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pathologicalreid · 4 months ago

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Hello, love your writing, can i request a oneshot for spencer Reid x wife!reader with the plot of the movie taken where she goes on a business trip or something and she gets taken and the team have to work against the clock to get her back. Had this idea for so long and thought you would be perfect to write it. Perfectly fine if you dont but im craving this story.

leave a message after the beep | S.R.

When you go missing under suspicious circumstances on a business trip, the BAU goes to Texas - and ends up in the middle of something bigger than anticipated.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: kidnapping, blood, guns, reader almost kills someone, hospitals, the securities and exchange commission, typical cm violence, texas, takes place maybe circa season 7 word count: 4.03k a/n: okay anon so like yes i can write this but also i've never seen the movie taken so really i took your request and made it my own! i hope you like it either way!

Tuesday, 2:17 p.m.

“Hey, Spence, it’s me. Shame I got your voicemail, but I just landed at Dallas Fort Worth and I’m waiting for my ride to take me to meet the regional officers. Not sure if you’re traveling, but uh, call me when you get this, I guess. Or when you can. Hopefully, this trip goes better than I think it’s going to… oh, I think my ride is here.”

Tuesday, 6:42 p.m.

“Hey babe, so, the first meeting went fine, they don’t seem very receptive, but people generally aren’t when I’m sent in to change their methods. Wish you’d pick up your phone. Anyway, I’m on my way to the hotel now, I’ll probably try you again before I go to bed. I know my updates are probably riveting.”

Tuesday, 8:09 p.m.

“Well, I’ve definitely stayed in nicer hotels than this one, but I guess I can’t complain about being put up for free. I’m probably just biased because the a/c unit is busted – oh, my room number is 316, I know you like to have it. I opened the windows to let air in but it’s so dry here that I’m not sure it’s helping any. I’ll shut them before I go to sleep, so don’t worry about that. Call me back, I miss you, don’t worry about waking me up. I think that’s all I’ve got, goodnight, I love you!”

There was a collective sigh in the roundtable room, five agents around the room all looked nervously at each other. No one wanted to be the first person to speak. No one wanted to be the first to propose a theory. “Where’s Spencer?” Emily asked, looking through the voicemail transcripts that were splayed out in front of her.

“In Hotch’s office, they’re talking,” Rossi said, eyeing the photo of you that was being projected up on the screen. Most of the time, Penelope just used driver’s license or passport photos in files, but for you, she had chosen a photo from the last BAU O’Keefe’s outing. Your skin was flushed and there was an odd shadow being cast on your face, but your smile was unmistakable.

The official files would have your driver’s license photo, but that picture was for the BAU. Seemingly unable to peel her eyes off of the screen, JJ asked the question that everyone was sitting on, “We’re on this case, right?”

It felt ridiculous, one of their own had gone missing in the middle of the night and they weren’t even sure if they had the jurisdiction to look into it. When no one answered, Morgan looked around the room, “The brass isn’t seriously going to try to tell us not to investigate.”

“No, they’re not,” Hotch said, suit jacket unbuttoned and fluttering behind him as he walked into the roundtable room with purpose. “We’ll debrief more on the plane, JJ and Garcia will stay here, the rest of us are headed to Dallas,” he instructed, nodding at everyone before turning around and walking out the door, the rest of the team following like ducks in a row.

On the jet, the traveling members of the team watched as Rossi held a cup of coffee out for Spencer to take, but the team's youngest member took a moment to even recognize that it was there, “Oh,” he mumbled, “thank you.” Blinking a haze from his eyes, he took the cup in his shaky hands.

A familiar concern flowed among Spencer’s teammates, they all watched as he twisted his wedding ring around his finger – a nervous habit that usually presented itself when he missed you. “Y/N’s boss is en route to Quantico to talk with JJ, the flight’s about three hours, we should get started,” Hotch was the one to speak up, herding the sheep in the correct direction while everything felt aimless.

With his legs tucked beneath himself, Spencer watched the team as they bounced back and forth in a discussion on what you were doing in Dallas and Penelope scoured through your recent communication.

“According to the voicemails and the hotel records, her room was on the third floor,” Emily spoke up, flipping through the file in front of her. “Do we have crime scene photos from the hotel room yet?”

On the video screen, Penelope shook her head, “CSI is still processing the scene, I have an inquiry in with them to send the photos as soon as they can.”

Checking his watch, Hotch looked over at Spencer, still sequestered on one side of the jet, “Make sure they keep the scene undisturbed for when we arrive. Dave and Morgan will meet with the sheriff at the hotel, and the rest of us will head to the precinct to set up.”

If Spencer wanted to be the one to investigate the crime scene, he didn’t protest his assignment, he just continued to spin that gold band on his finger. He didn’t notice the glances exchanged between the rest of his team; he could only think of you.

With the involvement of the BAU, the team had been redirected to the Dallas Field Office. “There was a hole torn in the window screen, the crime scene techs think that’s how they got inside,” Morgan announced to the team, they were all gathering in the conference room.

“On the third floor?” JJ questioned over video chat, she and Penelope sat right next to each other on the screen.

Rossi nodded, “We must be looking at a team. At least two, likely three UnSub’s in order to pull something like this off. They cut the camera feed and broke into the hotel room where she was staying – this was premeditated.”

It wasn’t difficult to deduce that being taken from the third floor of a hotel meant that you had been a target, but the evidence of a break-in settled like a boulder on Spencer’s chest. Someone had intended to take you. Someone had intended on grabbing you from your hotel room in the middle of the night – and they had succeeded.

“Is there any chance she forgot to close the windows when she went to sleep last night?” Emily looked over at Spencer, dark brows raised quizzically as she leaned over the table, skimming through the voicemail transcripts again.

Clenching his jaw, Spencer shook his head, recalling your promise to close the windows before the end of the night. “No, she’d never forget. She knows I worry,” although, after this, you’d never be able to chide him for worrying too much ever again. Sharing a knowing look with the brunette before him, “So, she’s been missing since last night, not this morning.”

The initial assumption had been that you’d disappeared at some point early in the morning, maybe on your way to your first meeting of the day, no one was entirely sure, but this confirmed that you had been missing for at least eight hours more than the first estimate.

A knock on the door garnered the attention of the team, each of them turning to see a field agent, “Uh, Ezra Buchmann is here to speak with you, he said he got a call from your tech girl.”

Hotch nodded succinctly, “That’s the co-worker who reported the case. Morgan, go see if he needs anything. Dave, let’s go check out the office building that Y/N had been working at.”

“Do you think she might’ve been caught up in something at work?” Spencer asked, following his team members with his eyes as they left the conference room.

The unit chief didn’t provide a forward answer, “I’d like to start checking off some possibilities. It’s been fourteen hours with no firm leads.” It wasn’t as optimistic as anyone had hoped, but Hotch shared a look with Emily before leaving the room.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Spencer turned to the evidence board, looking at the pictures of your hotel room, the water splashed around the rim of the bathroom sink, your phone charging on the bedside table, your wedding ring resting on the counter, and if he separated himself from the missing posters, he could almost convince himself that they were just random pictures. Almost.

Frowning at the blown-up images of partial fingerprints and a random CCTV shot from across the street, he recalled your voicemails. “I wasn’t busy,” he confessed to Emily. “When she called me, I wasn’t busy. I was doing other things, but I wasn’t too busy to answer the phone. I assumed that I’d have the chance to talk to her today,” he said, slightly leaning over the oak table, resting his fingerprints on the varnished surface in an attempt to keep himself standing.

Pursing her lips, Emily took a member for responding, “That’s not an outrageous assumption to make,” she tried to reason with a miserable man. “You’d never think something like this would happen.”

“Until it does,” Spencer continued. “We see it happen to people all the time, we’ve made a life of it, but I never thought it would happen to me. To her,” he maundered. If he had a dollar for every time he had heard the same sentiment from victim’s families, he’d never have to work another day in his life. “I did call her back when I got home last night,” he added, though, he wasn’t entirely sure who he was trying to reassure.

In an effort to comfort him, Emily reached out and patted his arm, “We will find her, Spencer.”

Dead or alive? He wanted to retort, but he bit his tongue, holding it in.

As a favor to him, in the hopes of providing him with some emotional respite, Emily had haggled with the field agent whose name was last on the chain of custody of your belongings. It wasn’t entirely proper for evidence to be released to family, but she offered to put her name on it in the interim.

She stayed with Spencer in the conference room, letting him keep your things nearby as she spoke with JJ and went through the information that had been acquired back at Quantico. The team now had your performance reviews at work and, according to JJ, your boss couldn’t say enough good things about you. While it was nice to hear, it didn’t bring them any closer to finding where you were.

Tracing the woodgrain of the table with his fingertips, Spencer eventually tuned the phone call out, instead wondering at what point he was obligated to call your parents. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice your phone was ringing in the evidence bag before him until Prentiss tapped him on the shoulder.

It was an unknown number, but that was a barrier easily blocked by Garcia with a quick search. The rest of the team watched as she blanched on the screen, “Uh, you might want to answer that.”

“Garcia, who is it?” Hotch asked, a hardened look on his face as he looked from the screen to the buzzing cellphone.

JJ frowned at Penelope’s monitor as if she couldn’t believe what she was reading, “It’s the SEC,” she responded.

Swiftly, Hotch answered the phone call, turning on speakerphone so the rest of the team could hear, “Hello.”

“Hello, may I speak with Mrs. Reid?” A male voice came through the receiver, everyone sharing the same wary look.

Focused on the phone call, Hotch shook his head, “This is Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, you can speak with me.” He said, elaborating on the situation and rendering the SEC investigator speechless.

Unable to listen to the conversation any longer, Spencer got up, minding his movements as he walked out of the conference room. He checked the map of the building that was posted on the wall before walking up the stairs, making his way up to the roof of the building.

The dry heat of Dallas was about as miserable as everyone made it out to be, but it was hard to ignore the way it reminded him of home. Maybe he could call his mom – speaking with her usually brought him some semblance of peace. Though, she might have a negative reaction to the situation he found himself in. On the hot rubber roofing, he kicked around piles of dirt before leaning against the ledge of the building, craning his head back and closing his eyes when he heard the rooftop door open.

“Look, I’m really not in the mood for any sort of discussion right now,” he complained, neglecting to spare a glance at whoever was disturbing his quiet – not exactly an Eden, but quiet.

He recognized Emily by the sound her boots made, even on the rubber that had been softened by the relentless sun, “I’d be more surprised if you were in the mood to talk.”

Impulsively, he rolled his eyes, “Did Hotch put you in charge of me?” He was glad his eyes were still shut, that way he couldn’t see the look on Emily’s face when he sniped at her.

“No,” she responded, gathering his attention as he brought his head down, squinting in the sunlight. “I thought you might want to know what just happened,” she nearly challenged, dark hair gleaming in the daylight.

Mentally kicking himself, he nodded for a moment, “You’re right, I just… I’m sorry.”

Taking a moment, Prentiss walked over, standing next to him, “I know.” She sighed, turning around and taking inventory of the surrounding buildings, “She was sent out here to look at some shady dealings of the company – insider trading, that kind of stuff. The main branch has an investigation open with the SEC, and they have been for the last few months. She was supposed to meet with that Ezra guy this morning to try and work something out. Hotch is talking to the CEO right now, he’s claiming he couldn’t tell JJ because it’s need-to-know,” Emily explained, focusing her eyes on the highway in the distance. “The SEC has an office in Fort Worth, they’re sending some people, and they faxed over all of the files.”

Setting his jaw, Spencer was the first to move to the stairs, the air conditioning providing an instant relief as he strode down the steps with Emily trailing close behind.

A field agent was standing in the middle of the office, stirring a cup of coffee, “Would someone really kidnap a woman over an SEC investigation?”

“We’ve seen much worse for much less,” Spencer mentioned in passing, swerving through the office of people until he made it back to the conference room. “Why would Y/N’s boss send her to investigate something that had already been brought to the SEC?” He posed the question to the rest of the team, taking one of the files that Morgan handed him and reading through the pages.

Rossi shrugged, nodding his head in the direction of the evidence board, “He wanted it handled quietly,” he posited. “Maybe he thought she could negotiate a solution and they could call off the securities investigation.”

Understanding where Spencer was going with his question, Hotch watched the board as if it was all coming together, “But, Y/N had no idea there was an open investigation. This was just another assignment to her.”

You had basically said as much in your voicemails, you went in, and you cleaned up fires across the country, and now you were caught in a blaze. “It was a setup,” Spencer concluded.

“And I know just who you need to talk to,” Garcia said over the phone, typing on her keyboard, “Check your phones.”

Ezra’s assistant folded immediately under the threat of being charged with interfering with a federal investigation. She had no knowledge of what her boss was up to, but she did know where the BAU could find him.

On the edge of the city, your company held an old office building that was slated for demolition. With the information from the assistant and some actions of questionable legality from Garcia, the team was able to nail down Ezra’s location and, hopefully, yours.

Letting SWAT lead the way, Spencer, Emily, and Morgan all made their way up yet another flight of stairs, hoping to be able to find you on the third floor. The SWAT commander signaled with his fingers to direct everyone in their respective directions.

There was a clang from across the floor and everyone froze in place, “Fuck you!” Your voice rang out, reverberating through the mostly empty office space. The yelp that followed would have sent Spencer clambering in your direction if it weren’t for Morgan grabbing his arm in warning. “I didn’t know,” you spoke again, your tone less obstinate as the misery you felt crept in.

Drawing their weapons, the team clung to the wall as SWAT gave orders over comms until the team came into view, lifting their firearms.

In retaliation, Ezra pulled you up, keeping a deadly tight grip on your upper arm as he kept you compliant by pressing the barrel of his gun to your temple. “She told me you’d come,” he said, nearly seething with rage like a rabid animal.

It seemed like a ridiculous moment to feel relief, but the fact that you knew the BAU would come for you ever so slightly lightened the weight on Spencer’s shoulders. However, whatever relief he felt was quickly banished from existence when his eyes met yours, you were covered in blood. It leaked in a steady stream from your nose and down your sleep shirt, he hoped that was the extent of the damage that had been done but based on the evidence of a struggle in the hotel room, he doubted it.

“Y/N, don’t look at him, look at us, look at Spencer,” Emily reasoned, noting the way you looked over at your captor, eyeing the gun in his hand.

You didn’t look scared, not to Spencer, though Emily had reasonably assumed that you would be in this situation. “Y/N, don’t,” Spencer said in a warning.

But his warning came too late, you had already swung your bound hands up, grabbing the weapon from Ezra as you kicked his legs out from under him. If Spencer hadn’t been so worried, he would’ve been impressed, but now he found himself in an entirely different situation.

“The safety’s still on,” you chastised as your now shaking hands undid the small latch, settling your pointer finger on the trigger as you stared him down.

SWAT seemed entirely dumbfounded, not sure how to go about the admittedly unique situation, so, it fell upon your husband to talk you down. Slowly, he holstered his weapon and stepped toward you, “Baby, put the gun down.”

You sucked in a harsh breath, “He set me up, Spence”

“I know, darling, I know,” Spencer said breathlessly, holding his hands out to stop any and all movement in the warehouse. “This isn’t the answer though, okay? You know this isn’t the answer.”

Your hands didn’t stop shaking, still bound together by the flex cuffs on your wrists as you narrowed your eyes at Ezra. “He set me up,” your voice broke at the sheer memory of the betrayal.

Distantly, you heard Derek tell people to lower their weapons, convincing the field agents that you weren’t a threat. “This isn’t you,” Spencer insisted.

Blinking as tears fell from your eyes, you gripped the handle of the gun, leaving your pointer finger hovering precariously on the trigger. This isn’t you. This isn’t the answer. This isn’t you. This isn’t the answer.

Swallowing thickly, you looked down at Ezra, who was taunting you, trying to get you to pull the trigger. You fought against yourself, trying not to stare at Spencer because you knew as soon as you met his brown eyes, the choice would be made for you.

“Pull the damn trigger,” Ezra jeered, baring his teeth at you. This was it; this was the end. The FBI had the whole building surrounded. Even if he tried to run, the BAU would follow him, they’d chase him down, and they’d kill him themselves if it came down to it.

Slowly, you moved your thumb, re-engaging the safety before you lowered your arms, handing the gun off to Spencer. As he grabbed the barrel of the gun with one hand, he pulled you in with the other, passing the gun off to Emily so he could hug you tightly.

He pulled away for a moment, retrieving a pocketknife and using it to cut the flex cuffs from your wrists, letting the stiff plastic fall to the ground, and catching you when you practically threw your arms around him.

Your legs gave out from under you, and Spencer wondered how long you had been in this sweltering building without water, likely having used the last of your strength to stop Ezra. “Shh,” he hushed gently, “Let’s sit down,” he spoke to only you as he guided you to the ground.

Closer to you now, he saw more of the damage that had been done, the glazed look over your eyes, your chapped lips, and a bruise on the side of your head. “I knew you’d come,” you murmured dazedly, swaying ever so slightly, “I told him you’d come.”

“I know, I know,” Spencer reassured you, listening to the buzzing of people, hopefully EMTs, around you.

A hiccupping sob almost broke his heart, but he just kept his hold on you, keeping you upright and wishing your nosebleed would clot. “I almost killed him,” you mumbled.

But you didn’t, he wanted to respond. Part of him felt like it would’ve been fine if you had. You’d have gotten away with it, even, but he knew firsthand what it felt like to take another life. He wanted to believe that he had played a part in you turning the safety back on, but even he wasn’t sure.

“How are you feeling? Better?” Spencer asked, sitting on the edge of your hospital bed and taking your hand in his.

He squeezed your hand gently, allowing you to admire the way your wedding ring looked now that it had been returned to its rightful home. “Much,” you assured him, keeping your head resting on the mountain of pillows behind you. You had been cleaned up, stitches on your forehead, and a bandaged cut on your thigh, but the main concern was your dehydration. An IV delivered fluids to you while you sipped on a cup of water, waiting for your stomach to settle enough for you to eat something.

Spencer raised his eyebrows, reaching out and sweeping a strand of hair behind your ear, “Good enough to try something for dinner?”

You nodded apprehensively, “Something light?”

The smile that sprouted on his face was enough to convince you to eat. He offered to go talk to your nurse, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead before he left the room, leaving the door open so you could see him in the hallway.

A small chime got your attention, looking around for the source of the noise, you found yourself digging through Spencer’s bag, retrieving your cell phone from the leather satchel.

There was a scratch over the screen, but it still worked just fine following your skirmish in the hotel, you opened the phone to find that you had a voicemail. You tapped the message before bringing the phone to your ear.

Tuesday, 10:23 p.m.

“Hey love, I’m just leaving the office now. I’m sure they’ll be more receptive to you as you talk more, you can be very convincing. The weather is very dry in Texas, make sure you keep hydrated, okay? I’m sorry I didn’t answer any of your calls, we’ve been trying to prepare all of this paperwork for Strauss and time just got away from us. I miss you, maybe when you get home, we could talk about taking a trip. We could go see my mom. It’s been a while. Hm… I have to admit, I’m a little bummed you didn’t answer the phone, but I’m glad you’re getting sleep. I love you so much, sleep well.”

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid hurt/comfort #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds hurt/comfort #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst #spencer reid x y/n #margot's requests #written by margot

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evilminji · 10 months ago

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Dani should Kidnap The Clones.

It's basicly protective custody. Preemptive child services, if you will. NONE of these fuckers out here makin adorable clone baby just cause they want kids!

*kicks down the door to your shady lab* Knock Knock! ITS THE POLICE! *Walker's Shock troopers swarm the place as Dani secures the kids*

Look me in the eyes. You KNOW he'd love an excuse to enforce The Rules on people technically outside his jurisdiction. It's for The Children(tm)! Why, he simply had no CHOICE!

Meanwhile? Dani is shoving all these mal-adjusted Murder Clones into her Lair? Which is? Basicly a Door style Lair she hid inside Danny's Lair for safe keeping. It's shoved behind a vending machine just outside the observatory. And the inside? Goes on for DAYS.

Like national parks and every beautiful beach she ever came across. She smashed together the BEST sights and places she's found in her travels, like a collection. Always adding more. New waterfalls, new noodle shops, new fields of wine grapes. It's... beautiful. Snapshots of every wonderous little thing about Earth, stitched together.

They can't hurt anyone. Can't achieve their "objectives". Are just treated like actual individuals and the children they truely are. Are surrounded by other Clones. So it's NORMAL here. Just? All of it.

But also?

Dani and Dan? Teaming up to make History's Scariest Adoption Agency(TM). Dan runs it. Dan wants to know why EXACTLY you want a kid. Explain yourself to Dan. What are your references? Qualifications. He's doing a home visit to inspect the premises. He BETTER not find any suspicious Labs.

And? It just? Appears out of nowhere. It's powered by Zone Bullshit. One second you're thinking "oh woe is me D:> I will never have a child to fill my lovely home, because of all my Superhero Secrets and also because government bureaucracy!" And the next?

.....wasn't that an out of business taco bell? "Zone Adoptions"?

"....Free Clone Baby?"

Okay that is HIGHLY suspicious and as a hero you are basicly legally obligated to investigate. But now it's bigger on the inside? Fancy waiting room? You are being interrogated? Wait, no, you're supposed to be the one doing the-?

Somehow? You leave with your Clone Son from another Dimension. And a pamphlet. You're scheduled for a home visit in three days. You... you never told them where you live.

Somehow that doesn't seem like it will slow them down.

Did the Fae just Suprise Baby you with a clone baby? Can they DO that? W... what's happening? What days is this? Who ARE YOU PEOPLE?! HUH!?!?

Just? Imagine. IMAGINE. I was gonna say Bruce... but?

Damian.

He finds himself... pondering What Could Have Been. Had his Clones not wanted him dead. Wondering if he could have saved them. If, perhaps, he had found them as infants. Raised them. Could he have given them a good life? Been a good father?

He gets emotional. Fatherly. He's about 14.

Dan's been around Ghosts too long to remember how humans age or how age relates to development. This one TALKS like An Adult. Must be one. Probably just short.

And Damian? Never backs down. The second Dan starts challenging him? His character is flawless and his morals divine. He has never done anything wrong, ever, in his LIFE. Fuck you. And on TOP of that? He not only will be the SINGLE GREATEST FATHER TO EVER FATHER, his home is the most loving and beloved ON THE PLANET!

In entirety of EARTH'S history, no less!

....what are they arguing about?

*is handed a baby and kicked out of Dan's adoption agency*

See you in a few days!

(o.o ) *happy gurgling from the baby* *Damian.exe has stopped working*

Smash cut, after Damian speed runs his stages of grief at his own Dumbass Life Choices, to his rocking back up at the Manor like? Congratulations, Father. I have brought you your first grandson! Do Not ask how I obtained him. It was likely dubiously legal but I will not be returning him. We have bonded.

And just? Annihilating the collective Bats on one go. You did what? You have What?! That is a baby! WHY IS THERE A BABY?! How is there a baby!? WHOS BABY!? *sirens going off and everyone panicking*

Will Damian be allowed to KEEP the Baby? Ha! Hell no. Bruce will. Damian is a child. But it will be a Needlessly Dramatic Bat Cold War Of Dramatic Drama to pry that small cherubic baby from his grip long enough for Bruce to fill out the paperwork.

Child thieving bastard that he is. How dare he. That is Damian's SON! D:<

*happy oblivious baby noises as Alfred feeds him in the background, while the Bats do their Dramatic Custody War*

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @hypewinter @nerdpoe @lolottes @mutable-manifestation

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #minji's writing

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neysaadept · 11 days ago

Text

Prometheus Chapter 4

Emily Prentiss x Female CIA Reader

Chapter 4 - Socially Blocked

Little different chapter style. Hope you enjoy. Also, I have no beta so mistakes are all me.

Tags: Limited use of y/n but established last name. Swearing, mentions of the pandemic and human and sex trafficking. Canon typical violence. Sexual innuendos. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 4.8k

AO3

You had joined Prentiss in her office several hours ago to go over the forensic evidence that had come in. Laptop balancing on your thighs, you compile the data and cross reference missing persons with the families that Lewis had been gently consoling until the lab techs worked their magic. This was your nightly ritual with the section chief since joining; identification and providing closure.

What you did during the day was follow her around like a fucking assistant. You were now well versed in FBI budgetary matters, regulatory concerns, and how long new policies would be put into practice. You knew there were countless mind-numbing meetings, but this was insane. Most of the meetings could be cut in half, be done over Zoom, or just not happen at all. Just fucking email one another.

Then there were piles upon piles of paperwork to sort, sign and scan and files to review sent by local law enforcement agencies asking for FBI assistance. Just briefly glimpsing some of the cases made you wonder how one could decide which case mattered more. Go after one psycho but let the less of a psycho go free for the state to handle? Some requests had to be denied general FBI involvement due to a jurisdiction juggling nightmare that needed to be sorted first.

If this was a section chief’s life, how the fuck did Brian survive being the director of the entire CIA?

The more pressing question on your mind was why Prentiss was doing her damnedest in limiting time between you and the rest of the team. Okay, yes, Prentiss didn’t know anything about you, and yes, it was difficult to delegate work to you without knowing all your capabilities, but being a special agent in the CIA meant something.

You just gave the BAU a ton of money! Least you could do something more than be a glorified secretary! Not like you expected time out in the field, you totally understood that was out of bounds, but it’s been three days like this, and it was getting on your nerves. Why were you familiarizing yourself with FBI manuals if all you were good for was be a gopher for Prentiss?

Day 1

1145

Prentiss had given you a quick tour of the bullpen leaving the conference room for last. When you enter, excited to present your sweet offerings, you saw the team was already standing and ready to break. Introductions were made quickly, with almost every team member thanking you for the food and grabbing something.

Luke grabbed a chocolate frosted long john with a grin. “Can’t wait to catch up with you when we get back!”

You blink. Back from … what?

JJ grabbed a handful of macarons with delight, already stuffing one in her mouth as she left. “Dis isz weally nice ov ya!” she said, covering her mouth to not accidentally spew crumbs at you.

Rossi was far more debonair and rounds the choices with an index finger before plucking out a glazed twist, flashing a smile. “Thanks, kid.”

You saw Garcia slipping out quickly without making eye contact.

The hell?!

You open your mouth to say more, but he looks apologetic. “We’ll talk more later. Gotta lot going on right now, but we’ll make time.”

At least Tara had the decency to stop for a few seconds to exchange simply pleasantries. “So nice to finally meet you! Rebecca says nothing but good things.”

You raise a brow and chuckle. “Really?”

Prentiss looks unconvinced as well.

She shrugs and steals a macaron. “Yes, for real. I’ve gotta lot of family interviews and sessions lined up today, but we’ll chat more later.”

Patting you on the shoulder, Tara starts to exit the conference room backwards, pointing at you with promise. “You’re gonna have to tell me all you can about that HSC* in Saxony. Later!”

You sigh with close eyes and your head falls back. These little tidbits were not helping without context for your new boss. Even before you open your eyes to look at Prentiss, you just know she is staring at you with contempt.

Yep. There it is. Just missing an eyeroll.

Without being asked, you take a seat at the table and shove the box towards Prentiss. “We were tailing ISIS members. One decided he could get away when we moved in and learned how very wrong he was about it.”

1315

Prentiss left you to read FBI procedural manuals while she went to meet the deputy director. She had thought it prudent to delay you two crossing paths for as long as possible considering he was not happy with either of you. It was nice to hear that you had something in common with Prentiss. The tiny scrap of connection was something, no matter how pitiful. And you knew Prentiss was happy to upset Bailey.

This leaves you alone for a short time and you decide to use it wisely and check in on Garcia. It was really bothering you why she ignored you earlier today. Yeah, the team was busy with the Sicarius case, but everyone else had acknowledged you as they hurried off. Surely the bold color choices of her ensemble meant she was outgoing and not shy. You didn’t even make polite eye contact.

So, you go by instinct and grab a few left over macarons and position them with purpose on a white paper plate before heading to what you learned was The Lair.

Aware of not barging in on a tech’s work, unless you wanted to have your head bit off, you knock and wait.

“Entrer!’ you hear through the door and smile.

You open the door and poke your head in with a playful grin. “Hey, Garcia.”

The flurry of typing abruptly stops and you see her stiffen. Your grin quickly falls into a frown.

“I’m sorry.” You fully move into the room, noting the same outlandish decor that matches Garcia’s clothing. “I hope I’m not bothering you?” you say hopefully.

“Nope!” She pops the p and goes back to typing. By a cursory glance on what was on the screens, yeah, you had no idea what she was working on.

Garcia said nothing more but the stiff body language and her outright ignoring you once again, made it clear you upset her. Pushing her at this moment would only cause the divide to widen. You barely know each other.

“Well, I saw you didn’t take any treats and brought them to you. Probably hard getting away while you’re …”

“Cataloging important data,” she said quickly, still not looking at you.

“Yeah, so …” you look around and see an open spot on the table to her right. You are careful to not move anything when you put the plate down next to a fuzzy neon green turtle. “Enjoy when you-“

“Hey Garica, I’m jus-“ Prentiss’ fond tone quickly dissolves to accusatory. “You’re supposed to be in my office.”

“And I took a break. That a problem?” you challenge, taking in Prentiss confident posture, hand out before her with the other in her suit pants pocket. She cut quite the authoritative figure.

Garcia keeps typing away but slower so she can concentrate on you and Prentiss.

“No, but I’d appreciate you leaving the team alone while they’re working.” The words sound like a suggestion, but the tone was an order.

“Yeah, sure,” you concede, again, not wanting to cause an unnecessary argument. But first, you bow to the back of Garcia sitting in her chair. “Bon appetit!”

You rise and move pass Prentiss, both of you locking gazes and it ticks you off you had to look away since you were the one leaving.

“Oh, darn it!” whimpers Garcia. “Why?!”

Alarmed, Prentiss walks over to her with concern. “What’s wrong, Penelope?”

With a deeply etched sullen look on her face, she shows Emily the plate you had left. It was a macaron smiley face. One eye was pink, the other blue, and the smile was purple. You chose the bright colors on purpose.

“Why'd she have to do something this cute?!” she complains. “I’m not supposed to like her!”

1750

You roll your head working out the stiffness that settles in your shoulders from being hunched over most of the day on Prentiss’ couch going over manuals and signing off on orientation documents. You had tried various positions to find any source of comfort once joints began to ache. You sat on your ass with feet on the floor, legs on the couch, cross one leg, then the other, then had to stretch them along the couch. Then you said fuck it and placed the laptop on the cushion and laid supine while working and then to top it off, you sat on the floor with the laptop on the couch like a desk not giving any fucks what Prentiss thought.

She offered the couch, not her desk, to work on, and you didn’t want to get all up in her business setting up shop across from her. She’d probably shoot you if you decided to leave for a desk in the bullpen. And oddly enough, when it appeared you were going to get up, she engaged in questions about what you were reading or if you had any concerns. All sterile and by the book, but with suspicious brown eyes trying to figure you out.

It was only day one and you were willing to play the game, not letting her get to you. All in all, it really was a typical first day of boring bullshit. Just without a cubicle.

Eh, you had suffered far worse with even more irate coworkers and direct supervisors. But this felt different. Maybe Brian was right and you weren’t made for the general population. And yes, that meant the people at Quantico.

You weren’t kidding that Prentiss was a legend when you made that quip. Faking her own death to protect that kid and her team was a brilliant self-sacrificing move that you deeply respected. Then as you dug deeper into the team’s background, you gained a deeper respect for the BAU’s work, dedication, and the trauma they’ve been through to keep the people of your country safe.

Of course, you honed in on Prentiss’ work since she was your superior. One assumed if you were CIA or former CIA everyone knew each other and that simply wasn’t the case. While Prentiss was infiltrating Doyle’s criminal organization, you were gathering intel in Afghanistan on al-Qa’ida's operations. You two worked very different operative circles.

Despite your specializations never intersecting professionally until now, on paper, you two should at least get along and have something to talk about then just … whatever this was in her office right now. You both were driven, intelligent women who were dedicated to the people on your team and would protect them at all costs. Your skill sets were complementary and overlapped with being seasoned international operatives, you spoke several languages, focused on counter terrorism, and were awarded many commendations for mission successes and demonstration of skill sets.

But here you are, sitting on the floor of her office like you were her kid finishing homework.

“You should probably head home.”

You glance over your shoulder and scowl, seeing Prentiss was looking down at a file and not you.

“I don’t mind staying and catching up with all this. Same thing I’d be doing at the apartment. The lab reports are important to review ASAP.” You didn’t want to correct her about what home was and wasn’t.

You look at the files cluttering the desk and cross your lips in thought. “Need any help? Granted, I’m not savvy enough yet on all the FBI lingo but paperwork’s still a bitch however you cut it.”

That made her look up at you. She was motionless as she considered your proposal and your earnest face.

“Thank you, but no.” She looks down again. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n.” After you salute, you stand up and stretch, hearing your knees pop. You then grab your laptop and manuals, tucking them under your arms securely.

Note to self, bring a backpack.

You are polite as you walk by, offering a nod she didn’t appear to see. “Night, Prentiss.”

She hums noncommittally but as you drag your eyes away from her desk, you notice something that provides a glimmer of hope.

On a napkin that had been tucked out of view near one of the file stacks was a half-eaten red macaron.

Day 2

0630

You came to Quantico early with a bottle of Diet Coke in hand and your black and grey backpack secure around both shoulders, ready to tackle the day before anyone else got here.

Yet you see a movement coming from Prentiss’ office window and have to stop. She was already here? You squint in thought and presume she had stayed late and came in early – basing this assumption on her work ethic and how every good leader worked themselves ragged on little sleep.

You down some more pop and climb the stairs to her office, gently knocking. She opens the door and you raise a brow at her because she was wearing yesterday’s clothes.

“What are you doing here?” she asks with surprise accusation.

“Wanted an early start. What’s your excuse?” you probe gently.

She thins her lips and steps aside as a silent invitation to come inside. “Sicarius.”

Prentiss didn’t have to say anything further for you to understand the unspoken. She had no one to go home to, so why worry about time and just bury herself in work. And by the time Prentiss realized what time it was, she might as well stay in her office and sleep. She probably had a change of clothing in the closet, and it was easy to freshen up in one of the locker rooms. It was a more productive use of her time than driving home to do the same thing and come right back here. Avoid all that traffic.

You should know. You’ve done it yourself many times.

“Fair enough,” you say without judgement as you drop your backpack on the couch. “Does the team know?”

She reaches for the white FBI seal decorated coffee mug on her desk and frowns. “Know what?”

“That you stay here sometimes.” You knock back several gulps of pop before setting the bottle down on the side table.

After a moment of consideration while sipping her coffee, she looks to you with a narrowing gaze. “No.”

You nod, understanding the silent request. “Secret’s safe with me.”

1233

You were grabbing a cup of coffee for an afternoon pick me up, when you hear slow purposeful footsteps coming closer.

“Like a little coffee with your cream there, kid?” Rossi jokes, coming to stand beside you.

You chuckle. “I do. Bonus if it’s French Vanilla.”

He regards you with wizened eyes, but you could tell he was exhausted with how often he blinks. “How long have you been CIA?”

Oh here we go.

“Long time.” It wasn’t a precise answer, but it also wasn’t a lie.

“Sounds like me and the FBI.” His eyes twinkle with mirth.

“Hey, I’m not that old,” you answer with a grin before taking a sip of coffee.

He laughs as you swallow and continue. “You know, it’s probably not a surprise I know your work, Mr. Writer.”

Rossi acknowledges with a nod. “No, this does not come as a surprise at all.”

You hum, nodding. “Broken Child was the first one I read. Though, I did follow your work with the Gideons closely.”

He smiles with delight. “Really?” Rossi pauses and gestures for you to follow him to continue this conversation elsewhere. You could tell he was fascinated by this. “How far back?”

“Oh, pretty far. As you know, your guys’ work wasn’t all BAU related.”

“True. The CIA did take part of our research for profiling training. And to use for psych evals on operatives.” He smiles. “Am I getting close?”

“Definitely warm.” You smile back. “It was part of my training.”

“You’ll have to tell me more.”

And just as things were becoming interesting with a non-Prentiss member of the BAU, she has to come and ruin it. It’s like the woman had a sixth sense when you were getting too close to one of her teammates.

“Hey, Dave. I need you in the conference room. JJ and Luke have an update on our unsub in Texas.”

“Right.” He holds out his hand, which you take, and he gently squeezes. “I look forward to continuing this later.”

Your smile was bright. Working with Rossi was a perk of agreeing to this. You never thought you’d have the chance to have face to face time with someone who wrote the blueprints for training you, again.

“Yeah, me too.”

He keeps your hand for a moment longer before letting go and looking at Prentiss. “You sure the kid can’t just listen in?”

You try not to look eager and utterly fail. You just know you got the sad puppy dog eyes going. Which, of course, doesn’t work on the leery section chief. “Whitlock has promised to help me with paperwork. Isn’t that right?”

Fucking hell! She’s using generosity from last night as an excuse to keep me busy. ARGH!

Of course, you’re not going to call her out on it as you really did offer to help and meant it. You manage to keep the disappointment hidden from your voice and raise your cup to her. “Indeed, I did.”

“You can start with scanning the reports on top of my desk calendar.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” you salute carefully with your coffee hand and wander off.

As you are leaving, Rossi looks to Prentiss with a knowing look. “You do know she might be able to help us with the case. You just don’t want her to.”

Emily heard the unspoken question of why. “We barely know anything about her. I don’t need a wildcard fucking anything up.”

“Emily. Come on. She’s a seasoned CIA operative. We could pick her brain while she’s here instead of hiding her away in your office. Actually use her as a consultant.”

“You just like her because she read your books,” she fires back sarcastically.

“Well, yeah, but that’s not the point…”

1435

Whitlock: I hate this place

You were chatting with Brian on the CIA secure network on your laptop instead of your phone to avoid making Prentiss press as to what you were doing. You even silenced the chat notifications

Korogoth: It’s only the second day.

Whitlock: All I’m doing is reading and paperwork :(

Whitlock: Prentiss keeps socially blocking me!

Korogoth: What does that even mean?

Whitlock: I’m stuck in her office all day and when I need to go do something, she’s always up my ass. And when I’m free and have time to chat the team up, she magically shows up and stops it. It fucking sucks!

Whitlock: Stuffs coming in with the big case and I get to know nothing.

Whitlock: So all I do is read the FBI shit, which I know I need to do and scan in shit. I’m a over qualified secretary

Whitlock: UGH

Korogoth: Regretting it?

Whitlock: Yes

Whitlock: No

Whitlock: Maybe. Helping the families find closure is important tho.

Whitlock: And … I got to speak to Rossi for a sec

Korogoth: … and?

Whitlock: I told him I was a big fan :D

Korogoth: LOL really?

Whitlock: Why is that so funny?!

Whitlock: :P

Korogoth: What did you talk about?

Whitlock: That I read his books and papers.

Whitlock: With the Gideons

Korogoth: *facepalm*

Korogoth: Tread carefully missy.

Whitlock: ;)

Present Day

1145

JJ had returned earlier this morning with Luke and was now sitting with Garcia at her desk in the bullpen. They were focused on whatever was on Garcia’s computer and were animatedly discussing something about a message app behind a weather one.

You start to head over there but Prentiss comes in with Bailey and the deputy director makes a bee line right for you.

Ah, fuck.

You beat him to the introductions and hold out your hand towards him. “Hello Deputy Director Bailey. Special Agent Whitlock.”

“Yes, I know who you are.” He does not take your hand, and you curl it into a fist before dropping it. “I’m surprised it’s taken us this long to be formally introduced.” His tone was dripping with malice as he scrutinizes Prentiss.

Before Prentiss can react, you jump in to defend her. You hate high profile dickwards like him. “Well, there’s a lot going on with orientating me to FBI standards. Can’t go all CIA on your protocols.” You smile patronizingly. “Gotta be by the book, right?”

“Despite her unorthodox addition to the team, it’s prudent her training remains up to FBI standards,” Prentiss adds while Bailey attempts to stare you down.

He wasn’t even pathetically cute. Just … pathetic. The deputy director’s appearance was far too clean cut and pristine. He didn’t have that disgruntled tone that revealed years of field work that jaded an agent. There was no desensitized look in his eyes, just bureaucratic contempt.

“I’m glad to hear that. It takes months for an agent to go through training at Quantico, Whitlock. You wouldn’t want to diminish their hard work with the quick pass you’ve gotten.”

You smile sweetly.

What an asshole.

“We’re all on the same side, even though we’re on different teams, Deputy Director.” You lean forward with promise. “I won’t besmirch the good name of the FBI.”

Then your eyes drag over to Prentiss’ and soften. “I’m here to help.”

1345

You see the team assembled in the bullpen and have no idea what they’re talking about because you are in Prentiss’ office sorting paperwork. Your sincere invitation for Prentiss to trust you when Bailey was here was ignored.

1437

You are slowly dying inside sitting in on a budget meeting with Prentiss …

1634

… and then an advisory meeting with the DOJ. Too bad Rebecca wasn’t here but then that would be socializing.

You two chatted briefly after your first day and made a promise to properly catch up when you could. With your schedules, it’ll be difficult but with how things are going. Well, more her schedule than yours …

1930

You come back from your introspection that had occurred over the last few days and try to focus on the unfinished email you were drafting for Lewis. The problem is that the words remain blurry, and you are unable to concentrate to type the rest of your thoughts. Your thoughts are swimming around the fact that in the three days you have been at Quantico all you've been is snubbed by the woman currently ignoring you at her desk.

You close your laptop and rise to take a seat across from Prentiss. Her mouth hangs open, with what you presume would be a line of questioning as to where you were going to go, and instead found you seated before her. Your boldness took her by surprise.

“Ah, yes?” she asks cautiously. “Something wrong with the lab reports?”

She was well aware if you had an issue with the reports, you would have said something from the couch. As you have done before.

“No. Just, you.”

You know you should be more patient like Brian encouraged you to be. Let Prentiss take the lead and integrate you into the unit. But you weren’t stupid. You can read the room, and the room wanted you far away from the members of the BAU.

Prentiss straightens up with wide eyes at the audacity of your words. “Excuse me?”

“No, you’re not excused. Not unless you can tell me why you’re keeping me all to yourself,” you respond flippantly.

She licks the back of her bottom teeth before it drags along her lower lip. Oh yes, Prentiss is ready to throw down with you. You see how her pupils blow wide at being provoked and she caps her pen before her. “All right. You want to do this? Let’s do this.”

The pen drops, as does the pretense before you.

“I don’t know you. But I do know I can’t trust you. Anyone I can’t trust is a danger to my people and therefore, you get to stay the hell away from them.”

You throw your hands up in celebration. “Finally! A real conversation.” You lower your arms and lean back, resting a leg over the opposite knee. “I’m sorry I can’t be completely forthcoming about everything about me. But that’s not my call. My shit’s sealed for a reason but it’s not because I did anything illegal. I'm sure that's what you're worried about."

“Then why did you need a lawyer?” she presses.

Fuck.

“I can’t say.”

She shakes her head with displeasure. “Of course you can’t. Because good agents don't need help covering up their messes.”

“Oh come the fuck on, Prentiss. Wilson’s a good person. A good lawyer. She helped me because …” You grit your teeth because you need to collect your thoughts before you say too much. You inhale deeply and uncross your legs to lean forward, gesturing with open hands for understanding. “… because it was a call I had to make. Follow orders and have people die. Or I did what I did. Which I was absolved of, ya know. That's gotta count for something?"

Without knowing the exact circumstances of what you did, you weren’t sure if Prentiss would care or not. You could have disobeyed orders because they were truly the wrong call or your superior was compromised in some way, or this was a cover up because you fucked up. You are hoping that she thinks the former because of dropping Wilson’s name as a good person and lawyer. Which is all true!

You watch as she subtly shakes her head, at war with her thoughts. “But there’s nothing about you. You barely exist. I can’t just accept you if there's nothing to back up your claims. So, you’re a means to an end for me. For the BAU.”

Wow. Pretense is so gone now ...

“You know, I’ve been thinking of myself as your highly paid secretary, but hey,” you roll your eyes, “let’s go with CIA sugar mama.”

“See that,” she points at you with indignation. “That right there’s why I can't take you seriously. You’re fucking lack of respect. Making jokes that are way outta line.”

“Oh fuck you and your wine addiction.” Yeah, you went there, gesturing to the half empty bottle. The woman downed a one a night and that was only what you saw. You wouldn’t be surprised if she had more. “Least I use humor to mask the trauma of my past instead of drowning it with alcohol and work.”

“How dare you make fucking assumptions about me,” she snaps, voice raising to meet yours.

You audibly scoff and rise, Prentiss doing the same. “You’ve been doing it the whole time since we met, let alone profiling me. Which I get, since you don’t know shit about me. But at least I was trying to get along with you despite the fucking cold shoulder. I ain’t expecting to be best friends but you don’t need to be a bitch about the situation.”

You turn around to grab your things, knocking over several empty Diet Coke bottles that you balanced on the couch arm.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

“Leaving your delightful presence.” You stuff your backpack with your laptop and books. “I’ve had more than enough of this shit.”

You miss the moment of panic on Prentiss’ face since your back was turned. Her mind was reeling with the ramification of what this could mean. Are you leaving for good? If you weren’t working with the BAU on paper the contract would be in breach. Pride kept her from asking you to clarify as she watches you storm off and slam the door behind you.

Emily grits her teeth as she leans over her desk, trying to stop her hands from shaking. She gives up, the anxiety of the situation she finds herself in too much and pulls the top left drawer open of the desk to get the pack of cigarettes stashed there. She quickly lights up and takes a long drag off the cigarette, unable to fight her trembling lips as she blows the smoke free.

“Fuck…”

What was she doing to do?

*High Speed Chase

Chapter 5

#criminal minds #emily prentiss #criminal minds evolution #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily x reader #emily x you #emily prentiss x female reader

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endofthelinepal107 · 3 months ago

Text

sukuna - a deal with the devil pt. 2/3

{in the aftermath of your agreement with the king of curses, you find your alliance becoming more personal than either of you expected} 5.8k words

part one + part two + part three

notes: kind of OC sukuna because he's way too lenient and soft with you

warnings: cursing

tags: @missroro

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Sukuna sat down on the concrete, one leg propped up. You sat down opposite him, leaving a healthy amount of space between you. The two of you needed to figure out how this arrangement was going to work, and that meant being open with each other. You started.

"In the jujutsu world, I'm not exactly as much of an insider as my friends are," you told him honestly. "I try to follow their moral code, but it's no secret that I don't agree with a lot of it. I cross lines pretty often, get into trouble with the higher-ups. I think, if I didn't associate with the people I did, I'd probably have been executed a long time ago." You looked down at your hands. "I wasn't meant to actually... help you. Just manipulate you enough and provide just enough benefits to win you over. But I don't want to do that, because it doesn't have to be done like that. And I- I think that you recognise that, too."

Sukuna listened in silence. Up until then, he hadn't been able to identify what it was about you that kept catching him off guard. Now, he knew. It was your sincerity. When was the last time someone was sincere to him? Even Uraume wasn't entirely sincere, because of their stifling obsequiousness. So the last time someone had looked at him and spoken completely honestly and sincerely was probably never.

When you finished talking, Sukuna didn't argue. He took his turn fairly.

"Before I was incarnated in this form, I was a sorcerer, like you. Stronger, much stronger. The Heian era was a much harsher world than the one you live in, so my strength increased rapidly. Then I died. Then I was a cursed spirit. And now I'm me again." His expression shifted in a scowl as he continued. "During your foolish attempts to antagonise me, you mentioned my four arms, which I still retain. My true form is still present if I wish it to be, and so are my cursed techniques." He paused, then looked you dead in the eye. "If I see fit, I will kill you in an instant. A binding vow will not stop me from doing that."

He didn't know what response he expected, but the nod he received wasn't it. And he couldn't stop the thought that ran through his head: He knew for certain that he was not going to kill you. Ever. He didn't know exactly why, but he knew that with conviction.

"Okay." You inhaled, then exhaled. Then you turned your palm up, as though you were offering him something. "We have to determine the kind of dynamic we're going to have."

"I will maintain absolute power."

"I don't think you will, though."

"Sorcerer, you should watch your tone when you address me, or you may find yourself without a tongue to backchat with."

"King, you might think I'm an idiot, but I'm not so much of an idiot that I don't realise that this is a mutually beneficial situation."

"Your death would be mutually beneficial."

"What would be mutually beneficial would be an equal partnership."

"I must admit, I'm a little impressed that you said that with a straight face."

The bickering made you sigh and you leaned back on your hands. "The other sorcerers aren't going to let you out of my sight regardless. What I should really be suggesting is that I hold the power, but I'm not stupid. Equality is the fairest way to do it."

He stared you down for a long few moments. Then he let out a huff, turning his head and looking down the road. "If there is an instance where violence is necessary, it falls into my jurisdiction."

You were just as amazed as he was that he had just agreed to that, but you had the sense to talk before he could change his mind. "If there's negotiation, then I should get to do it."

"I don't want to talk to juvenile, weak sorcerers, anyway." He sounded petulant. He looked it, too.

"We should share information back and forth," you added, "to make sure this works properly."

Sukuna looked back at you. "Currently, we're establishing a structure of co-dependence." He waited for you to argue. When you just nodded in acknowledgement, he carried on. "The usual barrier to co-dependence is a lack of reciprocity."

"So, we need a sort of constant flow between us," you nodded. "A continued stream of back and forth."

"Information, opinion, and intention," he nodded.

You held his gaze for a moment, then rose to your feet. "I think we should go and talk to the others. Before they come looking for us."

Sukuna stood too. It was going to take him a while to get used to someone using 'we' and 'us' in reference to him. "I suppose there's nothing they could say that would allow me to massacre every one of them without breaking our agreement?"

The genuine surprise on your face at what you were ninety percent sure had been a joke irritated him. He didn't follow it up with anything. You led the way towards the more populated area of Shibuya. Or, you did for about ten seconds.

"This must be part of your act, sorcerer," Sukuna commented.

You looked at him in confusion. You didn't need to say anything for him to realise that it wasn't.

"Oh, for-" He cut himself off, jaw ticking. "This is ridiculous. You would move faster without legs."

And, before you could even register what was happening, one of his strong hands was grabbing hold of the back of your shirt, bundling it up in his grip. Sukuna lifted you off the ground effortlessly, keeping you roughly upright as he moved. He couldn't actually fly, but his speed and jumping height meant that he might as well have been able to.

"Where?" He barked.

You were on the brink of letting out an embarrassing squeal, your feet coming far too close to a rooftop for your liking. You managed to point in the direction of a junction, where you could see Kento and Suguru exorcising a cursed spirit. Sukuna dropped you back onto your feet. Neither of you mentioned it. You smoothed down your clothes and hoped you didn't look too stunned. He tried desperately hard to excuse that act of service as him avoiding an irritating wait.

Suguru and Kento had caught sight of the two of you now. They both looked incredibly wary. It wasn't until you saw Kento reach for his blade that you glanced over at Sukuna and saw the way he was walking.

"You-" You cleared your throat, then lowered your voice. You put it as neutrally as you could. "I think that passivity, or at least the appearance of it, is going to be the best strategy."

He looked at you. For a second, he genuinely looked like he was going to lean over and bite your had off. Then his expression shifted and he looked abruptly less threatening. His face still looked thunderous when he looked towards your friends, who had grown in number as the others joined them, but you knew any degree of softness was something to value.

You didn't have to tell him to fall back. Sukuna walked a pace behind you. He looked casual, but you were close enough to see his jaw ticking as you approached your friends. You shot them a small, tight smile.

"Hi."

They all listened in dead silence as you outlined roughly what had happened and what you'd agreed with Sukuna. He was quiet too. He made mental note of everything you missed out: the time you'd spent sitting together discussing the truth about yourselves, the equality in your partnership, the benefits you'd told him. It wasn't until you'd finished and then paused to make sure there was nothing else you wanted to say that you added,

"And he's under my protection."

That comment was the one that broke the dam. Kento sat up in his chair. Suguru's eyes flicked from you to Sukuna. Satoru laughed and then mumbled something unintelligible that sounded a lot like, 'oh, fuck.'

"Well, we need to remedy this," Kento said once everyone had settled down.

Suguru leaned forwards. "The prison realm is a viable option."

Kento nodded. ""Imprisonment or some method of limiting his cursed energy are the safest options."

A frown worked itself onto your face. Then, to Sukuna's amazement more than anyone else's, you shook your head. "No. No, none of them are options at all."

Satoru's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"The objective of the plan was to get him on our side so that we could ensure his strength isn't used against us." You gestured beside you. "He's on our side. He's not killing anyone. We got what we wanted from him, so why would we continue to treat him like a monster?"

Suguru cleared his throat. "It may have slipped your mind, but the King of Curses is literally a monster."

You crossed your arms over your chest, firmly standing your ground. "Well, you all told me to align myself with this 'monster.' This is the result of that. Those are not options."

Sukuna stared at you.

Oh, fucking shit. Shit.

Humans and sorcerers were fucking stupid. They were weak, and pathetic, and fickle. He was above them. He'd proven that time and time again. People like this didn't deserve to step foot in the same city as him, let alone stand a few paces away and discuss how they were going to restrain him.

But you. You were standing in front of the most powerful people in the jujutsu world. In front of your friends, your allies, the only people that had your back. And you were defending him.

It wasn't like you were some fierce, strong-willed sorcerer that feared nothing. He could tell that you were anxious about it. Your hands were trembling, that was why you had crossed your arms. Your voice was a little shaky, that was why you were speaking in short sentences. You didn't like having to be confrontational, especially against them. But you were doing it anyway. For him.

Sukuna took a step forward, so that he was properly standing beside you instead of slightly behind you. They all moved quickly, about to throw everything they had at him. Smoothly, Ryomen stuck his hands in his pockets and let out a soft, almost bored huff.

"If that's all you people have to say, I'm going to take my sorcerer and we're going to go do something more useful with our time. I am above this."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you straighten up, surprised by the fact that he was speaking, then by his words. Technically, he was breaking the agreement of participating in the negotiation. But he knew you wouldn't mind. To him, this was part of the agreement, too. He was defending you, like you'd defended him.

When all of your friends stood in silence, Sukuna spoke again. "Unless you would prefer for us to remain? There are plenty of civilians left in this part of the city. I'd be more than content to pick a few hundred off while you continue to-"

"No, no, no," Suguru interrupted. "No."

Sukuna hummed with false interest. "Oh, you don't want that?"

Kento's jaw ticked. "No, of course we don't want that."

Sukuna's hands came out of his pockets. Suddenly, he looked like he'd grown a foot. He looked genuinely furious, enough that even Satoru's eyes widened a little. "You better stand the fuck down then, hadn't you, pathetic sorcerers?" Your lips parted. "Back off and leave her alone, hm? She's done exactly what you've asked her to. It's not her fault that it doesn't look how you intended."

He glanced over at you as he realised how his intention to defend you had become a little more obvious. The look on your face wasn't hugely obvious, but he saw it anyway. You were surprised, despite everything. A little pleased. And...grateful. It was exactly the look his face had worn a few moments ago, when you had spoken up for him. Because it felt nice to have an ally, to know someone had your back.

Unsurprisingly, nobody tried to stop the two of you from leaving Shibuya. Sukuna lifted you again, with a little more care this time. You pointed him in the right direction until you reached your house. You couldn't think of anywhere else to take him, and both of you were more tired than you'd care to admit.

He set you down in the middle of the road. Both of you walked in an alarmingly comfortable silence. Sukuna didn't comment on anything or show even a hint of interest until you were pushing open a small gate and pulling a set of keys out of your pocket.

Then he blinked, looking up at the building in front of him. There was no doubt in his mind that this was your home. And, despite the snarky voice in the back of his head that wanted to mock your human dwelling place, he couldn't stop thinking that this was a little intimate, a little familiar. He didn't feel like he should be standing behind you while you fiddled with your keys. He didn't feel like he should have been the one that made sure the gate was closed behind him.

He didn't feel like he should be acting like this version of himself here.

"Show me your dwelling place, then, woman."

You dropped your keys. Sukuna glanced at you. The action itself didn't amuse him, mostly because it irritated him that even dropping the King of Curses act didn't mean you weren't scared of him. What did amuse him, though, was that you didn't bend over to pick them up, you just rested your hand over your face and groaned.

"Sorry," you muttered, "that really took me by surprise."

Sukuna watched you, watched the back of your hand. Then he bent down and picked up your keys. It took him a few tries to figure out how exactly to work the lock, but he did it. Your hand fell away from your face at the first clink of metal on metal, and you watched him until he pushed the door open.

"Thank you."

He looked at you, surprised by the weight of your words. Then he nodded slightly. He looked away, because he didn't like the way that made him feel.

You took the keys back, dropping them into the dish. Then you turned on the living room light and stepped into the house. Sukuna didn't step in.

"May I step over the threshold?"

You looked at him in surprise, already midway through taking off your shoes. "Oh- Yeah, come in. I guess you'll be here for a while." You hesitated and he could almost see you dropping an act, too. Not as big of an act as his, but an act nonetheless. "Um- I hope that it's okay. It's no... palace, or whatever a King of Curses lives in."

He shut the door behind him, taking off his shoes as he looked at you. "I don't live anywhere."

Your eyes bored into his for a long few seconds. And then, when you smiled, it was a genuine smile. "It's step up from that, at least."

"Yes, I suppose it is." Sukuna nudged his shoes out of the way, then rested his hands on his hips. "I told you to show me your abode, didn't I?"

You nodded. "What do you mean, though? A.. Like a tour?"

"Show me everything," he said simply.

You were silent for a moment. Then you led him through the house, towards the bedroom. That seemed like the safest bet, since you couldn't see how a bed and a wardrobe could have changed too drastically.

You pushed your bedroom door open and flicked on the closest lamp. "This is my room," you told him, stepping aside so he could walk in too.

Sukuna didn't clash with the room as much as you had expected. Especially when he casually walked over to your drawers and started tugging them open. You watched for about three seconds before registering that he was rifling through your underwear.

"Wh- That's-"

He glanced at you as you approached him. "Don't tell me that you're a weak sorcerer and a prude."

You scowled, but his words didn't sting much at all now. "It's my underwear."

"You're a prude," he retorted. But he shut the drawer. "Explain the blinking lights."

You looked at him. "What?"

"The lights that you non-verbally command," Sukuna elaborated. When you still looked clueless, he waved at the lamp. "Foolish woman."

You hummed. "Oh, lightbulbs. Um... electricity."

"An overwhelmingly helpful response."

You walked back over to the lamp, lifting the wire. "It's a current of energy, kind of, and it flows through wires and into things. And then you can switch it on or off. And you can die if you touch the current directly."

"Why are you handling it with such nonchalance, if you may die at any second?"

"Because it's protected by the wire." You dropped it anyway, suddenly struck by the fear that you would get electrocuted. It was stupid, but he sounded so confident that you half-expected your body to start convulsing. "Anyway, that's all there really is in here."

Sukuna didn't respond. He made his way around your room, inspecting everything. He spent a while looking at your posters and photos. It was pretty obvious that he had no idea what to make of them, but he didn't say anything. Once he was done, he pointed towards the door.

"Reveal the next room to me."

You showed him the bathroom. He had the basic understanding of what things were, even if they were much more advanced now. He flushed the toilet three times before he noticed you were trying to suppress a smile. Still, he couldn't help marvelling at all the small elements of human life that he'd never experienced before. He pointed at things and you told him what they were, and he seemed pretty content with the activity thus far.

"That."

"Toothbrush."

"That."

"Vitamin supplement."

"That."

"Rubber duck."

"That."

"Shower- No, no, no-"

Sukuna leaned forwards and turned the shower on. His eyes widened as water shot straight at him. You gasped, leaping over to try and help. His hand was still over the knob, so you had to lean into him to tug it off.

"No, you have to turn-"

"I am turning, your shower is broken-"

"It's not broken, you're turning the wrong-"

"It is not the wrong-"

"The shower-"

The stream finally stopped. You leaned back, soaked through and a little breathless. You looked at Sukuna. He was soaked too, his robe clinging to his skin. His pink hair was darkened and heavy with water. Then, before you could stop yourself, you were laughing. Sukuna let out a soft huff, but he couldn't hide his smile.

He knew he should be warier of you than he was. Nobody had ever gained his trust, let alone this quickly. He didn't like anybody, but he was catching himself feeling a strange fondness as he watched you. And you knew that he could kill you on a whim, regardless of the binding vow. But neither of you can help it.

"Maybe we should change before we continue the tour?" You suggested after your laughter died down.

"Yes, I agree."

Sukuna changed into one of your biggest oversized shirts and a pair of sweatpants that were just about baggy enough for him. He swiftly forgot about his new human clothes, though, because he stepped into the living area and saw you wearing your pyjamas. You were wearing little shorts with a simple oversized shirt. Something about it was so domestic and sweet that he actually stopped walking for a second, having to force his feet forwards.

"Rise, woman, and show me the next room."

You turned, eyes lighting up at the sight of him in your clothes. You held back any comments, though. You rose to your feet and showed him into the kitchen.

Sukuna interrogated you about every single appliance, from the fridge to the coffee maker. You answered them all patiently. There was no laughter now. That amusement had faded into something else. Neither of you were acknowledging it. It felt heavy, like the air between you was weighed down by something. Both of you were too wary of what it might be to actually turn around and mention it. You weren't even addressing the easy comfort of what you were doing right now.

"And this is the lounge," you finished, arms spread out.

Sukuna watched as they fell back to your sides. He prowled around the room, inspecting everything. "What's the black box?"

You reached for the remote and turned the television on. "Television."

"Its purpose?"

"Uh, entertainment, I guess. You can watch stuff or play games on it." You turned the television off.

Sukuna sniffed a candle, then glanced at the couch. It looked comfortable, and he was getting tired. But he didn't know what the protocol was. He didn't want to offend you, not now. He kind of liked that you trusted him, and he didn't want to fuck that up. So, like he had earlier, he asked.

"May I sit, woman?"

He absolutely hated the look of surprise on your face as you looked at him, but he loved the way you smiled at him, nodding. Your hands were clasped together as you watched him sit down. He made sure to sit comfortably, even though he was unsure if you were watching him like that because you were worried about his comfort, or if it was something else. When he was comfortable, he glanced up. You were sitting down beside him, cross legged.

It felt right.

"Why did you let me catch you in your domain? The second time?"

He was taken aback by the sudden question for a second. But then he saw your curious face and he realised you'd probably been wondering that for a while now. He thought about it for a while. Then he hummed.

"There's not a deep answer to that."

"I don't mind if it's not deep. Just the truth."

He shrugged slightly, resting his arm along the back of the couch. "I got bored."

You looked at him. You weren't really surprised by his answer. You were friends with Satoru, and although he wasn't as strong as Sukuna, you knew that being that overpowered wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

He continued. "I'm strong. I've done more than your measly brain can fathom. Lived multiple lives. I'm fucking bored."

"Oh, I understand that," you nodded. "I'm no King of Curses, obviously, but it does sound familiar in a way."

Sukuna looked at you. You were right, you weren't a King of Curses. You didn't have his power running through your veins. But he was starting to wonder if he'd been wrong to take that to mean you were any less strong than he was.

And, as you looked down at your hands, thinking about his words and clearly thinking about your own experience, he realised that he already knew you enough to guess at what was stopping you from speaking further. What had you said to him when you were goading him into the trap?

'Because you can ease your inferiority complex.'

You looked like you felt lesser, too. Maybe you weren't having a whole millennia-long thing about it, but he could see the insecurity there. Sukuna wanted to see inside you. In the same way that you had revealed your home to him. He took a breath, then told you so.

"Your secrecy irritates me. Reveal your thoughts."

Maybe it came out harsher than he meant it too, but he still said it.

You looked at him for a second. Then you turned to face him properly, hands resting in your lap. And you told him.

You told him about the stupid worries. About how you were terrified of spiders, about the random and irrational fears you had. You told him about the tiny hiccups in your everyday life. About that lady on the bus last week that gave you a funny look. About how a friend of yours owed you a dinner because you'd let him sleep on your couch again. About how you were always worried about something or other, even when there was nothing to be worried about. About how you always scuff your shoes because you focus on not looking at the ground but then get distracted by the sky or the trees or the birds.

And then you paused, self-conscious about how long you'd spoken for and who you were saying it all to. But then you realised that he was listening like this was important information. That he cared so much that it was shining through even though he was trying to pretend otherwise.

He raised his eyebrow slightly. "Did I ask you to stop talking?"

You hesitated, then opened your mouth again. "And I have a lot of stupid insecurities, too. About stuff that I know doesn't matter and that nobody else probably thinks about so hard."

"Like?" He prompted impatiently.

And so you told him that, too. Stuff that you hadn't told anybody, that you'd only admitted to yourself properly in the last few years. It was so surprisingly easy to tell him. He didn't seem like the King of Curses anymore.

Sukuna listened to every word you said, storing it carefully away in his mind. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to ridicule you for your stupid, petty concerns. Demand why you care about the look you'll get from a stranger if you wear a skirt that's a few inches shorter than usual, when there are bigger things to be concerned with.

But he found himself paying close attention to you as you spoke. And he started to want to murder that store owner that looked at you funny with you dropped your card. And he kind of wants to take you out and spend an infinite amount of time helping you try on clothes until you figured out what you felt most comfortable in. And he wanted to take you to get those two cats you've been wanting for so long and let you decide whether they really will solve so many of your problems.

Because they're stupid concerns. Things that never have and probably never will enter his head. But, the more he listens to the lilt of your voice, the more he notices the little expressions that cross your face and that little habit you have of getting side-tracked but coming swiftly back to the point, the more he kind of does understand it.

Sukuna did have his concerns about how he's perceived. They're mostly rooted in whether or not people are frightened of him, sure, but they're there nonetheless. So he kind of got that part of it. And he was sure that, if he made a fool of himself in front of some lowly humans, he'd be thinking about it weeks later, too.

But he didn't think you should.

Your self-conscious laugh interrupted his thoughts. He focussed on you as you started to speak again.

"Sorry, I know you probably think those are just... stupid, petty human concerns."

Sukuna didn't so much as crack a smile. He looked you directly in the eye and asked, "How would I generate human currency?"

You blinked at him. "Uh.. Wh-"

"How would I generate human currency?" He repeated.

You were silent for a long moment. Then you got over your surprise and offered a useful response. "Do you have any assets?"

Sukuna nodded. "I possess several estates and a few temples, both of which contain many artefacts. I asked you about human curre-" He cut himself off, staring at you in surprise. You looked back at him with wide eyes.

"Oh my god."

Sukuna raised his eyebrows. "What?"

You laughed. "Maybe I should help you sell all your properties and then steal half your money, since you have no bearing of the value of human currency." Even while you're joking, you're in disbelief. It made sense that he would be rich, but that rich? He was laughably wealthy.

Sukuna still didn't smile. "Why would you need to steal from me?"

You blinked. "Wh- I just mean because you must be very, very, very wealthy in terms of modern money."

"Most likely. I was wealthy in my era. Again, that isn't what I asked you." Sukuna's eyes flicked between yours. "I have no use for money. You can sell what assets I possess and take the money for yourself."

You looked at him for a second, then burst into laughter.

The arm that Sukuna had resting along the couch extended slightly. He hit you on the shoulder. "Don't fucking laugh at me, mortal."

You stopped laughing abruptly. "Oh my god," you say again.

"Will you stop saying that without due cause?" Sukuna snapped. "What is it that you're 'oh my god'ing about?"

"Do you- Do you not realise how much money that would be?" You asked him.

He shook his head slightly. "Enough, I imagine. How much?"

You're silent for a moment as you try to think of a way to quantify it. "It would be... millions and millions."

"Is that worth a lot?" Sukuna questioned. "You forget that this has no meaning to me, sorcerer."

"It would buy you, like... like, you could buy a whole castle. Multiple."

"Again-"

You shook your head. "I don't think there's any way of quantifying it. It's an obscene amount of money. Genuinely."

"Is it more than you currently possess?"

You laughed at that. "If money were animals, you would be, like, a humpback whale, and I'd be a fish. No, not even that. A crustacean. Maybe a barnacl-"

"I understand," he interrupted, "please end your nautical metaphor before I feel obligated to hurt you." You dutifully closed your mouth. "You will take the money. I have no use for it."

You shook your head. "No, I can't do that."

"I'm telling you to."

"But I still can't take it."

"I am the King of Curses."

"But we're equals."

"Tch." Sukuna glared at you for a second before he sighed exasperatedly. "If you are not being misleading about the value of my wealth, you would no longer have to even consider money. You could freely purchase your felines, new clothes, explore the worlds of your various hobbies as you'd like to. You could move to a quieter place. You could leave your permanent job as a jujutsu sorcerer and pursue only what you wish to."

As he spoke, you realised just how much attention he had been paying while you were talking. He hadn't just listened to your words, he had catalogued them, storing them away as though they really did matter to him. And now he was presenting a solution.

Why hadn't anybody just tried to talk to the King of Curses?

Why did he always kill everyone that got close, if he had so much attention to give?

Why were you the exception to his rule?

Sukuna finished talking and looked at you. He registered that you were just staring at him. He looked right back at you, waiting for the inevitable moment when you noticed that you were making eye contact and looked away, pretending not to have been staring.

But you didn't. Your eyes focussed on him and you swallowed, but maintained eye contact.

"Thank you, Sukuna," you said sincerely, voice warm and softer than it had been before.

He was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded. "You are welcome."

You smiled slightly. "Okay."

"Okay." He nodded again, and realised that he was well and truly fucked.

A silence fell over the two of you. It was a tense one, one that came because you'd both gotten a little too close to acknowledging that unspoken thing. You broke the silence.

"So, here's a problem that the King of Curses has never encountered-"

Sukuna interjected, mostly because he felt like he needed to remind you that he wasn't some soft best friend or something. "That is a bold and foolish assertion to make, foolish woman."

You laughed with a hint of nervousness. "Maybe, but I have one bed, and we agreed that we were equals, so.."

Sukuna looked at you. And he said nothing. You cleared your throat, but he still didn't speak. He just looked at you in complete silence for an uncomfortably long amount of time. And then, abruptly, he rose to his feet. He walked briskly down the hallway towards your bedroom.

"Hey..." You protested weakly. Ultimately, if he decided to take your room, it wasn't like you could stop him.

But Sukuna was turning around, arms crossed. "Are you coming, or not?"

You blinked, then stood up, stumbling after him. Sukuna was already in your bedroom. When you joined him, he pointed at the bed.

"There's enough space. We will share." At the first sign that you were going to protest, he raised his hand. "No, I will not accept argument."

"Okay, we'll share," you agreed, with not as much reluctance as you felt like you should have had.

You took a few steps towards the bathroom. Sukuna's hand snapped around your wrist and he forced you back.

"You dare walk away from me?" He growled.

You blinked at him, then reached down and slid your hand into his. The gesture clearly surprised him because he didn't yank your hand away. "I was going to brush my teeth, actually." You walked towards the bathroom, silently amazed when he let you pull him after you.

You let go of his hand and reached for your toothbrush. Then you found a spare in the cupboard, handing it to him. Sukuna had seen a few forms of tooth hygiene during his time, from blackening to using willow brushes. The minty fluoride you were brushing your teeth with was entirely unfamiliar. But he trusted you in your little human endeavours, so he mimicked you.

"Oh, shit."

You looked at him in surprise. Sukuna had just finished brushing his teeth and he was wearing an expression of pleasant surprise. "What?" You mumbled through a mouthful of toothpaste.

"Had I been incarnated for longer, my breath would have stunk."

You couldn't help laughing at that. "Would you not have done it at all?"

"I wouldn't have known what the modern equivalent was," he replied. He glanced at you, then muttered, "I have you to thank."

You giggled. "Well, I'm glad I could show you the wonders of modern tooth hygiene."

"I didn't mean just about that."

You looked at him more seriously, recognising that he was trying to be sincere. Then you smiled. "I'm still glad."

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

that's part two! i hope you enjoyed an arguably OC sukuna. he is going to get a lot softer in the next (and final) part.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader

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whatsupwalnut · 3 months ago

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Painland Week Day 2: Myths/Legends

@ deathsankh: lmao does Edwin Payne rly think i cant see him 😂

@ deathsankh: poor kid’s been in hell for 73 years and he comes right back to school? NERD

@ deathsankh: omg he made a friend, i love this for him

@ deathsankh: his lil friend is cute but imma let them cook 🙏

@ deathsankh: bumped into the boys again today, they brought me an offering

@ deathsankh: little girl didnt know she was dead, poor thing

@ deathsankh: i can’t share deets (thanks hipaa) but she died in her apartment and she’s been stuck there for decades

@ deathsankh: they played a game with her and suddenly her soul is calling to me??? okay boys, go offff

@ deathsankh: they thought i couldnt see them BEHIND A DESK lmaooooo

@ deathsankh: these new kids crack me up

@ deathsankh: the dead boys are still in that apartment, they can’t hide for shit

@ deathsankh: 🏅 congrats to the worst to ever do it 🏅

@ deathsankh: they sent me two more souls in the past month and they’re still scared of me

@deathsankh: we’re colleagues now darlings, have fun out there 💅

@ deathsankh: stop, the little dead boys

@ deathsankh: im obsessed

@ deathsankh: they started a “detective agency” and ive gotten like 16 tributes from them so far

@ deathsankh: and get this

@ deathsankh: they’re calling it

@ deathsankh: THE DEAD BOYS DETECTIVE AGENCY 😂😂

@ deathsankh: like that’s not gunna attract attention from the afterlife

@ deathsankh: i put my contacts on notice, hands off unless they go thru me

@ deathsankh: the night nurse could be a problem but who’s gunna say no to me 💅

@ deathsankh: these boys are lucky i like they, they literally freed a ghost IN THEIR OFFICE tonight

@ deathsankh: like im not gunna sense them hiding on the windowsill 🙄

@ deathsankh: i should have said BOO right before i took Wilfred 😂 but u know im too profesh

@ deathsankh: i guess the dead boy detectives got spooked bc now they’re in port townsend???

@ deathsankh: BITCH IM EVERYWHERE 😂😂

@ deathsankh: i gotta call my girl Lilith, she was out there last time we spoke and it’s been too long

@ deathsankh: their little friend kinda reminds me of her

@ deathsankh: these boys stay getting themselves into situations ong

@ deathsankh: i cant talk specifics but that dad was a piece of work

@ deathsankh: im only sorry i couldnt get to him myself.

@ deathsankh: Lilith is Not Doing Well, please reach out if you have her info 🙏

@ deathsankh: shit is POPPING OFF in port townsend

@ deathsankh: why cant these kids take a proper holiday

@ deathsankh: night nurse is ON MY ASS like i don’t already know about this

@ deathsankh: she takes this shit too seriously lmao

@ deathsankh: YO

@ deathsankh: HELL????

@ deathsankh: HITTING UP MY CONTACTS ASAP @DESPAIR KEEP AN EYE OUT FOR A SAD NERDY KID IN UNDERWEAR YOU’LL KNOW THE ONE

@ deathsankh: oh shit what up @simonpages

@ deathsankh: Thank you to everyone who reached out to Lilith, including the dead boy’s little friend! She’s doing much better now and hell has a new resident :)

@ deathsankh: NOT LILITH lmao my bad 😂

@ deathsankh: the boys are out of hell but everyone is still sad??? they said their neighbor died but i didnt hear anything? mods????????????????????????????????????

@ deathsankh: this one is out of my jurisdiction gl out there boys 🫡

@ deathsankh: whole squad is back in London

@ deathsankh: the medium’s parents are annoying i need to give them a buzz…

@ deathsankh: NOT LIKE THAT u know i can’t take ppl before their time, but like…

@ deathsankh: they need a lil reminder that im coming :)

@ deathsankh: i gotta take the night nurse out for drinks bc she is STRUGGLING @ThePrincipal u crazy for this one queen 😂😂 girls night soon?

@ deathsankh: fr tho does nn think i look at all that paperwork bc LMAO

@ deathsankh: the tweedy one loves it tho have fun king

@ deathsankh: like im not gunna approve the asylum paperwork sksksksks

@ deathsankh: omg they got the news and the whole squad is crying in the club

@ deathsankh: even the night nurse lmao im never letting her live this down

@ deathsankh: maybe i shouldnt have delivered the news personally, i think i almost killed the boys again 😬 my bad yall

@ deathsankh: was anyone surprised the curly one kissed the tweedy one when i told them 😂

@ deathsankh: took them long enough tbh 😻

#season 1 from death's perspective #she's funny #painland week #dead boy detectives #payneland at the very end #this is my first fic ever #after 20 years of reading im finally starting to produce #or trying #this was inspired by a post i will link when i find it #that basically said what if death knows they're there the whole time #and is constantly updating the groupchat about their antics #but i dont know enough about the endless for all that #this piece is like if twitter was still cool #op #my writing

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separatist-apologist · 3 months ago

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The Thing About Mor

I'm gonna say this and then I'm gonna shut up about it.

I don't think it's necessarily the fandom's fault for the way they read Mor, just as a disclaimer. Nor am I saying you are required to like her. Please reread those sentences before we continue.

The thing about Mor is that she's originally set up to be both a foil to the traditionalism of the Spring Court and a counterpart to Feyre's friendship with Lucien. Feyre is immediately struck by Rhys naming not Cassian or Azriel- who seem terrifying to her- as his second in command, but Mor.

Mor is also placed directly between Cassian and Azriel in what I think was originally supposed to be some kind of love triangle for the three, with the ultimate pairing as Mor and Azriel. I think the narrative of ACOMAF sets Mor and Azriel up as potential mates just waiting on a snapping bond, with Cassian as maybe her first choice given how she slept with him as a teenager.

Throughout ACOMAF, we see Mor as someone who can hold her own against the men in her lives. When they go to Hybern, Mor is the only warrior left standing and is the one who ultimately rescues them. She's also the person Rhys trusts to get Feyre in the Spring Court (ignoring the strange "politics" of why Rhys' second-in-command can break into Tamlins manor but the High Lord can't).

She is ALSO the person who goes to Feyre once Feyre realizes Rhys wasn't honest about the bond, and she's the one who asks "would it really be so bad to join our family?"

I don't know what changed for SJM. I think the nessian of it all ended whatever potential love triangle might have happened with Cassian-Mor-Azriel, and I've heard rumors she was getting a lot of pressure to make her stories more diverse (who was asking SJM, of all people, to tell a compelling queer story?). Regardless, somewhere between ACOMAF and ACOWAR, Mor's trajectory changes.

This is seen so clearly with the rise of Eris who, up until ACOWAR, is an undisputed villain in the story. Not just Lucien's story, but the story as a whole. We're told he holds Jesminda down while Beron beheads her, and he participates in tracking Lucien down with the intent to kill him. He gleefully watched Lucien tortured in the second trial UTM, and is willing to give up Feyre's name to Amarantha IF he knew it.

And in the beginning of ACOWAR, Eris is still the villain. He chases Lucien and Feyre across multiple courts at the behest of his father, presumably to hold Feyre ransom back to Tamlin in exchange for who knows what, and see Lucien executed. Eris's cruelty on the ice sets up a truly cinematic moment for Cassian and Azriel to come swooping in and save the day, and once again highlights our good guys (Lucien especially) and our bad guys.

And I do feel like somewhere in this passage, SJM falls in love with Eris and begins to give him the Rhys treatment at the EXPENSE of Mor. Rhys, who we're told, respects Mor over nearly everyone, unilaterally decides that they're going to trust Eris. There is no discussion to be had here. I think this creates a specific moment for readers to be like, okay well if Rhys did this without talking to Mor, then maybe he doesn't trust her. I don't even think its an explicit thought- but implicitly, whatever Eris shared with Rhys is enough to convince him of Eris's goodness over Mor's hatred. And I think that lends itself to a lot of the "maybe she's lying" theories that come about, ESPECIALLY after ACOSF and Eris telling Cassian that there was more that happened than Mor has shared with them.

Additionally, Mor is supposed to oversee Hewn City which means this deal SHOULD have included her because Kier's Darkbringers are part of her jurisdiction, but unless I misremember, this deal is brokered by Rhys, Eris, and Kier. So Mor's position in Hewn City feels ceremonial-I think this is partly because SJM ascribes to a very narrow definition of masculinity and power, and even though Rhys claims to share it, what she shows us does not match with the telling. Rhys decides what happens in Hewn City and he can make decisions without Mor's input so what's she even doing down there besides acting like decoration?

This is also where, I think, a lot of people get frustrated and confused because the "court of dreamers" are sold to us as a family. And in the confession between Mor and Feyre, we suddenly learn Mor is afraid to come out to the people she claims are her closest family. In our current understanding of the world and what it often means to be queer, your found family are supposed to be your safe people, the people you can be unapologetically yourself with ESPECIALLY when your blood relatives reject you. And here Mor is, telling us she is too afraid to come out to the point she sleeps with men specifically to keep Azriel off her back (unclear how that's helping) AND to not arouse suspicion.

So like- it's not a leap to understand why the fandom writes Mor off as a liar or someone that can't be trusted because SJM has inconsistently applied her personality in order to suit her narrative versus telling a consistent story with consistent characterizations. The fandom is left to string it all together and creative a cohesive story and I do think the problem with that is we don't agree.

Interpretations of the text vary, so on one end you have "I think Mor is lying because the narrative, whether it means to or not, is implying Mor shouldn't be trusted. Rhys no longer trusts her and is keeping secrets for her, and its through Rhys we're told Eris CAN be trusted." and on the other its "Mor isn't responsible for the men around her and is held to a different standard than the other characters who are better fleshed out (in part because they're associated with a man)."

Again, a lot of this is speculation. I don't know what SJM's true original plans were, nor can I speak with 100% authority why she changed them. I can say that SJM is notorious, across all her works, for changing motivations and characterizations to fit her narrative and that ACOTAR feels the most egregious. I don't think she ever had a solid plan for ACOTAR beyond the feysand romance, and everything else has been slapped together based on how she feels in the moment, which leads to a lot of the arguments and frustrations we currently experience around most of the characters, honestly.

#it has been a long time since i wrote anything like this in the fandom- i had to turn the reblogs off the cassian one #I know we all joke that SJM will do whatever she wants regardless of her own set up story but like #i do think it becomes frustrating because it creates all these disjointed pieces #and it causes these arguments that get vented toward other fans vs the real villain (the author)#sjm critical

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ot3 · 1 year ago

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can i please hear your thoughts about franema. blease. i know they have something going on between them

oh yes yes.... franema happy to talk about it. for starters just everything about how ema behaves herself in aa4 makes me believe that would be some excellent yuri because bitch4bitch femslash is always so important.

in general though i think they're two people whose lives are very centered around their work (as much of the main ace attorney cast is) but they center their work extremely differently in a way i think would cause the other person to question a lot about their own perspective. I think a situation where two characters can really ruffle each others feathers just by existing in proximity has a lot of good ship fodder.

i think in many ways franziska is what ema wanted to be. she's a child prodigy, competent and excelling in her field and earning respect from a very young age. meanwhile when she's several years older than fran was passing the bar ema is still just a high school student just dipping her nose into forensic science for the first time. by the time she's in her mid 20s ema still isn't at the level of career success fran reached in her teen years, being stuck as a detective after failures to pass the forensics exams. and i think it's really worth paying attention to the fact that Detective was specifically the job that lead to her sister's life turning to shit, so i think the longer and longer she stays trapped in that position the more she's gonna start feeling like the walls of her life are closing in on her. i know we don't know where fran is at career wise during this point in the timeline but my personal headcanon is that she ends up doing a lot of work with interprol and primarily specializing in prosecuting cases that take place across various countries' jurisdictions, and has had good success doing so.

Then on the flipside I think Fran see's ema's fully self-motivated passion for forensics as something enviable and admirable. Fran is i think someone who has spent her entire life running through a treadmill of carrots and sticks that dictated what her life was going to be like since she was born. Obviously prosecuting is the family trade and she was started extremely young, then pitted against someone much older for the majority of her childhood. I think the ebb and flow of validation or disinterest from her peers and family was such an overwhelming motivator that she never had the chance to even consider whether or not there's anything she's passionate about. As an adult, i think she does come to find an honest passion in her career but it's nothing like what ema has, it can't be decoupled from external validation, and that's something she's come to understand as a bit of a weakness.

Then interpersonally i feel like since ema is much more personable and socially adjusted than fran, i could feel that being something she instinctively kind of leverages against fran to try and level their playing field. like, okay, franziska may be this bigshot famous prosecutor (just like edgeworth, who ema wants sooo bad to impress) but ema can find ways to embarrass, frustrate, or otherwise fluster her in social settings so that's totally the same as being intellectual equals right. right. right. (<- thoughts of a girl who is definitely being normal about the situation). but i feel like fran could kind of learn to be grateful for the lack of deference ema treats her with and it could be a real first step to them actually getting to know each other better.

i feel like they'd have a lot of similar opinions on the broader aspects of life. i think they'd both be fine with a more casual relationship that involves a lot of traveling for work and isn't particularly romantic by a lot of people's standards. and i think it would be fun for them to fuck each other. overall it just works imo. thank you for coming to my ted talk.

#long post #franema

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chiefdirector · 1 year ago

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Trust | Cisco Ramon | The Flash

no.3 isolation

When the holding cells were installed, they had been designed for temporary holding until the CCPD could take over the jurisdiction of the offenders. They hadn't been designed for long term holding but there wasn't much choice.

So (Y/N) remained in the cells.

At first it had been her choice, the presentation of her meta abilities had spiraled out of her control. Everything living she touched would wither away. She was thankful that she had realised this before touching another person. Only a few plants and a hamster had been victims so far, she didn't want to risk anything else from happening.

Caitlin had suggested she stay there whilst she ran some initial tests, but a few days had turned into weeks. Eventually, team Flash came down to see her less, occupied with other metas wreaking havoc across Central City. Hopelessness began to set it. The mundanity of waiting for a cure had started to get to her.

She waited though, she waited, and waited, and waited some more. She knew that eventually he would give up and pull back like the others had. She was waiting to become another name in a sea of memories but it never came. The loneliness of missing her team played on her mind constantly.

The only other constant she had was Cisco. Everyday, like clockwork he would come down and sit with her. Some days they ate dinner together, or played chess (he would move her pieces for her), or just talk about whatever was happening in the city.

And this continued, on and on, until one night around 3am Cisco came sneaking down the stairs to her cell. Quietly as he could, he unlocked the door and slipped inside. Despite his best efforts though, (Y/N) pulled herself from her slumber.

She looked at him, bewildered to see him sitting in front of her. He had his legs crossed and looked up at her impatiently.

"Hey, come sit down."

"You can't-" She breathed, panic flooding her veins. "You can't be here."

Cisco just nodded, ignoring her complaints. "I had an idea. And you're gonna do it, okay?"

She looked at him incredulously, not believing what he was saying, just for the sheer stupidity of it all. She knew that he could be reckless with his ideas sometimes but this was a new kind of stupid. Even so, she was curious to what could have dragged him down here at this hour, she prompted him to continue.

"Right, every time you touched something, it had the capacity to hurt you. The plant you killed was holly, the leaves were sharp. You pricked your finger on it. And the hedgehog was... unfortunate, but the same thing happened. Maybe, your powers only work under threat, like a superpowered self defence."

"So... what are you doing here...?" she asked, hoping that he wasn't planning the incredibly stupid thing she thought he was. "You're not saying that i should..."

"Take my hand?"

"No!'

"Yes!"

"Absolutely not," (Y/N) exclaimed, trying to shuffle back from Cisco but was blocked by the wall behind her.

Cisco matched her movements and closed the distance between them, leaving only an inch wide gap. He held his hand out, palm side up for her to take.

"You can't be serious!"

"I totally am. Just trust me."

(Y/N) looked down at his hand, reaching forward to have her hand hover just above his. She held it there, contemplating her next move. If anything went wrong, she would surely be marked a criminal and a danger for the rest of her life, and rightfully so. She couldn't bare to hurt Cisco, but she also couldn't take the solitary cell anymore.

She looked up at Cisco, briefly matching his gaze before she closed her eyes and placed her hand in his

Masterlist | Whumptober Masterlist

@ailesswhumptober

#cisco ramon imagine #cisco ramon x reader #cisco ramon #the flash imagine #ailesswhumptober2023 #chiefdirector

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 2 months ago

Text

Solitary Man: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

Summary: You're feeling more like yourself for the first time in forever. You're not going to let anything spoil your good mood.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

"We're all sentenced to solitary confinement inside our own skins, for life." - Tennessee Williams

You feel good. For the first time since you got released from prison, you feel like the weight of the world isn't lying on your shoulders. You're still required to go to therapy until she deems you fit to be on your own but you're not dreading going to her anymore. You actually look forward to it. You feel safe in her office and feel like you can talk about anything without judgment. You trust Spencer with everything you're telling your therapist, but he's strictly Team Y/N and will side with you on anything. You need your therapist's unbiased opinion and advice.

You're sitting at your desk staring at your open notebook wondering what to write. You've rewritten every single nightmare you have besides the rape. You don't know what you can write that will make what happened better.

Spencer walks into the bullpen and sees you tapping the end of your pen on your notebook. He walks behind you and places a hand on your shoulder. You look up at him with a smile as he runs his fingers through your hair.

"Are you okay?"

"Doing better now."

"Why is that?"

"You."

Spencer leans down and kisses you Spider-Man style, one of your favorite positions.

"Come on, we have a case."

You leave your notebook at your desk before following Spencer to the briefing room where everyone else is. There is already a picture of the most recent victim and her crime scene.

"Her name was Tanya Hill. She was twenty-nine and a bartender. She was found two days ago in Edgewood, New Mexico. She's the fifth woman in over six months to be found dead in a ditch off the I-40 and I-25," JJ explains. "All were manually strangled and none were sexually assaulted."

"Well, maybe the act of strangulation is what gets him off."

"Where were they abducted from?" Emily asks.

"All over."

"Well, they're not just crossing state lines. These cities are hundreds of miles apart," Derek says. "That's a lot of bodies. Why is it taking so long to be invited?"

"We haven't been invited. We found this on the HSK database," Hotch says.

The HSK is the Highway Serial Killer database. With someone crossing state lines like this, they don't belong to one county or jurisdiction, therefore, landing themselves on the HSK database.

"Well, a lot of police departments won't want this problem," Derek says.

"The geographic profile shows that only one of them has it. They just don't know it yet."

"How do you know that?" Rossi asks Spencer.

"Because he has a comfort zone based on the direction he was heading when he dumped the bodies. All five cases point to our unsub heading to Edgewood."

"Now so are we."

You make sure to pack your notebook in your go-bag before heading to the jet with the rest of the team.

"Clearly this unsub doesn't care about his victims being found," Derek says once the plane is in the air, "or he knows he can't be linked to them."

"The ME report supports that first theory. Matching DNA was found on all five victims but not in any database. It's also in keeping with the victimology and abduction sites."

"Which is what?" Emily asks your boyfriend.

"Target rich and offender-friendly."

"The time of death from the time of abduction varies dramatically in each case. Some lived twelve hours, others twenty-four before they were killed."

"What's he doing with them?" JJ asks.

"He's not having sex with them. There are no signs of torture or even restraints. What was the matching DNA?"

"Skin," Emily answers Derek. "That and metal shavings were found under the fingernails of all five victims. Tanya only had one nail left. It looked like whatever she was in, she tried to claw her way out."

"JJ, have Garcia match victimology and abduction sites to HSK findings for the last year," Hotch says and she nods. "If he sticks to this timeline, Edgewood is about to discover another body."

As soon as the plane lands, you, Rossi, and Spencer go to Tanya's dump site, Hotch and Emily go to the ME's office, and the rest go to the police station to get set up. The cars whiz by you on the highway and you admire the way they are going about their lives without a single inclination that there is a dead body here. Sometimes, you wish you could be them.

"So, she was abducted thirty-two-point-nine miles west of here, which means if they drove the speed limit, they got here in thirty minutes or less," Spencer says.

"So, how long's it gonna take either of you to get in that ditch?" Rossi asks.

"Get in that ditch? I got shot in the knee, remember? My doctor said I'm not allowed to do any climbing."

"It's a ditch."

"New boots, huh? Italian leather?"

"I'll do it," you roll your eyes playfully.

You carefully slide down the hill before reaching the place where the body was found. She's not there anymore but you can see the remnants of her using the energy she left behind. She is lying in the fetal position, hiding from anyone who passes by her.

"From here I can be seen by any passing vehicle," Rossi says.

"I can't. She was dumped at night so he wouldn't be seen by anyone."

"He drives up, dumps the body, and leaves. Job done," Rossi says.

"I don't think so," you shake your head.

"Why?"

You kneel down next to the woman and study her features. If you didn't know any better, you'd think she was sleeping.

"All five victims were found posed in the fetal position with their right arm palm-up and left arm palm-down. It's almost child-like and comforting like what a parent would do for their child."

"Do you have any ideas why he'd stage them this way?"

"No." Rossi nods and walks away, leaving you alone with Spencer. He starts to move down the hill to help you back up but you put a hand up to stop him. "Don't you dare. I got this." When you get closer to the top, you take Spencer's hand so he can help you the rest of the day. "I'm going to rub mud all over his shoes later."

As you're walking back to the car, your phone rings. Spencer rubs your arm before continuing, leaving you alone to take the call. You smile when you see your dad's name and picture.

"Hey, Dad!"

"Hey, sweetheart. I have some time, I figured I could come down to you and hang out. I'm sorry I haven't been available since you got released. I have been super busy with work and the kids."

"I'd like that but I'm in New Mexico right now on a case."

"You're still with the FBI? They let you come back?"

You don't know why but that question makes your skin crawl.

"Yeah. I'm innocent. They saw that." Your dad doesn't answer to that. "Are you okay?"

"Peachy," he grits out. "Again, sorry, I'm under a lot of stress."

"Yeah, I get it. Look, if you're still available, I'd love to hang with you once I'm back in Virginia. I can bring some of my friends so you can meet them."

"Your FBI friends?"

"Dad, stop it. You'll love them. JJ is like my best friend, and Penelope is super quirky and fun. Emily is a bit intense but you'll come to like her."

"Great! Can't wait! I'll bring your mother. I'm sure she'd love to meet them, too."

It's like as soon as you mentioned they are girls, his mood brightened. He doesn't like Derek and Spencer but you're not sure why. You say your goodbyes and walk to Spencer and Rossi who are already in the car. You don't mention this to Spencer knowing it will only upset him.

Hotch called Rossi to explain to him what he and Emily found at the ME's office. Yes, to be considered a serial killer, there has to be more than one body but if you look at a slightly larger area than just Edgewood, there are five bodies--all strangled, all staged, and all dumped. The fact that all bodies seem to be heading toward Edgewood, Hotch thinks that this place has to mean something to him like he grew up here or he lives here now.

Not only did Tanya have evidence found by DNA and metal fragments under her fingernails, but she also had diesel fuel on her clothing. Now, that's not unusual since she was found on a highway, and a lot of semis drive by it. However, all of the victims had table sugar rubbed on their clothing. Table sugar, well-known by truck drivers, is used to absorb diesel fuel.

That's how he's transporting them.

You know another murder is coming but didn't know it'd come so close after arriving in New Mexico. Not only is there another murder but a witness was left behind. You and Derek break away from the main group to investigate it with Sheriff Frank Sanders. He struck in the middle of the night at a rest stop that's now crawling with police.

"Garcia says there are seven hundred and eighty-two truckers working and living in this county," Derek says.

"That's too many. We have to narrow down the specific routes."

The sheriff leaves the witness' side and walks over to you and Derek. The witness left behind was the daughter of the woman who was kidnapped.

"The daughter, Courtney, confirmed that he was definitely driving a big rig. She wasn't able to make out any logos or see the plate."

"I'd like to talk to her," you say. You're about to follow the Sheriff when you look into the treeline to your right. There is a woman standing there but she isn't alive. "Derek, this is a dump site. The mom was an opportunity kidnapping. Check the woods. There's a body out there."

Derek doesn't have to question you and calls forth some officers to help him with the sheriff. You walk over to the daughter who is sitting on a picnic bench with an officer. He leaves to give you two some privacy and you sit next to her.

"Hi. My name is Agent Y/N. I'm with the FBI and we're going to do everything we can to help bring your mom back. Now, can you tell me anything about the semi you saw? Any distinguishing marks?"

"I wasn't looking. I was texting. I heard a truck start. When I went to the bathroom, she was gone. How are you gonna find her?"

"There's a good chance he's gonna stay in Edgewood."

"Why wouldn't he just run?"

"Because he always comes back to Edgewood. Your mother is the first woman he's taken from here."

"We were just driving through. We live in Phoenix. Mom was just trying to get me home so I could go to tryouts. You have to find her. She's all I have," Courtney cries.

"You should come down to the station." your phone rings and it's Derek. "Excuse me." You step off to the side and answer it. "Hey, where are you?"

"You were right. There is a body. Go south into the woods. You need to see this."

You excuse yourself from Courtney and walk over to the spot where the sheriff and Derek are. You look down and see the woman you saw standing by the tree line. You kneel next to her and put your hands out, not touching the body. You close your eyes and allow her energy to paint a picture of her final moments. She's inside a metal room. She's terrified. She claws at the walls but she can't get out.

"She was trapped inside a metal room. I don't know if the walls are made of metal or if there was some kind of aluminum shield like what you'd use to keep heat out." You look down and see what's underneath her fingernails. "She has metal shavings underneath her fingernails. He comes here to dump her body and stumbles upon Nancy. He didn't wait a minute between victims, and he left her daughter as a witness."

"What's going on here?" Sheriff Sanders asks.

"That's what we need to find out."

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds series rewrite #criminal minds season 5

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captainsophiestark · 25 days ago

Text

Jurisdiction

Jack Thompson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober, and for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Requested by Anon!

Fandom: Marvel

Day Seventeen Prompt: "Strangest thing I ever heard."

Summary: Jack's meeting one of his SO's oldest friends, who just so happens to work for the FBI. Unfortunately for all of them, sometimes the job has to take priority.

Word Count: 1,115

Category: Fluff

A/N: Okay, officially *this* is the closest I've come to missing a Friday lol

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"You're never gonna believe the case I just solved."

I grinned, humoring my long-time friend as he leaned across the table and closer to me.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. So we were trying to track down this group-"

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything."

My friend, Robert, and I both turned at the sound of someone behind us. I smiled immediately. Chief Jack Thompson of the New York SSR had finally arrived.

Jack and I had worked together for a long time, and now we'd been dating for the better part of a year. We'd been trying to set up times for meeting each other's important friends and family, but it had been incredibly complicated trying to work around our schedules at the SSR, especially since we weren't really supposed to tell anybody about our jobs.

Robert was one of the last people in my circle that Jack hadn't met. We'd grown up together, and while I'd found my way to the SSR, Robert had built up a career with the FBI. He had no idea what I did for a living, but I knew plenty about what he did.

"Glad you could make it," I said, fixing Jack with a smile as he took a seat on the other side of me. He planted a kiss on my temple, then reached out and offered a handshake to Robert.

"Jack Thompson. Nice to finally meet you."

"Likewise," said Robert, taking his hand with a grin. "You're just in time to hear about the case my boys and I just finished up. It was a doozy."

"Yeah, I heard you were with the FBI. That's real impressive," said Jack, his voice dripping with sarcasm that only I caught. I gave him a subtle elbow to the side, but he ignored me.

"Thank you," said Robert, nodding solemnly. "Like I was saying, we were trying to track down this group we thought was smuggling weapons into the country through a port in Maine. And we found the guys we were looking for, found their operation just like we'd been expecting. But they weren't smuggling weapons."

Jack and I both raised an eyebrow, leaning forward as Robert did. He lowered his voice for dramatic effect.

"They were smuggling technology."

I raised an eyebrow, and beside me, Jack leaned even further forward.

"It was all kinds of crazy stuff," Robert continued. "I can't tell you guys most of it, since neither of you has clearance, but... it's the kind of thing that would knock your socks off. I'm talking minature engines that can just hover about a foot in the air, some crazy glowing stuff that none of us have been able to identify yet... and that's just the tip of the iceberg."

"Wow," I said, playing it up a little bit out of politeness. Robert grinned and nodded.

"I know, right? I mean, can you even believe it?"

"Strangest thing I ever heard," Jack agreed, sounding anything but floored. At the SSR, we saw stranger things than that almost every week. "You said stuff that glows? What kind of stuff? What kind of glow?"

"I really shouldn't be telling you guys this, but so far, it seems like some kind of chemical mix just sitting in a little ball, waiting for who knows what to activate. It's been a few days since we caught all this stuff, and the glow hasn't gone down even a little bit."

Jack hummed next to me, leaning even farther forward and dropping his arm from around my shoulders. I could tell he wanted to drill down on exactly what Robert had found, and I didn't blame him. But before he got the chance to ask followup questions, the waiter came over to take our orders.

By the time we'd put in our requests, Robert was apparently ready to move on from his work stories. Jack fidgeted next to me, but still, he let it go. The three of us talked about life, told (non-work) stories, and laughed over lunch and drinks. By the time things were winding down, Robert had a massive smile on his face, and he shook Jack's hand again as we got up to leave.

"It was a real pleasure meeting you, Jack. I'm glad to know my friend found someone so wonderful to spend time with."

"It was great meeting you, too," Jack said. I noticed his smile was a little more forced, but Robert apparently didn't clock it as he turned to give me a hug.

"Good to see you. I know we're both pretty busy, but let's not go this long without seeing each other again, okay?"

"I completely agree."

We shared a smile, then Robert gave Jack and I one last little wave before hustling off down the street. I turned back to Jack with a sigh and a smile.

"Well, that was fun! And I think Robert really likes you."

"Yeah, but I don't know for how much longer." Jack ran a hand through his hair, and I raised an eyebrow at him.

"What do you mean?"

"How do you think Robert would feel if I claimed jurisdiction on his case?"

I gasped, and then grimaced. What Jack was saying made perfect sense—everything Robert had told us sounded right up the alley of the things we dealt with for work.

"Now I know what that face you kept pulling was about," I said. Jack scoffed, and I put my hands on my hips. "I don't think Robert would take it very well, honestly. But... we did say we wanted to see each other more often. And taking over his case would certainly accomplish that."

That got Jack to fully laugh. He put an arm around my shoulders, and the two of us started the stroll back to our office.

"So does that mean you're on board with me talking to the FBI about the SSR getting jurisdiction over all that stuff they found?"

"I mean, yeah. Robert and I will work it out, and it'll be nice to have a reason to tell him what I really do for work. Besides, he's great, but... even in the few minutes we were chatting, it was pretty clear the FBI aren't equipped to handle this."

"No, they're not. Glad we can agree."

"Who knows, maybe this'll even work out in our favor? Robert will see us working so well as a team solving his case that he'll be even happier than when we finished lunch."

Jack laughed again, and after a moment, I couldn't help joining him. Robert was in for quite a shock the next time he saw Jack and I. I might actually have to recruit Peggy or Daniel to take a picture for posterity.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen @misshale21

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @infinetlyforgotten @sagesmelts @gaychaosgremlin

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hum-suffer · 5 months ago

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The tea about the blogs who only post abt girls pls giveeeeeee pls pls pls plss some of use are oblivious

Girllllllll sit sit we have some tea

Okay so here's the thing, in that particular post, I was mostly talking about a singular person and not too many other people. Dekho, we all know how most boys on Tumblr are. The whole "I liked this girl and I don't have her anymore and I'm upset about it"? (Not talking about the rare pookie boys ofc ofc) (my guy included in the pookie boys because he's my pookie)

So, i suddenly saw this one blog on my dash. He was saying something and comparing girls between the ICSE and CBSE boards about their "hotness". It was very derogatory but I ignored it because ofc we've seen it all huh? Then, because I'm a curious bitch, I opened the tags. I kid you not, the tags were "#desiblr #desi Tumblr #desi girls #desi academia.......#narendra modi"

Now. You all know me. I'm a petty bitch. I laughed at the thing, knowing he's using the last tag for reach since it was fairly after the elections results. I scrolled a bit, and saw another post, something about how girls crowd jhumkha stalls but never buy it. It sounded extremely derogatory. I checked the tags, now for the fun of it. Lo and behold. "#Narendra Modi." Now, i don't claim to be an expert on a lot of things but I'm pretty sure our Prime Minister doesn't have jurisdiction over this particular topic.

I let it be and even forgot about it. Then, I saw another post and that was my leash snapping. The same person, had posted something about how he was talking to this Tumblr hot girl but now that he's talked to her, he doesn't find her hot anymore. Not with the "#Narendra Modi" because the guy didn't want that particular post to be famous.

As any reasonable girl on Tumblr does, i stalked his profile. First of all, even his bio was arrogant. Now that wouldn't do. But. Every post was about girls. Each. One. Of. Them.

Girls with jhumkhas, girls with laal saree, girls on Tumblr. You name it, he said it. And then. The proverbial last straw. I saw a post where he was flexing ki a girl who has "no DMs" in her bio is pleading in his DMs.

I saw some other blogs noticing the same thing too, so i knew I wasn't the only one reading too much into this.

Fir aur kya? I made a post, hoped that he'd understand and stfu.

#desiblr #suffer ye suhana nahi #desi tumblr #qna?

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fountainpenguin · 3 months ago

Text

Riddle watches New Wish - Post #9

I like how Hazel seems to be making friends one at a time! I feel like most shows introduce friends as pre-established, or they become friends in the first episode. Hazel seems to be gathering them over time, which is great.

Why is he even allowed to HAVE those drones?

... Shout-out to Wynn (sp? I don't dare look since I'm avoiding spoilers) for having freckles on only one cheek. Definitely unique for this universe.

-> I lied.

I really like how Wanda has stuck to calling Hazel "squirt." It's super fitting for her.

FATHER TIME!! He's back! ... No dad jokes this time.

SLDJKFSLDKFJSKLDFJSLKDJFSDKLJFSKLD run that by me again?!?!?!

Father Time: "This wish involves 15 minutes of fame. That's a time. Therefore, it is under MY jurisdiction." Cosmo: Oh, there was a whole lawsuit a few years ago. The Poofpreme Court had to get involved."

"Timmy's Secret Wish" LIVED!! We are eatin' good tonight!!

Dev's little leggies...

Is this the first time Cosmo and Wanda have been in object form other than Hazel's bubble popper things?

slkdfj Hazel's shirt belonged to her brother. Everything in this girl's life revolves around a brother we've not yet seen. Love that for her. That's gonna be a great episode.

-> What if he comes back and he's changed a lot because he's been away at college? Ruh-roh...

Oh, Father Time's back and making dad jokes again.

Nick of Time!! I love her. The coach aesthetic was a good touch. Instant new favorite. I have the PERFECT place for her in 'fics.

I think it's funny that Cosmo and Wanda's running gag is talking about things they did on their 10k-year vacation since one of the things they did in the OG series was talk about how they'd been married 10k years.

Hazel speeding through her remaining time with a song montage is very funny.

I've seen that rat design. Where have I seen that rat?

SLDKFJSLDFJSLDFJSLKDFJ MY SON!!!!!

I know him!! He's canonically a dad now?? ... I was already writing him as a dad, but now it's justified.

Flappy, what have they done to you? Where are your parents?? Was the Musical all for naught?

Listen. Listen, I know they would never do this because it was such a one-off thing. but... Flappy used to carry Gary and Betty in his briefcase and it was so weird. I'm gettin' flashbacks.

I liked that episode! That was great.

28 Puddings Later

I like how Violin Gal is a recurring gag.

Why are they teaching 12 minus 1 in 5th grade- Oh, they're simplifying fractions.

Timmy is on even more posters in this school- What did he do? This isn't even his city.

Pudding-eating episode going a zombie movie route was not on my list. Fantastic. I'm glad Cosmo and Wanda's crowns glow in the dark; it's great.

Hazel not wanting to unwish her infinite pudding wish because she hasn't gotten any yet is super clever and justified.

Jasmine: I am once again sus of my BFF Hazel and her connection to weirdness.

Okay, with the lights off in the halls, this is a lot more difficult on my hemophobia... I don't think I'll be sharing screenshots I might run across later, though I definitely think Dev's zombie pose is great.

Holy cow, that's a lot of red lighting on the pudding. I don't think I'm watching this one again, but I'm enjoying the plot itself.

We are once again treated to a photo proving they have 2D bodies in this universe, and it once again cracks me up.

Many, many brown-eyed characters! They're free from the curse...

This is what reality is like when you jump the border to Retroville. Everything looks bulgy, but in reality... you're still flat. I especially like how reality morphs to fit the FOP style, like the pink hair flipping around. I think I've seen someone with their haircut like that in the old show, though I forget who, so that would imply they wear it like the first picture.

Unreasonably funny to me that Dev's glasses shine - usually a classy blue - becomes much duller when it switches to "actual FOP style." His coolness factor drops. I love it.

... His hair REALLY reminds me of his dad's. I distinctly remember Dale's being fluffy, which is why he looks like the pixie godkid listed in Da Rules, but... Dev's got the same "front flare." I'm gonna look it up.

-> Oh, "Nectar of the Odds" is Season 2, not 3. I did not remember that. Also, Dale's hair is a little more orange than I remember, and he really does have dark blue eyes. I can absolutely see the similarities between him and Dev. That's fantastic.

... I am just now remembering I think I have a character outline for Dale in my Along the Cherry Lane draft. Let me see...

SLDKJFSLDKFJ, I did! I had him marrying Ed Leadly's daughter (the first FOP OC I ever made, Hadley) and having a son named Dave, which is very close to Dev.

I don't really know what to do with this information. I think I want to do less with this information. I'm so sorry, Hadley- maybe Dev will get a canon mom.

Well, Dev having red hair when you have black probably saved you, tbh.

She doesn't have her dad's black hair. I misremembered. It's brown. Uh-oh.

Anyway, I LOVE how Hazel saw her "ruined" class picture and was ecstatic because she knew her mom and brother would love how memorable it was. That's super cute. She's living a great life.

I don't know if I'd still call her miserable enough for a fairy, but she's adorable and I'm glad her life is going okay.

And still... he lurks.

Last one tonight! ... I didn't think I'd make it through this many before my bedtime, but okay.

Trial & Hair-or

I cannot believe we're getting the 2nd "living hair" plot (Hair with personality vs. hair with spirit), though I doubt this one will go the helicopter route.

Diana and Sparky would be great friends. I will not elaborate.

Crying, Hazel admiring her bald head and thinking it's cool. Her motivation for getting her hair back is so her hair doesn't cause chaos? She's so pure.

I hate them.

Just heard Hazel say Cosmo's name. Has she said Wanda's name often? I feel like their names haven't been repeated a lot for new audiences, but I also wasn't paying attention.

Fishbowl instinct...

This was a goofy episode and I loved it. Bedtime now. We'll see if I watch more throughout the week or just save it 'til after my big stuff on Friday. See you around!

#Riddle watches FOP #New Wish spoilers #Pending Hazel tag #Pending Dev tag #FAIRIES!#Dragonfly parents #Long post #screenshots #Get Flappy!#Hadley and Eryx #<- A tag I am shook to be posting here #Cherry lemon ship tag

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alltimefail-sims · 7 months ago

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I thought what you said about using Granite Falls as part of your Moonwood Mood storytelling was an neat idea. I would be interested to hear more about that!

Sorry it took me a minute to type up the response to this ask; I would absolutely LOVE to expand on this, thank you so much for asking!! I will warn you that this ended up being quite a longwinded explanation of my personal Werewolf world lore, so I'm sorry about that in advance! 🙈😂

Let’s get into it! ↓

I've talked about how I don't treat sim worlds as isolated entities in the past, but I've never gotten deep into that - I'll start there so my Moonwood lore makes sense!

Basically, I see Granite Falls as a location within Moonwood Mill. To go one step further, I actually don't even see Moonwood Mill as its own isolated "world" but rather as a small town within a bigger city within a bigger state within a country and so on. Think of Granite Falls as a large property within Moonwood Mill, and Moonwood Mill as an industrial, dying small town that is within driving distance to its larger city counterpart Evergreen Harbor, and all of these places exist in the same state. For me, the states these worlds are a part of are usually real-life states! Of course not all the worlds feel "American" to me (Selvadorada, Tomorang, Mt. Komerebi being perfect examples) but the ones that do usually get categorized this way in my mind.

For example: San Sequoia and Del Sol Valley are the easiest and most widely accepted representation of this idea. I treat both of these "worlds" as large, neighboring cities that exist within the same state, much like their assumed real-world counterparts Los Angeles and San Francisco which both reside in California. Another example is San Myshuno which I've seen a lot of players think of in the same way they see New York City, which resides in New York State. Moonwood Mill, Granite Falls, and Evergreen Harbor all function this way in my mind and would all share the same state! (I'm not a geography whiz, so I've never given it much though which irl state they would be a part of, but with the greenery, industrial, and dreary/rainy vibes my money would be on Washington or, alternatively, I personally see them being in a state that falls somewhere in the Appalachian area, like West Virginia!)

Okay, that's the long explanation I had to get out of the way before I jump into this next lore part... sorry! I'm getting to the good stuff now though, I promise!

Granite Falls and Moonwood Mill are on an even smaller scale than the San Sequoia/Del Sol Valley relationship, in my opinion. To me, Granite Falls feels like a national park or forest/nature preserve that surrounds Moonwood Mill and therefore ultimately falls under their jurisdiction. HOWEVER, the primary caretakers of Granite Falls are technically an independent commune... better known as "The Moonwood Collective."

I don't think there's enough room in the town center of Moonwood Mill to accommodate two whole wolf packs AND the handful of human locals that remain. Additionally, when you take into consideration the canon growing tension between these two packs and their various different ways of life, I have a hard time seeing them effectively coexisting in such close proximity. Besides that, Modern Moonwood Mill in its broken down, industrial, haphazard state suits the Wildfangs more than The Moonwood Collective - I can see the influence that the Wildfangs have had on the area, but where is The Collective's influence? Even the layout of Moonwood Mill and the lots which are located within walking distance of the rowdy dive bar screams Wildfang energy to me.

We also know that The Collective is much older than the Wildfangs, as it was formed back when Moonwood Mill was just beginning to have settlers and refugees who were fleeing from conflict (the big magical war between spellcasters/vampires/werewolves). Referred to only as "Moonwood" back then due to the area's obvious connection to the moon's energy, the founders of the town established The Collective - in the sims lore, it seems to imply that The Collective is the first pack of its kind to organize werewolves into a hierarchal structure with the goal of encouraging self-sustainability, diplomatic communication, and communal contribution within its wolf members. In my mind, I've always seen The Collective as people who reject societal comforts and embrace naturalism, self-discipline/emotional control, herbalism and holistic medicine practices, minimalist living, homesteading, community caretaking, things of that nature... and there really isn't anywhere in Moonwood Mill specifically that conveys that kind of influence. Granite Falls, however, sure feels magical with its sprawling plantlife and natural oddities... that is a place that could support their lifestyle!

If you look at the maps of these two places, it isn't hard to imagine Granite Falls as the wooded area close to the Moonwood Lunvik Lake, the spot where werewolves can "awaken the wolf" if they swim there during a full moon, because Granite falls is surrounded by various bodies of water AND mountain structures on it's right side... just like the mountain structures and woods that frame Moonwood Mill in the upper left hand of its map! Let me give you two shitty graphics I made to help illustrate what I mean:

It's not a one-for-one perfect comparison, but it's so damn close that it feels natural to see the worlds as complimentary! Especially with The Collective's connection to the ancient spiritualism of the original wolves and mooncasters, it just makes sense that they would opt live in a commune-esque community on the outskirts of Moonwood Mill, as opposed to being right in the epicenter of town. This way they're close to the sacred Lunvik Lake, just far enough outside of society to seclude their true nature, but still close enough to help the remaining human locals. I even have a silly headcanon that the "Big Foot" of Granite Falls is actually just the pack-less werewolf Greg, as we know he lives secluded, deep in the forest...it just makes sense that people might see him raging in wolf form at night and be like "Oh shit, big foot!"

With the Wildfangs being a newer pack that is more open to embracing the wolf parts of themselves, they wouldn't feel the need to "hide" and pull themselves out of society in the way that The Collective does. That being said, they also wouldn't have the resources, structure, and defined communal space that a very old pack like The Collective would have... therefore they're just scattered around Moonwood Mill in their family homes, the trailer park (some people do a motel instead - I can see both working well), and so on. Some lots even tell their buyers to ignore the "howling in the distance," and because the Collective hides their true nature, I feel this must be referring to the Wildfang's full moon antics and their willingness to "embrace the beast."

Either way, It seems to me that The Collective has always believed it best to stay hidden, so it makes sense that they would form their community on the outskirts of Moonwood Mill not just for their own safety, but for the safety of the human locals as well. I think they likely relocated to Granite Falls years before the Wildfangs existed and when a huge uptick in human settlers came in, chasing the riches associated with Moonwood's mines or, more likely, the mills which the town would be eventually named after. But as time went on and the town went to ruin (some people theorize due to the wolves, some people theorize the town's natural industries just became less profitable in the age of technology), people abandoned it and opted to move to the newer city - Evergreen Harbor. (See, we came full circle!)

That kind of leads us to where I'm at in my game, in "modern day." A lot of time has passed, and Moonwood Mill has changed dramatically since its inception. I prefer to imagine that the remaining human locals are not fully aware of the werewolves living among them with 100% certainty, but there are legends and stories. The oldest locals cultivate and pass down not just the stories but the protective practices to their children and grandchildren as well: don't go into the woods on a full moon, if the woods get quiet out of nowhere stay calm and find the closest way out, close all the blinds when it gets dark, don't go out on a full moon, bring the animals in or secure them in the barn for their protection on full moon nights, if you hear a whistle in the woods do not whistle back, and so on. Unfortunately, those stories, wives' tales, and superstitions tend to attract potential enemies to werewolf-kind: rogue vampires seeking to harm werewolves and even occult hunters. HOWEVER, by retreating into the woods, The Collective are closer to what they believe is their spiritual source - Lunvik Lake - where the original mooncasters created werewolves and Myshupotamians worshipped the moon. By being closer to their source, they are strengthened and therefore able to keep out potential threats, protect their own pack, and watch over Moonwood Mill as a whole more effectively. I don't think the Wildfangs are particularly interested in this part of their Lyncanthropy - its something uniquely embeded in the history of The Collective and why it was created in the first place.

LASTLY, my Moonwood Mill/magic world in general is actually years ahead of where we start in game, and in my mind the magic world is on the precipice of another war (a long anticipated response after the destruction caused by Operation Eternal Flame. Vlad isn't one to take losses, and the Spellcaster/Vampire tensions are still very much palpable). I'm not going to get fully into all that, but I will say that the Wildfangs are a far more established pack, still led by their alpha, Rory (albeit a much older, wiser Rory) and The Collective is led by Rory's adoptive brother, Jacob Volkov, after their father (and former alpha of The Collective) Kristopher died. Although the tensions between the Wildfangs and The Moonwood Collective aren't as severe any more, they do still have trouble coexisting from an occult governance/council perspective. Again, I have a whole lore about occult governance as well, but I won't get into all that either haha. The TLDR is that there are two big issues between the Wildfangs and The Collective at the present moment: the first being how Rory has gone about growing the Wildfangs (by recruiting pack-less werewolves outside of Moonwood Mill, something The Collective has always been against since its inception) and second, their willingness to work with spellcasters if another occult war breaks out.

Okay... I'm done now! I'm cutting myself off! That may have been more than you were looking for...I'm truly sorry!!!

I hope I managed to answer your question (and some). Thank you for asking me about this, I literally never get to talk occult lore and it is one of my favorite things to explore in the sims!! I feel like no one cares about my occult headcanons and such... but sometimes that's all I want to talk about lmao. If I had the time and talent to make a story about this very topic, I WOULD! But for now this is all I have to offer <3

Thank you again for this ask, it made my week!!

#ts4 #simblr #moonwood mill #granite falls #ts4 werewolves #the wildfangs #the moonwood collective #the sims 4 #sims 4 #ts4 lore #my lore #ddseries #atfs ask #charsimsalot

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clown-friend-gt · 4 months ago

Text

Up, Up, and Away Chapter 8

What Comes Next

4k words

Link to Masterpost

************************************************************************

Trevor slowly came to, awoken by the feeling of something prodding him in the back. Confusion and irritation flooded his mind. His brows knit together, and his eyes opened just a crack.

“Go away,” he mumbled.

Whatever was poking him jabbed him a little more sharply. He flinched.

“Get up,” a voice commanded.

He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned in frustration. He began peeling himself off of the floor, his skin sticking slightly to the linoleum he laid on. He winced as he felt the crick in his neck from sleeping on it wrong.

His whole body ached. Shakily, he propped himself and got to his knees. He looked at the person who’d just spoken. It was the man who’d processed him the day before. He held out something to Trevor.

Trevor held out his hands and he dropped something in them. He squinted at the small object. It was some generic-brand protein bar. He eyed Morgan suspiciously, but his stomach growled, reminding him that he couldn’t afford to be picky right now.

He tore the packaging open and scarfed it down in only a few bites. Then he crumpled up the wrapper in his fingers. As he did so, he began standing to his full height, narrowly avoiding hitting the ceiling before hunching over again. He looked down at the man, who stared back at him with his thumbs in his pockets.

“…Thanks,” he said, still a little groggy.

He raised an eyebrow. “Will that be enough?”

“Probably not,” Trevor admitted.

He sighed, looking between him and the officer standing in the empty doorframe. Trevor cringed, remembering what he’d done the night before.

“If I leave you here, will you try and escape again?” Morgan asked, his tone suspicious.

Trevor shook his head. “No,” he answered wearily.

“…Wait here,” Morgan told him. As he crossed the threshold, he turned back and gestured that he was watching him.

Trevor stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. His shirt felt too tight. He pulled at his collar to try and relieve the feeling. All of his clothes felt smaller today, although he knew they hadn’t changed sizes. He had.

He shifted around, trying to get comfortable, but his clothes were just too tight. He had a few more larger sets of clothing from the institute at his apartment, but he doubted he’d be going home any time soon. Maybe he could get someone to bring them to him eventually, but for now, he’d just have to suffer.

Morgan came back a few minutes later. He brought the whole box of protein bars with him. Trevor took the box from him, eyeing it cautiously.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

“Sure. Have as many as you like. We can always get more.”

Trevor sat up against the wall and dug in. Morgan continued talking as he ate.

“You’re going to be meeting with a case worker today about what comes next.”

Trevor chewed slowly while he considered his words, then swallowed.

“What does that mean?”

“The case worker will talk with you and run analysis on your threat potentiality. That’ll help us determine what your punishment will be.”

Trevor frowned. “Don’t I go to trial or something first?”

Morgan shook his head. “Things work differently for supers. The Institute has total jurisdiction over crimes involving the use of superpowers. Based on what they view your potential as a threat to be, your punishment will vary from there. Whether we let you off with a warning or if you end up with jail time all depends on what this case worker thinks of you. So be on your best behavior.”

With that final warning, he left Trevor alone in the room with his meager breakfast.

************************************************************************

Maybe half an hour later, they led him away to another room. This one looked like one of those interrogation rooms he’d seen on tv, only a bit bigger. But it still had a lot of the mainstays: the table in the middle of the room, the mirror on one wall, the low lighting.

Trevor wanted to avoid the mirror. He really didn’t want to look at himself right now. Besides, it was probably one of those mirrors that could be viewed like a window from one side. So he headed for the far end of the room, dodging the hanging light as he did so.

He leaned against the wall, wishing he could just melt into it. He wanted to be anywhere else but here right now. He was tired and sore. His clothes were uncomfortably tight. He’d had a whole box of protein bars but was still starving. And worst of all, he couldn’t get the events of yesterday out of his head.

He was getting sick of the way people looked at him now. Like he was a freak, a monster, a ticking time bomb. The way his own mother looked at him with fear in her eyes broke his heart.

His eyes drifted to the mirror. Looking at himself, it was hard for him to say those people were wrong. He was hunched over like some kind of creep. His eyes were tired and bloodshot. The longer he stared at himself, the angrier he got, until eventually he was fully glaring at the mirror. His hands balled into fists.

He had to distract himself. He looked away from the mirror for a bit, but there was nothing else for him to look at. Instead, he started pacing the length of the room. He crossed it in a few long strides, then turned around and walked the other way, over and over again.

Eventually he slowed, noticing his surroundings. The hanging light jostled in place with each step he took. There was a jug of water and a few glasses on the table. They rattled dangerously as he paced.

Great. Now I can’t even walk around without shaking the whole room, he thought bitterly. With a heavy sigh, he headed back to one end of the room and slumped against the wall again.

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Miranda Todd had been overseeing cases at the Lively Institute’s Juvenile Corrections Center for many years now. But despite that fact, she still never knew how to feel when she took on a new case. Sure, she liked helping people, she’d devoted her life to it. But the thing that bothered her was that any time she met someone new in this line of work, it was usually after the worst days of their life.

She rifled through the new case file one more time as she headed inside the building. The nature of her job made it so she usually had very little time between receiving a new case and meeting with the client in question. She knew that a quick judgement was important for everyone involved. It didn’t make her job any easier.

She flipped past the identifying information on the first page to the next, which detailed her client’s abilities. In most cases, detainees wore suppressor cuffs that prevented them from using their powers. But in case of emergencies, she liked to be prepared.

“Ability Class: Alteration

Primary Ability: Enhanced Size

Adaptation(s): Enhanced Strength and Durability

Potentiality: Undetermined”

That last bit would be partially up to her to determine. In addition to things like raw power and level of control, a super’s psychological profile also factored into their Potentiality rating. Some people, even in her own department, viewed this rating as a judgement of the threat a super posed to the public. She liked to think of it purely in terms of what they were capable of.

She glanced up as she passed the holding cell, to see if her client was there. She didn’t see anyone inside, but there was a handyman fixing the door. He nodded at her when they made eye contact.

She walked past that down the hall to the two rooms she’d be spending most of her time in today. There was the interrogation room, where her client likely was, with an observation room connected to it. She didn’t like doing her work in this sort of environment because she felt it made her clients more hostile towards her. But she also knew it was all this facility had to offer in terms of places to meet one-on-one.

She finished reading through the file one last time before heading into the observation room. A few people milled about the room, but she went straight over to the head of corrections, Ray Morgan. He was leaning over a desk by the one-way mirror, looking through it at her client.

“Ray,” she greeted him politely.

He glanced in her direction, nodding once. “Miss Todd.”

She stood next to him, looking through the pane of glass. “This is him? Trevor Castillo?”

“Yup. We caught the big one.”

She shot him a look. “That’s not funny.”

He shrugged. “But it’s true.”

She opened her folder, taking a look at the mugshot printed on the front page, then back up at Trevor through the window. The height chart in the picture showed him as a little short of seven feet, but clearly that was incorrect. His knees were bent and his shoulders were hunched, just to keep his head from touching the ceiling.

He stood in the far corner of the room. There wasn’t much light in the interrogation chamber, which she disliked. She’d voiced her opinion about it before, but the room stayed as dim as ever. It kept her from really being able to see his face from this angle.

Then he stepped forward, lowering himself to look into the mirror. She saw his gaze shift into a glare, and his cuffed hands ball into fists. Despite herself, she took a step away from the glass.

“He can’t see us, can he?” she asked Ray.

“No, but he probably suspects we’re here. Or maybe his reflection was looking at him funny,” he chuckled.

Behind his back, she rolled her eyes.

“We’re going to have Officer Randall accompany you in the room today,” he said, turning to her.

She frowned. “I prefer to talk with my clients one-on-one.”

“I understand that Miss Todd,” he said, his tone condescending. “But this is a special case. He’s already made one escape attempt so far—”

“—Wait, what?” she interrupted him. “There’s nothing about that in the report I was given.”

Ray gave her an impatient look. “It happened pretty late last night. He broke down the door to the holding cell. Didn’t you see it on your way in?”

“…That’s why they’re replacing that door today?”

He nodded. “We’re lucky we got a replacement so quickly. Anyways, the point is, we want someone in there with you, in case he tries something.”

A rattling noise diverted both of their attentions. They looked at the pane of glass next to them. It was shaking rhythmically in its frame. Looking through it, Miranda spotted the cause: Trevor was pacing in the other room, and every step shook the ground he walked on ever so slightly.

It made her shudder, though she tried to hide it.

She looked to Officer Randall, who stood in another part of the room. He nodded at her, eyes darting between her and the window.

“Fine,” she relented. “Just stay quiet while I’m working, okay?”

“Don’t worry,” Ray said. “He knows how to mind his manners, don’t you Randall?”

Miranda didn’t wait a response. She just turned and left the room. She went to the adjacent door and placed her hand on the handle, gripping it tightly. Officer Randall stepped out a moment later, giving her a nervous look.

You’ve got this, Miranda, she told herself, taking a deep breath. Then she knocked on the door and poked her head inside.

Trevor looked up at her, slumped up against the opposite wall.

“You must be Trevor,” she said as she opened the door. He nodded, and she smiled at him as she stepped into the room.

“My name is Miranda. I’m your caseworker today.”

She walked to the table in the middle of the room, pulling out the chair on her side. Officer Randall followed her in, closing the door behind him and standing in front of it.

Miranda gestured to the chair opposite her. “Please, sit down.”

Trevor pushed himself off of the wall and took a few steps towards the table. Like before, each step sent small vibrations through the floor, shaking the room around them. The water in the jug on the table trembled, like something out of a movie.

From the other end of the table, he loomed over her. It gave her an uncomfortable feeling, like his mere presence was enough to invade her space. She tried to ignore it, but something about the way he looked down at her nearly sent shivers down her spine.

Suddenly, he grabbed the back of the chair and yanked it away from the table, tossing it across the room. It fell to the floor with a clatter, and she simply stared at it, eyes wide. He muttered something under his breath and sat down on the floor in front of the table.

Her heartbeat picked up ever so slightly. Nevertheless, she had a job to do. She slowly sat down in the remaining chair and scooched it up to the table. She placed her file on the table and grabbed the jug of water and a glass. Hopefully, the act of pouring the water would disguise her shaking hands.

She finished pouring her own glass of water and then grabbed the other glass. “Water?” she asked Trevor.

He shrugged, which she took as a sign to go ahead. She carefully filled the second glass and slid it over to him. He reached out to bring it closer to himself, and she instinctively snatched her hand back. She saw him shut his eyes and sigh in annoyance.

Get ahold of yourself, she scolded herself silently.

She cleared her throat to get his attention before speaking again.

“So, like I said before, I’m the social worker assigned to your case. We’re going to have a little discussion about your life, so I can get to know you a little better. Sound good?”

“Sure,” he said with another shrug.

She nodded and turned her attention to the folder. She flipped it open to a page where she could take notes while they talked. She took a pen from her pocket, clicking it once.

“About how long have you had your powers?” she asked first.

Trevor looked away for a moment, thinking.

“Two, maybe three months,” he answered.

She scribbled that down in her notes. “What were some of the first changes you noticed?”

He looked down at himself, then back at her. “Um…I got taller?”

“Right, of course,” she nodded. “What I mean is, were there any side effects?”

“Well, I mean—” he hesitated for a moment, then sighed.

“…It hurt. A lot. I get these growth spurts from hell every few days and it just…hurts.”

She nodded, writing as he spoke.

“I didn’t even notice I’d grown for the first few days,” he said with a slight chuckle, though it held no humor. “I just noticed the pain.”

She looked up from her notes, brows knitting into a look of concern.

“That must be hard,” she said, trying to convey her sympathy.

He looked away. “Yeah.”

She looked over her notes again, then back at him. “So would you say your powers have had a negative impact on your life?”

“Yes,” he said, almost laughing. “Almost entirely.”

She nodded. “Tell me a little about that.”

“It’s, well—people are always just…staring at me. Ever since this all started. At first it was just, like, weird looks, because I was changing so quickly. But now they stare like they’re waiting for me to do something wrong.”

He glanced away from her, looking at Officer Randall behind her. She couldn’t see him, but she could guess from Trevor’s expression that he still had that same nervous look on his face.

“Yeah. And I’m always so hungry, anymore,” he continued. “It’s like nothing I eat is ever enough.”

As if to punctuate his statement, his stomach rumbled at that exact moment. He looked away in embarrassment, resting his hand on his stomach.

“I just—I hate always having to ask for more. Of everything, really. It makes me feel…I don’t know. Like I’m too much.”

He began rubbing his forehead. “And my mom, she works so hard. I hate putting any more strain on her than I have to, but she says I’m too young to get a job, and—and now look at me,” he said, gesturing down to himself.

“How am I supposed to—” he cut himself off with a long sigh. “I don’t know. I just don’t want to be a burden, but it feels like that’s all I am to her now.”

“It sounds like you care about her a lot,” Miranda said, sensing a chance to pivot topics.

“Of course,” he said. “I’m her son.”

“Does that have anything to do with what happened yesterday?”

His shoulders slumped. He stared at the ground for a moment, then cast his gaze back up to her.

“Do you mean what happened with the door, or what I did to Robbie?”

She pressed her lips into a thin line. “Let’s start with Robbie. How did you two know each other?”

Trevor blew out a long breath before speaking.

“…We used to be friends,” he said eventually. “A long time ago.”

She tilted her head slightly. “And when did that change?”

“Around middle school. I guess he just decided he was too good to be my friend anymore. But he couldn’t just leave me alone, so he started…messing with me.”

“Messing with you?”

“Like—just,” Trevor floundered for a bit. “I don’t know.”

Miranda tapped her pen, frowning. She assumed he meant that Robbie was some kind of bully to him at some point, but he seemed reluctant to say more. Still, to get some clarification, she asked:

“Was it physical in nature?”

“…Mostly,” Trevor said, with a small nod. “Up until a month or so ago, that is. Then he changed—or I guess, I did. So he started insulting me instead, every chance he got.

“It got to a point where I just couldn’t handle it anymore, I guess. And then—well, you probably already know the rest.”

“Yes, but I want to hear your side of the story,” she said.

Trevor was silent for a minute. Miranda set her pen down.

“I get it, it’s tough. Do you want to take a quick break before we get into it?”

Trevor nodded, his eyes aimed at the ground. He reached for his glass of water, grasping it in his fingers. It looked tiny in his hand. He raised it towards his mouth, but about halfway there, it slipped from his fingers. It fell to the floor with a crash.

“Shit,” he grumbled, wiping a few glass shards from his leg.

“Careful—” Miranda started to warn him, but he cut her off with a hiss, holding his hand up to his face.

She frowned, then turned to Officer Randall so she could send him away for a moment.

“Can you get a broom?” she asked. He nodded.

“Don’t try anything while I’m gone,” he warned Trevor, before hurrying out of the room.

Miranda watched Trevor struggle for a moment to reach the piece of glass in one hand with the other. His cuffs seemed to be giving him trouble.

“Here, let me?” she offered, holding out a hand. He eyed her cautiously, but she simply waved him forward. He slowly brought his hands closer to her, watching her like he was afraid she’d spook. She did her best to appear calm, for his sake.

She gingerly took one of his hands in two of her own and began to examine it. Once she’d spotted the piece of glass, she carefully plucked it out with her thin fingers. Then she held it up for him to see. Curiously, there was no blood on the glass.

“Huh, looks like it didn’t cut too deeply,” she said.

“Guess I’ve just got thick skin,” he shrugged. She laughed, and he cracked a slight smile at his own joke.

Officer Randall returned with a broom, and Trevor’s face quickly fell. He stood up and moved to the side, allowing Randall to sweep the glass up off the floor. After a minute or so, he finished sweeping and went to stand by the door again. Trevor carefully sat down again.

“So, you were telling me about the day of the incident?” Miranda prompted him again.

“Right,” he sighed. “I was already having a rough time that day. I’d had a bad growth spurt the night before and I was still sore. Plus, people were staring even more than usual, because I’d grown too tall to really fit in the hallways anymore.

“Robbie approached me when I was at my locker and just immediately started saying stuff to try and piss me off. I wanted to ignore him, but he just wouldn’t stop. Then he said something awful about my mom and I—I just…saw red and—and I hit him.

“I—I really didn’t mean to hit him that hard I just—” he hid his face in his hands and sighed, before sliding his hands off of his face to his lap. “I just couldn’t control myself.”

Miranda nodded along as he spoke. He was silent for a few moments, apparently finished speaking. She took a few final notes, then clicked her pen and set it down.

“I think we can stop there for today,” she said.

Trevor nodded, starting to look a little tired. She noticed his eyes starting to well up but said nothing. Instead, she offered him another smile.

“Keep your chin up, Trevor. This’ll pass,” she told him, before getting up, gathering her things, and leaving the room.

Officer Randall lingered in the room a moment longer before following her out. She entered the room next door, waving Ray into the hallway so they could talk.

Ray pushed himself away from the desk he’d still been leaning over her and joined her in the hall.

“Give us a little privacy?” he said, addressing Officer Randall. Randall looked between them, before nodding and walking down the hall, leaving them alone.

“I think I have enough information to make a call,” she said.

“Me too,” Ray nodded.

“You first.”

“Well, I think it’s too dangerous to let him leave here.”

She frowned. “But he shows clear signs of remorse.”

“You know the rules, he’s already messed up. It’s not about how sorry he is after the fact, it’s about how much of a threat he poses now.”

Miranda shut her eyes, trying to stay calm. She hated how the system worked for supers. It wasn’t fair that their freedom depended more on how dangerous they could be, rather than their motivations for doing the things they did. But she didn’t have the power to change it, so she did her best to save as many people from being wrongfully imprisoned as she could.

“I think now that he’s realized how…careful he needs to be around others, he’ll be able to show more caution in the future,” she said slowly, doing her best to keep her tone even.

Ray crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You heard him in there. What happens if he loses control again? Will you just let him hurt someone else?”

Miranda’s frown deepened. She didn’t have an immediate argument for that. Before she could try, though, he kept speaking.

“Think of it this way. If he goes into Corrective Custody, you’ll have the opportunity to meet with him twice a month. Turn him into one of your little pet projects. Maybe even get him to join the FHTP.”

She considered that. It wasn’t a bad option. It’d give her the opportunity to give Trevor a little more guidance, which he seemed to be in need of. Maybe this was the best way for her to help him now.

She sighed, ready to admit defeat. “Fine. Fine, go ahead. Just—”

He raised an eyebrow. “Just what?”

She shook her head. “Just—nothing.”

Then she turned and left. She had some planning to do.

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#g/t community #g/t writing #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t story #sfw g/t #OC-Trevor Castillo #Story-Heroisms #minigiant #mini giant

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