#Mr Puzzle Drawing Files

[mrpuzzle]

Calling! ☎️

[dimensional-dimentio]

I wanted to try drawing some of the others for once, seeing as I almost exclusively draw The Freak. Speaking of, here is how Dimentio looked during the course of SPM! :-)

How about some headcanons for them as well? I'll put it under the cut:

O'Chunks

- He/Him cishet man

- Very big fellow, coming in at 215cm (~ 7'0" ft)!

- Blind in one eye from an old injury

- Suffers from hearing loss in both ears because... Well... War and all (Referring to Mario as "Maria" was due to mishearing Mario's name) (He'd probably be talked into hearing aids post-game and go "OH. Oh. So that's how sounds're 'sposed to be heard.") (I don't know how to write his accent, I'm so sorry 😭)

- He probably has PTSD given he's a war vet. I could see there being a lot of survivor's guilt as well

- Hobbies include weightlifting, cooking/baking, and knitting (Knitting helps him relax + having to be so delicate with the tools helps him feel more confident in how much control he has over his own strength)

- I could see him having decent handyman skills (think building repairs and such; he's the one on the team who would take care of things like broken furniture, busted walls, or leaking pipes)

- Definitely the kind of guy who loves to watch wrestling (Mr. L is the most likely to join him; Mimi, Nastasia, and Dimentio sometimes stick around out of curiosity or boredom)

- This man has cursed me. Never again can I listen to I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles) without thinking of him /silly

- Usually drinks his coffee black but is a fan of the sweeter coffees Mimi (and occasionally Dimentio) would sometimes make him

- Not really into doing his nails but he lets Mimi file them and give them a clear coat sometimes

Count Bleck

- He/Him cis straight man, greyromantic and asexual

- Another tall fellow at 192cm (~ 6'3" ft)

- He doesn't actually have legs, he's using magic to essentially possess the clothing and give the illusion of legs

- Count Bleck is autistic and has PTSD, DPDR, MDD, and BPD. To me.

- He's a very big fan of reading, his two favorite genres being gothic horror and romance. Really loves the classics!

- I think he'd like floral teas and oolong teas

- Much like Nastasia, he has strong senses of hearing and smell

- His eyes glow, letting him see well in the dark (His red eyes glow brightest, his blue eyes glow dimmer, and he can stop them from glowing altogether, making his eyes look black like Mimi's)

- His natural magic proficiency is actually fire magic, but he stopped using it in favor of void/dark magic after reading the Dark Prognosticus (He still radiates warmth like a space heater though)

- Most of the in-game scenes you see of him are him reciting from the Dark Prognosticus. When he's not doing that, he's very reticent and quiet

- He's scared of getting too close to anyone because he doesn't want to feel the sting of loss again, but he can't help himself from caring about his minions in the end anyways

- "I miss my wife, heroes, I miss her a lot. I'll be back." /silly /quo

Nastisia

- She/Her trans woman, biromantic, demisexual, and polyamorous (What I'm saying is she has two hands) (Curious, seeing as O'Chunks and Mimi both have at least one holdable hand!)

- Height of about 172cm (~ 5'7" ft)

- She can turn back into a bat, and will sometimes do so on instinct when startled particularly badly

- Strong sense of hearing and smell; useful but leads to her getting overstimulated easily

- Autistic and probably more, though I'm not entirely sure what else...

- Doesn't drink caffeine because it makes her shaky and anxious, but she does enjoy hot chocolate

- She feels like the type to do word searches and puzzles for fun, and I could see her going down Wikipedia page rabbit holes due to being naturally very curious

- I think she'd like darkwave music

- Has to drink blood to sustain herself; she usually buys blood from blood banks (Though O'Chunks is happy to lend her blood if need be)

- Aside from her main dietary requirement of blood, she really enjoys fruit, especially citrus fruits and mangos!

Mimi

- She/It girlthing + greysexual lesbian (I'm choosing to interpret the "hunky lifeguards" line as muscular woman, you can tear this headcanon from my cold dead hands /vlh)

- Height of 159cm (~ 5'2" ft)

- Failed attempt at making a Pixl; doesn't remember this part of itself (or most of its past, really)

- She's a strange mix of magical, mechanical, and biological. Don't ask me how this works I couldn't tell you

- In conjunction with the amnesia about her past, she struggles very strongly with gaining a sense of identity for herself

- BPD, HPD and ADHD haver. To me.

- Likes drawing, specifically to design outfits and is in the process of learning to sew its own clothes!

- She LOVES Charli XCX, Marina and the Diamonds, and BABYMETAL

- I could not explain the specifics if asked, but I think it would be neat if her mechanical/magical parts could easily convert sugar into fuel (Oh my! A reason to give her a sweet tooth!)

- Really likes cold/iced coffee that's so sweet it barely tastes like coffee anymore

- It doesn't like people knowing about its mechanical parts, but has let Mr. L do repairs once or twice due to it being unavoidable (It taught itself how to do self-repairs, but with Mr. L being an actual mechanic, he had her gears running smoother than they had in years) (I stole this headcanon from another user but I can't for the life of me find the post again AUGH)

Dimentio

- He/They/It transmasc, genderqueer, greyrose, omniromantic (Wait, this is a little different than you remember? How odd!) (... How queer, one might say)

- Height of 162cm (~ 5'3" ft)

- Chronic knee pain (worse in his left knee recently), moderate hearing loss in left ear, blindness in right eye, recently sustained burn-related nerve damage

- Much like Mimi, they really enjoy cold/iced coffee that's very sweet, especially dalgonas!

- Autistic with NPD, BPD, STPD, and C-PTSD

- Demented, the perfume from that in-game gag, is an actual perfume they make, mostly for themselves. It smells like roses, vanilla, and sandalwood

- Except, no, wait, sometimes it prefers hot black coffees ("I like bitter drinks to match my bitter moods!"). Though, there are other times where he prefers jasmine rose tea, except sometimes he says his favorite drink is actually taro milk tea with boba (Recently, their favorite drink has been hot chocolate for cold weather and chocolate milk for warm weather)

- This is the Dimentio Blog run by the Dimentio Derangement Person. You will see more headcanons in time /silly

Mr. L

- He/him trans guy, aroace

- Height of 175cm (~ 5'9" ft)

- Bad knees that he manages with knee braces and occasionally some pain meds

- The most autism guy ever. I also think he has general anxiety, ADHD, maladaptive daydreaming, and NPD (Why yes, I do think there's a case to be made for Luigi having NPD too [specifically covert NPD, while Mr. L's presentation is more like overt NPD], but I question if the people are ready /silly /vlh)

- He listens to a lot of alternative music (Set It Off, Slipknot, and Slayer come to mind) (I think Mimi would get him into Utsu-P; Luigi would happen to find their music again and wonder why it reminds him of a friend he can't remember too well)

- Black coffee drinker

- He's no longer allowed to have access to his full stash of energy drinks after he knocked back 7 cans in a day and gave himself heart palpations

- Bad at remembering to sleep and take care of himself (Mimi and O'Chunks are usually the ones having to remind him to eat) (Even Dimentio once teleported him outside and told him to touch grass)

- The Brobot is his pride and joy, he's working on it nearly 24/7

- Possibly an odd point but I think he'd constantly smell like motor oil, black coffee, and cheap cologne

- Likes to paint his nails black sometimes (Not that I remembered to draw this </3)

[madamspellmans-met-tet]

🦂 Rapunzel 🦂

Dr. Florence Seward x fem!reader

tags: Hurt/Comfort, Su!cide Attempt, Bruises, not specified whether romantic or platonic, psychologist/patient, Comfort, Selective Mutism, Dissociation, Asylum, Pet Names, author thinks this is boring

wc: ~ 3.6 k

summary: It's December 27th. Late at night, Dr. Seward gets a call from Bethlam Royal Hospital about a patient she's been seeing.

A/N: Big trigger warning! It's non-graphic but thematically quite heavy. Read at your own risk. I made an OC just because of the topic so that the reader maintains some distance.

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

Spending Christmas alone was a pointless endeavour, as far as Florence was concerned, and so she’d spent the holidays in her office, catching up on patient files by candlelight, since daylight was scarce in the depths of winter. In the corner of a new page of her notebook, she wrote down Dec. 27th with her fountain pen.

“Dr. Seward?” the new secretary—Mr. Fletcher—knocked on the wooden frame after having already opened the door to her office—as if it would annul the unseemly breach of decorum. For all of Renfield’s eventual descent into vampirism, his manners had been flawless from the day he started working for her. She set the pen down on the paper with a sharp pointedness, raising her eyebrows at him.

He shrank and gathered his hands close to his chest as if blocking a bullet to his heart, tapping from one foot to the other in this unbearable habit before speaking.

“It is way past my office hours, Fletcher. And yours, might I add. What is it?”

“A call came in. From Bethlam.”

She let go of the pen entirely and leaned back in her chair, keeping the heels of her hands against the edge of the table. “Bethlam?” she said, puzzled. “At this hour?”

After what Vanessa had told her about her treatment, she’d begun looking into the place under the guise of a private research project on institutionalised patients that aimed to promote successful releases accompanied by outpatient care and had taken up a few hours there.

“Yes. It concerns a Miss Harcourt in your care?”

Florence pushed up from her chair, drawing in a sharp breath through her nose. Elizabeth Harcourt; eighteen years old. Little Lizzy—she’d come to think of her as even though she knew she shouldn’t. “What about her?”

“They wouldn’t disclose it to me.” He pressed his thin lips shut right after speaking, making them almost disappear. She never understood what it was that made her so fearsome, but after her late husband, she preferred it this way. Perhaps she’d gained an aura after that night that she wore like a military badge.

“Get them on the phone again, Fletcher!” she demanded and went straight to the liquor cabinet for a glass of whisky and a cigarette. She’d given up on quitting after Vanessa’s death. Bethlam calling at this hour couldn’t mean anything good, and after how the last session had unfolded, her insides twisted.

-> continue

[4thwallbreakerdraws2]

WELCOME DEAR VIEWER!

ılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılıılı

ᯓ★WELCOME TO MY BLOG!

[4THWALLBREAKER/ANIMSAY || SHE/HER ||MUSLIM ]

[WIP]

ᯓ★ [BOUNDARIES]

Don’t compare my art or me to god.

Please don’t joke about religious characters in my presence.

Keep it SFW, asks included.

Don’t repost my art without my permission.

Try to keep mention about alcohol as minimal as possible, please.

Don’t ship my character with your or other characters! Platonic relationships are a-okay though!

Don’t repost my art without my permission.

Do not use my characters to vent or send vent into my inbox.

ᯓ★[PROJECTS]

200 Follower Event/RTV TOUR: Concluded

ᯓ★ [SMG4 AU’s]

REALITY TV AU

Mr Puzzles won at the end of the Puzzlevision movie, brainwashing almost everyone in the world of SMG4. With his enemies on the run or under his command, he now turns his attention towards a greater audience: The viewers. Us.

RTV!Puzzles Reference Puzzlevision HQ Departments + Others

➜ Main Tag: RTV au

ADMINISTRATION AU

An Au where things went slightly different than in the original. Mr Puzzles started working for Didney almost immediately after going into Showbusiness, Puzzlevision never happened, Oneshot Wren became a detective instead of a criminal etc. The main focus of the AU is Mod, my SMG4 Oc, who tries to bring a sense of balance and justice into the world as a new police officer. IT HAS IT’S OWN BLOG HERE: @4thwallbreakerinjail

➜ Main Tag: #Admin AU

PENITENTIARY AU

What if every major villain in SMG4 somehow survived and got stuffed into prison instead? An AU revolving all around the Mushroom Kingdom Penitentiary, it’s inmates, it’s staff and the ones who dare to step foot into the facility.

-> Penitentiary AU Masterpost -> Peniteniary AU Character Files

-> Main Tag: #Penitentiary AU

ᯓ★[INTERACTIONS/CHARACTER DUOS]

Tags under which I will draw interactions or simple art pieces of the different Mr Puzzles versions and others out there. Showstars: SMG16 (@birdy-four ) & RTV!Puzzles

➜ #Showstars

ᯓ★[OTHER TAGS]

A bunch of other tags that don’t really fit the other categories! Ani talks: Me talking over stuff. Ani inserts: My own OC/Self-inserts

➜ #Ani talks, #Ani inserts

ᯓ★ [SELF-INSERTS]

RTV!AU:

-> RTV SELF INSERT MASTERPOST (A List of all inserts)

-> RTV AU Insert Rules & Guidelines

-> RTV AU Insert Types and Brainwash/Mind Control

Penitentiary!AU:

-> Penitentiary AU Masterpost

If you have questions and/or scenarios you would like me to consider, then never be afraid to message or @ me!

-> RTV SELF INSERT MASTERPOST (A List of all inserts

ᯓ★[OTHER BLOGS]

@your4thwallbreaker - Main Blog, mostly for off topic reblogs

@4thwallbreakerdraws - Other Art Blog for non SMG4 related stuff

@4thwallbreakerinjail - Admin AU askblog

@rtv-puzzlevision-studios - RTV Tour Event Blog

ASKBOX: OPEN

[orbitinthegalaxy]

this is a lil something I threw together in november, inspired by chapter 6/7 of @screams-in-writing’s “Performance Enhancing Coffee” fic on ao3!

I originally intended posting it as a collage of drawings based on this fic, but it got abandoned…and I found it collecting dust in my files. (I really should’ve posted it sooner, but better late than never, lmao.)

this is my second actual drawing of mr puzzles, so I’m still getting used to it, lol

[pastelheart22]

꧁❆ My welcome page ❆꧂

✦ Hi there, call me pastel or Mimi (it's an online name, I don't wanna be called by my real name because i would been hunted by predators ;-;).

✦ I'm a minor and under 18, so don't anything weird or Innaproate messages to me, I'll get very uncomfortable if you do.

✦ I'm usually shy so I rarely responds to people in private messages, but would try to answers in question box.

✦ Yumejoshi/yumeshipper & ocxcanon shippers that yume and ship my ocs with my fictional crushes. Also I'm a nonsharable yumejoshi/yumeshipper, but sometimes selective and sharing with mutuals and friends.

✦ A digital artist that loves to draws on my iPad, using the app Ibis Paint X.

✦ I don't support Vivziepop and what she done, but I enjoy the pieces of media she has, which is Hazbin Hotel and Helluva boss, even though I'm not much both in the fandom due to cricitism, dramas, etc.

✦ My hypefixations: horror urban legends, Analog horror, Regretevator, Walten files, cartoons, mascot horror games, TADC, Poppy Playtime, Security Breach, Dandy's World, Cookie Run Kingdom, imaginary friend Asylum, TAWOG, making ocs, drawing, anything pastel and soft colors, chocolate desserts, vintage aeshestics, ryousangata Otaku, weirdcore, dreamcore, kidcore.

✦ Non interests: Pedophiles, zoophiles, racism, mockery, sarcasm, proshippers, my least favorite ships, mean people, vegetables, fake friends, NSFW, problematic people, Rated X movies, snuff films, romanticizing S/A and toxic relationship, brainrot terms, content farms, Elsagate content, fetishes content.

Social media: check it on my Strawpage :>

My romantic f/os:

♡ Leviathan (Lovesart23 version)

♡ Uriel (Lovesart23 Version)

♡ Roquefort (Overhaul Vox Hotel redemption by Lovesart23)

♡ King Dice (Cuphead Show)

♡ Mr Puzzle (SMG4)

♡ Affogato Cookie (Cookie Run Kingdom)

♡ Kester (Zipped up)

♡ Vox (Hazbin Hotel)

♡ Harley Sawyer (Poppy Playtime)

♡ Bill Cipher (Gravity Falls)

♡ Sunny Songbird (Welcome Home)

♡ Gabriel Magne (Hazbin Version by @APieceOfHeaven)

♡ Henry Hotline (Finding Frankie)

♡ Polo (Imaginary Friend Asylum)

♡ Painter (Pressure)

♡ Bezel (Chikn Nuggit)

DNI if you're a:

❆ Harley Sawyer x Leith Pierre shipper (includes shipped Harley with one of the workers, it feels icky d: )

❆ Harley Sawyer x The player shipper.

❆ Alastor x Lucifer shipper

❆ King Dice x The Devil shipper.

❆ King Dice x one of the Cuphead Bros shipper.

❆ Alastor x Vox shipper (Includes Radiosilence, I never seen Vox having an one sided crush on Alastor bruh ・-・)

❆ Vox x Valentino shipper.

❆ Affogato cookie x Caramel Arrow Cookie.

♡ Affogato Cookie x Dark Cacao Cookie.

❆ Shadow Milk cookie x Pure Vanilla Cookie.

❆ Shadow Milk cookie x White Lily cookie.

❆ Henry Hotline x Frankie shipper.

❆ Mr Puzzle x Mario shipper.

❆ Mr Puzzle x Meggy shipper.

❆ Mr Puzzle x SMG4 shipper

❆ Roquefort x Alejandro shipper.

❆ Anti ocxcanon & anti Yumeshipping users.

❆ Fetishism, Racism, proshipper users.

!! Seriously DNI if you ship Bill Cipher X Dipper from Gravity Falls !!

[protege-not-protagonist]

Criminal Minds: The Protégé Chapter 2

Ch 2: Tangents

Blurb: After deciding to leave the BAU, Spencer is now a full time professor at the FBI Academy, teaching profiling and criminology. Spencer is struggling to live life without the BAU, but that is to be expected when it has been all he has known for almost 2 decades. The BAU meanwhile, struggled to find someone to fill the genius shaped hole in the team when he left, and they still are struggling. At least, that's how the newest profiler, Agent Grace Matthews feels. Grace is good at what she's good at, it's why the bureau accepted her earlier than most. But how could anyone live up Dr. Reid's legacy? So, when Grace answers a call intended for her desk's previous owner, she jumps at the chance to meet her predecessor and ask him for some advice. Together, they find a kinship… but unfortunately, they also uncover a disturbing pattern in the deaths of inmates and patients the BAU have helped put away.

Masterlist

Previous chapter

Audience: recommened mature audience for depictions of violence and sexual references

TW: murder, prison, criminology

Five years ago: Honolulu women's state penitentiary, Hawaii, April 29th 2017

‘I'm SSA Rossi with the FBI’s Behavioural Analysis Unit. Can I get you to state your name for the record?’

‘Helen Fitzpatrick.’ She answered flatly.

‘And how old are you Helen?’

‘I…I’m um seve-eighteen.’ She then looked up at him again and glanced across at his files. ‘The FBI? You shouldn't be here, they haven't found Jocelyn yet, and even if you had that's only two. Three's the magic number… Why are you here?’

Rossi observed her expression and chose his next words. Obviously, she was mis-speaking on the number of her victims to attempt to get him to draw it out of her. So she could relive it. ‘We are interested in the profile of this case, it has a unique element,’ he began vaguely. Last thing he wanted to do was stoke her ego.

‘You mean the psychopathic, sexual sadist element, traditionally there aren’t really any women who fit that typology…that’s why you’re here, you think I’m the first?’ she stated. Her expression was neutral.

‘Well, Are you?’

‘I don’t know, you're the expert.’ She looked away and began bouncing her leg again.

Rossi didn’t know what to make of it, usually it would mean she was nervous, but something about it seemed off. It seemed like there was more agitation than nervousness. He noted it down.

‘Your lawyer said you were willing to cooperate with anyone other than Kauai PD, so what do you have to tell us Helen?’

‘What do you want to know?’

‘Well, I think I’d like to talk about James Peterson and Christina Yuki, , but we are keen to hear about Jocelyn as well. Where is she Helen?'

‘Mr Peterson?’ A confused expression painted her face, well he assumed it was painted. ‘So there is three?’

‘Your first victim,’ He explained. ‘You did confess to his murder, didn’t you? That is your signature on the statement there isn’t it?’

She frowned. ‘I did confess… Are you sure he was killed first?’ Her tone was questioning, but not in a mocking tone, like he expected from most unsubs. It seemed more puzzled.

‘Does that upset you?’

‘It does, Mr Peterson was my Gym teacher, and he was a nice one. Nice to kids like me, you know? Was he buried like the Christina? Was he not reported missing? It's been eight months?’

He knew this play; it was play for attention. She was trying to get details relayed back to her, looking for a sense of accomplishment. He gave her the bare minimum. ‘He was found near a campsite about a month after you went in here.’

‘Good, good,’ she nodded absently. ‘He wasn’t hidden for too long. Eight months is a long time, I can't imagine how Jocelyn's family feel.’ She slouched down to lay her head on the table.

Was this kid for real? It irked him. Usually, those kinds of words would be a gloat, a taunt. But the way she spoke and her tone seemed genuine. But then there was the body language. It swung between disinterest and hyper attentiveness. Her eyes were unfocused, like she was out of it, yet trying to stay focused. He made his notes and continued the interview.

‘If you wanted them to be found, why'd you go to so much effort to bury them so well. Why do you do it? Burying victims is unusual. How do you choose your locations?'

Helen looked up at him briefly and began to laugh, letting her head slump on the table. He barely heard her mumble, 'Even he thinks they're buried well.'

Now he was pissed off, and he wasn’t in the mood to try hide it. 'I don't see what's funny Helen.'

She stopped and sat up straight, ‘If I help you find Jocelyn’s body, will you let me transfer to federal prison?’ she asked suddenly, perking up.

Rossi shook his head in disbelief and scoffed.

‘Sure, we can talk with the DA, but it will be difficult considering you’ve already been sentenced-‘

‘No, it’s not. You guys make deals all the time,’ she sat forward, determined now. ‘I know you do, I’ve read your books Agent Rossi.’

‘Is there a reason you are trying this now, Helen?’

‘I've been weighing options, do I drag my family to court, put them and my neighbours on a stand for the chance of pleading insanity and getting put in a mental facility where they try to treat me, or stay with the lifers here and get worse. Or now with you here, do I cut a deal, and try to get into Federal Prison, where I can sleep with both my eyes closed and get a decent doctor to help me.’

‘So let me get this straight, you don’t want to put your family through a retrial, you know you need help, and you hope they find your victims? Is that right?’ he asked with a sarcastic chuckle, ‘See that’s empathy Helen, but you don’t have that, do you? You brutally tortured, killed and assaulted two women and a man-’

Helen cut him off, ‘Assaulted then killed, there was no necro-wait, wait Mr Peterson was assaulted too?’ She frowned.

He ignored her. Mr Peterson hadn’t been sexually assaulted. If the police’s profile was right, if she was a sexual sadist, she was trying to get him to talk more details of the case, reliving the event. But she wasn’t enjoying the details that were relayed to her, she wasn’t toying with him like she should be. And that was not even taking into account that right then, she seemed to display that she had an understanding of empathy and morals, not behaviour congruent to someone with extreme Anti-Social Personality Disorder. If the profile was wrong… which he was suspecting it was with every second he spent in this room. He needed to find out how wrong they were.

He continued, ‘Then you load them in your truck, and go out into the rainforest and you bury them deep, and mark their graves, which shows remorse-’

‘Does it?’ She scoffed, ‘Does it Agent Rossi? You aren’t as smart as I thought you were, psychopaths don’t feel remorse, neither do sexual sadists. Or is that why you're here? The profile doesn’t add up? Look’s like someone’s made a mistake.’ She snickered.

---------

Quantico, FBI Academy VA Thursday July 2023 11:58 am

The walk over to the coffee van was interspersed with a bit of small talk. He asked how his colleagues were going. As far as he knew, everyone was still there and Garcia had reluctantly returned. He had always stayed in touch with Garcia. He also often saw JJ and the boys. Occasionally he would catch up with Emily and they would see a foreign film together. The other members he would admit, he hadn’t seen this year. Rossi had dropped off the radar after Crystal passed away. Tara had been busy with life. He knew Simmons had returned to the BAU after their special assignment. Luke had been busy as well from what he could gather.

From what he heard, the team had only recently been put back together. What Agent Matthews told him confirmed that. With Deputy Director Bailey now, sadly, out of the picture, the team had been restored as well as most of its resources. After the Sicarius case had been wrapped up last year, and Spencer had tendered his resignation, the BAU had a period of trialling different candidates for the position. Each potential team member was put on a roster and given cases to consult on so they could be assessed.

Grace had been vaguely been involved with the BAU earlier that year because she had been a lead investigator on the forensic team that worked the Sicarius case. She also told him she had known Rossi from before she even studied at the academy. Her work had caught Prentiss’ attention. But Rossi had been the one to write her a letter of recommendation and convince Grace to put her name forward as a candidate. After three probationary cases, Prentiss had chosen her. She had officially been with the BAU for eight months now.

Matthews explained she initially had trouble becoming as familiar with the team, because they were already quite close with each other and she was now the youngest member by a significant margin. But she said everyone had been welcoming. Garcia and her in particular got on well, and had recently gone to a fantasy novel convention together.

Unintentionally, she seemed to have become the ‘office baby.’ She was adamant that she didn’t mind. She said it felt oddly comforting to have someone watching out for her. Spencer tried not to profile what that meant about her psyche.

She asked him how he was finding teaching. He loved it. He missed his team, and he missed the feeling that came when he knew they made an arrest. But there was just something about the special assignment with Simmons that made him question everything. And it wasn’t some traumatic incident. It wasn’t some new godforsaken horror that had finally been enough for him. It was just living with Matt, for four months. Watching him call his family every chance he got and helping him film videos of him singing happy birthday to his kids. It was eating take out in hotel rooms and Simmons only ever talking about his family and his life and then him, only being able to reply with statistics, and fun facts.

And Spencer had always known it. He’d seen everyone around him have a life outside of work. He used to think he did. But after months with Simmons, he realised he didn’t, not really.

Spencer had tried to go back and find a balance, that is why tried part time in 2020 originally. But the BAU wasn’t something he could just give half his time to. It demanded all of him. And when he realised that one year, one week and two days ago, he decided to leave. He knew if he stayed, he’d keep putting everything into it, he’d never settle down, never find someone, never have kids. Derrek had been right all those years ago, the job wears people down. And if anything showed just how much the job had gotten to him, it was his interaction with Matthews this morning.

Spencer could never walk the streets and see just people. He saw suspects, and unknown subjects. He watched from the bench as Agent Matthews ordered their coffee and muffins. He didn’t want to, but he saw how much he had changed in his almost two decades of the job. In her smile, her braids, and her soft cardigan, he saw himself on his 24th birthday, in that stupid birthday cake hat, trying to blow out trick candles in 2006. How long it would take until she didn’t smile when she ordered coffee? How long until she ran from inquisitive ex-students in the hallway? How long until she couldn’t recognise herself in her old ID photos?

She sat down and pulled a few files from her messenger bag. No wonder she had clutched it so tightly, she was not supposed to take files without permission.

‘Don't worry these are abridged copies, I print them for readability and annotations, but I don’t like having photos out where people can see them,' she explained, seeming to eerily read his mind. She placed them on her lap keeping them closed and face down.

‘So… I guess I've wanted to meet you for a while now because,’ She fidgeted with her hands, ‘Well, there is no easy way to say this, but it feels like my colleagues expect me to replace you and I'm struggling to live up to the expectations.’

‘How do you mean?’ he frowned.

‘I know it’s been a year since you left fully, life goes on you know, they managed without you, managed without me. But when I joined, the first case I had, the one I consulted on, I was brought in because I was an expert. I was at my most knowledgeable and confident. I mean, not that I’m not good at profiling, but I guess I did something in that first case, when I was at my best, that made them think I was like you, you know a genius, good at everything. And they ask me things that I don’t know how to do, or expect me to know things. And they never say it, but there is always a disappointed look in people’s eyes when I tell them I don’t know. I don't know statistics, or how many people live in a certain city. It’s a big hole to fill, and I trying to work out how big. What were you especially good at? How can I be what the team needs me to be? How do I be like you?’

He just stared at her. What was he supposed to say to that?

‘Agent Matthews, I’m sorry to tell you, I don’t know the answer, other than you can’t be me, just like I can’t be you.’

She quietly chuckled to herself at that. ‘Finally, something you don’t know.’

He smiled. At least she was good humoured about it.

‘What are you an expert in, if you don’t mind me asking?’

‘My BA is in Archaeology, with specialisation in forensics and sociology. I worked two and half years in forensics for CASMIRC before the BAU. My thing is overkill, mutilation, Unusual or improvised weapons, and rituals involving burials.’

He did the math. She would have been 21 when she was admitted to the bureau? Probably 20 when admitted into the academy. She had already been an agent by the time she had been taking his classes. So it had to be extracurricular study, or specialisation then. He doubted his colleagues were as disappointed as she thought they were.

'Well, Agent Matthews, it sounds like you were picked because you were the best candidate for the job. Have you talked to Emily about it, is she still the Section chief?’

‘Yeah I have, she told me she is happy with my performance, but that doesn’t change any unspoken expectations. I feel like I’m some Spirit of Halloween's off-brand costume version. I thought it wouldn’t hurt to talk to the legend himself.’

‘Legend?’

She laughed, ‘Umm, yeah, you're a pretty big deal in the bureau, don’t let it go to your head though, Alvez said you don't need to have any more titles.’

‘Sounds like him,’ he chuckled. ‘Well, when I was in the field, I often would do detailed geographic profiles. I actually did one of my thesis on them. Is that something they ask you to do?’

‘Yes!’ she exclaimed, ‘Exactly! When Simmons isn’t there, I would work one up… nevermind that I had to teach myself how to do it the first time cause everyone assumed I knew how and left me alone at this police station in the middle of nowhere… but every time I do one, Prentis or Rossi will come back and ask me something like, “can you pinpoint all the homes built in 1973, with left-handed children under 9?” Like could you do that? I am crazy for saying no?’

He smirked at her over-dramatics, ‘Well not on my own, that is where I would ask Garcia to help with the building ages, but the handedness of someone is something you have to observe in person so I imagine that would be difficult. But I’m assuming you're being hyperbolic to illustrate a point.’

‘Maybe just a little,’ she snorted.

Grace’s name was called out and he got up to get their order. He glanced at her drink she had gotten for herself and handed it to her along with her muffin. It was bright green and milky. Matcha perhaps? She did say she preferred tea.

‘What you would include in your geographic profiles? What would you say is your standard set of facts you know about a place when you get there?’

He thought about it for a moment, he never considered that his profiles had been extra detailed, but he supposed, compared to what was taught at the academy, they were significantly more detailed.

‘Well, as well as the points you used to generate your comfort zone, like the victims' homes, kill sites, disposal sites and abduction points, I would include points of interest like public places; parks, churches, lakes, malls, and also get to learn the demographics of an area. Essentially, when you do a geographic profile, as well as a comfort zone, you also want to know how the average person in that zone lives their life and what would stick out as odd, who would fit in and who wouldn’t, that helps shape who a likely unsub is. You want to know where they shop, where they go for fun, where they would work, where they would spend their free time. And it's going to change everywhere you go, no two places are the same.’

‘And you would just know that stuff off the top of your head?’ She asked, taking a sip of her drink.

‘Sometimes, but I’m me. As for statistics and facts, you only really need to learn statistics related to demographics and facts about a place if they are what make it unique. Like if it’s a tourist town, it might be worthwhile knowing where most of the visitors come from, then, if tourists are involved you might be able to predict if state lines are being crossed. Industries are important too, knowing what a town’s main industry is and being familiar with it can really help when things seem to be motivated by money. But I think the broader your knowledge the better, but you seem to have that covered. And you’re young, you’ve got time to learn, and you have Garcia to help you, it’s okay to ask her to look up things like demographics, it's a few clicks away for her and she’s always happy to help.’

He took a sip of his coffee and suddenly felt struck with a sense of déjà vu, except it was now him telling someone they were still young.

‘Believe it or not, Agent Matthews I don’t know everything… see before I read your term paper I never knew about the Leonski case. I’m sure you’ve got other things that I don’t know stored in there. How did you know about that case by the way? It’s not exactly one that comes up on the first google results page for serial killers?’

‘You know how to use google? Could have sworn you told me you didn’t know how to use your email calendar earlier,’ she joked.

He shrugged, ‘It’s old age.’ They both grinned at each other.

Matthews took another sip before she answered, ‘I had to do this history essay in high school on America's involvement in World War Two. I focused on America as an occupying force during and after the war, cause everyone always chooses Pearl Harbour, Atomic Bombs or the Battle of the Coral Sea. I wanted to know more about a footnote in the textbook, it said something like; it’s often the case that crime rates sky rocket during war periods, and soldiers on leave are a high proportion of violent offenders. I always found that interesting, the power and status that comes with being a soldier during war times and what the rationalisation of, “Oh well I could die soon, doesn’t matter” does to a person’s moral compass.

'It was an interesting rabbit hole. Like, did you know that there was a two-day riot in one of Australia’s state capitals, Brisbane in 1942? One Australian soldier was killed and hundreds of citizens and servicemen on both sides were wounded. The exact details of the event are vague. The riot was censored heavily in the press, especially censored from the US by General MacArthur. There were many reasons tensions were so high between Australians and the US army, but it was largely due to the publicity of the Leonski case that same month, even though those murders happened in a completely different city and state… I mean I could talk all day about it but I'm getting a bit off topic… Sorry.’ She apologised and looked down at the files on her lap.

‘No, no, that’s fascinating. I take it you like history?’ He smiled. She was obviously very passionate about it. He was beginning to see what she meant when she said it felt like the team compared her to him. It was no secret he loved to go on a tangent.

She perked up again, ‘Love it. Ancient is my favourite. And I will be controversial and say Dark Ages-’

‘Oooh bold of you,’ He mocked a wince.

She laughed, both finding humour that only those knowledgeable in the field would understand.

‘Look I know scholars will get up in arms about how absence of written sources and excessive violence doesn't mean people weren't enlightened, but until they can come up with a better name for it other than pre-medieval or post iron age, I will just say Dark Ages. I mean it started with a massive volcanic eruption in the 6th century that plunged Europe into a mini ice-age and literally blocked out the sun. The whole period is defined by raiding and “migration” that occurred because of resource shortages. Dark Ages is a fitting term, and I will die on that hill. Oh actually, speaking of dying on hills, I heard you did a symposium on Medieval Violence and Criminology. Are you going to teach that content again?’

He finished his mouthful of muffin and thought about how to tell her it wasn’t the most in demand topic. If it ever did happen again, it was not going to be anytime soon.

‘If there's an interest in it, maybe but, I can send you a copy of my notes if you want?’ He frowned when her face fell a little.

‘Yeah, okay… sounds good.’ She glanced at the file on her lap and shifted in her seat. ‘I uh, should move on to—I actually have a reason other than personal curiosity to be here, Dr. Reid. I mentioned I had some news and um, well, this is where the pleasantries end I’m afraid…’ she passed him a file labelled;

‘#20061104WL: NATHAN HARRIS’

It was a case he remembered very well, from a long time ago. Nathan was the young sexual sadist that had approached him at the metro station asking for help. They had stopped him from killing anyone, including himself. He was institutionalised and put on their watch list. But he had kept checking in on Nathan occasionally. It was one of those cases that just impacted him deeper than others. He had been the one that saved his life. Hesitantly, he took the file she offered him and sighed as he opened it.

Spencer’s brows furrowed in confusion. The typeset was strange. The font had been changed to Comic Sans. Then there were the words themselves; they had random parts of them bolded in groups of three or four letters. She would have to have some program on her computers that would format the files this way. He scanned the pages of her file, it was difficult for him to read, he couldn't get over the partly bolded words, he kept trying to find a pattern in it, like it was a code. What did it mean?

The answer came to him as he pieced the odd format with every term paper Grace had written and exam short answers she typed. He saw the way her handwritten notes in the margins slanted one way, then the other on a new line. He saw it in the random capitalisation in her letters. She had a habit of starting a sentence small and ending it large and sprawled out. No wonder she didn't seem too enthused by reading his paper and would rather go to a seminar.

‘You have dyslexia?’ He stated more than asked.

Her mouth fell open and she looked at the file in his hand in panic, ‘Oh no, I grabbed the wrong copy.’

‘It’s alright, I’ve memorised this anyway.’ He reassured her. Spencer cast his gaze over her again and saw her demeanour had changed. He recognised it immediately. ‘I don’t see why your ashamed of it, Dyslexia is very common, one in ten people have it-’

‘Um, it’s not really Dyslexia, please don’t tell anyone… only Rossi and Garcia know,’ she cut him off. ‘Dyslexia is when you have trouble recognising and connecting symbols to meanings and phonetic sounds. Mine is actually the opposite, it’s Hyperlexia…’ That puzzled him, he had Hyperlexia too, it’s what allowed him to read so fast. ‘...But I have ADHD, so there are too many connections being made. When I read, my brain processes physical shapes of words, meanings, familiar particles, tries to predict what should be there, and jumps ahead to other words on a page. And all that happens quicker than I can comprehend the sentence. I have to really focus and concentrate.

‘It’s workable, but I take a little longer than the average person to read. Makes it really difficult to proofread, or read aloud and I'm hopeless with numbers and letters not arranged into words or mixed together… number plates kill me.’ She pointed to the file, ‘This is a technique called bionic reading, it essentially allows me to read with my unconscious mind. By only focusing on the bolded letters, it halves the input and gets my brain working on just filling in the blanks rather than anything else.’

He tried to read the file again bearing that in mind, not thinking too hard about the placement of the bolded letters. Spencer nearly fell off the bench. He finished it before even realised he read it.

‘Oh my God.’

‘I know right? Look at you go speed demon. But I can only read like this from my device. And it's not like they format reports like this or… books. Which is a shame, I love stories. I’d get through so many more if reading a digital copy felt as good as reading a physical book.’

‘So wait, you’re telling me you didn't have this strategy to help you while you studied here? Or at school?’

‘No, I only heard of bionic reading a few months ago. Garcia helped me make this program and app.’ She shrugged.

‘That must of been very difficult, and learning to read in the first place would have been-’

‘It's embarrassing, I was barely literate before 4th grade. But one day it clicked when I figured out a system. It's never clicked with numbers though.’

He stared at her, ‘Why didn't you ask for special consideration for your studies?’

She shrugged, ‘I didn’t know I needed it, I was only diagnosed with ADHD recently. Besides, I don't want it. If I can do this well without it… it's worth more, you know?’

With that one sentence Spencer could understand her far deeper than she probably realised. He hated that he profiled her so easily without even meaning to. It was the unspoken rule among profilers; don’t profile each other, and if you did; don’t say anything about it.

Matthews would have struggled academically her whole life, and yet she didn’t seem to realise just how intelligent and adaptive she had been her whole life to make it to where she was without a diagnosis and strategies. If suddenly everyone treated her differently, marked her assignments easier, allowed her extended deadlines, higher grades would not have felt like an accomplishment. Grace would see it as demeaning, an insult. And from her reaction to that suggestion, he could tell Grace felt she had something to prove and felt that her struggles were her own fault. And pair that with feeling inadequate in her position compared to him, meant all her life; she had probably felt second best. If that feeling had been constant enough to affect her like this, it was probably a person she was constantly compared to. A person constantly around, a person she could not distance herself from, which meant it was family; a sibling. Perhaps an older sibling who always did better at school than she did, and she could never figure out why, until recently.

‘I can understand that,’ he nodded.

‘Anyway, the unfortunate part of this meeting. Sorry, I don’t usually do this bit. See, I sit at your old desk in the bullpen and I have your old desk phone extension. Sometimes I get calls that are meant for you. Yesterday, I got a call from Morton Psychiatric Hospital-' He glanced back down at Nathan’s file in his hand. He already knew what she was going to say. Nathan was out. He was killing.

His throat tightened. Matthews' eyes darted everywhere but him as she clasped her hands tightly together. She swallowed before she began again, ‘-Dr Reid, I’m sorry to say, Nathan Harris died Tuesday night. I told them I would inform you.’

He hadn’t expected that. Spencer was glad to be wrong, but he sat in shock. Nathan was dead?

Next chapter

NOTES: I don't know if this should be marked as mature cause it has been ages since I posted a fic on tumblr, have no idea how it's going to handle a criminal minds fic. But oh well. ALSO GRACE AND REID ARE NOT GOING TO BE THE ROMANTIC INTEREST FOR EACH OTHER. IN THE TAGS I TRIED TO MAKE THAT CLEAR BUT I KNOW SOME PEOPLE DON'T READ THEM…. but don't worry I have someone else in mind to pair Spencer with, and Grace might go a bit "Operation parent trap" style to get them together. Also Grace will get a love interest to… Hopefully though she won't be too much like Reid and end up with her very own Graeve. With this fic, I think I'll put specific trigger warnings a the start of each chapter because I plan to have sort of breather chapter in between cases and each case will have a variety of different stuff depending on the unsub. These first few chapters are intended as a bit of fluff and an introduction to Grace. if you love it leave a comment, like reblog question, whatever, it is much appreciated and it really motivates me

[syntia13treeman]

Case files 09.01

what I think happened in:

Case 09.01, the case of "Dice of Fate" or "Mr. Die and a very bad, horrible, no good roll."

Well well well. If it isn't an honest, good old fashioned statement. Fancy seeing it here. Not much left to puzzle out, we have it all laid out very nicely. The Dice make a comeback. When we've seen them last in nineteenth century, they were sitting pretty in the sack of the Gentleman (the mystery man in the woods, quite preoccupied with luck).

By nineteen-nineties they somehow came to be in possession of a young man named Gary. (Double meaning intended). As is their nature, the dice brought Gary luck when rolled. Good luck with high rolls, bad luck with low rolls.

Gary eventually decided that bouts of good luck were not worth the inevitable dive into misfortunes, which varied from leaky pipes to broken legs. Finding himself incapable of simply NOT rolling, he fell back on time-honoured tradition of making his problem somebody else's problem.

Somebody else, we'll call him SG (short for Statement Giver), has recently been dumped by his boyfriend Carl (CaaAAAaaarl! That hurts people!) and really needed something to cheer him up. So when an old high-school friend called to invite him over for a game night, he made his way to Gary's place in West Didsbury, where he got tricked into taking over as the Dice Bearer. The dice changed hands and SG felt it as the ownership transferred to him.

SG was much smarter about rolling that Gary had been. Just like a certain violinist before him, he figured out that he needn't be the one to pay the price for the fortune his cursed object brought him. And he figured out the system (or so he thought. He should have remembered that the House always wins, in the end). He started passing the bad-luck-rolls to random strangers on the street.

After a time, he started to also let strangers roll high. And then… well, for someone who had the gall to talk shit about D&D, SG turned out to be SUCH a nerd himself. He assembled a whole-ass Grim Dicer costume, grew a goatee, he was even doing the voice! Go you, Mr. Totally-not-a-theatre-kid! Rock that Dice King persona!

He was well on his way to becoming a full blown urban cryptid, when alas, he went too far. By chance (chance?) he run into Gary and made him (made him?) roll one last time. It was the lowest roll yet. Snake eyes. 1+1. You couldn't go lower if you tried.

It seems that the Dice did not appreciate being disposed of, and they disposed of the previous Bearer in return, with extreme prejudice, via runaway truck to the face.

After that, SG lost his nerve and tried to get rid of the Dice which… Buddy. You've just seen how that ends. What did you think would happen?

SG thought he was being smart. He gave the Dice to Magnus Institute, who, as paranormal research facility (or whatever they were known as), were bound to accept them and presumably able to handle them safely.

Too bad he believed that rolling was a matter of choice*. Too bad the Dice were still within reach when the urge hit. Too bad he died right there, at the statement giving table. RIP, statement giver (????-14.10.1998). You could have been great.

So that's that. What more to say? Let's see.

I feel quite confident in saying that SG was actively becoming a supernatural creature. That feeling of increasing disconnect from the world was not just in his head. And the rolls that he took for himself, that kept getting more and more abstract, until he couldn't tell what changed, just that something did? It was you, SG. You were changing. Such a damn shame your rise to power was cut short by your own folly.

I'm equally confident that he was unwittingly creating a brand new urban legend. I bet that at the time there were people in Manchester who'd talk in hushed whisper (or at high volume in a crowded bar) about the Grim Gambler, the Dice Devil, the Lord Luck, the Horrid Hatman. (Coincidentally, for no reason whatsoever I need somebody to draw SG in full Mr. Die costume with Alex J. Newall's face). Some would warn against touching his dice, others would swear up and down that he'd bring luck and prosperity. (Imagine the discourse at cryptid message boards!). I wonder if the legend still lives, even if SG doesn't.

*About rolling the dice, even knowing the odds… It sure as hell wasn't free choice, no sir. What was it then, compulsion, or addiction? Was that need to see the dice clutter over one's future coming from without, or within? Both options are equally appealing to me, to be honest.

The statement and the Dice were given to MI in October 1998. This means two things: a) Arguably, events surrounding death of SG could have been one of the 'weird stuff' that Sam saw with no context as a child, and: b) The Institute burned down little over a year later. Do you think somebody was rolling the Dice bit too much?

'Recommend referral to Catalytics for Enrichment Applicability Assessment'. To me it sounds like: "hey, Catalytics, check if we can use this thing for enrichment." And I'm having a bad thought. They were studying kids, Sam among them, for some purpose, almost certainly related to supernatural stuff. Did they give the kids cursed artefacts to play with, to boost development of their otherworldly skills/trait/whatever? Because if so, so help me… 🔪🔪🔪🔥🔥🔥

Lastly, for completion's sake: viability as subject (none), agent (low), catalyst (medium). I've no idea nor theories what these are about, I'm just leaving them here for future reference.

[mage-ical-character-person]

Puzzles is really good at doing an escapism in a locked room, he can literally escape into his own TV head so could last a good while maybe. barring any “treatments”. But still. Yeah. I don’t think he’ll literally explode as much though. The error message mentions “newly installed hardware or software” as something that could be causing/exacerbating problems. And he was hooked up to the engine room and more dismembered than usual so that might have been part of the problem.

The goop was indeed there though and it does seem to correlate to mental/emotional state

ALSO IMAGERY TIME AGAIN.

The goop is always filled with and associated with eyes. The emphasis on vision is certainly. A thing. And this thing, whatever it is, does seem to thrive within those who want eyes on them, who crave that validation. Not just Puzzles and Four, but Wren, too.

Wren was not always Like That, like his first appearance was a genuinely a sweet scene and it’s obvious why Meggy looked up to him so much

Also waaahg… look at lil Meggy. That beanie is way too big for her tiny baby squid head… she is so tiny tiny baby squid baby…

And, back on topic, Three got corrupted by the IGBP goop in like a few minutes.

This is a thing that happened and I feel like it should be addressed. There didn’t even touch the keyboard. But he is very much a guy who craves that validation. The fact that this happened to him so fast, too. Peach was down there for at least a month or so before she became an eldritch horror.

So either this corruption can like… travel across/somehow utilize the cosmic link between Three and Four, or Three is just THAT insecure.

Also, when under the effects of The Goop, Four and Three’s pupils disappear. Many of Puzzles’ expressions also lack pupils, including his sort of “default” one

The Mr Puzzles lack of ambition thing. It’s weird to think about that because Puzzles as we know him now is so ambitious. But you’re right, it does seem like he just… gave up, as a kid. Something must have reached a tipping point, but in order for the goo stuff to sorta take root it seems like there has to already be that kind of obsession there.

and I do think he genuinely did cut off his face and do other self mutilations besides just letting this stuff become part of him (if that is indeed the case)

looks like the results of cutting one’s face off to me.

in regards to Four… there are some stains on his gloves in that scene that look… distressingly similar to the way they showed blood in Western Spaghetti. And along with that horrible cracking squelching noise when he’s trying to pull himself free… maybe you’re on to something. But I hope not

as for the portal thing. Pulling people into his head is a thing Puzzles is established to be capable of. Usually it’s for his parodies but I can see how this may be an extension of that power. Also there’s this weird glowing thing in the background of the scene before he loses Leggy.

As for why child Puzzles is just trapped in Puzzles’ head while Puzzles considers that part of him dead? Trauma, probably. Also. Puzzles is shown refusing updates with the error message. Could be kid Puzzles is essentially a file in his systems he never bothered to check or couldn’t find. Caroline-GLaDOS style. Would be cool (ough. “The surge of emotion that shot through me when I saved your life taught me an even more valuable lesson: where Caroline lives in my brain” “Caroline deleted” <- robot that is probably bluffing about deleting Caroline. )

and the last thing. Yeah. Puzzles is harmless most of the time, because his power relies on outside factors, such as his ratings. Without something external to draw power from, he’s just some guy. And he knows that enough to not try anything, I guess.

Like. That scene in the Puzzlevision movie, where Mario punches him in the face and he runs away but overexerts himself using his powers trying to get outta there.

that’s enough to leave him limping. He just collapses when he gets “home”

without his 5 stars or some other outside power source, he’s frankly pathetic. I get the sense he is all too aware of that.

Let’s talk about this. Because there is so much.

“A problem has been detected and Mr Puzzles has been shut down to prevent damage to himself PUZZLEVISION.EXE Check to make sure any new show or movie is properly installed. If this is a new installation :It’s not: ask your hardware or software manufacturer for any updates you might need :I don’t need any: If problems continue, disable or remove any newly installed hardware or software. Disable MiPU (as in Mister PUzzles? could also say NPU) memory options such as Unused ???? (would make sense to say shows but the first letter looks more like a D. Dreams, maybe?) or Movies. If you need to use safe mode :I don’t: to remove or disable components, restart yourself, press :nuhuh: to select Advanced Startup Options, and then select Safe Mode. :NO: TECHNICAL INFORMATION

The last line is just gibberish to me but it might mean something to someone.

But this man. This stubborn TV man. Is backtalking his own “Fatal Error” screen. No self preservation. It says you need to stop to prevent damage to yourself, Puzzles!

But also. I have Questions.

Who wrote this? Who are the software and hardware manufacturers in question? I always sort of assumed Puzzles cobbled his TV man body together himself. But it wouldn’t make sense for an error screen to say he needs to contact the manufacturer if HE is the manufacturer. Also Puzzlevision systems are getting updates that Puzzles is actively refusing. Claiming “I don’t need any”. Who’s making these updates to Mr Puzzles that he doesn’t want?

What is Safe Mode? Why is Puzzles so incredibly opposed to it? Insisting he doesn’t need it and replacing a word in the error message with nuh uh and then the capslock “NO”

He’s so?? I am wondering. To what degree is Puzzles in control? Like yeah, he resists doing any of the things the error message wants him to do, but someone is trying to make him do those things using the systems of his own body. So…

I mean, especially considering. Um… The Puppet Imagery. That just came out of nowhere.

Are the manufacturers of his body the ones that manufactured the demon keyboard as well? Did he fall for the same adware? MORE PARALLELS TO SMG4??? Is this some kind of eldritch Multi-Level Marketing? Someone recruited Puzzles and then Puzzles tried to recruit SMG4 but couldn’t (yet? Might still be trying to do that) and instead recruited Wren and Marty who tried to recruit Meggy and Mario?

Also, I mean, after the fatal error is when we get

So.

[oh-for-fic-sake]

Their Alright... For A Boomer

Masterlist

Summary: Being a girl with a larger chest always got you attention, maybe having your nipples pierced to try and fell more confident handt been the best idea, but how can you regret it when your latest client; the sexy Mr Cavill  was ogling them but could this end up being more then just that one time you were eyed by a hot celebrity?

Warnings: Suggestive, No Smut, Fluffy? Cute and funny, Swearing

A/N: this was a request from @fanficlover91​ i hope you like this hun, i tried to keep it hot but sweet and respectful? Which was a struggle but i hope i got the vibe you wanted. And as always i hope you all enjoy.

Taglist: In Reblogs.

You blushed as you looked down the lense at your model. He smirked sweeping his eyes over you non to subtly. You could feel the blues penetrating you with a hot stare. The was the distinctive fast clicks on you camera snapping a burst of shots managing to capture his smirking face and eyes sweeping over your form appreciatively.

You stood tall and smiled pulling away double checking the shoots. You bit your lip. Fucking hell this was both the best and worst job you had. Henry Cavill was the most enticing male you'd ever had the pleasure to photograph. He didn't even have a good side, every side was good! There wasn't an unflattering angle on the man!

"And that's a wrap? I think we have everything we need Mr Cavill" you said professionally making to move away from him and begin to swap sd cards and label them before packing away. Henry gawfed and rose quickly panicked almost.

"I- err no! Wait I was... Well hoping that I could have some more done?" he said chaseing you across the small studio you could hear his agent Leah scoff from the side lines. You frowned and looked to her nervously. The woman had been watching and tutting, scoffing and clicking her tongue through the whole session. It actually made you nervous, wasn't she pleased with the shoot? You were worried, being freelance this was your first time doing a celebrity shoot for a magazine but the usual photographer was in hospital having a stroke a few days prior and you were the only free photographer in the agency that was close enough to take the job. Sure you wasn't well known but still it was a little disheartening to have someone seemingly unimpressed with your work.

But it was when you eyed her you saw she wasn't giving you the evil eye. Her frown was directed at henry, a scolding look you'd give a misbehaving child. You frowned a little puzzled, but shook it off in favour of looking to Henry. Your actual client.

"More? I... I? Thought the piece only needed a few to choose from? They were very ah... How do I put it? Thorough? With the brief" you explained hoping Leah would step in and clarify just what was going on. Because you didn't have a clue.

"I yes but- I'd love to top up my portfolio? You know? I err yeah have a few changes going on and... I mean a few greys and such... Just want to update it a tad... I'll pay obviously- I'd pay anything for more time please?" he pleaded watching you closely eyes wide and bright full of hope.

"I... Err" you shifted swapping your camera from one hand to the other and craned your head around the man trying to spy his agent. But you had no hope of peeking around this gargantuan man. Just like with the camera he demanded your full attention.

"And for Instagram and stuff! There's only so much I can do in a selfie... I'd even recommend you- advertise your work!" he quickly added sounding desperate now. It would help you out if you did have a few shots of him for in your own catalogue. It shouldn't matter but having a celeb under your belt was actually a good thing. It meant you'd acted professionally and been good to work with.

"I suppose so, I do have a few extra sd's here... Tell you what I'll do another shoot for you as long as I can pick a few to put in my portfolio? Then we both update our files?" you nodded to him speaking slowly. He grinned and relaxed nodding quickly pleased with himself for wrangling more shots. You'd never know he was just glad to has more time with you.

"Oh yes absolutly! That's fine here should we get started now or?" he asked biting his lip trying not to stare at you for too long. But it was hard you were fucking stunning!

"Oh yeah sure iv got time, let me just sort these out and set up, need to switch, you've tired my poor camera" you said with a grin trying to ignore the man as he beamed at you looking excited nodding enthusiastically. You backed up and spun around trying not to blush as you felt henry gazing openly at you.

"Right well if the magazine ones are done I will be off then" Leah called packing up her bag with a small chuckle to herself. You froze and spun quickly seeing her seemingly abandoning you with Henry.

"Wha- oh you don't have to you can stay-" you tried to reason unsure why, I mean who wouldn't want to be alone with this huge glorious man? Maybe you just didn't trust yourself with him? He had been 'making love' to the camera all afternoon. Smouldering bedroom eyes that was making it hard to focus. You had been getting hot under the collar all day as you kidded yourself he was eyeing you, not the camera or would be readers.

It didn't help that you had caught him oogling your breasts earlier. But you wasn't mad, it was your own fault. It was the Hight of summer and you had on a string vest with a thin bra, that you could clearly see your nipple bars through. You didn't feel uncomfortable or anything, you didn't blame Henry for looking. You cant exactly ignore your tits.. The were pretty large for your frame. You were curvy but they were as one ex put it 'exceptional'. And besides he had looked not touched and he hadn't been a creep about it. In fact he had done a double take and then blushed when he realised he had been caught looking. But as you said you get that with big boobs, you'd had it your entire life, it was actually one of the reasons you'd got them pierced. It helped with your confidence and you convince yourself that they were looking at the bars. Not you per say.  

"Okay aunt Leah I will see you in a few days." henry interrupted you quickly smiling practically ushering the woman out the door. He moved fast ever picking the womans phone and juice bottle to help her leave quicker.

"Yes, behave Henry I'll see you soon" she said with a giggle before calling a thank you and goodbye over her shoulder at you. You swallowed nervously and gave a quick bye as the door clicked behind her and you were left alone with Henry. The man groaned stretching as he spun around a huge grin on his face, making your knees tremble a little. Fuck.

Henry came over and watched you closely as you scribbled the name and date along with the publication name on the sd case label. You tried not to notice as he hovered biting his lip then took off the blazer and threw it on the table beside you drawing your attention as he did grunting a little. The v neck letting the smallest amount of soft looking chest fuzz that had been teasing you all day. He grinned slyly as he caught you eyeing him and crossed his arms over his chest flexing for your benefit. You gasped and quickly looked back to the camera in your hands inserting a new scarf into the new fully charges camera.

"Soo how do you like this kind of work?" henry said casually trying not to seem like a creeper but god damnit he couldn't stop eyeing you. If he had known how sexy you'd be he would have demanded to be doing a bloody swim wear shoot!

"You mean people?" you stuttered trying not to look him in the eye. Not that it helped because the rest of him was just as fucking sexy! You quivered all over desperately trying to remember how to breath, yet didn't want to draw in too deep a breath and make your tits bounce for him and look like a slut. There was a very fine line for a big busted girl, to much wobble will make you look like your trying to get attention.

"I mean celebrities, magazines we were told you mainly do private shoots for events and model portfolios" he offered leaning forward as he leant back on the desk next to you hooking one ankle behind the other. The way he stood placed his crotch in your line of sight as you looked down and worked on setting up the camera. You flushed. Oh god he looked er... Bigger then you'd thought earlier, not that you were looking but... Well you couldn't help notice the package! The man was a fucking serial man spreader! And that thing was huge! With the muscles he was packing he could probably bench press you with his crotch!

"Oh well its different... And you sir popped my celebrity cherry" you froze on the spot as you said that, it had meant to be an ice breaker, a joke but instead had sounded fucking creepy!. You snapped up to him making to apologize as your face flamed mortified but he had thrown his head back laughing. The deep rumble sent chilled down your spine.

"Well I'm honoured to have popped your cherry~" he teased placing a hand over his heart with a cheeky grin making you blush and nod then turned to him with the new camera all set up.

"Soo where do we start?" you said moving on quickly looking up at him trying to forget the whole cherry comment.

"Where ever you want me, i will let you take the reigns command me as you will" he chuckled standing tall once more and looked about the room casually to the various small set ups, different furniture, seats sofas and mini tables dotting the space.

"I... Okay then you said Instagram? How about we start with some facials-FACE SHOTS! Face. Shots. Not facials fuck. Shit" you quickly tried repairing the damage whist cursing yourself wanting nothing more then to be swallowed up by the floor.

"No, no love facials sounded perfect~" he said winking before gliding past you making you stutter and almost choke on your breath. Oh good lord this was a bad idea. You followed as he sat down on a sturdy sofa and looked head on at you and bit his lip once again watching you with a sultry look.

And that was the beginning. You followed him about taking various snaps whislt having small talk. He seemed to be very flirtatious as he spoke, dropping lines and compliments as he made eyes at you. You flushed each time clamming up at his suggestive comments. And rightly or wrongly you flirted back trying to seem cool and suave. But inside you were fangirling unable to belive you were here with this incredibly gorgeous man teasing one another. On a few occasions he even growled as you scampered about him, crouching and taking shots from blow getting some delicious angles that dampened your knickers. Then in between all this he managed to get little tied bits. You'd told him you were on agency freelance and were trying to get into the social media platform as it seemed easier in this day and age rather then to be in fashion photography. You wanted to be commercial not private but no one would really take a chance anymore.

Then you suggested a few shots on the sofa laying back trying to think of something different for your portfolio, maybe a body length shot. He was quick to agree and dived onto the sofa saying he had an idea you swallowed nodding not fully trusting the look in his eyes. But that was forgotten as he relaxed stretching out over the sofa legs crossed and resting on the arm of his hands behind his head and a devilish smirk looking down the lenght of his body. You knelt at his feet trying to get a flattering image of him looking down but cursed as the camera wasn't playing ball. The lense was focusing, this was why you used the other one first, the camera had a few issues and was temperamental.

"What's wrong?" he asked frowning a little at you as you growled pulling the camera away fro your face and began trying to manually focus the lense.

"Oh its.. It wont focus.. It does this sometime, really need to throw it out but.. She was my first I'm sentimental" you said feeling silly as you battled with the camera.

"We all are with our firsts... How about you come closer instead, I really want to see this shot, never done one at this angle.. Out of all my shoots your the first to suggest this~" you froze and looked to him but he just smiled impishly at you. Slowly you rounded the sofa and leant over him positioning the camera at his stomach as he looked right into the lense giving you a definite bedroom eyes, half lidded and burning. Both dreamy and amazingly sexy. It was as if he could see you beyond the lense, as if it wasn't even there!

"You can come closer love, I wont bite, not if you don't want me to~" his voice was low and teasing, luring you in like a siren. You trembled and moved along him but he tutted and moved a hand to your hip and pressed, coaxing you onto the sofa and sat you on him making you straddle him. You gasped squeazing your camera tighter as he moved you easily, warm palms holding you both delicatly and firmly. You could see in his eyes he was weary unsure if he had gone to far but you squeezed him between your thighs and relaxed making him grin up at you getting the message you didn't mind at all. You aimed the lense at him once more and got the shots you wanted.

"Perfect! Mr Cavill" you said actually a little sad that this session was over. It had been nice playing this little cat and mouse game with him. But all good things come to an end.

"Ah now i have a policy love, when a womans on top they can call me henry, among other things~" he said smoothly laughing as you chuckled nervously fiddling with the camera in your hands and shifted over him a little.

"I will try to remember that for next time boomer~" you teased managing to overcome your nerves as you pulled away the camera with a giggle winking at him as he stuttered. For a second you thought you'd gone too far but a quirk to his lips made you relax once more.

"That hurt, that was hurtful" he teased pouting not releasing you from his lap, instead holding you tighter, fingers digging into your sides making you gasp and bit your lip as he pulled you to his crotch and ground into you teasingly.

"I'm so sorry~" you uttered breathless trying to keep yourself together. But this man was something else, like a drug- the devil all fanged smiles and smooth words. God you were fucked, you knew this man could do anything to you and youd thank him for it~

"I doubt that" he cooed and slid his hand higher growing more and more confident. The last few hours of casual flirting had built up his appitite. There was no misconceptions, you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

"Oh yeah?" you said coyly tipping your head to him playing along willing for this to happen, whether it be a one of fuck or something longer. You didnt have any complaints~ this was your body and youd enjoy it with who ever you wanted to!

"Yeah prove it!" he hissed and moved quickly sitting up and swinging around planting his feet on the floor. You yelped as he moved surprizingly fast and managed to keep you in his lap now face to face with you eyes roaming your face settling on your lips.

"And how should i do that" you teased tilting your head skimming your lips with his as you spoke. He groaned and held you tighter making you whine breathlessly willing this to happen. You wanted him and you wont deny yourself the chance.

"Make and old mans day" he said plainly and leant back resting on the back of the sofa, you watched him closely and brought your hands to his shoulders prodding at the neck of the t shirt and drew your fingers down slowly feeling him shiver at the light skimming fingertips.

"Oh really Boomer? And how would i make and old mans day?" you teased once more making him grunt but he quickly caught himself as your fingers smoothed over the teasing curls that peeked over his top. You scratched over them lightly with your nails making him draw a needy breath and chuckled at him. He was sexy and cute~

"By accepting a job offer?" he said before smileing smugly as you paused and frowned. Had you missed something? Was he after a freebee?

"Job offer? Really another shoot?" you snorted suddenly not feeling sexy, more like he was trying to butter you up for some fuck for parts shoots or something. He sighed and began speaking before you could get yourself all twisted. But then again you could have taken his offer wrong.

"Manage my social media. I have many companies and brands reach out to me for endorsements. They want me caught wearing their brands. But I'm to busy most of the time I cant make it to the locations they want. It actually doesn't seem worth it most of the time, with cost of flights and time lost travelling to and from studios itd be easier if I had my own personal photographer that travelled with me its be easy, slip on the clothes and what not take a few snaps and then you touch them up and post them on my social media." he explained watching as it sunk in that he wasnt trying to pull a fast one. Well he was but not trying to fuck you over... Just fuck you... And keep you because you were fantastic and he wants nothing more then to have you around hime as much as possible. In the single dat he had spent working with you, you had enchanted him, not only were you sexy but you were good at your job and easy to work with but also funny and cute and he needed to get to know you.

"Of course its a very big venture and we'd have to have a few dinner and lunch dates to work out all the nitty gritty" he added after a few beats of silence trying to make it clear he was interested... Very interested~ it worked as you fluched and a playfull look donned your face your fingers began stoking his chest hair once more. He relaxed shuddering under the nails as they teased his curls.

"Is this a big ploy to get a date Boomer?" you purred his new nick name making him groan when you squeezed him between your thick thighs once more grinding on him and the considerable bulge below you that twitched.

"No... Maybe is it working?" he said quickly hissing at you shifted in his lap once more, his hands snapping to your hips trying to still you before he came undone in his boxers. You were a very dangerous woman and something told him you knew.

"Well it sounds like an offer I'd be very, very interested in taking further~" you clarified giggling when he swallowed dryly and eyed you surprized that his plan had seemed  to work.

"Good to hear~ so got anything planned after this?" he asked feeling a wave of confidence at the prospect of snagging a date with you. He hadn't meant to sound so eager but... He was eager and that was that.

"Yes" you said with a straight face and got up off of him spinning around heading to the table with your camera bags. You gave him a glance and giggled seeing him still sitting there gobsmacked legs wide open and his crotch that was now definitely bigger then it had been earlier.

"O-oh" he stuttered seemingly unsure how to proceed. You giggled as he fumbled over his words. Then decided to grant him some mercy and began speaking whilst popping out the sd card from the camera labeling it like the previous one.

"You see I had a very cheeky client today who asked for a shoot last mineut. But I wasn't to bothered he was very very sexy even if he was a boomer, but get this out of nowhere gave me a job offer? And we're having dinner- he promised pizza~" you giggled glancing at Henry as he slumped in the seat realising halfway through that you were talking about him. He smoothed his hands over his face and jumped up coming over to you shaking his head.

"You know I'm not actually a boomer?" he quipped folding his arms. You rolled your eyes at him as you packed your stuff away making sure to recheck everything.

"Have you seen your selfies? Your a boomer, boomer" you teased making him scoff but laugh at the name that has now stuck.

"Wait you've seen my selfies? What do you think?" he asked wanting feedback on the silly shots he took. You paused halfway through zipping up your bag and turned facing him fully giving him a thoughtful look then shrugged

"Their alright... For a boomer" you giggled when he preened for a second then his face dropped into a pout when you finished the comment.

"I repeat...That was hurtful" he said covering his heart with a kicked puppy look making you laugh and hoist your bags over your shoulder and make for the door with him hot on your heels.

"Its fine boomer a second date will make up for it I'm sure~" you sniggered at him playfully looking back at him as he followed you out of the door.

"A date for each time you call me boomer? Deal" he quipped walking along side you offering you his arm like a true gentleman unlike the teasing horny little shit he had been all day. Not that you minded either. Gentleman on the streets, freak in the sheets and all that jazz.

"God we may aswell marry now then boomer" he laughed nodding in agreement the banter from the day still in play as you both left the building.

"Seems so, I mean were at ten that's what the kids consider boyfriend girlfreind territory" he anounced with a sigh playing on the 'boomer' joke making you giggle and roll your eyes as he mentioned the tally. Then you frowned and quickly counted your 'boomers' and opened your mouth you correct him, arguing that ten was incorrect.

"I think its nine boomer- ah see what you did their sneaky boomer!" you cried pushing him playfully at his little trick. He roared with laughter and quickly tangled his fingers with yours dragging you back alongside him guiding you down the street towards a place he knew served pizza, he didn't remember but apparantly he promised pizza...

[dislyteacolyte]

DREW - SECRET OF THE EARS

Knock, knock. There’s someone at the door.

Drew: Please come in. Lucas: Um, sorry for interrupting… but I got lost looking for this meeting room.

Drew turns his head gracefully, slightly narrowing his eyes.

Drew: If my memory serves me right, you are… Lucas? The rookie who just graduated from the Union Academy, correct? Lucas: Yes. Drew: The meeting has just begun, please take a seat.

Lucas sticks his tongue out at his colleague, who saved a spot for him, and sits down swiftly.

Drew: Back to what I was saying. Drew: In the past two months, more than ten cases of Miramon going berserk occurred in the neighborhood near the Miracle. No doubt this is thanks to the shadow members, and-- Q: Hey, Lucas, why do you look so nervous? Lucas: Why didn’t you guys tell me the way to this meeting room? That’s not cool! Q: We also forgot the meeting room was in such a stupid place. Lucas: Never mind. The one hosting this meeting… that’s Mr. Drew, right? I’ve heard his name a lot back in the Union Academy. Lucas: I wanted to impress him in this meeting but ended up being late and interrupting a critical analysis… Lucas: Gosh, he must be mad. Q: Don’t worry. Mr. Drew wouldn’t be mad about this type of thing. Lucas: How do you know? Q: Because we all know the “little secret” of that old gentleman.

Q says, smirking. And Drew is still focused on explaining his analysis paying zero attention to their whispers.

Drew: The cases I just showed are only some of the consequences of Miramon going berserk, but they have posed a severe threat to the residents in the Union jurisdiction. Drew: However, please let me be clear, had Union security taken the reports from the nearby residents seriously, they could have controlled the damage to a degree. Q: Look, I think our old gent is pissed this time.

Lucas looks at Q, confused.

Lucas: How do you know that? Lucas: There is not much difference in his expression or tone, and-- Q: Check his ears. Lucas: …Ears? Q: Yes. When his ears turn sideways, becoming the “airplane ears”, he is angry. Q: I think he is not happy with the Union security in our jurisdiction. Drew: …I hope such incidents won’t happen again. Lucas: True, although he remains as graceful as ever, his ears are indeed in a different pose. Lucas: So… does Mr. Drew only expresses* anger with his ears?

*actual text

Q: Of course not. After our… and everyone else’s observation, we worked out some patterns. Q: Usually, his ears point up, which means he’s in a good mood. When he gets shy, they fall onto his head. Q: And when he thinks, they wiggle a little-- see, just like that. Drew: …

Drew’s analysis has just ended, and he is now going through some files. As he reads, his ears wiggle slightly.

Lucas: I see. I never thought there was so much to Mr. Drew’s ears… Lucas: I have learned how to tell his moods!Lucas: Mr. Drew, you wanted to see me? Drew: That’s right, Lucas. Please have a seat. Unfortunately, we won’t be having afternoon tea today.

Drew’s voice sounds elegant as always, but Lucas notices that his ears indicate a terrible mood.

Lucas: (He seems very angry, could it be because of the mission last time?) Lucas: Mr. Drew, I have learned from my mistakes from the last mission. I promise it won’t happen again! Drew: Mistakes are inevitable for new starters. Just be more careful in the future. Lucas: (The ears remain the same… wasn’t that what he was about to say?) Lucas: I’ll also go to the music festival less often and spend more time on missions. Drew: The Union is not opposed to people finding their joy in life. We joined the Union to provide a better life to the people. Lucas: … Lucas: Mr. Drew, please tell me what I’ve done wrong.

Drew is puzzled.

Drew: What makes you say that? I didn’t call you here to point out your mistakes.

Drew takes out some doodles from the cabinet and hands them to Lucas.

Drew: Those kids you saved in the previous mission made some drawings and sent them to the Union. I suppose you should have them. Lucas: What? What about your ears… Drew: What about my ears?

Lucas takes the cards but still looks at Drew’s ears in disbelief.

Lucas: They told me that whenever your ears are like this, that means you are angry. Drew: Ears… oh, it does apply most of the time. Drew: With some exceptions, of course. For example, someone put some super sour lemon candy in my candy jar for afternoon tea today. Lucas: … Drew: Sorry for making you nervous. Can I look at these drawings from the kids with you?

[writingthingsisdifficult]

Good intentions

Bucky Barnes x reader

Had to divide the story into four parts, and I’m working as fast as I can to finish the rest.

Please don’t hesitate to tell me what you think :) Especially if you like it.

Everybody's alive.

When Natasha catches your reaction to seeing a soaking wet Bucky coming in from the rain, your life becomes unbearable. Nat considers herself a decent matchmaker, but what happens when both her subjects are resisting her attempts?

***

Part 1: Matchmaker

Word count: 4412

It had been raining for weeks. Racing streaks down the glass. Soft drumming against the umbrella. Big, fat drops of water splashing against the pavement, sending shivers through my body whenever they hit my skin. Two in rapid succession on my neck – don't know how, though, my coat collar was pulled up as high as it could go, and my umbrella was larger than average. Then one straight into my ear, which made me squeak in disgust. This had to be an omen.

I shook my umbrella before stepping through the door. No need to be a savage, though from the look of it, I was the only one who cared. A quick nod good morning to Nesta in the reception while making a mental note to call down the cleaning crew. The state of the floor was appalling. Mud and dirt and water – apparently not everyone remembered to wipe their feet before entering the building. And umbrellas all along the wall, dripping on the tiles, creating puddles so large a toddler would happily jump in them.

A long sigh escaped. Time for a stern talk with Nesta again. This was supposed to be a good first impression, not an impression of someone's mudroom. My stomach twisted, this was just the latest in a long string of minor complaints. If she didn't improve soon, I would have to make a note in her file and I hated being strict. Still, it was a part of my job, just like running errands before eight in the morning and longing for the coffee I left in my office. I didn't have to like it.

The elevator pinged. “Hey, Y/N.” Natasha walked out with a smile on her face. Her hair was red again, like flames cascading over her shoulders. Damn, that woman really could carry any hair colour. I nodded and smiled back. “Good morning, Agent Romanov. You're in early. What can I do for you? Love your hair, by the way."

"Thanks. I was wondering if you could help me with something."

I shook off my coat and adjusted the bag on my shoulder. "Of course. What do you need? Let me just –""

The door blew open, banging into the doorstopper before closing behind a sopping wet figure and an umbrella that definitely had seen better days. "Good morning, Y/N. Hey, Nat. Have you seen Clint?" Bucky shook himself, sending a glittering spray of water everywhere.

"No, but check the roof."

The air was knocked straight out of me. I couldn't stop the tiny squeak that tumbled over my lips.  The way his hair stuck to his face did things to me, not to mention how the water glistened on his metal arm. I hadn't felt heat on my face like that since I was seventeen and spilled juice all over my shirt in front of my neighbour Todd.

Swallowing the rest of the rude noises hovering in my throat, I forced a smile and nodded to the elevator. "Saw him by the coffee machine on the third floor earlier, Sargent Barnes." My voice was breathier that usual, and I cursed the weather for calling me out like that, while simultaneously praying to any deities listening that nobody noticed.

"Thanks." He marched to the elevator with a pace that would divide a crowd of people without a word.

Natasha looked between Bucky and me, a devilish smile spreading on her face. Once he was out of earshot, she bumped me with her elbow. “So, Bucky, huh?”

The heat crept up my ears and settled in my temples. Surely I was no more than two seconds from combusting? “What? I don’t… no, I mean –" I drew a big breath and steeled my face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now, what was it you needed my help with?”

Her eyes locked on mine. "Never mind that… You're a terrible liar."

A good point. I let out a small wheeze and scrunched my eyes shut. "Fine! Yes, Sargent Barnes is a tall drink of water. Is that what you want me to say? Well, yeah, okay. Maybe I do have a thing for him." The defeat was inevitable. Already my intestines were squirming. Nothing good could come from this.

Natasha looked like it was Christmas and her birthday all at once. "I knew it!"

I shrugged, ignoring the rising chill in my chest. How to best deescalate this before it got out of hand? "Well, you are a superspy after all. But please, PLEASE, don't say anything to him. I like my job. Besides, he's a fucking superhero. I'm just… me."

"Just you?" She shook her head lightly and rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, I mean, come on! Look at me!" Holding my arms out, I swayed from side to side. I never liked to draw attention to my body, but apparently she needed the extra visual.

Natasha arched her eyebrow. "I am looking."

She was good, but I couldn't to give up that easily. "Yes, and then you clearly see that I'm ordinary. People like him don't fall for people like me. He's too perfect for that."

"Perf… perfect?" She snorted. "Y/N, Bucky's a mess. He's basically a cucumber with anxiety. Damn, you really have it bad if –"

"I know he has issues. You all do. I'm the one booking everybody's therapy sessions, remember? I'm not talking about his trauma. I'm talking about the fact that he's sweet as a marshmallow and his smile could power a small European country if Stark only found a way to harness its brilliance –"

"And the fact that he's got those broad shoulders and could probably lift and throw a bus if he wanted…"

"And that," I nodded, rubbing the back of my neck to stop that annoying heat from spreading even more. That was a delicious picture, alright. "But I'm nothing special."

"Y/N, sweetie, what are you talking about? You know everything, who's supposed to be where, what we're doing, when we come and go – that's practically a superpower right there. Don't downplay yourself."

The laughter came out dry and humourless. She had to be kidding. Being organised and good at puzzles wasn't exactly rocket science. And besides, I didn't even have a good memory. Without my trusty calendar and phone I'd be running around like Hei-Hei.

"Appreciate your confidence in me, but I don't think so, Nat," I countered and repeated: "Please don't tell him."

She sighed. "I won't."

I tilted my head and put on my best mom-voice. "Promise me."

Her shoulders slumped forward, and she lifted her hand in the air. "I promise I will never tell James Buchanan Barnes about your crush." There was a small pause. "Partypooper!"

"Who's a partypooper?"

I yelped and spun around, looking into Tony's smiling face. "Oh my god, Tony, I mean, Mr Stark." Why did he have to be so stealthy? A big, flashy guy like him ought to be required to announce his arrival with trumpets and drums. Through my galloping heartbeats I noted the glasses were new though, and wondered what kind of new tech they really were. They suited him.

He smirked. “Not the first time a lady has said that to me. But you didn’t answer my question.”

Exhaling, I closed my eyes, just barely resisting the urge to pinch my nose – or maybe kick him in the shin as a diversion. This was going to hell with the express train. “No one. No one's a partypooper.”

“Really?” He turned to Natasha. “Nat?”

I shook my head vigorously, bringing forth all malice I had to my eyes, which I have been told is substantial.

"Y/N has a crush and –"

"Ooh, is it me?" He winked and wiggled his eyebrows.

That made me laugh. "What? Oh, god no." Then I immediately felt bad for my reaction.

"Okay, a little bit insulted, but whatever…"

"She won't let me tell Bucky that she's in love with him," Natasha continued as if she had never been interrupted.

Tony gasped, a look of absolute delight in his eyes.

It was as if the ground disappeared beneath me. A rush of adrenaline almost knocked me off my feet. "Natasha! You promised."

She shrugged and pointed at Tony. "I promised not to tell Bucky. Last I checked, that is not him."

This time I did pinch the bridge of my nose and exhaled deeply, then groaned silently. “Nat!” Even I could hear the desperation in my voice. “Sargent Barnes is a friend. Well, uh, a colleague. Of sorts. I do not -“

“So you didn’t just squeak and burst into flames when he came through that door, huh?” She pointed to the glass door with a grin on her face.

Yeah, this was definitely a torture-the-handler day. Though Natasha was right about my crush, of course, and I wasn't even sure it was just a crush anymore; it had lasted for far too long to be called a crush, I had to keep a professional relationship with all of them.

Truth be told I had had a crush on Bucky since the day we were introduced, but I remembered the exact moment I had fallen in love: it was a chilly spring evening about a year ago. The team had decided to go out to eat, Wanda had discovered a new restaurant downtown, and the food supposedly was to die for. I couldn’t remember what I ate, or if I even liked it, but I remembered the knitted cardigan Bucky wore, the one with the colourful pattern on it. It looked really soft, and I found myself longing to touch it. That wasn’t the moment, though. The exact moment that made me go “Oh shit!” was when I cracked some stupid dad joke, and Bucky unleashed his full laughter on me. Who knew that "Singing in the shower is fun until you get soap in your mouth. Then it's a soap opera," would be my doom? But the sound had stunned me, made me lose my voice for several minutes. If someone had opened my skull at that moment, the only thing they would have found was an empty space and a dial tone - my brain frantically trying to reconnect with my body. If I concentrated I could still hear the ringing in my ears.

I avoided him for a week afterwards - well, tried and failed; my work meant contact with the entire Avengers team at all times - but the mental distance hurt too much to keep up with it. Since then, I allowed the realisation to wash over me, causing me both joy and suffering. And I thought I hid it well. Not well enough, apparently, since Natasha sniffed it out. I resisted the urge to close my eyes and sigh again. However, I couldn’t stop my intestines from curling into a tight ball. She had brought Tony into this after all.

Tony’s eyes shone. It had been a long time since any drama unfurled in the compound. He was practically starved, and this… This was delicious.

Looking between them, I knew this wouldn't end well. "You know what? I'm gonna go set up the briefing. Room 705. Thirty minutes. Don't be late." Fishing the phone out of my pocket, I sent a group text to everyone with time and location. In afterthought the wording in the text might have been a tad too harsh, threatening bodily harm if they were late, but the start of the day warranted some sort of reaction leaking from my brain. I locked eyes with Natasha. "Not. A. Word!"

She nodded, but the grin never left her face.

Tony watched me frantically push the elevator button, and I caught him whispering, not knowing I could still hear him. Or maybe he didn't care. "So what's your plan?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you have a plan? You're the resident match-maker here, aren't you?"

Nastasha let out a small laugh. "Do you know why she refuses to do anything about it?"

Tony nodded. “Because she’s professional and a bit afraid for what the people at the top are going to say?”

“No. Well, probably that too, but she thinks Bucky is way out of her league. Something about him being a superhero.” She snorted.

“What?” Tony let out a barking laugh. “Why? Bucky’s like the most timid ex-assassin you can find. I mean, he’s basically a cup of soft serve covered in salt and liquorice."

“I know. We gotta get them together. So, uh, are you in?”

“Uh, yeah! What’s your plan?”

The room finally sealed itself around me and I heard nothing else than the back of my head banging against the mirror wall and F.R.I.D.A.Y. cheerfully announcing what floor I was going to.

Half an hour later I had to step out for a bit to fetch a new cable to the projector, and when I got back, almost everyone were seated. My chest hollowed when I spotted Tony and Natasha sitting together, looking very conspiring indeed.

The urge to either run from the room or break them up rose in my throat, but instead I pulled up a chair next to Sam and focused on my breathing. He was one of the most calming people on the team, and I shamelessly used him as a shield.

Other than the small scare in the beginning, the morning briefing went without hitch. Agent Hill presented the upcoming missions, and I marked my calendar accordingly. Apparently SHIELD had detected a new terrorist group forming in northern Europe, and needed eyes.

Natasha was a given, she could go undetected for longer periods of time, and could take care of herself if necessary. Of course, Clint would come with her. They were an amazing team together, and he would probably go anyway, even if he was assigned to another task. It was better just to let him.

Steve and Sam would step in if it came to that, but would have to keep under the radar until they were needed. Bucky would travel to Europe with the others, but I knew he would set off alone the minute they touched ground in Stockholm. He worked best alone, or so he claimed, and anyway it would be an advantage to spread out. Still, I made a note on my pad to make sure he had everything he needed, and then some. Who knew where his road might lead him.

Bruce and Tony would work together to develop a better algorithm for the surveillance. So far, the terrorist group had evaded SHIELD's best efforts to pin them down. I was actually surprised to learn they didn't even know their name, which made me suspect something big was coming.

The rest of the team was assigned to other, smaller missions, scattered across the States. That way they could easily be reassigned if the situation escalated in Europe.

During the meeting, I kept an extra eye on Natasha and Tony. They sat next to each other, and though I thought I saw them passing notes a couple of times, I didn't want to bring any attention to it. The rest of the group looked oblivious. A sigh of relief escaped me, and Natasha looked up. She nodded imperceptibly towards Bucky, who sat with a bored look on his face and a discarded towel by his feet.

I narrowed my eyes and shook my head, trying my best to stop my ears from buzzing. Suddenly aware of every molecule in the air and trying desperately to ignore the intense weight, I focused all my attention back on Agent Hill’s presentation. Still, Bucky’s presence lingered in the back of my head, and together with the imminent threat from Natasha and Tony, I felt like I was sitting on explosives.

When Maria finally closed her laptop and turned to Director Fury, everybody got up, chatting as if the meeting had been a regular parent-teacher meeting and not a brief on a possible terrorist organisation on the rise.

“Can you believe that people will do things like this?” an agent asked as we all filed out of the room.

“Well, faith is a strong persuader,” I replied with a shrug. “Some are willing to go far for what they believe in.”

“Yeah, but they’re wrong,” the agent continued.

“They’d probably say the same about us,” Sam said, and I nodded.

“There are always two sides to the coin. If not more.”

“But -“

“And then it’s up to us to figure out what to do. We have to look at the big picture. Not everyone is capable of that.” Sam tilted his head with a look of disappointment in his eyes.

The agent huffed and hurried off with a look on his face that either said that he was constipated, or that being schooled by a member of the Avengers was too much for a Wednesday morning.

“Not sure he saw the big picture, Sam.” I shook my head and smiled.

“Don’t think he could. Better hope he doesn’t get promoted soon.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. He’ll be on desk duty for years still. And I guess you have a little desk duty yourself right now?”

“Well, actually… I was hoping you could do me a favour.”

Uh-oh. That sounded ominous. “Of course. What can I do, what do you need?” My voice rose to mimic the retail job I had before I got lucky enough to join SHIELD's training and ultimately land my dream job.

Sam grimaced. "I gotta go to Louisiana. Just a short trip, couple of days maybe."

"Shit, don't think Director Fury would be too happy about that right now, not to mention the rest of upstairs. You're supposed to be on silent duty until you leave for Sweden."

"Yeah, I know that, it's just… Cass and AJ has been asking me to come visit. And Sarah's getting sick of their nagging. Also, I sorta promised on the phone yesterday. Didn't know there would be a world crisis today."

Smiling softly, I hid the urge to smack my face into the wall. This was going to take a lot of explaining and string-pulling. He was supposed to go no-contact for the duration of the mission, but I hated disappointing the boys. And Sarah was a good woman. She didn't deserve being let down, even though it technically wasn't Sam's fault this time.

"Sam, you're such a softie," I said after some consideration. "Go. I'll figure something out. Just be back before the weekend, okay? And –"

"Yeah yeah, and I'll come in at once if the situation escalates before we're scheduled to head out."

I gave him a crooked smile to disguise the trouble he had just handed me. "Sure. But I was gonna say bring back some of that pecan pie. I've been dreaming about that since last summer."

Sam let out a loud laugh and kissed the top of my head, melting my nervous soul to a gooey puddle. "You're the best. Thanks."

"Fly safe."

"I always do."

"Really now?"

"Oh so that's how it is, huh?"

"That's how it is. Say 'hi' to Sarah for me."

With a short wave, he took off down the corridor, leaving me quietly screaming and already doing the mental gymnastics to find a solution.

***

Departure time was in two days. Everyone was on edge, trying their best to prepare for any eventualities, both inconceivable and expected. After a short meeting with the departure crew to share the last pieces of intel, I felt empty and tired. Missions always affected me more than they should. These people were my friends; if anything were to happen to them, my world would collapse.

Apparently I wasn't the only one feeling a bit drained. No one was in a hurry to leave, and the conversation was hushed and weary.

"You know what we need?" Tony said loudly, slicing through the silence and winking to Natasha. He thought I wouldn't notice, but I did, and the suspicion grew in my chest. What now?

"Pizza!" they said in unison. "We should gather everyone, before we all go."

Tony nudged my arm. "My treat. What do you say?"

Narrowing my eyes, I tilted my head. "…sure."

"Oh, don't be like that. We all need good pizza. Especially today, what with all this rain. Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y., you know that pizza bakery up the street, the one with the chicken one. Order pizza for everyone. Remember the one with pear, brie, and white sauce. Have it delivered to the lounge."

That did it for me. If he ordered my favourite, I'd be damn sure to eat my part. "When?"

"Uh…" He looked at his watch. "Noon. I'll send out a ping. Don't worry about it."

"Thanks. I do have a ton of things to do to make sure you guys don't die on this trip." I tried to keep it light, but now that the thought had settled in my mind, I had to fight off the tears. It was a miracle I managed to keep the tremble from my voice.

An hour later I tripped over the doorstep to the lounge, surprised to see it was empty except for Tony and Natasha and a huge stack of pizzas. "Where is everybody?" The door clicked behind me, sealing the silence in.

Natasha shrugged. "Late?"

At that moment the door opened again and Bucky sauntered in with a mischievous smile on his face. "Gimme the pizza and nobody gets hurt."

"Jeez, Buck. Remember your manners. There are ladies present." Tony grinned, but opened the top box and helped himself to a slice.

Bucky snickered and rolled his eyes. "Sorry, Y/N," he said with an over-the-top flourish. "I hope you can forgive my insolence." He gestured towards the pizzas. "Ladies first."

My heart did a somersault, but I managed to keep it cool on the outside. "Insolence forgiven," I replied, swallowing a hiccough that lodged itself in my throat, before taking a plate and sifting through the boxes until I found the right one. Loading my plate, I sat down, sinking into the soft cushions. Only thing missing now was some candles and a drink, and I'd be set for the day.

Natasha gave Tony a pointed look. Two minutes later he picked up his phone and half jogged out the door. That was odd. Tony never jogged.

I looked between Natasha and the door, the pizza forgotten halfway between the plate and my mouth. She looked anywhere but at me, but was saved from a confrontation by her phone ringing. "Gotta take this," she muttered. "Can't prepare enough for the trip." She smiled apologetically and left the room. That was a lie, of course. She had full control; all intel was already read and destroyed. And if something new had come up, I would have been notified too.

Suddenly the plate felt heavy in my hand. Maybe it was naïve, but I had expected Natasha and Tony to respect my wishes; after all I had made it absolutely clear that they should leave it, hadn't I? Their amusement and entertainment wasn't worth being an inconvenience to Bucky.

"What's going on?" Bucky asked when the door clicked behind Natasha.

"I… I don't know," I lied haltingly.

Bucky shrugged. "Oh well. Might as well catch up on some paperwork before the flight too. See you later." With one slice between his teeth and another in his hand, he left the room with a friendly wave.

"Sure. See you." I spoke to his back; the glass door had already closed behind him. The lump in my throat grew. Even though Tony had ordered my favourite pizza, I no longer had any appetite. My mouth was dry, and it was a struggle to swallow. In a fit of frustration, I kicked the table, smacking my toe in the process. The pizza slice slid from the plate and landed on my thigh. "Fuck!"

"Ooh, pizza!"

I spun in my seat. Steve had just arrived, and that made me feel a little bit better at least. He was always a laugh.

"Where is everybody?" He looked around and spotted my moping figure, holding an equally sad slice of pizza. "You okay?"

"I guess," I replied, trying to smile and failing miserably. "Everybody else left. The mission, yeah?"

"Right. I thought everything was planned and okayed."

I couldn't bring myself to fill him in on the situation. If he didn't already know, it was nice to have someone neutral by my side. "Yeah, I don't know."

Their scheme was becoming clear; making Bucky spend time with me alone. But it was a failure. Even he thought it was awkward, and he obviously didn't want to be alone with me. Not that I blamed him. If I was him, I'd do the same.

I glanced at my watch. 12.30. Just then Sam, Bruce, Wanda, and Vision spilled into the room, heading towards the pizza like a herd of hungry goats. Slowly my appetite returned too, and half an hour later the blow to my heart was a painful memory pushed to the back of my mind by excellent pizza and wonderful friends.

Later that day I ran into Tony on the way to the garage. He tried to slip past me, but had to stop when I blocked the door, arms crossed over my chest and puffing myself up as much as I could. "Seriously, Tony! What did you expect to happen, huh? That I'd just throw myself in his arms because we were alone? Because newsflash: I've got both self-control and decency. Do you really think I've never been alone with him before?"

At least he had the decency to look thoroughly chastised, and he mumbled something inaudible I thought maybe sounded like an apology.

No way he was getting away with a tiny one. "What was that? I couldn't quite hear you."

"It was Nat's idea," he said, trying a smirk that didn't work at all.

"I very much doubt that," I replied, dragging a hand over my eyes. "Do I have to call Pepper? I didn't think so," I added when he shook his head. "Do better! Now excuse me. I have a lot of work to do to ensure you actually don't die on this mission." With a final, exaggerated frown, I turned and marched out of the room, ignoring the samba in my chest.

Part 2: Eel infested waters

[serendipityjxmn]

Chapter 11

TW: None

Words Count: 2.6k

Link to Masterlist

Link to Chapter 12

You think one day of rest was enough since you can walk perfectly well now without wincing. So you wake earlier than Jimin the next day, marvelling at his features for a few moments but also fighting the urge to punch him out of giving you sleeping pills so you could oversleep and not come to work.

But now that you’ve reached the office, you feel nervous. You don’t know how to face Minhyuk. You don’t know if you could even face him.

Luckily, you don’t see him at all throughout the morning. During lunch however, when you return to the office, you see him first before he does yet he just brushes right pass you. You feel relieved yet you can’t shake off the strange feeling.

And your hunch turns out to be right when Minhyuk starts being mean from the next encounter and forward. He gets angry at you for the smallest of reasons. He doesn’t quite look at you when he gives order and when you ask him to clarify things, sometimes he would glare at you. It also doesn’t help that as you get more nervous you tend to make more mistakes.

Work feels even more exhausting when you’re mentally stressed at workplace. You come home with a headache that one night.

As soon as you prepared Jimin’s dinner, you hunt for some medicines and brings it with you as you head towards the room at the end of the hallway which you’ve somehow turned into your small office area (and your husband doesn’t seem to mind so-). You sit yourself on the sofa and shifts through the documents. The expenses report from several departments submitted during today’s meeting aren’t due for review until Friday yet Minhyuk says he wants to see it first thing next morning. You know he’s just doing it to get back at you and he’d probably ended up stacking the files on his table untouched just like the last task which means you’re doing this for naught anyway but you don’t want to give him any chance of finding your fault so here you are.

Your head feels like spinning so you quickly gulp down the medicine and force yourself to start on your work. Half an hour into it though, you don’t realize when you had fallen asleep.

You wake up next day in your own bed, perfectly tucked in while Jimin sleeps soundly next to you. You sit up almost immediately.

You look at the sleeping figure next to you, his snores are very light, you note.

Unknowingly, you inch closer to his side. You’ve always loved his smell. He just smells like... him.

You’re pretty sure he tucked you in last night. Why does he pretend to be so harsh all the time if he actually cares for you?

Maybe it isn’t impossible to build a civil relationship with him. With your husband.

You stare at his features. You can’t deny it. Jimin’s really good looking. And this good looking man is your husband. Sometimes you still have trouble believing.

Your eyes fall to his lips. His plump pink lips looks very tempting. You briefly wonder if-

Don’t.

Don’t fall for him.

And at that exact moment, Jimin’s eyes shot open while simultaneously his hand grips your right hand that hovers over his face seconds ago tightly. You freeze completely, not moving a muscle because you know he’s doing it out of reflex and you don’t want to dwell on how he’s trained for that.

His stare at you is murderous and your hand move to retreat but he kept his grip vice like on your wrist.

And you could feel the intensity slowly rising between the both of you.

You could’ve sworn his face inches closer to you and you panic instantly so you back away and sit up. Without wasting another breath, you get up and disappear into the shower.

You panic at your desk. In light of this morning’s incident, finding yourself in your bed instead of the sofa as well the tense moments with Jimin, you weren’t in the right state of mind so you completely forgot about the report Minhyuk asks you to handle yesterday.

You gather your courage to tell Irene first.

“Ah the sales reports?” She says and you nod. “Mr. Park already handed it to me first thing this morning when he arrived. I went to see Mina just now and handed the reports to Mr. Kim as well.”

O...kay. You definitely don’t expect that but you can’t help but sigh in relief. Did Jimin take it last night when he finds you in the small library room?

“Wait. If you brought the files home last night, how does Mr. Park have it?” Irene narrows her eyes at you.

Shoot. “Um- I forgot I didn’t- I mean, I just realized I didn’t bring it home at all. My head was really spinning last night and I thought I brought it home, turns out I didn’t.” You fake a smile. “Perhaps Mr. Park saw it on my table.”

Irene huffed at your answer, perhaps contemplating whether to believe you or not. She doesn’t say anything after that.

You’re at Mina’s table, discussing with her about updates on meetings with R&D team as requested by your husband when Kim Minhyuk appears from his office room, storming at you with a furious look.

“Miss Y/N, what on earth do you think you’re doing?” He shouts at you, making everyone at the office look up and you feel small immediately. “Are you even doing your job?”

“I’m sorry Mr. Kim-“

“This!” He pushes a document towards you and you look down to see the sales report yesterday.

“Is there something wrong-“

“You fucking tell me.” He snarls. “Tell me, how on earth did you organize this? I don’t understand a single thing. Did you even do it?”

You remain silent. Because he’s right. You didn’t do it. But how can you say that? What would you say to him? That your husband, the president, the CEO arranged the report?

“I honestly have no idea if you’re coming for work or you’re just fucking around.” He hisses.

You literally hear the gasps from your office mate.

You draw a breath, trying to calm yourself to face Minhyuk. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kim if you’re not satisfied but-“

“Mr. Park.” Someone says. Your stomach lurch instantly.

Both you and Minhyuk look up. Your lung drops when you sight your husband standing few metres away, his hands in his pocket.

“Jimin.” Minhyuk addresses your husband.

Jimin’s eyes are on you and you look down immediately. Anxiety starts filling you up. Is he going to shout at you too?

He crosses the distance and stops short before you and Minhyuk.

“Minhyuk.” Jimin nods at him. “Do you mind if I borrow.. my wife for a moment?”

Everyone in the room gasps including you.

You stare up at him, eyes wide in shock. He wasn’t looking at you, he was smiling at Minhyuk although you know it’s entirely a facade.

You eyes flicker to Minhyuk. His expression is priceless. You’ve never seen him in a state more shock, what with all his constant smirk or flirty expression.

“Y-your wife?” He stutters.

Jimin steps closer to you then place his hand around your waist, pulling you flush against him that earns another gasp around the room. “My wife,” he reconfirms. Then towards you, he smiles briefly before he pulls you with him and leaves you at your desk before you could say anything as he walks back towards his office.

You’ve no idea what to say.

Everyone knows you’re his wife now.

And you’ve never felt so guilty towards Jimin.

Irene had never been this loud before, you think.

“Like what on earth- I really wouldn’t know! Like you know, with the way he’s treating you or literally everyone with his cold personality. Oh well, I guess that explains his stares at you.”

You stare at her. “He.. stares.. at me?”

“He does! Quite a lot actually. Caught him on a few occasions. You probably won’t notice them but I have eyes of a hawk.” She winks at you.

“You’re sure he’s not doing it to everyone?”

“Hmm he kind of does actually.. But with you- I don’t know. The look is softer, I think.” Irene says fondly.

You shake your head. “You’re exaggerating.”

“No, I’m not.” She sigh. “Why didn’t you tell me? Or anyone for that matter.”

You give her a small smile. “We wanted to keep it private. Don’t really wanna mix work.”

She nods at this. Then suddenly, her eyes widen at you then clasps your hand tightly. “Oh God! You really really have to forgive me.”

You frown. “You did something wrong?”

“Remember when you asked me about Clara Kim? Oh God- and I freaking told you she’s his girlfriend oh Lord- I’ve commited a huge sin, I know- and I’m so so sorry-“

You burst out laughing. She looks puzzled at first but then joins you. Then she turns serious. “But were you for real? You really don’t know who Clara Kim is?”

You bit your lips, unsure how to answer her. Then you slowly nod. “I don’t know.”

She looks at you in sympathy then leans down to whisper, “You think he’s cheating?”

You know he does. “No, I don’t think so. If he is, why would he let his wife be his secretary where she practically knows all his schedule?”

“Hmph. Makes sense, I guess.” She straightens herself then. “Okay. I’m going out to lunch. You coming?”

At that same moment, Jimin comes out. His eyes find you immediately. “Had your lunch?”

“I’m about to head out with Irene.”

“No- no Mr. Park. I forgot I actually had plans with my boyfriend. She’s all yours.” Irene says, already picking up her stuffs and standing.

You know she just made that up so you try as hard to give her the eye that you don’t wanna go for lunch with your husband now but she dashes off super quickly, leaving you with your husband.

“Come on.” He says.

You stand rooted to your spot, not budging. Jimin turns back to look at you. “I’m- I’m gonna have lunch with Mina.”

He glares at you and you almost want to cower but still holds your decision.

“Fine then.” He grunts then walks away. You heave a sigh of relief.

You don’t actually plan to have lunch with Mina. In fact, you don’t feel like going out at all. Instead, you sink back onto your chair. Your iPad in front of you flashes and you grab it instantly.

You feel your blood runs cold immediately upon seeing it.

You’re all over the news.

[REVEALED] Seoul’s most successful young CEO, Park Jimin’s wife identity revealed.

Mid this year, a large population of young women in South Korea had their hearts broken when arguably, Seoul’s most eligible bachelor, a young and good looking, successful CEO of the largest tech company, Park Jimin announced that he would be tying the knot with non-public figure woman, who’s identity remains closely kept secret.

But we finally know now who’s the girl that has stolen the heart of the heir to Parks Corporations. The woman is revealed to be __, 23 years old, currently working as secretary at Park Jimin’s own company, Bangtan Inc. It seems like the President wants to keep the wife close- much to the single ladies who’s working in the company’s heartbreak. The background of Park Jimin’s wife is yet to be known but whoever she may be, she must be reading a helluva of a prenup. Bagging South Korea’s allegedly most eligible bachelor, perhaps we can arrange a session to ask for a tip or two?

You wish the ground could swallow you whole.

Isn’t it illegal to be exposing informations of non public figure like this? Though you suppose the writer is trash anyway when he exposed your identity while clearly stating you’re a non public figure in the same line.

Wasn’t your marriage to Jimin suposed to be a secret and your identity kept hidden?

Yeah but then you yourself went to work at his company, gets harrassed that drive to the point of Jimin having to expose your relationship.

God. Both your index finger pressed each side of your temple tightly.

You’re contemplating whether you’re supposed to go back with Jimin so you decided to just go with him if he comes out of the office around the same time you’re off work but if he doesn’t then you’ll head home first and you desperately pray for the latter.

However, all hopes went down the drain when Jimin appears out of his room and only glares at you for a few seconds before you scramble to your feet and hastily packs your stuff.

And that’s how you find yourself walking timidly, very self conscious behind him as everyone stares at the two of you and you think it couldn’t get anymore embarassing at this.

Jimin is silent during the car ride. He busied himself with his iPad, leaving you fidgeting in the heavy silence. You decided to just man up and address the elephant in the room.

“J-Jimin..” you call softly. “I’m sorry it came down to this.. and now everyone knows you’re- I’m- um.. we’re-“

“Married.” He cuts you off.

You look up at him. He doesn’t look at you, his eyes still on his tab.

“We’re married.” He repeats. “Is that so hard to say?” He asks, finally looking at you.

“No- I me-“

“Nevermind.” He turns his gaze back to his tab and the conversation is over.

You don’t mean it that way but you just don’t want people looking down at him for marrying you, someone of no status and not even a decent upbringing background.

You play with the spoon on your hand, guilt still swallowing you whole. Drawing a breath, you look up at Jimin who’s drinking his glass of water. You’re both on the dining table, only sounds of cutleries can be heard.

“Jimin, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean for all this to get exposed. I’m sorry.” You say softly.

His expression turns cold. “Are you?” He asks, looking straight at you with piercing eyes, making you recoil.

“What do you mean? I didn’t want this to happen either-“

“Yeah none of this would’ve happened if you just sit your ass at home, playing house or the perfect fucking wife.” He sneers. “Instead, you just have to work in my own fucking company, get yourself harrassed and left me with no choice.”

You want to answer him, that he’s being unfair because you didn’t ask to be harrassed but Jimin was raging so you stay muted.

“It’s dangerous, do you know that? Now everyone knows who my wife is and it’s fucking dangerous-“

“Why?” You cut him. “Tell me why it’s dangerous- Jimin who are you-“

He raises from his seat and leans down to you, face merely inches away and you swallow. “I’m a dangerous person darling.. I can snap your neck in two and you won’t see it coming.” He says as his fingers touch your neck, in an act that seems as if it’s caressing it but you know better. “And now that everyone knows who you are.. that means they can come and snap your neck too baby. But of course, you wouldn’t see it coming. And that’s what happens when you don’t listen to me. Not when I tell you to quit your fucking job, not ever.”

He raises again, standing upright before turning on his wheels and leaves you. You struggle to calm your erratic breath and nerves. And finally, you let the tears flow.

That night too, you wrote the resignation letter.

Link to Chapter 12

Posted on 210423 9:00PM

[timextoxhajima]

Love Me A Little Less: Chapter 2 - Auction

LOVE ME A LITTLE LESS CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Member: (3rd person pov) arranged marriage au with Lee Juyeon

Genre: angsty wangsty

Taglist: @hyunvelies​ 

“You no longer own me.”

The guppies in the tank that spans nearly half the space of the wall flush around, their brightly colored and flared tails gently wading in the water. Juyeon gently taps on the glass, the yellow guppy swimming towards him instead of away. The shelves are stacked with books on marine life and nature, posters of the Northern Lights dawn the walls if they weren’t covered in the latest Apple commercial poster. 

He hears the hurried footsteps before he hears his assistant, who is huffing by the time she’s at the door of his office. “Anything urgent, Miss Young? Forgive me if I imagined I told you that I would be unavailable until after lunch.”

“Sir, I think you should see the news. I know why your parents aren’t in office today.”

“What?” Juyeon finally pulls away from the tank, worried eyes scanning his assistant. She’s well-dressed, has short hair and ruby cheeks. She looks like she belongs in high school. “Anything serious happen? An accident?”

“Um, no, it’s just--”

Ring ring

Lee Juyeon turns to the phone set on his table, then side-eyes Young Jin Seol, feet turning toward the device. 

“No, sir! Wait, before you--”

“Hello?”

“Good morning, Mr Lee. We’re calling from The Board to request your availability tonight for a press conference regarding today’s updates.”

Juyeon scoffs gently, standing straight up and resting a hand on his hip. He turns to look at Jin Seol, eyes filled with caution, as if they meant to say I told you not to pick it up.

“I’m sorry but... what updates?”

“The change in ownership of HERA & ARTEMIS and the marriage.”

There’s a brooding uneasiness in his gut as he processes the heavy word. In the world of corporate under The Board, the word ‘marriage’ is nothing but a contract.

“Remind me who this concerns?”

“You, sir. The marriage between you and Kim Jang Won. The Board would like your presence during a press conference to address the marriage as well as the following change in ownership of HERA & ARTEMIS.”

It’s like Medusa has just stared him straight in the eye, for Juyeon fails to respond in any way possible. 

“Uh... sir? Hello? Mr Lee Juyeon?”

Jin Seol rushes over, able to hear the voice on the other end calling out to him. She grabs the phone and presses it to her ear, eyes plastered to Juyeon, whose lips seemed to be whitening. “Hi, this is Young Jin Seol, Mr Lee’s assistant. He’s not feeling very well now, so I’ll get him to give you a call later regarding the press conference, if that’s alright.”

“Oh, um, of course. But we’d like to have details settled by 1pm later, Miss Young. If it’s not too troubling to relay the message to Mr Lee.”

“Rest assured, he’ll...” Jin Seol watches Juyeon trudge to the couches sitting before the tank, sinking into the soft cushion and pressing his fingers into his closed lids. “I’ll make sure he gets back to you by then.”

Juyeon can feel the skin on his chest stretch when he sucks in a deep breath. The nonsensical thoughts start to crowd his head in the most logical way possible, if that was even possible. Luckily, the only thing he could hear was the bubbling of the oxygen pump in the tank.

He hears Jin Seol return the phone back into the phone set before he finally opens his eyes, vision a little blurred from the pressure of his fingers. 

“I could schedule them in straight away but I have a feeling you’d want to talk to your parents first, Mr Lee.”

Juyeon brings his palms down to his nose and mouth, lips perpendicular to his index finger and his thumbs under his chin as he focuses on the table before him. The white tulips in the vase have already started to brown. 

“Schedule them for lunch at 11 and I’d like to be left alone from 12.30 to 1. I’ll call The Board myself afterwards,” Juyeon notes the coldness in his voice, an element he doesn’t even recognise much. “My parents and I have alot to talk about.”

The Director of Chang’s Funeral Services personally flips open the file, turning it and sliding it across the table to the siblings sitting opposite them. Mr Chang would’ve shat himself if Kim Jang Won had come alone - she doesn’t have the title ‘Hera’s Princess’ for nothing. It’s a good thing ‘The Prince of Artemis’ had come with her. But maybe that’s just it, isn’t it? 

What if he pulled out a gun and shot me right now?

Younghoon’s eyes conscientiously process the printed words on the document, his sister a little too over the edge to be paying attention to anything. 

“We-- Um, carried out an investigation and realised that the bodies were... well... mismatched.”

Younghoon listens, but his gaze is still on the carbon print. The file was labelled KIM JO-PIL but the papers in the folder belonged to someone else. Someone else’s body. A common city address. 

“Have you excavated the body?”

“In progress, Mr Kim. They should be calling any time now for after identification.”

“I don’t suppose you have the documents for Kim Jo-Pil? The ones that were supposed to be in this folder?”

“The thing is... I remember seeing the documents. My colleagues have too. The people in charge of your father’s burial saw it too. But... if it’s not in this office then frankly, I’ve got no clue where it would be.”

For the first time in 3 hours, Jang Won actually looks somewhat understanding, sympathetic, empathetic. Younghoon shuts the file and slides it over to Jang Won when she sits up in her seat. 

“If you don’t mind, we’ll take the file and contact the deceased’s family. When’s that body identification phone call coming in?” Then the 3-hour streak is lost, and Younghoon sighs exasperatedly, out of her peripheral vision. “Taking mighty long for a simply body identification, no?”

Flustered, Mr Chang fumbles for the phone set sitting in the corner of his desk, hurriedly dialing a number. 

“Where do you think he ran to for 2 years?” Jang Won squints at the deceased’s information. “Why 2 years?”

Younghoon runs a hand through his hair, probably worth about half a million Korean Won. “You ask me as if I know any more than you do.”

Mr Chang is finally talking to someone. Jang Won’s focus fixates on something familiar at the bottom of the page. 

“That’s because maybe you do,” Lifting the file, she points to the bottommost section.

LAST OCCUPATION: 

PHOTOGRAPHER FOR ARTEMIS ENTERTAINMENT GROUP

“It’s your company and subsidiary. I’m surprised you don’t recognise the name.”

“I might own Artemis but I don’t personally know all 278 employees. If he’s a photographer and I don’t recognise him, that means he’s in another department. Women, or children or product. I’m only listed as a model under the ‘Males’ department.”

There’s a silence in the air that allowed Younghoon to hear the gears churning in Jang Won’s head. The appearance of Kim Jo-Pil, 2 years after his supposed death, has just dragged both his children and everybody else related into a mess of a puzzle. But Younghoon has no doubt his sister can find all the pieces, much less draw the connections. 

There’s a reason why she could build HERA & ARTEMIS from the ground up.

Mr Chang finally hangs up, sighing heavily as he looks at the powerful siblings over the rim of his glasses. “They’ve confirmed. The body in the coffin you saw your father in belongs to the man in the document.”

Younghoon chortles in disbelief. “Right then. So our father did die, but someone managed to swap the bodies before it was lowered, and then proceeded to keep him alive for the next 2 years.”

Jang Won flips and finds a portrait of the dead man. “Question is... who?”

Younghoon stands up first, thanking Mr Chang and tapping Jang Won as he turns for the exit of the office. The Director doesn’t even get a chance to bid his goodbye when Jang Won leaves, behind Younghoon. 

Escorted by four bodyguards, the siblings walk side by side with her heels clicking against the floor. Upon reaching the first floor, the lift doors ding open into an array of reporters hustling outside the entrance. 

“Get them out of my face before I ruin their lives!”

The guards rush before them, hurriedly trying to disperse the crowd. Jang Won pulls out her sunglasses, covering her eyes. 

“Time-wasting assholes.”

The shouted questions are loud and intrusive. The short distance of a few tens of metres feel like a mile from all the shoving and yelling. The flashes refuse to cease, but they’ve been in the spotlight for so long, it just gets annoying. 

BREAKING: KIM YOUNGHOON AND KIM JANG WON SPOTTED AT CHANG’S FUNERAL SERVICES - KIM JO-PIL CONFIRMED TO HAVE BEEN SWAPPED OUT BEFORE BURIAL TWO YEARS AGO

Juyeon turns into the private room the restaurant manager has led him to, leaving him at the door whilst his parents gawk at the headlines blasting on the screen mounted to the wall. There’s a picture of Kim Jang Won and her brother getting into a car right below the headlines. 

“Quite a mess, isn’t it?”

Both of them whip around to see the young man standing by the door, pushing himself off the frame and strutting into the private room. The whole fit he was wearing could buy a short vacation. His father reaches for the remote and shuts off the television. 

“I expect nothing less from Kim Jo-Pil, given the history of HERA & ARTEMIS. It was just a matter of time before his daughter took over and turned it into a multi-billion name,” His mother sings, fingers around the base of a glass of wine and carefully swirling the blood-red liquid. 

Juyeon sits, and a waiter comes by to fill his glass with wine. The gentle whir of the air-conditioning in the room is the only source of noise, other than the waiter taking his leave. Juyeon picks up the glass, raising a brow as he brings it to his lips. “I expect nothing less from my own parents when they are about to put me up for a certain type of contract,” He pauses, the glass in mid-air. “Say... a marriage.”

His lips meet the curve of the glass and he takes a sip. 

“We wanted to tell you before we agreed, but--”

“But the money’s more worth?” He winces from the alcohol in the wine, frowning and offering a sarcastic purse of his lips. “I can imagine. All that stuff you have at home... you know, grand piano worth five million, a kitchen big enough for a herd of horses-- oh, not to mention the actual stable of horses... Yeah, I guess... I guess I could empathise with how you needed more than those. Planning a re-deco? I might know some great architects.”

“Juyeon...”

“No, no,” Placing down the glass, he waves his hand. “Let me put things into perspective for you. After all, gotta make the homework I did on my way here worth it right? See if it’s correct.” 

Juyeon clears his throat and cracks his knuckles, knowing that his parents are offering him the most miserable looks they’ve ever given him in his life. 

“The Board announces Kim Jo-Pil’s return. HERA & ARTEMIS goes back under his belt, leaving Kim Jang Won, current owner and might I say, the very reason why HERA & ARTEMIS is as good as it is today, jobless and absolutely helpless in a ditch. The Board then passes a rule, one which I have never heard before in my life, maybe because it’s never happened before, but... in order for Kim Jang Won to re-obtain some kind of ownership or at least some part of HERA & ARTEMIS, she must marry a name attached to The Board. And the two of you, seeing how rich and successful Kim Jang Won has made HERA & ARTEMIS, snatched the offer up first and put me on the stage... for auction.”

“Auction...!”

“Correct me, will you? Because that’s exactly what I think you did. What, becoming the next director of Apple-Korea isn’t enough for you? Owning the Korean branch of one of the largest tech companies in the world isn’t enough-- you must have a fashion-retail company?!”

The entire room falls into heavy silence. The waiters knock before entering with some seafood appetizer. Juyeon sucks his lips between his teeth, nibbling anxiously on his bottom one. 

“Juyeon...” His father waits for the waiter to leave. “We... we just wanted the best for you. You know how powerful the Kim family is. Any remote connection to them will do us good. It’ll do you good.”

He scoffs and rubs his forehead with his index and middle finger. “I really have no clue what’s going on in those heads of yours sometimes.”

“I don’t know why you’re so against this, Juyeon. It’ll be helpful to you in your future!”

“As opposed to what? Wanting to be a marine biologist? Wanting to study the waters and nature? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

Thinking that his father would hush his mother, Juyeon is surprised when he doesn’t. 

“Wow, really? Nothing?”

Silence. 

His mother picks up a fork.

“Very nice to know that you’re treating me like a piece of property instead of your son.”

Juyeon pulls the napkin off his lap and stands. 

“Oh, and uh... Don’t wait for a wedding invitation. You’re not getting one.”

“Juyeon!” His parents collectively exclaim in disdain, eyes widening as he struts towards the exit and out of the room.

“What? You auctioned me off! You no longer own me, right?!” 

Juyeon huffs angrily, hands running through his hair and ruining his own efforts of waxing his hair. He enters the lift, multiple staff members looking at him stride into the metallic box, confused. His fingers search for his phone in the pocket of his blazer, the device buzzing non-stop from the headlines and messages and emails from broadcasting companies and companies he couldn’t give two shits about. 

But when the lift doors open and he sees the  Kim Jang Won standing right outside with the same suit and sunglasses he had previously seen her on TV with, his eyes widen with a mix of surprise and distaste. 

“Well, if it isn’t Kim Jang Won... or might I say, my fiancé?”

“My dad couldn’t have done this on his own. I have a theory, and multiple plans to fix this mess of a shitshow, so I’m here to figure out if you wanna be in on it.”

Juyeon scoffs and shoves his hands into his pockets, stepping out of the lift and staring down straight at her. He attempts to search for her eyes through the chocolate-brown shade of her sunglasses, but fails. 

A tiny smirk crawls unto her lips as she pulls it off, her bright, sparkling, manipulative eyes ignite some flame in Juyeon. 

Because that’s just how smart and cunning Kim Jang Won is.

“I know you don’t give a shit, Lee Juyeon. About The Board, about the marriage, about Apple.”

He chuckles, teeth wiping his canine teeth as he pulls his shoulders back. “So you Googled me. Should I be impressed?”

Then his phone buzzes and he pulls it out in a bid to display some kind of disinterest. 

Young Jin Seol [12.13pm]: The tulips are here! [photo]

He blinks, eyes travelling from the screen to the most powerful figure of his generation under The Board.

“If I could find this out from Google, I think you should revisit your privacy logistics,” Kim Jang Won squints one eye and raises her brow. “I’m not here to confuse you or piss you off, Lee Juyeon. I’m here with an offer, to save both our asses. I want HERA & ARTEMIS back but I cannot do it if I have no link to it.”

“What’s in it for me then? It’s not like you can buy me a degree in marine biology.”

“I can’t but you could have the freedom to do so. I’ll pay for you to start your own company. Whoever said you needed a degree to do what you wanted to do? In this world... all you need is money and a little bit of brain... but!” She points to him her sunglasses. “You don’t have to worry about either because I’ve got that covered. All I need you to do is get down on one knee -- willingly -- for the whole world to see... and I’ll give you your freedom.”

Juyeon sucks in a deep breath so hard that he wheezes and Kim Jang Won could not be any more satisfied with herself. 

[like-rain-or-confetti]

Alice in Gotham (Jervis Tetch x Reader)

This is crazy, by the way." You mumbled to yourself. "Are you sure you still want to do this?" Batman looked down at you and you nodded. "I've come this far." "Remember I won't be far away and I won't let you out of my sight." Batman reminded you. "Yeah, got it. You nodded, run your hands through your new hair. It was actually a wig, a blonde one that was styled like Alice from Alice in Wonderland. You wore a black skirt and white shirt with a black ribbon under the collar. After that was a red coat that you left unbuttoned and red lipstick to match. You memorised lines from the story but regardless, the blonde hair was important. It would be what fixates him. It was always the first thing that draws him in and then he can't let go. 

It was very cold in Gotham on this particular night and you weren't sure if your trembling was in anticipation, fear or simply the cold. The plan was unconventional and utter madness, but so was Jervis Tetch. If you kept your distance from him, lured him away, then it would be fine The hostages would be safe. 

Getting in was tricky, you had to be silent and create an exit for yourself. A quick and easy one. Luckily enough, the buildings entrance door had no door. Unfortunately, there were corridors upon corridors, like a maze. It seemed almost fitting that he chose this place.  However your stomach dropped when you found he wasn't alone. 

Two-Face, Scarecrow and the Riddler were also present with Jervis. You silently cursed to yourself. These other criminals made it significantly more difficult, not to mention two of which being genius level in intelligence. You were going to just leave, you turned, ducking behind a corner before Jervis' voice rang out. "Alice?"

Your eyes widened and you hurriedly moved into a dark room. Hiding under the table under the window. He had to have seen the blonde curls, that's the only thing that would ever spot a mile away.  "Tetch, now is not the time for your damn hallucinations! No one is there!" Two-Face snapped. "I'm certain! Certain, see!" Someone sighed. "Well why don't you show me where you saw Alice, hm?" The voice was much less rough than Two-Face's whilst the Riddler's voice was always filled with narcissism. That left only Jonathan Crane- the Scarecrow. 

You heard them grow closer, turning the corner stopping outside the room you were in.  "Are you certain you saw her? You know the mind tends to play tricks..." Jonathan asked. His voice was monotone and smooth, a complete opposite to his frightening obsession with fear. "Certain, I am, Mr Crane! Certain, I am! Poor Alice must not have seen me. A dark night this can be!" His words sent a shiver down your spine. Jervis wouldn't be anywhere near as intimidating if he spoke like an ordinary person. The door of the room you were hiding in creaked open and a light scanned the room. The table blocked any chances of you being found. Your eyes boring into the two pairs of legs. Your heart pounded in your ears but you tried to keep your breathing as quiet and to a minimum. 

"Come on, already!" Two-Face's voice rang out. Jervis huffed. "Dismissive! Rude! I don't like your attitude!" Jervis called back but they turned out the light and walked away. You couldn't help but silently thank Harvey for saving you even though he didn't intend to. 

This building had previously been offices, as hinted by the many rooms sectioned with dividers and many old computers. All left abandoned as though everyone collectively got up and left without explanation. "Well, I say Crane, Nygma and I take this lot a couple of floors up. We all know Jervis isn't any help with that." Two-Face grumbled. Jervis made a noise of protest. "He's right, Jervis. You keep an eye on things down here. Come up to floor 1 in ten minutes." You didn't understand how everything Edward said, came off as smug. It was odd and very annoying. "Everyone, up!" Two-Face roared and you heard rustling, a cluster of footsteps, cries and whispers in fear. 

The three escorted the group and you hid behind the furthest corner. None of the Villains caught sight of you but a couple of hostages did. They sent you pleading looks filled with terror and tears. You put a finger to your lips, nodding at them. It was the most assurance you could give. "Oh how I do wish it was time for tea!" Jervis almost whined to himself as the group headed upstairs. You had to follow them, you knew you did but the Batman was specific, focus on Jervis. Although you couldn't bring yourself to leave the building without those hostages guaranteed safety. You were also very conscious of the tracker attached to your shirt. If Batman entered through this floor, there was a chance the other three would catch on. 

Maybe it was a terrible decision but it was what you came up with at the time. You'd have to follow them up there and you'd have to get Jervis to follow you. You considered getting his attention and making a run for the stairs but then you'd run into the other villains and the hostages. Then an idea struck you. If you could get Jervis' attention for a couple of minutes, letting those upstairs be settled and then come up there, they'd think nothing of it. Then your remembered Edward saying ten minutes. Ten minutes, you could do that. 

You picked up a tiny stone from the doorway, it was small enough and heavy enough to make a noise but not too much noise as to alert upstairs. You tossed it and it bounced off the opposite wall with a 'clack'. It got Jervis' attention, you heard him approaching. "Little mouse? Little door mouse?" He stood at the door looking at the stairs before turning in the other direction. At the same time you moved forward before running off as quietly as you could. With some luck, he seemed to catch a glimpse of the blonde hair. "Alice!?" Jervis' voice rose slightly with excitement and wonder. He moved forward.  He turned the corner and headed down the corridor, looking into a few rooms every so often.  "Curiouser and curiouser!" He said in awe. "Alice, is that you?" 

Minutes passed of you hiding and Jervis still hunting for you. Although he never ran towards you. That was odd but it seemed he was also growing more concerned that you weren't real meaning you'd have to take things up a notch. "Don't hide from me, Alice!" Jervis said weepily. " “Who am I? Ah, that's the great puzzle!" You said passing the hallway before him. Jervis' face lit up. "Alice! It is you!" "Off with their heads!" You whispered loudly, the corridor carrying your voice. You waited until he was turning the corner before you turned another corner. Heading to the stairs. 

You stood by the stairs waiting for him. As he turned the corner, he was almost taken aback that you didn't disappear. He slowed down, half way down the corridor and almost uncertain- trying to read your expression. "It is not time for tea yet, Alice..." You pressed a finger to your lips. "We're late, so very late..." You turned to the stairs hurrying up them but still trying to be quiet. "Alice! Come back!" You heard Jervis hurry after you. You quickly moved into another office, closing the door behind you, matching the others. This time hiding in a cupboard. 

Jervis looked around, seeing nothing but dim corridors and closed doors. "Alice?" Jervis whispered in a singing voice.  Suddenly Edward and Jonathan turned the corner before him. Edward sighed. "That was eight minutes but I suppose it's the best you can do." Edward rolled his eyes. He moved towards a new set of stairs whilst Jonathan lingered, his eyes on Jervis. Jervis quicky hushed him. "Alice is here!" "Jervis, we've been through this. Alice isn't here. She may be in wonderland." Jonathan replied with ease.  "I must insist Mr Crane, we cannot delay! Alice is hiding! I haven't the slightest idea why!" 

You slowly climbed out of the cupboard to see Batman watching you from the opposite building. He nodded to you, giving you the signal to get out. If Jervis follows you. It's a success but don't let anyone catch you. You nodded back before slowly opening the door. You quietly moved for the stairs that went downstairs but your blood ran cold when you found both Jonathan and Jervis down the hall in front of you, the stairs being to your right. 

Jervis lit up in glee once again and you stood in complete fest, both Jonathan and Jervis staring at you. You should have made a run for it. You were internally screaming at yourself to move, but you didn't paralysed under their gazes. "Do you see Mr Crane!? Alice is here!" Jonathan's faces changed to a sinister smirk. "I do see Jervis." He responded as though talking to a child. You had to do something and fast. Words tumbled out before you could stop them. "Hatter, you didn't comply with the Red Queens demands." Jervis looked surprised, whether it was because you spoke or because of your statement, you couldn't be sure. "Demands!?" Jervis echoed in surprise. "Whatever do you mean, Alice!?" "The Red Queen ordered that you came alone, Hatter. It's a very important matter!" You responded. "I do not recall!" Whilst fear remained etched upon your features, you willed yourself to look more disappointed. "Now I have to go. Back to wonderland, I must go." Your hands moved to your neck. "The queen will have my head...I believe so." Jonathan chuckled marching forward.  "Come with me Jervis, back to Wonderland. It's become quite strange." You said before sprinting for the stairs. 

Within seconds Jervis and Scarecrow were outside the building, just in time to see you fall to the ground with a screech as Batman landed inches away from you. By the time you had unshielded your face, the two were out cold. You weren't sure what Batman had done to put them unconscious but you had no time to act as the GCPD, filed into the building guns at the ready but remaining quiet. "Floor three." You told Commissioner Gordon who led you into a police car. You moved for the make up wipes Gordon had kept for you, exhaustion overtaking you. Gordon, however, stopped you. "Sorry, (Y/N), I'm afraid you're not done yet. We'll need you to keep going in Arkham." "For what?" You asked. "Just trust us, it's Batman's idea. It won't be too long." You sighed. Almost immediately when you were asked to change into your next outfit. However you were exhausted. How did anyone, hero or villains do this almost every night? How did the Arkham staff deal with the criminally insane day in and out? 

“Imbeciles!” Edward spat in annoyance. “Where were you!?”  “Shut. Up.” Jonathan groaned rubbing his aching head. “The batman attacked us and we had an intruder. It turns out ‘Alice’ was very much real.”  “What?” Two-Face grumbled.  “We had company.” Jonathan replied gruffly. “Unbelievable!” Edward huffed.  “Alice...” Jervis said weepily to himself.  “Welcome back!” The Joker cried out before letting out a maniacal laugh.  “Shut it, clown!” Two-Face snapped.  “That was quick.” Someone else said, it sounded like it could have been Penguin. 

With a series of buzzing the doors opened. Jervis' eyes widened as you came in. His Alice, you were still here! You were dressed in a nurses uniform, moving to his cell and stopping before the door. "Alice!" You shifted your weight uncomfortable as Jervis clambered to his feet, hands pressed against the cell door. "Alice! You're here!" "That's not Alice, you moron!" Edward snapped in annoyance from behind you. "That's the same person from back at the building. Jervis saw them." Jonathan smirked. "Well what the hell are they doing here!? Here to gloat!?" Edward said icily in response. "Alice-!" "Jervis." Jonathan interrupted with a firm tone. "That isn't Alice. They're fooling you. They're pretending." "We're all mad here." You said simply as though it would have made sense for a response. However Jervis seemed to believe it. "No, Mr Crane! I assure you! I know! I know! It's my dear Alice who has come to say hello!" "He's so stupid." Edward said to himself. Jervis looked around you, eyes narrowing on Edward. "There's no need to be rude! That's not the right attitude!" "Hatter?" You gained his attention once more. "You're my friend aren't you?" "A friend, a friend! A friend until the end!" "The Red Queen demands answers. It'll be off with my head if I don't have her answers." You continued. "I need to know what you were doing there...with them." "Don't tell them!" Edward said sharply. "It's a lie." Jonathan warned Jervis. Even Jervis looked uncertain so you tried harder.  "Hatter." You reached out between the bars grabbing hold of his arm. 

Jervis looked stunned and even you froze when you realised what you had done. "Hatter, I've trusted you since I met you. I need you to trust me." "Working for the Red Queen is trouble, dear Alice. This is what happens when you're without me." Jervis said, any childlike tones in his voice were long gone. You nodded. "When you're better, you'll be back. Until then...it's only for a little while. So please...please tell me, what your plan was?" "Jervis!" Jonathan snapped but Jervis didn't acknowledge him. "Mr Crane needed test subjects to test his new formula-" "Shut up!" Edward yelled. "Damn it to hell!" Jonathan seethed. "We're planning something big Alice. Perhaps after that, we can free you from the Red Queen!" Jervis finished. You nodded, pressing him to keep going. "Alice? Why did the Red Queen choose you?" It was fake, that you couldn't forget but you couldn't help but wonder the same thing. More specifically, why did the Batman choose you? You took a moment to respond. "For the same reason, a Raven is like a Writing desk." You said softly. "I haven't the faintest idea." You whispered. 

"Do you enjoy playing mind games with someone who is mentally ill?" Jonathan, now sounding significantly more contained, asked you. You didn't look at him but he continued. "Or perhaps you won't be able to sleep tonight?" He was trying to guilt trip you. That you knew, you also knew it was working. You checked the pocket watch you had been given before stuffing it back in your pocket. Five minutes were up. You were out of time. "Gotta go." You said quietly. "Where?" Jervis looked alarmed. "I had to speak to you but I was only given so much time. Now it's time to go back to Wonderland." You gave him a small smile, turning on your heel and leaving. You felt Jervis' eyes on your back the entire time, until you were out of sight.

[janekfan]

IF you are still taking prompts...would you consider something precanon with Jon and Tim? tim's been trying to befriend an isolated/lonely researcher jon that no one's a fan of, sees him sick or being bothered by someone or any one of our usual terrible scenarios and is immediately like 'is anyone gonna take care of this man??'

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27650999

Tim flipped his pen around in his fingers, internally cheering when he executed the trick shot over his thumb, and kept an eye on Research’s newest recruit. The tiny man, stuffy and pompous and peculiar, had only been with them a little over a week and from day one Tim marked him as a challenge.

He would become this angry and diminutive fellow’s best friend, so help them both.

Currently, one Jonathan Sims was balanced on the tips of his patent leather brogues, stretching up for a volume he could never hope to reach and Tim, seeing his moment of opportunity, allowed his shadow to fall over him as he easily retrieved it for him.

“Tim. Tim Stoker.” He gave over the book along with a beaming grin and an introduction, holding a hand out for him to shake and lifting a brow when all Jon did was glare skeptically at his open palm, arms tightening around his prize.

“Sims.” Imperiously, with the slightest lift of his chin. “Jon. Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Stoker.” If Tim had been quicker on the uptake, he would have replied with the customary that was my father, but as it was he found himself faced with the stiff line of his back as he walked swiftly deeper into the stacks.

He was awkward and prickly, for sure, there was no getting around that, but knowledgeable and worked hard at his job, harder than Tim currently was anyway with this quest to focus on. Jon kept his head down, literally, at his desk he was nigh folded in half for most of the shift, not even stopping for lunch most of the time unless something broke his hyperfocus and he caught sight of the clock. No wonder he was so scrawny, just skin and bone beneath his crisp starched shirts and prim jumpers. So Tim began leaving snacks behind; a piece of fruit, bottle of water, cereal bar, a bit of chocolate, and it gave him no end of amusement each and every time Jon noticed. Feet up on his own desk, Tim would watch Jon glance around, ignoring the irritated looks of their coworkers while he tried to puzzle out who kept doing it and the first time he actually took a bite tasted of sweet, sweet victory.

Time passed, Tim finally convinced Jon to call him by his first name and was soundly told off for attempting to call him Jonny. He learned of his preference for tea over coffee, that he was raised by his grandmother, and feared spiders absolutely, having been the unfortunate recipient of a harmless office prank. It was no secret that Jon was not well liked and didn’t seem to care. He became the butt of many a joke and impersonation. That posh accent, put on or not, was too good to pass up and his lack of social acumen didn’t help his case even though he was smart as a whip and picked up any slack by virtue of staying late.

“Bags under your eyes are looking heavy today.”

“Hm? Oh, Tim.” Jon rubbed a knuckle under the rim of his glasses. “Yes, I. I haven’t been sleeping well.” He dropped into his chair heavily, pressing fingertips against his temples and massaging them.

“Take a sick day. You’ve put in enough over time.” Jon craned his neck, blinked up at him with a confused look, as though he were trying to figure out a difficult puzzle.

“M’alright.” Mumbling, the wood grain suddenly seemed very interesting. “You should get to work though.”

“Whoa! Not my boss there yet, Jonny-boy!” It elicited a familiar, nettlesome response and put Tim’s heart at ease. Jon probably was just tired.

“Oi, you daft twit, watch where you’re going.” Tim turned the corner on his return from lunch to find Jon scrambling amongst a sprawl of papers, frantically trying to collect them up.

“S’sorry, I’ll help--”

“Done enough, sod off.” Jon froze, muttered another apology and handed off the pages he’d gathered together.

“You alright?” Sidling up to him, Tim did him the favor of ignoring the trembling line of Jon’s mouth. “Guy’s just being a prick ‘cause his wife’s leavin’ him.”

“Fine, m’fine, Tim.” And in a moment he was, back at his desk and pointedly thumbing through a file and pretending to cross check his notes.

The next morning was no better and Jon arrived under the wire, hair unkempt and tie just slightly crooked. Very unlike him and this time he watched as Jon let his head tip forward for a few seconds, bracing himself on the arms of his chair before retreating into the forest of bookshelves. If left to his own devices, Tim was sure he’d end up ticking the librarians off again. He tended to leave a mess in his wake when searching for what he needed and when he didn’t reappear by noon, Tim went off in search of him, expecting to find him leafing through some manuscript or another and instead discovering him cross legged in the shadows, eyes closed, head tipped back and resting on a shelf. There was a short stack of books pertaining to his research by his knee but his hands were empty and still in his lap.

“What’s wrong?” Jon made a vague gesture. “Headache?”

“Mm. Didn’t mean to, to...uh.”

“End up on the floor?”

“Mm.

“You should go home.” The very suggestion drew his features into a frown and he cracked open dark lashes just enough for Tim to catch a glimpse of glassy brown.

“I’ve barely worked here a month, I. I can’t. I can’t skive off.”

“You’re ill, Jon. That’s not--Look, look.” Tim crouched beside him. “It’s okay to call off sick.” It had the opposite effect, and Tim had to steady Jon after he struggled to his feet with his armful of books. “Jon.”

“No, no. I’ll be over whatever this is by tomorrow.”

Tim sighed. Jon was, in fact, not over whatever he’d come down with, and was now stifling a series of wet, breathless coughs in the crook of his elbow, unaware of the dirty looks the other researchers were throwing his way. The harder Tim tried to make him see reason, the harder Jon resisted, insisting that he was fine, it was allergies or something else but he wasn’t feeling ill enough to miss work.

“I’m holding you up as we speak.” Sluggish, Jon’s eyes tracked Tim’s arm from where it was attached to his shoulder all the way down to the firm grip he had on his bicep to keep him from listing even further.

“Jus’...bit dizzy…”

“Yeah, that’s not a good thing.”

“I can, I can still do my job.” And Tim wasn’t quite sure who he was trying to convince. “I can.” Tim allowed him his arm back, not commenting on his barely controlled fall into his desk chair or the soft groan of pain that ended in another fit, weaker than the last.

“I know you can, I just want to see you take care of yourself.”

“Why?” Bloodshot eyes narrowed in suspicion and Tim didn’t know what to make of it.

“We’re friends?”

“We’re not.” Tim didn’t let it discourage him or take it personally. Clearly, Jon wasn’t well, was trying to convince himself that he was, that he didn’t need help. Besides, Tim looked on the bright side, Jon didn’t sound completely sure.

“Alright. Well, as your not-friend, I’m advising you to at least make yourself some tea.”

“I’ll take it under advisement.”

“Christ, Sims!”

“I, I’m sorry, let me, let me help.”

“You’ve done quite enough.” It seemed to Tim that wherever Jon was lately he was in some sort of trouble and when he veered into the breakroom to check on the situation his heart went out to the Lilliputian researcher. Jon had dropped and shattered a mug full of hot water, apparently splashing the man currently yelling at him. Tim took in his trembling hands, the flush high on his vacant face, and the unbearable vulnerability, feeling those big brother instincts rise like a tide. He caught him up again by the arm, drawing him away from the mess and the mumbling.

“You’re like a furnace, buddy.” Gently, with a cupped hand, Tim lifted his jaw and tried to catch his slippery gaze. The heat cradled in his palm was scorching.

“M’not.”

“Now you’re just being contrary.” He led him away with his fingers just at the small of his back stopping at their desks long enough to gather up his things and call for a cab. He balked, hesitating before stepping in and Tim encouraged him with another careful push, helping him back out again when his knees threatened to give. Guiding him inside the flat he dropped their stuff by the door and looked around with a pensive hum. “Next time we’ll go to mine.” Under his breath. Jon’s was cold and not well lit, sparsely furnished with a second hand couch and mismatched tables. It was clean if spartan and somehow very Jon.

“Tim?” Thready, tired, sinking into the couch where Tim deposited him.

“Hey, there. Back in a tick. I’m gonna get you that tea.” Assuming he had any. Assuming he had anything at all. But there was a bottle of paracetamol on the kitchen counter beside an open box tea and a bottle of honey. “Take these, drink this down.” Dimly, Jon followed his instructions, tugging at his buttons and Tim shooed him away to change, surprised when he returned in soft, overlarge clothes. For as prim and proper as he tried to be at work, Jon was a complete bum at home. “Should go to sleep.” Petulant, Jon shook his head, flopping back on the couch and wrapping himself up in a knitted throw like a burrito. “Why not?” This side of his coworker was so soft and unexpected and Tim couldn’t stop himself.

“M’not tired.” Soft, unexpected, and childish.

“Uh huh.” Tim ordered in, something spicy and brothy, and praised Jon’s progress before tugging him, cajoling him into lying his head in his lap. Bad telly droned on, half lidded eyes blinked slow, and Tim was reminded painfully of nights and weekends and mornings spent this exact same way with someone else. Someone gone.

“Why’re you doing this?” Tim dug his fingers into unruly curls, grinning stupidly when Jon melted like a scruffed cat.

“We’re buddies, buddy.” Jon laughed, just an exhale between parted lips.

Mid afternoon the following day Tim proclaimed his work done, confirming it when Jon’s cactus like demeanor made a reappearance with all his fussing. After inputting his number into his cell phone himself, he ruffled already sleep mussed hair, smirking at Jon’s futile attempt to set it right.

“Call if you need anything.”

“I will.” Tim knew he wouldn’t, but it made him feel better anyway. It was the weekend. Jon looked miles better, and he was set up for success with all his tea and meds and snacks within easy reach. Leftover soup waited in the fridge for him to heat later. “Stop fretting, Tim.” But he could hear the thread of affection buried under all the exasperation.

And if he was imagining it, well. He was ever an optimist.

Monday. And Tim was sat on the corner of Jon's desk shoving chocolate digestives into his mouth and rifling through his notes having already ignored one request to leave off.

“You don’t have many friends, do you Jon?” Jon pushed his glasses up from where they’d slipped down the bridge of his nose and selected a biscuit for himself.

“Never needed many.”

“Do you have any?” Jon snatched the pages out of his hand and brushed away any stray crumbs, offering Tim a shy smile.

“I’ve you, don’t I?”