#you wouldn’t believe how worked up i am right now about something so innocent and inconsequential.

[vaperarmand]

seeing some fanon interpretations of stewy makes me be like ummm okay. so i am going to go buy a gun

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

Further Celebrations

Word Count - 3200

Author's Note - I literally wrote this because these pictues of Matt at the parade did something to me. But since of life and starting/stopping this so much. I personally feel that it's probably the worst smut I've ever written. So if this the first thing your reading from my page please check out my other works. 🤣🤣 As always thank you for reading, I truly can't believe how much my blog has grown in such a little amount of time. 💞

Warnings - LOTS in general: dom!male/ sub!fem, daddy kink, lowkey breeding kink, unprotected p in v, as always for me LOTS of dirty talk, semi public sex (i think that is it if there are any I missed kindly send me a message and I will add it to the list)

Summary - something about watching Matt be a cocky asshole all day at the parade celebrating winning the Stanley Cup really does something to you.

Masterlist

You had no idea what it was, if it was just how cocky of an asshole Matt was being. Or maybe it was the fact that he was soaked in a mixture of beer and rain making his curls stand out more, which if you were sober you would think was kind of gross. But you’ve literally been pregaming since 10 AM, with Matt and the boys. Or maybe it was his shorts, leaving little to imagination. Honestly, it wouldn’t be the first time you sneak Matt into a random corner and have a quickie. But you were trying to be good and let him celebrate with his team one more time this week with the community at the parade about the fact they won for the first time in franchise history. Plus you knew this was the last time the team was going to be together before next season and who knew with free agency starting if this team would exist next season. But after hours of watching him walk around with the damn cup basically benching it above his arms, making his biceps strain. On top of how he looked so fucking hot with that cigar between lip fingers, beer in the other hand yelling at fans. Again his thighs on display, you knew that you wouldn’t last much longer without begging Matt to take you to the closet bathroom or storage closet. 

It was now 8 at night and the whole team was out at some random dive bar. The music was blasting and you walked over to Matt mid conversation with Evan. Slowly take your hand and slide it down Matt’s chest, as you lean up and lightly pout due to being extremely drunk.“Matt,can we go dance please.” you give him the puppy dog eyes you know that go directly to his cock every single time. 

“Yeah baby whatever you want.” obviously forgetting that Rodrigues was even standing there. As he let you lead him to the small make-shift dance floor some other players made by pushing some tables against the wall. He couldn’t his eyes as they watched your hips and curve of your ass move to the music as you walked further into the center of the dance floor. 

You turned around and Matt literally pushed you flush to his chest.His hands were going to squeeze your hips making sure you stay close. His face went to your neck as he spoke softly to you and to hide the fact that he was leaving small wet kisses between his words. “Hey…darling…you…look so pretty… right now.” Slowly inching closer and closer to your ear. You slowly turn your head to look at your boyfriend, his eyes piercing back at you.

“Your drunk Matty” you can’t help the giggle let out and small hiccups. As you turn around in his arms your ass purposely rubbing against his cock, his arms quickly pulling you closer as he snakes them around you. 

“Maybe…but so are you.” he whispers in your ear, but not before forgetting to spend extra time on that one spot on your neck. You attempt to turn around again but Matt’s arms tighten around you, obviously enjoying teasing the fuck out of you right now. 

“please Matt.” you whisper, closing your eyes, momentarily forgetting where you guys are lost in your own little world. 

“Hmmm” he lets out. “I’m not doing anything” he says in an innocent tone. Even without you seeing his face you knew he had a wicked massive smirk on his face. 

“Matty..” turning your head trying to catch a glimpse of his face. As you grind harder on him, but it’s useless because it’s only making your need for him grow. “pl- please.. I can’t wait till we're home.” you say finally catching his eyes.He finally lets you turn around connecting your lips immediately.Your hands trying to go to the nape of his neck reaching for the ends of his curls, attempting to balance on the balls of feet as you fight for dominance. Obviously failing in both as you feel Matt bit your lip a little harsher than expecting making you open your mouth open in surprise giving him the chance to slip his tongue in your mouth.His hands go to your ass as he feels you almost lose your balance. He squeezes and kneads your ass like he’s wanted to since he walked over here with you. 

You slowly pull apart to catch your breath after a few minutes. Matt’s hands don’t leave the curve of your ass, if anything they’re squeezing and kneading harder. “Tkachuk I am not being dramatic.” you say in the most serious tone he’s heard from you all day. The smile breaks out even further at his girlfriends 'seriousness.’ “But..” as you reach up to whisper in his ear, to make sure no one can hear you because you know you aren’t the most quiet when you're this drunk. “I have been thinking about all the ways you can make me cum in the bathroom before anyone even notices that we’re gone since we stepped foot into this bar.” As one your hands say in his hair pulling just hard enough to get a reaction. You can’t help but break out into a smile when you hear a small grunt from his lips. 

“Oh yeah..” practically picking up ever so slightly off the ground so his cock can stay perfectly lined up against your pussy and going back to attack your neck. “And how would that work, princess. ya gotta be a good girl.” as he bites your sweet spot behind your ear.

“Fuck matty please, i need to feel you, anything.” you whine.

“Anything???” he asks in a deep voice full of lust. 

“Please.” your eyes pleading with his eyes as they darken, filling with lust.

“Okay.” he says softly, pulling apart and going further to the back hallway. Thankfully no one was in the back hallway, when you both walked into the single stall bathroom.Not that Matt cared anymore only one goal in mind. As soon as you entered, he slammed you on the door locking it. 

“You sure you can get off…with anything?” he asks the devilish smirk still hasn’t his mouth and raises his eyebrows in a curious way as he backs away from you. 

“Please Matty, I'm already so close.” you beg as you reach for the zipper of your jean shorts.

“No.” he demands. But before you could ask what he meant. He answers for you. “Since you said you can get off with anything” as he steps forward, slowly picking up your Panthers' crop top pushing it up the bottom of your neck, to attack the top of your boobs. “Get off on my hand.” you reach for his hand to go inside your shorts. He lets out a sigh of frustration and backs away enough to look you in the eyes. “Damn it. Did you not hear me slut! Use my hand ONLY completely clothed. Grind on my hand and if you cum, then I’ll reward you with my cock. But if not.. then we're gonna be in here a long time baby girl.” as he goes to suck on the top of your left boob. Leaving small little nibs into between his next words. “A” nip “very” nip “very” nip “ long” time.” You’re practically a crying mess already as you reach to steady just on Matt’s bicep.

Closing your eyes trying to focus on the pressure his palm is giving you and turning into a whimpering mess. Each whimper makes Matt’s rock hard cock somehow even harder. Matt’s other hand holds you at your hip helping you find a steady rhythm. “ I am not that much of an asshole princess, I'll help you.” His eyes are also closing, moving his head to rest on the side of  your neck, so he can whisper to you. “That’s it baby, God you so fucking beautiful riding my hand like a good girl.” Your only response whimpering as you move your hips faster to the sound of his voice. As you can feel all of him against your thigh. Naturally by rocking your hips, moving your thigh. The only response from him being a sharp hiss, “fuck baby, your so good for daddy.” His mouth sucking on your neck sure to leave a fresh bruise you won’t be able to hide from your friends outside. Matt gives your pussy a little squeeze as he leaves your neck. Your hands immediately go to his curls as you feel him go on his knees. His head linking perfectly with the hem of your crop top. 

You open your eyes and look down at him through your eyelashes. As you feel that familiar knot in your stomach start to form.  “Please daddy, I need ya- you. i  - i can’t-” but before you can finish your whimpering attempt of making a coherent thought he stops you. 

“I wish I could, baby but you said you could.” you whimper in protest as a response. As his hand on hip helps you go even just a little faster. “You can get daddy’s help after you cum babygirl.” As he goes to the top of your thighs teasing you with wet kisses. “I can feel your wet cunt on my hand and your shorts are still on. Your close princess and then I promise you can have my cock however you want it.” His words being your final push to finally cum your hands leaving his head to squeeze your boobs, your nipples begging for attention. “That’s it baby. Ride it out on my hand, there yeah go.” As he leaves a wet kiss where your clit is through your shorts. Finally feeling your breath coming down to a normal pace. Your hands go back to Matt’s hair and pull him by his curls back up to you to share a kiss filled with nothing but even more lust than before. Once you broke apart Matt said “i swear to god that was one of the hottest fucking things I’ve ever seen.” as he kissed your check softly, teasingly grazing his teeth along it. 

“Matty..” you say pushing closer so you can grind down on his clothed cock. “I need you inside me.” you whisper in a way that makes Matt’s knees go weak. The way you literally had an organism less than a minute ago and you're already begging for his cock. 

“I don’t have a condom babygirl.” grinding his hips along with yours adding to the pressure trying to give both of you some relief. 

“Doesn’t matter” you mumble as your hands go under the back of his shirt scratching down the center of his back. While your mouth goes to the right below leaving his ear. “I don't care if you put a baby in me. I don’t care, I need you, please.” 

“Fuck you wanna be all swollen with my baby in you huh?” he carries you over to sit on the sink as he pulls down his shorts and boxers just enough to slip his dick out of. You slowly shimmy out of your shorts as he walks back over to you pumping his cock with the precum leaking out. “Fuck babygirl, i can’t believe your letting me go bare.” as you lean back on the sink, your shoulders leaning against the mirror to give him more access. He pulls your shorts and underwear down to only your ankle. So that he can spread your legs more apart to give him even more access to your core. Your palms naturally flatten on the counter behind you to keep balance.

Taking his cock and slowly rubbing the tip up and down your folds before slowly pushing it in. Both of you are having a hard time keeping quiet now. “Fuck Matty you feel so good” you let out a sound that’s a mix of a moan and a scream as he starts thrusting inside of you. His thumb goes to your clit, the circular motions matching to the speed of his thrusts. “Fuck daddy” as you arch your back even more. Your hands stretch further apart adding to the pleasure of the new angle. 

“Fuck baby” as he brings one of his hands to your throat, squeezing your throat just enough for the air to cut off to your brain for a seconds. The new sensation makes you feel nothing but pleasure. As you naturally clench your core due to the pure feeling of pleasure you feel lost in. It makes you wonder how long you're going to last. “You want a baby in you huh?” Only being able to shake your head yes. Obviously being the right answer. He pulls almost all the way out and then slams into you hitting your g-spot with thrust. He continues to repeat his deep thrusts as his hand on your throat continues to put slight pressure making your brian feel a good kind of fuzzy. 

Just as you were about to tell Matt that you were close as you were starting to feel the familiar knots in the pit in your stomach and the tingling all over your body. A loud banging comes on the door and a male voice on the side “yo, the other bathroom is out of order! Hurry the fuck up I gotta piss.” Matt’s hand that was on your throat going to your mouth, as much as he loved the sweet noises you made the idea of another man, especially a stranger hearing made his body tense. 

“Dude shut the fuck i’m busy take a piss in alley.” Matt yells back, not slowing down his pace at all. One of your hands going to his forearm knowing that you're leaving marks from deeply pressing your nails into his arm but neither of you cared in the moment.  Not sure if the man left from in front of the door, Matt talks in a softer tone. “God I can feel you clenching around me, you like that huh?” only responding in whimpers. Now leaning down to your ear “god you're such a fucking whore getting off on the idea of being caught in public huh? You like that another man can hear how good my dick makes you feel.” All you do is nod, but apparently that’s not good enough of an answer.

“Answer me princess or I swear I will stop.” slowing down his movements, already teasing stop as he removes his hand from your mouth.

“Yes daddy. I like almost getting” a sharp whine lets out of your lips as the speed of his thumb on your clit increases. “C -caught.” you whisper out. 

“Who’s the one who makes you feel this good huh?” he asks in a dominating tone ob

“ya you- daddy” you say another wave of pleasure taking over your body, “i- i am gonna cum.” you say throwing your head back.

“Uh uh uh what do you have to do, pretty girl.” his voice is deeper than you swear you’ve ever heard. “You know you gotta ask baby. Ask for me to let you cum and make you nice and full with mine.”

“Daddy please, please i need to cum i -, i need to be full with your cum please daddy.” you ask, tears spilling from your eyes as the pleasure is slowly becoming too much.

“You think you can be a good girl and go out there and sit all nice and full with my cum and no one will notice.” as he fastens his pace again, his thrusts becoming sloppier telling you that he’s close. You nod your head yes and his head goes to bite you softly on the flesh of your neck and shoulder. 

You both cry out a mixture of curse words and moans of pleasure. You swear you felt like you almost blacked out as you felt yourself let go. Your body must have been more overstimulated then you realized because you squirted all over Matt’s cock.

“FUCK” he screamed as his hot cum shot so far up your pussy you swear you felt it hit your g spot lightly. As both of your breathing returns back to normal, Matt lifts his head back up. “Have you ever done that before baby?” 

You knew he meant how you squirted all over. You look down feeling embarrassed all of a sudden “no.. i’m sorry matty i didn’t mean to.” He uses his index finger to lift your head so you're making direct eye contact. 

“Hey hey” he coos “don’t apologize ever! I swear that was the hottest thing that’s ever happened and I am so glad that I got to share that with you. His forehead resting against yours “let’s go home and see if we can make you do it again.”As looks down and slowly pulls out of you catching any juices that might go legs, putting them to his lips. “Hmm we taste good together baby, wanna try.” you give him a nod and he puts his two fingers in your mouth and you moan around them. 

Matt helps you stand and put your shorts back on as he slips his on as well. Before you even leave the bathroom he’s already ordering the uber to take it back to his house with one goal in mind making you squirt again. He unlocks the bathroom door pulling you by his hand leading you out the bar trying to sneak past everyone. But then you hear someone call him name. 

“Tkachuk” you hear Rodigez again, “dude i’m glad i found you remember you taking the cup home so you can drop it off at the arena tomorrow.” He said, trying to pass the cup to Matt. He held it with his arm so effortlessly like it weighed nothing, his hand still in yours. 

“Right, right thanks bro.” he says, pulling you out of the bar. As your walking to your uber he leans down to your ear “hey you know what would be really hot, fucking you from behind until you squirted again while the only thing you can grasp is the cup.” Your eyes widen as he continues to talk. “Wanna test my theory?” he asked as he ushered you both to the uber that just pulled up.

“For matthew?” the man asked as Matt opened the door.

“Yes.” he confirmed as he let you slide in first, then sitting the cup in the middle seat of the saden, finally sitting down himself. The uber driver immediately recognizes Matt and talks nonstop about how big of a fan he is. How happy he is that the Panthers won the Stanley Cup. All while Matt sneaked his arm behind the cup, up your inner thighs and lightly creased your clothed clit knowing you can’t make a single sound. 

Matt continued talking to the driver as if he wasn’t doing anything at all. Finally at a red light turning to you and leaning down to you. “You alright baby?” loud enough for the driver to hear.

“Yeah” you say trying to make your voice sound an even tone as he moves his fingers add a bit more pressure. 

“We'll be home soon. I know your tired bubs” he says as he leans down to whisper in your ear. “Too bad we're not gonna go to sleep.” A deep blush covering your face as Matt kisses your cheek as you think about all the possibilities for the night.

[junicult]

first, i am in absolute love with all ur posts and works—second, could you do headcannons of the bachelors when they get jealous?? could be smutty or sweet literally anything u give is amazing

!! how the bachelors act when they’re jealous

contains ; sfw! established relationships! farmer is noted to be outgoing / social. mostly fluff, but not intended to be fluff. majority of these take place in the city.

note ; i do love man that can get a little jealous. anon i love u ur gassing me up🤭

harvey.

- overthinker ™️

- he’s his own devil on his shoulder.

- no matter what, he’s secure in his relationship. he knows you love him, and he knows you’d never even think about cheating on him.

- he literally remembers every single compliment you give him. he’ll just randomly think of when you told him his mustache looked especially neat one day like months ago, and smile.

- but there’s always that little shadow of doubt that appears every now and then.

- it more commonly happens after you’ve had an argument of some sort.

- he’s not insecure in your very committed relationship by any means, i’m not saying that any little argument he’ll just believe you don’t love him anymore & want to be with someone else.

- i’m just saying there’s always that thought that crosses his mind, and manifests quicker then he can push it away.

- i feel like one of his worst habits is that he needs to be reassured quite often.

- doesn’t have to be major, just an “i love you” will suffice.

- so if you don’t clear the air right away, he accidentally gives himself time to 🥁🥁🥁overthink!

- “i need to finish working, we’ll talk about this later.”and you close the door before you have time to resolve it—it leaves those few hours to be a living hell for him.

- the jealousy doesn’t creep in unless he actually sees it, or hears about it.

- he’s too mature for that.

- his mind doesn’t automatically go to, “she’s cheating on me!” when you talk about another guy or whatever.

- it’s more or less if he hears about him a little too much, or sees the two of you alone together.

- but knowing him he’ll never bring it up.

- he’ll bottle it inside if he feels it’s not worth it.

- or unless he’s given an opportunity 😊

- you’re laughing, wrapping up your day as usual, just talking to each other, “oh, and he made the funniest joke the other day—“

- “he is funny. i didn’t realize you two were friends,” he laughs stiffly, keeping his eyes on the plate of food in front of him.

- “yeah, well, he needed advice on a couple plants he has in his shack, so i helped him out a bit.” you smile innocently, because it really was innocent.

- he pauses mid chew, shooting you a glance.

- “i see…you’ve been in his house?” he clears his throat a little.

- you just blink at him for a second, before you have to purse a smile. “only a couple times. haven’t you?”

- “…yeah. i guess so.”

- u could practically see the thoughts in his mind. he really does go to the worst case scenario.

- you giggle, gently kicking his shoe under the table and leaning in to hold his hand. “aw, don’t do that. you know you’re the only one for me.”

- now he’s able to look at you, even smile. because really that’s how easy it is to clear the air for him.

- well, he might need a kiss or two.

sam.

- ignorance is bliss for this man.

- the longer you two have been together, the more and more oblivious he gets to affection from others.

- especially when u live in a town as small as this one😭😭

- if you two went out of town or something, let’s say for one of his concerts—he literally wouldn’t think the girl that’s flirting so hard with him was even flirting with him. he’d just think she was a rly big fan LMFAO

- which has been the cause of a couple arguments between you two dare i say, but he means well.

- he’s the most secure out of all of them i think.

- when you’re in town, his mind just kinda goes to ‘everyone knows we’re in love so they wouldn’t even try.’

- and he knows you wouldn’t either. it’s not even something he has worried about before.

- he really doesn’t get jealous i think. it’s so unbelievably rare it’d get to the point where he’s actually upset about it.

- he’ll doesn’t think twice when he leaves you and sebastian alone together.

- i think it’s really sweet how much he believes in the two of you.

- i feel like the only reason he’d ever get jealous, is because he finds you’re spending more time with someone else besides him.

- not even a another guy, just a person😭

- like let’s say you’ve just been around vincent a lot, especially since he’s grown so much of a liking to you.

- so every time you come over to see sam, you end up spending time with his little brother instead.

- not even intentionally, it’s just cute to see how excited he gets to see you, and you like hearing the things he has to say,

- “and penny’s teaching us cursive! cool, right?” he grins, showing his handwriting that definitely isn’t intelligible but you still smile and congratulate him instead.

- so you just end up preoccupied with vincent more then you even realize.

- because of this, you entirely miss the way sam’s all uncharacteristically quiet beside you, just watching his little brother take up your time together.

- although he loves to see how close you are with his family, he’s still pouting.

- it isn’t until vincent has to leave for school, or something other, when he’s finally able to get your attention.

- “so you finally have time for me, i see.” he hums, pettiness dripping from his tongue, arms crossed.

- you furrow your brows, mimicking his stance. “i’m sorry?”

- sam isn’t the type to pick a fight out of nowhere. i feel like, for him to actually get angry or upset at something, it’s have to be serious.

- and this just wasn’t serious enough for him to encourage a bad mood, so he merely gives you a side-eyed glance before he unfolds his arms.

- “you know…you’ve just…been a little busy…’tis all…” he looks down at his shirt like he’s all embarrassed.

- “please, are you upset that i was spending time with your brother?”

- “…well not anymore…”

- he can get over it fast. promise you, within minutes he’s all over you, kissing and hugging you like nothing even happened.

shane.

- 😭😭

- similar to harvey in the sense that, he needs to be reassured a lot. (bold and italicized)

- tell him, kiss him, hug him, whatever it is. multiple times a day.

- he trusts you, but he doesn’t trust very many else.

- he knows the other bachelors let out a literal sigh on ur wedding day. he knows they all want u🤷‍♀️

- which, for the most part, makes him feel soooo cocky. he likes knowing the woman everyone wants fell in love with him of all people.

- during festivals, and gatherings at the saloon, he pretty much likes to stay attached at the hip.

- wraps his arm around you, resting at your waist while you’re both having two separate conversations (more like you’re talking and he’s just beside you).

- he gets a little clingy around the guys that he knows are into you.

- he’s gotta show them what they don’t have🤷‍♀️

- it’s kinda funny cus he’s not being subtle at all, and instead of outright bringing it up in front of other people, you’ll give him a slow glance, and he’s just smirking.

- that’s only because you’ve totally brought it up before in private.

- “you know we’re married, right?” you snort, going to tug on the pendant around his neck.

- “hey, that doesn’t stop some guys.”

- “well it stops me. i fell in love with you, not them.”

- he grins when he hears that. “s’true. but you’ve gotta see the way they look at you—“

- “and let them look. doesn’t mean they’ll get anything out of it.”

- he has to admit, he does kinda like knowing they can look but can’t touch—and he gets to do both.

- when he gets jealous, it’s all because someone is spending a little too much time talking to you.

- he’s a tad fragile.

- when he sees one of the guys talking with you, he’ll glance over a couple times, making sure the body language stays casual n stuff.

- last thing he’d want (for you) is to cause a scene.

- but if he were to look over, and you were still talking with the same guy for a while, that’s when he’d start to frown.

- what makes alex so interesting? what’s he got to talk about that’s better then shane?

- he is soooo fucking petty. to the guy that was hitting on you, and you.

- “miss your boyfriend?” after you’ve left and are you’re walking home.

- your expression turns to disgust. “what?”

- “oh i dunno…just, you and alex seemed to have a lot to talk about.”

- “don’t start.”

- “you’re being awfully dismissive—“

- those are the fights you have.

- immature😭😭

- if the argument gets heated, you’ll both probably limit each other to the silent treatment 💀💀

- no matter how stubborn he is, though, he hates not being able to joke with you more.

- eventually he’ll find it unbearable, and he’ll come up to you with a look only he gives you.

- eyes soft, pressing a kiss to your shoulder and resting his chin. “i’m sorry baby, i know i can get pretty jealous. i’ll work on it, okay?”

- he knows you’ve forgiven him when you turn to look him in the eyes, smiling at his affections. “good. you don’t have any reason to be, i promise.”

- and he’s suddenly the luckiest man in the world when you cup your hand around his jaw, pulling him in for a kiss he’ll never fail to melt into.

sebastian.

- he gets jealous. lol.

- it’s definitely his worst trait, because yes he trusts you, but he still might think you’re doing the wrong.

- you’re way more social then him, that’s a fact.

- you talk to people every day that he hasn’t even spoken with in months. he’s always just a little on edge.

- that cloud of doubt always tells him you can do better, he doesn’t deserve you. but you’re good at reassuring him, so it makes it easier.

- not to say his jealousy doesn’t get a little annoying.

- at the start of your relationship, it probably made u roll ur eyes a little lmfao

- ur casually talking to sam, literally just listening to whatever he’s rambling about, and sebastian’s nearby with a frown on his face.

- “what were you guys talking about? should i be worried?” he crosses his arms when you walk towards him.

- as if sam would even think to do that to his best friend.

- honestly, the best way to get him to realize it would be to lay it on thick.

- “stop it, your overthinking is exhausting the both of us. you need to get better with that, or this won’t work out.”

- he might be a little upset at your bluntness, but pretty soon he’ll come around. you have a point, and he realizes that.

- so afterwards he’ll tone it down.

- he still has moments where he gets a little tense if you’re giving guys gifts, or talking to them for a while during festivals and things—but he knows it’s just your personality.

- you’re not even flirting, and if they would, you knew to shut it down.

- once he got better at controlling it, you guys thrived. cus really, that’s the only thing you guys would argue about.

- i don’t think he likes pda.

- like, at all.

- but you guys have a little routine when you’re in public to reassure him.

- if he’s standing next to you, not mingling because his social battery is out, & he doesn’t want to interrupt the conversation you’re having,

- it’s with a guy, but he’s been with you long enough to not get upset over the little things,

- you’ll just reach out, and give his hand a little squeeze to reassure him you’re still with him (if that makes sense.)

- like, yes you’re focused on the conversation you’re having, but you’re still thinking about him in the back of your mind, so you want to silently show that everything’s fine.

- after years of dating, and when ur married, his thoughts of jealousy pretty much go away.

- despite you being the only person he spends time with on a daily basis, he trusts you at this point. he should’ve from the very beginning, and he definitely feels guilty about it every once in a while.

- but now he understands you don’t give him any reason to feel jealous.

- just talking to someone doesn’t mean you’re intending to cheat on ur partner.

- he’s a bit stubborn, although i think it’s sweet to think he’s given you a heartfelt apology about it.

- “i’m sorry for not trusting you. i know you love me, and i love you too.” with a little kiss on the cheek.

alex.

- he doesn’t really get jealous.

-…if anything, i feel like it’d be the other way around.

- his ego is skyrocketed😭😭 he thinks very highly of himself, and yes that’s a good thing, but omfg can it be so annoying.

- don’t get me wrong, he thinks very highly of you as well. sometimes he thinks you’re too good for him, honestly.

- but when you’re both out together, he kinda loves when he looks over to see some guy trying to talk you up.

- he’s not insecure in the slightest. he’d be devastated if you did cheat, but with his ego he just kinda thinks it’d be your loss LMFAO.

- what makes it even better is when you have a little scowl on your face, leaning away and dismissing the stranger to go find him.

- don’t get me wrong tho, he’ll always step in if he sees someone overstepping boundaries.

- anyways, when it comes to whenever you guys are together in town, he’s touchy.

- he does not fear pda😭😭

- he’ll be all up on you if you’d let him. he loves letting everyone know you’re in a relationship.

- so he’s not even given any opportunity to get jealous.

- i’m serious. if you guys go out somewhere together, for example a gridball game he invited you to, he’s not leaving your side in general.

- but while you’re still trying to find your seats, you end up sitting next to a guy that’s clearly checking you out.

- “is this seat taken?” you ask, purely out of politeness before sitting down, and it’s obvious that this stranger is excited you’re sitting next to him.

- and if alex sees the small smirk on his face, he’s instantly swinging his arm around you, speaking loud enough to turn a couple heads, “these are great seats babe! we can see everything!” and pressing a kiss to your temple.

- throughout the rest of the game, the stranger keeps finding chances to say a few things to you, all of which has alex involving himself in your conversations.

- trust me, he’s making a grand show of how you’re not single.

- leaving his arm around your shoulders the entire time, kissing you and your cheek.

- and after the team scores, he’s pulling you close after cheering, speaking loud enough for the guy to hear, “you’re their good luck charm, baby!”

- he’s full of one liners like that the entire night, each of which make you roll your eyes.

- “i know what you’re doing,” you tease, despite not doing / saying anything to stop him cus…honestly it’s so attractive how much he’ll fight for you.

- he just smirks, tossing a couple pieces of popcorn into his mouth, “oh, you love it.”

- and that you do.

elliott.

- he’s also not the type to get jealous.

- or well, he doesn’t let it get to his head.

- his communication is too perfect.

- he’s not fragile enough to pout if you’re just talking to another guy. i think what he likes most about you is how welcoming you are.

- you’ll talk to anyone and everyone, and he definitely admires that about you.

- which is why i don’t think he’d think twice if he saw you talking with one of the other bachelors. you’re just striking conversation, getting to know everyone a little more.

- even then, you always tell him about it when you’re recapping your day.

- “oh, and then i dropped off one of the items shane requested today, got a nice chunk of change for that—“

- there’s nothing he needs to be jealous about. you’ve made it clear, and so has he.

- now being protective…that’s another story.

- he’s the perfect amount of protective.

- in general, he doesn’t look very intimidating. but he tries his best to make you feel secure if you’re out in public, and a guy keeps hitting on you.

- he knows you can handle yourself…i mean, ur the one who carries around a sword the majority of the time lmfao.

- but if it ever gets to the point where you’ve repeatedly shown disinterest, yet the guy won’t let up, he can step in.

- he’s so casual about it, swooping in by your side, sliding his arm around your waist.

- “you ready to go, honey? i called us a cab,” and he won’t even address the guy at all.

- “hey, we were in the middle of a conversation?”

- then he turns to him, gives him a bored once-over, before shrugging, “i don’t really think she wanted to talk to you, anyways.”

- whether the guy wants to press further is his own problem, because he’s hardly paying attention to what he’s trying to say.

- once you’re out of earshot and he’s finally let you go, he tugs you closer.

- “i’m glad you’re okay. sorry he wouldn’t leave you alone.”

- he’s so sweet you can’t help but smile, “don’t worry about it. thank you.” and he’s kissing your cheek, before actually hailing a cab.

[honkytonk-hangman]

Line of Sight [4]

JAKE ‘HANGMAN’ SERESIN X READER

Summary: In which everyone's worst nightmare is realised, and Jake's girlfriend isn't actually the reasonable one at all. She's actually just as bad. There's a reason she's with him, after all. or Penny bollocks you over your petty antics with Jake during a volleyball game, but you're too busy enjoying being the only thing on Jake Seresin's radar (on the ground, anyway).

Warnings: fluff, mentions of jakes clealry very healthy mental health that is in no way compromised or flawed and he defintiely wont be needing therapy. thats mostly a joke, this chapter is all fluff :P

Notes: Its done!!! thanks so much for readin this little series and sticking with it <3 I hope this is a nice little happy ever after for these two <3

MASTERLIST

“It's impolite to stare.” Jake scolds, not even bothering to look away from where he prepares to land his third bullseye in as many minutes. For your part, you don’t bother to stop staring as he at last throws his dart, earning a mix of impressed cheers and annoyed groans. You’re still watching him when he turns to you, ignoring the others as they clap him on the back or try to goad him into another game. Instead he steps in toward you, collecting his beer and taking a swig, now just as focused on you as you are on him.

“Say, you’re pretty good at this darts thing,” you ignore his prior commentary and instead shift your weight to pop your hip out. Jake takes another swig, raising an eyebrow, but shrugging all the same. “Maybe you could teach me a thing or two.” You bat your eyelashes innocently, earning an amused look from the blond.

“Who am I to refuse helping a lady out?”

Before you can even really respond, Jake has stepped around you, one hand trailing down your side and to your hip, the other curling around your elbow as he guides you the few steps over to the dart board. Just as ever when you do this routine, Jake is pressed right up behind you, and just as ever, he pays no real attention to teaching you a thing at all, instead simply using you as a vessel to show off once again. He knows you love it, and you do, your body growing warmer with every bullseye he lands, his hand at your waist gripping tighter when you snuggle further back into him. He squeezes you a little in warning when you wiggle your hips again, but when you glance up to shoot him your best innocent look, you find him grinning down at you with only trace amounts of smugness present.

“Gee, you really are good at this,” you tease, speaking softer now so only he can hear. Playfulness seems to leave his smile entirely then, and he leans in, hand tracing up from your arm to your chin, where he directs you to a much better angle for kissing. It’s only a quick kiss, but you can’t help but laugh a little at the way your little show melts Hangman right down to the Jake at his core. You bounce up to peck the corner of his mouth as he begins to pull back, aware of the crowded bar around you, and neither of you wanting to be that couple (although, you definitely were that couple, Phoenix has reliably informed you), but you weren’t willing to let him go so quick.

Jake chuckles at your display of clear affection, and even all these months later, you know it’s still something he’s getting used to. It saddens you sometimes, how he was so easy to give affection, but in many ways never seemed to expect it back. It makes you think of the year and then some that he practically ignored you, for what he thought was your own good, working off of the assumption that should you talk, you simply wouldn’t like him.

He was dead wrong of course, you had grown to like him without him ever saying a word to you, and once he did, your interactions only served to confirm the feelings you had. Jake’s soft little surprise anytime you plainly and clearly expressed your interest in him or what he believed to be his various character flaws quickly grew to be one of your favourite things about him, and you loved taking the time to complement or fawn over him at any given opportunity, to big him up in a way that you can.

You place one last kiss to the underside of his jaw as he straightens fully again, and you both become aware of the discussion of a pool competition. Still with his hands firm on your hips, he turns his head long enough to invite himself to the game.

“Duh.” Javy replies with a smile and a half-hearted roll of his eyes. Phoenix’s eye roll isn’t nearly as subtle, but her smile is.

“I’ll get you another drink,” you say softly, reluctantly extracting yourself from him. Jake seems to hesitate for a moment, eyes flickering between you and Dagger before you reach out and give his chest a light shove. “Go on, win for me, Hangman.” You have to suppress a giggle when his chest seems to puff out. A wide smirk pulls across his face, and he gives you a little nod. You loved how seriously he took these sorts of things.

“Careful what you wish for, baby, don’t want to get too competitive about a friendly pool game just to make you happy,”

“That is like the most romantic threat anyone’s ever given me!” you exclaim with a mostly genuine dreaminess. You yelp as you turn around, as the moment you have your back to him, Jake delivers a light swat to your backside. You fix him with faux-disapproval and flick your hair hastily in a way you know he finds extremely sexy.

“Careful there, Hangman,” you call in a sing-song manner, all the while he continues to smirk at you in a way that some may consider ‘infuriating’ (Review courtesy of Phoenix) or ‘annoying as fuck, man! Blink!’ (Feedback provided by Coyote). “Penny’ll have you thrown out for that sort of thing…'' you say with sickening amounts of fake innocence, batting your eyelashes at him, as he non-verbally calls your bluff, his smirk widening and his chin lifting as if to say ‘go on, then, do it.’.

You don't bother pretending you can win that sort of battle with him, especially not while you’re still clothed, so you flick your hair even more aggressively this time, and begin making your way toward the bar, swaying your hips dramatically for the sole benefit of the seaglass-green eyes that you know will follow you until you reach your destination.

You manage to find your way to the front of the drinks queues fairly quickly, and push yourself up and into the empty seat at the end of the bar. You’re in kind of a blind spot here, you’re more than familiar with the Hard Deck by now to know if you were anyone else, part of any other group, you’d be seriously worried about you chances of actually ordering, but all things considered, you aren’t anybody else, and you just so happen to be a part of the owner’s husband’s little band of merry men.

Penny spies you almost impossibly, and despite the heavy crowds at every other section of the bar, you see her pick up an already cleaned glass, and pretend to wipe it down as she makes her way to where you are, placing the glassware away and hitting you with a blindingly warm smile.

“If it isn’t one of my favourite love birds… what can I get for you hon?” Just as Penny finishes her eyes flicker to the place behind you before she frowns and looks back at you in slight confusion. “Where’s your shadow?” She follows up. You give her a little laugh and roll your eyes, gesturing the general direction of the pool table.

“He’s about to win some pool for me, although he did debate whether or not to come with me instead for at least seven seconds, so you know, we’re improving on the shadow front.”

Penny laughs loud and joyfully, giving a shake of her head at nothing in particular.

“If it weren’t so sickeningly sweet, I’d say good for him, but to be honest, at least I know he’s not going to get into that much trouble when he’s with you,” she says with the sort of wry knowingness one is only allowed to use when married to Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell. You raise an eyebrow and cock your head.

“Why does everyone always assume I’m keeping him out of trouble?” you wonder aimlessly, knowing Penny wasn’t one of those people, and in this rare context, she was also correct about keeping Jake from trouble.

Penny shrugs.

“You and Jake are just about the most perfectly matched duo I’ve seen in a while, but I think you hide your assholery better than he does,” Penny tells you with a laugh. You pout at her.

“You think I have assholery?!” you ask, faux-offended. Penny reaches across the bar to give you a light smack, rolling her eyes at you as she does.

“I saw you at the beach party last weekend, egging that man of yours on to humiliate your poor new friends,”

The memory brings an immediate smile to your face and you let out an involuntary bark of laughter.

“Oh my god, but that guy was such a douche! God, he had no idea what he was in for, challenging us to volleyball! Idiot,” you snicker only a little evilly thinking about how thoroughly you’d wiped the floor with the small group of beach goers who had wound up joining your party, only for you all to realise too late that they were kind of really annoying.

“Do you know what most mature adults do, what the other mature adults did?” Penny questions like you’re a preschooler. You roll your eyes, again. “They ignore school yard bait and try to make peace.” Penny tells you, which you don’t think sounds like the right answer. She looks at you expectantly, as if she’s waiting for you to concede her point. You make a face.

“Penny, those guys sucked, and they were talking such a big game about their volleyball skills. They didn’t even bring a volleyball with them! It was a netball!” you justify. Penny you can tell is only half telling you off, being a not-so-reformed troublemaker herself these days. “Jake and I play v-ball literally every sunday, we didn’t do anything or humiliate anyone on purpose, all we did was accept the invitation of a game.” you don’t believe a word of what you say, but it does sound almost convincing. If Jake were here he’d give you a supportive nod.

Penny lets out a laugh and shakes her head at you.

“Only you and Hangman can take something adorable and sweet and romantic that you do together, and turn it into an opportunity to dunk on some tipsy losers who’d mildly annoyed you,” Penny says, still like she’s scolding you, but the sparkle in her eyes says she would have done the exact same thing had she and Maverick been thirty years old again, and if the mere suggestion of beach volleyball wasn’t cause for a physio visit.

“Besides, I’m glad y'all got to watch us play at last. Since we made the mixed regional team last week we’ve wanted to get you all down to a game sometime,” you say, dodging any accusation of pettiness. Penny nods enthusiastically.

“You know Mav, Amelia and I will be at every one of those games. We’ve got to make sure you guys actually win and don't just tell us you win, to get the free drinks I promised.”

You can't help but smile warmly. It was nice to have a family in San Diego, to be able to rely on people.

“Really, Penny, thank you so much for sponsoring the team, you totally didn’t have to do that, but it means a lot to us, to both of us,” you say gently, reaching out to rest your hand over her. Penny returns your soft smile.

“See, this is the sort of thing Jake would never say, not without a heavy helping of sarcasm, irony or whatever else he thinks makes him less vulnerable.”

You laugh at that and bow your head in agreement.

“Hey, I’m working on it with him. I mean, Pen, he still gets surprised when I just tell him that I like a particular facet of his personality… Anyway, in the meantime, I’m happy to be the emotional go-between.”

Penny gives you a knowing, sympathetic hum.

“That man is everything he says he is and more, but he just can’t seem to bring himself to believe it. I’m glad he has you to show him it’s not just bluster.”

Your eyes momentarily prickle at Penny’s frankness, the words painful to hear from somebody else. Although she’s completely correct, it really does upset you to think of the way Jake must consider himself sometimes, and why you were so determined to adjust the way he clearly thought about certain things, mostly, himself.

“Very little of him is just bluster, and I can’t understand sometimes how he doesn’t actually see that, considering it’s a narrative he made for himself… he’s complicated, but I’m pulling at those threads as they come,” you nibble your lip with a small frown, before dropping your gaze to the bar top. “I just wish he’d see him the way I see him, and the way other people see him…” you pause, and Penny lifts a sardonic, incredulous eyebrow at you. You immediately relent, waving your white flag on that point in the form of holding up your hands. You’d had to come to terms a while ago now with the fact that you’re an exceptionally unreliable source when it comes to how you think others see your boyfriend, Dagger squad notwithstanding. “Okay, maybe not the way other people see him. Pretty sure that's the one thing he’s not mistaken about.”

You both share a soft laugh before Penny straightens, and throws a cursory glance over her shoulder at the seemingly ever growing crowd around the bar, though she still remains clearly unbothered as she turns away from the rush, and shifts her weight to her hip as she looks back at you.

“Anyway, I believe you came for drinks, and I believe I should go get them. The usual?”

You nod, thanking her as she steps away to fetch one bottle that supposedly contained beer, before she fetches your much nicer, far superior sarsaparilla, and waves you off when you attempt to pay.

“My shout, for the two of you making the regional team, and celebrating by destroying some amateurs, because you were bored.” She tells you with a playful wink. You grin widely, cheekily, before shooting her a faux-scolding look.

“Rewarding us for our supposed asshole shenanigans? That’s only gonna reinforce our poor behaviour, Penny! This is exactly why we’ll never learn!” you call out raising the drinks as your excuse for choosing to ignore any self-growth.

You manage to narrowly dodge a ‘rogue’ ice cube that finds itself mysteriously launched at your head, and poke your tongue out at the now distracted bartender, who somehow sees your childishness despite her mixing some brightly coloured cocktail, and spares a moment to throw you the bird, then a blown kiss. You laugh to yourself, as you push away from the bar, feeling quite pleased with yourself, and adjusting your focus to immediately inform your boyfriend of Penny’s definitely very real disapproval of your actions, and not at all conflicting response to the two of you grown adults humiliating some random pricks that in complete honesty, you certainly would have expended far less energy by just ignoring for the rest of the night.

You pause briefly, realising that that is the exact sort of petty assholery that Penny had suggested you hid, and briefly consider that you’re just as bad as Hangman, not Jake. You quickly come to the conclusion that you don’t find that to be a terrible thing, and so shrug to yourself, and continue on, unbothered by such little things like being a peaceful, non confrontational and relaxed person. In your eyes, being chaotic, always down to clown (on others) and quite likely an incredibly petty asshole at times sounded like way more fun, and involved far less unwanted self-introspection, you suspect.

The closer you get to the pool tables, the less you have to work to get through the crowds. All the Navy guys tended to congregate most thickly in this part of the bar, a sea of flight suits and unfamiliar patches greeting you, a fun quirk of which you’d discovered fairly soon after you’d visited Jake on base for the first time a month ago. Although you had no clue who any of these sailors were, or if they knew Dagger in any way, they definitely had become aware of you, and more importantly to this topic, who you were dating.

It's probably the petty-asshole in you again, but you get a sweet kick of satisfaction when you approach anywhere near the Navy guys, and for the first time in any bar ever, you don’t have to make yourself known to anyone for them to get out of your way. It’s almost as though a definitely unknown person may or may not have subtly mentioned (see: threatened to the best of his not-inconsiderable abilities) to any Hard Deck regulars on base, that should you be making yourway over to your regular spot, they are to clear the path and make sure you’re able to walk without going unnoticed by rowdy sailors who can't hear or see you.

You’d be annoyed that someone, surely not anyone you’d know, went to such efforts after just one incident in which you were trying to get past some sailors for much too long, only for one of them to step and into you, making you drop the round of drinks you’d been carrying, but honestly, as a remarkably unintimidating woman who wasn't known for her great assertiveness when not backed up by her six foot actually intimidating Navy Officer boyfriend, you kind of loved that someone, who you really had no clue as to the identity of, had gone out of their way to make sure you’d not have any more issues during what should be an uneventful commute from the bar to the pool table.

You have no idea who could be willing to use their mean side to your benefit, the result of which is the most unbothered walk anyone has ever done in a crowded bar, and a bunch of random sailors you don’t know occasionally giving you polite, stern little nods as you pass, as though their instinct was to salute you, before they remembered that you are not in fact any form of authority to them, but they couldn’t not do something as a sign of respect. You really do wish you could find out who it was that had put the fear of god into these men, if only to give him some really, really good head later.

You finally arrive back at the pool table, the red sea closing back up behind you to form a seemingly dense wall of uniforms, that Payback looks at in clear confusion, then to you, as if you had an explanation you were willing to give. He lifts his brows and you shrug, putting on your best smile.

“Guess they just all thought I was cute or something’!” you say brightly, wishfully. From the direction of the pool table, a familiar voice responds to you.

“Yeah, I guess they did, how polite of them.” Jake says meaningfully, though you don't know what he’s on about, but you suspect is in fact a veiled suggestion-not-threat to the sailors within hearing range.

You wander over to Jake, making sure he's not about to take a shot before you step right into his personal space, and hand him his what apparently passes for beer these days. Jake takes a sip, and thanks you, dropping a brief kiss to your temple. You see him briefly take a look at what you’d ordered, only to receive a scoff.

“And you have the nerve to call my choice in drinks ‘nasty’. Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but you’re drinking’ cough medicine.” This is the one facet of Jake’s personality you can’t stand, and have made clear to him you dislike.

“‘Oh look at me, I’m a grown man from Texas who hates Sarsaparilla, how unique and quirky!’” you mimic his voice in a fairly insulting way, it sounds not a thing like him, but that's part of the jab. Jake narrows his eyes and pokes you in the side.

“You ain’t witty, plenty of people hate that shit,” he tells you, frowning. You ignore him.

“Oooh, I claim to be accepting and appreciative of the few differences i have with my girlfriend, but always happens to forget her favourite drink when he goes out for snacks!’” you mock him further.

Jake huffs and is about to open his mouth, no doubt in his defence, but you cut him off, narrowing your eyes.

“You ain’t slick, Seresin.” you say darkly.

Somewhere around you, wherever your friends are, you don’t know, you hear Rooster whistle lowly.

“Hey guys, first fight!” he says mirthfully, but with no real conviction. You snap your head in his direction.

“This is not our first fight,” you correct him with an eye roll, no longer concerned with your petty argument, both you and Jake forming up into a single entity once more to face the rest of the world. Jake’s arm slings casually around your waist and he leans on his hip, into your side.

“Get a load of this, Rooster thinks that's what a couples fight really sounds like,” Jake adds, as if speaking to you conspiratorial, toxic levels of faux-sympathy for his squad mate.

“If that's what he thinks a fight is, I’d hate to see what he thinks a declaration of love sounds like,” you say, mostly for the benefit of Jake and yours little game you’ve started, and not for Rooster, who was already ignoring you both and rolling his eyes as he moves to take his shot.

You glance up at your boyfriend, who is smiling Cheshire-like, but he shoots you a wink when he returns your gaze. He turns toward you then, using both hands, both of which also hold a beer and a pool stick respectively, to grasp your hips and duck his face into your eye line.

“The corner store we go to for snacks doesn’t have sarsaparilla, but it’s kinda a bust most times anyway, let's find a new snack stop, alright?” Jake says, definitely earning him some extra, extra good head later.

“I didn’t think you really were leaving it out on purpose, it's so hit and miss in Cali what stores stock it.” you tell him, grumbling that you couldn't just go to any store and get you some cough syrup.

Jake hums, and steps around you, your convection on pause briefly as he steps up to take his shot, sinking all the balls he's supposed to and not the ones he isn't (you refuse to learn more about pool than absolutely necessary), before he turns back to you as if he’d never stepped away at all, and sweeps you up again.

“I know a place back home where you can get a year's supply, I’ll see if one of my sisters can figure something out,” Jake says softly, as if a little worried the others might hear him being so gentle and tender. The others, while certainly all pretending not to eavesdrop, only wear various expressions reminiscent of the sort generally worn after being shown a baby animal video compilation.

“And how are either of your sisters supposed to get a year's supply of sarsaparilla up to North Island from Austin?” you question, not wanting to bat away his clear intent to apologise for any wrong you may have thought he’d done. Jake’s eyes swing toward the ceiling like you’ve just said something stupid and he won't actually believe it.

“You forget I’m a pilot.” he says as if it's obvious and also a good point. You frown.

“Pretty sure your jet can barely fit you, let alone a bunch of sarsaparilla.” you say, feeling distinctly like you might be about to walk into a verbal trap he’s laid.

Jake huffs, and still keeping his eyes off of you, he all but stomps his foot at your logic and reasoning.

“Whatever, I’ll drive it back if I have to,” he says, even more quiet and even more worried of the others hearing him. You refrain from ‘aww’ing dramatically, and instead cup his cheek.

“You can just apologise or like, use your words you know. You don't have to communicate with me via intense acts of devotion and service.” you give him a little smile to let him know you were being serious, despite your light tone. Jake’s eyes fall on you at last and he purses his lips.

“It doesn’t feel like enough.”

“But driving around forty hours round trip to Texas and back again all for some cough syrup does?”

“Yes.”

You consider him for a few moments, but relent, and release him of his obligation to make eye contact during vulnerability, patting his cheek lovingly.

“Alright, well, if that's what you’d like to do, Jake,” you say, not fully understanding why words aren’t his thing in this one aspect of his life, when in every other area he excels in anything verbal, damn-near silver-tongued. But you also don't have to understand it, you just had to know it, and then see his displays of love and affection no matter how odd or unconventional or totally over the top and ridiculous, for what they were.

Jake takes a few moments to process the amicable end of that discussion, seemingly expecting a fight or more pushback, but you only nudge him, to draw him from his distraction.

“Hey Hangman, aren’t you supposed to be winning this for me?” you ask playfully. Making the blond frown at you as he looks between the table and your face.

“I said I would, didn’t I?” he asks back, making you pause. You glance back at the table with an earnest frown and after you seemingly take much to long to decipher the secrets of the little round balls, Jake chuckles, stepping up beside you and wrapping you up in one arm, pulling you in as he continues to laugh at you (you retract one extra off of the ‘extra extra good head’ you were planning on giving him later) and kisses your temple, his chuckle nothing sweet and instead completely, totally, and all-consumingly infuriatingly smug (Review by His Girlfriend).

“You have no idea what you’re looking at, do you?” he asks, quieter than you’re expecting, so only you hear. You glare, and answer him with an exasperated sigh.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it, darlin’.”

You now glare directly up at him as he watches you with a mix of genuine assholery and softer playfulness that lets you know he’s fully aware of the former trait making a rare  appearance in reaction to you.

Sometimes, you almost wish he’d go back to ignoring you. It had to be better than suffering this. You didn't deserve it, you were an occasionally good person, right?

Jake draws you back from your silent pleading for a time machine, and he leans down toward you, smolderingly self-satisfied with how his little display has gotten under your skin, and his expression combined with his much more intimate proximity suddenly brings to mind that night several months ago now at the club, the night that Jake had paid attention to you for the very first time, and you’d understood clearly what it must feel like to go up against Hangman in a dogfight, what it felt like to be in his direct line of sight. 

Jake plasters on an identical smile to the one he has in your memory, but unlike that night, he gains an evil glint to his eyes, which you find out the reason for mere seconds later, when he gently boops your nose in a manner that tells you he definitely knows has lost him all extra good head privileges for the night.

Apparently, he deems it worth it, and sadly, you can't help but be swept up by him, rolling your eyes in mock frustration, but unable to keep from grinning up at him like a lovesick fool, waiting for him to finish his line.

Jake’s smile turns momentarily sweet, but he quickly covers back up with his bluster and fake mega-douche routine you actually definitely loved.

“Let ol’ Hangman take care of it for ya’.”

[meiliarotten]

Team Fortress 2 Kinktober Time Three: Return of the Kink

Day 1: Language of Lust (Voice Kink)

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

Pairings: Medic x Fem!Reader

Summary: The first thing art of my third Kinktober challenge, let’s go besties!

Tags: voice kink, language kink, oral, scratching, gratuitous German, aftercare

Word Count: 4.3k

The Masterlist

You tried to understand Medic, you truly did. He talked about his experiments at length, and anyone could see how passionate he was about them. Still, he often forgot that not everyone understood the medical jargon that he did, and you couldn’t bring yourself to interrupt him. The last thing you were able to understand was something about the superiority of the mega baboon heart when compared to the average human’s. It was all downhill from there, but as long as he kept talking, you would keep listening, nodding along. The truth was you loved to hear Medic talk, and the reasons weren’t entirely innocent.

“Now this part gets a bit complicated, are you paying attention?” Medic asked, gesturing towards a rough diagram he had scribbled on the back of some paperwork. As far as you could tell, it seemed to be detailing how one would successfully prevent the human body from rejecting animal organs, specifically the uterus, for some reason. Usually you wouldn’t question it, but you felt it would be wrong to let him keep going on if you truly didn’t understand. Plus, it might mean you get to hear him talk for longer.

“Oh yes! Of course I am,” you said. “But just in case, could you run it by me one more time?”

Medic sighed, smiling fondly at you in a way that made your heart skip a beat. “I am starting to think you just enjoy hearing me ramble, mein schatz.”

You hoped he wouldn’t notice the soft blush that colored your cheeks. He had no idea how well he had just read you. “Maybe I do,” you said, trying to keep your tone as casual as possible.

“Well, I appreciate that. Not many are willing to listen to me go on like this. However, you don’t have to pretend to understand for my sake.” You noticed a hint of sadness in that statement. You knew how it felt to enjoy something, especially something weird, and have no one to share your interests with.

“I don’t have to understand to see how passionate you are about it, and I like it when you get worked up.” You paused for a moment before realizing how that sounded. “When you’re excited, I mean. Excited about your work.”

Medic chuckled. “Is that so? I have always wondered what you enjoyed out of these conversations we share.” He got a bit closer to you, looking you up and down like an intriguing specimen. “And while I do believe you like seeing me happy, I don’t think that’s the only reason.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, perhaps a bit too quickly. You kicked your legs nervously, hearing the metal operation table you were sitting on creak slightly as you did.

“Let’s see,” Medic said, leaning in, studying you. Suddenly, he started touching you. It was entirely innocent, nothing that wouldn’t be done during a normal physical, even if it did leave goosebumps all over your skin. You started giggling uncontrollably when his fingers lingered on areas that he knew were ticklish. All the while he made mock ‘observations’ about you. “A slight flush, perspiration on the brow… excellent bone structure!”

You narrowed your eyes at him, growing more confused by the second. “What the hell does my bone structure have to do with anything?”

“Nothing,” Medic said. “But based on how much redder your face just became, I would say you like it when I compliment your appearance.”

You stared at Medic, finding yourself at a loss for words. He held your gaze, and you looked away first with an awkward laugh, feeling like he was staring right into your soul. Was this really happening? Was this Medic’s way of flirting?

Placing a hand on your cheek, you found that it was indeed warm. You also probably should have been unnerved by Medic’s comment, given his track record with skeletons. In fact, he had once detailed how he planned to one-up that particular achievement with something he lovingly referred to as ‘the circulatory system heist.’ Honestly, he probably wouldn’t be satisfied until he managed to steal every major organ system in the human body at least once, preferably leaving his victim alive in the process.

Finally, you responded. “It’s not just the compliments. Truthfully, I just like hearing you talk. You have a hot voice.” A moment of silence was all it took for you to realize what you had just admitted. Shit. You had gotten too comfortable. You had said too much, and of course, your immediate response was to stammer your way through a desperate, panicked stream of consciousness. “I mean nice! You have a nice voice, in a normal way. It’s, uh- unique, with the accent, you know? Yeah, that’s it. You would make a good narrator.”

Real smooth. Perfectly executed. He wouldn’t suspect a thing.

He had, in fact, suspected many things. An expression flashed across Medic’s face. First came realization, and then surprise. You weren’t sure whether you should be proud of the fact that you actually managed to surprise Medic, of all people.

“You like my accent?” He spoke with a certainty that implied he already knew the answer. You wished you could blame it on Medic being observant, but the fact was you had basically outed your massive crush on the team doctor in a moment of weakness. The only thing to do now was own up.

“Maybe,” you said, just above a whisper. You’re face was so red, and you felt hot from the blood rushing to your face. “I do have a bit of a thing for it.”

It was definitely more than just ‘a bit of a thing.’

“I am surprised. Usually when it comes to accents people go for the French, or the other romance languages,” Medic said, looking you over like you were a subject to be psychoanalyzed. It made you feel so small, even though you had the freedom to leave whenever you wanted. Not that you would. You liked where this conversation seemed to be going, even if you were embarrassed by how it was initiated.

“I guess I just have unique tastes.” There wasn’t much more of an explanation for you to give. You weren’t quite sure when you developed a thing for accents, let alone Medic’s in particular, but the human brain worked in mysterious ways. While you satiated yourself with the occasional foreign nickname he had given you, there was a part of you that occupied lonely nights with thoughts of how it might sound if he were to moan against your ear, whispering sweet nothings in a language you barely understood.

“I hope that this isn’t the only reason you come to visit me,” Medic said. “I actually thought you enjoyed hearing me ramble about exotic animal parts and Medigun technology, but perhaps that was just wishful thinking, ja?”

“Of course not,” you quickly reassured him. “I guess you could say I came for the accent and stayed for the sordid tales of grand theft skeleton.”

That at least got a laugh out of him. “Well then, I suppose I can’t be too hurt, liebchen.”

Damn it. Your blush had just begun to calm down, too. “That’s not fair!”

“Why not? You didn’t seem to have a problem with my little pet names before. In fact, I think you liked them very much.” His eyes narrowed, zeroing in on you in a way that reminded you of a wolf tracking its kill.

“It’s different now that you know,” you stammered, struggling to keep your composure as you held his gaze.

“How so, schatz?”

You huffed. Now he was just doing it on purpose. You weren’t going to humor him with an answer if he was just going to keep teasing you- until you felt a breath against your ear. “I asked you a question, mein engelchen. I expect an answer.”

“Oh fuck,” you whispered. You hadn’t even realized how close Medic was getting. Now his arms were on either side of you, gripping the edges of the operation table. He probably noticed the way your body stiffened and the way you squeezed your thighs together. Even so, a part of you worried you were being too presumptuous. Was this really going where you thought it was going? “Medic, what are you doing?”

“I thought that would have been obvious,” he said, chuckling softly. “I’m giving you what you want, if you’ll let me.”

“Seriously?” you asked, trying not to be too embarrassed at how the word came out as more of a shocked squeal.

“Only if you want to.” Medic backed away to look you up and down. He still wore a knowing smirk, but there was a hint of sincerity behind it that let you know that if you wanted this to stop, it would stop. You didn’t want that though. You had dreamt of a moment like this, and here it was, being offered on a silver platter, or rather, a silver operating table.

Before you could think, almost as if on instinct, you leaned forward and kissed him. You felt him startle, jolting against you slightly before he melted into the sinfully short kiss. You looked up at him with glassy eyes when you parted. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

Looking up at him like that, you were irresistible. Medic leaned down, kissing you hard. He was much rougher, biting at your lower lip until he could slip his tongue into your mouth. Your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him against you. He moaned into your mouth as you grounded against him, cursing the layers of fabric that remained between the two of you.

“Medic, please,” you gasped when you parted for a breath.

“How about you beg for me in my native tongue?” Medic said. “After all, I know how much you love it.”

“I don’t know how,” you whined, not even caring that you sounded utterly pathetic. Your voice was already quivering and besides a heated makeout, nothing had really happened yet.

Medic’s gaze softened. You were adorable when you were frustrated. “I’ll teach you, liebe. You know how to say please, don’t you?”

“Bitte.” You responded with some confidence, having heard Medic say it before, usually when asking for assistance on the battlefield.

“Very good. Now, repeat after me, ‘Bitte, lass mich deinen Schwanz lutschen.’” He spoke slowly, and you repeated the words at the same pace, occasionally struggling around the pronunciation that felt foreign on your tongue.

Medic smiled, and you took that as a sign that you did well. “What does it mean?”

That smile twisted into a smirk. “It means, ‘please, let me suck your cock.’”

The heat in your cheeks deepened, and you knew you had just turned a much deeper shade of red. Perhaps it was a bit naive of you to think that what you had just said would be anything other than lewd. “Well,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Can I?”

“Certainly!” Medic’s swirk widened, his teeth glinting in the harsh light of the infirmary. His eyes tracked your every move as you dismounted the table, pacing around him until he was leaning back on the steel surface and you were knelt down in front of him. His ever present gaze made you shiver. Reaching for his belt, you paused at the buckle, glancing up at him nervously. “Go on, liebling.”

You nodded, wasting little time unfastening the belt and unzipping his fly. With some finessing, you eventually freed his cock, working him up with your hand. The way he groaned at your touch made you squirm, pressing your thighs together in an attempt to quell your arousal. You were quite proud to find that he was already half hard.

It wasn’t long before you could get to work with your mouth. You licked your lips until they were reddened and wet. The noise he made when you simply dragged your tongue along the underside of his cock was maddening. You had fantasized about what it might be like to hear him moan, to watch him come undone with your touch, but nothing could compare to the real thing. You needed to hear more.

Little did you know, Medic had thought about this before as well. He had wondered how you would look on your knees, lips parted and ready to take anything he gave you. You took it so well, too. Your mouth was tight around his shaft, and you did such delightful things with your tongue that made him grip the edge of the table and pulled shaky groans from his lips. “That’s it, keep going, liebchen. Du machst das so gut, you’re so good!”

You shuddered, a low moan escaping you. Although it was muffled, Medic immediately took notice. Your muscles were taut, and you seemed to double your efforts, bobbing your head faster and working your tongue against him. Something he said had certainly motivated you. ‘A praise kink,’ Medic thought to himself. ‘This will be fun.’

“Do you like it when I call you good?” You would have nodded if you weren’t otherwise occupied. In fact, you were so wrapped up in your current task that you barely heard him. He didn’t seem to need any further confirmation though. Medic weaved his fingers into your hair until he had a tight grip close to your scalp. “Let’s see just how good you can be for me then. I want to feel your throat tighten around me.”

He pushed you further down onto his cock. Every move was gentle and gradual. Medic paid attention to your reactions, pausing whenever he felt you gag, letting you adjust until eventually you managed to take him as deep as he hoped for. You were held there, breathing slowly through your nose as you felt his cock press into your throat. Your tongue continued to massage the underside of his cock.

“Sheiße,” Medic cursed softly. His grip on your hair loosened, and you took the opportunity to start bobbing your head again. Only now, you could take him to the hilt on your own accord. Instantly he was gripping the edge of the operating table in a white knuckled grasp. “Oh gott, liebling! That’s so good!” He was panting, and you loved it. Every sound that came out of him was breathy and high pitched, almost sounding more akin to whimpers than moans. “You’re doing so well, meine gutes mädchen, my good girl!”

Of course the praise wasn’t about to let up. You moaned around his cock, doubling your efforts. You were a good girl, you were his good girl, and you wanted to prove it with every fiber of your being. For a moment, you thought you could be content to simply bring him to completion right there, your own pleasure be damned, but it seemed like Medic had other plans. You felt a harsh tug on your hair, pulling you off of his cock. You gasped, the sound quickly turning into a whine.

“Sorry, liebchen, but with the way you were moaning…” He paused for a breath. Medic’s expression was pained, as if he didn’t want to make you stop, but forced himself to. “I was getting much too close, and I still want a chance to fuck you properly.”

You immediately jumped at that, almost literally, as you hoisted yourself back up onto the table with surprising speed. The metal had gone cold, cold enough that you felt it through your clothing, causing you to shiver. Speaking of clothing, you were still wearing far too much of it. At least that’s what Medic seemed to think. He quickly stripped you of your pants and underwear, only allowing your top to remain, to ward off the chill of the metal.

Medic took in the sight of you slowly, relishing every detail. Your legs were spread wide and inviting. Oh, you were positively soaked. He ran a finger over your sex and it came back wet and shining. The gesture left you shuddering. It seemed you were sensitive to even the smallest touch. This was going to be fun.

“Please, please fuck me!” you whined.

“You can’t withstand a little teasing, liebchen?” Medic laughed, letting his hands caress your inner thighs, so tantalizingly close to where you wanted to be touched, but just out of reach. “Don’t worry, you’ll have what you want, but first, beg for me properly.”

“Bitte!” you cried, recalling your earlier lessons. “Bitte, Medic!”

“You remembered! Very good.” He dragged you forward to the edge of the table, sliding his cock against you, past your entrance and up to your clit. So close, so agonizingly close. “Now let’s add some new vocabulary. Say, ‘bitte, fick mich.’”

“Bitte! Fick mich!” You didn’t hesitate like before. There was no need to speak slowly and sound out words. Desperation apparently did wonders for your pronunciation.

“Perfekt.”

Medic’s cock was coated in your arousal, twitching against you. He was just as needy as you were, he was just better at hiding it, but there was no need to resist anymore. In one quick thrust, Medic lets you feel every inch of him. The noise you made was animalistic. You clung onto his arm, pulling at the sleeves of the white coat that he still wore. You didn’t even mind- the uniform was starting to become part of the appeal.

He groaned, thrusting slowly, savoring the feeling of your warmth around him. You watched, enraptured by the way he buried himself within you. “So good,” he muttered. You glanced up at him, meeting his eyes. “Is it good for you too, meine liebe?”

Medic stroked your cheek gently, his gaze softening. “It feels good. Fuck, Medic! Please fuck me harder!” you gasped, bucking your hips uselessly.

That moment of gentleness faded as soon as it arrived. Medic gripped the edge of the table for leverage as he fucked you against it. The metal creaked beneath the barrage, but it wouldn’t give away. This table was built to hold the likes of Heavy, there was no way it would buckle. Any other surface very well might have, though.

“I’ve wanted to do this for such a long time,” Medic groaned, his voice low and his breathing heavy. Even now, he tried to take in every feature, committing the image of you taking him so nicely to memory. Everything from the gentle bounce of your chest to the way you bit your lower lip in a vain attempt to smother your own moans would be a detail he could call upon during lonely nights. “If only I knew sooner that you were so smitten with something as simple as my voice.”

Suddenly, his grip shifted to your waist, pulling you forward to meet his thrusts. You keened, feeling him drive deeper into you. He rocked his hips against yours, letting you grind and adjust to the newfound depth.

“Medic,” you began, struggling to catch your breath enough to speak. “Medic, I want- oh fuck!”

“What is it, liebchen?” He paused, letting you regain enough composure to speak. “Go on, tell me what you need.”

“Just keep speaking to me, please, until I come,” you pleaded.

“What would you like to speak about?” He asked, a knowing smirk on his face.

“Anything,” you said, hesitating for a moment before continuing. “And could you maybe do it in German?”

“Natürlich, kleine Taube. Ich glaube, du willst es härter, ja?” Now unable to understand him, the ferocious pace you were subjected to came without warning. You held onto the edges of the table, feeling the metal dig into your fingers as your grip tightened. Medic’s fingers pressed into the softness of your waist. You gasped when his nails dug in as well, adding a delightfully painful edge to the pleasure. “Das gefällt dir, nicht wahr?”

The pain was gone almost as suddenly as it began. You whined, unable to hide how much you had enjoyed the rougher treatment. It wasn’t long before you got another taste. Medic’s hands moved down to your ass, his nails leaving little crescent shaped indents in the supple flesh there as well. You were starting to pant, mouth agape and gasping as he suddenly lifted your hips upward.

“Gott, du hast so einen schönen Arsch. Das nächste Mal sollte ich dich von hinten nehmen.” This new angle proved to be very effective. You were much louder like this, his cock hitting all the right spots. Medic knew that if he were to simply touch your clit right now, you would be coming for him in seconds. However he wasn’t ready for this to end just yet.

Your moans were music to his ears. Should any of his fellow mercenaries pass by the infirmary right now, it wouldn’t be hard to determine just what was happening. The thought managed to rouse some envy in Medic. Your sweet sounds were for him alone. Perhaps it would be better to quiet you down for now. Leaning down, he pressed his lips roughly to yours, muffling your noises. You still whimpered between kisses, but they were soft and subtle, just barely loud enough to reach his ears.

“Magst du es, wenn ich dich küsse? Soll ich weitermachen?” he murmured, stealing another soul reaping kiss. This was quite liberating, being able to say whatever he wanted to you, only to watch you melt at the sound of it every time. “Du musst nicht antworten. Es ist für mich offensichtlich.”

You rolled your hips to meet his. He felt the way your muscles flexed under his hands, and he knew you were close. You whimpered and gasped, haphazardly bucking against him, chasing the last bit of sensation that would tip you over the edge. Your expression was a beautiful mix of desperate frustration and overwhelming pleasure. It was a sight that brought Medic dangerously close to losing control. Realizing he was reaching his limit, he finally showed you some mercy, knowing that the look on your face when you came would far outweigh anything he had yet seen.

“Komm für mich,” he groaned. One hand splayed out on your lower stomach, his thumb reached down to rub quick circles over your clit. You may not have known German, but you could most certainly infer what that meant. You shuddered, back arching, letting out a harsh sounding moan as your orgasm overtook you. “Du fühlst dich so gut an. Ich komme- scheiße!”

Now that you had reached your peak, Medic’s inhibitions seemed to be gone. He chased his own climax, thrusting into you roughly and unevenly. When he finally went still, you had practically gone limp beneath him, overstimulated and teary eyed. When he came you could have sworn he was even louder than you were. You almost wondered if he was playing it up, given your affinity for his voice, but on the other hand, Medic was loud and proud in most situations. It would only make sense that he was a bit of a screamer himself.

When he finally came down from his high he noticed how you were trembling. It was clear that your body was overwhelmed. A few tears managed to spill down your cheeks, even as a blissed out smile remained on your face. You probably didn’t even realize you were crying. Medic withdrew carefully, making an apologetic sound when you whimpered at the sensation.

“You’re going to be sore tomorrow,” he said, stating the obvious. Medic observed you for a moment, making sure you were alright, before you suddenly found yourself being hoisted against his chest. You wrapped your legs around his waist for stability as he lifted you off the table and carried you towards an offshoot of the infirmary. Before you could ask where he was going, or how the hell he had the strength left to carry you like this, Medic opened the door to reveal a small, but cozy room. This was clearly his personal quarters. It made sense that it would be part of the infirmary.

“Why are we here?” you asked. Your words were soft, as if raising your voice above a whisper might shatter the pleasant afterglow that had began to settle over you.

“It is quite late. The least I could do is let you stay the night.” Medic laid you down on the surprisingly plush mattress. This was luxury compared to your barracks. You stretched out before burrowing into the blankets letting them engulf you.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “For all of this. That was so good.”

“I had fun as well, mein Täubchen.”

That pet name was new. He had used it a few times tonight, but only now did it pique your interest. “What does that mean?” you asked.

Medic smiled softly. “My dove.”

“Oh,” you said, too flustered to say much else. Being compared to one of his beloved pets felt nice. It made you feel delicate, like something to be cared for.

“You blush so easily!” Medic said with pure glee. You almost expected him to pinch your cheeks. “I will definitely enjoy this side of you, liebe, so easy to tease!

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, trying to brush it off, even though you knew your face was practically glowing with the flush that you were sporting. “Maybe we can do more tomorrow. I’m exhausted.”

“Of course. This was quite an eventful day.” Medic kissed your forehead, an oddly tender gesture after all the rough treatment. “Get some rest. I will join you once I’ve cleaned up in the infirmary.”

Medic left and you closed your eyes. When he returned just a few minutes later you were already asleep, snoring softly in your sanctuary of pillows and blankets. He had never seen you so relaxed before. You murmured something unintelligible when Medic slipped under the covers beside you, whispering for you to go back to sleep as he draped an arm over you, feeling your body press closely against his in the peaceful darkness.

[jammiesjars]

NOT HISTORICALLY ACCURATE | MDNI

Warnings: Medium amount of plot?, horribly written medieval times smut, loss of innocence, virginity loss, female anatomy and terminology (??), unrealistic sex, slight coercion, breeding (only a little)

Seems to be the warrior’s picked you.

You were a shy thing. Didn’t get yourself involved in any social gatherings unless necessary, didn’t leave the safe confines of your modest hut unless dragged, and certainly didn’t talk to anyone unless by force.

You were polite, no doubt about it. And though as much as you hate it, people seemed to be drawn to you.

So when the cherished and highly praised warrior that John McTavish is decides he wants you, he will have just that.

It’s not even a question wether or not you want him. You wouldn’t deny the man his right to a pretty little bird like yourself, would you?

No matter, he’ll sneak around; arrange something with your parents so you won’t find out until its too late to stop your matrimony. But God, seeing you smile up at him so naively without a clue in the world that everynight he tugs at his thick cock to the mere thought of you in his arms makes him wish it’d happen sooner.

It was only a matter of time until you found out, anyway. Your parents were off planning some ‘suprise’, your mother teaching you about a wife’s duties all of a sudden and the whispers from the folk in the village only got louder.

“I can’t believe she’s marrying Johnny-“ the girl whispers to her friend, pointing at you.

Your blood runs hot, the same aching need you get when Johnny talks to you in a sultry tone shooting to your core at the mere mention of the rumor; at the idea of being his betrothed. And so you storm off to find him, barging into his office on the compound, blabblering about what you’ve overheard whilst he looks at you with a shit-eating grin.

“Have ye’ got an issue with that, M’eudail?” He’d drawl, his eyes glimmering with the same mischief you’ve come to know. “Don’t tell me yer suprised.”

“Johnny, you can’t be serious.” You’d breathe, the corset taught around your waist suddenly feels ten times tighter, and the furs settled on your shoulders 10 pounds heavier.

“Am always serious about ye, Lass.” He’d coo, leaning back in his chair. He beckons you closer with his hand. “Why? Don’t tell me ye fancy another lad, birdie.” He’d grunt, his calloused hands from years of battle pawing at your hips.

His touch brings out that familiar ache; a coiling need. One you never understood, never knew how to satisfy. “No..“ You’d breathe, responding to his call and stepping into his reach. “But I deserved to know, you cant keep tha-“

You’re silence by a low groan from Johnny. “Och. Quit worrying so much and let yer husband do the thinkin’. Be a good girl and let me take care of ye.”

Playful blue eyes meet yours.

“Keep bein’ at my beck and call, jus’ like ye are now. I’ll do the rest.”

Christ, you’re sure you’ll melt into the floor here and now. It’s not like you can deny anyway, you found out too late. Just as planned. That aching feeling is amplified tenfold and you know Johnny can tell.

He offers a lopsided grin. “Yer all worked up, aren’t ye?” It’s almost a growl. “Don’t worry, lass. I’ll take ye on the altar if you’d ask. I’ll make sure ye never have to go without once yer mine.”

He’d pull you close, so tender despite the vulgarity he whispers in your ear. And above all, you have no clue what he’s talking about.

Even unluckier for you, the scot picks up on that. “Oh, Mo Gràidh..” he’d purr, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Bet ye ache, don’t ye? You’re poor cunt..” He’d tut, shaking his head.

“Do ye know what that feelin’ is, lass?” His eyes hold a dangerous gleam, to which you shake your head and he looks like he could salivate. “C’mere. Let me take a look at ye.”

He flips you around to press your hands to his desk, whilst he’s holding your hips. He flips up your skirts. “Johnny-“

“Quit yer whining, im doing ye a favour.” He coos, hiking up your petticoat and layers underneath to reveal your glistening cunt. “Ain’t that a sight for yer sore eyes..” He almost chokes on his words.

The man had plans, intentions, to wait until your wedding night. To take it nice and slow with deep languid thrusts that had you seeing stars. All of that was thrown out the window as he took in the sight of your untouched opening.

“Ye trust me, lassie?” Johnny grunts.

“Johnny, I-“

He grips your thigh.

“Tryna be nice here, pretty. But it’s damn hard.” He growls. “Do ye trust me?”

You swallow your pride, nodding.

“Oh,” he groans at the confirmation. “Good girl..” Large hands grip your thighs so his tongue can lick a fat stripe up your cunt. The taste of you is so right to him, so… perfect. You were built for him only and he knows it; fated to be his pretty little wife he can come home to after battle.

You’re moaning, biting on your hand to muffle the sound. By god, you’ve never felt anything like this.

Then suddenly, it’s gone.

“Shouldn’t do this to ye, lass. Not one bit. Not proper of me at all, aye?” He pants, leaning back. You almost choke on nothing at the loss of his tongue.

He pulls your skirts down, flipping you back around. “Promise ye. I’ll never let ye go needy once I get that ring on ye finger. Just a couple for days, mo gràidh..”

He’s pressing his face against your stomach, arms keeping you standing between his legs.

“Right…” You pant softly, the loudest sound in the room.

So did you go through with the wedding without a single complaint? Yes. Could you even say you enjoyed it? Sure.

But what came after? That was the entire focus of the evening, apparently.

“Oh, I remember my wedding night..” Older folks would gush.

“Tell us all about it!” Married friends would tease and prod.

You were fed up. What was to come? (You, many times) You couldn’t seem to figure it out, not even as Johnny sat you on the bed with darkened eyes and a firm tone. “

Strip, lovie. Don’t make me do it for ye.”

“J-johnny-“ You mewl, sweat clinging to your body. Your wedding dress is long forgotten on the floor with John’s kilt.

“I got ye, M’eudail. Let go f’me.” John murmurs against your clit that he was just sucking on, whilst his fingers are pressing up into that sweet spongey spot inside of you.

You grip his hair, the feeling making you want to tug him off. “Wait-“ you whimper, hips bucking to chase the feeling that so desperately confuses you.

Johnny doubles his efforts, the smug bastard. “Oh, sweet girl..” There’s that shit eating grin again as he watches you from between your legs as your back arches off the bed. “Troublin’, hm? Don’t know what to do with yerself.” He tuts. “Let go, lass. Let me think for ye.”

His words have you cumming quicker than you’d care to admit.

“Don’t even know what yer feelin’, do ye?” He murmurs, his scottish brogue heavy with lust. “Mm.. ma sweet wifey.” He rides you through your orgasm with lanquid strokes of his thick fingers before climbing up the bed so his forearms rest either side of your head.

“Look at ye…” He grins down at you whilst you catch your breath; utterly ruined. He pushes your hair behind your ear, pressing a sweet kiss to your swollen lips. How awfully tender, considering he just gave you your first orgasm.

“Johnny..” you mewl, hands coming to rest on his broad shoulders. You can feel the thick cords of muscle roll beneath your palms

“Aye, sweetheart. Right ‘ere.” He grunts, reaching a hand down to pump his stupidly thick cock a few times. “Deep breath, lassie. Dinnae go stupid on me.” He coos. He presses at your poor, weeping cunt; his tip slick with precum.

He begins to press in, earning a broken whimper from you.

“Johnny-“ you gasp. “I can’t- I can’t take it-“

“Nae. Don’t say that, Mo Gràidh. Little more. Jus’ for me.” He groans, hissing lowly at how perfect you squeeze him; you were made for him.

You cling to anything for purchase, your jaw slack and eyelids fluttering shut. “No, no no-“

“Ye can take it, good girl… relax for me, lass. Let me in.” He grunts, his words an attempt so soothe your panicked confusion.

“Feels good, yeah? Too much to handle, aye?” He soothes, his gaze piercing as he looks down at you. “I’ve got ye. You’re doing so damn well, shh sh shh…”

You softly gasp, your grip tight as he bottoms out. It doesn’t let up, especially as Johnny decides you can handle even more, and starts pulling out slowly before pressing in again until your hips click together.

“Aren’t ye just fuckin perfect? Aye- look at me. In my eyes, pretty girl. Ye, tell ye husband how good he makes ye feel. Tell me lass.” He coos, a hand lacing into your hair.

“S-so good-“ you whine, hips bucking. “Johnny-“ you choke, his slow, sensual movements becoming more primal.

“That’s right,” He groans, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder. Johnny’s pants are much more obvious as you feel his breath against his shoulder. “Makin’ ye feel so good. Pussy clampin’ around me like a fuckin’ vice.” He groans, his cock pummeling your poor cunt again and again, his pace never slowing.

“Gonna fill ye up nicely. Make you a mam to me heirs..” He growls, his hips stuttering as you cum.

Its a burning hot pleasure that rips through your body, making you feel weak in the legs.

“Ooh,” Johnny intertwines his hand with yours. “There we go… lettin’ go for me like a good girl would. Gonna fuck ye stupid one day, love. Make ye forget ye name.” He growls, his hips slamming against yours as his seed spurts inside you.

“Such a good wifey..”

[icallhimjoey]

Explain Us

♥ ♥  Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: So, more than flatmates... but, what exactly? Would be fantastic if you would just, you know, talk about it. But communicating is not your strong suit and you're extremely certain that it's fine. Confusing and vague, but, fine.

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, a continuation of define close, no need to read it to enjoy this, though it will help! 18+ smut! (just a little! but it's a start!)

Author’s note: "am i gonna have to buy into the concept of sleeping next to him but just kissing?" no :) of course not :))))

Wordcount: 3.2K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Big mistake. Massive error. Huge miscalculation.

Shouldn’t have done that.

Why did you do that?

All the things you wouldn’t even let your own inner monologue sound out were now just... out there. Vocalised into the ether. Swirling around in the air of the flat. The very one where Joe lived too, and maybe they’d end up finding their way into Joe’s ears eventually – not how it worked, you were very aware, but, a new fear had been awakened anyway.

Fuck.

You shouldn’t have told her.

And it was Joe’s fault too!

Not really. But, sort of. You were blaming him for all of it, anyway. If he hadn’t decided that your friend being out of the room for just a second was enough time to let hands wander, she would never have seen. Would never have given you that look. Would never have asked you the question you knew she was keeping inside of her mouth until Joe’d left.

“So... what’s going on with you and Joe?”

Breathe, you stupid bitch. Remain calm.

“Nothing.”

It was silly how fast you cracked. An eye-roll and a pointed look later had you bashfully confess that, yea all right, there was something going on with you and Joe. You just didn’t really know if you could explain it properly.

“The way you quickly stepped away from him when I walked back in, I fucking knew something was up. Try me.”

“No, but it’s really complicated...”

“I said, try me.”

And well. Turns out, in a huge what-the-fuck moment, it wasn’t at all that complicated actually. You told her that you and Joe got cosy and watched films a lot. Cuddled up and fell asleep on each other on the daily. Slept in the same bed a lot. All the time, now, actually, because it was just nicer than sleeping alone. But you weren’t like, together or anything.

You rambled.

And your friend watched you in silence.

And, yea sure, sometimes you kissed, but it was like, you know, how friends kiss each other sometimes. Quick pecks. Like stage kisses. Joe was an actor. It didn’t really mean anything.

“You... you kiss like friends kiss?”

“Yea,” you shrugged, picked a little bit of food of a forgotten dinner plate to appear more casual about all of it. To really sell that it wasn’t a big deal to you.

“Or like, how you’d kiss a parent, you know?”

Your friend watched you a second, and then challengingly went, “All right. Kiss me like you’d kiss Joe.” before leaning over a little in her seat, ready for a smooch.

And then you paused, and you shouldn’t have. The pause gave everything away. It made your friend burst out laughing instantly.

“You don’t kiss like friends do!” she accused, but you were already wiping your hands and reaching for her face. You could plant one smacker right on her lips to convince her of your innocence if you had to. Sure. Why not.

“No, come here, I’ll show you.”

“Ew fuck off,” she laughed. “Next you’ll finger me on the sofa.”

And–

Um.

What?

Your friend was about to go for a sip of her drink when she saw your face, and then lowered her glass as her eyes grew to twice their size.

“Oh no, you’ve let him finger you on the sofa?”

You had.

You fucking had.

But you weren’t going to fucking tell her.

You felt heat flush your face, and shut the fuck up, you could not blush in front of her. She'd know! Your panic made her exclaim your name loudly, like she couldn’t believe what the fuck this well of information she’d just fallen into even was. But there was a wild joy there too. Like she was loving this obvious mess of a weird relationship you had with your flatmate, and was so excited to be discovering all of these crazy secrets.

You didn’t blame her.

“No,” you started, trying to be as convincing as you could. “I’ve not let him fi–” her laugh interrupted you, and you didn’t like how contagious it was. You tried again, trying to speak over your own and her laughter, “He has not fingered me on the sofa.”

He had.

“Oh?”

“... what?”

“Not on the sofa? But, elsewhere, he has?”

That too.

“Stop it!” you exclaimed, getting up to clear the table. “Of course he hasn’t, we’re flatmates for fuck’s sake!”

A pair of eyes narrowed at you in suspicion.

“You sure?”

“Oh, my God. Imagine if I wasn’t?” You laughed, and she laughed with you. It deflated the tension you felt in your gut from lying by just enough to keep the nervous sweat from your brow.

You diverted the attention to different things quite quickly, and your friend soon dropped the whole ordeal, what with it being obvious that it was clearly making you uncomfortable. Your adamant denying was no fun to listen to anyway.

But something nagged at you.

Why had she immediately assumed there was more to you and Joe and then... didn’t seem all that fussed?

Well, she did seem fussed. But she also didn’t.

She hadn’t even asked if you liked him. If you were into Joe like that. Like it wasn’t really a huge deal.

Which, yea, she was right, because it wasn’t. You’d been telling yourself it wasn’t. Spent a lot of time convincing yourself that it wasn’t.

But how come it took her only two seconds to agree with you before she swiftly carried on talking about her own problems?

It bothered you more than you let on, and it kind of simmered on in the back of you mind for the rest of the evening. Kept you staring into space and not really listening to whatever she was telling you. Had you almost consider confessing that, actually, you lied and Joe had fingered you on the sofa. Big whoops. And right where she was sitting, too.

It kind of gradually happened a couple weeks ago and you hadn’t talked about it afterwards.

Of course you hadn’t.

You never talked.

But you should have.

Not that you’d know what to say.

What would you even say?

Thank you?

You’d done that once, and Joe had been all weird after.

You didn’t talk going into anything, and you didn’t talk after. And it had all been fine up until... well, now, probably.

No.

Actually... it was still fine.

Right?

You were just flatmates who did things sometimes. No judgement. Just in the moment enjoyment and comfortability. A natural fluidity that had just grown between the two of you over time.

You tried to shake it off as you got ready for bed in Joe’s bedroom on your own. Joe was still out. Would be for a little while too. Night shoot, or a party, something. Whatever. You’d not paid attention because your heart had been in your throat as he explained where he was going. Your friend had just seen the two of you jump apart in the kitchen when she walked back in, and so focusing on whatever information Joe was giving you was a little too big of an ask.

But then you couldn’t shake it off.

Because even though Joe had made the comment that his bed had started smelling of you now, Joe’s bed still smelled of Joe to you, and now every single thing that had lingered in the back of your mind got hurled right into the forefront.

That day.

That first time.

You’d been in such an awful mood that day. Ended up having to work late to rectify mistakes others had made, and then, when you finally got home, were met by a full sink of dishes in the kitchen, dirty plates and glasses on the counter right next to it. There was evidence of Joe having started trying to tidy it all up, but then clearly, he hadn’t finished the job.

When you opened the dishwasher you knew why.

It was full of clean but still wet dishes that he hadn’t wanted to towel dry before putting it all away.

Great.

Sometimes having a flatmate was great.

Other times, it was really fucking annoying.

“Joe?” you called, using a dirty fork to check if any of the dishes inside of the sink were yours.

“Yea?”

He was reading something aloud in his bedroom when you’d walked in, and you knew you were interrupting him as he did his job. But, fuck it. None of these dishes were yours.

“Would you mind not being the worst flatmate tonight?”

Harsh. But Joe jogged in and knew exactly what you meant, “Yea, sure, in a second. Look what I got!”

In a second.

Ugh.

Joe walked over to the TV and then stepped aside to reveal a small plant.

You gave it a dry stare before sarcastically commenting, “Wonderful.” and turning around to begrudgingly start on the dishes yourself.

“What? You were saying how this area needed some greenery, did you not?” Joe touched one of the green leafs proudly. He really thought he picked a good one.

“Yea,” you scoffed. “But I meant like, a big palm for in the corner, or one of those, I don’t know, huge monstera ones, with the big leafs, that can grow up to the ceiling.” You complained. Loved complaining for a second. Really enjoyed swimming in negativity as you fished all dirty dishes from the sink and placed them with the plates and glasses on the side.

“Yea, I guess that would be more impressive than this,” Joe said softly, still looking at the little asplenium. He’d picked the pot himself too, and the lady said that the small plant was called crispy wave and wasn’t that just exactly the right description for it too? “But we could do both. We could still get a larger one for next to it. And then it’ll have a buddy.”

You barely heard Joe over the clattering of cutlery in the sink.

“Hey, I said I’d do that in a second,” Joe finally zoned back in after a particular loud clang and made his way over.

“Yea but I didn’t ask you to not be the worst flatmate tonight in a second, though, did I? Have to do everything in this fucking place.”

You didn’t. You knew that. But it was negativity hours and Joe was just going to have to understand you didn’t mean half the shit you were going to be moaning about.

You pushed dishes aside on the counter to make room for a handful of forks and knives whilst Joe got his hands on your shoulders, doing his best to carefully move you aside.

“Let me–”

“No, you’ll just–”

The loud smash of a glass to tile interrupted you. Slipped right off the edge of the counter. It was one of Joe’s nicer ones. One that looked like a vintage tumbler – it wasn’t actually vintage – that he kept out on display on one of the shelves.

The both of you just stared at it for a second, and then you decided that you couldn’t actually deal with any of the mess. The dirty dishes. Joe’s stupid small plant. The broken glass. Shards all over the kitchen floor.

So you just, left.

Turned around and walked right into the hallway.

Left Joe alone to deal with the ramifications of which you would argue were his own doing.

Shouldn’t have left all this mess.

Shouldn’t have all of his friends over for lunch just because he could.

Shouldn’t have used his nice tumblers.

And people at work shouldn’t be such fucking idiots.

The universe was awful and everyone could die.

There.

But then, before you’d even walked into your bedroom, you’d already decided it was actually all your fault, and Joe’d done nothing wrong, and you were going to get him a new tumbler.

You took a minute to breathe. To sit within your feelings. Wiped a stupid tear from your eye before it could fall down. Changed into something more comfortable and raked a brush through your hair in an attempt to detangle the day out of it.

When you walked back into the living area, Joe was stood hunched beside the counter, probably inspecting the floor for bits of forgotten glass, which was... just perfect.

You walked over in silence and then simply just, climbed on board. Slung your arms around his neck and let your full bodyweight sink onto his back as you pulled your knees up and around his sides.

“Hey, wha–”

Joe nearly lost his balance and shot one hand out to a cabinet to keep himself steady whilst the other one grabbed onto one of your arms.

“What’s going on? Everything okay?”

Your chest tightened at how worried and sincere he sounded.

Joe stood up straight, and got both his arms around your legs to keep you in place on his back.

“I’ll replace it.” you murmured.

“The glass?”

Joe felt you nod against the side of his head as you cheek pressed against one of his ears.

“Ah, s’just a glass, don’t worry about it.”

“And your plant’s cute.”

It was as close to an apology as he was going to get from you. Joe felt you sigh against him and he turned his head in an attempt to look at you.

“Have you eaten?” he asked softly.

You had. Stupid tesco’s meal deal at your desk. You understood why he asked though.

“Mhmm.” you confirmed.

“Good. You ready for dessert?”

Joe let you hold onto him, but it quickly became impossible to stay in your piggyback position. You nearly choked him as you attempted to stay on, but you slid off when he started emptying the dishwasher.

You both laughed, and then you snorted, and then you both laughed at how you’d snorted.

Joe’d gotten little pots of chocolate mousse, the cheap stuff that your mother used to pretend was a special dessert for special occasions only which you believed until you were a teenager. Felt silly now, but they still felt a little special. You had yours sat at the island whilst you watched Joe clean the kitchen.

Got to stare at how his muscles moved underneath his white T-shirt.

How his hands moved as he grabbed onto things.

His fingers.

When Joe closed the loaded dishwasher and turned around, he was met with his flatmate’s half-lidded eyes. His flatmate who had her head propped up in a hand, who had her spoon hanging from her mouth.

Joe theatrically spread his arms out and gave a little bow.

“There. All tidy. Not the worst flatmate tonight.”

He truly wasn’t.

Even if he’d left the mess for what it was.

Joe didn’t even need to suggest spending the rest of the night on the sofa together. It’s where you naturally migrated to as you had your last spoonful of dessert and he wiped down the counters to really finish off the job.

You’d sat down first, and when Joe let himself fall into the cushions beside you, he leant into you a little and stuck his chin out. When you just looked at him a second, he tapped his cheek with a finger, asking for a little thank you kiss. It instantly made you grin.

It was stupid how large the shift in your mood was from when you’d walked in earlier.

But look at him!

All... cheeky and cute.

It was kind of impossible not to cheer up just by being around him.

And cheeky was right, because when you easily gave in and went to press a kiss to his cheek, Joe turned his head at the last moment and got you right on the lips.

You gasped, said his little plant wasn’t that nice, which made him laugh loudly, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut.

Making Joe laugh like that was different. Made you feel all giddy and secretly proud as you got comfortable in your little spot on the sofa.

“All right, I’ll move it to where you won’t have to look at it all the time.” Joe joked. You frowned, asked, “Where?” because the flat wasn’t that big. You’d see it all the time no matter where it would be.

“I don’t know,” Joe said, moving a throw pillow and stuffing it behind his back. “Your bedroom, maybe.”

Oh.

Yea, all right.

“Fuck off.”

You gave Joe a deadpan stare as he giggled, far too happy with his own little joke.

Even though lighthearted and sort of adorable, that got a little too close to acknowledging what you were doing.

You didn’t talk.

Well, you talked, but never about it. And you liked it that way.

Once you and Joe got close, you kind of didn’t want to stay away anymore. Speaking thoughts, and feelings, and rational musings into the air might make you decide on silly shit like, maybe you shouldn’t anymore.

Maybe you shouldn’t have Joe squeeze a hand in between your legs just above your knees for comfort.

Maybe you shouldn’t get cosy and rub your cupid’s bow against his bicep as Joe flicked through channels.

Maybe you shouldn’t so readily accept kisses pressed into your hair, and maybe you shouldn’t hum to them either. Close your eyes to them. Tip your head back to look Joe in the eye and kiss him on the mouth after.

Maybe you shouldn’t let Joe snake an arm across your waist and tuck his fingers into the elastic waist band of your joggers as you lazily make out on the sofa for a bit.

What you definitely shouldn’t have done, was nudge closer and open your legs a little as you felt Joe’s fingers press into the skin just above your underwear.

Shouldn’t have nodded when Joe rested his forehead against yours for a second and whispered a breathy, “Yea?”

Shouldn’t have gasped as Joe touched you over your underwear first.

Absolutely shouldn’t have moaned as Joe moved fabric aside.

Shouldn’t have whispered his name when you noticed how he was biting back his own groans.

Shouldn’t have redirected his thumb when it wasn’t really in the right spot, and then really shouldn’t have shuddered when it found exactly the right spot.

But it had happened.

And then you didn’t talk after.

Should have.

Didn’t.

And then it happened a bunch more.

Shouldn’t have.

But did.

And now your friend sort of knew, and why the fuck had she not reacted in the way that you thought she would react? Was this not a huge deal?!

You laid in Joe’s bed, in one of Joe’s T-shirts, surrounded by Joe’s things, and, no. It was all too much. And he wasn’t even there.

For the first time in weeks you decided to leave Joe’s bed for what it was and go across the hall to find your own to sleep in.

It felt a little like getting into a hotel bed. Not quite like your own, but comfortable none the less.

The last thing you saw before you switched off the lights was that stupid little plant that Joe had put on your dresser.

Big mistake.

Shouldn’t have done that.

---

The Taglisted

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taglist currently full, sorry

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Midnight | Chapter 18 | S.R

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Chapter Summary - whilst trying to clean up the mess you made, Luke makes a discovery. Spencer and Luke have it out before Spencer comes to a realisation about his mental state.

A/N - chapter starts just before the end of the last chapter as reader is storming away from Luke.

Pairing - unsub! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | very eventual happy ending

Warnings - use of “bitch” and “whore” (not towards reader), mentions of sexual assault, blackmail, swearing, murder, blood, PTSD, talk of split personas and alter egos. WC - 4.7k

Chapter 18 - Uncontainable

When you stormed away from Luke back towards the cabin, the raised voice coming from inside stopped you in your tracks as you reached the front porch. All your years of FBI training kicked in at that moment and you slowly and cautiously crept to the window. 

The first thing you saw was a wave of bright red hair flashing before your eyes as the person it belonged to moved frantically back and forth. But it soon became clear she wasn’t moving of her own accord. 

Spencer, who was only wearing a pair of underwear, shook her by her wrist somewhat violently, yelling in her face. 

“Listen you little bitch, do you have any idea how many people are actually assaulted every day? How many don’t report it because they’re scared they won’t be believed? And you want to use their real pain for your own sick gain?”

You frowned at his words, trying to deduce what they were arguing about whilst also making sure you didn’t make a sound. 

“You know you’re not helping yourself right? If you bruise me it’ll only make my story seem more believable.” Mary spat back at him and you saw Spencer quickly let her go. “And don’t think I haven’t seen the bruises on your lovely wife. I’m sure she would back up my story.” 

Story? What story? Was she exploiting Spencer? Had Luke told her who you really were and now she was trying to blackmail him? He said something about unreported assaults, was she going to tell people he assaulted her? 

“The only story she would back up is the one where you’re a desperate little whore who shamelessly wanted to fuck a man you perceived to married.” He barked at her. 

“Well I guess we’ll see won’t we? Who’s going to believe the strange out of towner over the young, innocent girl.” 

That was all you needed to hear. You could put an end to this, clear up this mess before it got out of hand. 

You crept around the side of the cabin and let yourself in the back gate. You made sure to walk silently up the spiral staircase that led to the first floor patio and thank god you’d been too drunk to think about locking the bedroom doors last night. 

You snuck inside and quickly found the SIG in Spencer’s nightstand. You’d done this so many times before, sneaking up on an unsub, it was like second nature. Breathe through your nose, steady, shallow breaths. Feet barely ghosting the floor. Do not make a sound. Keep the gun pointing straight ahead. 

You silently made it down the stairs and you heard her voice again as you reached the kitchen door. 

“I told you I want out of this town. I work three jobs and I am nowhere close to having enough. Finding out your little secret is the best thing that could have happened to me. So if you don’t give me what I want, I will disgrace the former FBI agent Spencer Reid and tell everyone that you raped me. Ten grand should do it.” 

You could feel the anger rolling off of Spencer in waves before you even entered the room. He would see you the second you stepped inside and you had to hope he could control his facial expressions long enough so Mary wouldn’t see you coming. 

“Let’s just talk about this, please?” He was begging her as you slowly pushed open the door. His eyes flicked over toward you and you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. 

“No, no more talking. You pay me now or I will go straight to the cops.” 

You cocked the gun and if she heard it, it would have been too late. You aimed at the back of her head and pulled the trigger without hesitation. The sound of the gunshot rang out through the room as the bullet hit its target and continued careening out the front of her skull towards the wall. 

She made a pathetic gasping sound as her body crumbled to the floor right at Spencer’s feet. The shock was written all across his face as he looked up at you, still holding the smoking gun in your hand. 

You tucked it in your waistband and strolled closer to Spencer whose mouth was hanging open and wide eyes glared at you in a stupor. 

“W-what did you…? Why did you?” He croaked out as you stepped closer, not a single hint of remorse in your eyes. 

“Karma’s a bitch.” You shrugged simply. “And so was she.” 

“Are you insane?” He yelled in exasperation. “We don’t kill close to home! How are we supposed to talk our way out of this?”

Her blood was splattered across his bare torso and arms, but he didn’t seem to notice, his frustration taking precedence. 

“She was threatening you! What was I supposed to do? Let her tell the whole town you raper her? Or let you fork over all of our cash to keep her quiet?” You glared at him. 

“Fuck, Y/N, this is bad.” He scratched his head, trying to formulate a plan. “We need to clean this up. We need to make sure every inch of this cabin is as clean as when we found it. We need to get her body in the trunk of the car, we need to dispose of it, and then we need to leave town.” 

“Leave town? That will only make us look more guilty.” You scoffed. 

“By the time they figure out she’s missing we will be so far away from here, they will never find us. And with any luck the freaking BAU won’t find us again either!” He spat. 

You rolled your lip between your teeth and took a step back.

“You know that Luke was here.” You looked guilty. 

“Yes, Y/N I do. Fuck, this is falling apart like a house of goddamn cards.” 

“I’m…I'm sorry.” You swallowed thickly, your previous bravado fading around you. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Hey, hey. It’s ok.” He stepped around Mary’s body closer to you, suddenly softening. “You were trying to help.” 

He cupped your cheek in his hand and held you so gently you could cry. He looked at you as though you hung the moon, his love for you so painfully clear at that moment. 

“I fucked up, Spence.” Your bottom lip quivered. 

“And we’ll fix it. Together, ok? We’re in this together, sweetheart. I promise you we will figure this out.” He leant closer to you and pressed his lips to yours. 

You believed him, you had no reason not to. If anyone was going to be able to set this right it was Spencer. When the two of you worked together, it was some kind of magic. With Spencer on your side this didn’t seem quite as daunting as it actually was. 

***

Luke’s cell phone rang as he was letting himself back into the hire car. He grinded his teeth, not particularly wanting to talk to anyone right now. 

His encounter with you had left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. He knew there was something bigger at play here, he knew Spencer had done something, he just had no idea how to prove it. 

He slid into the driver's seat and pulled his phone from his pocket, brows furrowing instantly when he saw the name on the display. He gnawed his bottom lip and answered it, placing the device to his ear. 

“Phil?” He ran his fingers over his stubble. 

“Hey man,” Phil’s voice lacked its usual bounce and under normal circumstances Luke would have asked what was wrong but it was the least of his concerns right now. 

“I’m sorry now really isn’t a good time.” Luke slotted the key in the ignition but didn’t start the engine. 

“I really need to talk to you.” 

“I’m up to my eyes in a case, I’ll call as soon I’m-”

“It’s about Duncan Green.” Phil cut him off. 

Luke’s hand that was still on the key fell to his lap as his blood froze in his veins. It had been several years since he’d last heard that name but it didn’t make it any less sinister. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Luke leant back against the chair, gaze somewhere out of the window but not focused on anything. He could feel every erratic beat of his heart. 

“A body was found in a shallow grave in the Rio Grande National Forest in Colorado. We got a call after local cops got a match to his prints.” Phil’s tone was morose, not at all how Luke expected him to react to this. 

“He’s dead?” Luke wanted to jump for joy but he put the party on hold. He could tell there was something Phil wasn’t saying. 

“Had his throat cut. He’s been living in Albuquerque under the assumed name of Matthew Richards since his escape from prison.” 

Luke closed his eyes, holding the phone in a vice like grip. Green had been murdered, his body found in Colorado. He took a deep breath and tried to keep his cool, at least for the time being. 

“Is it a coincidence or do you think someone tracked him down?” Luke kept his eyes squeezed tightly shut. 

“I don’t believe in coincidences. The bureau still has sightings of him come in everyday but you know we can’t check out every lead, it would be impossible. But the Green case was accessed just a few weeks ago and again a week ago by the same government login details.” Phil’s voice sounded even more sullen. 

“Who’s were they?” Luke held his breath, already having a pretty good idea of what he might say. 

“L. Alvez.” Phil sighed as he spoke. 

Luke opened his eyes, slamming his hand violently against the steering wheel and letting out an animalistic groan. 

“Fuck.” He spat, slamming the wheel again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“I can only assume it wasn’t you?”

“Of course it wasn’t me!” Luke spat, pinching the bridge of his nose firmly between his fingers. 

There were only two people who he could think of that would have accessed that file. You knew him well enough to assume his login password, like it wouldn’t be hard for him to guess yours. And Spencer was a goddamn genius and it wouldn’t be at all difficult for him to figure it out. 

He had a post it note on his desk at work, hidden under his keyboard with his password scrawled on it, even though he knew it was dumb to do so. Realistically anyone at the BAU could have found it and logged onto the database as him but you and Spencer were the only ones who had the motive to do so. 

Green killed your sister, it wasn’t a far stretch to think you would have wanted him dead. And if Spencer was really in love with you, maybe he’d do just about anything for you, including finding the monster who ruined your life. 

He took a few deep breaths to try and compose himself before he spoke again. 

“How far is the National Forest from Crested Butte?” He grumbled, still pinching his nose. 

“Uh, why?” Phil’s tone was riddled with confusion.

“Just look, please?” 

“Fine, let me check.” Phil started tapping away at a keyboard for a moment or two before he spoke again. “About one hundred and sixty miles south, give or take.” 

“Goddamnit.” Luke hit the steering wheel again. 

“You gonna fill me in on what angle you’re working here, Alvez?” 

“I…no not yet.” Luke shook his head. “I gotta go.” 

“Alvez, tell me what you’re thinking.” Phil remained calm. 

“I can’t. Not yet. I need to piece this together first.”

“I can help you.” 

“No, you can’t. I’ll call you later.” Luke quickly pulled the phone away from his ear and hung up, smacking the wheel several more times. “God-fucking-damnit Y/N, what have you done?” 

Suddenly he grabbed the keys back out of the ignition and was hurling himself onto the street and marching in the direction of your cabin. 

***

Spencer closed every single one of the curtains on the house just to be sure. He wiped the residual blood off his torso, he’d shower properly later as he was bound to get dirty again, and threw on a pair of jeans and a hoodie, foregoing a shirt. 

While he was busy doing that, you laid out garbage bags and wrapped Mary’s dead body in them, sealing every inch to ensure no more unnecessary blood leaked out. You dragged her dead weight through to the kitchen, on your way towards the back door when there was a sudden and rampant knocking at the door. 

You froze in your tracks just as Spencer appeared at the top of the stairs. He looked at you, now covered in Mary’s blood after wrapping her up. He slowly padded downstairs, as quietly as possible in the hopes whoever was at the door would think you were out. 

But then they knocked again. 

“Y/N, I know you’re in there! Open the door!” Luke’s voice carried through to you both. 

“Shit.” You hissed, ducking below the kitchen counter even though the curtains were drawn. 

“He’s not gonna leave easily.” Spencer sighed, looking down at himself to ensure there was no visible blood. “You stay here, it’s about time Luke and I had it out anyway.” 

“Spencer, there’s a blood pool in the middle of the room and a fucking bullet in the wall!” You reminded him, glaring at him from the floor where Mary’s trash bag covered body was laying next to you. 

“Shit,” he groaned. “You’re right. If I open the door he might try and force his way in.” 

“Y/N! Open this goddamn door!” Luke yelled louder this time. 

“I’ll go round back, it might look suspicious but it’s better than the alternative.” He nodded to himself. “Stay here and don’t make a sound.” 

“Spencer!” You whined, halting him in his tracks. “I’m scared.” 

He rolled his lip between his teeth and moved closer to you, dropping to his knees next to you and cupping your face. 

“I’m going to take care of it sweetheart. I promise you, everything is going to be ok.” He placed a chaste kiss on your forehead before standing back up and you watched him stroll out of the kitchen towards the back door. 

You whimpered a little when Luke knocked again, heavier and angrier than before. You held your breath, moving to a sitting position on the kitchen floor and drawing your legs up to your chest and leaning back against the cupboard.

Spencer marched through the garden and out of the side gate, ready to face Luke for hopefully the final time. 

“Y/N open the fucking door! I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me!” Luke slammed his palms against the door just as Spencer was rounding the house and stopped at the bottom of the porch steps. 

“You’re gonna be here a long time then.” He folded his arms across his chest and he saw Luke tense at the sound of his voice. 

Slowly, the older man turned to face him, hands going to his hips and squaring his shoulders. 

“Where is she?” Luke spat. 

“That's none of your concern.” Spencer kept his cool, he needed to keep his anger bottled up if he was going to get through his encounter. 

“She’s my friend.” He folded his arms too.

“But she’s my wife.” Spencer smirked, unfolding his own arms and proffering his ring finger toward Luke.

“You and I both know that’s not real.” Luke scoffed. 

“It’s a symbol, Alvez. She loves me and who knows, maybe one day we’ll make it real. So stop chasing her down like a pathetic love struck puppy. She doesn’t want you, man, deal with it.” Spencer shrugged, offering him a slightly sympathetic smile. 

“You think that’s what this is about? You think I came all this way because I want to win her heart? We’re not in high school, Reid.” He rolled his eyes. 

“I think you’re jealous and you’re concocting scenarios in your head as a way of making yourself feel better when the truth is, Y/N and I just wanted to get away from it all. From you all. Do us a favour and leave us alone, Alvez. We don’t need you chasing after us.” Spencer spat as Luke headed down the front steps towards him.

“So it’s just a coincidence that Duncan Green turned up dead in the same state you and Y/N decided to call home?” 

Spencer’s breath caught in his throat. It felt like a trap, he needed to pick his words very carefully. He made sure to keep his expression unchanged, didn’t even so much as blink at Luke’s words but inside he was panicking. 

Just take a breath. Calm down. Don’t rise to it. 

“Who?” Spencer hid the recognition from his face, but Luke still saw through it. 

“Don’t play dumb, Reid. It doesn’t suit you.” Luke rolled his eyes. “Duncan Green, the man who killed Y/N’s sister, who broke out of prison and who we were chasing at the FTF for years. He was found with his throat cut less than two hundred miles from here and my user was the last to look him up. All seems a little coincidental doesn’t it?” 

“Right, yeah Y/N has told me about him. What are you implying, Alvez?” Spencer cocked his eyebrow. “You think, what? I killed him? Oh come on, do you really believe I’m capable of something like that?” 

“The thing is, I’m not sure what you’re capable of. I thought I knew you both but I’m not so sure anymore.” Luke shook his head. “Some twenty two year old told me you were sleeping with her. Some diner guy told me Y/N said you were a bully. Hell, the guy at the used car lot thought she was scared of you! All that makes me think that maybe I never really knew you.” 

Don’t let him break you, Reid, do not give him anything. 

“Luke with all due respect, why are listening to these morons over me? You do know me, and you know I’m not capable of killing someone.” 

Luke’s expression faltered and Spencer breathed a small sigh of relief, seeing a light at the end of the tunnel. He just had to stick the landing, don’t fumble it at the last hurdle. 

“I really don’t know what to think, Spencer. Of course I don’t want to believe you’re capable of something like this but there are just so many things that don’t add up here. And I swear to god if you did kill Green and you’ve put Y/N in danger, I will make it my life’s work to put you back in prison for the rest of your life.” Luke spat, his expression one Spencer had seen him use many times in interrogations. 

Spencer took a step back as a smirk twitched at his lips. He shrugged his shoulders at Luke. 

“You’re not as intimidating as you think you are, Alvez. And I can promise you, if I had done something, you would never get me back inside a prison cell.” He took a few more steps back and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Now if you’d kindly get the hell out of here and leave us alone.” 

Spencer turned on his heels and started back towards the side gate. He thought Luke might have more to say, he heard the other man grunting in frustration behind him, like he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. 

He threw open the gate and bolted it behind him, not slowing as he traversed the backyard and made his way inside the cabin, locking the back door behind him. He found you more or less where he left you, cowering on the kitchen floor next to the garbage bag stuffed with Mary’s corpse. 

You looked up at him, bottom lip quivering as you hugged your legs to your chest. It was such a strange juxtaposition to see you so frightened when you hadn’t hesitated in pulling the trigger and killing Mary not so long ago. 

Spencer slid down to the floor next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and you instinctively rested your head on him. He could hear your erratic breaths as you snuggled against him.

“Is he gone?” You whispered. 

“Not yet. I’d kill him with my bare hands if I didn’t still respect him so damn much.” Spencer sighed. 

“I would never forgive you if you killed Luke.” You raised your head and looked at him. 

“I know, sweetheart. And I wouldn’t do that to you. But jeez he’s a pain in the ass.” He used his free hand to cup your face delicately and his fingertips brushed lightly over your cheek. “He knows about Green.”

Your face paled, colour completely draining from your skin as you stared at him in horror.

“He…what?” You swallowed. 

“I didn’t get the full story but I guess they found his body. There is nothing that can tie us to him, Y/N. We were careful.” He tried to insist. 

Apart from the fact I used Luke’s credentials to track him, he decided against saying out loud.

“What happens now, Spence?” 

“We have to wait him out, he won’t stay out there forever. Once it’s dark we have to get rid of the body, clean up this house and we have to get the fuck out of this town before anyone realises she’s missing.” 

“I like it here.” You sighed sadly. 

He could have pointed out the fact that if it weren’t for you being so trigger happy then you wouldn’t have to leave. Not so long ago, he would have pointed that out. He would have gotten angry, blamed you for this, for Mary’s death, for Luke showing up here and for the BAU being on your asses. But something had changed in Spencer.

It was entirely plausible that his time in prison had caused a break in his psyche. The PTSD that he’d left untreated for so long had manifested itself in the form of a second persona, much more dark and evil than himself. When he found his anger rising, he switched into this alter ego without meaning to, maybe because Spencer had never been good at dealing with anger or emotions in general.

His alter allowed him to stand up for himself, to deal with that residual trauma and not bottle it all up like he’d been doing his entire life. You’d told him he was like Jekyll and Hyde and you were right. 

But he was learning that the love he felt for you, that swarmed through every inch of his body was what could tether him. If he focused only on that love and not on the rage, he could keep the monster at bay. Best case scenario, he may never need to kill again, but really he’d just settle for not ever having to make you scared of him again. 

He wanted to be the man you needed him to be. None of this hassle was worth it if he didn’t have you at his side at the end of the day. You were worth not giving over to his demons for, you were the only thing that mattered in his completely fucked up existence. 

He knew if it came down to it he would take the wrap for everything, Green, Mary and Jason Durand included. He would not let you go down for any of this. He was going to the ends of the Earth to protect you no matter what. He loved you so much, it was the least he could do. He just hoped it wouldn’t come to that. 

“I know sweetheart, but I’ll find you a new Stars Hollow, I promise.” He kissed your forehead. 

“Won’t they just come for us again? They’re going to keep coming for us, Spencer.” You chewed on your lip. 

“We have to be extra careful this time. We have to figure out a plan, we can’t use the Nissan anymore, not now the team knows about it. And our aliases are blown. Fuck, I don’t know what we’re going to do.” He confessed, letting go of your face so he could pinch the bridge or his nose. 

A smile tugged at your lips which caused Spencer to frown at you. 

“Good job I’m always prepared. I was a fugitive hunter, Spencer, we don’t leave anything to chance.” You sat back and reached into the pocket of your jeans, pulling out four similar rectangular cards which you handed over to him. “I think through every eventuality. The BAU have no idea what they’re dealing with.”

Spencer looked on in awe at the four driving licences in his hand. Two bore your photograph and two his. There was one matching set of Arizona issued licences for Samuel and Violet Truman and another set of Florida licences for Jack and Lily Waters. He glanced up at you with a curious expression on his face. 

“Samuel and Violet will buy themselves a little car to go on their American road trip. Meanwhile, Jack and Lily will be checking into motels along their way.” You smiled mischievously at him Spencer’s own smile grew. He had never loved you more than he did at that moment. 

“Good god woman, you’re an evil genius.” He pulled you close and kissed you hard. “If we make it out of this, remind me to marry you for real one day.” 

You giggled against his lips, both of you completely forgetting the imminent danger you could be in, ignoring the dead body by your side and Luke still skulking around outside. 

“We’ll be ok right, Spence? If we leave this place, we’ll find somewhere new and they won’t find us. We’re gonna be ok, aren’t we?” You needed to hear him say it.

“We're going to be just fine, sweetheart. We’re going to take care of this mess and we’re not looking back, only forward. They can’t curb us like they want to. They don’t get us. It’s you and me.” 

“You and me.” You repeated. “We’re uncontainable.” 

Hey,

we're takin' our crown, we're takin' it now, yeah.

Hey, we never look back,

We're uncontainable!

Woo!

(Are you ready? Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls for the main event.

Ha-ha, they aren't ready for this one! Yeah, here we are!)

Comin' out the gate I'm swinging,

And if you're in my way you'll feel it.

I hear you think you're tough,

So put your hands up,

We never back down from a fight.

So lemme ask ya,

Can they stop us?

(No!)

Break us?

(No!)

Get your game face on,

We're against the ropes!

Tap out?

(No!)

Throw in the towel?

(Hell no!)

'Cause when the bell goes off the gloves do too.

Hey, we're takin' our crown, we're takin' it now, yeah.

Hey, we never look back,

We're uncontainable!

Hey, we're takin' our crown, we're takin' it now, yeah.

Hey, we never look back,

We're uncontainable!

Throwin' off the chains,

I'm runnin'.

You think you're at the top,

You're fallin.

Swing and miss you're through,

You're out of the loop,

We're gonna bury you alive.

So lemme ask ya,

Can they stop us?

(No!)

Break us?

(No!)

Get your game face on,

We're against the ropes!

Tap out?

(No!)

Throw in the towel?

(Hell no!)

'Cause when the bell goes off the gloves do too.

Hey, we're takin' our crown we're takin' it now, yeah.

Hey, we never look back?

We're uncontainable!

Hey, we're takin' our crown, we're takin' it now, yeah.

Hey, we never look back?

We're uncontainable!

Keep swingin', keep dreamin',

But you'll never knock me out.

I've fallen too often,

But you'll never keep me down.

You see it, you feel it,

Your mama can't save you now.

One day they'll say,

The throne was made for me.

Yeah,

Uncontainable.

(Is he?)

We're uncontainable.

Hey, we're takin' our crown we're takin' it now, yeah.

Hey, we never look back,

We're uncontainable!

Hey, we're takin' our crown, we're takin' it now, yeah.

Hey, we never look back,

We're uncontainable!

Stop us?

(No!)

Break us?

(No!)

Get your game face on,

We're against the ropes!

Tap out?

(No!)

Throw in the towel?

(Hell no!)

Never look back,

We're uncontainable.

@bubblebuttwade @jay-2s-world @daddy-dotcom

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

my favorite scully moments from s4

in episode 1, she cracks encrypted messages, commenting that “you say ‘a twenty letter code’ to any scientist and they immediately think ‘protein amino acid sequence code’, which is what this turned out to be” <- and that is genius at work right there!!

skinner pulling her aside to ask “do you realize what you are promoting?” when she puts together there's a whole international smallpox conspiracy, and she cuts him off with a clear “i am a SCIENTIST, sir” <- that is right!! you tell him!!!

trying and failing to come up with a theory for how the photos in episode 4 became terrifying: “plus, the film is two years out of date” “oh” “the-the photographic chemistry could have changed” “uh-huh” “the-the dyes fade… they… alright, that’s your theory?” (had me absolutely giggling)

we also learn in episode 4 that she took german in college <3

in episode 6, she spends a great deal of time explaining the science behind sleeping pills and their controversial effects

(and i also loved her fury that such an advanced facility was being used for plastic surgery rather than life-saving care)

tearing into the culture of lawlessness while testifying in episode 9; talking about how she left the medical field to protect the innocent and punish the guilty- such an excellent moment, more of that good old fashioned scully righteous rage combined with inherent optimism- and her continuing to read her statement despite the council repeatedly cutting her off (as she should!)

choosing to be jailed rather than reveal where mulder was located, because she will do the right thing no matter the consequences (and is also just a really great friend)

((and bonus points for skinner checking up on her: “you holding up alright?” “i’ve got plenty to read”, she says, as she flips through medical texts))

“it is my natural inclination to believe they are acting in the best interest of the truth… but i am not inclined to follow my own judgment in this case” (casting aside her own optimism in the face of such corruption, understanding her personal bias and objectively putting it to the side… i admire her ability to do so)

((but still. after all she has been through, it is natural for her to believe that the government means well. it's incredible))

this exchange from episode 12: “where could he hide an adult body where it wouldn’t be found?” “i’ll show you” (cut to them sorting through the medical waste, mulder looking horrified as she casually says she needs his longer arms to sift through the body parts)

((but isn't it just great that she knew the answer to that question instantly?))

in episode 12, when she realizes that leonard betts trying to kill her means she has cancer, she responds to mulder saying she should be proud of stopping him with a quiet “i just want to go home”

(we get another "i'm going home" moment in episode 22, after their confrontation in the hallway about her fears, and the exhaustion contained in those few words could make me weep)

in episode 14, she writes letters saying goodbye to mulder, trying to convince him her inevitable death was not his fault: “and if the darkness should have swallowed me as you read this, you must never think there was the possibility of some secret intervention, something you might have done”, she wrote, knowing how he would blame himself, trying to spare his feelings of guilt even as she knew she had so little time left

later on, her nose starts bleeding while they're making an arrest; “quit staring at me, i’m fine!”, she says in the voice of someone who is deeply not fine, her helplessness inspiring a fury that thrashes about and digs its claws into everything inch of her

how she told mulder she was going to die, but insisted to her mother that she was fine- her mother is furious she didn’t tell her she was sick, shaking in fear, giving her a kiss and a hug, and saying that she is her only daughter now as they hold each other. while she can tell mulder the truth, she can't find the words to tell her mom how bad things really are

writing in her journal that she needs to draw strength from mulder, needs someone to lean on, even though she works so hard to be entirely self-sufficient; “i need to know you’re out there if i’m ever to see through this”

(contrast this with her earlier attempts to do absolutely every single thing by herself and bask in the character growth)

((but then she REJECTS what she wrote in the journal, saying that she isn’t giving up, and she has so much to prove to herself and her family- they have the conversation in the hallway that made me cry and cheer and yell and experience every emotion in between as she realizes that she is something worth fighting for))

in episode 18, she tries her best to save pendrell, telling him that “we still haven’t celebrated my birthday, pendrell; i’m not gonna let you off the hook like this” - it's the way she spent his last moments on earth trying to make him smile that gets me so emotional

later, she's having this very tense face off with skinner until he notices she was trying to hide her nosebleed; he grabs her hand and says “i have a responsibility for the safety of the agents under my supervision, agent scully. i’m not going to put another agent’s life in jeopardy just to keep her out in the field”, and she assures him she’s okay with tears in her eyes (the way he pierced through her best attempts at a stony exterior… i'm emotional)

they visit max fenig’s trailer again and she still HATED it lmao, she says “i remember being amazed at what some people will call a home”

(and then she disses the very bare hotel room they visit in the next episode, saying “i’m not sure if ‘living’ is the word i would use to describe this space” - give her all of the blankets and throw pillows, she wants a cozy house)

((this, combined with her saying "i want to go home" when she is experiencing moments of earth-shattering grief, made me realize how important to her it is that she have a nice, comfortable, safe space for herself))

smirking at her own stupid joke in episode 19; “what was he wearing, a long black robe and carrying a scythe?”

she knows the lowest temperature a human body has ever reached and survived (70 degrees) and also uses the phrase “nuclear magnetic resident spectra”, both of which made my heart skip a few beats

“okay, so this photo that was never taken, when was it never taken?” <- SEVERELY underappreciated line!!!!

in the opening of episode 20, she starts reciting facts about babies born with extra appendages in incredible detail, and i want to know so badly why she is educated on the subject. scully, please give us the story time video

she also mentions her plans to write an article on “diminished acetylcholine production in recidivist offenders” when she goes home from work. because that is how she spends her evenings, very casual. no big deal (said with great sarcasm)

her realization in episode 22 that the killer had been switching around the rings on each victim’s fingers, based on some blurry photos (it was a very good catch!)

talking to her therapist, admitting she struggles to talk about her fears, and that mulder’s passion has been a source of strength during her sickness

(we then, very briefly, see her praying in her nightgown in her apartment, before mulder knocks on the door to ask for her medical opinion. i find that shot so compelling, especially when you contrast it with her saying in the finale that she is not ready to return to the church- it must be too personal to talk about, god must be something she wants to experience on her own at this point in her life)

((and she grapples with the revelation that everyone else who had seen the spirits had been dying, knowing what it means for herself))

the way she shoots the evil nurse in the shoulder not to kill her, but to incapacitate her… scully, your aim is legendary

fun facts with scully, episode 23 edition: dostoyevsky had waxman-geschwind syndrome!

VERY FIRMLY telling mulder that he NEEDS to get to the hospital, and when he continually refuses, instead asking to go on a road trip, she agrees... ONLY on the condition that she drives!!!!

and when his terrible trauma ketamine trip culminates in him almost shooting her and himself, she manages to talk sense into him, before she rests her entire body on him, shielding him, not letting him move, weighing him down like an anchor back to reality

(her being the one taking charge in this episode even while she feels she is losing so much of her agency in her life makes me so emotional)

when mulder interrupts her family dinner in episode 24 to go on a quest for alien answers, she reminds him that this is his goal, and not hers. when he tries to convince her, she refuses to budge- it was frustrating to watch him put her in that situation, but amazing to watch her stand her ground

(and the fact that she wasn’t able to tell him her cancer was getting much worse is also so fascinating to me- why couldn't she bear to break it to him? would saying it aloud make it real?)

and of course, her tracking down the dude that shoved her down the stairs and nearly hitting him with her car (it was deeply satisfying)

[wolveria]

The Anomaly Archives - Reality #007

AU of The Raven's Hymn

Pairing: SCP-1233 x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Possible dubcon, vaginal fingering, moon shenanigans

AO3

A thump landed directly beyond you, so forceful it propelled you forward a few feet, and you landed ungracefully on your side.

Coughing and rolling onto your back, you stared up the suit—or rather, the entity which appeared to be a suit—towering over you like a figment out of the space age. The EMU-type spacesuit was even larger in person, and the SCP took a step toward you, forcing you to scramble backwards to not be stepped on.

“Greetings, old man!” he loudly proclaimed, his voice booming off the pine trees. Several birds were startled from sleep, taking flight into the star-filled sky. “I am Moon Champion, Champion of the Moon, defender of space justice and—”

He peered down at you, cocking his helmet slightly.

“Have you been damaged?”

You winced and shook your head. It was difficult to remember that this SCP had never intentionally harmed anyone before, even if his appearance often caused collateral damage of an impressive proportion.

“I’m fine,” you said, carefully getting to your feet and brushing off the seat of your jeans. “Sorry, you were talking about... defending space, or something?”

“Ah, yes!” He straightened his shoulders and pointed a finger upwards in a vague direction. The sky, probably, though it only looked like it was pointing into the treetops. “I seek aid for my people amongst the fleshy ground dwellers of your world, for I am told you have many resources comprised of confectioneries and custard. I assume you are the President of this planet, and you have come to greet me and pledge your unwavering fealty to the cause of slaying every Moon Monster until they are wiped from the face of the Moon!”

Christ, did the guy even breathe?... All right, considering he flew through space, probably not.

From what the Foundation had gathered, this was generally how SCP-1233’s exploits went. He rocketed to the ground and hit with meteoric impact, proceeded to the nearest small town, and attempted to recruit humans for his... moon wars.

And here you were, the unlucky level 2 assistant researcher who had found him first. You weren’t normally cleared for field work, but the SCP had landed not far from Site-20, and you’d been rushed into a van and ordered to change into civilian hiking gear. It certainly blended in better than your typical lab coat and slacks.

You had to navigate this carefully. SCP-1233’s last visit to Earth on October 5th, 2017, had ended in disaster. Landing near Hereford, England, the entity had stumbled onto the one unfortunate person who had sarcastically agreed to aid him to fight moon monsters. The entity had grabbed the man and launched into the atmosphere at a lethal velocity.

The body was never recovered.

“Uh.” You fidgeted with the hem of your plaid button-up. “I am the President, yes.”

Now you were locked in. You couldn’t call for backup, because 1233 wouldn’t want to talk to anyone else unless he was sure you wouldn’t help him. And there was no guarantee you could turn his attention onto another agent without an innocent bystander getting involved. The Foundation would suppress media and official channels to keep them away from the landing site, but there was no guarantee a few curious hikers or townsfolk wouldn’t slip through.

The helmet once again went at a tilt. An uncomfortable length of silence followed.

“No. You’re not.”

Shit. SCP-1233 had never called out anyone for lying to him before. He’d always believed everyone he met with a naiveté bordering on gullible. Shit, shit.

He took a step, then another, and you mirrored his movements until you were backed up into a tree, the wide trunk barring a quick escape.

It really was hard to tell how large those EMU suits were until one was looming over you from inches away.

This is it. I’m going to be 1233’s first murder victim, and they’re going to find what’s left of my corpse sprayed all over the trees—

The suit stepped back, put his hands on his hips, and laughed.

You stared.

“Apologies, I did not recognize you at first!” He lowered his hands and then proceeded to rest one on his stomach, as if amused by the spectacle. “Please, you must forgive me. I have never met one of your kind before, though I have heard tales of the prowess of the Earth Guardians.”

You swallowed. A point of tension started between your brows that was certain to turn into a headache soon.

“You mean... the Foundation?”

All he had was a smooth helmet shield, but somehow, he managed to give the impression of frowning.

“Nonsense. You are an Earth Guardian, Guardian of the Earth! Much as I protect my people, you protect yours—Oh!” He leaned closer, as if sharing a secret. “Is this ‘Foundation��� of yours a code name? A sharp little moniker? That’s quite clever. You can never be too careful; I am sure you have no shortage of enemies on your world.”

“Uh-huh...”

He straightened upright, and then did something even more alarming. He dropped to one knee and held out his hand in a supplicating gesture.

“Allow me the honor of bestowing a kiss to your personage, Earth Guardian.”

“My... personage?”

A kiss?

“Yes, yes, your—” He indicated with his hand, and then you realized, no, he was referring to his hand by flopping it around.

You eyed his reflective visor, recalling tales of all the various foods and drinks that had been smashed into the round surface.

“All right,” you said with strained acceptance, “be gentle.”

Extending your hand, you held the other to your chest, preparing for him to propel your hand at his face with a speed that would break every bone.

But instead, he said, “Of course,” and took your fingers with surprising gentleness. He pressed the back of your hand against the smooth glass, the surface pleasantly warm. Alive.

“Oh.”

The word left him with a hint of surprise, or perhaps awe. You never found out which.

He was on his feet, and then you were against the tree, the bulk of his suit dwarfing you and blocking all chance of escape.

Your heart leapt in your chest, and you barely remained on your feet, terror seizing you in its grip as you struggled to think. This wasn’t right. Something was wrong with the SCP; he was acting outside normal parameters—

“I see,” he said softly, his large, gloved hand stroking your hair. “They did not prepare me for this.”

“Wh-what?”

His other gloved hand explored your side, resting on your hip and covering most of it.

“To encounter one such as you.”

Confusion eclipsed some of your fear. What was he talking about? 1233 was making even less sense than what the reports had stated. Aside from the man in Hereford, you couldn’t recall if he’d touched anyone, and as soon as he had, his demeanor had immediately pivoted—

Your shirt was lifted, exposing your bare stomach and chest to the chilly night air.

“Hey! What the fuck—”

A gloved hand went over your mouth, stifling your indignation. His other explored up your stomach, padded fingers tracing up your sensitive skin, and he palmed your breasts through your bra. The motions were curious rather than cruel, but you still struggled against his hold. He was impossible to move and didn’t seem to notice your efforts.

“Shhh,” he gently hushed you. The pads of his gloved fingers were soft, comfortable and warm, and with a single stroke of them your nipples tightened.

It shouldn’t have been possible. 1233 hadn’t shown any kind of interest in humans beyond recruitment, and the occasional attempt to buy puppies, but this was bizarre. You might have been more afraid if you weren’t so disoriented. Without meaning to, you relaxed in his grip, your skin growing hot as he continued to touch you, almost massage you.

“There.” The voice from the helmet intercom was soothing, and there was something else underneath. Interest. “I would never harm you.”

The entity let go of your breast, gave a thoughtful hum, and reached for your jeans. He popped open the top button and slid down the zipper before you could try to bat him away. It didn’t do any good. It was like trying to slap away a steel girder, and your muffled shouts under his hand grew more urgent.

“Yes, yes, I know, I’m eager too.”

No, you idiot! you tried to shout, but it came out as more frantic noises.

“But I must take my time, you are too delicate. Too soft and… and easily torn to pieces. I won’t do that, no, not again.”

1233 pulled the borrowed jeans down your thighs, taking the underwear along with it. You still weren’t as afraid as you should be, some part of you understood that the anomaly wasn’t trying to hurt or scare you, but frustration and embarrassment still pricked at the corners of your eyes. They burned hotter when the entity squeezed his gloved fingers between your clenched thighs, and you groaned when he pressed against your clit.

You tried to push his arm away, but it was as successful as the other times. He didn’t seem to notice as he explored the space between your legs, alternating between prodding against your entrance and teasing your clit.

It was… nice, really nice, and he was so gentle. It was still bizarre and strange and not at all sanitary—who knew what kind of anomalous pathogens you were being exposed to—but… you couldn’t remember anyone touching you like this before.

Closing your eyes, you relaxed despite the warning bells still ringing loudly in your skull. Your thighs loosened around his hand and your lips parted, jaw going slack. Pressure was slowly building in your gut, and you started to care less and less that you were exposed in the middle of the forest.

The anomaly gave another hum, this one with a tinge of heat as he sensed the change in your rigid stance. One finger pushed into your mouth, the strange soft digit warm against your tongue. You closed your lips around him and sucked without thinking, and he groaned, the intercom crackling.

His other finger explored your slick cunt, but his impatience was clear as he pushed against your entrance. The glove made the finger thicker, or maybe the glove was his finger, but you were slick enough now that he pushed inside without pain. When he tried to push in two, you tensed and whined. It was supposed to be in protest, but it came out as a pitiful plea.

SCP-1233 removed his fingers from your mouth and between your legs. The shock of emptiness left you out of breath and unable to speak. You felt like a mess and probably looked like it too, drool on your chin and slick on your thighs.

You made some kind of small, disjointed nose when 1233 bent down and grabbed one of your feet, and then the other, pulling off your boots with lackluster coordination, but at least he didn’t rip anything. He tugged off your jeans next, and while he was bent over, picked you up and braced you over one shoulder.

It wasn’t the most comfortable thing, and you craned your neck to avoid headbutting the life support system on his back.

“What... are you doing?” you wheezed, the cusp of his shoulder pad digging into your stomach.

“Just a moment, starlight.”

The pet name caught you by surprise, and then gravity shifted beneath you as 1233 pulled you down, holding you by the ass in front of his torso. You yelped and held on as he tipped backwards. You thought you were both going to fall, but he simply laid down on a patch of pine needles as if landing right on his pack didn’t hurt.

Your landing was much softer, and you braced your hands against the panel on his chest so you wouldn’t smack into it. You faintly remembered from your rushed briefing that it was called a Display and Control Module, though it was doubtful it actually was one.

“Is this better?” Some of his jovial tone returned, though that strange, intense curiosity was still there.

“No!” you squeaked, some of your dignity and common sense returning. “None of this makes sense! None of it is—”

1233 slipped his fingers under your hips and pressed his index lengthwise against your clit. And then he grabbed you by the hip with his other hand and moved your body, forcing you to grind against his hand.

Your reservations fled without even an embarrassed goodbye. All you could focus on was the soft heat radiating from his gloves, and within seconds you were moving your hips on your own, chasing your pleasure with shaky movements and a burning face.

You really, really hoped none of your coworkers found you. Amnestics would be the best you could hope for if you were caught like this, literally rubbing off on an SCP you were supposed to temporarily contain.

You had, in a way. Or more accurately, he had contained you.

“Mmm, you are good,” he crooned. “Very good. My starlight.”

You flushed at the name and the praise, throbbing at the attention. Perhaps he sensed it, because he lifted your hips up just far enough to push one finger inside you. It felt even better from this position, and when he tried to work a second in you, you didn’t balk.

You braced your hands against the control module and lifted yourself up, and then slid down on both fingers. The stretch was almost unbearable, but you took it eagerly, clenching around him as if you could take more.

The noise he made was something almost like a purr.

“Perhaps next time, you can take more of me.”

You whined at the promise of it.

The entity curled his fingers with one hand and guided your movements with the other, helping you ride him at a growing pace. His digits were so wide they stretched and pressed against places you normally couldn’t reach, and maybe it had been a long time for you, but it felt better than any other time you could remember.

1233 made another dark noise of satisfaction as he rubbed his thumb against your clit. You spasmed as heat flashed up your spine, and you continued to grind against him until the pressure in your gut snapped.

You cried out, bracing against his chest as you rode out your orgasm, your walls clamping around his thick digits.

1233 gave a sound that was definitely not human, his fingers digging into your hip almost hard enough to ache. And then he let you go, petting up your side as he gently pulled out of you.

Losing the strength in your arms, you laid down on his chest, shifting a little so the module wasn’t as uncomfortable.

“Wonderful,” he praised, stroking your back, apparently not minding the sweat that beaded it. “You are wonderful.”

You hid your face in the stiff white material of his suit. He sounded a little bit like his normal gregarious self, though there was a warmth there that was new.

“I’m not sure what happened, but... thank you.”

“Hmm. Yes, I suppose your kind do it differently.”

“What?” You closed your eyes, actually finding the spacesuit comfortable from this position. “Sex?”

He gave a boisterous laugh.

“No! Don’t be silly.”

You opened your eyes and frowned.

“What—”

“Come, it’s time we be off.”

Before you could tell him to wait a damn minute, he lifted you up in one smooth motion and put you on the ground. You tried to cover your nakedness with the hem of your shirt, your socks not adding much protection to your feet.

“Uh, to where? I don’t think—we really shouldn’t be leaving—”

“Of course, we have to go! My people need us.”

He picked up one of your shoes, examined it, and then tossed it over his shoulder. You made a defeated noise as it was lost in the darkness. Thankfully, when he located your jeans and underwear, he handed them to you. The gesture was almost sweet, but it wasn’t much comfort to the growing alarm in your head.

You struggled for excuses as you tugged on your rumpled clothes.

“But I won’t survive in space. I... don’t have a suit.”

He gave a chuckle, as if your concerns about dying in a vacuum or being burnt up in the atmosphere were overblown.

“You let me worry about that.”

He stood over you once you were dressed, placing a warm hand on the back of your neck. The weight did a funny thing to you, made you feel as if your legs would buckle at any moment.

“Do not fret, I will return you to your home once the beasts have been vanquished. After all, I would not take you away from your own obligations, Moon Wife.”

“I—wait, I’m sorry, what—”

“The faster we leave, the faster we will return!”

1233 scooped you up, this time holding you in his arms rather than over his shoulder. It was warm and comfortable, but when the forest began to light up around you as a rumbling noise came from his back, you realized what it meant.

“SCP-1233, don’t! You can’t!”

His tone was warm, fond even.

“What a sweet nickname you’ve picked for me. Do not worry, I told you I wouldn’t make the same mistake! Not after that poor, poor fellow that disintegrated in my hands. Rest easy, my brave little moon sailor.”

The rockets on his pack ignited, burning the pine needles beneath his feet to cinder, and you both flew upwards at a rate that made your stomach clench. You closed your eyes tight, waiting to have every bone in your body broken as your insides turned to mush as he approached escape velocity.

But all that happened was the wind tousled your hair and it grew a bit colder. Even the roar of the… rockets?... sounded somewhat muffled.

“You can open your eyes, starlight. I guarantee this is a view you will not want to miss.”

When you dared to look, your eyes went wide, taking in the receding earth below you. But more importantly, the rounded dome above you, spattered with stars and becoming clearer by the second as you left the lower atmosphere’s light pollution.

Higher and higher you went, the land becoming more akin to a map rather than something that felt real, and in the distance, you could see mountains and valleys and the edge of the ocean bathed in moonlight.

Sparks flickered around you and then ignited into a solid flame, but it didn’t touch you or the SCP, giving you a small protective sphere that was covered in fire.

“I regret the... error on my part regarding the last meatfellow. I had not anticipated how fragile your bulbous organs would be.”

The regret in his voice was real. Perhaps it was that, or maybe it was the stunning view that greeted you once you moved past the last barrier of atmosphere. The Earth curved below your feet like the most beautiful marble, painted and textured with fluffy white clouds and blue waters on one half. The other held glittering jewels in the dark, a testament that mankind did not stop dreaming with the absence of the sun.

Whatever it was, your heart squeezed, and you braced your forehead against the curve of his visor. Each breath you took fogged a small portion of the glass. That little detail cemented in your mind that this was real, and not just a fever dream that was the result of your insane job.

1233 hummed happily and cradled you closer.

“If you find this view delightful, you shall be very pleased to see my home. The Moon Kingdom is not what it once was, but once the beasts are banished, I am sure we can return it to its former splendor.”

You looked up toward your destination, somehow not surprised to see the moon closer. It normally took the SCP nine hours to reach it after visiting Earth, but perhaps he was accelerating to get you there faster. It was hard to deny you were curious where he came from. You would be the first at the Foundation to find out.

You wondered what would happen when your coworkers found your boots, if there would be urban legends of what happened to their owner. With how slowly 1233 had left the atmosphere, it was very likely ARGOS caught your departure. You could only imagine what they would say, and none of it would be as strange as the truth.

Drifting in and out of sleep, it was hard to stay awake in your exhaustion and how comfortable 1233’s arms were. He was quiet, perhaps understanding that “meatfellows” had limited stamina, and you hoped he remembered that humans had to eat and drink occasionally.

“Are we really married?”

Your question drew him out of his silence. He chuckled.

“Of course. What did you think we were doing?”

Honestly, you still weren’t sure.

Not long after, 1233 stirred you from your slumber. The moon was large and bright before you, and the anomaly orbited the satellite, passing into the dark zone. You waited to see where this mysterious kingdom was located, but there was nothing aside from empty craters and dark valleys.

“Hold on to me, starlight.”

Deciding to take his advice, you looped your arms around the circumference of his helmet. He turned toward the dark side of the moon, pitch black without the reflection of the sun, and he rocketed towards it.

You screamed as the black void raced toward you, and then it broke apart into rings of jagged light. You passed through several layers of it, like some kind of hole or portal, and you emerged on the other side. A planet lay before you, seeming to be comprised of actual gems and jewels. It glittered crystalline white with oceans of pink and silver, the ice caps a solid gold.

The inky blackness of space was replaced by pastel swirls and distant glittering stars.

“Oh,” you breathed. “It’s beautiful.”

“Though I am not one of the Moon People, it is my home, and... yours as well, if you wish it.”

You didn’t respond as you leaned your head against his shoulder, but you did smile, and the Moon Champion carried you down to the world that glittered like diamonds.

[scarletteye]

More crazy/obsessed/yandere Childe

Everybody seemed to enjoy the little post I made where I compared crazy Childe and crazy Scara. So here is another part from my fic that I wanted to use in the original post. He's crazy here, but I figured he was crazier in the "Don't you dare run" moment. Sheesh.

Once again, I just like using his actual name. Ajax mmm

From:

Ornament of Heart, Chapter 16

Evening fell over Snezhnaya fairly quickly. You patiently waited until you saw his carriage arrive on the winding path, and then you rushed to the hallway, choosing to wait for him there along with the maids. You hadn’t done something like that ever since you returned from Fontaine, and as soon as Childe laid his eyes on you, his lips opened in surprise.

He didn’t expect to be greeted by you, but his shock soon morphed into a warm smile. He ignored the maids, choosing to walk over to your side first. “Mila, good evening,” he beamed. “How was your day?”

Your eyes narrowed at him; your jaw tightened as you observed the innocent glint in his eyes. He seemed to be in a good mood after work, so at least you didn’t have to feel bad about interrogating him. If he came home depressed, you would have never dared to question him. You resented him, but you didn’t want him to suffer. Avoiding his panic attacks had long become your problem.

“Weird, actually” you answered.

“Hm? What happened?”

“I wanted to go on a walk. But to my surprise, all the doors of the mansion were locked, and the maids wouldn’t let me out. Know anything about that?”

He raised one of his brows, tilting his head playfully as he gaged your serious expression. Your heart sank as Ajax’s lips twisted into a smirk. “A walk? In this snow?” he chuckled.

“I’m being serious,” you retaliated. “Why am I being locked indoors?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Ajax said. His tone was cheerful, borderline forced, as his eyes squished closed. This overly positive face of his was always the most difficult to argue with, and you were sure he knew that. “We just returned from a mission where we angered a few noblemen. It’s safer to keep the doors locked.”

“Isn’t the mansion guarded?”

“Of course,” he answered simply. “But I don’t want you to run off on your own.”

Your mouth opened in shock; all of your anger thawed as you gawked at Ajax and his overly cheerful façade. He cupped your face, handling you gently despite his hold on you seeming unbreakable. “I’d rather avoid that. Mila.”

“You- what are you saying?” you breathed out. “You’re actually locking me indoors? On purpose? What? Is this some kind of punishment-” you stopped talking as Ajax’s hold on your chin turned harsher. He practically pinched it, digging his fingers into your cheeks. Your heart staggered, reaching your throat in a fleet of panic.

“Mila. Am I wrong to believe that you don’t want to be around me right now?” he questioned. “Last time we were in such a predicament, you ran off on your own in Fontaine. If you can do that in a foreign, unfamiliar country, then I don’t see why my idea sounds far-fetched.”

He finally opened his eyes. Their deep blue hue struck you. Despite his tone being overly sweet, his eyes were completely dead. Lacking any empathy or cheerfulness that oozed from his voice. “You can’t go outside,” he repeated sweetly, pinching your chin with more vigor and leaning his face closer. As if he were cooing at a dog. Your breath hitched.

You jerked your face out of his hold, feeling pain linger on your skin. You took a step back. The maids were mute as they watched your exchange, and his Fatui servants pretended as if they weren’t listening, choosing to lower their heads instead.

Silence nested inside the hallway, and Ajax slowly lowered his hands to his sides. He seemed completely unapologetic as he delivered the news, and you found yourself frozen in his mercy. “If you think this will somehow make me warmer towards you-”

Ajax tilted his head at you, shutting you up as his eyes turned narrower. You were not given space to argue. This wasn’t the first time he used his Harbinger authority over you. He used this same type of tone on you right after proposing, when he practically told you that you didn’t have a choice. But he had never done something like this within the walls of your home.

“This is just until I asses that the air is clear,” he calmed you. “Give it one or two weeks until the dust from Fontaine settles, and if you give me good reasons to believe that you won’t walk out without warning, we can negotiate.”

Your jaw dropped. He didn’t even say that the doors were guaranteed to unlock. He said you will negotiate, meaning nothing was certain.

Cold sweat broke out on your nape, and your eyes turned big with horror. This was unexpected. Ajax never gave you reasons to believe that he would lock you indoors. He never acted so harsh with you. What changed? Did he know that you knew his true motives? Was he sick of your coldness?

“Ajax…” you blurted out. “You can’t be serious. Why are you doing this? Because I wandered outside on my own in Fontaine? That’s… that’s completely insane. Do you hear yourself?”

“The doors have been locked for a whole week, mila. Ever since we returned,” he said. “I fail to see why they would pose an issue to you now. Where were you even hoping to go in this blizzard?”

“What the hell? Can’t I take a walk in the garden? Don’t I deserve fresh air?”

“If you want fresh air, comrade…” he smiled; his lips stretched wide and he leaned down to your level, almost taunting you with his sickeningly sweet voice. “Step onto the balcony or sit by an open window.”

Your eyes turned wider, fully grasping Ajax’s words. All this time you spend ignoring him and treating him coldly, you never stopped to think how he might reciprocate. You thought you wouldn’t care if he got angry at you, but you didn’t expect his anger to turn into this.

Now you were more than aware that he controlled everything and everybody in this house. He had plenty of ways of making you regret your pettiness.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Isn't he so dreamy? lmaooo he really just said "You want air? Then open the window tf?"

Once again, you can find my fic on ao3!

I'll post my second fave crazy Scaramouche moment next. Or maybe more Childe content if you guys want. Lemme know!

[somefanchick]

We have met, but I'm not who I was...

This is a platonic fic between Astarion and the Traveler (Tav) that I’m going to use on one of my next runs. Tav is of noble background and met Astarion decades ago at a party. I am totally down to give more info on this character if asked, but that’s all that you really need to know prior to reading this fic. (Short and sweet) (Minor spoilers for act 1)

He recognized me. That wasn’t something I was used to, and something I wished hadn’t been true. I could see that when I found him in the woods after the crash, he reacted to my presence for a split second. I could see recognition in his eyes, right before he tried to distract and attack me. Spoiler, it didn’t really work.

Once I remembered him, I didn’t initially know how to approach the situation so I did what I did best. I played dumb. I acted as if I believed him and didn’t recognize the vampire before me. He believed my ignorance, as most tend to, and I was able to recruit him to my camp.

A few days later, I had a camp of six other individuals and was about to invade a goblin camp full of cultists. I had my favorites of course; A strong barbarian tiefling with a heart of figurative gold and literal infernal iron, a beautifully mysterious cleric who I could tell was hiding things from both me and herself, and of course the vampire spawn. He was useful for stealth and I got a small thrill out of fooling him. Though that thrill had faded quickly. 

Now that night had fallen and the others had fallen asleep, I got up to visit Astarion.

 “Hello Tav,” His teeth glistened in the moonlight, the bottom of his fangs hiding just behind his bottom lip, “Has anyone ever told you that you look astonishing in the starlight? And just when I thought you couldn’t get more ravishing.”

“Aw Astarion!” I put on my best smile, placing my hands on my cheeks, “That’s so sweet of you to say. Now I hate to be a bother, but could you do me a favor?”

I noticed a slight fear in his eyes, but his smile didn’t break, “Of course dear. What is it?”

I put on my best doe eyes, “Could you cut the bullshit?”

That knocked off his metaphorical mask, “Excuse me?”

“Look,” my eyes sharpened and I dropped my own mask for the first time in years, “I know you know we met at one of Casador’s little parties. He introduced you as his assistant, which is true to an extent I suppose, and then he secretly instructed you to lure me in so he could feast on noble blood,” I put my finger on my lip, slowly gliding back into my innocent and ignorant persona, “I was the best target. The youngest of 13. Not exceptionally beautiful like many of my sisters, not as accomplished as my brothers, not the topic of much controversy like my sibling. Completely overshadowed. Wouldn’t even get an article in the Baldur's Mouth Gazette, just a few condolences to my parents behind closed doors. The only caveat was that it was me,” a smirk graced my lips, “Someone who could see through people like you and Casador and had enough charisma and intelligence to escape without even letting you know that I was on to you. But now I have the power to defend myself properly, so I’m willing to call you out.”

“I-”

I placed my hands in the center of my chest, “I just wanted to let you know that I’m not as gullible as you think. Don’t fuck with me. Follow my lead and not only will I cure everyone of this illithid shit, but I will help you kill that bastard. Listen to my command, and you will be free of him forever. Don’t betray me and you may become more powerful than you ever could imagine. I will even let you feed on me if you ask politely and only take what is necessary. As long as you use that power to help my cause. I might seem like an imbecile, but I’m a reasonable person. I make deals with gods and nobles. I’m great at compromise.”

I could see tension leave Astarion’s shoulders, “And here I thought we wouldn’t get along. You’re more cunning than I thought.”

“Normally I wouldn’t be this blunt about knowing so much of your personal business,” I smiled innocently, “But I needed you to know I wasn’t the gulabile little noble you believed me to be back then, or the harmless angel I was. That way our professional relationship could be built on a little respect.”

“Maybe more than just a ‘professional’ relationship,” Astarion smirked, “I am honest in my flattery you know.”

I let out a giggle, “We both know you’re not,” I turned away, “Goodnight ‘Little star’.”

I could feel his gaze on me. It was cold and harsh. I hadn’t earned his trust, but I had told him that we would play nice. Part of me was looking forward to him asking to sink in his fangs, if only to make him owe me.

[celestialiron]

I'm Doing It

After considering for so long now, I'm saying fuck it & posting up a writing I've been working on! As I am also horrible with titles, I'm still in the process of creating one for my story too! I'm super excited & nervous for you all to read my little writing!

But without further adieu, I present to you my prologue for one of my main stories!

Prologue

There was a mixture of fire and mystic energies surrounding the two of them. Through barely eyes, she stood up tall, with the pendant in hand as it slid onto her katana, she felt the mystic energy of the master with her, ready to take this man down. The man that single-handedly ruined most of her life, her friends and families lives, innocent people who were never supposed to be a part of this war. Yes, everything will be at peace again once he is taken down. 

As the flames of the mystic energy surround them both, he looks up from the ground he was kneeling from, staring into the eyes of both the man he had tried to kill to win, his form a flame of fire standing behind this child who he had tried, on multiple occasions, controlling her, taking away her abilities, strength, poisoning her, killing the people she cared about. He couldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t accept it. This wasn’t happening to him. It was a nightmare, surely one he would wake up from soon enough, right? But the katana/vines that struck him in the shoulder, not realizing she got closer along with the master in tow of her, said otherwise. Laying on the concrete floor, looking around where the empyrean sits close by, he looks up to where they stood. Coldly, she spoke, “this is for my family, friends, the innocence you have hurt, and me. I hope you rot wherever they take you.” As if to make this any worse, the master, almost giddily (at least as close to being giddy as this man can be, a yokai, no less) spoke, “you have lost. Accept as much dignity as you can, for there is no way out for you. Not. Anymore.” He wanted to scream. Make any noise, tell them that they were wrong, but nothing. Not a goddamn thing made sense,  as sirens were heard from afar, (or maybe something else, he wasn’t too sure) all he could think was how he fucking lost.

Noticing the policemen and paramedics surrounding him, he let the reality sink in that he was going away for a long time. As he had been placed with the paramedics to the hospital with police escorts, the police and paramedics turned around to help with the female and that master of her’s wounds as well as give their regards and thanks to the woman who helped give the signal to them and brought down the man they had been searching for years for to justice. But they didn’t see her, not even a trace of footsteps or blood trail to wherever she could’ve gone to. Disappearing almost entirely, but they had the strangest feeling that there was outside help she had that might’ve taken her back to wherever she came from. With a nod, they all went back to their respective vehicles, hoping that someday soon, her and that “master” of theirs are willing to come out and speak on behalf of what the hell just happened.

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

Next: Chapter 1

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter 35: Future…. An overdue confession and a striptease fail.

Shingen x OC; Kenshin x MC (Mai)

Previous Chapter: Here

Logline - Disguised as a boy, Katsuko finds herself working for Shingen, but her dangerous masquerade becomes difficult to sustain when she falls for the man with a fatal secret.

How does a known liar tell the truth about something that sounds like an outrageous lie? 

“So… the shipwreck… I um, may have… skirted around the truth a bit, but I had a good reason. I said we ended up here after a storm – and that is true, but most people assume that meant we were shipwrecked.” I gave Shingen the same bland, innocent look I had given Kenshin earlier. “Is it actually a lie if I don’t bother to correct that assumption?”

As I had hoped, he laughed. “What am I going to do with you?” He rolled onto his back and looked at the ceiling as if there was an answer there. I remembered the night in the training room when he’d given me lessons in combat – we’d ended up lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling, and I’d been so tempted to reach out and take his hand – well… now I could take his hand. So, I did. He gave my fingers a light squeeze. “Alright, Devil. What did bring you here?”

“It was a storm, but it didn’t drag us across the sea, but through time. It pulled us over four hundred years into the past.” He didn’t respond to that, either verbally, or even physically, so I hurried on. “The short version is that I am from the future.”

“You’re from the future.” He said it like he was testing out how the words tasted on his tongue. “Four hundred years from now?”

“Closer to four hundred and fifty, to be completely accurate. Although I guess it doesn’t matter whether it is one hundred years or one thousand, right?” I turned to look at him, to see how he was taking the news – he simply looked thoughtful. The way he looked when he received a report of new information from one of his spies and was determining how it fit in with what he already knew.

“It sounds like a wild, fanciful tale.” He squeezed my hand again. “Devil… you and the truth are not-”

“I know. We’re barely acquainted. If I passed the truth on a road, we’d wave to each other, then the truth would scurry away and wipe its brow over a narrow escape. But, in this ca-” I stopped when he put his fingers on my lips.

“As it happens, I’m inclined to believe you. You’re a good liar because your lies are plausible. Whereas this… travelling through time… sounds…” I could tell he was struggling not to use the word ‘insane.’

“I know, even to me, it sounds crazy. Because really… time travel?” I wished I had some future things to show him. Not just to prove my story, but because I imagined he’d get a kick out of them. I bet he would have taken my phone apart to see how it worked. “In the future, something like this would still be considered science fiction.”

“Science… fiction?” I supposed it was easier for him to latch onto the last words I’d said. “Myths about science?”

He seemed to have accepted the premise well enough. “Yeah, it’s a form of literature – and tv and film too, but you wouldn’t know what those are, so let’s stick with literature for now – that speculates about the science and technology, oh and even politics of the future. Like air travel and landing one the moon.”

We… were straying a little from the topic, but his eyes lit up with interest at the possibility of travelling to the moon. “Air travel and landing on the moon then are examples of science fiction where you come from?”

“Er, actually not anymore. We already have air travel and the Americans – that’s a new country across the ocean –will land on the moon, oh, in less than four hundred years from now. But… we don’t have time travel. At least. We didn’t. Until… it happened to me. One minute my brother and I were taking a walk around the Togakushi Shrine,” which, thankfully, pre-existed the Sengoku time so I wouldn’t have to take another tangent to explain that one, “and it was summer. We got caught in a thunderstorm, and a lot of fog and mist, and then we were at this era’s Togakushi, and it was winter, and before we could figure out what was going on, we were attacked by bandits – and the rest of it, you know.”

He shook his head. “I know you’re brave, but even so, that must have been terrifying.”

I started to protest… but he was right. I’d been terrified. Terrified that it was real. Terrified that it wasn’t real and I was simply crazy. “Yeah… I alternated between terror and thinking it had to be a dream, and that any moment, I’d wake up back in my own bed.”

“I will have hundreds of questions about the future and time travel … not the least of which is whether we ever defeated Nobunaga,” Shingen told me. “But I need to do this first.” He pulled me close, so that I was half on his chest, and held me. We lay there in the quiet, the only movement was Shingen combing his fingers through my hair. “You don’t need to be scared any longer. You can take a moment to rest from being brave.”

I closed my eyes and let the terrified teenager I had been back then accept his comfort for a little while. It was nice to let someone else take that on. “As for the mechanics, I don’t know how it works. If you want a lesson on the science of it all, you’ll have to ask Sasuke.”

His fingers stilled. “You told Sasuke about this before you told me?” There was a note of jealousy in his voice. Odd, I wouldn’t have thought he was the jealous type.

“Only after I figured out that Sasuke is also from the future – as is Mai.” I once again paused to let Shingen digest that, but apparently having accepted the idea of a single time traveler, it was less of a leap to accept three. “Anyway, he’s the one who understands how these wormholes – time doors? – work and when they’re due to appear.”

“That suggests that you have the means to return to your home.” It was his turn to speak in bland, neutral tones, leaving me no hint as to how he felt about that.

“I suppose. I only learned about that possibility a few weeks ago. It doesn’t make a difference though. I’m not going to go home and leave my brother still stuck here somewhere.” Unsaid was that there was now also this, whatever - this affair? relationship? - was with Shingen. My desire not to leave him, especially not now when I didn’t know how much longer … well, I didn’t want to leave. “Sasuke’s decided to return though – at least temporarily. I guess he’s leaving in a couple weeks, and…”

Something occurred to me – would it be possible for Sasuke to bring back medicine to treat Shingen? Except… without a diagnosis – how would he know what medicine to bring back? And what doctor would prescribe medicine without seeing the patient? No, too many variables. But… if four people could get flung back in time, shouldn’t it work the other way too? Could Shingen go through the wormhole to the future for treatment? Was what he had curable in modern Japan? I imagined myself presenting this possibility to Shingen, telling him that maybe there was a way to cure him, that he would see next Spring and beyond … but… no, not yet. I was getting too ahead of myself. I needed to talk with Sasuke to find out if it was even possible.

“What are you puzzling out now, Devil?” He tapped my nose with his index finger. “I know that look. It generally means I’m about to acquire more grey hair.”

“Sorry. I had an idea I want to investigate.” No use giving him hope until I floated this past Sasuke. I gave Shingen my full attention. “You were saying?”

“I know I can’t stop you, but I hope you won’t do anything dangerous when I’m not around to protect you.” He gave me a stern look as he brushed his thumb over my swollen eye.

“It’s nothing dangerous. We just talked about this - I can take care of myself.” Were we really going to have this argument again?

“And yet less than two weeks ago, you fell into a river.” I saw the forehead flick coming before it connected and moved to block his hand.

“Once again, I did not fall.” The branch fell. I simply happened to be on it when it broke. And because I really did not want to go over this ground yet again, I asked, “Anyway, what were you about to say before?”

“Is Mai was planning to leave with Sasuke?” His voice was rougher now – he likely was tiring for the day. I ought to leave him to rest soon.

“There’s no way she would leave Kenshin, even for modern conveniences like showers and phones. Nor could I imagine that he would let her go.” I had given up trying to figure out his and Mai’s relationship. It still seemed codependent to me, but clearly it gave both something they were otherwise missing. And Kenshin was growing on me. A little. Besides, I was in no position to judge at this point.

“They clearly feel they have something worth fighting for in each other,” he said, then yawned. “I under-“ he yawned again.

“And there’s my cue to say goodnight, and let you sleep.” How long had he been awake before I’d arrived? The shogi game with Kenshin looked like it had been going on for a while. While technically it was still summer, the days were getting shorter, and it was turning dark outside.

“Good night,” he said, then rolled us both over, turning me into the little spoon. “You did say you’ll stay.”

I hadn’t said that, and he knew it. However, right at that moment, I felt warm and … I searched through my emotions to find the right word… cherished. I decided to stay until he fell asleep – it wasn’t worth arguing otherwise. He’d probably use some sneaky rhetorical tactic on me. Easier to slip away once he was out for the night. “Feel free to pitch me onto the floor if I bother you,” I said, as if confirming that I intended to stay. I reached for the lantern and shuttered it.

“I would never do that, Devil.” His lips brushed the back of my neck, and then once again, I heard him say, “Good night.”

As he couldn’t see my face anyway, I kept my eyes open as the room got darker and darker, while I listened for his breathing to deepen. Yikes, I really could fall asleep here too. I bit my tongue to keep myself awake. Eventually, when his rhythmic breathing indicated he was sleeping, I began to inch my way out from under his arm, and I found myself yanked back to him. “Eep.”

“Nice try.” It sounded like he was holding back laughter.

Huh. He faked me out. I sighed and shifted around trying to get comfortable – which only resulted in my getting tangled up in my clothing. “Honestly, you’re probably going to regret this.”

“If you keep wiggling around like that, what I’m going to regret is not being able to do something about it,” he said. Uh. Yeah. I could feel his regret hard against my tailbone.

Now I was tangled up in my clothes, and it was getting a bit warm in here. “At least let me get my night clothes. I’m all twisted up in this.” While I could easily sleep in Katsu’s clothing, this was one of Mai’s designs and the obi had gotten turned around – or something.

“Wear one of mine.” Apparently, he didn’t trust that I would come back… which, good call. “Or nothing at all?” he added with a note of hope in his voice.

By this time, it was too dark to even find his clothing, and after I whacked my shin on his desk, I heard a clink as he struck a quartz to light the lantern. “Thanks.” The lantern’s glow provided enough light for me to find the kimono I’d worn in the cave – it looked freshly laundered. Of course, at that point, I was irreparably a prisoner of my obi, and I cursed after my third attempt of unknotting it.

There was a hastily muffled snort of laughter from the home audience. I turned to find Shingen had propped himself up on his elbow and was watching me with that sly grin on his face. “Really? You could offer to help.”

“I don’t know. Didn’t you just say you can take care of yourself? I don’t want to offer help if it would be an insult.” He winked. “And I’m enjoying the view.”

“I have a varied set of skills and talents, but burlesque is not one of them,” I grumbled, as I yanked ineffectively at the cord. Nor is escape artist, apparently, except in the figurative sense.

“You’ll have to explain that to me later. Come over here, you’re making it worse.” His sly grin upgraded to that wicked smile I loved so much. “Removing women’s clothing is definitely one of my talents.”

“Consider me shocked by that confession,” I said, while he worked skillfully to unsnarl the knots in the cord.

“You don’t appear to be especially bothered by that either,” he noted, as he eased the layers of my kimono off my shoulder, and lightly kissed the bare skin below, setting off that now-familiar reverb.

“It would be hypocritical to complain about something I am currently benefitting from,” I said. I was less bothered by the fact that he had a past, than I was apprehensive about the expiration date of my place in his present. But it wasn’t his job to prop up my ego.

Instead, I stood up and slowly removed the top kimono layer. If he was going to request that I stay, I was going to torture him – just a little. I took the time to stretch out my arms and legs before shrugging my shoulders so that the kimono slid off my body and pooled at my feet. Well, he had noted he was enjoying the view. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. Yep, he was watching. I bent over and picked up the discarded kimono, running my hands over the silky material, then slowly and neatly folding it. Then I took my time putting his kimono on, again taking a moment to appreciate the softness of the material on my shoulders.

This morning I had witnessed Chiyome perform this act in reverse, but I had a much more … appreciative audience?

Or… not.

When I turned to climb into bed, I realized his eyes had drifted shut – Shingen was asleep.

I was right the first time. Burlesque is not one of my talents.

I awoke to pinkish daylight and Shingen’s grey eyes watching me. He seemed pretty alert – must have been awake for a while. “Hi,” I said, feeling a bit of ‘morning after’ awkwardness, even though it wasn’t ‘after’ anything.

“Hi.” He smiled and kissed me thoroughly enough to chase away any lingering cobwebs of sleep. I could get used to this. Still-

“So, just making sure I didn’t kick you or steal the blankets or…” snore. Please don’t tell me I snored.

“You talk in your sleep.” There was an amused look in his eyes. “A lot.”

“I do?” Eek! What did I say?

“If the sounds and words I heard are any indication, you dreamed of me, and per your dreams, I am an incredibly virile and skilled lover – a dream, I might add, I intend to make come true soon.” He leisurely trailed his hand along my hip, and the part of me that wished I could remember the dream was drowned out by the part that was mentally going, ‘how soon?’

Shingen, however, was still going on about my sleep monologue. “I believe I heard you say, ‘oh, Shingen, you’re a magnificent beast!’” He spoke in a girlish falsetto. “Yes, there, you’re amazing. Ooh, yes!”

“You… you’re a beast alright, but I’m taking the magnificent out of the equation,” I said when he could no longer continue the joke and started snickering. I glared at him. “Laugh while you can, because I am not usually that gullible.” Oh, if only I had a modern pillow, I would whomp him with it!

“I know, Devil.” He kissed me again. “That’s why I enjoyed it so much. That, and the fact that your eyes sparkle when you’re trying to stay mad at me.”

“You’re impossible,” I said, but without any real anger, because it was such a relief to see that he was looking better today and acting so close to his old self.

He confirmed that by saying, “I ought to get to work on all those messages and reports.” He eyed the stack that I’d been adding to over the past couple of days.

I got up and stretched, my joints cracking a bit. “If you have anything you want to take care of immediately, tell me, and I’ll make a morning delivery run.”

Shingen had already grabbed the message on top of the stack. “I’ll want to alert my cousin that I’m up and around.”

“Yoshimoto?” There was a rattle at the door, and I almost expected it to be Yoshimoto, summoned by his name like Beetlejuice, but it was just a maid bringing Shingen’s breakfast. And … oh… my breakfast too. Yeesh. #Castlegrapevine. “He probably already knows. Everyone knows everything in this building.”

“Not Yoshimoto. Chiyome. She’s my cousin as well. Although I wouldn’t be surprised if she also already knows.” He shot a quick glance at the ceiling.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were related.” Especially since the Takeda charm gene seemed to have bypassed her. But that reminded me of the other thing I needed to float by him. “She gave me tea.” Which was back in my own quarters, along with Susumu’s fish guts kimono. I made a mental note to retrieve both.

It didn’t look like a lightbulb was going off over his head, so apparently the tea had been Chiyome’s idea and not his. “She served you tea? That… doesn’t sound like her.” He sat down in front of the breakfast tray. “You are going to help me eat all this, yes?”

I plopped down across from him and began dishing up a bowl of rice and stewed fruit. “Um, no. She sent me home with a packet of tea and told me to drink it every day… um-” Well… best to just dive right in. “Apparently it’s a contraceptive tea.”

“Ah.”

Which was all he had to say about that. And I thought telling him I was from the future would be the most awkward conversation we would have. “Is it sa-” I started to ask at the same time that he said, “Do you want-”

We both broke off, mid-sentence. He gestured for me to go first. “Is it safe to drink? She wouldn’t poison me… would she?”

“I wouldn’t think so, but you could take it to the castle healer and have him examine it, if you’re worried.” He looked down at his breakfast, poked at it with chopsticks, without putting it into his mouth. “Does that mean that you would drink it if it were safe?”

“I would, yes. I hope that doesn’t upset you.” I would still drink it even if he were upset… in fact, I likely wouldn’t have brought it up, if I hadn’t wanted reassurance that Chiyome wouldn’t poison me. Although I had told her that I didn’t think it was poison, that statement had been more bravado than anything else.

“If I weren’t sick, I might feel differently… but the last thing I want is to leave behind a child who will never know his or her father.” He pushed his breakfast away, uneaten. “Drink the tea.”

I had lost my appetite too but didn’t have the will to push the dish away as he had. “I’m sorry I mentioned it.”

“Katsuko.” I looked up at the unexpected sound of my name on his lips, instead of one of the many nicknames he liked to use. “I’ve had a long time to get used to my fate.” He rubbed his chest. “You didn’t suddenly remind me of something that I haven’t learned to accept. I’ve known for years that I would never have a family, that growing old with someone and watching our children have children was not in my future.” The regret in his voice was more powerful than the words – powerful enough to convince me that losing the opportunity to have a family had been the most difficult thing for him to accept. “I… would rather not remind other people of that though. The look on your face right now … the one I see on Yukimura’s face from time to time, is what is more painful to me.”

He beckoned me closer, put his hands on my face, and kissed me with such passion and need that I nearly lost all power of thought. “I like this look on your face much better – and I promise to take every opportunity to keep it there.”

Yup. Power of thought. Gone.

As if to prove his words, he kissed me again, before sighing, “Alright, as much as I would like to continue this, we both have things to do. Yours involves your daily death-by-Kenshin. Once you’ve been resurrected and have finished your message rounds, you can help me sort through these – if you’re interested in learning more about tactics and strategy.” He gestured to his pile of messages and reports.

“Would I sound too much like Yukimura if I cautioned you to not push yourself too hard? And, you know, take breaks every so often?” I could just imagine that once he sat down to those reports, he would still be at it when I returned.

“You would, but it feels better coming from you.” He settled himself in front of his desk and drew the pile of parchments and scrolls closer to him.

Yep, he was going to push himself – that would be the second thing I needed to deal with. The first? I needed seek out one time-travelling moderately awesome ninja.

@bestbryn

[kiss-my-freckle]

Episode 10x10 Rewatch

The Postman, his girlfriend, Carrie Baker, and the Maryland AG.

Tom, Liz, Eugene Ames, and Connolly.

"I believe that if she is given a fair trial by a jury of her peers, there aren’t 12 people in America who wouldn’t agree with me.” - Ressler

Cooper and The Postman show otherwise. 

Juror: Cash stolen from her wallet... and Nelson's DNA on the purse.

Interrogator: But your partial prints were on the device. Liz: That’s not possible.

“What the hell?”

Between Sleep And Awake

Ressler is sponsoring Jonathon the way Lauren sponsored him.

Jonathan: Ah, it just makes me realize how busted I was before. Ressler: Hey, I was a wreck at your point in recovery, I hadn't even shaved yet.

Broken and dead. 

Jonathan: But right now, I'm just really happy to be back in the world of the living.

Barber: You all right, son? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.

The point of the car.

Ressler: I didn’t know it at the time, but that car wasn’t the only thing I was fixing. I mean, when I started, it was - it was broken. Nothing about it worked. It was - It was dead to the world.

Red velvet cake pops, Son Phillip to Father Phillip...

Herbie: Rosaries. Ressler: Rosaries? As in Catholicism? Herbie: Yeah, brought me right back to Father Phillip telling me I was going straight to hell for not using a hall pass. That's a heavy load to put on a kid with a small bladder, especially right before his bar mitzvah.

Hitchin: Hand to God, how amazing was Saturday? I know I’m his mom, but Phillip’s Bar Mitzvah - cutest thing ever. Wright: It was incredible. Hitchin: Although my idiot husband did order 500 extra swag bags, so one for you, one for you -

Greatest dialogue of the episode, Keenler Baby...

Agnes: Except one of us is secretly an imposter.

Between Sleep And Awake. The shooting death of Tom Connolly.

Tom, 2x21: All right, dream scenario. We finish our coffee...

Ressler, 2x22: Damn it, Liz, wake up...

Aram: You’re right. That’s a - That’s a different boat. Ressler: It’s a different ocean.

The Harbormaster Investigation

Cooper: It's just that someone from my past has suddenly popped out of the woodwork. Red: Ghosts like to do that, don't they? Pop out of the woodwork.

Ressler: Tom Keen came out of the woodwork. Cooper: Keen? Does he know something?

Complicated...

Juror: It's not that complicated. There's either DNA or there's not. Cooper: It's not complicated because you want to go home.

Nik: Whoa. You’re… I didn’t know. And Tom’s… Obviously. It’s just… when I saw you last, it didn’t seem like you were together. Liz: It’s complicated.

Cape May waters and the marina where Tom moored his boat... 

Red: As a man with some criminal experience, I can assure you that sometimes forces much greater than ourselves help to lead us to those waters.

Liz: That’s not how the truth works. You don’t get to pick and choose. Not if you want to learn how to swim.

Tom: We don’t save people, Gina. We watch them drown.

Good vs bad...

Juror: You really want this kid to be innocent. But guess what. Sometimes people do bad things! 

Red: Bad things happen to good people. 

Bad luck... 

Juror: Oh, come on, though. If he didn't do it with evidence as is, he's got to be the unluckiest SOB in Baltimore. Cooper: Unlucky isn't a crime.

Red: What I do know is that – whether it’s chance or karma, DNA or fate, or just bad luck - this is where you are now. This is who you’ve become. A criminal. A fugitive.

The washer necklace... bad luck.  

Liz: I don’t know what happened. I used to consider myself lucky. I had a husband I loved, a job I always wanted. I was the kind of person good things happen to. [...] Red: Sometimes bad luck is the best luck you’ll ever have.

Liz: You want to see what else brings me luck? Agnes: What is that? Liz: Did I ever tell you how your Daddy asked me to marry him?

Tom, Judge Denner, and Connolly... 

Juror: Okay. What about this? Two days ago, his girlfriend swore on a Bible, took the stand, and told us that Lawrence Nelson privately confessed to the murder. How do you explain that? Cooper: He is insistent that conversation never happened with her.

Cooper: I recognize that it's improbable, but maybe there's a reason his girlfriend would've lied about his confession. She was already at the police station for some other reason when she made that accusation. And before we send a man to prison, I think we should know why. Juror: That information was struck from the record by the judge.

The Postman: I'm not signing a confession. Cooper: It's not a confession. It's a 30 -year-old transcript of your old girlfriend's first conversation with the police on the night of Carrie Baker's murder, the same conversation that made her the star witness against you in court. That transcript should've been given to your counsel. It wasn't. The Postman: She doesn't mention me. At all. Cooper: The BPD was investigating her for drug charges. The fact that she gave them a story about you less than 24 hours after the murder and that the prosecution withheld this information at trial suggests that she may have testified against you as part of a quid-pro-quo deal orchestrated by the prosecutor. The Postman: She was scared to go to prison. So she sent me instead.

Like Tom and his private confession to Judge Denner, only for Connolly to walk in. Quid-pro-quo. How Liz went from Eugene Ames to Most Wanted.

Tom: Wait! Listen! I will make a confession. I will give you a full deal. But you have to promise me that you leave Liz out of this. Connolly: THAT deal won’t happen.

Liz: What’s gonna happen to Tom? Connolly: Who? Liz: My ex-husband, Tom Keen? Connolly: I never met him. There’s no Tom Keen in federal custody.

A reason Tom Keen walked out of federal custody and Liz walked in... just like The Postman. And like The Postman... might as well have arrived in a pine box. 

Reminds me of the Drexel painting. 

And with Karakurt vibes. 

Hitchin: And what if he opens the door? Director: Well, we return to the original plan. We take Elizabeth Keen to an undisclosed location for questioning, from which she will try to escape. And then we’ll be forced to shoot her. In any case, you are looking at a ghost.

The difference between season 3 and season 8 Liz...

Cooper: You were so adamant then that you were innocent. We have to hold you accountable for your new crimes. Still, I'm gonna do everything I can to have the original crime expunged from your record.

Agnes make all the difference...

Cooper: And I'm going to try to hold Christopher Jay accountable too. The Postman: What difference does it make now? Cooper: It makes all the difference.

Jennifer: So he did this to you. Liz: What difference does it make? We’re so close! Jennifer: The difference that it makes is that I’m worried that he’s gonna do it to me.

Liz makes all the difference... 

Ressler: I’m just saying, if she did reach out to you, if you actually saw her, you might think differently. Aram: Did she reach out to you? Ressler: No, she didn’t. But if she did– I’m just saying it might make a difference.

Ressler: Look, I know what Cooper said– Aram: He didn’t “say,” he ordered. Ressler: Yeah, but I told you, if you saw her you’d think differently.

Aram: You were right. It is different.

Not a Keen, but a Ressler. 

Liz: I am attempting to build a life with the father of my child.

Why Liz is now dead. 

Director: In any case, you are looking at a ghost.

Because of her second memory wipe. It’s all there. Karakurt and the Orea bombing, chemical weapon and the senator, Connolly's shooting.

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

I Prefer My Heart To Be Broken, Chapter Nineteen: The Transfer

A friend’s advice. An enemy’s offer. A terrible, desperate choice.

AO3 | Playlist | Masterpost

-----

CHAPTER NINETEEN: THE TRANSFER

Oliver walks him back.

It’s comforting. Jon’s not even sure why; but then, Oliver has always been comforting. “You don’t have to do this,” Jon says. “Apparently, it’s years of your… death, or whatever, if what you said about time is accurate.”

“I don’t mind. I like you, Jon. Always have. And like I said—it’s going to be okay. I want you to know.”

“I’m beginning to think you think I don’t believe you,” says Jon, smiling weakly.

“I know you’re stubborn, and I know you’re hurt,” says Oliver. “I also know it’s easier to blame yourself than assign it to others. Just… some things should be let go, you know? Some lies really aren’t worth carrying. And you’re in a good place to put lies down for good.”

“To leave them dead, you mean?”

“Something like that.”

It’s such uncomplicated kindness.

Jon wipes his eyes. “So it’s not just hell after death. And maybe love and connection can… make it good, in the end.”

“I have no complaints.”

“Right. Right. Thank you,” says Jon, meaning so much more than just this.

Oliver smiles. “See you.”

“Ominous.”

“I didn't say soon.”

“Still ominous.”

They both smile. 

It’s a good farewell.

Jon climbs down.

He begins hurting again halfway down the red ladder.

So, this place is fucked up.

“Hello, Jon,” says Jonah, who waited, which is also fucked up. “What do you have there?”

That curiosity is awful. Absolutely invasive. Jon hopes his doesn’t feel like that. “What I came for.” 

Jon squints. He can see the way. It’s far.

He could make another one, maybe.

But the fact that walking to the old one seems like a lot of energy means it probably wouldn’t be such a good idea to try such powers right now.

Whatever Kayne did has badly damaged the current in his metaphorical house. 

Kayne hadn’t just hurt him.

This was harm.

So cruel. Kayne could have just killed him. Instead… he’s leaking.

Slowly, Jon starts walking, trying not to wonder if he’s going to make it back.

“Do you want to be rid of the Fears?” says Jonah, pacing him again.

Jon sighs. “There’s no way to do that.”

“But there is.” And Jonah steps in front of him, gray eyes gleaming like polished metal. 

Jon does not have the emotional bandwidth to deal with this. “What, do you want me to give them to you, or something?”

Jonah smiles.

Jon laughs. It’s a bitter, terrible sound. “You’re joking!”

“Not at all. I am dead, Jon. I have no plans to remedy that, because as long as I am, I cannot die again. And really—it’s not as though you’d be inflicting them on an innocent world, would you?”

Jon sputters. “How would that even work? They—no. This is ridiculous.”

Jonah gets right in his face.

It isn’t a body, Jon knows. None of this is physical except for him, he knows.

His brain sure is interpreting it that way, though, and he can hear Jonah’s steps, and feel his breath, and see the weird, sickly light shine in his eyes. 

“You owe me,” says Jonah.

Jon barks a laugh. “Why, because I stabbed you?”

“No. Because I let you keep Martin.”

Jon takes one step back. 

Jonah smiles.

Evenly, calmly, Jon says, “Explain that.”

“Do you know how easy it would have been to take him away from you?” says Jonah, almost sweetly. “I considered it. What absolute child’s play it would have been? I let you have him. I did that out of kindness.”

“You did it because it didn’t matter to you!” Jon counters. “Because you were too lazy to do it! Because—“

“Because he was a consolation prize,” says Jonah, sharp. “I was trying to be nice.”

Jon wishes he had the cane. He’d reconsider whacking. “Bullshit.”

Jonah just smiles.

Jon feels sick. “You really think I would ever give you power? Just, what, hand them over, like signing off a deed? You think I’m going to just… let you have everything you want? Again?”

“Yes. Because it will work. And then my apocalypse stays here, and you get to go free, and live your… little life, whatever you’re doing, which, I really don’t care. We’ll be even.”

“I don’t care about being even with you,” Jon hisses. “I could never be even for all you did to me.”

“I gave you godhood,” Jonah hisses. “This would balance the scales.”

And Jon realizes, all of a sudden, that Jonah doesn’t actually know what he did.

He doesn’t know the final steps, all that was required for true deification—at least, according to John.

At the very least, without a living sacrifice to make, Jonah will not be a god. Jonah will, in fact, be beholden to the Fears like Jon was in the apocalypse—until Jon had murdered him.

He’d be stuck, at the whims of the Dread Powers, unable to escape.

It seems cruel. Even done to Jonah, it seems cruel.

Jon hesitates.

“You’ll enjoy the process,” says Jonah, and he somehow looks smug and scared at once. “You’d have to mark me to make it happen.”

“You wouldn’t have time to adjust the way I did.”

“Is that compassion, Jon? How sweet. Time is different for me. I’ll be fine.”

He wouldn’t, though. Jon is sure.

And even though Jon didn’t want to know it would work, didn’t ask for that knowledge, that information, that data, the Eye gives it to him, anyway.

He could do it. Wield the Fears like he did against Kayne, and deeply wound Jonah with every single mark.

And then, if Jonah did the mass ritual, they’d latch on to him. 

Would they survive here? He has no idea. Maybe they’d starve, maybe they wouldn’t.

Would they spill into the good place? The non-binary heaven, or whatever Oliver said it was?

No; he knows they would not, any more than Jonah could even see it existed. Jonah thinks the whole place is hell. Oliver proved it’s not.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” says Jon, slowly. “You won’t enjoy it. Not like you think you will.”

“I think I’ll be the judge of that. I saw what you went through. It looked… exquisite.” Jonah shudders.

“It wasn’t. I’m telling you, it was horrible.” 

Jonah is as close to patient as he ever gets. “Really, Jon, you’re being obstinate for no reason. Are you afraid I’ll use their power and leave? Why would I? Everyone comes here, anyway. I’ll have all I want to watch, for eternity, and as long as I stay here, I will never fear dying again. You get what you want; I get what I want. Where is the downside?”

There’s a lie in there somewhere, but Jon doesn’t care about that.

He cares that fucking Jonah always gets what he wants.

But the Fears would be… gone.

But Jonah always gets what he wants.

But no one could come after Jon for the damned fear gods again.

But Jonah always gets what he wants.

But he and Martin could be free. And powerless, he reminds himself.

But he was powerless against Kayne, anyway.

But what if he could protect Martin? (Powerless against Kayne, this wouldn’t work, it wouldn’t.)

What if…

Jon is so tired.

This would be giving Jonah what he wants. That one, petty detail is enough to drive him to say no, and Jon looks up to do it.

And sees Annabelle Cane perched on one of the junk piles behind Jonah.

She meets his eyes and gives him a nod.

One nod.

One single nod.

Her words from that tape in London come back to his mind, crystal clear as though he’s hearing them again: The question isn’t whether you can prevent it. You can’t—but you have options beyond it happening or not.

This was what she’d meant?

This?

“You are making quite the face,” says Jonah, and doesn’t turn around because, apparently, Jon is more fascinating to watch than whatever is happening back there.

Jon makes another face at her and gestures. Are you bloody serious?

She smiles.

This can’t have been what she meant.

Because that meant she would have known what Hastur was really up to, and knew that Jon could do it, and he’d end up in the Dark World, and—

Jon rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Fuck my life,” he says.

Jonah is leaning in again. “Jon. Do it. You know you want to hurt me, anyway. Do it. Mark me. I will call the dogs off you for good.”

Jon feels like he’s being herded, but he hurts, he feels shredded, he’s too tired to think, he wants to go home (Martin is home), he wants to believe Annabelle has a fucking plan. “What guarantee do I have you’ll let me go after?”

“Hm—you don’t. I could give my word, but we both know that’s ridiculous. How about this? Let’s go and do this right by your exit, whatever it is—I could see you looking at it. That way, when you’re done, all you need to do is to walk away.”

Assuming Jon was still alive.

But…

He is not the same as he was in the apocalypse. John, Hastur, everybody keeps telling him he is no longer human. That he is a god, whatever that means.

Maybe he wouldn’t die.

And maybe he would.

And maybe that would mean, finally, he couldn’t hurt anyone around him anymore—

“No,” Jon says, softly, rejecting that habitual thought. “No, that isn’t right.” Because it’s not.

“What?” says Jonah.

This wouldn’t be about removing a problem because… he isn’t the problem.

Annabelle said it.

Oliver said it.

Martin made it clear Jon is not the problem, at least, to him.

It's a decision gate. A choice. A crossroad.

Jon’s not sure who he’ll be anymore if he gives up that guilt, that shame he’s used to steering by.

But he knows Martin wants him to, knows Martin doesn’t believe he should carry the guilt of the world.

Jon can’t see himself the way Martin does, but he can shift perspective. He takes a breath, and he makes the choice to believe Martin. Or at least, to try.

He looks at Annabelle again.

One more time, she nods.

It could damn well mean anything.

But it will mean, he knows, what he’s inclined to think it means, because that’s how the Spider works.

Maybe… maybe it would work out. 

Maybe they could be together.

Maybe—

“I would offer you a handkerchief, but alas, I’m out,” says Jonah, smiling, because he knows he’s won.

Jon wipes his eyes. He can’t believe he’s doing this. “Fine. Follow me.”

He looks up, willing Annabelle to tell him if he’ll survive, but—of course—she’s gone.

Of course.

Jon thinks some very unkind words about Annabelle Cane.

Jonah, Jon is realizing, does not blink.

The stare is discomfiting. Locked on, focused, with a weight like the Eye itself, as if he’s trying to smoosh Jon’s flesh aside like clay to see what’s underneath.

Jon thinks it probably always was that way. They were all just too human to feel it.

He stops a few meters from the way. “Here’s good.”

“Here?” Jonah cannot tell why, and it shows.

Good. 

Jon swallows. “This is going to hurt.”

“I know.”

But Jonah is afraid.

Good.

“It’s going to feel like hell.”

“I know.”

Jonah is very afraid.

Good.

“If this works, I never want to see you again.”

“Then let’s hope you find an alternate place to go after death,” Jonah says lightly, because he believes there isn’t one. “When you come to me, I won’t spare you.”

“You never did before, so why would you start now?” Jon mutters.

Jonah leans right in. “I did. Or you wouldn’t have him.”

Jon swallows. He wants to argue.

He can’t.

They were in that cabin in Scotland for a month, unprotected. It would have been easy to remove Martin, to kill him, to have him killed.

Jon doesn’t want to be grateful for something that should be a given. “Are you ready?”

Jonah’s grin is more like a grimace, desperate, determined, victorious, and afraid. “Yes.”

Jon starts with Desolation because that's the mood he’s in.

(part twenty)

NOTES

Annabelle

Annabelle, what are you doing, Annabelle