright."

you watch fondly as she finishes up, but with her legs now exposed you can't help but feel the twinge of arousal in your core as your eyes follow the muscles of her thighs, her calves, her ass when she turns and bends. she acts so oblivious but she must know what she's doing.

you sigh, leaning back and running your hands up your stomach again, appreciating the view. you finally take off the bikini top, freeing your chest and groping freely at them as momo stands back up.

she checks the camera once more, then takes off her top. her bra follows quickly after, and she turns.

her eyes narrow as she stalks towards you, chest swinging proudly as you whimper, pinching your nipples and wishing you could just bite down on hers.

"i see you started without me."

"mhmm~"

"i told you to give me a second didn't i?" she stands above you, arms crossed over her chest, pushing her breasts together sinfully. you notice the wet spot on her underwear, trying to hide a giggle but failing.

she raises an eyebrow, pulling her panties off. that gets you to stop, your mouth watering at her cleanly shaven, dripping cunt.

"something funny?"

"n-no."

"c'mon. i like funny things. tell me."

"nothing's funny."

she kneels down in front of you, on all fours, your eyes go straight to her chest.

"impatient and a fucking liar."

you whimper.

she juts a finger behind her, her eyes never leaving yours, "i'm giving you what you wanted now. what i said. that camera's filming us, so are three others around the room, just so we get every angle. now you're gonna sit on my face and look pretty. understand?"

your eyes widen, wet already from your first orgasm, fresh arousal starting to build up. you nod.

"good girl."

you squirm at the term, watching as she lies down, then pulls on your thighs to get you to kneel on top of her. you're a little embarrassed as you lower yourself, but momo doesn't give a shit. she yanks you down and starts eating like it's her last meal.

your hand comes up to your mouth in an automatic reaction, trying to stifle the sinful moan you let out as she starts lapping at you. you can't control yourself. you never could around her. your body reacts on it's own. riding her face.

momo sucks your clit into her mouth and your knees buckle. you're afraid of suffocating her but she shares none of the same concern. arms pulling you down as you try to pull away, licking and suckling.

you look directly into the camera she has set up in front of you, imagining how messed up your hair was, how utterly ruined you looked.

momo's hands are on your ass, pulling you down still, but she lands a slap, the sound echoing throughout the empty photo studio.

you yelp, gushing into her mouth. she happily drinks it up, spanking you again.

the ripple of your cheeks must be captured on the camera behind you, maybe if momo had the quality settings right, it could even see the slick flowing from your cunt into momo's mouth, onto her tongue.

you can't bear to look into the camera anymore, eyes drifting down to momo's chest.

god you could finally see her. pretty dusk-coloured peaks sitting on top of the breasts you'd only be able to conjure up in your wettest dreams. her abs flex as she huffs with effort, making sure not to let a single drop of you go to waste, working efficiently and thoroughly at your pussy, licking into every wall, every corner. her cunt glistens, you notice her thighs rubbing together and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. you do it anyway but only because momo has her tongue inside you, hits a spot that has you seeing stars.

you test her, placing a little more weight on her face. she moans eagerly around you, pulling you down further.

satisfied she can hold you up, you shift your weight onto one hand, the other tracing down momo's chest, circling a nipple.

momo groans, vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure up your core.

you grasp the flesh, squezzing as her tit spills out between your fingers. momo bucks her hips, almost shakes you off of her, but her grip on your ass is tight, she wouldn't be letting you go until you came all over her tongue.

you're still moaning uncontrollably when you lean down, still groping a tit, pressing your own chest against her abs that feel absolutely heavenly flexing under your nipples, rubbing and moving giving just the barest amount of friction that drove you insane.

you grip her thighs, resting the front of your body on hers so you could part them, licking your lips at the sight that greeted you.

her cunt was pulsating. clenching around nothing, slick dribbling out of her. she talked so much but she was just as turned on as you. you planned on giving her what she was too proud to ask for.

you dive in.

momo moans into your cunt, hips rocking up before you push her back down, lapping at her pussy.

she tastes divine. otherworldly. salty and sweet, uniquely hers, just like everything else about her was uniquely hers. momo's grunting and moaning so prettily, and you're cleaning her up, even while she continues making a mess, you know you're not much better.

you grind down against her while she rocks up into you, chasing your highs. you find her clit, sucking, reveling in the moan she sends through your body, not wanting to be beat, she doubles down, growing almost overly aggressive as she sends another slap down on your cheeks when you're least expecting it.

you can't hear each other, can't scream out the curses, her name, all you can do is grind and moan and suck.

the blinking red dot of the camera gets it all. every brush of nipples against stomach, every flick of tongue, every squeeze of ass.

it doesn't take much longer.

not when she just keeps sucking. you're sure she could draw your pussy by now, that she's memorised it all. you could probably draw hers.

your back arches as you cum, and you make sure she falls apart at the same time, massaging her thighs as she writhes and cums, whining into your pussy, drunk off your taste.

you roll off of her before she can get you going again, lying on your back, your elbows pushing you up as you finally get a look at her.

she's covered in you. huffing, throwing her head back to breathe, cum dribbling down her chin. you can't help but crawl towards her, licking it up, towards her lips.

she lets you kiss her, still catching her breath as she pants into your mouth, the taste of the both of you mixing on your tongues.

you break away, licking your lips and wiping your chin.

momo grins lazily, "i think we got some good content."

you snort, "you think?"

"mhmmm. mina will definitely be happy."

your eyes widen, "you're not showing these tapes to myoui mina?!"

"and to sana. she asked for them."

your mouth falls open, gaping dumbly at her while she laughs, patting your cheek.

"let me know if you ever need any shots done. i'll be happy to help. i'll send you the tapes too once it's edited." she winks, wobbling back up and going to check the footage.

you stare after her, still in disbelief that the three of them really were in kahoots this whole time. and then the self-consciousness hits. they were going to watch those tapes. they were probably going to cum to those tapes.

just what the hell kinda industry did you get yourself into?

[so-i-did-this-thing]

How do I stop being anxious all the time in relation to being trans? I have an appointment to go on T in 2 weeks. I'm anxious about coming out. I'm anxious about someone figuring it out before I come out. Ahhhh. I have a therapist for anxiety but I don't think it's helping.

Hoping I don't make you even more anxious, but the bottom line is some folks *will* find out and you just gotta learn to roll with it.

What has helped me:

Getting good at identifying red and green flags in cis people

It's become a habit of mine to scope out people when I join a new community. I look at profiles, what people post, etc. It's a little tiring, but I try to find the allies and other trans asap in a new fandom or whatever.

Planning for the worst

To be trans is to always have a plan to Get Out of Dodge.

A lot of times, The Worst is really only temporary embarassment. I deal with this by keeping my head held high and leaning into the more "don't fuck with me, I am tired" part of my personality.

Fake it 'til you make it -- I used to have a paralyzing fear of public mortification, and over time have ripped that apart. Sticking to my boundaries helps a lot, and I am not afraid to say, "I will not answer that question."

Here's the thing, though -- people tend to be impressed when you weather the Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, and you'll likely find yourself as someone to be looked up to. Cis folks routinely ask for my advice about their own Big Life Changes, because they have been impressed to see me go through mine. I've also helped crack a few eggs.

Sometimes The Worst is truly bad, and you should always be vigilant here. Again, I know it is exhausting, but always plan for your personal, emotional, and financial safety. Build an emergency cash fund. Cultivate friends who have your back. Always be looking for new job opportunities. Lots of stuff you can workshop with people.

Cultivating a very matter-of-fact relationship with Coming Out.

I focus on any relevant logistics and keep out my emotional backstory. Most people do not need to know how much of a mess I used to be. And I firmly state what I am doing with my future, rather than ask for permission.

My last HRT-related Coming Out email (to one of my orchestras, which is a very gendered biz) was essentially: "FYI, I am medically and legally transitioning from female to male. Just a heads up, as I'll look and sound a bit different at rehearsal -- I have a tux already for the concert. See you Friday!"

That's it. At a company, you can work with HR on your announcement, assuming one will even be necessary in your case based on your transition timeline.

When I changed my name years later, I was also direct:

"I am legally changing my name to Nicholas. It may take a while to update all my clients, so you're welcome to tell them, "Oh, [deadname] goes by Nicholas now. Thanks!"

And when I came out to my spouse in tumblr chat before our first date, it was literally: "Hey, jsyk, I am 35 and a trans man, in case that changes anything."

It takes a lot of practice to get to this point, and is something you can roleplay with your therapist.

Don't be afraid of your past

I am at a place where I will sometimes casually out myself to make a point ("No one ever needs to change the gender field for this form? I recently needed to.") or a stupid joke ("Ever since I was a little girl, I always wanted to be...").

There is a lot of value in the trans experience. You can decide how much of it you want to casually share, but it does get easier each time.

I hope this helps. Being trans means you will be coming out for the rest of your life (obviously, there are times where stealth = safety), so cultivating a no-nonsense, and even humorous, approach will go a long way for your mental health.

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Last, Last Time

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (she/her pronouns)

WC: ~7.3k

TW: Angst, guns, violence, mentions of domestic violence, blood, swearing, depression, kidnapping, manipulation, self-deprecating thoughts, heartbreak, arguing, the grieving process, drinking, screaming, crying, sobbing, throwing up, being under pressure, and anything else that comes with a criminal minds episode.

a/n: based on S15 E6 - first date. I love u aubrey plaza <3. Also inspired by the song Last, Last Time by Boys Go To Jupitar. writing this was a little bit of a catharsis since it's one of the first things I've been able to write. I'm sorry I've been so m.i.a., i just moved to a new country and that has been a crazy experience. But to cope with that, enjoy some gut-wrenching angst!

Alternate Ending! Spencer Masterlist

“Spencer I won’t—I can’t keep doing this. I’m sick of arguing in circles.” 

“Y/n…”

“I-I feel like you take me for fucking granted Spencer. All I do is work and then come home and wait for you to actually be able to, I don’t know, sleep in the same bed as me for more than four hours.”

The look in his eyes almost took you out but your heart had already been broken long, long before this argument. If anything, you were starting to feel this sense of freedom as you broke his heart. 

“Please. Y/n. Just–I don’t—Just give me a few days to convince Hotch to let me have some time off and we can work on this please.” 

“Wait for the potential of us?” 

Spencer’s jaw loosened. You couldn’t read beyond the initial layer of pain and confusion, which made your chest ache since not too long ago you could have been able to find everything you needed in his expression.

“God Spencer this can’t be fucking news to you. We’ve been drifting apart for months now.” 

“I know, I know. You have been so patient with me and I’ve just been….there was that whole thing with Cat and then….I-I was trying so hard y/n…”

“No, first there was that whole thing with Maeve.”

“That’s not fair—”

“Oh that’s not fair? Really? You’re going to tell me the entire Maeve thing isn’t fair to you?”

“I’m sorry.”

You sighed and closed your eyes. “I’m not saying you weren’t trying but come one Spencer. There’s no need to deny this shit anymore. I hate it when you lie to me about these kinds of things.” 

Spencer’s hand came up to his face and it dragged down, aging him significantly with the fatigue written all over his face. 

“So you’re just going to pack up everything, break my heart, and leave? Were you even going to say goodbye, or was I going to come home to an empty home. A note or....” 

“I-I don’t know Spencer. I just don’t…” 

The tears were starting to creep in, and you had to place the box down before you lost it.

“This isn’t easy for me either…” Your chest heaved. 

The both of you stood in silence, tension simmering surrounding the both of you like heat on a summer’s eve. Neither of you could really look at one another, but it felt wrong to look at anything else. Something was missing but you couldn’t say it outloud. You knew you would always love Spencer Reid but this time it was not enough. 

“I’m tired of arguing Spencer.” 

Your eyes met his. You felt Spencer’s arms around you before you could even feel the tears hit your cheeks. Your arms immediately went to his neck, so familiar. No longer home. 

Spencer’s voice muttered into your ear. “Don’t cry Jolie. It’ll be okay..” 

About three years ago, Spencer had decided that he didn’t like that you had nicknames for him, and he had none for you. He spent weeks workshopping different ones : Sugar, Honey, Pumpkin, Sweetheart, Darlin, Pookie, Lover, Sunny (like sunshine), Sunshine—it was a wild few weeks trying to figure out who he was talking to. Then one day, offhandedly, he was trying to tell you about this french film he had been watching, and trying to get Emily to watch with him. 

He called you ‘tres jolie’, and blushing you had asked him what it meant. He told you it meant pretty. 

And it stuck. 

Now? It stung. 

All you could do was squeeze tightly onto him, not ready to let go.

“You’re so pretty when you’re lying through your teeth.” You whispered after a few moments, pulling away out of his arms. 

“I.” You swallow and step back, out of his reach. “Maybe I’ll...” 

Spencer just looked up at the ceiling, trying to hold in the tears that were streaming down his face. 

You grabbed the last box on the counter and your keys, and walked out, for the last time. 

You awoke in your bed, eyes adjusting to the complete darkness the blackout curtains provided you. 

Another fucking night thinking about your decision those four years ago, and how your life may have gotten better because of it. 

Moving to get up from the bed, you decided to leave the curtains closed for now, feeling as if you could melt from the sun touching you. 

You turned on the bathroom light and started your morning routine. Wash face. Take meds. Brush teeth. Fix hair—

Somewhere in that process, you got lost, and just stared at yourself in the mirror. You weren’t sure for how long. All you could do was replay the last four years. 

Did you make the right choice? You were happy, you had your dream job. 

Maybe it was true what they say, you can only have a career or love, but not both—

The only thing taking you out of this spiral was the ringer on your phone going off. 

This caused some hesitation because your phone’s ringer was always off––the loud noise startling you. There were only a few people who had that emergency bypass, and none of them had called you in four years. 

You peaked out of the bathroom and saw the name light up on your phone. 

Emily Prentiss

______________________________________________________________

The door to the round room opened up and in walked Spencer Reid. “Catch me up.” 

Prentiss clicked the remote, and the TV lit up with a picture of a woman smirking facing the camera while holding a gun up to another one next to her. “Early this morning, Garcia got an email from an anonymous server.”

The second woman was tied up, mouth slightly open, and eyes filled with tears, while a man on the other side just had his eyes closed, tired. . 

Spencer just stared at the photo. 

Rossi nodded at the picture. “She's not obscuring her face, telling us she's got nothing to hide.”

He never pulled focus away from the screen, mouth dry at the thought of what today was going to be. “Any ideas on the unsub?”

“No.” Prentiss sighed. “Only the unsub's demand. That we release Catherine Adams in 24 hours.  I'm having her transferred here for questioning, but we have no illusions. This is just a game to her. We know that. The question is, do we want to play it or not?”

______________________________________________________________

Receiving a call from the FBI was not entirely new to you, since you had been engaged to one of their agents, but receiving one now? Weird. Off brand. Something was deeply wrong from them to have to give you a call. 

You hesitantly pick up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey Y/n, it’s Emily Prentiss—“

“I know who you are, Emily. It’s been a couple years, not millions.” 

Emily hummed a brief laugh, and you could hear other voices behind her, unable to make out anything. 

“I know this is hard to ask of you, but would you stay on the phone with me and come in?” 

“What?” 

“I need you to stay very calm Y/n, but I need you to stay on the line with me, leave your apartment as soon as you can, and get to the BAU.” 

“Oh my god I totally forgot. It might take me an hour to get there with all this bullshit traffic, could we push the reservation an hour? Would they be willing to do that?” 

Your entire tone changed, having remembered what Spencer had told you all those years ago about if people were listening into your apartment, if they bugged your car—all paranoia that didn’t pay off then, might be paying off now. 

You were sure you could hear Emily sigh, and it sounded a little upset at the fact that you knew what to do–you knew how to handle a dangerous situation, which made her question everything in her life. 

Quickly you pulled on a pair of jeans and threw a sweatshirt over your pajama top and grabbed your keys off of the counter. 

You left your apartment, waved to one of your neighbors, and hopped into your car, still on the line, just trying not to panic. Maybe something went wrong, maybe Spencer wasn’t okay, maybe he had died—you refused to even acknowledge that thought and decided it was something else entirely. 

It was a very tense hour of driving, that was only about forty minutes since you knew how to drive above the speed limit. 

You realized that it was past midday, and you had taken full advantage of the weekend. So at least you had a decent amount of sleep under your belt for what felt like the beginning of an extraneous night. 

As you pulled into the parking garage, Emily Prentiss and someone you had never met before were standing there waiting for you. You placed your car in park, hopped out and walked up to them–only hanging up as soon as you were out of the car. 

Both of them had such grim looks on their faces, but at least they were trying to pretend like the situation wasn’t as bad as it appeared to your face. 

Emily engulfed you in a hug. “Missed you Y/n. It’s been too long.” 

“Well Em, next time I end an engagement with someone I’ll consider your feelings first.” You squeezed him back, dryly laughing at your own joke. At least it caused Emily to snort. 

“Y/n this is SSA Luke Alvez. Luke, this is Y/n Y/l/n.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” He gave a small smile and nodded at you.

“I wish it were under different circumstances.” You nodded back and looked over at Emily.

“Let’s head inside?” 

The three of you moved inside. 

Sure, you hadn’t been here in a while, but you knew your way around the BAU Bullpen if your life depended on it, which was ironic since that was what this feels like. 

As soon as you were safely in their round table room, Luke shut the door, and stood by it, Emily coming and sitting down next to you. 

“What do you know about Cat Adams?” 

That bitch. 

______________________________________________________________

“I would like to go on a date. With you.” 

Spencer stared at her, face stoic as ever. “A date?”

“Yes. I want to look pretty. And I want to have fun.” She looked him up and down. “And I won't even get physical, ok? Unless you want me to.”

Spencer sat down across from her. “Come here. Closer.”

Cat leaned in, a small smile on her face, absolutely intoxicated by being so close to him.

“The only date that I'll be there for is the one where they stick a needle in your vein.”

Cat scoffed. “You're just going to let her father and sister die? I don't think so.”

“I never said it was a father and daughter. You're already slipping.” He stood up from the table. “We'll find them. We always do.”

Cat leaned back and crossed her arms. “Not tonight. Tonight I win.”

His resolution had yet to change, “The score between me and you is two to zero. By tomorrow morning, it'll be a clean sweep. Enjoy eternal nothingness. It's a metaphor for your life.” 

And with that, the door slammed shut behind him.

______________________________________________________________

Both the profilers watched a series of emotions run rampant across your face, before you settled on a somewhat displeased smile. “A lot.” 

They exchanged a look, and you didn’t have the energy to pretend like you didn’t know what it was. 

“Don’t start with me you two. I know profiling. I know what you’re doing. Ask me the questions you want to ask. Don’t try and trick me into giving the answers you want.” 

Alvez bit his tongue and looked away, trying to hide a small smile that appeared on his lips. 

Emily, on the other hand, hid her smile a bit better than him, but part of being previously engaged to a profiler meant you picked up on some of their tricks too. 

She nodded and pulled a file from across the table. “I’m assuming you know the basics since she, uh, is obsessed with Spencer.”

“Glad to see he still has that going for him.” You muttered and looked into the file. 

Emily shot Luke a look when he let out a huff or air, trying his damndest not to laugh. 

“What is the last thing you know about her?” 

You recounted the days leading up to the restaurant, and then the few days after, decidedly stopping short of the engagement breaking off a week later. 

They shared another look, and you didn’t enjoy whatever it was that had moved across their faces. 

“What? What happened?” 

“Y/n..”

“No Emily, I drove from DC to here, I deserve to know what happened. without some weird sugarcoating, alright?” 

Emily then begins to explain to you the past four years of Reid’s life. Cat pretending she was pregnant with his kid in prison, kidnapping his mother, framing him for murder in Mexico, going to prison—

“Spencer went to prison and none of you thought to call me….”

“We didn’t think you’d–” 

“I’m a fucking criminal defense attorney in DC Emily. Of course I’d want to know if he was arrested, especially internationally. I know that law better than all of you. If someone I knew was kidnapped, I’d call you immediately. Faster than the cops.” 

Both of them went silent. 

“So is he out?” 

They nodded slowly, silently. 

“How long was he in there.”

Nothing. 

“I asked. How. Long.”

Luke spoke up. “Three months.” 

“Jesus christ.” You stood up and started to pace around the room, taking the time you needed to calm down. 

Why didn’t Spencer call you—well you knew why Spencer wouldn’t call you. 

“Okay so he’s out.” You said finally. “Why am I here?” 

“Cat’s execution is coming up, and we….we found out that she’s convinced someone to kidnap some….people…close to Reid, and we knew you’d be on that list for him.” 

Your eyebrows went up at people but said nothing of it. Just as you went to say something else, JJ knocked on the door, another blonde woman behind her. 

They entered and JJ gave you a small, yet genuine smile. 

You returned it, but quickly shifted your gaze onto the woman behind. 

Your whole body shifted slightly, into a place of defense, locking your emotions down. You knew all the profilers were watching it happen in real time, which is why Emily walked over and stood next to you, a hand appearing on the small of your back as a comfort.

“Would someone like to tell me what is going on here?” The blonde woman spoke up, arms crossed.

At least Spencer’s taste in partners with attitude hadn’t changed. 

______________________________________________________________

“Victimology is off.”

“How so?” Prentiss looked up at him as he walked into the room. 

“Father and daughter. She’s never done that before.” 

Lewis spoke up. “She usually kills men that remind her of her father. Children–even adult children, are off limits. Do we have an ID yet.” 

Prentiss, Rossi, Garcia, and JJ all looked over at Reid, and he just pulled a hand down his face. “It’s. It’s Issac and Noelle Y/l/n.” 

“Y/l/n…as is Y/n Y/l/n.” Tara looked up surprised at Spencer. 

Reid nodded slowly, just staring at the picture on the projector.

While Luke spoke up. “Who is Y/n Y/l/n.” 

“An old friend.” Rossi quickly interjected, before any more explanation had to be said. It was clear both Alvez and Simmons, that whoever this was, was an extremely touchy subject for Reid. 

Tara, who had only known you for a little while, looked back at the picture. 

Rossie spoke up. “What do we know about the partner who’s helping her?” 

“It’s got to be someone from her prison.” Simmons spoke up. “She hasn’t had contact with anyone else.” 

______________________________________________________________

After all of that, you found yourself back in a place you left four years ago. It looked almost the same as when you had first moved in, but there was less of it. 

Almost as if he was having trouble covering places where things used to be.

There were almost no photos on the walls, since you had taken half of them, and were in the rest. 

Calling someone you once loved a stranger feels wrong. 

Max, as you had learned her name, was just sitting on the couch in your spot . She was looking around as you and Rossi stood by the kitchen counter. 

“Cat had a cellmate named Juliette Weaver. We believe the two were working together, as a way for Cat to get something against Spencer, and as payment, Cat would get Juliette’s ex.”

You nodded. “How does this affect me?” 

“She took your father and sister.” 

Your back straightened and immediately brought out your phone, to call your sister, but Rossi just grabbed your wrist (gently) and shook his head. “If she finds out you know, then it’s all over. She’s doing this on purpose. She knows about you and Reid, but she knows that dragging you into all of this will hurt him more than anything else.” 

His voice had gone low and quiet, so that the girl on the couch couldn’t hear. 

“So why is she here?” You whispered back. 

“Because we don’t want anyone in danger.” 

You closed your eyes and nodded. “I need a cup of tea.” 

Rossi let go of your wrist, and you walked into the kitchen, mostly eyes closed from the stress of the situation. 

The apartment was silent, the others watching as you grabbed a kettle, and started to make tea. It was like second nature to you as you turned the stovetop on, grabbed a mug from the cabinet (careful to not grab one of his favorites), and grabbed some tea from the cabinet. 

It didn’t dawn on you that you were drinking your favorite type of tea until the second sip, while the entire apartment was still silent. 

The pity from Rossi's look was palpable. 

“Don’t even start.” 

He shrugged and stayed silent. 

Until his walkie went off and he looked at Max. “It’s time. Let’s go.” 

Rossi looked back at you and gave you a quick hug, squeezing you tightly. “You’ve got this kid. Remember everything we talked about.” 

You nodded and gave them both a strained smile as they left the apartment, leaving you all alone in this place you once called home, alone. 

Never once, since you left, did you think you would ever be back here. You didn’t even realize you were drinking from one of your own mugs until it was just you. The irony of it was not lost on you, and you sat down in your spot on the couch. 

Well first you sat in Spencer’s seat but it felt too weird, so you shifted back into your spot on the couch. 

______________________________________________________________

“Juliette staked out in Reid’s life. Found out he was dating someone, but then must have discovered his ex-fiancée.” Simmons sighed. “He was probably so focused on Max, he didn’t even realize that someone was digging into his history, following them around.”

Prentiss nodded as they walked and talked. “But if Juliette was able to find Max, that meant she was easily able to find Y/n and her family. It means she must have access to all of her publicly available information. “

“Well at least we found their hidden agenda.” 

“No. We found Cat’s hidden agenda. Juliette doesn’t care about Reid. There’s something we’re missing here. Do a deep dive with Garcia.” 

Simmons nodded at Prentis. “On it.” 

“I’ll go to Reid's apartment and monitor onsite. Is there a trap and trace on his landline?” 

“Garcia’s almost set up.” Simmons walked away from Prentiss, and down towards Penelope’s office. 

“Well this went from bad to worse.” Tara walked up to Emily. 

Emily sighed in agreement. 

Lewis spoke up. “Female narcissists destroy their competition.Y/n  really shouldn’t be in there.” 

Emily just nodded and the two of them headed out of the bullpen. “Walk with me.” 

Tara kept stride with her as they pushed through the doors. Rossi was just getting off the phone with someone and turned to look at the two women approaching him and JJ. 

JJ spoke up when Rossi was finished. “So, the hospital just released the dad– Issac Y/l/n. He's on his way here now.

Rossi scoffed. “Question is, why let him go at all?”

“Matt's on that.” Emily gestures in the direction of Garcia’s office. “Juliette Weaver's real agenda should tell us where she's taking Y/n’s younger sister.”

Lewis spoke next. “I still think the play here is to get Cat and Juliette to contact each other, but I have no idea how.”

Prentiss crossed her arms. “I have a plan, but first we have to talk about Y/n.” 

______________________________________________________________

Just then, you heard the click of the door, and stood up, watching as the door swung open. 

And there he was. 

This was the first time you had seen Spencer in four years. 

And here he was, kissing Catherine Adams. 

The woman you could give partial credit to for ending your relationship. 

After a moment Spencer looked up, and took several steps away from Cat. His eyes were wide and locked on yours. 

It took a lot of self-restraint to not punch the lights out of Cat, and to stand still arms crossed. 

“Y/n?” Spencer’s voice broke a little bit. 

You never would say that Spencer was unattractive. In fact, it would be a lie if you ever said it. But something about the past four years aged him like a fine wine. 

His hair was a bit longer, he had some scruff—his baby face had melted away and standing in front of you was a man who thought you knew everything about, but was now a stranger. 

You didn’t answer him, watching as he took you in, standing in his apartment, for the first time since…

“What are you doing here?” 

You looked over at Cat, who had the most devious smirk on her face. 

Remember what Prentiss had said to you. 

“You know why I’m here.” 

Cat nodded and the two of them moved into the apartment, the door closing behind them. 

Spencer just stood ten feet away from you, eyes never leaving you, and you watched him right back. 

Cat, on the other hand, was walking around, examining the apartment. You could see her take notice of the tea you had made yourself on the counter. You could see the hatred from the corner of your eyes. The two of you were starting to piss her off. 

She spoke up, after a few moments of silence. “Did it make you mad that I was kissing your Fiancé?” 

You shook your head. “No.”

Your focus had fully turned to Cat, but you swore you swore you could hear Spencer take a sharp inhale as you spoke your next words.

“Well, he's not my fiancé and I kind of have some other things on my mind.”

Cat didn’t scare you, but there was just something so off-putting about her. “Like what?” 

“Are you gonna hurt Noelle?”

Cat shrugged. “Not if I don't have to, no. Honestly, if she follows instructions, she might even learn from this whole experience.”

You scoffed. “What does that mean?”

Cat just started fiddling with the chess set on the dresser. 

“Spencer, what does she mean?” You turned to look back at him, his name feeling so good on your tongue. 

Spencer, who really hadn’t stopped looking at you and sighed. “I think…She means that Noelle isn’t learning from her, but from Juliette.” 

You sat down in your spot on the couch, arms crossed. You were on the full defense. 

Spencer noticed where you sat and had to look down to conceal any notions of a smile on his face. 

Cat watched him before turning and looking at you, some more disdain on her face than before. 

“Normally, Spencie and I, we spend our time together playing games, but tonight, I've brought you all here to make a point. You are doing so much better.” 

Spencer spoke up. “With you?”

“I'm not talking to you.” Cat snapped at him before she turned to you. “I'm talking to you. Because, girlfriend, you need to know the truth about your fiancé.” 

“He's not my finacé.” You were unsure about how many more times you could say that outloud. 

“No kidding. When’s the last time you spoke? Right…” Cat walked over to the center of the room, right in front of the couch. “Here?” 

Your head whipped around to Spencer. “You told her about that?”

Spencer was pleading with his eyes. “I had to say a lot of things tonight.”

Cat’s voice caused your head to snap back to her. “Yes, he has. He said that you never compared to me, that, um... That no matter what, he will never get me out of his mind, unlike you. Unlike that girlfriend.” 

You tried not to wince at the mention of that girl Maxine out in one of the trucks.

Spencer sat down next to you. “Everything I said—I was lying to save your family.”

Cat scoffed. “Did our kiss look like a lie?” 

“No.” you just looked down at your hands. 

“Thank you. See, now we're getting to the heart of the matter.” Cat started mocking Spencer. “You see, everyone thinks that Dr. Spencer Reid is... Is just this nice, bookish, uh, genius who, uh, always saves the day and has all the answers. And has zero mommy issues, right? But, um... I know the real him.” 

“Oh, yeah? Who's the real me, Cat?” 

“The real Spencer Reid throws women against walls. And hisses that he's going to kill them.” 

Spencer stood up, squaring off against her.  “That was a very different situation.”

“No, it wasn't.” Cat was holding the smirk back this time, making your gut wretch. 

“Spencer…What is she talking about?” You looked from the psychopath in front of you, to the man you realized you might have never really known beside you.

“You tell her. She's not gonna believe it coming from me.” She huffed. 

Reid turned and looked at you. “Two years ago, Cat had her partner kidnap my mother. Just like tonight. She got under my skin and…”

Your chest hurts. “And you threw her against a wall?” 

Cat’s smirk was breaking through whatever resolve she had. “Don't skimp on the details, Spencie. She deserves to know everything.”

Every single time she said Spencie you swore a shock went up your spine. 

Spencer looked down at his hands, and then over at you. His voice had gotten quieter. “She was pregnant at the time and I knew that when I hurt her.” 

“And?” She stood there expectantly, waiting for Spencer to finish. When he didn’t, her face suddenly became solemn. “The next day... I miscarried. The end.”

Spencer looked at her. “That's not true.” 

“It is most certainly true. Check my medical records.” 

“That doesn't mean I-I would…”

Cat held up her hand to him. “Stop. Look.”

Spencer looked over at you, just sitting on the couch, trying to process everything that was going through your head. 

After thinking about everything you had gone through, especially with Spencer. “I thought you were better than that Spence.” 

It was the first time you had used a nickname for him in years. And he was hearing it for the first time while you were stuck in a standoff between himself and Cat Adams, your sister being god knows where. 

Spencer’s voice cracked. “I'm sorry.” 

Cat squatted down in front of you, a sick smile on her lips. She was enjoying this. She truly enjoyed watching his life crumble to bits. “Notice how your Spencie is apologizing to you and not me.”

You clenched your hands. “He’s not mine…”

Spencer just looked over at you. 

Cat nodded. “That's good. Because men are all the same. Aren't they, Jolie?” 

Spencer’s eyes lit up with an emotion you rarely saw from him when you were together. “Don't call her that.”

And you couldn’t blame him. The word ran you through like a spear and you were sure if you looked behind you, the blade would be through the couch. You tried so hard to not let either of the two people near you see how much it messed with you. Luckily for you, Cat was too busy pushing Spencer’s buttons to see the way her words won against you. 

Cat hissed at him. “What, are you gonna throw me against a wall and choke me, or do you only do that to pregnant women?” 

You finally spoke up. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want you to see it.” She gestured to Spencer. “I want you to see that he is...no better than he was before, or any man after. They’re all the same.” 

“Stop.”

Cat squatted down in front of you. “I can see it on your face. What's his name?” 

You stared back at her. “It's none of your business.”

That damned smirk of hers returned. “It is exactly my business. In fact, it's my specialty. I mean, I could have Juliette and baby sister go over there if you want. They could take care of him.” 

Reid looked over at you. “Say yes. Give her what she wants.” 

“Hmm. See, he wants you to get me to make a little phone call so they can trace it.” She moved away from you both and sat down in the lounging chair across from you. “They're so good, the FBI.”

You jumped up and started pacing, a spitting image of four years ago. “What is wrong with the two of you? What is this sick, twisted thing that you have? Listen, I just want to save my sister. Will you please just tell me what I have to do to do that?” 

“Tell me his name. Tell me the story. That's it. And then if they can let Juliette exit stage right, then I promise you I will let her go.”

You looked between Cat and Spencer before walking over to the kitchen, and hanging up the phone. After staring down at the decision you had just made, you walked back over and took your phone out. “Here.  Use this. Use my phone. They can't trace it.”

She just watched you. “You'd be surprised.”

“I don't even need a call. Just... just a photo.” You held the phone out to her. “Something to prove to me that she's still alive. Please”. 

Cat just looked up at your face. “Story first.”

“Y/n. Please.” Spencer turned to you, hoping you’d look back at him. “I have been here with her before. She called the number and told the partner to kill my mom.”

“It is so tricky, isn't it? I mean, who are you gonna trust? The lying, cheating, violent psychopath... Or me?”

You looked down at the ground, refusing to look over at Spencer. “His…His name was Mike Davis. We dated for two years. I met him a month after we…we split.”

Cat’s attention on you felt as if there were a million bees stinging your body all at different intervals, pain coursing through your body. “Good. When did it end?” 

“Last year.” 

“Was he good in bed?” 

Spencer stood up. “Shut up.” 

Cat was enjoying this. She was enjoying watching you make Spencer uncomfortable. She was enjoying hurting him in every masochistic way she could. “What? You have to know where you stand.”

“He was good…” You looked back at Cat. “Good at, um, separating me from my friends and my family. Enough that the first time he punched me in the face, I didn't have anywhere to go. And my first response wasn't "get out." It wasn't "go to hell." It was "I'm sorry, Mike." That's when he knew he had me.”

There was a glint in Spencer’s eyes, and you could swear they were tears, but you couldn’t tell from rage or sorrow. 

Cat continued to probe. “How many hospital visits were there?” 

You showed her a small scar on the inside of your elbow. “None. No, he... He knew how to hurt me just enough to hide it all, I guess.”  

“But you found the strength to leave. What did you do?” 

“ I planned and I... I waited.”

Cat’s eyes lit up. “Waited for what? “

“I live here in D.C.” You looked between Spencer and Cat. “but I'm also a resident in Virginia. It takes 60 days for the permit to clear.”

Spencer’s eyes widened. “Y/n, stop talking. Stop talking right now.”

Cat shushed him. “No, don't stop. Here. Give me the phone. Look, I'm gonna enter the text. Stick the landing and I'll hit "send."

You handed her the phone and she quickly typed out a message, her thumb hovering over send. 

Fiddling with your ring finger, you started to speak again. Slowly. Concisely. “When I was ready, I picked a fight. Loud enough for the neighbors to hear. And he came at me with his fist just cocked back, so I pulled my Glock 19 out of my purse. I shot him.”

Spencer tried to interject. “It was self-defense. He was attacking you—”

“That's what I told 911 as he was struggling to breathe on his kitchen floor. That's why the police never charged me. I’m a lawyer, I know how to plead.” You closed your eyes. “But I... after I hung up, I... I shot him two more times.” 

Cat was glowing, spinning around to face Spencer. “Wow, you really have a type, don't you? Quite a dilemma, too. She just admitted to murder.” 

Spencer was in disbelief. “She'll beat it.” . 

“Probably. But whatever feelings she might have still had for you, and whatever Maxine might have seen in you—-it’s all gone.” 

The phone in your hand buzzed.

“Oh, wow. Look at that. Your sister. Alive and well. You're welcome.” 

Your face hardened up, and you stood up straighter. Walking away from the two of them, you opened the door. “I got it.” 

She took the phone from your hand and you turned back to the two of them. There was no emotion behind your eyes as you looked back at Spencer. 

Cat smirked and looked up at Spencer. “I win.” 

______________________________________________________________

The prison transport was quiet, with the two guards sitting across from Spencer and Cat. It had been silent for about twenty minutes, but then, Cat spoke up. 

“Do you know why I did this? Why I really did this?” 

Spencer looked down at his hands. “You wanted to prove I'm a monster just like you.”

“No... Silly. I just wanted to see you again. I just wanted to make sure that you would never forget about me.” She sighed. “'Cause when they do put that needle in my arm, I just want there to be even the slightest chance that... Maybe you're still thinking about me…”

Spencer stiffened as she placed her head on his shoulder. “You didn't have to terrorize 3 innocent people. You could've just written a letter.” 

“Would you have written me back?” 

When Spencer didn’t respond, Cat knew her answer. 

“Bye, Spencie. I really enjoyed our date.” She smiled at him desperately, getting dragged out of the vehicle by the guards to the prison. 

______________________________________________________________

The elevator door opened and Spencer walked out of it, his whole body reeked of defeat, and he barely looked at Emily as she spoke.  “We need to debrief.” 

Spencer just walked right past her, and into the bullpen. His expression changed when he saw you on one side talking to Tara, and Max on the other, looking up at him right as he walked in. 

“Spencer, are you okay?” 

Her voice caught your ear, and immediately you looked up to see her walk over and embrace him in a hug. 

He smiled at her, and grateful returned the hug before muttering that he would be back, and explain everything.

You were never going to get back together with Spencer, but watching it in real time was like unlacing an old wound. 

Spencer walked over to you, and you stood up as he approached. 

“Uh, Tara, would you mind giving us…”

She nodded at him and walked away. 

Both of you went to speak, trying to say something to the other. 

“I should explain all of this.” 

Spencer shook his head. “You don’t have to explain any of that Y/n—it doesn’t.” 

You cut him off. “It was fake—most of it. I didn’t kill anyone, Spence. I was just lying to her to get her to send the text from my phone. It was all…It was made up.” 

He just nodded, staring at you really. 

You gave him a soft smile, and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. Both of you could feel the pulse between it, making you remove your hand and take a small step back. 

“Thank you for saving my sister and father.” 

Spencer watched your resolve fully formed, masking whatever you were feeling. He hated watching it happen to him, watching as you placed whatever feelings you had back into somewhere he couldn’t find. 

Garcia walked over and placed a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “I just need you both to know, Cat Adams had a miscarriage, but it was months after whatever encounter you had. It’s not your fault. We looked at her records.” She was speaking low for you both, yet both of you let out a quiet sigh of relief. 

“They filled me in on everything that happened between both of you in the past couple years, and they asked me if I would be willing to…help them beat her.” 

Spencer looked up at you, and unlike yourself, every single emotion Spencer was feeling was racing across his face. 

He didn’t like that you knew about everything that had gone down. He was so happy you were okay. He was a little impressed by the way you beat Cat at her own game. He was upset that you put yourself in danger. 

“They gave me an ear piece and everything.” 

Spencer shook his head. “You’re not trained—that’s extremely dangerous of you.” 

You sighed and nodded. “Unfortunately Spencer, this is…this was the life I was used to when we were together. I knew the stakes. I mean the briefings I had with Hotch after you relapsed…” 

Spencer just clammed up and stood a bit straighter. “ I never knew..”

“It was like that on purpose. I didn’t want you to think that you were a burden or too much or—I was doing it for the potential of…” You cut yourself of, flinching at the parallels between this and your previous final conversation. 

You looked over at Garcia. “I need my bag Pen.” You whispered, taking a step away from Spencer. “I shouldn’t…I finished my job. My family is safe…” 

She had a rueful look on her face, but she nodded and took your arm, walking you back over to the desk where your stuff was. 

He looked up at Emily and walked over to her. “I’m…uh. I’m gonna go walk her out and then I’ll be right back.” 

Emily gave him the saddest smile, and just nodded. She knew that nothing she could say could make it any better. 

You grabbed your coat, and your bag, and the two of you walked to the elevator in silence, riding it all the way down to the parking garage, where your car was still there from this afternoon, all of those hours ago. 

You looked over at Spencer, tears in your eyes, having not said anything to him. 

As soon as he met your eyes, you dropped your bag, and Spencer wrapped his arms around you tightly, just holding you and resting his head on yours; trying to give you the comfort that he was rarely able to give you. 

Sobbing into his arms, you just tightly wrapped your arms around his torso and just held onto him tightly. Trying to decompress, trying to truly understand everything that had happened in the past twelve hours. 

It was Spencer who spoke first. 

“I’m so so sorry Y/n.” He whispered. “I never meant any of this to happen to you, and for you to get dragged back here and—” 

You shook your head slightly, but didn’t move from where you were. Neither of you did. 

“It’s what she wanted, Spence, and unfortunately for us, this was always bound to happen.” You whispered. 

The hug felt so good, but something about it was just so different. 

It’s not the way it used to be. 

“I need to go Spencer.” 

He nodded, and this time you moved away from him. His hand came up and wiped away one of the remaining tears on your cheek. 

You closed your eyes, and took a deep breath. 

“Oh fuck, why is this so fucking hard four years later.” You laughed, trying to regain any sort of composure. 

“Y/n…”

You took another step away from him and shook your head. 

“We can’t—I’m not.” You tried so hard to find the right words without bursting into tears again. “Spencer. I cannot put myself back to where I was four years ago. I can’t do it. And yes things have changed, but maybe that is for the better. Maybe you were always meant to be my maybe, and not my always.” 

You took another breath, but kept going. “You are amazing, and funny, and so smart Spence. But this…we ran our course. It didn’t work then, and I don’t know if I have it in me to try again just for it to fail.” 

“Y/n please.” 

“I will always love you but this…It’s time to…It’s time to stop. I have to go back to my life, and you go back upstairs to yours, with Prentiss and Rossi and Penelope and…Max.” 

Both of you winced as you said her name, but you took a step forward, moving to kiss him on the cheek. 

Spencer gently grabbed you face, giving you enough time to back out. 

You didn’t. 

His lips locked with yours, his thumb rubbing against your cheek as the two of you shared one more moment, just for the two of you. 

But it had to end. 

You couldn’t go back to the anxiety, the arguing, the petty disagreements. It wasn’t good for you. It was good for either of you. 

Stepping away again, you gently kissed his cheek, and started to slowly walk to your car. 

Right as you got to your car, you turned around and made eye contact with him one last time before the elevator doors closed, both of you with the most gut wrenching smile slightly plastered across your faces. 

You mouthed goodbye, unable to speak it out loud, and he nodded, tears filling his eyes as he whispered it back to you. 

The doors shut. 

You were all alone in this hollow parking garage. 

Your heart was aching, burning. 

But there was a sigh of relief, that came with the doors closing, and saying goodbye for the last, last time. 

[xoxolilixx]

★𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙤𝙣𝙚★

𝙀𝙠𝙠𝙤 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

✩𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 - you help Ekko relax a little

✩𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨 - Smut with plot, fingering, oral(reader receiving)

✩𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - heyyyy😅 ik it's been a while, I kinda disappeared off the face of the earth, MY BADDDDD😁 I figured since I've been gone for a good second, I should come back with a treat, so here you are lovebugs❤️ I hope you guys like it🩷🌺

Sweat trickled down his forehead as he worked. He was hunched over his desk, hands aching and mind clouded as he continued his repairs to his hoverboard. It was late –3 am to be exact– and Ekko’s been sleepless since the battle on the bridge with Jinx. You were worried about him. You knew how stressful this was for him; between failing to save his former best friend and making sure everything stays afloat with the firelights, he was basically drowning in his work and stress. Ekko was a relatively calm person, but whenever you tried to talk to him about everything, he would just shut down and push you away, so you learned to give him space, but tonight you couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m surprised you haven’t frozen to stone like that,” you spoke softly, not wanting to startle him. His workshop door was cracked open and all the lights except for the one that sat right above his desk were dimmed. “...you should be asleep,” he whispered, not looking up from his work. His voice was weary and tired, you could hear the stress in his voice, it made your heart crack. “So should you, love,” your voice stayed soft, calming. The last thing you wanted was to be another harsh thing in his life right now. “The bed misses you,” you joked softly as you came up behind him, your soft hands landing on his shoulders. They were tense, his whole body was, and the tenseness didn’t falter when you touched him like how it usually did. “I’ll be there soon,” he uttered. “How soon? By the end of the month? Because I haven’t seen you in bed in 3 weeks,” you were sincere with a half joking tone as your hands gently ran down his body as you hugged him from behind, “I miss you baby…just…come on for tonight, get some rest. It’ll be here in the morning- I’ll even come in and help you with it,” you pleaded softly, your lips against his neck as you eyed his work from his shoulder. You didn’t want him to open up before he was ready, you didn’t want to push his limits, and you didn’t want to bitch to him about how closed off he’s been, you just wanted him to get some rest.

He sighed at your words, his hands pausing their movements for just a small moment, “Just-...let me finish this up, okay?” he uttered, his tone slightly softer than before. You huffed as you felt him lean into your arm, planting a small kiss on your upper arm as he started working again. You knew him, he wasn’t going to come to bed any time soon, he would just magically find something else that needed his attention and forget all about getting rest. “You’re helpless, you know that?” you huffed out against the shell of his ear, “your whole workshop is gonna be renovated before you come to bed.” He could hear the slight irritation in your words as you removed your touch from him, it made him tense up more. He knew you were being patient with him, and knowing that he was making it harder for you somehow made him feel worse than the stress did.

“Wait,” he uttered out before you got too close to the door. You immediately turn around, as if it was a reflex, “yes Ekko?” “...c’here,” he uttered, his hands abandoning his work as he looked over his shoulder. You didn’t fight the urge to walk back over to him. Soon, you were standing in between his legs and his hands were on your hips. “I’m sorry baby,” he sighed, his hands giving a loving squeeze to your body. His stress seemed to melt away the more you were around him, and you loved that, but constantly trying to get him to melt was frustrating, so you wanted to milk this as much as you could.

“Prove it,” you huffed, feigning irritation as you crossed your arms. For the first time in a while, he cracked a smile, chuckling as he immediately picked up on your game. “You want me to prove that I’m sorry?” he chuckled, his hands running up your waist, pushing up your (his) shirt as he did so. “Yea,” you huffed, your act almost breaking as he tugged you down on his lap, making you straddle him. “And tell me princess, how do you want me to do that?” he smirked as your hands rested on his shoulders as his hand gently grabbed your chin, running his thumb across your bottom lip. “Surprise me,” you smiled, finally breaking your act. It felt like he was a magnet, slowly pulling you closer, the space in between you closing at a steady pace. “Surprise you, huh? I got you~” he uttered before pressing his lips into yours.

This was the quickest you’ve ever seen Ekko forget about a project. Your lips danced with his as his hands roamed your body, running from your waist to your hip down to your thighs before finally resting on your ass, his hands giving it a soft squeeze. Your hands weren't much different; running from his shoulders down his chest to his abs and then back up to his blonde locs. It didn't take long for all restraint to disappear once his tongue slipped into your mouth, a soft whine escaping your throat as he explored your mouth. You felt him smile into the kiss, making your heart melt. If this was all it took to get him to loosen up, you would’ve been tried this.

You felt him remove one of his hands off your body, reaching behind you to tug his hoverboard off the table and onto the floor, giving him space to grab your hips and lift you up onto the table. You stayed connected in a messy kiss as he gripped your thighs and toyed with the waistband of your night shorts. You finally broke away, strings of saliva connecting you both as you panted softly, trying to catch your breath as you smiled down at him as he tugged at your waistband, a smile on his face as while. “There we go~” you cooed, your soft hands cupping his cheeks, “Finally got you to smile f’me,” you giggled, his smile only growing bigger. “Who wouldn’t for you, baby?” he chuckled as he tugged down your waistband, silently signalling to you to lift your hips, which you happily obliged.

He pressed soft, wet kisses all along your jaw and neck as he tossed your shorts somewhere behind him, pushing your thick thighs apart, revealing the damp spot on your orange, lacy panties, bringing a smirk on his face. “All that for me?” he smirked slyly, gripping you by your thighs and tugging you closer to the edge of the table. “No one else but you,” you giggled. “You must have really missed me,” he chuckled before pressing a kiss into your lips, swallowing the soft moan you let out when the pad of his thumb pushed into your clit through the flimsy fabric. The pretty sounds continued to spill out as he drew tight circles into the little bud.

At some point, he slowly stood up, his lips still locked with yours and his fingers still moving. “Lay back f’me baby,” he muttered against your lips lowly, but you weren't giving much of a choice when he placed a hand on your stomach and gently pushed you back. A shiver went down your spine as he placed soft, wet kisses down your body, making his way between your thighs, sucking hickeys over top of the stretch marks on your inner thighs. You leaned up on your elbows, looking down your body and watching him work on your body, allowing your eyes to lock with his. God damn it, he was fucking gorgeous like this; in between your legs, looking up with hooded but loving eyes, blonde locs falling in his face just a little. A gasped escaped your lips as he kissed your clothed cunt before he tugged the messy fabric to the side. Ekko bit back a groan as he watched strings of your arousal fall from the fabric as your pussy shimmered under the dim lighting. His dick leaked in his pants a little at the sight. “You’re so fucking pretty~” he cooed softly, making your heart melt and your cheeks flush, but before you could even respond, his mouth was on your cunt, coaxing struggled whines and moans from you as the sound of him slurping and licking your core filled the room. Your fingers tangled in his locs, tugging his head deeper between your legs as your head lulled back, your hips grinding against his face as he gripped your thigh with one hand, tugging you impossibly closer to him as he slipped one of his long, thick fingers into your tight hole.

He ate you like a starved man, but honestly the way he’s been locked up in his workshop, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was one. He now had two fingers pumping in and out of you, curling perfectly against that one gummy spot inside of you as he slurped and sucked at your clit, the juices from your previous orgasm pooling in the palm of his hand and on his desk under you.

He reluctantly detached from your cunt after your third orgasm leaving you a panting and shaking mess in front of him as he smirked down at you. “How’s that for proof?” he smirked, earning a breathless giggle from you as he licked your juices off his now dripping hand. “Ya know, I came in here to try and help you un-stress~” you giggled. “Hm, then you did a amazing fucking job baby,” he chuckled lowly, leaning down to lock lips with you, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips.

“Lets go to bed~” he uttered, scooping you off his table, leaving a mess for him to clean up later.

[blackwidownat2814]

Pairing: Tyler Owens x female reader, Tyler Owens x shy!reader, Tyler Owens x insecure!reader

Word Count: 1408

Summary: You begin your new job as a Tornado Wrangler (remotely), and meet most of the team. It isn't until you suffer a little mishap that you meet the man himself.

A/N: Thank you all so much for the wonderful response to the Prologue!!! I didn't think it'd be that much of a hit, so I was surprised with all the love. After finishing this chapter, I feel like it could've been part of the Prologue, but oh well. It's been a while since I've written as well, so bear with me. As always, thanks to my awesome beta, @buckysdollforlife, for their help with this and for creating the header for this story (I LOVE IT!!!!) and bestie, @13braincellsonly, for allowing me the use of their son's name and personality when I needed to come up with a horse. **All descriptions of Ziggy the horse were approved by his momma.** And as always, I will be cross-posting this to AO3. If you see this story anywhere besides AO3 or Tumblr, it's stolen.

City Girl Knows Her Stuff

You became a Wrangler near the end of the season that first year.  Kate picked you up at the airport with two members of the team: Lily and Dani.  Lily immediately pulled you into a hug, chatting a mile a minute about how excited she was to have you on the team.  Dani (perhaps picking up on your shyness) offered a handshake and big smile, welcoming you to Oklahoma.  Kate was more than happy to let Dani and Lily talk your ear off on the drive to Sapulpa, where you’d be staying with Cathy until you found a place.  She knew it was somewhat difficult for you to make friends, so she was happy to see you enjoying a conversation with two new friends.

You got to meet Dexter when he came by in the van to pick up Lily and Dani.  You thought he was funny and enjoyed some very science-centric conversations with him.  Before they all left, Lily let you take her drone for a spin.  You enjoyed it so much that for your birthday later that year, she gifted you a smaller drone that wasn’t quite like hers, but it had a small camera and small, tinny sounding speaker.  She even had it painted in your favorite color.  That would become one of your absolute favorite gifts.  It made you cry.

Like most storm chasers, you had to have a job in the off season, so you got a remote data analyst job with the NOAA offices in Norman and moved out to a place just out of Sapulpa.  This would allow you to visit Cathy at the farm and work on data in the barn workshop the Wranglers had set up.  You even got yourself a cat.  Abandoned due to his looks and runt status (according to the shelter), you snatched him up the first time you saw him.  Black cats didn’t scare you.  Life with Roach (you’d spent quite a bit of time watching The Witcher) was idyllic and you were happy.

By the time you met Boone, the Wranglers felt like family…and Boone felt like the brother you never had.  Like Boone, you were an only child and didn’t have much of an extended family and it was a bit lonely in the beginning.  The difference, however, was that Boone was an outgoing guy and it was easy for him to make friends and talk to people he didn’t know, whereas that scared you half to death most of the time.  You loved his boisterous way of being, but you also appreciated that he (like Dani) could tell when your social battery had run down and turned it down and would sometimes sit with you in a quiet environment.  Sometimes he’d sit and nap while you read or he’d pick up the latest meteorological article (or sometimes the latest comic he picked up at the shop).  He didn’t even make fun of your nickname like others had before, so you trusted him.

The day of Cathy’s pre-tornado season bbq, while cleaning some dishes, you confessed to Boone that you were nervous about meeting the head tornado wrangler himself, Tyler Owens.

“T’s a sweetheart B, you got nothin’ to worry about.  Why are ya nervous?”

“Boone!  He doesn’t know me, what if he doesn’t think I’m a right fit for the team?  What if he doesn’t like how I do work?  Y’all are famous ‘round here, what if he gets irked by the fact that big crowds make me nervous and it takes me forever to become comfortable with people?  You know it’s not easy for me to talk to people I’ve never talked to before”, you cried in exasperation.

“B, imma need you to take a breath, okay?” Boone reassured you as he placed his hands on your shoulders.  “If Ty thought any of those things, I would definitely not be workin’ with ‘em.”

You were so busy trying to get yourself to relax that you missed Kate wandering into the kitchen.

“B, are you freakin’ out about meetin’ Tyler again?” she asked.  You and Boone nodded.  “Well, you don’t have to worry.  He won’t be able to come today, said he had to drive down to Texas to see his parents.”

You breathed out a sigh of relief, sending some of your hair floating up.  “Good, I have time to relax about it.  Thanks Kate.”

“Thank Tyler’s parents.”

“Thank you, Mr. & Mrs. Owens!” you said to no one in particular and dried your hands, as you looked over at your friends.  “See you two out there!”

Kate and Boone followed, but stayed on the porch, both taking twin sips from their beers.

“You think either of them has any idea what’s about to happen to ‘em?” Boone asked.

“Meaning that Tyler is going to become enamored the second she opens her mouth?”

“Yup.”

“And that she’s going to have the same thing happen to her the second she comes into contact with that cocky cowboy swagger that he exudes when you meet him the first time?”

“Yup.”

“No, I don’t think either of ‘em knows what’s coming.”

A few days before the chasing season began, you brought Roach down to Cathy’s, where he would be staying while you were out with the Wranglers for your first season on the road.  

While there, you asked Cathy if you could saddle up your favorite of her horses, Zig, nicknamed Ziggy.  He wasn’t the brightest of the bunch; he was the type of horse you’d see in a video because someone thought he was dead but in actuality, he was just sleeping.  You swore that his mother, a horse named KJ, rolled her horse eyes every time someone caught him playing dead.

Ziggy may not have been the sharpest pitchfork in the barn, and may not have enjoyed doing much of anything besides looking dead when he slept, but he enjoyed riding through fields with you.  He knew whenever he saw you approaching with a bowl that he was about to get one of his favorite snacks: ice cubes with apple bits in them.  You put Ziggy’s snack bucket down so he could munch while you brushed him and got him saddled and ready to go for a ride.

When Ziggy let you know that he was done with his snack, you popped in your earbuds and shuffled your favorite classical music playlist on Spotify.  You found it was one of your favorite ways to relax.  After you climbed on Ziggy’s back, and kicked him into gear, you took off for the open fields near the road leading up to the farm.

You’d been out there for a while when you started hearing the faint rumble of an engine, but ignored it because trucks passed near this area all the time.  You probably shouldn’t have ignored it though, because when that modified-to-withstand-tornadoes red Dodge Ram 3500 turned on to the road and took off towards the main house, Ziggy took off after it.  By now, you shouldn’t have been surprised that he recognized the truck or the person in it, but you were…and because you were so thrown off by it, your hands (stupidly) had not been holding the reins.  And because you had not held on, you went flying off Ziggy’s back while he just followed the familiar truck.  Lucky for you, the fall didn’t cause you to go unconscious, but it did knock the wind out of you after you landed hard on your back.

As you attempted to take deep breaths, you heard someone yelling and running towards you, so you tried to sit up.  The voice yelled for you to not move, so you listened and stayed on the ground, with your eyes shut.  You just lay there, waiting.

All of a sudden:

“Are you okay?” the voice asked.  You knew that you knew who the voice belonged to but you were so thrown by being thrown that your brain wasn’t focusing.  You blinked your eyes open, and your vision swam before focusing on the most beautiful face.

“Wha-”

“Are you okay, darlin’?” he asked as he helped you sit up.

“Uh…”

“Did you black out?”

“No.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“Cathy’s farm, in Sapulpa.”

“Do you know your name?”  He smiled when you told him.  “Where’d you come in from?”

“New York City.”

“Why are you here?”

“I’m the new data analyst for the Wranglers.”

“Well…looks like we got another city girl that knows her stuff.”

Tagging: @ladybirdbeetle7 @omgbrianab @itsdesiree86 @avengersfan25 @keyrani @thedonswife13 @lonelyghosts-stuff

DON'T FORGET TO LIKE AND REBLOG!!!!

Main Masterlist

[elsewhereuniversity]

Jw, but it's been a minute. Are y'all okay? Any updates?

Thanks for checking in, that's really sweet of you. Sorry for the radio silence. To be honest I am Not Doing Great. I'm getting through it and things should get easier in a few weeks, but it's been a rough winter.

About the boat/accident/insurance, no word since last October. Still no idea if we can expect any compensation for the months of lost income from the accident. Depending on the day I get either very sad or very angry about it still. The paperwork is mostly sorted out now, but that's been a nightmare at times too. And I've found I'm now really anxious about something happening to my partner/going wrong on the boat when I'm not there to help. I was parking the car when the accident happened and my partner was on board trapped below deck by the falling mast. I ran the whole way to the docks and I don't remember most of it. ig the whole thing's had more of an impact on me than I'd realized, and managing that's been a challenge.

My partner and I also got hit with about 10k total of unexpected and necessary expenses (dental surgery and vehicle repairs being the big things). I had to get a winter job to cover us, leaving my partner to repair the boat alone. So I've been working 80-90hrs a week while he's doing what's rightfully a job for two people, and every week there's been a new crisis that's a thousand dollars plus to fix. We've scraped through, and we'll be alright, but it's been exhausting.

Because of that, repairs are taking longer than we'd hoped. They're still ongoing, and at this point all the spruce for the new mast is planed smooth to the right width, but it's on hold for the moment because the table saw isn't working right. The owner of the workshop has told us not to use it at all till he can look at it himself. Once that's fixed we can start cutting rabbets - the grooves that let the planks fit together. But it's definitely not getting finished before summer.

It'll get easier soon. I do genuinely like my winter job, and once it wraps up, I can help my partner in the shipyard. I'm mostly recovered from dental surgery at this point. A friend offered us his boat so our little tour company can sail this summer like normal, and that'll be enough to pay the bills and fund the next year of repairs. The owner of the workshop says we can keep our 50ft table set up all summer so we can keep working on the mast when we have rain days. If we can just make it to June then we'll be in the water with all major yearly expenses covered and a regular source of income again, and from there life should get easier.

That's where we're at right now - no big news, just getting through. We're shifting gears soon to focus on getting the new boat ready for the season, and we're hoping that over the summer we'll complete the new mast and begin to address to damage to Nautilus' deck and hull, starting by pulling up her teak planking to get at the fiberglass below. She's stored outside so that's a warm weather project anyway.

Thanks again for asking, it means a lot. Sorry I've been so quiet here. My partner's taken some lovely videos of the planing and other workshop things. I've been too tired/busy to sort through and post them, but I'll get there eventually. I miss elsewhere a lot; one of my only non-work things is picking away at that little elsewhere u text game I'm still trying to write. Nowhere near fit for human consumption yet, but I miss it here! When things are finally better I'm looking forward to coming back.

[inkskinned]

for the longest time my family used to host one of the biggest haunted houses on my block: elaborate, themed amateur haunts that pearled out along our lawn for one-night-only. spinning circus wheel-of-terrors and walkthrough alien crash-landings and spiders that arched over our driveway, leaking venom onto your feet.

we didn't have a lot of money; and honestly i don't know how we afforded what we did have. there were not going to be pneumatics or projectors or any supply over 20 dollars - and even 20 was a stretch. we were lucky, and we lived in a town that had a "swap shed", where people would drop off any banged-up-but-usable items that they wanted to get rid of. the whole year, my family would pick over someone else's discarded fans and lights and weird decorations, asking each other - what do you think? for halloween?

we would strip the motors out of rusted fans and spraypaint vases and saw broom handles in half and apply a very thick coat of cardboard and duct tape to everything. for our pirate year, i made the mistake of individually drawing woodgrain onto each strip of cardboard that made up the ship. i then gently painted and distressed the "boards" so they'd each have lichen and cracks and unusual patterns. i hid eyes in the knots and shaped skulls. you couldn't see any of it in the dark, even under our "spotlight" (someone's target-branded workshop flashlight).

i have a lot of very strange skills as a result. i know how to make a flying ghost appear both physically and in the mirror. i know how to make a witch's brew that stirs itself. i know how to burn and cut and paint until there is an iron throne you can sit on, or an alien brushing your ankles, or a hearse trundling along. i can't say we ever made it beyond our local newspapers, but we tried so hard that the town would regularly shut down our street.

i can't put any of these skills on a resume, and i haven't been able to put them to use for a while. i live in an apartment, there's no lawn for me to decorate. for years i've wanted to do an alice in wonderland theme, and have been collecting ideas like coins in a fountain. at other houses, i am transfixed by 12 foot skeletons and paper mache spooky lanterns; easily wooed by the knowledge of how much time people put in.

someone asked me once - so what was the point? and why didn't you guys charge anything to show up?

in truth, we probably needed the money. for years there, we were a 1-meal-a-day kind of a family. i was being polite earlier up in this essay: we furnished both our house and our halloweens using things left a recycling center. we live in new england and still didn't turn on the heat until the end of november, no matter how low the temperature.

every year we would collect donations for unicef and other charities. on an average year, we would collect enough to pay for our food for weeks. every year, without fail: we donated every penny.

this endeavor took months to plan and design and execute. we had to organize any volunteers and check safety and hope-for-the-best. it took at least 24 hours to set up, a week to take down. the motors and fans and lights all had to be packed tight. the cardboard would scatter, pangea in the rain and sleet. i remember picking up a plank from that pirate ship, the paint blown clear off, all my hard work completely erased. a new kind of driftwood.

if this was a poem, and not a memory, i could wrap this up prettily. i could say that these skills landed me a cool job in the haunting industry or that it taught me the value of friendship and responsibility. but i actually think it's something better, something very pretty: there wasn't ever a moral to it.

the night was a long one. yes, there were assholes, people who broke stuff. but mostly it was just kids like us in cardboard costumes, dressed as an incredibly niche kind of truck. good parents who were friendly and laughing. teenagers who slunk in at late hours, wide-eyed and secretly delighted; who asked us can i help next year? like, do y'all take volunteers, or whatever? every year more people came, and told their friends, and offered to pay. and every year we said maybe next year and meant absolutely never.

we did it because it was enough to love something, and to make that love visible. we did it because there is very rarely an excuse to have fun. i think maybe especially, for me - we did it because every year, there was one first "customer" somewhere around 3-4PM, while we were still putting on the final touches. the sun would still be up, and we were frazzled and always-running-late, and these kids saw our vision unfinished in the bright light of day.

something about their parents murmuring say thank you and telling my mom this setup is so sweet while this little kid would grin up at us, dazzled by our artistic mediocrity. the fall air and the chill and their coat-over-a-panda-princess-costume. that first phrase of the night awkwardly managed over a pair of overly-large vampire teeth: a beautiful and excited trick or treat!

[nikkeora]

High Enough (Without the Mary Jane)

summary; 'in every other universe, gwen stacy falls for spider-man. and in every other universe, it doesn’t end well'. you don't want to be a mary jane anymore.

or, in which you were the mindy s. mcpherson to miles's prowler

pairing(s); e-1610! Miles Morales x fem!reader, e-42! Miles Morales x fem!reader (r is referred to with she/her pronouns, no physical description.)

warning(s); fem spanish terms are used ('hermosa' etc.), reader’s hand is smaller than Miles’. author can’t write action sequences for shit.

may be ooc but we haven't seen a whole lot of p!miles yet so there isn’t really much to go off of

implied/mentioned parental issues with reader, not proofread, written (mostly) at ao3 hours

a/n; according to google the sinister 6 of e42 are doc oc, vulture, electro, rhino, sandman and scorpion, although i've seen some other ppl say that the eastereggs are vulture, rhino, scorpion, sandman, shocker, kraven and electro. i'm going w the google one, maybe kraven and shocker are their own thing. also they're prolly rich aholes since their signs are on buildings n stuff, so that's what i went with.

also reader was sent to earth 42, but like, a few days before 1610 miles arrives, kind of like how gwen was sent to 1610 a week before she found miles

Miles — or, who you assumed was Miles, anyway — took you back to his place, going out of his way to avoid alleys where there weren't many people around and sticking to the bigger streets. You found it kind of weird. Back home, you and Miles used to cut through backstreets and even some sketchy buildings all the time to make it home before curfew.

You felt him steal glances at you the whole walk, and you’d be lying if you didn’t do the same.

This version of him just felt so.. different.

Once the two of you reached your destination, he let you up the stairs first before quietly calling for you to stop once you reached his floor. You hesitated for a moment on the steps. It was a higher level than Miles’s flat back home, and the building had looked a lot different from what you’d seen just half an hour ago, even if it still felt familiar. You’d chalked it up to the multiverse doing multiverse things at first, but he was starting to act a little off.

Having been around your Miles for years, you knew all his tells. You could see how his weight shifted on his feet as he unlocked the door. You could see he was overall standing straighter and more tense. You could see the hesitation before he turned the key.

Miles was lying to you. And he felt guilty.

But what were you going to do?

This universe was new to you. Sure, everything seemed just about the same, but it was all so foreign at the same time. There where skyscrapers you’d never seen before, new graffiti on the streets of the same couple people over and over again - all of whom you were sure you’d seen somewhere before but couldn’t quite grasp where. The sight of buildings blocked by yellow tape and more in the process of repair after seemingly being burned down or blown up were common in this world, like it was an active war zone or something.

You really didn’t have a choice but to follow along.

He opened the door and waved you in, closing the door rather hastily after the both of you.

You took a glance around the room. There were metal bars on the windows, to keep people out or trap them in you couldn't quite figure. There was a DJ setup near them that looked awfully familiar. Hooks hung down from the unfinished ceiling, some holding chains and others oddly shaped items haphazardly wrapped with what looked like brown lunchbag paper. Wires and ventilation just about everywhere, most of the wires leading to either monitors or gadgets you assumed were in the progress of being built. An old, beat up couch and some gym gear by the wall, an open kitchen-slash-workshop area straight ahead.

The only source of light was the neon red from the signs outside the window, and even then the farther bits of the apartment remained a dark purple hue.

Then someone came out of the other room.

“What's this?”

The hell—?

From the shadows, Aaron Davis emerged.

His beard was more grown out then you'd ever seen, and his features looked sharper, almost rougher. His shoulders seemed more broad, though maybe that was the heavy jacket he wore making him look bigger than he actually was.

“¿Tío?”

Miles had taken you around to his uncle's a couple of times, which you now realized was why you recognized this place. Aaron raised an eyebrow at you, surprise flashing across his face before it was quickly wiped out. He looked over you, taling in your appearance.

“Miles.” He asked again.

“I dunno,” the boy replied, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets and avoiding his uncle's gaze. “Just found her on the way home.”

“Found her?”

Aaron glanced at you, then back to Miles, then back to you, his eyebrows furrowed in either confusion or frustration. He finally looked back at his nephew, the two of them having a silent conversation you couldn’t read.

“…Fine.” Aaron sighed, turning around—

You felt like you were dying, or being born, or possibly both at the same time. For a split second, you were nothing but particles, your skin and bones and just about everything being ripped apart then sewn back together. Your vision was a mix between TV static and rapid fire neon colors, and it was about the same deal with your hearing (which was concerning, since you couldn't usually hear colors).

Miles had taken a step forward, letting you grab his arms to keep you from falling over as he said something you couldn’t quite hear. Aaron had whipped around so fast you wondered how it didn’t give him whiplash, fists at the ready in case he needed them.

“What was that?” Miles’s voice finally got through to you, the high-pitched screaming in your ears dying down. You blinked at him as your mind went blank.

“I don’t—” You cut yourself off. Wait, was it..? Had you just..?

“Complete cellular decay.” You recalled Miles’s countless retellings of the multiversal mess that had happened just about two years ago. “I’m glitching, aren’t I?”

“Right, and you know this because..?” Aaron asked, his hands now at his sides but not eased yet. He eyed your face as if he was expecting you to grow a third eye or something. Honestly, you couldn’t blame him.

“Okay, so, this might sound crazy,” You started, “but I’m from another dimension.

“We had something like this happen back home a while back — except, y’know, people came into our dimension rather than people from ours going somewhere else.

“The people that came, they were glitching, too. Their atoms were displaced and decaying.”

“So you’re saying,” Miles spoke up, his grip tightening around your forearms just slightly. “If you stay here too long—”

“I’ll die, yeah.” You said, the reality of the situation hitting you like a KTX. “Disintegrate, to be more accurate.”

Silence filled the flat as all three of you processed the information. Miles was frozen, his gaze fixated on the spot where your hands grabbed onto him as if he was scared you’d disappear if he looked away. Aaron crossed his arms, his eyes darting from left to right like he was reading some invisible text.

As for you, you felt unreal. Your body didn’t feel like your own anymore, your vision more like looking at the screen of a first-person shooter. Were you going to die here? You didn’t want to die yet. What would your dad think? Would he file a police report? Would Miles’s dad send out a search party to look for you? And Miles—

You hadn’t even said goodbye to him at the party.

You hadn’t said goodbye to anyone.

I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die I don’t wanna die I don’t—

“Hey,” Miles says, his voice softer than earlier, snapping you out of your spiral. His hands slide down your forearms and slip into your own, giving them a firm squeeze. “No vas a morir.”

You’re not gonna die.

“Te llevaré a casa.” The boy said, his deep brown eyes bore into yours, slowly bringing you back from feeling like you’re looking at a video game to feeling more like you’re lucid dreaming. It wasn’t a total fix, but it’s a start. “I’ll get you home, I promise.”

You took a deep breath, trying and failing to ground yourself more.

“What’s five things you hear?” Miles asked gently, tilting his head and leaning ever so slightly closer to you. You just blinked, overwhelmed with everything.

“Mi vida,” he said again. “Five things.”

You paused for a moment.

Sirens outside.

Yelling from the streets.

Chains clinking in the breeze from the open window.

Aaron shuffling around in the other room. When had he left?

The buzzing of the lights overhead.

“Good.” Miles said encouragingly. “Now, four things you see.”

Miles.

A pan on the kitchen stove.

The DJ table by the windows.

Tio Aaron pulling out the couch to make a sofa bed.

“Three things you can touch here.”

Miles.

The ground if you bent down, you guessed.

Some trinkets on the table just over there, but you’re not gonna touch that.

“Two you can smell?”

Rusted metal. There’s tons of it around; on the walls, the ceiling, tables, even on the shelves. What was that chest plate doing back there, anyway?

That pool smell, which is kinda gross since it came from the chlorine in pool water mixed with all the gross stuff that came from human bodies.

Miles smiled as you said that. “Vuelves a mí, mi sol.” He squeezed your hands again. “One thing you can taste.”

“I dunno, soda? We had a ton of it at the party.” You wiggled your fingers. It was like you were stepping into your body for the first time — nothing was a perfect fit just yet, like a pair of knitted gloves with too much room at the ends of the fingers. You’d have to get used to it again.

It’s then that Aaron called Miles over, the boy reluctantly leaving your side and following his uncle to the other room. He told you to make yourself comfortable on the couch before he went, though, so that’s exactly what you did. The spring cushions feel oddly comforting under you, the familiarity of home twisted just slightly out of proportion.

There’s really nothing to do alone here. You tapped your fingers on your leg. Thankfully, Miles and Aaron came back after just a few minutes.

The first thing the boy said to you, “I’m gonna get you home.” A firmer, more certain repetition of his promise from a minute ago, albeit there’s a bit of a strain in his voice as if it physically hurt him to say it. In a clumsy yet swift motion, he quickly leaned down and kissed your cheek before making his exit rather hurriedly.

You felt the heat rush to your face, your hand coming up almost immediately to touch the spot.

Aaron chuckled and shook his head.

“So,” he said. “You as smart as she was, too?”

-

You tinkered with the gauntlet of a prototype suit that Aaron had dug out of storage somewhere, the man himself working on the main body. The helmet — or was it more of a mask? It was a bit bulkier than Miles's Spider-Man mask, a bit more tech-y. Probably more similar to an Iron Man helmet, now that you think about it, albeit lower in its level of advancement — was plugged into one of the many monitors strewn about the flat.

You'd managed to pry a couple bits of information out of him for the past few hours (during which you hadn't glitched again, thankfully) in exchange for some of your own. So far you knew that this universe’s Jefferson Morales had passed away a few years ago, prompting Miles to take on the mantle of the Prowler to avenge his father’s death — the details of which he stayed frustratingly vague on — and, later on, to keep the city as safe as he could.

“Wait, wait, who’s your Spider-Man, then?”

“Who’s Spider-Man?”

You blinked in confusion. “What? You don’t have a Spider-Person?”

“What, like, a part-spider guy? Nah. Scorpion’s mostly bug though, that count?”

This dimension didn’t have a Spider-Man. That was why the city was so overrun with bad guys.

You gave him a general rundown of the whole ‘radioactive spider’ thing and moved on.

Your own variant, who was Miles’s best friend and had helped make a lot of his gear, had disappeared a while after the Prowler started taking out some bad guys that were a step above villain-of-the-week, the ones who had all sorts of shady connections. Hearing about your presumed death was a strange experience.

“We know they took her,” The older man had said, jamming his screwdriver into a faulty part of the suit. “But the cops are all in on it ever since the Cartel bought ‘em out. Declared her dead after less than 24 hours.”

Oh, speaking of, apparently there was a team of villains bringing Gotham to life in New York, Brooklyn being the heart of it all. How fun.

The Sinister Six Cartel, as the Bugel had dubbed them, was the one Aaron and Miles believed to be behind your variant’s disappearance. The two were certain that the Cartel had worked out a connection between you and the Prowler. The nail on the coffin was when they sent a body double of you in the Prowler’s direction to mess with his head just a couple months ago, complete with some sort of Face Off style mask that made it possible for the fake to look exactly like you. It was only a day or two before Miles figured out it was a setup, but it had shaken him up pretty bad.

“I thought you were another one.” He’d admitted. “But then you did the whole glitchy thing. Looked horrible, by the way, real nasty. It hurt much?”

“You have no idea.”

In return, you told him about home. You told him how Miles’s dad was up for a promotion, practically Captain already. You told him about your Miles’s art and how he made a mural of him after his death. You didn’t go into too much detail about the ‘death’ part, focusing more on the peaceful aspects since it was so clearly missing from his every day life. You couldn’t really read this Aaron Davis that well since he was more guarded than he had been back home, but you could tell he appreciated it; especially the parts about his brother.

You also told him how Miles and the other Spider-People who were sent to your dimension had worked out a solution to fix their situation, and gave him a brief summary of the whole ordeal, the details of which he texted Miles since he hadn’t given you a chance to tell him about it when he left so hastily. He said something you couldn’t quite make out as he did — you caught the words ‘lab’ and ‘property’, but that was pretty much it. He only waved it off as nothing when you asked him about it.

“How’s my dad?” You asked, pushing your hand into the gauntlet to test if it worked right. It was a near perfect fit, which made you wonder who exactly it was for, since Miles’s hand was bigger than yours. “Is he doing okay? After the whole ‘declared dead’ thing?”

“He’s holding up, just like the rest of us,” Aaron replied, checking on the monitor. “Your mom — her mom’s been sticking around. Grief brings people together and all that. They’re trying therapy.”

A weird feeling bubbled up inside. While it was good to know at least one version of your parents were trying to reconcile, it bothered you that your absence had prompted it. Was that what was happening right now back home? Had your disappearance magically brought your parents back together? Had it even been long enough for that to happen, or did time flow equally throughout the multiverse?

…

Would it be better for them if you just didn’t go back at all?

“Oh.” You said, nodding slightly as you flexed and wiggled your fingers in the gauntlet, watching the way it moved. It was a lot thinner than the claws that adorned the Prowler’s hands from what you’d spotted here and there in the flat, built to be stealthier in the way it functioned. There were no clunks or clinks, just soft whirring noises that sounded almost like a cat’s purr. “That’s good, I guess.”

It was worse this time around, which you didn’t even know was possible. You felt yourself being split in a billion different directions, parts of you re-atomizing not quite in the right places. You’d never known the feeling of having space between where all your joints were supposed to connect, but now you did, and it honestly made you want to die. Not really. Well…

-

Miles came back sometime before dawn. You heard the door opening slowly, almost like he was trying not to wake his parents up as he was sneaking in past curfew. Not that he used the door ever since he could climb walls, but still.

He crept into his uncle’s flat, even leaving his shoes at the door so he wouldn’t make too much noise. He was making his way to the other room when he looked at you on the couch, only to flinch in surprise when he saw your eyes were open.

“¿Qué haces despierto?” He whispered, his shoulders tenser than earlier from the split second of adrenaline. “It’s late.”

“What are you doing that you have to sneak in?” You whispered back. The boy just shrugged.

“Oh, you know…” He trailed off, looking around to avoid your questioning gaze. “…Stuff.”

You rolled your eyes. “That has gotta be the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard.”

Miles huffed, shuffling over to you and sitting down on the floor in front of the couch, facing you. “Yeah, well, I asked you first. Why’re you up, hermosa?”

You sighed. “Can’t sleep.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, I don’t know, the thought of my impending doom, maybe.”

A couple beats passed by without a word from either of you, a bit of awkwardness hanging in the air, though it was accompanied by a familiar sense of comfort.

“Do you trust me?” Miles asked, his hand reaching out to gently grab a corner of the blanket draped over you.

“Probably.” You replied. You hadn’t known him long enough to trust him just yet, as much as you wanted to. The corners of his lips tilted up just a bit in an almost smile.

“Then trust that I’ll do whatever it takes to get you home.” He said. “I already lost you once, I’m not letting that happen again.”

-

The next day was pretty uneventful. For the most part, anyway, if you don’t count the random glitching throughout. You were advised heavily against going outside since the Cartel had eyes everywhere, so your area of activity was limited to the flat. Miles had evidently snuck back out after your little talk the night before, which made you feel a tinge disappointed since you wanted to get to know him better. Fortunately, Aaron said you could help with the suit again.

The TV played in the background as you tapped on the keyboard, giving the helmet a few final touch-ups as the sun set outside the window. J. Jonah Jameson jabbered on about this week’s biggest disasters and lamented about how ‘if only there was a hero to save this city’, which made you snort.

“He’s gonna switch up real quick if a hero does show up,” You remarked to Aaron, who looked at you questioningly. “The guy hates Spider-Man back home.”

“What, Jameson?” He said, raising an eyebrow. “Nah, he’s the biggest Captain America fanboy out there. Loves heroes an’ all that.”

He thought for a moment. “Pretty sure Miles saw him at Comicon that one time too.”

“What’s a Comicon?”

Unfortunately, you never got the answer as you heard the lock on the door slide open. You spun around in your chair to greet Miles as you knew he was supposed to be coming by sometime in the evening, but your friendly smile quickly faded as his expression turned to one of shock, catching a glimpse of what the two of you were working on.

The boy froze as he stared, wide-eyed, at the suit. “Tio,” He said, looking at Aaron as he clenched his jaw. “What’s that doing out?”

“She needs a suit.” The older man answered simply.

“What?” Both you and Miles asked, though you could tell it was for vastly different reasons.

“We need to get into Alchemax to get her home, and we can’t do that unless she has protection.”

“Which is why I came here to make a plan!” Miles shouted, his hands moving animatedly, the way your Miles's always did when he got upset. “Eso, eso no le pertenece. ¡No es para ella!”

They had a back and forth as the pieces came together as to why Miles was so upset.

The suit was supposed to be for you.

His you.

You were, essentially, fixing up a dead girl's clothes to wear.

“The Cartel isn't stupid, Miles,” Aaron tried to make the boy see his point. “Even if we somehow made a distraction big enough for the big ones to leave base, there's still gonna be someone left to guard it. Would you be able to live with yourself if she got hurt? Or worse—”

“Don't.” Miles's nails dug into his palms, leaving dark cresent moons in their wake. Aaron sighed.

“If she got hurt, you'd feel like that's on you. If you got hurt protecting her 'cause she doesn't have anything to protect herelf with, then I'd feel like that's on me.” He said, his features softening as he reasoned with his nephew. “This is the best bet.”

“We could build her a new suit—”

“And take what? Couple days? A week? Two weeks?”

He glanced at you, Miles following his gaze towards you as well. You knew what was implied. The only people you knew this happened to had gone maybe over a week before the glitching became a real problem, and they were superhuman. Who knew how long you had?

“She can wear mine. We have a ton of old ones, I'll just take one of those—”

“I'm not gonna let you get hurt for her, kid.”

“Don't call me that.”

They went back and forth for a while, and eventually Miles went to the other room to cool off and think things through. Aaron sighed, wiping a hand across his face.

“No offense.” He said to you.

“None taken.” You replied, not really knowing what to do. It felt wrong for you to be tinkering with something that was so clearly not meant for you, even if it was for a variant of yourself.

You could hear Miles pacing the other room, muttering to himself.

“Maybe I could...” You trailed off.

“You could try talking him into it,” He suggested. “He'll listen to you more than me right now.”

“...Should I, though?” You couldn't even begin to imagine what Miles was feeling. All this multiverse shit was too damn complicated.

“Look, kid, I know it's weird.” Aaron said, shoulders sagging just a bit. “But this—” he pointed to the suit— “is the best way to make sure no one gets hurt. Trust me.”

There was something he wasn't telling you, but he didn't have to for you to know what it was. Miles thought you were alive, somewhere out there. You knew it was entirely possible that he blamed himself for your disappearance, as it was your own version of him's go-to for anything and everything that went wrong. The shadows under his eyes, that look whenever he saw you... you wondered how many nights he'd spent outside, looking for some trace of you, a new lead to follow. Especially since your arrival.

Aaron thought this was the best chance Miles would ever get to let go of you. To get some sort of closure by sending you home.

“…I'll try.” You finally agreed, getting up from your seat and shuffling to the other room. You hesitated before going in, but the lack of a door made it awkward to linger, so you just bit the bullet and walked inside.

The room in question was more of a faux-veranda (which explained the no-door thing); a long, narrow space separated from the main living area by a sheet of drywall, with one of the wider walls filled with shelves of CDs and albums and the other decorated sparingly with old band and movie posters along with Miles-brand stickers.

“So...” You said, fiddling with your hands as you took a look around the area. You gestured at one of the stickers on the wall. “Did you make that?”

Slowing to a stop to face you, Miles nodded, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket.

“Cool.”

You both stood there in silence for a moment, you working out what to say and Miles trying to come up with some other solution to the problem. The boy had an unhealthy obsession, that much he knew, but he just couldn't bring himself to let go of it. Not when you could be out there, just waiting for him to find you.

“I don't want to push you,” You started hesitantly. “But.. I think your tìo may be right.”

“I know that.” He looked at his feet as if the dirt on his shoes was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world, the sight of him reminisent of a little kid getting scolded by his mother. “I know that.”

“I can't say I understand.. whatever's going through your head right now,” You said, taking a step towards him. “But he just wants what's best for you.”

“What's best for me is finding—” He cut himself off when his eyes met yours, frustration and confusion and stubbornness and sadness and who knows what else all mixing into a big mish-mash of conflicting thoughts inside of him. He clenched his fists, tilting his head up as he tried to think clearly. To his dismay, his throat closed up, the familiar sting of tears pricking at his eyes.

“I need to find her.” He muttered, putting a hand over his eyes in an attempt to stop his tears from falling. It didn't work. “I need to find you.”

“And you will.” You were sure of it. Aaron and Miles were both so sure that their you was alive... she had to be. “But right now? Right now, I need you to help me out.”

He looked at you, his gaze almost spaced out for a moment. You wondered if he saw her in you — if she had the same haircut, the same eyes, the same accent...

You could tell he was frustrated by the way that the scrunch above his nose wouldn’t go away. Hesitantly, you reached out, wiping away the tracks stray tears had left on his cheeks. He stiffened for a moment.

“...Fine.” He finally muttered, a hand coming up to grab your arm, though he seemed unsure if he wanted to push it away or pull it closer. So he just held it in place, his thumb brushing over the inside of your wrist, the edge of your palm. His posture relaxed, just a bit. “Okay.”

-

Two days later, it wasn't too dark when the plan set into action.

Security at Alchemax — once belonging to Kingpin, now in posession of the Sinister Six Cartel — was thinnest sometime around six to seven pm, when dinner breaks, shift changes and the checkout of regular scientists were prominent.

Miles and Aaron had each set up time bombs at multiple smaller warehouses the Cartel used for storage, each coordinated to go off within minutes of each other. With little to no heroes or police in the way, the Cartel had no reason to keep their lesser important stocks well-guarded, which made it easy to sneak explosives into some of the shipments, support beams and pipes.

Once the explosions were set off, Aaron would use some rip-off Mysterio tech to make projections of some new vigilante gang, with each fake member leading the forces of the Cartel away from Alchemax. During this went on, Miles would sneak you in and to the Super Collider (which, surprisingly, had not been scrapped since its change of ownership) through the vents—

“Wait, wait, isn’t there like, a tunnel that can get us directly to the Collider?” You’d asked, remembering what Miles had told you when he first told you how he became Spider-Man.

“It got sealed off.” Aaron had said. “Some sort of supercharged electromagnetic thing. They did that with all the major underground entry points. Can’t shut it off without blacking out half of Brooklyn.”

“Or getting fried.” Miles had said. “The generators powering each point are all hooked up together a single system, como una mente colmena. You attack one of ‘em directly, all the others shoot a billion bolts of energy into you. And we don’t have time to hack into and get past the firewall to shut the thing down.”

—which you would navigate by memorizing a blueprint of Alchemax that had been conveniently leaked in a mass Cartel server leak a couple months ago. Miles would then plug in the goober he, Aaron and you had made using information gathered via Aaron's 'friends', and send you home.

It was a simple mission. Maybe a bit too simple, but you didn't really have much a choice when you were on a time crunch with limited information. Besides, Occam's razor.

“Copy?” Aaron's voice asked from your earpiece.

“Copy.” You answered, followed by Miles from his own communicator.

“A-6 is a go in 3.. 2...”

Boom.

A couple blocks away, a cloud of dust shot into the air. The building you and Miles were on the roof of shivered slightly as storage unit A-6 blew up.

“A-27.”

Boom.

“C-15.”

Boom.

From your vantage point, you had a clear view of what was going on at Alchemax without the risk of anyone down there catching a glimpse of you. You could see the non-combat scientists scrambling to get to their cars and the armed guards being led by weirdly dressed villains in the direction of the explosions. Although you supposed you weren't quite qualified to comment on the 'weirdly dressed' part at the moment, since you and Miles weren't much better in your respective suits.

Speaking of, Miles hadn't talked much ever since he first saw you wearing the suit. His responses were short if he even gave one, although you could feel him sneaking glances at you when he thought you weren't looking.

Miles fixed the gauntlet on his hand one last time before shuffling closer to you. “Ready?”

His voice sounded strange to you, his actual voice coming through your earpiece overlapping with the voice coming through his modulator.

“Mhm.”

“Going in.”

You hooked your arms around his shoulders and his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you tight as a grapple shot out of his gauntlet. He used it almost exactly like how Miles used his webshooters, although his actions were a bit more... forceful? Rougher around the edges, if that made sense.

As your feet left solid concrete, the city sped by underneath the both of you, a pretty blend of neon and gray. Your suit prevented you from actually feeling the air whipping by, but a fraction of the wind managed to seep through the cracks, sending a chill down your spine as your stomach dropped at the sudden decline.

For a moment, gravity seemed to disappear. The laws of physics no longer felt like they effected you in any meaningful way. Anything and everything that had been weighing down on you — this whole situation, Miles, demanding schoolwork at Visions, your parents and their myriad of problems — no longer held you down.

It was exhilarating.

Your 'flight', so to speak, was over almost as soon as it started. You tucked your legs as you reached the roof of the Alchemax building, separating from Miles and rolling to lessen the impact. Surprisingly, the move came quite naturally to you, even without practice. You chalked it off as something you'd learned when you were a toddler, when your mom used to sign you up for all sorts of extracurriculars. You were pretty sure martial arts or something had been one of them; maybe you'd learned it there.

Your heart pounded as the sudden rush of adrenaline faded away, and you found yourself wishing it didn't. The thrill was addicting, as was the freedom that came with it. It was like a rollercoaster, or watching How to Train Your Dragon in 4D for the first time, only a hundred times better.

Miles had never taken you swinging. He'd never exactly told you why, always brushing off your request with something like a 'maybe later' or 'I can't right now', but you knew why.

Swinging together was a him and Gwen thing.

And you were fine with that.

What, like you were gonna be jealous about something as small as that? Pfft. No way. Nope. Nada.

“¿Estás bien?” Miles asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. You nodded in confirmation.

The two of you pried open a vent using the gloves of your suit, which was easier than you’d expected it to be. To your surprise, the claws that extended from them were very useful.

“We’re in.” You muttered as you crawled into the duct, hoping Aaron wasn’t having any trouble on his end. He’d been awful quiet… Then again, no news is good news on a mission, right?

Miles crawled in after you. “You remember the way?”

“Yeah.”

Together you made your way to the underground levels of the building, miraculously avoiding any possible dead ends or mouse traps. That musty smell of mold and concrete reached your senses as you reached the deeper parts.

There weren’t many people at the Super Collider, thanks to the diversion and timing. Miles gestured for you to stay put as he swiftly dropped out of the vents, knocking out the few guards there one by one with relative ease. It was strange seeing him fight; so similar to yet completely different from him. You were doing as told and observing from the vents until you saw one of the last three people — a scientist, by the looks of it — sneaking up on Miles from behind while he was preoccupied with the two other guards.

You quickly dropped down from your spot, landing behind the guard and catching him by surprise as he whirled around with his weird-techy-science gun. Dropping to the ground, you swept your leg under his, toppling him over and knocking the weapon out of his hands. You were about to knock him out when—

“Peter Parker?”

Are you kidding me?

You were certain it was him. This Peter was scrawnier, his hair more sandy blond than Peter Parker’s back home (before he passed, anyway), and he wore thick, black-rimmed glasses that perched awkwardly on his slightly crooked nose. But the ID that read ‘Peter Parker’ in big bold letters around his neck was a pretty solid indicator.

“…Yes?” He almost squeaked out.

Meanwhile, Miles had dealt with the two guards, stepping over them to get to the console. “Sácalo y entra ahí.” He called, fumbling a little as he tried to figure out which buttons to push to fire up the Collider.

“We have a bit of a situation..” You said, pulling Peter up by his arm and dragging him to the console as well.

You gave him a hushed explanation of your unwillingness to hurt the guy, and how you believed he was genuinely a good person. After all, this universe was almost the same as yours, right? Peter Parker couldn’t be that different here…

“And besides, he probably knows how to work this thing. It’d be helpful.”

Miles sighed. “…Fine, I won’t knock him out,” He agreed. Turning to Peter, he asked, “How do you start the Collider?”

Peter gulped, everything in his body language screaming ‘I want to run away’. “You- you need codes,” He stammered out. “Approval codes, from—”

“Don’t care.” Miles cut him off, giving him a brief glance at the goober. “Just start it. ¿Lo pilla?”

Peter nodded hastily and got to work, pressing buttons and switching levers as you made your way down to the Super Collider. There was a catwalk that ran from one side of the machine to the other, connecting the two mechanisms. If you got to the middle of it, you could jump off and into the portal once the Collider was at full output. Sure enough, its huge metal plates clinked and clattered as they slowly sprung to life.

This was it. You were finally going home.

Just then, you heard a thunk along with some choice words in Spanish, and looked over to the source to see Peter out cold on the ground.

“He got to the panic button!” Miles said, scowling to himself as he plugged in the goober, praying that this plan would work out in the next minute or so. Bubble-like particles appeared at the two points of the machine that faced each other, the noise it emitted now making it so that you could only properly make out what Miles was saying through your earpiece.

The Collider whirred and sputtered as the bubbles grew bigger and brighter, eventually bursting into two beams of light that met each other in the middle, creating one big sphere with a bunch of little bubbles going in and out of it and surrounding it. The sphere grew larger and larger until it collapsed in on itself, sprouting thin, curvy lines.

The thing grew bigger and bigger until it was about the size of a person, you could feel it starting to pull you in. You just had to wait for Miles’s go ahead—

Ow.

What the hell?

You were suddenly sprawled on the ground, something having tackled you at what felt like a hundred miles an hour. That something — or rather, someone — skid to a halt just a few feet away from you, dragging a hand across the tiled floor and leaving… scratch marks?

Scrambling to your feet, you crouched in a defensive stance as you looked over the newcomer.

There wasn’t a single inch of skin showing, their suit covering the whole of their person. The suit in question was mostly white, with some gray sprinkled in here and there. It reminded you of Eve from Wall-E or a Stormtrooper, maybe a mix of both. Strangely enough, the mask was just a blank slate; a sleek, white panel with no features or details, kind of like one of those LED face masks.

Overall it was kind of… boring? It didn’t inspire fear nor did it seem very imposing or something of the sort, which you’d think would be a priority for a villain organization. If anything it was bland, the only thing that stood out from the suit being its hands which donned gauntlets that looked similar to yours, but slimmer and more polished, more accurately described as gloves rather than gauntlets. They had claws just like yours, albeit they looked sharper, a bit more gnarled.

“Miles?” You called, your heartbeat quickening. “What’s going on?”

You heard a grunt from his end. You didn’t look to see what was happening, not daring to take your eyes off of your attacker, but you guessed that backup from Peter’s panic signal had arrived.

“What’s going on?” Aaron echoed, his voice slightly fuzzy. Before you could answer, your attacker lunged. You managed to doge a full on body slam, but they grabbed your arm instead, using it to flip you over their body and knocking the wind out of you.

You writhed as you hit the ground, managing to rip your arm out of their grasp and landing a kick on their ankle, causing them to stumble. You took the opportunity to get up and put some distance between the two of you, though you didn’t get far before the lunatic started chasing you. They jumped at you again but you turned around at the last second, and as you were pushed back with their claws digging into your shoulders you kicked both of your legs out into their stomach just as your back hit the ground, sending them straight over your head.

“Tìo, get your nephew, now!” You shouted, rolling away just in time to avoid a punch that landed on the floor where your head had been just a second ago. “It all went to shit, get him out!”

The pull from the Collider was getting stronger, tiny scraps like bolts and papers flying through the air and towards the beam of light. You raced back to the catwalk but were once again stopped by the 29th century Stormtrooper. You yelped as you felt something grab the back of your neck, sharp claws piercing through your suit and digging into your skin as your head was thrown harshly against a metal beam.

And just like that, you were on the ground. Again. What was this, like, the third time? Fourth? Great. Just fantastic.

I’m not even supposed to be here, you thought, grabbing at your opponent’s wrists as their hands wrapped around your neck, slowly choking you. They were stronger than you were, faster, clearly more skilled. What were you thinking? You’re not a fighter — you couldn’t beat them, not like this.

Why was the universe so intent on making you miserable? You were just trying to get home, maybe not die. Not dying would be nice. But no. You couldn’t have nice things, could you? Not your own life, not Miles, your own damn parents were happier in a reality where you weren’t in the picture—

A sudden surge of anger made you lash out. The universe could go fuck itself. You weren’t dying like this. Not when your ticket home was right in front of you.

Your gauntlet caught your attacker’s mask, knocking it off.

You knew that face.

It was the same face that looked back at you every time you looked at a mirror.

Well, not exactly, you supposed. There was a certain roughness in her features, the same as how Miles looked different from Miles. But you’d know those eyes anywhere. But they were… what’s the word, fuzzy? Unfocused? It was like her body was on autopilot while her brain was off in Hawaii or something.

The thing you did next could’ve won you the prize for ‘smartest dumb decision of the year’.

In all your oxygen-deprivated brilliance, you retracted your mask.

It might shake her, was your reasoning. It would confuse anyone to see a doppelgänger in a fight.

Or, you know, it could go totally wrong and she could punch your face in. But you were already getting choked, so, what was there to lose?

And it worked.

Her eyes shifted back into focus as her grip slackened, and you quickly shoved her — or is it you? yourself? — off, gasping for air. You could vaguely make out the outline of a giant scorpion-guy going one-on-one with Miles, who seemed to be holding out pretty well. He was favoring his left hand though, when usually he used his right.

“I— wha—? Where—” You heard from your left. Your alternate universe counterpart looked around the lab, her eyes wide and movements jerky like a wild animal on drugs.

You were about to say something when a loud buzzing came through your comm, which had evidently been damaged in the whole head-beam connection thing. Miles’s voice came through in broken pieces.

“Col— get..t— ov-rload—”

The Collider. The goober could only force an incomplete system to run for so long. Your time was up.

Wonderful.

A flash of blinding light came from the machine as it malfunctioned. The goober could only make an incomplete system work for so long. You were just able to get your helmet back on before everyone in the vicinity was pushed back in an explosion. Was that Aaron—?

After your temporary blindness wore off, you made out the aftermath, a high-pitched ringing in your ear as you dazedly looked around. The glass that separated the control area from the Collider had been shattered, the Scorpion twitching as he tried to get to his feet — did he have feet? Now’s really not the time — There was no sign of Miles or Aaron anywhere, which was either very good or very bad. You decided to believe it was the former for your own sake. A short distance away from you was another you, that one unconscious but still breathing, from the looks of it.

Grabbing your variant, you ripped open a vent on the wall before the Scorpion could take notice of either of you, shoving her in before following suit and placing the vent cover back on. You had to get out of here. Fast.