#Okay now time to go try to finish secrets can kill in 3 hours | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aliteralsemicolon · 11 months ago

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I'll wait for your love - 18+

See part 1 | See Part 2 | Part 3 of We can't be friends (wait for your love)

The only thing you’re sure of is that you don’t want things to go back to the way they were and Spencer agrees that change may be for the best.

Spencer Reid X Fem! Reader

DISCLAIMER I do not consent to my work being used to feed/train AI and/or re-posted anywhere by anybody else This story is NSFW and contains graphic depictions + detailed descriptions of adult content. It is intended for mature audiences only, minors do not interact! You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read.

WARNINGS: Panic attack mentioned, slight PTSD depictions, case details (barely) mentioned, alcohol mentioned like once. Smut (not the focus at all): making out, nipple play, clitoral stimulation, praise, use of pet names (angel, pretty girl, etc). Proceed at your own risk.

Word count: 10.4K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.

Avoiding Spencer wasn’t overly difficult on the flight back to D.C. You weren’t entirely sure how to face him after he risked his life for you, so you just pretended to be asleep the whole time. You even took a separate jeep from the tarmac to avoid a car ride back with him, and almost made a clean getaway to your car in the parking lot when Hotch stopped you.

“I’m sorry to hold you back, but I do need the Anchorage report on my desk before tomorrow morning. It can’t be put off any longer.”

He looked extremely apologetic and you understood. You’re grateful he gave you as much time as he has. That’s how you ended up stuck at work til the later hours of the evening. Besides the few workaholics, security guards and janitors roaming around the corridors, the only other person there with you is Spencer, oddly. Even Hotch has gone home. You’ve spent more time stalking the doctor work through the pile of case files on his desk than you have writing in the one on yours. Only when you're caught do you look away.

“Everything okay?” The innocent curiosity in his big eyes further reddens the hot embarrassment in your cheeks.

“Fine.” You mutter, dipping your head back down to the open page.

You’re never going to get this damn file done if you can’t get him out of your head, and him being barely three feet away from you doesn’t help. It’s very difficult for you to get your words from pen to paper. Anchorage wasn’t haunting you like it did at first. It was a traumatic event, yes, but alone isn’t the cause of this…block. Obviously the reality that you’re leaving is starting to dawn on you. Somehow your mind has linked this case with your departure and finishing this report makes it more official than your actual resignation.

Plus, as much as you definitely hate Spencer, you do did care for him. The shock of him almost getting himself killed in front of you is another thing occupying your mind. It’s barely been twenty four hours since then, it’s still fresh. You can see him stand and grab his satchel in your peripheral vision, he’s preparing to leave. There are a lot of memories attached to that brown leather bag.

Things he would carry in there for you when you forgot your own bag.

You don’t make it obvious that you’re watching him gather his things in small glances.

He bought extra hair clips for you to keep in there because you would often forget those too.

It’s over now. No point in dwelling on it. You shake your head once he’s out of sight, trying to force him out of your thoughts. Now that he’s gone you’re hoping to actually be able to get some work done.

He taught you chess with the mini chess set he keeps in there. You discovered that you actually quite liked chess and would ask to play with him all the time. It was also his ‘secret’ weapon to help you calm down.

You roll your eyes to push back the tears from the memories that refuse to stop playing. This can wait until you get home, it’s not important.

It wasn’t the chess set that helped you feel calm. Spencer could win chess against you in just a few moves, but he would deliberately stretch out the game so you could have room to breathe. The longer the game, the more time you had to spend focused on the moves and slow down your thoughts. You could open up at your own pace. He would let you feel in control.

It doesn’t matter if he’s near you or not, Spencer has a way of invading your headspace wherever he is. Your train of thoughts is interrupted with a light thud on your right. You covertly roll the tears away again and turn to examine the source of the noise. A mug of coffee placed on your desk by

“Spencer?” You sputter breathlessly.

“Sorry. I know you told me to stop. This is the last time I promise.”

You don’t fully comprehend what he’s going on about, not expecting him to be here at all.

“I thought you left.”

“I did– was. I was leaving, but I thought I’d make you some coffee before I go. Since you’ve been here a while.” He awkwardly explains.

You steadily direct your attention back to the mug, reeling in what was happening.

“Before you get mad, this really is just a cup of coffee from a colleague who thought it might help keep you energised if you’re planning to stay late. There’s no ulterior motive…”

He continues rambling but you’re not mentally present to hear any of it.

He made you coffee.

Even though you’ve been nothing short of an absolute bitch. Granted he was a bitch first, but the point is that he’s still thinking of your well being regardless. You can’t hide your tears from him this time. It’s the soft buzz of your name that draws you back to him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you! I’ll take the coffee–”

His panicked sentiment is cut short when you jump out of your seat and shove past him. The breakdown you’ve been avoiding hits you like a ton of bricks. You run into the nearest empty office and he runs after you, making it past the door before you can lock him out.

“Spencer p–please get out! I’m fine.” You’re pacing in the same spot, fanning away the stream falling down your cheeks, hyperventilating.

He doesn’t respond to you, instead cautiously taking your hand in his. You’re in too frenzied a state to care. He guides you to sit on the couch against the wall and you blindly go along with it, still trying to get yourself together.

You want to stop the tears, but you can’t do that until you get your breathing under control. He slowly wraps his arms around you and you slump into him, head buried in his chest. You should try to fight it, you should push him away, but you can’t. Right now, surrounded by his scent, held in his arms, you don’t want to move. It’s not something you can properly explain, but the feeling is so comforting that nothing else matters. All you know is that you’re safe and that’s enough for you to allow yourself to finally break down.

The first few sobs are loud, like there’s not enough air in the world to stabilise your lungs. They fizzle out into silent whimpers and you grasp onto the fabric of his sweater, balling it in your fist, just letting yourself feel. Spencer still hasn’t said a word. His right hand is rubbing circles on your back and his left hand is gently scratching just above the nape of your neck.

You stay like that for a while, even after you’ve stopped crying. It’s been so long since you’ve been in this little bubble with him and you don’t want it to end. You pull away when you feel the strap of his satchel across his stomach as your hand drops to his lap. He visually follows every move you make.

“You’re still wearing your bag.” You sniffle, leaning back.

“I am.” He whispers, understanding that you no longer want to be touched.

He stays in his original position; facing you, but now with one arm resting on top of the backrest and the other idly in his lap. You’ve moved so that now you're facing ahead with your back leaning against the cushions, pulling your knees into your chest. You had never found comfort in silence until the first time you experienced it with Spencer. Staying huddled, you divert your eyes towards him. There’s a distinct wet patch on his shirt. It’s less visible on his sweater-vest, but it’s there.

“Your shirt’s wet now.” It’s almost impossible to make out what you’re saying with your mouth muffled against your arm, but of course, Spencer manages anyway.

“It’ll dry.” He smiles, tone delicate.

“But– germs.” You choke a little due to your previous crying.

“It can be washed.” He’s using his comforting voice again.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

The silence resumes. Neither of you dares to move, trying to freeze this moment. It’s obvious that you didn’t grasp how badly you craved each other’s presence.

“D–do…” The initial sound grabs Spencer’s full attention again. You take a deep breath, hoping he wants to stay here as much as you do. “Do you still carry that little chess set with you?”

A small, airy chuckle comes out from him.

“Would you like to play?”

“Please.”

He creates some more space between you and begins to set up the board once he’s pulled it out of his satchel. You move to accommodate the set up, now facing him with your legs crossed on the couch and shoes abandoned on the floor. You wait for him to make the first move. After the opening moves the game doesn’t seem to get any harder and you know he’s throwing the game. You’re okay at chess, but he’s obviously a lot better.

“You’re going easy on me.” You mumble.

“Because you’re not even trying.” He replies blithely.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Like I said, you’re making it too easy.” He gently teases.

“Not that. Helping me. You hate me, remember?” You say it like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

“I don’t hate you.”

“You literally told me that you hate me.” You chuckle, numb to the hurt that sentence once brought you.

“So did you.” He counters in defence, trailing your hand as it carelessly moves your queen to her demise.

“I was angry.”

“So was I.” He spared your queen, in turn leaving his king vulnerable.

“It doesn’t matter now…” You don’t finish the rest of your sentence but Spencer still hears it.

You’re leaving soon anyway.

“It matters to me.” If he left something unsaid you choose to ignore it.

“You’re letting me win.” You whisper, feeling the urge to cry some more, but there’s no tears left.

He doesn’t make a move, bringing the game to a halt. He’s waiting for you to meet his eyes. You know what he’s going to say.

“Spencer, don't.” You beseech.

“Why?” If you looked at him instead of the board you’d see the way his eyes are pleading at you.

“There’s no point.” This time it’s your voice that cracks.

You're looking everywhere else and it makes you too aware of your surroundings. Like how the couch is lined up directly under a window that anyone could peek into.

“Leaving is not the only option.” He solicits.

He regards your discomfort and closes the blinds from where he’s sitting, pulling you back into the privacy of your bubble.

“There’s nothing that you can say to make things go back to how they were.” You bite the inside of your cheek, fiddling with a random pawn.

It’s not a proper two way conversation. You’re talking to yourself just as much as Spencer’s talking to you. You’re both trying to convince you of what you’re saying.

“Things don’t have to go back to how they were.” The squeaks in his soothing tone are starting to melt any resolve you have left.

“There’s no reason for me to stay.” You oppose, trying to make any argument stick.

“I can think of more reasons for you to stay than for you to go.”

There’s an underlying tension bubbling. Neither of you notice it over your desperate tug of war.

“I don’t think there’s anything that you can say to get me to stay.” Another baseless sentence meant more for you than for him.

“Give me one chance. One chance to convince you.” He can see your internal struggle at his request and he throws out one final plea to sway you. “For nothing more than closure.”

Closure.

You’ve spent months in turmoil over the hows and the what ifs, trying to conjure answers to questions that wouldn’t stop pestering you. You couldn’t turn him down even if you wanted to.

“Closure?” You repeat, eyes finally latching onto his.

“Closure.” He whispers back in reassurance.

“Even if you can’t convince me?” You caution, not wanting to give him false hope.

He doesn’t say anything, thinking over the scenario in his head. He simply nods and you mimic the action, blinking away the blur in your vision and dragging around chess pieces. It takes Spencer a second to figure out that you were moving them back to their default places.

“Okay new game.” You announce.

Spencer blinks in confusion, waiting for you to elaborate.

“I can ask you any question I want and you have to answer honestly. If by the end of the game I’m not convinced to stay, you back off for the remainder of my time here.” You pause for him to interject, but he doesn’t. “That means we stay away from each other, only talking when needed for work. Even then as cordially and professionally as possible. No more trying to make casual conversation or bringing me coffee or anything like that.”

“Till the end of the game?” He studies you.

“Yup.” You smack your lips together. “Til one of us checkmates the other.”

“This means you’ll actually give me a fair shot?”

“Between the two of us, I’m not the one known for cheating at games.” You jab, trying to ease the tension you could definitely feel now.

“I meant a fair shot at convincing you. As in you’ll seriously take what I have to say into account.” He discards your attempt.

“No, I know. The opportunity was just too good to pass up.”

He can tell you’re trying to hold back a laugh from the small smile on your lips. It’s as adorable to him now as it was the first time he saw it.

“Any rules before we start?” He asks, unable to hide his own smile.

“Only that we have to be honest.” You answer, immediately dropping your smile.

“Okay.” He agrees, smiling slightly wider.

“Okay.” You nod again.

When he finally makes the first move it hits you that you don’t actually know where to start. Theoretically, you know what you want to ask, but don’t know how to ask. You don’t know if you should jump straight into the questions or start with some ice breakers. Nothing is said for about four to five moves when Spencer pauses the game.

“Are you going to ask any questions or have you decided that you just want to play one last game for your closure?”

“Huh?” You snap your vision away from the board. “Oh, sorry. I was thinking.”

“Do you want to return to the game after thinking of a few questions to ask?” He raises his brow and relaxes his jaw.

“No, no, we don’t need to do that. Let’s keep playing, the questions will come to me.” You brush off his suggestion and motion for him to continue with his turn. He doesn’t.

“What?” Your voice raises and you scrunch your nose from perplexity.

“Sorry, it’s just that you’ve put us on a time limit and this is how you’re using our time?” He airs, failing to conceal his amusement.

“Well excuse me if I don’t exactly have a list of questions ready to go for you.” You narrow your eyes in annoyance.

“Why would you suggest this if you don’t have any questions?” He tries to hold back his laugh and ends up snorting as a result.

“I have questions!” You jabber, unable to maintain your annoyance. “I don’t know what– where do I even start?”

“Start with whichever one comes to you first.” He shrugs, finally making his move.

A lot of things come to mind when you think about it. The thing that screams the loudest twitches a nerve and you become instantly irate.

“Okay.” You nod, tone harsh and flat. “Let’s start with whatever the fuck possessed you on the last case. What was your thought process when you put your life in danger like that?”

He almost gets whiplash from the change in mood, his face literally reads ‘are you serious?’.

“He was going to shoot you.” He states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“I was wearing a vest, I would’ve been fine.” You contend.

“I wasn’t willing to take that risk.”

“Risk?! You literally put yourself in danger for no reason!”

“I think it was a pretty good reason actually!”

“Spencer that was–” You stop yourself with a grumble, inhaling deeply.

“It was instinctual, okay?” He softly explains. “I saw him aim the gun at you and I just reacted.”

“Well it was a stupid reaction!” You whine.

“I’m not going to apologise for it.”

The glare you give is piercing, you bite the inside of your cheek to hold your tongue before you say something you can’t take back. Spencer throws his head back and sighs.

“But I will promise not to do it again.” He adds, not fully intending to keep it.

This was slowly turning into another argument, both of you shooting back too fast with your responses. You aren’t in the mood for another argument. So you redirect your attention to the game.

“Check.” You mumble, buying yourself time to think of another question. “Why are you here so late anyway?”

“I wanted to finish some work before tomorrow morning.” He replies, moving his king to safety.

“Yeah, what’s up with that? You could’ve done those tomorrow as well.” Your voice softens out of curiosity.

“I wanted to get them finished in case there were more tomorrow.” It’s not his best excuse. You don’t know what he means by that. He doesn’t know what he means by that. He’s lying to you.

You scoff, poking your tongue against your cheek. “Wow. You really can’t not cheat during a game, can you?”

“Right, sorry.” Spencer clears his throat after the initial confusion clears. Complete honesty, it was your only rule. “I wanted to be here.”

“For…” You egg on, purposely rolling your ‘r’s to prompt him.

“I wanted to make sure that you were okay.” He admits, looking away from you.

“Why?” You’re genuinely puzzled at the admission. “You’re the one who almost died. I mean, it was stupid and your fault, but still. If anything I should be checking up on you.”

“Check.” That’s the only response he gives you. He hopes that you don’t push further, but he knows that you will.

His lack of response only forces you to think about the possible reasons by yourself, using context clues to figure it out. You are a profiler, after all.

“Is this because of the panic attack?” You note how his jaw twitches when he swallows at the mention. “It is! You seriously chose to spend your night stuck at the office because of that?”

“What else was I supposed to do? It’s not like you would talk to me, you literally refused to even look at me!” He gripes.

“Spencer I think anyone would panic if they got tackled to the ground by a six foot man without warning. I’m fine.” You giggle.

“What happened to complete honesty?” It’s his turn to glare at you.

“I am being honest!” You protest.

“Lying by omission is not being honest.” He rolls his eyes.

“Okay Mr. know-it-all, what am I lying about?” You challenge.

“Seriously? You don’t remember?” His approach is doubtful and he just stares at your dazed expression.

“Fucking spit it out already, Spence!”

Any sarcasm he had geared up for a response dissipates at your use of his nickname. He’s heard it plenty in the last few months, but not from you. For a moment things feel like they never changed. It stings in a bittersweet kind of way.

“You sc–screamed– uh–” He clears his throat and rapidly blinks, his nose twitches in the process. “During that panic attack, you repeatedly asked me to stay with you. Y–you, uh– you said you didn’t think you could li–”

“Stop. Stop. Stop talking.” Your voice quavers and you hold your hand up, ears burning up. “I don’t wanna know.”

You don’t know why it makes your heart race the way it does, you don’t even remember it. He waits a while before speaking up again, wanting to be careful about how he goes about the topic without you shutting down.

“May I ask you a question?” He voices professionally, trying to make the conversation less personal so you don’t feel cornered.

You nod, moving your king out of check.

“Is there anybody you will talk to about Anchorage? Without pushing them away?” He keeps the game going as he speaks to provide you with a distraction.

“Woah– Anchorage? Where is that coming from?” You titter.

“I want you to remember that we promised to be honest and I won’t push if you ask me to stop, but I know for a fact that you aren’t okay.” He waits for you to stop him but you don’t, even though you know roughly what he’s going to say. “Panic attacks aside, your avoidant behaviour around the topic, inability to focus, being easily startled, you’re showing signs of PTSD.”

“Spence, c’mon. I don’t need to talk to anyone. I already passed the psych evals.” You attempt to make light of the situation with carefully chosen words so you’re not lying. It was a futile attempt, you know he’s not willing to budge when he doesn’t give you anything more than a blank stare.

“Why does this matter so much to you?” You sigh in defeat. “Whatever happened…that’s a part of the job, you know that.”

“I also know, first hand, that it takes over your life. You can’t run from it, no matter how much you try to.” His tone is soft as he speaks, yet you feel like he’s accusing you.

“I am not running! Why would you say I’m running?” You object with a high voice, shrugging your shoulders. “And it’s not taking over my life. Also, check.”

“Because that’s what you do when you don’t want to deal with something.” He states point blank.

“Woah– so– that was entirely unnecessary.” You stammer, unable to deny it.

“I’m not criticising you. I just happen to know you and I know that you have a tendency to run from your problems. And it is taking over your life.”

“You’re profiling!” You gasp.

“You know that it’s not something we can just turn off! No matter how much we pretend like we can.” He waves his hands defensively.

You can’t argue with that, your lips twisting to the side.

“You want me to be honest?” You murmur sheepishly.

“Always. Please.” He responds gently, wanting you to be as comfortable as possible.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I spend a good chunk of my day actively avoiding thinking about it, but somehow I always end up thinking about it anyway. At times it’s like I can almost feel…” You breathe in instinctively. “This is the first time in months I’ve been able to do anything without it lingering in the back of my mind. Can we please talk about it another time? I would rather talk about other things…”

Another time.

“...right now.”

You’ve implied that there will be another time to talk and he definitely caught it, even if he pretends that he hasn’t. You don’t even know if what you said is true, you got too comfortable with the familiarity of his friendship. It was something you said out of habit from back when you two actually were friends. Not even a full hour's worth of conversation with him and he’s already worming his way back in.

“Um–” You drag yourself further back on the couch, creating more physical distance.

“That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it at all.” Spencer senses your urgency to leave the situation and jumps into damage control. “It’s your turn.”

“No, um, I should– I should go. Thanks for doing thi– helping me.” You turn away from him, aiming for your shoes and ready to bolt.

“The game’s not over.” He points out.

“Yes it is.” You declare, still in the process of putting on your shoes.

“You said til checkmate.” He huffs, shifting out of his seated position.

“I forfeit!” You throw your arms out in a shrugging manner, standing up after him.

“I can’t believe this. You’re going back on your word!” He doesn’t even raise his voice. He’s just hurt.

“What’s the point, Spencer? Closure doesn’t mean anything, I’m still leaving! You can’t magically change my mind!” You yell, getting louder with each sentence.

“I disagree. I think that you’re running again!” He blocks your way and yells back, maintaining his volume throughout.

“Maybe you should think less!” You suggest, still yelling. Sarcasm is your defence mechanism when you have no actual defence.

“You know what else I think?” He continues, emphasising the word ‘think’ every time he says it out of spite. “I think that you agreed to this thinking I won’t be able to convince you, but I am!”

“I don’t care what you–”

“I think you don’t want to finish the game that you started, because you’re afraid to ask the harder questions!”

“Stop.” You command, but it doesn’t deter him.

“I think that you’re scared to hear my answers because then it all becomes too real for you–”

“Stop!” The words almost get stuck in your throat, but you choke them out. “You’re wrong.”

“If I’m wrong then prove it. To both of us.” He sits back down and motions to the board. “Ask the real questions.”

“I don’t need to prove anything, you’re wrong.” You uphold.

“So leave.” He challenges, knowing that you won’t be able to.

If you truly believed that he’s wrong you wouldn’t feel the need to prove it, but you do and he knows that. You walk back over to the couch, head nodding from irritation, tongue poking your cheek. You kick your shoes off with a bit of force and return to your earlier position across from him.

“Your move.” He reminds you as you settle in.

You don’t reply yet, but move your rook to set him up for the next move.

“Check.” He smugly states.

“Who was she?”

You don’t move, examining him close for any change in his behaviour. He obviously didn't anticipate that question first, snapping his sights back on you.

“Sorry?”

“The woman who greeted me at your door. That night at your apartment.”

“Charlotte.” He replies, holding your gaze to show you he’s got nothing to hide. “We met at the library a week before.”

“Are you guys together?” You break away first, diverting your eyes to the chess board and trying to seem unfazed when moving your knight.

“No, God, no.” He denies immediately.

“I don’t know, she seemed pretty cosy for someone you met a week prior.” You don’t mean to sound as snide as you come across.

“No, it wasn’t like that at all.” He shakes his head.

“You sure? Because I’m pretty sure I saw her mark you up with a kiss on your cheek before disappearing.” You don’t look at him, examining a captured pawn as you wait for him to make his move.

“Mark me up?” He cognizes it instantly. “Are you…jealous?”

“What? No!” You vehemently deny, your voice rising in several pitches.

“You are!” His eyes widen.

“I am not jealous.”

His jaw slacks and he lets out an amused scoff. He doesn’t say anything, making you feel the need to fill the silence.

“I only bring it up because…I know you have a thing with…germs.” Your words falter because of your own uncertainty and you want to dissolve into the fucking floor.

Spencer tries to suppress a smile by poking his tongue out slightly. If the atmosphere was lighter he’d tease you about it, but he doesn’t want to make you take off again. Still, he feels the need to clarify the events of the night.

“I don’t know why she kissed my cheek, it was completely random.” He takes his time saying it, still fighting a smile.

You swallow nervously and purse your lips to the side in response. One question answered and you only have new ones in its place. Did she stay the night? Did she sleep on the couch or on his bed? Did he see her again?

“I drove her home right after you left.” He can almost hear your thoughts.

“Was it a date?” You softly gulp again, unsure if you even have a right to know.

“Yes.” He hesitates.

“Oh.”

“I wanted to try out casual dating for once.” He chagrins. “I honestly don’t know how you did it, it’s not even fun.”

“No it’s not.” You chuckle dryly. “So no second date, I presume?”

“Definitely not. I was just stressed the whole time.” He chuckles with you.

“Take a shot of tequila before you go next time, it helps settle the nerves.” You joke, jumping to give him advice you hope he doesn’t take. You can’t help it, it’s what you’ve always done. Even if it goes against what you desire.

“While moderate consumption of tequila can help relax the nervous system, I will not be turning to alcohol for stress relief.”

“Then blast classical music while you get ready and give yourself a pep talk out loud, it’s actually really efficient–”

“There won’t be a next time. For a really long time, if ever.” He interjects, miffed at your insistence.

“You willingly plan on committing to lifelong celibacy?” You exclaim with a puzzled look. “Why?!”

Spencer laughs at how raw your reaction is. He didn’t plan on giving out any more details but, with that prompt he decides that it’s now or never.

“I don’t think any future dates will appreciate me picturing someone else in their place the whole time.”

Oh.

Both of you lock eyes at the same time. This is not a road you’re prepared to go back down, even if that’s literally the whole point of this conversation. You’re too stunned to reply and Spencer uses this as an opportunity to be elaborate. He doesn’t want any misunderstandings this time.

“I couldn’t stop pictur–”

“Shut up.” You blurt out the sentence in almost one word.

Your heart’s racing like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff. You’re flustered, every part of your body is heated from how terrified you are.

“Y–you don’t have t–t…you don’t owe m–me an explanation.” You try to elaborate, contradicting yourself and stumbling on your words.

“I want to.” He reads that you’re apprehensive but pushes regardless.

“Please don’t.” The tears that you thought had dried out were building again.

“Why ask if you won’t let me answer?”

You don’t have anything to say to that. Did you want answers? Yes. Still, you didn’t expect how hard they’d be to hear. He whispers your name and you scramble to think of your next move, and not in chess. You’re unable to even think about the game right now. You want to bolt, but you can’t even get yourself to move. So you deflect.

“Because it doesn’t matter.”

“I disagree.” Although his tone is subdued, the pace of his wording is faster. “I think it does matter and that’s why you’re afraid to hear it.”

He’s right but you can’t bring yourself to agree. This is only going to over-complicate an already complicated situation.

“It’s not enough.” Your voice cracks.

“How can it be if you won’t even give it a fair shot?”

“Fair?”

It comes out louder than you intended. His words trigger resentment within you and you snap.

“Nothing about any of this is fair! I mean, fucking hell, Spencer, four years. That’s how long we’ve been friends. I mean I’ve shared shit that I thought I would be taking to the fucking grave with you! You were my best friend for four fucking years and all it took was like, five seconds?”

You sob, softer than when you were first crying, but the frustration is clear. He reaches out to touch your hand, but you push his hand away.

“No!” You choke, sobbing harder when you try to compile your thoughts. “Five seconds to destroy all of it! It makes me wonder if everything we shared, our friendship, was it ever even that strong?”

Your anger simmers to sadness, as evident with how your yelling fades into whispering in the last sentence.

“I can’t even tell you when exactly those five seconds were. I mean, I know…but…I don’t. Where did it go wrong, Spence?”

“I don’t know.” Is all he can say after a beat of silence.

He knows exactly where it went wrong.

“Yeah, me neither!” You sniffle, immediately wiping a single tear that manages to escape. “So again, it doesn’t matter.”

“When you took it back.”

“What?”

“That’s where everything changed for me. You showed up at my apartment drunk, after your date with Nathan. Your exact words were ‘I mean as an amazing friend’.” His voice strains like he’s forcing himself to speak.

Your gaze falls, eyes darting everywhere as you try to jog your memory beyond the one sentence you remember.

“I don’t understand.” You croak.

“You know, if I wasn’t who I am, maybe you could love me the way I love you.” He chuckles bitterly, fighting back tears of his own. “That was– that was, uh, what you said before you took it back.”

“Spence, please…” You whine without sound, tilting your head back and chewing on your lip as a final attempt to stay composed.

“No, you wanted to know where it went wrong.” He laughs falsely to downplay his tears. “You can say it doesn’t matter all you want, but the fact is, it does matter. It matters to me and I won’t let you run from it anymore.”

You can’t look at him. Not with tears free falling down your face. You cup your hands together in your lap, pressing your fingers and nails together.

“You told me that I couldn’t love you.” You struggle to sound your words.

“I’m an idiot.” Another chuckle, but he sounds defeated. “When you said that, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to say that I do love you.”

You tearfully laugh at this admission.

“I only took it back because of what you said. I panicked. I thought I’d ruined things…which I guess, I still did.” Another laugh from you.

Spencer responds with the same regretful sound.

The irony spurs another fit of giggles amongst you, this one slightly longer and infinitely more rueful than the last. You look anywhere but at each other until it grows quieter.

“If you loved me, why the fuck would you tell me that I couldn’t love you?” You sound just as, if not more, defeated than him.

“Love.” Spencer corrects without missing a beat.

Your brows twitch up and your heart jumps.

“I was so hung up on every single part of your sentence that I didn’t know what to say first.” He proceeds to answer you without leaving much room to process what he said. “I wanted to tell you that I do love you. I love you as you are. Not as somebody else.”

“But you didn’t say any of that.” You ignore all his admissions, not fully comprehending.

“Like I said, I’m an idiot. I was in so much disbelief and that was the first thing that came out of my mouth.” He sullenly huffs.

You don’t reply, sniffling with your head down.

“For like a second, I had everything I wanted. Then you took it back and it was like my whole world had been ripped out from under me. In those five seconds, you’d given me a taste of what I’d spent four years convincing myself I couldn’t have and I just– I couldn’t go back after that.” He adds after a stillness.

After a short while, your focus shifts from your hands to the board in front of you. The game’s been long forgotten. You’re immersed in the conversation, in spite of how strenuous it is.

“I understand why you were distant, even mean, at first.” You snivel. “But after a while you just became downright cruel.”

Spencer doesn’t shy away from your gaze when you do look at him. His skin is as drenched from crying as yours is.

“I mean ‘I don’t want to see your face’? I know that I don’t really have a leg to stand on anymore, but, what the fuck Spencer?”

He doesn’t cringe any less with every reminder. He’s truly regretted the words since they left his mouth.

“I wanted to hurt you.” He reveals. “I thought you were being deliberately cruel and I wanted you to feel exactly how I was feeling.”

“Deliberately?”

He nods, hanging his head.

“I thought that you knew how I felt and were just trying to be funny or something.”

“Well I didn’t. I wasn’t.” You cut him off with a constricted voice.

“Even if you did, it’s not an excuse.” His eyes are glistening from the outpour of tears, but he still lifts his sights back to you. “I’m sorry.”

You don’t know how to acknowledge his apology at all. You’re not even angry anymore, all you feel is sorrow and regret for the way everything happened. An entire friendship down the drain due to an unfortunate set of circumstances.

“This is so fucked up.” You say with another mordant laugh. “All of this could have been avoided if we just talked about it.”

It stung less when you had somebody to blame for it. Your vision blurs and you make no effort to clear it, letting yourself cry openly.

“We’re talking about it now?” It’s almost a squeak, the way it’s spoken.

“Yeah, but,” your shoulders slump, defeatedly, and you have to pause to control your sob, “what good does it do now? I’ve already lost the best thing that’s ever happened to me in the most pathetic way possible.”

“I’m right here.” He counters in such a small voice that it gives your goosebumps.

“Spencer, too many things have been said…”

“When you first joined the team, I instantly knew I liked you.”

He chews on his lip and darts his eyes around while he contemplates if he wants to continue.

“I thought it was because of your kind nature. You were so sweet to everybody.” He decides he does, but his voice shakes throughout. “You have this gift…you make people feel so good about themselves. Whenever you spoke to me, I felt like the most important person in the world. It was impossible not to like you.”

You want to pretend like you don’t know where he’s going with this. You want to stop him, but your voice is stuck in your throat.

“It wasn’t until you bought me coffee for the first time that I realised just how much I liked you.” He chuckles again, as he reminisces in the memory. “You didn’t even get my order right until the fourth time, but it was still my favourite cup of the day.”

“You make me sound like a saint.” You finally choke out, attempting to play down the confession so it doesn’t crush your heart. “The only reason I even started bringing you coffee is because you learned how I like my coffee first.”

“Not a saint, an angel. I’ve fallen so deeply in love with you that there are times where it genuinely feels like I’m in the presence of an angel.”

It’s stated with such sincerity that it knocks the wind out of your pipes. Your eyes are widened and you’re biting your tongue with your mouth closed, staring at him with your chin tucked. He seems so confident, even with the glistening from previous tears in his eyes.

“I wanted to be in your life in any way you would have me. Even when it meant that I had to accept you with other people. And it was bearable, until…” His reminiscence only ends at the memory of the night that changed everything. “Like I said, I couldn’t go back.”

The last part fades into another whisper, only then do you find the courage to speak up.

“Exactly.” You stick to your denial. “It can’t go back to how it was before.”

Your heart is so sure of what it wants, but your head is blinded by fear. You’re at a crossroads, except one path, the path that leads to everything you long for, is clouded with a fog of uncertainty. The other path is so painfully clear, you can practically see what’s on the other side. A fresh start, where the risk of fucking up further doesn’t exist. What you don’t see is Spencer.

“Good. I don’t want it to go back to how it was.”

Spencer’s waiting for you to enter the fog. He’s going to be there holding your hand every step of the way.

“I’ve already handed in my resignation.”

“That matters less than everything you’ve claimed doesn’t matter.” He leans in, intensifying his eye contact.

“I’m pretty sure Hotch is really close to confirming my replacement.” You comment half-heartedly.

You’re trying anything to dissuade both him and yourself from acknowledging the obvious, but he doesn’t plan on letting you avoid it.

“I love you.” He whispers softly.

“Spencer…” You begin when he takes hold of your hands and whatever you had to say disappears from your tongue.

“I love you. With every atom that makes up my body.” He repeats himself with further elaboration to instil it in your mind.

“I’m scared.” You whisper back with a sob, finally accepting it.

“Why?” His voice can’t be any softer, but it still cracks a little.

“Because, you can’t guarantee that it’s going to end well.” You allow your vulnerability to peek through. “And that’s going to hurt more. I’d rather leave now than fall deeper.”

Although you didn’t say it back, it’s an indirect admission that you love him too. And it’s enough for him to fight harder.

“I know that my credibility isn’t the greatest,” he coaxes a small, sad scoff out of you, “but I truly believe that this, us, we’ll work. Because I know that I’m going to do everything I can to make this work.”

He feels bolder when you don’t pull away from his touch, folding your fingers into your palms and cupping over them. You observe the sight as it unfolds in lieu of a verbal response.

“I’ve spent four years judging any man that comes into your life, wishing I was in their place, swearing I would treat you better than all of them.”

Spencer feels the need to fill in the silence and he lets honesty guide his confession. He leans in further as if he’s indulging his deepest secret.

“Four years wasted wondering what could be, cursing out those idiots, but taking no action to make it happen. And that makes me the biggest idiot out of all of them.”

When he speaks like this, with his big, imploring eyes and prayerful tone, it melts your heart to a point where it almost hurts. The more he talks, the more you begin to lean in, opening yourself up to him.

“It took losing you to realise how badly I fucked up and for that I will never forgive myself. I know that I have no right to ask you to waste any more time on me…”

There’s no more resistance against the pull you both physically feel to each other.

“...but I’m begging you for a chance to do today what I should have done way before yesterday.”

Your faces grow closer by the second, you can feel each other's breaths against skin.

“And I’m going to spend every tomorrow proving what I said today.”

The likelihood of him changing your mind with one conversation wasn’t very high, both you and Spencer knew this when you got into it. You’re not entirely surprised when he somehow manages to overcome those odds too. You take the step to close the gap and lightly press your lips to his.

It starts off soft, there’s no lust, no ulterior motive behind it. It’s a simple confirmation that you’re both present and this is real. Spencer doesn’t shy away from the kiss, not that you’d call this a kiss. It feels more intimate, more unguarded.

Spencer pulls you onto his lap as he shifts and leans back against the backrest to allow more room for you. You wrap your arms around him and the kiss deepens. In the midst of you straddling him, he slides the entire chess board off the couch and the pieces scatter on the floor. It’s only when you feel that the kiss can’t bring you any closer to him does the lust emerge. It fuels a desire to prove that you both whole-heartedly belong to each other.

There’s no pinpointing when the switch happens. All you know is that the feeling of his lips against yours is no longer enough. You cup his jaw in your hands, swiping your tongue on his lower lip and it causes his grip on your waist to tighten. He parts his lips for you and it starts what you can only call a dance with your tongues.

Your breathing grows hotter, your hips subconsciously grind against him. There’s a prominent bulge that brushes against your heat and you whine into his mouth. Spencer grunts your name in response and then abruptly pulls away.

“Wait, wait, wait, slow down.” He breathlessly whispers against your lips.

“What?” You whisper back with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He gazes into your eyes, afraid that you might regret this later.

“I’ve never been more sure, actually.” You’re confident at first but the look in his eyes makes you pull back further. “Unless…you’re not sure?”

“No, don’t misunderstand me. I want you.” His tone rises just above the previous whisper with his clarification. “It’s just that the last thing I want to do is take advantage of you when our emotions are running high.”

“Four years, Spencer.” You lean in again, just brushing your lips against his. “The only reason you should be making me wait is if you’re not sure.”

He shuts that idea down by crashing his lips on yours. The kiss is so hungry, so desperate, it’s everything both of you have longed for and denied yourselves everytime you’ve been in each other's presence. It doesn’t take long for hands to start to roam. He traces the curve from your waist to your hips, stopping just at the hem of your shirt, tugging it like he’s asking for permission.

You rush to undo your buttons and he meets you halfway, starting at the bottom. His fingers brush against yours as you two reach the final button and you pull the fabric off yourself. You do the same with his shirt, lips remaining locked, except for the small gasps of air you take in between. It requires a bit more manoeuvring with him, but you’re both soon shirtless.

His mouth travels to your jaw and you shut your eyes from pleasure as he continues down to your neck. The stubble on his chin tickles your skin. You cup it, gently pushing him away with a giggle.

“Forget to pack a razor in your bag, Dr. Reid?” Your voice is teasing, more playful than seductive.

He chuckles, airily, hiding his groan. He knows you’re being sarcastic, but the use of his title, with your voice in this context, catches him off guard. You moan as you feel his growing bulge against your heat when his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you into his kiss. You swiftly undo the clasp of your bra, but before you can take it off, Spencer grabs you from just below the hips and lifts you up off him, gently laying you down on the seat of the couch.

There’s no room for hesitation as his lips find your neck again and he nips at the skin. Every suckle earns him short gasps and the grip in his hair tightens as he travels lower. He stops just above your breast, pulling himself up to sit on his knees. You stare up at him with a heated gaze, the nail of your thumb resting between your teeth with your lips parted to make up for the loss of his lips.

He reaches for your bra strap and begins pulling slowly, searching your eyes for any signs of you withdrawing consent. All he sees is how beautifully they sparkle when you give him a light nod. It’s been too long since he’s seen the stars that you hold in your eyes, stars he accustomed himself to before he even got to properly know you.

Gazing into his eyes, you’ve never felt more sure, more safe. You trust him implicitly and you’ve never wanted anything more. His constant need to make sure you're comfortable sends shivers down to your core. He slides the garment off you and Spencer’s beyond grateful that he’s already on his knees, knowing that if he was standing he’d fall to them because of the sight below him.

His eyes don’t falter once, he’s trying to permanently etch this moment into his brain. He hovers his fingers above your body, thumb brushing against your hardened nipple and you softly whine. He looks awestruck, almost like he doesn’t believe what’s happening. You can’t help but wonder if he thinks your boobs look weird.

“Beautiful.” The words fall out of his mouth in a whisper, as if on cue. He’s really just thinking out loud.

Before you can respond he lowers down and plants a small peck to your sensitive nub before taking it into his mouth. You gasp again, head lolling back in pleasure. One of your hands goes for his hair, while the other clings to his hand that’s already holding yours. He switches between sucking, pulling and squeezing; rolling it between his tongue and uses his teeth to squeeze ever so slightly.

“S–spencer.” A strangled moan falls from your lips.

You tug his hair, whining and moaning as your hips roll against the strain in his pants. When your motions become continuous, he lets out his own strained groan and is forced to release your nipple with a small ‘pop’.

“Angel, I really need you to stop doing that.” He murmurs in your ear with a gentle, gravelly tone.

As soon as the nickname reaches your ears your hips involuntarily buck up again, making his hips automatically push down against yours. His cock presses against your core and you both moan, his head falling against your shoulder.

“Spence, more.” You quietly whine in against his ear. “I need more.”

“More?” He echoes back, turning his head so that your lips brush past each other when speaking.

“Mhm.” You nod weakly as he brushes a strand of hair out of your face and weakly connects his lips with yours.

Even when he’s got you vulnerable and at your most compromised, he’s still as gentle as ever. You don’t feel him undo your pants or sneak his hand in them, but you definitely feel him press the pads of his fingers against your clothed clit. Air escapes through your nose in a huff of surprise and you hum in his mouth, hips jolting at his touch. He can feel your slickness through your underwear.

“Oh, my pretty girl.” He sighs, breaking the kiss and directing his whispers in your ear again. “All wet for me?”

“Please..” Even with your broken whimper you beg him for more.

“Like this?” His deft fingers swipe your panties to the side, fingers landing directly on the clit this time.

They feel cold at first. The contrast against your heated body makes you squirm and you groan in a soft, high pitch.

“What are you feeling right now?” He pries a verbal response from you, circling your bud lightly. “Tell me.”

“Good.” You sigh, eyes shut as you try to savour the pleasure.

“Good?” His voice is still soft against your ear.

“Mhm.” You nod, one arm draping against his shoulder and the other hand running along his scruffy jaw. “So good.”

“And this?” He adds pressure to his movements. “Does this feel good?”

Your hips buck again and he feels rewarded when you moan. There’s no doubt that the sound of your voice is his favourite. He especially loves it when it’s directed at him. Whether that be in the form of a laugh or your sweet moans. It makes him somewhat dizzy. His lips attach to the skin just under your jaw in an attempt to coax more.

It’s very effective. Fingers working your bundle of nerves, circling and flicking while changing the pressure, and mouth kissing and sucking near your pulse. It makes your back arch, hand gripping his shoulder so you don’t float away. He’s careful not to leave any purple traces of him on your neck, mindful of you being bombarded with questions from your colleagues.

“I love how reactive you are, Angel. You sound divine– fuck.” He can’t help the grunt that escapes him. “You are divine.”

His touch alone is enough to make you feel electric, but the sweet nothings he’s whispering in your ear will be what send you over the edge. It’s a foreign feeling, being reminded that he values you for more than just your body. Just under an hour ago you had incredibly high walls built around you and none of them are left standing as you exposed under him.

Spencer’s not the first man to touch you, but he is the first that loves you. It’s something you’re not at all used to and it feels as overwhelming as it does good. It transcends the want, no, the need for the man on top of you beyond lust or love. You plan to show him just how strong that need is tonight.

The carpeted floor is littered with your clothes, carelessly thrown around and tiny chess pieces scattered around the abandoned chess board. Spencer’s comfortably lying on the couch, facing the ceiling and you’re lying directly on top of him with your face buried in his neck.

You run your fingers back and forth along his jaw, scratching his beard in slow streaks. He’s enveloped you in his arms, one around your lower back and the other playing with your hair. It doesn’t feel as peaceful as it seems, both of you are afraid of being the first to speak. You know you can’t stay like this forever and you decide to bite the bullet.

“Spencer?”

You only get silence from his end. You know he’s awake because his motions in your hair don’t stop. You push yourself up to face him, trying to study his face. The sudden movement brings him back from wherever he was zoned out to.

“Hm?” His features jump.

Does he regret it?

“What’s wrong?” Your voice shakes from worry. “You have this look on your face.”

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just thinking.”

“About…?”

“How bad we are at communicating.” He chuckles. “It’s concerning when you think about how all we ever do is talk.”

Hearing this makes you snort and you fall into him again. It sends both of you into a short fit of laughter.

“Oh that’s promising for the success of this relationship.” You giggle, sarcasm evident.

Hearing relationship makes Spencer inhale sharply.

“So you’re staying?”

“Well obviously, Dingbat.” You scoff playfully at the question and shift upright, straddling him. “But we really do need to get better at the communication thing for this to work.”

Spencer mounts his weight on his hands by either side of him and pushes himself up to you, stealing a deep kiss.

“Yes, we absolutely do.” He whispers, breaking away for only a second.

The kisses fizzle in you a plethora of smaller kisses.

“Spencer, I’m– serious.” You voice in between, loosely draping your arms on his shoulders.

“I am too.” He says in a hushed tone as he pulls away.

“I want to take it– this,” you motion between the two of you with your finger, “us, slow. Not four years slow, but, like, by a couple of months at the very least.”

“Okay.” He agrees, his eyes scouring your face with complete adoration. It’s not ideal, but he understands where you’re coming from.

“That means that we start again. Romantically. We have to talk about a lot of things first.”

He shifts his body out from under you, resting his back properly against the couch and pulls you back into his lap in one swift motion. Both of his hands graze from your shoulder to your wrist.

“How about…you come over this weekend,” He suggests, wrapping his arms around your waist for a hug, “we’ll do snacks, a movie, maybe an actual game of chess.”

“That sounds like a date.” You wrap your arms around his neck to return the gesture and lean your forehead against his.

“It’s not a date. Not yet, anyways.” He whispers. “I’m asking you to come over this weekend so we can talk about things properly, because frankly, I don’t think either of us is in the right headspace for it right now.”

“Should I be offended at that?” You giggle, not entirely sure what he’s alluding to.

“No!” He snorts with a high tone. “Dopamine aside, our Norepinephrine and Serotonin levels are too high right now for us to have a proper conversation about this.”

“I’m not saying that you’re wrong, because you’re not, but I also think you’re just using science to try and confuse me, so that I agree to wherever this speech is heading.”

“It’s times like this where your attentiveness puts me at a disadvantage, because this tactic has a hundred percent success rate on everybody else.” He grins and you chuckle, both leaning in for another kiss.

“Can we hold off on starting over? Just for tonight.” He reluctantly voices, not wanting to push any boundaries.

You draw back and raise your eyebrows with your eyes widened.

“Spence, I have waited for years for this. You’re insane if you think I’m giving that up without relishing in it for at least a night. We’re not starting over until we’re both officially back on the clock.”

“Okay.” He heaves from relief, leaning in for another kiss, but quickly withdraws with a new question. “Don’t you think the team’s going to be suspicious when we’re not fighting tomorrow?”

“Forget them, what am I gonna say to Hotch when I ask to withdraw my resignation?” You huff out a tiny groan. “He’s gonna hate me for all this paperwork.”

Paperwork reminds you why you’re here to begin with. You audibly gasp, jumping off Spencer and scrambling to put your clothes back on.

“Fuck! Spencer, get dressed!”

Spencer doesn’t share your panic, but adheres to your demand. You mutter a continuous line of obscenities as you throw on your clothes and when you don’t seem to be getting calmer, he intervenes.

“Hey, hey, hey!” He coos as he steps towards you, still undressed on the upper-half. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that we’ve been here for hours!” You shriek, now fully dressed.

You push past Spencer and grab his shirt, deciding that he was too slow on his own. He lets you dress him as he probes further.

“That’s okay. No one’s going to notice this late.”

“No– Spence–” You sigh, throwing your head back. “In less than four hours, Hotch is going to walk into his office expecting the Anchorage report on his desk. I’ve barely been able to get half of it done in weeks, how am I going to finish it in four hours?”

You shake your head and begin working on his buttons. He grabs your wrists, urging you to look at him.

“You’ll have it done in less than one. I’ll help you!” His voice is light, airy, soft and accompanied with a chuckle.

“Spencer, you’ve already been here later than you need to be. It’s okay–”

“Let me help you.” He resorts to pleading, releasing your wrists and cupping your face.

You don’t have it in you to argue, his eyes staring back at you with sincerity. He wants to help. There’s no point in pushing him away, because as scared as you are about being too vulnerable with your trauma from that case, you trust him wholeheartedly. You know he won’t push for more than what you choose to share right now.

“Okay.” You nod and smile into the kiss he leans in for after the confirmation.

“Okay. Now, you go and start some coffee.” he instructs softly with a wide grin, waving to the scattered chess ensemble. “ I’m going to clean up here and join you.”

“I love you!” You lean for another kiss and hushedly exclaim as you break away, receding towards the door.

It’s Spencer’s turn to lose his breath. He’s affirmed his love for you countless times tonight and this is the first time you’ve verbally reciprocated it. He knows that it won’t be the last time either. That, to him, makes him the luckiest man in the world. He stops you from going any further by your arm and gently yanks you in his direction, crashing his lips with yours.

“I love you too.” He whispers after the kiss, letting you go.

Heat rises in your face again and you struggle to hide a huge dopey smile, one that Spencer has too. You’re floating on cloud nine, finally out of the blurry hurricane you’ve endured for months. There’s still a lot of things that you need to work out, but the thought of them doesn’t make you feel dread like it once did.

"One word frees us of all the weight and pain in life. That word is Love." - Socrates

Spoilers: Yapperoni (so much dialog in this chapter), BAU! Reader, enemies (kinda) to lovers, hurt, comfort, love confessions (they might be a little too sappy, idk, I was sleep deprived), the praise made me giddy at some point, smut but I edge you by not writing out everything, happy ending.

AN - I have a little tiny fear that people (me) will nawt (I don’t) fuck with this monstrosity, but out of all my drafts, this felt like the most natural course of action. I thought it would be really fun to go from friends to enemies to lovers. Now, literally nobody talk to me about writing fics after this. Uni’s started, so I’ll be very inconsistent for a bit. Casual reminder: I am not Spencer Reid. I don’t have an IQ of 187. Any facts I make him spew could very well be bull-shit and he only spews them for the purpose of the story. I also have no knowledge of how the FBI works and lack a ton of common sense. A lot of things were made up for the purpose of this story.

A comment today keeps semicolon away (from showing up to your house and eating all your snacks).

Thank you for reading!

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queen-of-deans-booty · 3 months ago

Text

The Vessel: Part One

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

Warnings: canon angst and violence

Summary: You and Dean are sent back in time to 1942 to retrieve a Hand of God that might help the fight toward Amara. While on the ship, you encounter something truly magical. However, the secret of Lucifer being inside Castiel comes to a halt, and you're forced to come clean about it.

Season Eleven Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

You're going to make today a good day. You've been stressed beyond belief ever since you got your soul back, but you're going to try and make this day a good one. Molly is in the kitchen making the kids' lunches, and she smiles at you when she sees you.

"Do you need any help?"

"No. I'm just about finished, anyway."

"Listen, I'm really glad that you're here. You help out so much, more than I can ask for, and probably deserve. I just... thank you."

"You're welcome. I like being here. Your family is cool, and the kids and I get along great. Noah is even warming up to me now," she beams.

"Good, I'm glad."

"Hey, since you're here, my mom is having this get-together this weekend--"

"Go," you cut her off. "You don't have to ask. Just let me know a few days in advance."

"Awesome. Thanks!"

Dean and Sam walk into the kitchen seconds later with the older brother looking like he needs caffeine. Sam has been up for hours and even did a nice run while Dean just woke up. Molly bags the lunches before leaving for the kids' bedrooms to help them get ready for school. Dean goes to the coffee machine when Sam speaks up.

"We're out."

"There was half a bag yesterday!"

"I killed it," Sam shrugs without remorse.

"Don't worry, baby." You conjure an entirely new bag out of thin air, and Dean grins when he grabs it. "I got you."

"I knew there was a reason why I love you."

"Hey, did you know the Nazis had a special branch devoted to archaeology? It's called the 'Ahnenerbe'. There were sites all over Germany, and then as the Nazis increased their territory, they started popping in Poland, Finland, and North Africa."

"How is this interesting?" Dean asks as he brews a new pot of coffee.

"I found something. I mean, I found something we need. A weapon strong enough to give us a shot against Amara. I've been looking outside the lore in history. I found the Vichy Memorandums. They were Nazi communications that puzzle historians to this day, and they spoke of a super weapon obtained by the Ahnenerbe. It's said to be strong enough to win the war."

"What was it?"

"These memos refer to it as 'The Hand of God'. I mean, that was sort of a catch-all term for several objects he touched on Earth in Biblical times. They're believed to contain traces of His power."

"Yeah, well the Nazis believed a lot of things."

"Dean, Lucifer's caged." Just like that, the guilt returns. So much for your good day. Ever since you found out Lucifer has been inside Castiel, it's been eating away at you slowly but surely. If they found out about it, he'd hurt your kids and you can't have that. "God's MIA. The only beings strong enough to battle Amara are gone. If we're gonna fight her, what better way to arm up than with an actual dose of His power?"

"Okay, so you said the Nazis got their hand on one of these hands, right? If it was so powerful that it could win them the war, why didn't it?"

"They lost it en route to Berlin. It was stolen. The Nazis searched high and low for the thief, but they never found their prime suspect. Her name is Delphine Seydoux. She's a French mistress to a high-ranking Nazi. She was thought to be a French traitor until she killed her German lover, and made off with the weapon."

"Allied spy? French resistance?"

"That's what the Nazis thought, but their investigation led them to a different conclusion. That she was an 'un femme de lettre'. A Woman of Letters."

Time to do research. Molly takes the kids to school, allowing you to focus on the issue at hand. Sam and Dean immediately dig into the research while you stand off to the side guilt-ridden and exhausted. Maybe it won't be so bad if you tell them. Maybe you have enough power to protect your kids against Lucifer. You open your mouth to say something but the words die on your tongue.

You've been lying to them for months. How will they ever be okay with you keeping this from them? You turn away from the brothers with a sigh.

"Who knew the Men of Letters had European chapters?" Dean comments.

"What, like the British Men of Letters?" Sam jokes.

"Plus, letting women join way back in the forties? I just never got the impression that they were so big on gender equality. It's right there in the name."

"It was World War II. It's kind of an all-hands-on-deck situation, you know?" Sam finds the book he needs. "Here we go. This report was written by Clifford Henshaw, a bunker-based Men of Letters back in 1943. It's the right era, but it's in French."

"I thought I saw a translator in the storage room," you say. "I'll be right back."

You take this time to reflect on what you're going to do. How will you come clean after all this time? Will you? You grab the translator, return to the brothers, and hand it to Sam. It's a device the size of the length of the book's pages. It scans the words and translates them to the app on Sam's phone. While Sam is translating it, you take a shower and get dressed.

"Did you find anything?" you ask when you return.

"Kind of. This book is definitely about Delphine. Her name's at the top of every page. It's mostly transcriptions from transatlantic cables between Clifford and Delphine."

"What did they say?"

"Give me a second. Web translation's kind of buggy." He pauses. "They were making arrangements to get the artifact out of Europe to keep it safe. Henshaw pulled some strings with a Man of Letters in the OSS to requisition an active US submarine to transport Delphine and the weapon back to the States. Back to here."

"The Bunker?"

"Yeah."

"It's been here the whole time?"

Sam reads some more. "No. It never arrived. The USS Bluefin came under German attack midway through its trip across the Atlantic. The sub was sunk, and the ship and its contents haven't been recovered to this day. It's lost."

"Or is it?" Dean smirks.

"I'd say so. The tides took the wreckage, and submersibles have been trying to locate it for years. I mean, if James Cameron and his Avatar billions can't find it..."

"We have something James Cameron doesn't have."

"What?"

"A time-traveling angel."

There goes the guilt again. You can't allow Lucifer into this Bunker again.

"Maybe we should do this without him," you say.

"Do you know how to time travel?" Dean asks.

"Well, no, but--"

"Okay, then we're calling Cas."

Lucifer is eager to come into the Bunker again so he arrives sooner rather than later. You don't even have time to prepare yourself. Lucifer walks into the Bunker and looks at Sam and Dean to gauge their reactions. If you told them, he'd know. He looks at you and you look away immediately with a look of guilt on your face. You haven't. He smirks. Sam and Dean fill in Lucifer on what's going on, and it's safe to say he's surprised.

"There were several God-touched objects, but it never occurred to me that any of them survived the flood, let alone the twentieth century."

"Do you think we can use it against Amara?" Sam asks.

He grins. "It's perfect, and I can get you back there."

"Without wings? Cas, you can't even teleport."

Lucifer can't let them know he's not Castiel, so he has to think of something they would believe.

"Time travel is a whole different system."

"Told ya!" Dean exclaims.

Lucifer grabs a map and looks at it. "So, these are the last coordinates?"

"Yah, that's the Bluefin's last transmission to shore."

"Alright."

"Wait a second, Cas. Aren't there still risks with time travel? I mean aren't there consequences?" Sam asks.

"Sam, this is the ideal scenario. That sub is a tin can floating in the middle of the ocean doomed to go down. You can't really mess with history at twenty-thousand leagues. We get in, get the weapon, and get out. It's a milk run."

"That's not a very good plan."

"If things get outta hand, then Cas will just zap me right back."

"You?"

"Yeah, you're not going."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You need to stay here with Y/N just in case things go sideways. Somebody needs to be left standing to take care of the Darkness. We can't risk us all. At the moment, I'm the least valuable player! You both know that I can't kill Amara, so the least I could do is get the thing that we need so that you two can!"

Sam scoffs and shakes his head. "So, you expect me to sit here and twiddle my thumbs while you can Cas go play Jules Verne?"

"I won't let him out of my sight," Lucifer promises.

"I'm going with you," you say.

"What? You're the best chance we have at beating Amara if I can't get this thing. You're not going."

You glance at Lucifer who is looking at you. "There is no way I'm letting you and... Castiel... go alone."

"She's right Dean. She's a witch. She can be useful," Lucifer backs you up.

"Okay, fine, but you're staying here, Sam."

Sam doesn't like it but he has to trust this is going to work. "You'll stay by their side the entire time?"

"I will."

"Sam, let us do this. Okay, I need to do this."

"Fine, but be safe. Please."

"When am I not?" He grins. "Let's do this, Cas." The angel walks over to Dean who then grabs your hand. Lucifer places a hand on both your and Dean's shoulders. "Bon voyage."

In the next second, you're transported to the boat back in 1943 right in the middle of the sleeping quarters. There are soldiers sleeping in their bunk beds on either side of you and Dean, but there is no sign of Lucifer. The boat is rocking so much that you think you might get seasick, and you reach out to steady yourself on one of the bunk bed frames. You look down and see a bomb with a swastika painted on it. There are multiple bombs that the soldiers are sleeping on.

"Cas?" Dean whispers. Dean looks at you, and you shake your head. "What do we do?"

One of the soldiers above you starts to stir so much that you think he's waking up.

"Hide, Dean. Under the beds. Go!"

You take the one to the right and Dean takes the one to the left. As soon as you're underneath the bed, the soldiers wake up. You try to be as quiet as you can because if they find out you're here, things won't go over well. Two soldiers drop down from the top bunks, and you look at Dean from underneath the beds.

"Let's go, vacation's over." All of the soldiers get up for the day and get dressed, and one more walks in from doing the night shift. "You know, we got zip running controls in the bay now that Captain has got us going in the wrong direction. To run some mystery mission for some broad? Tell me how that makes sense."

"I wouldn't worry about it. Get some rest, Petey."

"You know I can't rest."

All of the soldiers but Petey leave, and he props himself on the bed directly above Dean. You look around to see if there is something you can use to get out of here when you spot something on the bottom of the wall in front of you. There is a symbol painted. It looks like a sigil of some sort. That's why Lucifer isn't here. He can't get on. This boat is warded which means someone on board knows about angels."

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

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fluff #supernatural angst #supernatural series rewrite

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ultimateplaylistmaker · 5 months ago

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(Same anon as the Gonta-Kokichi-Miu comic post) That Gonta afterlife AU sounds really. (Btw, sorry for using capslock a lot in that post, I tried to cut some of it down after I'd already finished writing the post but there was too much in that post to do in like 5 minutes).

I wonder what the other dead v3 members would think about Alter Ego Gonta though. I can see the Alter Ego looking really mad when someone says that he "was just manipulated", "it's okay, you don't have to listen to him anymore", "I'll give you some time to catch up with your feelings about him!," and "Don't worry, I'll make sure he won't bother you until you want to confront him!". Imagine some of them thinking the reason the two Gontas can't reunite is cause they haven't expected they're manipulated.

It's not really a secret that the cast kinda hate Kokichi, even back in chapter 3 when the worst thing he'd done was the Insect Meet and Greet which even Kaito, in a roundabout way, admitted the idea of was good, no one thought to ask about his head wound (I headcanon that someone-Kiibo maybe- did a bit of first aid on him before the trial but we're sadly never gonna get clarification on that). Even Kirumi had to call him "a despicable cretin" before she died for no reason (well, there was a reason, but did the writers really have to include at least one line of every character hating on Kokichi?)

Though the people who hated him the most due to being there for chapter 4 are alive and well (Kiibo forgave him, Tsumugi gets no say in this matter she is worse, and Kaito kinda depends on who you ask and if they care about that one line he says about Kokichi right before his execution- which was actually changed to sound meaner in the localization I believe?). I can definitely see some people (Angie, Tenko, etc.) hating (or upgrading to despising) him when they learn about what he did in chapter 4 from Miu or someone else.

This would definitely lead to Gonta getting a free pass from everyone cause "it wasn't his fault," and Gonta just going along with everyone but wondering if maybe, just maybe he might have had a hand in planning Miu's death as well, arranging the whole thing. I mean, who really knows, Kokichi does but you can never be sure about the percentage of honesty in his claims. This leads Gonta right back to his Alter Ego, who, wouldn't you know it, has the answers and tells him to think back on his friendship with Kokichi, before the killing game got to their heads and took away their morals. And maybe, after he finishes doing this himself and offering an olive branch to Kokichi, he can convince some of his easier-going classmates to do the same (I now want someone to write an ao3 fic about this).

Anyway, this is just my vision for Afterlife Ougoku friendship. I would love to see more of this, or another, Afterlife AU though.

I will give Kirumi a pass, Kokichi did like, have her chase him for hours and constantly called her a name she hated, personal vendetta against kokichi acceptable when you are kirumi and he wont leave you the fuck alone with the mommy comments.

Honestly I am rotating the imagery of two Gonta ghosts, alter ego and memory loss, Ego and Loss for short and how they have to interact. Loss feels betrayed but also uncertain because of the things Ego said about not being tricked and things not adding up, but he's surrounded by people telling him he has never done anything wrong in his life and I love Gonta but he is a little terrible at peer pressure and not falling in with a crowd so Loss could get definitely talked more against Kokichi and trying to absolve himself of blame, even if he's always going to have that kind of sick feeling of being desperate for the acknowledgement you did something please someone see he did things wrong because you know you did but no one will face it and that hurts more, while Ego is frustrated but also isolating in that Gonta angst because he doesnt think he should share the information he got and he's angry that even in death his friends are still hating each other and he doesn't know how to fix it or what to do and he's blaming himself too much for the murder.

Like it doesn't even have to be ougoku this as just a character study of the facets of Gonta's personality is already fascinating and I am already thinking of duet songs for them

#ndrv3 #and then they KISS #that is a joke (or is it) i just always think selfcest is funny #anon chaos

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lesbiansupernatural · 2 years ago

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I really enjoy playing video games, and am usually quite okay at it, but I for some reason am completely incapable of doing them correctly. Let me explain.

I usually aim for 100% completion in all games I play, which in turn tends to make me accidentally do things in the wrong order. In addition to this I am slightly stupid and fuck up a lot, so here are some of my best moments:

1. Skyrim: was gifted the game by a friend who loves it and was immedeately hooked. After having played non stop (apart from school) for about two weeks, my friend asked me what my favorite shout was. My response? "What the fuck is a shout??" I'd played the game for two whole weeks and just casually not gotten to that quest yet. I had the quest in my log, but I was running around doing other things, also killed a few dragons and had to go back later to be able to absorb their souls

2. Stardew valley: Played the game till I got tired of it, 100+ hours. Put it away, and then realized that romance is a thing in the game. I did not have a single hint of romance in my play through lmao

3. Baldur's gate: I during the entire thing with the thieflings in the glade I somehow fucked up enough to kill every single person there, causing me not to have the thiefling party and not get the Halsin quest. I did not realize there was another solution to that problem until halfway through act two.

I also managed to enter the goblin camp the wrong way, so I entered through the exit. During this I somehow killed Halsin. Then as I exited the camp I got the pop up for the Halsin quest, and then immedeately after a pop up saying the quest was over

4. Assassin's creed: when I play open world games I usually try to do every side quest etc I can before continuing with the main quest. In the ac games you also have a neat question mark for everywhere you haven't been. So any time I entered a new a new area, I'd loot everything. This caused me to get an inventory FILLED with quest items I did not have the quests for yet. Also ended up with a lot of quest items I never got to use after finishing the game

5. Horizon forbidden west: I did not realize there were areas of the map you needed a flying creature to access, so before unlocking said creature I was going around trying to explore every single location. Somehow also managed to glitch my way into one of the places that could "only" be accessed by flying. (I jumped like a million times till I managed to angle it correctly so I was able to jump into a tree and then jump the fence that way)

Also feel the need to mention that I do not own a sense of direction, and this is often revealed in the way I play games. I have a bunch of examples, but let's do the one where I tried to play breath of the wild.

I entered into a room. Straight ahead was a very obvious opening for where to go next, but I wanted to make sure I didn't miss anything in one of the corners. So I walked around the room, "oh look! A secret door!" I opened said door, expecting a smaller room with some loot in it. What actually happened? I walked back outside...

That's all I can remember for right now, but there is most likely a BUNCH more

#gaming #shitpost #playstation #skyrim #stardew valley #baldurs gate 3 #asassins creed #horizon forbidden west #zelda breath of the wild

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thotsforvillainrights · 1 year ago

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-Straight From The Heart-

~Chapter 2~

You woke up with dried slobber stuck to your cheek and your phone vibrating like crazy. Without a second thought, you sucked it up and answered it as if you hadn't overslept your alarms. "Good morning, is this a Y/N?" Your eyes blown wide and you quickly wiped your face. "Why yes, this is she/he/them! Who may I ask is calling?" You could feel your heart hammering in your chest. "Yes, this is Yuki from Double Link Tech company and I'm calling in regards to an application? Is it okay that we go ahead and interview you today? Say in about an hour or so?" Without a single thought, you agreed. As soon as the phone call ended you mentally cursed yourself out.

Then you did it physically too.

"You fucking idiot why would you agree to interview in an hour!? Now I have to get ready in 15 minutes or less! On top of that, you better be praying that the trains can get you there in time." It appeared to be your lucky day having landed an interview but now you weren't even sure if you could make it there in time. You decided to try and run to catch the train. Unfortunately you ran smack dab into another person. Now you had go spare a few minutes to apologize and help them pick up the papers that fell from their suitcase when it hit the ground. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry I-" You paused when he looked down at you and smiled. "Its you, from the cafe yesterday? 5 cents!" He spoke with a smile as he started helping you pick up the papers. You'd reply with a witty remark about his mustache hair but there was no time for one-liners. You were so quick with picking up the papers that they were getting somewhat jumbled up and bent. "Whoa whoa 5 cents, slow it down. Why the big rush?" He asked as you both finished gathering the papers. "I'm sorry, I've got no time to talk. I have to catch this train in time for my interview." You showed him your phone and he frowned. "Uh I certainly hate to break this to you but that train schedule is way out of date. It left about 15 minutes ago. The next one is leaving in 3 minutes, and the one after that won't get you there in time." Your mouth opened in disbelief. "Hey if you don't close it, you'll catch flies." He laughed as he gently reached up and placed a hand under your chin to close your mouth. "Besides," He held up keys and jingled them. "I can get you there quicker than the train can."

For a moment you weighed the pros and cons of getting into the car with a total and complete stranger but after remembering his track record you ultimately decided there was no more time to think on it. After getting into the car with him (and secretly admiring the interior of it) you decided to start up some small talk while hoping he wasn’t some secret psycho that might take you somewhere and kill you. "So...a politician huh?" He smirked and peeked over at you for a moment before turning his attention back to the road. "Ah, you figured it out slower than I thought you would. I'm so well talked about in this community that I thought you'd figure it out yesterday after leaving the shop. When did you get it exactly?" He asked with curiosity. "Oh I figured it out yesterday evening. A woman was handing out fliers. I don't mean to sound crazy but I did a little digging into your work last night and I'm thoroughly surprised with everything. You must be the worlds most perfect man. Well, at least here in Deika." You teased him and he blushed just barely. "Oh well yknow, I don't mean to brag but I am perfect. That being said, don't hesitate to vote for me in the next election." He winked at you and you rolled your eyes. "Oh please. We're going a little far for a vote aren't we?" You laughed. "Hmm, how so? Elaborate for me." He asked with amusement in his tone. "Well I mean covering my food cost yesterday and now giving me a ride to my job interview? I wouldn't think you needed my vote that bad did you?" You smiled teasing him and he rolled his eyes with a chuckle. "No I don't need your vote but I would appreciate it. This is all just the way I am. Besides, it's so sudden I've run into you again like this huh 5 cents?"

"It's Y/N actually." You finally corrected him, smiling widely. "Oh, I finally know your name then? My name is-"

"Hanabata. Koku Hanabata. I know. I wasn't kidding about researching you Mr. Politician." He chuckled and shook his head. After chatting for some period of time, you made it to your destination much quicker than the train would've gotten you there. You had a few more minutes to spare towards getting your nerves in line. Although now that you think about it, you weren't feeling as stressed after having a talk with Hanabata and getting your mind off things. "Thank you again for all your help." You smiled lightly and he nodded. "It's no issue. Just consider giving your vote for this term, 5 cent Y/N." He teased you and you rolled your eyes. With a quick double check of the time on your phone, you turned and headed into the building with full confidence.

...

And headed out of the building without it. There wasn't even a single moment to shed a tear considering the loud blare of a horn sounded out for a moment. You searched around for a second before your eyes landed on the black vehicle parked in the same spot it was about 15 minutes ago. You groaned and quickly walked to the passenger side as the window rolled down. "What are you still doing here???" You stared at him confusion and he shrugged. "I figured you needed a ride after your interview. There's no need to try and catch the train. It's mentally draining after having to sit through the hiring process is it not?" He patted the passenger seat. "Get in. I'll take you to lunch if you want?" You sighed and hesitated for just a moment before figuring there was nothing else to lose. The ride away from the building was far more different than the one there. The happy chatting wasn't present but instead the space was overtaken by silence and a thick tension. Finally Hanabata decided to clear his throat and cut the silence. "So I'm assuming it didn't go well?" Another minute of silence before you sighed deeply. "Yeah, I thought I had it in the bag but the woman that interviewed me was definitely not the same woman as the one on the phone this morning. She was quick and bored. In fact, it felt like she didn't even want to be around me to begin with. She didn't talk much about the company and she only asked me the bare minimum in questions. She didn't even give me any information as to how I could follow up with them or anything like that. I completely bombed that interview." You smacked yourself lightly on the forehead and he gave a long sigh. "Yeah I know how that can go, but don't get too down about it. To me it sounds like they already had somebody in mind that they wanted to hire. It's more than likely that they just needed to finish up the interview process for whatever reason. Don’t beat yourself up over it." He reassured you. You smiled gently and looked over to him. After another few minutes of driving and listening in and out to his podcasts he was playing, he finally spoke up again. "You know, I could use a little help on the campaign trail. It's usually an unpaid volunteer or intern job but we can maybe work something out behind closed doors-"

"Whoa let me stop you right there. I'm not that kind of person..."

"Ah, not like that of course!!! I just...I mean I know it's tough doing this job hunt right now. I know you just moved here and I also know money doesn't grow on trees. I'm figuring you could use a few extra dollars here and there."

"You're not wrong but I don't know if you should be sticking your neck out to help me so much like this. It's just, and I mean no offense when I say this, but it's just really suspicious. It feels like you're being fake with me." You admitted to him in full honesty. He chuckled and shook his head. "Yeah I get how it can feel that way. I have to apologize, but this is how I am sometimes. I tend to move quickly and lack the common hesitation that I need. It's just that I've developed this mindset with age that I have to strike while the iron is hot. Why wait to ask for the help when I have opportunity for it sitting right next to me?" He shrugged as he pulled into a parking lot next to a restaurant. "Well that makes sense and I understand it fully, but don't you think it's shady to be paying me for work everyone else is doing for free?" He smirked at your words and turned the car off. "What payment?" He winked and you caught his drift. "Besides, I also have a permanent office as well so if you can't find the job that suits you between now and then, you can feel free to work at my office permanently." He stated before getting out of the car and moving over to your side. He opened the door for you and stood to the side as you got out. "Thank you." You mumbled, following alongside him into the establishment. "And also for the lunch too..." You spoke quietly and he nodded. "No need to thank me for that. I don't like eating alone and my company cancelled on me unfortunately." He spoke while pulling out your chair for you to sit in. You mentally took note of the chivalry. He was starting to look more and more just as the articles described him...too perfect for this world apparently. "Company? What, your wife or husband or partner maybe? Work friends or something?" You asked him and he laughed. "More along the lines of friends. No partner, I'm single. In fact, I haven't truly dated anyone since I was in high school. That was a long time ago I'd call it. No time for dating when I was coming out of it for college. I was focused on scraping my way to where I am now. I'm in a comfortable place, but being married with a family would certainly look good for my publicity. Honestly more than that, I think I'm tired of coming home to an empty house each night. Sorry, I've begun rambling haven't I?" You laughed and nodded your head. "Yep, you sure talk a lot." He laughed at your honesty and started looking at the menu. "I've always been talkative. Please enlighten me about yourself? What about you? Are you single? Any long term plans for a career or anything like that?" You smiled and shook your head. "Haven't found the right person yet. I mean I've been on dates here and there in the past. I've had a partner or two but I find people can be so disappointing when you put all your faith in them. As far as careers go, I've learned it's most important to not have a dream job but to have a job you tolerate enough to use the funds towards living a life that makes you happy." You spoke as your eyes scanned the menu. "Interesting take on things. I've not seen the career lifestyle looked at in that light but it makes sense to me. Not everyone can land a dream job and even if you do, sometimes it's not all it's cracked up to be. I think you're right about it. Life certainly shouldn't be lived slaving away behind a desk for most people...not for me though. I love my job." He smiled proudly and you rolled your eyes. "I'm sure you do, Mr. Politician." You teased him.

#straight from the heart #chapter two #koku hanabata #koku hanabata x reader #trumpet bnha #mla #meta liberation army #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

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lovestuckyhatemarvel · 2 years ago

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The Nina Project. Nina makes me think of Fullmetal Alchemist (both original and Brotherhood) which makes me sad, but also I had a friend with a cat named Nina. Although that cat is probably also dead. Either way, RIP Nina and let’s get started with episode 5.

1.) Yeah, I knew that dude wouldn’t last long enough to tell them how to find Nina. Also, my deepest apologies to Argyle. I think you’re gonna get fired for this. People are super not supposed to die in the back of your delivery van.

2.) I straight up forgot that the other fed was still alive to be threatened.

3.) Okay we’re going back 12 hours. Hey wait, guys. Lmao. I know it’s kind of generic but I find the secret base entrance 1.) hilariously obvious. 2.) looks like the entrance to the underground home in Sims 4 thanks to Strangerville. I can’t remember which came first and I don’t care enough to check. I’m gonna pretend Sims did it first because that’s funnier.

4.) “You built all This?” El, Owens hired people to build all this.

5.) “You’re bigger than Madonna to them.” Eh, fuck Madonna.

6.) Oh, Nina’s a fuckin’ metal thing. And there’s Brenner. BUDDY, THAT’S NOT FEAR. THAT’S ANGER AND HATE. Oh my god I hate Brenner.

7.) Brenner better die, I swear to god.

8.) Actually, Owens can die too since they’re drugging her and recreating a scene from episode 1. But also why was Owens stupid enough to actually reveal Brenner? I hope that shit has a purpose, because otherwise he’s a moron.

9.) “He is not yours to kill.” Okay who is Hopper’s to kill? I guess we’ll find out after they finish dragging him past ominous double doors. Oh nvm, I just remembered the end of season three.

10.) Hey, Hopper. I know you’re mad, but like, Antonov or whatever his name is, is telling the truth. Or at least I think he is. He had no reason to actually want to put himself in danger like that. He does not benefit from being a prisoner.

11.) Oh that dweeb is still getting up into the air.

12.) “I have 3 kids.” Aw. Joyce counted El. <3

13.) Hi, Eddie. You need to be more subtle, my baby boy. I get why he wants a six pack though. And why Max bounced for breakfast.

14.) Ted Wheeler, I hope you die and leave your family a ton of money.

15.) Max is not good at art, but they’re fun. Also can we talk about how everyone is talking super openly around Holly and Ted?

16.) Nancy draws super straight lines. That’s not important, but nice job.

17.) Was cutting El’s hair actually necessary? Joyce should buy her some fun wigs. Like a few different colors. For funsies.

18.) No offense, but I don’t understand people who would fuck Henry Creel. He’s not attractive before his transformation and after his transformation his design is boring and goofy. Like he’s not a fuckable monster.

19.) Truly don’t understand Owens and Brenner working together. Like not to be a fucking dumbass but it seems outside his personality.

20.) THEY ARE NOT BURYING THAT BODY DEEP ENOUGH. Actually, Argyle is losing his mind so probably not a good time to bring this up. Also, people who write Argyle as chill in the face of danger are fucking HILARIOUS to me now. Like how did that get started?

21.) Hey, Netflix. Why are you starting the ‘tender emotional music’ on Will/Mike over them burying a body in the desert? Like I know this conversation warrants it, but maybe cue up the music like 5 seconds later.

22.) Argyle is super not understanding hiding a body. But GOD, it only happened so Mike could notice the pen. But couldn’t the group just talk about how all the dude did was hand over a pen???????

23.) “I can make you rich.” Can you, bud? Oh nvm, you’re lying about Hopper being rich. But also it was a terrible plan even if Hopper had helped. The guard would have demanded money and Hopper doesn’t fucking have it.

24.) Hopper is giving backstory but is also using his tragic backstory (which is tragic) to try to pretend he’s too dangerous to be near. Hopper, ‘everyone I love, I hurt’ is the depression talking. And the PTSD. You are not the curse. Except for in season 3. You were the curse then because you were deeply annoying.

25.) Damn, one backstory and guy I refuse to call Enzo is giving up.

26.) People came to talk to Wayne and see the burgeoning crack in his ceiling. I am glad Wayne is being moved.

27.) This funeral for Chrissy was fast.

28.) Hey how the fuck does that rando know who Eddie’s supplier is and that two old men thought they saw Rick in his house this goddamn morning????????????

29.) Aw damn, why’d you have to break that fucking stained glass. It was nice.

30.) Well, we got a shot of the walkie talkie as the bag was dropped on the floor so that probably is a hint.

31.) Steve has such a bitchy sigh. I love it.

32.) Hell yeah, Joyce. But also lmao Jeremiah the 16 year old fighter is very fast. Yuri < Jeremiah.

33.) “Never mind how” means the show does not want to actually come up with a rationale for how they can suddenly force El to go back to any memory, let alone this specific one.

34.) I understand they needed to use CGI for younger El, but they actually didn’t do a great job in some of those shots.

35.) Oh, they wanna get Susie to figure it out.

36.) Damn, Eddie, you are firmly just bored now. Oh well, not bored anymore. A bunch of douches in tailored suits are here to murder you. Also, bud, did you not close and lock all the doors?????? Why the fuck would he leave it open and unlocked? Also WHAT DO YOU MEAN, ‘IT’S HIM’? IT’S A STONER’S HOUSE. IT’S LITERALLY THE STONER’S FOOD!!!

37.) Yeah, they couldn’t hear the radio.

38.) Dustin is being a douche and did not answer Steve’s very reasonable question. And also I would also freak out from spiders. ROBIN THT’S SO MEAN.

39.) Second Platonic with a capital P. Still no sign of the word soulmate and I’m starting to wonder if it’s purely fanon.

40.) Steve Harrington is a himbo and I love him.

41.) Lucas is so cute. And Max and Lucas are the only cute het couple amongst the kids.

42.) So far there’s no actual explanation from the show of how there are so many kids with powers. We know how El got hers, but Kali was kidnapped as a child and presumably didn’t get her powers the same way. And I don’t think the rest of these kids were made the same way El was either.

43.) Owens, are you actually surprised Brenner is putting El’s life in danger?

44.) a;lkdsjfaskdjf;all Murray oh my god. You should have just hit Yuri. You’re a black belt in karate, not intimidating.

45.) oh damn plane going down. And Joyce shooting a gun in the cockpit did not help.

46.) Okay Murray is terrible at intimidating but he did get to knock a dude out. Unfortunately.

47.) Murray oh my fucking god. That’s a nat 1 on operating a plane, bud.

48.) I just realized I think they’re doing Digital lighting for these effects of following the lights in the Creel house and BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. Rubbish. Swine. BOOOOOOOOO.

49.) This is fully breaking and entering from the boys. But also damn that’s a bad boat and damn piece of shit carver is a good swimmer. And is unhinged.

50.) Yeah, we fucking get it. Vecna is in the upside down attic.

51.) Damn, that death is still goofy as hell.RIP Patrick, your death was hilarious.

52.) I don’t think it’s actually possible to be up and at ‘em that soon after needing to be resuscitated. Even if you do have superpowers.

53.) I hate Brenner so much. El HAS A DAD. IT’S HOPPER.

#stranger things #stranger things rewatch #season 4 episode 5 #s4e5 #stranger things s4e5

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professorhotchkissesta · 5 years ago

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CW Nancy Drew Explained by Someone who has Not Watched CW Nancy Drew: (this got super long I’m sorry)

~Disclaimer: I did watch 1 episode (2 episodes?) a long time ago so I do know the following:

1. Ned went to prison. He now goes by Nick; I’m pretty sure this is unrelated to the prison thing.

2. Ghosts are real. One is called Dead Lucy. More than anything, this makes me question how many Lucy’s are in town that we need to clarify which one we’re talking about. Is there an alive Lucy? Blonde hair short Lucy? Schrodinger’s both alive and dead Lucy? Come to think of it, ghostly Lucy does kinda seems like a Schrodinger’s situation

3. Ace is Joe Hardy.

~~~Everything else I’m gonna say is mainly based on posts from Megan and Kaitie, so HERE WE GO:

1. There’s a guy named Owen and a guy named Ryan. One of them is a garbage man. I’ve gone back and forth on this but I’m not really sure which one is which. If pressed, I’m pretty sure Ryan is a reformed garbage man, and Owen is king of the trash, top tier garbage man.

2. One of the garbage peoples are dead. I presume this is gonna be the mystery of the second season. Idk which one it is, but I’m pretty sure it happened in the bath.

3. Not being able to distinguish between the garbage people is a shame because I’m pretty sure one is Nancy’s dad and the other is her boyfriend.

4. If I had to guess, I would say Reformed garbage man is Nancy father. This is causing AngstTM for Nancy rn.

5. Owen’s last name is not Spayder. Disappointing.

6. Bess is a gay icon and is dating a police officer. She and Ace are homies.

7. George puts up with a lot. NickNotNed and her seem to be becoming partners in both restauranteeing and life. I have no idea if they’re actually dating yet.

8. Side note: Wtf does Ned Nick want to own part of a seafood joint. I’m pretty sure the answer is something heartfelt and great, but without context it leaves me confused.

9. Actually Hold Up. Aren't these kids like 18-19? How do they own a restaurant? ALSO does anyone even eat there? It’s always empty in these screen shots. I know ghosts sometimes visit but they are NOT paying customers. They must be losing tons of money if they don’t already own the building. NedNotNick this seems like a terrible investment plan. Actually on further thought, terrible investment plan in the name of friendship seems like a very Ned thing to do, so who am I to judge.

10. What was I talking about again?

11. OH! Going through characters. Right. Okay. Ace is a cook? Or a detective? Or an undercover detective cook? He and Nancy share lots of heartfelt glances. Also he says endearing things like “Bone Time.” I’m pretty sure this refers to a very specific bone they stole but really what do I know. Also we don’t know his actual name because it’s Joe. Doesn’t do libraries because he hung out there too frequently as a child. Apparently he now has enemies there. Maybe he never paid a large overdue fine and now the head librarian/(his mother?) hates him. I’m pretty sure this is only a minor throw away remark, but I’ve seen it come up too much not to intensely analyze it. He and Nancy are Kaitie and Megan’s the fandom’s OTP. I’m pretty sure he kidnapped Carson once. Or broke him out of jail. Or kidnapped him after also breaking him out of jail. Carson didn’t seem to pleased about it.

12. Okay, sorry but I’m back here again: Who is running the restaurant when the ClawCrew is out mystery-ing? Does it close? Who else works there? Is there a second cook available when Ace is out committing felonies and library-fee evasions? This is why your restaurant is always empty George.

13. Carson might have killed Dead Lucy. Or I guess she was still technically alive Lucy back then. Okay, Carson might have killed Alive Lucy. I’m pretty sure he actually didn’t, but he was involved in some sus activity surrounding the whole ordeal. For some god forsaken reason he only got rid of the evidence recently. He does not seem to be the most intelligent.

14. Ace looks really good in gif and mood-board format

15. The meniscus of water curves (downward? upward?). Okay I checked, it’s downward. This leads to Ace enjoy a refreshing beverage in the River Heights evidence room. It is super romantic.

16. I’m pretty sure some other stuff happened.

17. A mystery was solved. Probably.

#cw nancy drew #cwnancydrew #cwnancydrewspoilers #cw nancy drew spoilers #spoilers #I have no idea how to actually use tags so I'm trying everything in case people are trying to block everything cw related #not that I think there are actual spoilers on here #Although maybe #who knows #I'm sorry everyone #The thought wouldnt leave me #Okay now time to go try to finish secrets can kill in 3 hours #wish me luck

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amhrosina · 2 years ago

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The Red Room - Pt. 2 (Matt Murdock x Reader)

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAGLIST

Part 1 Part 3 (Coming Soon)

Summary: You learn a secret about Matt as he continues to help you escape the Red Room. Your assignment grows more and more suspicious, and a trip down memory lane sends you spiraling.

(Warnings: guns, physical fighting, cursing, references to psychological torture, eventual smut lol, references to reader’s life as a Black Widow, reader threatens Matt, reader doesn’t know Matt is Daredevil, this is somewhat of a divergence from the canon story, watch me make shit up about the Red Room)

The air was somewhere close to freezing, even though the sun was out, and even then, it took you 15 minutes of shaking in your boots to realize that it had been months since you’d seen the sun. Your missions were almost always carried out at night, when you could use the darkness to your advantage. The rest of your time was spent training on the air carrier that the Widows called home base.

It was pure luck that you had been close enough to a payphone to call the number on the business card. You’d gotten a couple chances before then, but each time you’d dialed the number, you would lose your nerve and hang up before the first ring could finish. Not this time, though.

A polite, female voice answered, and you couldn’t tell if that soothed or unnerved you. The man on the roof had used ‘he’ when referencing his friend, so you weren’t exactly expecting a woman to be on the other end of the line.

“Can I help you?”

“Is Murdock in?” You ran your fingers along the cord, trying to ignore the tightness in your chest.

“Yes, I’ll transfer you now. Is he expecting your call?”

“I think so?”

The line trilled for a few moments before a man picked up, and god damnit if you didn’t recognize his voice almost immediately.

“This is Matthew Murdock. Can I ask who’s calling?”

“Oh. My fucking. God.” You muttered into the phone. You resisted the urge to hang up the phone and then destroy the payphone entirely.

“Excuse me?” Confusion rang clear in his tone.

“You’re the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen?”

“I see you’ve done some research.” Matt cleared his throat, but you could tell his signature smirk was resting on his face. “I’m assuming this is the girl from the roof?”

“I don’t know. Do you meet a lot of women on rooftops, Matthew?” You gritted your teeth.

“Not particularly. What took you so long to call?”

“I’ve been busy. And I had to wait until I knew it was safe to call, which by the way, isn’t guaranteed on these payphones. Meet me in the same place as last time in half an hour, okay?” You paused. “Please?”

“I’ll see you soon.”

The line clicked, and you listened to the dial tone for much longer than you meant to. Were you really doing this? You nodded, even though you weren’t talking to anyone. Yes, you were really doing this. This was your only shot at getting out, possibly finding your birth mother, and finally making a life of your own.

Matt found you on the roof not long after you’d settled down to observe your target. He was back at the same diner, and you were still under strict instructions not to kill him. You still didn’t understand why they’d send you on such low rank missions, but it wasn’t your job to ask questions. You were trained to obey.

When Matt cleared his throat behind you, you didn’t know what to expect in his appearance, but you certainly weren’t expecting red glasses and a walking cane. You eyed his dress suit. Clearly, he came straight from his office. He hadn’t dawned the costume for this meeting, which either meant he was planning on a quick meeting, or he didn’t think he needed to keep up appearances now that you’d figured out who he was.

“You’re blind.” The minute the observation was out of your mouth, you felt like a dumbass. Obviously he knew he was blind, and you clearly needed to work on your social skills if you were going to defect from the Red Room and enter the real world.

“Oh, shit. You’re right!” Matt laughed, folding his cane up and leaning against the ledge of the roof near you.

“Sorry.” You grimaced. “That came out wrong. What I meant to say was ‘Sorry for nearly killing you on the roof the other night.’”

“Ancient history, darling.” Matt grinned, pulling a manilla envelope from his jacket’s inner pocket.

“What’s that?”

“This is how we’re going to get you out. I helped another Widow a while back, and she gave me intel on the way the Red Room tracks the Widows. Everything you need to know is in that folder, and I’ll be running point on the technical stuff like passports, ID’s, and even library card records. You could be out and on the beach in Italy in three weeks if everything goes well.”

“That was fast.” You flipped through the different documents, some half-finished, some only missing a photo or a name.

“I started working on in the night we met.” He shrugged, like what he was doing wasn’t highly dangerous and an incredibly risky move.

“Thank you.” You squeaked, suddenly overcome with an emotion you couldn’t place. “Can I ask you to do something else for me?”

“Of course.”

“My birth mother,” you started, swallowing your fear, “I don’t know if you have any idea how I could find her. I don’t even know my birth name. And I can’t trust anything that I’ve been told about her.”

“I’ll see what I can do, but…” Matt bristled, clearly too uncomfortable to blatantly ask whatever he needed to know.

“What is it?” You asked, looking away from him.

“How do you feel about spitting in a cup?”

“Well, now that that’s sorted.” You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. To say that you didn’t have ‘spit in a cup for an almost-stranger’ on your to-do list today would be a massive understatement.

“It’s a stretch, but you’d be surprised how many records are digital now. If your mom was ever in the system, her DNA would be there, too. It’s a starting point, at least.”

“I wish I could give you more than a ‘thank you’, but I don’t actually own anything.” You muttered, wishing in that moment so badly that you’d had a normal childhood.

“Don’t worry about that. I’m sure we can think of ways for you to repay me.” Matt grinned, “Like cleaning the office toilet. And rubbing my feet after long nights.”

You laughed, and the sound startled you. When was the last time you’d laughed? Had it really been years since you’d had something to smile at, let alone laugh at? You wracked your brain to remember a time that you’d felt joy, or even a glimpse of happiness, but you came up empty.

“Where’d you go?” Matt asked, tilting his head.

“It’s nothing.” You shook your head, refocusing on the target you were supposed to be surveilling. He was in the same booth as last time, but much more sober and alert. He checked the time on his watch for the third time since he’d sat down, almost like he was waiting for someone to show up.

Matt returned the documents to the envelope while you glanced around the street below. Your eyes snagged on the two people entering the diner. The target was waiting for someone, like you had deduced, but what you hadn’t expected was that person to be a first grader with a glittery unicorn themed backpack on. The other person, who you guessed had to be the mother of the little girl, waved as she exited the diner and headed back the way she came.

You let out a slow breath. Whatever the Red Room’s goal was with this target, it couldn’t be good for that little girl. You dreaded the day your orders would come through, and hoped that Matt could get you out before that day came.

“Who is it that you’re watching?” Matt asked, unfolding his cane.

“Some tech genius that managed to piss off the wrong people. I’ve been watching him for weeks, but they haven’t asked me to pull the trigger yet. I didn’t know he had a kid, though.”

“Would you?”

“Would I what?” You asked. The girl was now showing your target her sparkly pencil case.

“Shoot him. If they asked you to.”

“I would’ve, once.” You admitted. “But their psychological bullshit doesn’t work on me anymore. I don’t want to be an assassin.”

“What do you want to be?” He pried, fiddling with his cane.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “But I know I don’t want to kill for Dreykov anymore.”

Matt nodded, seemingly satisfied with your response.

“What was the name of the Widow you helped?”

You had been wondering this since he’d mentioned it on the roof the first night you’d met. You couldn’t recall a Widow that had escaped, but they made sure to keep the Widows separated from each other for that very reason. There was no gossip, no friends, no connection when you were in the Red Room. You were a warrior, a clone, an assassin. You were one of Dreykov’s knives, a weapon of mass destruction, at best. At worst, you were no one and nothing.

“Natasha.” Matt responded. “Did you know her?”

Your blood ran cold. You knew Natasha. Everyone did, because she was public enemy number one for a Widow. If you found her, your orders, along with every single one of the thousands of active Widows in the Red Room, were to bring her to Dreykov. Dead or alive, he didn’t care, but Natasha had been missing for years, and no one could find any trace of her.

“No.” You finally replied. “I don’t know her.”

You didn’t know why you lied to him. Thus far, Matt had been the only person you had ever been able to trust, but something about opening up to him about your time in the Red Room felt wrong. You weren’t ready to expose the horrors you’d experienced in the Red Room, and certainly not to a man you barely knew.

“Okay.” Matt nodded and a small smile crept onto his face. “Just keep doing what you’re doing. They have no reason to suspect you. We’ll talk soon, okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded. “Thanks for all the help.”

“Thanks for not shooting me.”

Tag List:

@scoliobean @blue-03 @infinityisbright @myguiltypleasures21 @thegilrwiththeeyes1297 @goddesspsyche @mxxnligxt @xleiaorgana @mukbee @soft-emo-enby @purple-amaranthe @kokoterainonago666 @blackwidownat2814 @minervadashwood @emiemiemiii @h4rrys @messymissy @mylifeispainandiloveit @mossexe @alina02 @spikedhe4rt @fictional-hooman @thedevilwearsblack @merleisapartygod @legocity2 @violet-19999 @quackson03 @certifiedhunter @shoxji @layazul @dumb-fawkin-bitch @americaarse @lazyxsquirrel @honeysucklepotter @m0nster-fvcker @matthewmurdockswhore @thatgirljayy @hiyabyeyababy @alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv @chiaraxtargaryen @trulylavandedarling @D0wnbad @deliciousfestsalad @lilyevans1 @imagineadream @22carolina08 @definitelynotsugar @casualchaoticdevil @peachy-flxwr @nashja @xshewayout

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sacredsorceress · 4 years ago

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Green || Bucky Barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!reader

summary: three times bucky realized you were more than a friend and the one time he finally admitted it (based on events from tfatws)

a/n: finishing this in time for the season finale tomorrow! reblogs and/or replies are super appreciated!!

word count: 3.1k

warnings: mentions of reader wearing a short dress, jealous bucky

masterlist || request || taglist

“Nice of you guys to call me.”

Your hands in your jacket pockets, you announced your presence as you strolled up to the group of four men standing outside of the police station. You could basically feel the tension in the air as each man had a resolute expression written on all over their faces.

“What’s going on here?” You asked, slipping your hands out of your pockets and gesturing towards the group.

“What are you doing here?” Sam asked.

You might have been nicer about the situation if you weren’t utterly pissed that the two men hadn’t informed you about the mission that they had gone on.

“Incase you forgot, Sam, you’re not the only one who’s had to pick up where someone else left off. It’s my job to keep track of you guys.” You said. “... Also I’m Bucky’s emergency contact.”

“Well,” The blonde man leaning against the police cruiser said. “You’re a little late. I handled it.”

Looking up at the man in front of you, you gave him no inclination of defeat.

“You must be John Walker.” You said.

“So you’ve heard of me?” He smirked.

You crossed your arms, stepping away from the man who you had seen on television playing the role of Captain America. You had heard about the decision moments before the government had first displayed the impersonator on screen, but it had been too late for you to do anything about it or to inform Sam or Bucky in time for his appearance.

“I’ve heard of everyone.” You deadpanned.

“Yeah?” He asked, standing up straighter. “And who are you?”

Just as you were about to open your mouth, you felt Bucky’s hand land on your shoulder. Turning to glance at him, you watched as he shook his head, giving you a serious look. Despite the fact that you were now tasked with keeping track of the former members of the group of Avengers and were one yourself, you had been able to keep your identity a secret. Although to the world you were “Sorceress”- the Avenger with magical powers similar to those of Wanda Maximoff- to members of the team such as Bucky you were Y/n Y/l/n.

He didn’t trust John Walker and he didn’t want to bring you into their own mess. Although Bucky had been avoiding Sam’s text messages, Bucky had kept in constant touch with you since you first met him after he had come back from the Blip six months ago- even going as far as spending time together multiple times a week in person- not because you had to keep track of him, but because the two of you genuinely enjoyed spending time together.

You were the closest thing he had to normalcy and he didn’t want the knockoff version of his best friend messing it up not only for himself, but for you too.

However, you didn’t see much of a way out of it. You weren’t going to just leave Bucky and Sam to handle the situation on their own, but you also didn’t see a way that you could work alongside them and not have John and Lemar figure out your identity sooner or later.

Gently taking Bucky’s hand off of your shoulder, squeezing it lightly before dropping it, you reached out your hand to John Walker.

“Y/n Y/l/n.” You told him. “Sorceress... and I guess the current caretaker of the Falcon and the Winter Soldier.”

Later, after the group had dispersed and you followed Sam and Bucky as they walked in the opposite direction, you were surprised when you heard Bucky’s tone of voice when he finally spoke up again.

“You shouldn’t have given him your name, Y/n.” He said.

You shrugged, hands tucked into your pockets once again. “It’s fine, Buck.” You assured him. “There wasn’t much else I could do. He was going to find out eventually-”

“Don’t act so casual about it. This is your identity- your life- and you’re just going to share it with some asshole like John Walker?”

“Woah!” You exclaimed, stopping in your spot. “What’s your problem, Buck? Why do you care so much?”

Noticing how both you and Sam were staring at him with furrowed eyebrows, trying to comprehend why he was making such a “big deal” about it, Bucky grew embarrassed, not understanding himself why he cared so much. Rather than admitting defeat however, Bucky threw up his hands, scoffing.

“Forget it, Y/n. I don’t care. Do what you want.”

And with that he picked up the pace, walking in the opposite direction of where you and Sam stood confused in your spots.

“I couldn’t have worn something- I don’t know- a bit longer?” You called to the three men ahead of you, following them into the club as you tugged on the hem of your short dress.

“This a club in Madripoor, Y/n.” You heard Zemo say. “If you wore anything else you would be giving us away.”

Groaning you steadied yourself in your heels following behind Zemo and Sam. You slowed your pace to walk besides Bucky who had insisted on being at the back of the line behind you- telling everyone that it would be safer for everyone if he kept their backs covered.

“How are you feeling?” You asked as quietly as you could in the loud club.

“What?” He asked.

“How are you feeling? With the while Winter Soldier thing? If you don’t think you can handle it we can find another way-”

“It’s fine, Y/n.” He said. “Don’t worry about me.”

Instead of letting it go, you gently placed your hand on his exposed, vibranium arm, causing him to stop in his spot, looking at you.

“Bucky, I’m serious.” You said. “You matter too. If you can’t handle it, I’ll find a way to get the information without all of this, okay? I care about you, Buck. Just say the word.”

He almost couldn't focus on the words coming out of your mouth as he tried to keep his eyes focused on your face, rather than trailing down your body, finally noticing just how short the dress that was adorning your body was. As good as you looked in green, he swore he would kill Zemo once he got what he needed from him for dressing you in that.

As gorgeous as you were, however, your words meant everything to him and he hung on to every single one- no matter what you were saying. Hearing the sentiment that you had for him and that you would stick your neck out for him of all people made him speechless.

Just as he was about to open his mouth however, the two of you began to feel the eyes of other partygoers staring the two of you down. As soon as you noticed, you quickly snatched your hand away from his arm and continued your pace in front of him, Bucky quickly following behind.

“Distracted?” Zemo asked as Bucky stopped beside him at the bar.

Rather than answering, Bucky remained silent, falling into character with the thought of your shared interaction still playing over and over in his mind.

Coughing on his hands and knees, trying to process what had just happened, all Bucky could hear was the obnoxious sound of the alarm blaring. When he opened his eyes again he saw the shipping container now consumed with flames and illuminated with a daunting red light. Recalling what had just occurred, he scrambled to his feet, calling out for you.

“Y/n?” He called. “Y/n!”

When he didn't immediately hear your voice, he began to feel his heart race in his chest. What if something happened to you? What if you were too close to the explosion? He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if something had happened to you. Just as he was beginning to start hyperventilating, the smoke catching in his chest causing him to double over and heave, he felt your hands wrap around either of his biceps.

“Buck?” You asked. “I’m- I’m so sorry. It happened so fast I couldn’t get a forcefield around everyone. Thank God you’re okay. I was so afraid something happened-”

Cutting you off, Bucky shook your hands off of his arms, instead pulling you into his arms. Although you and the super soldier had spent more quality time than you could count together prior to starting this mission, you had never hugged before, but being in his arms you couldn’t find a single complaint, instead silently wrapping your arms tightly around his torso, running your hands up and down his back.

“Hey it’s okay, Buck. I’m okay.” You said. “Let’s go, okay? Before this thing collapses on us.”

After that the two of you had followed Sam and Sharon into the area of shipping containers, taking out hitman by hitman along the way, when you had finally gotten through all of them, you watched as Zemo pulled up in a car besides the four of you.

“Nice ride.” You said as Bucky slipped into the front seat of the vehicle, yourself sliding into one of the seats in the back row.

“Thank you, Y/n.” Zemo replied, patting Bucky on the chest. “She’s a woman of taste.”

Bucky swore to himself for the second time within the past 12 hours that when given the chance he was going to kill the man beside him- with or without his therapist’s approval.

“You’re not going to move your seat up are you?” Sam asked.

“Nope.” Bucky said.

“That’s fine.” Sam conceded. “I guess I’ll just chill back here with Y/n.”

You laughed as Sam laid his arm against headrest of the backseats of the car.

“I’m fine with that.” You said. “Just me and my favorite person.”

Now Bucky knew that you were kidding, only teasing him to get a rise out of him, but glancing at the backseat and seeing Sam’s arm practically around your shoulders and you calling him your favorite person... just didn’t sit right with Bucky. Just as Zemo’s foot was about to hit the gas, Bucky shifted the car into park, swinging the door open and stepping out of the vehicle.

“What-”

“You can have the front.” Bucky said, swinging Sam’s door open.

“It’s really okay, Buck-”

“You said you wanted more space so you can have the front.” He said. “Go sit in the front.”

You watched as Sam turned to you, quirking his eyebrows before shrugging and stepping out of the car, switching to the passenger seat. You almost wanted to laugh as you watched Bucky squeeze into the backseat behind the passenger seat, his knees practically up against his chest.

“You good?” You asked.

Despite the groan that had involuntarily escaped his mouth from the discomfort of the front seat digging into his knees, Bucky nodded, stretching his arm out across the backseat, behind your shoulders.

“I’m great.” He assured you. “Now drive, Zemo.”

Although you didn’t catch it, the two men sitting in the front seat- despite their differences- couldn’t help but throw each other a knowing look before the car took off for their next destination.

“Hey!” Torres called. “I see you got your sleeve back!”

You chuckled as you turned to glance at the man stood beside you. Despite it being a joke, not a single hint of a smile cracked the man’s hard exterior. The only reason he didn’t walk out of the room on the spot was because you were standing beside him.

“He’s just in a bad mood today.” You said, reaching your hand out to shake Torres’. “I’m Y/n.”

Taking your hand and shaking it in his, he furrowed his eyebrows. “What are you doing hanging around these guys?” He asked. “...Not that you can’t handle yourself! Sam just won’t even invite me on these things.”

Pulling your hand away from his, you smiled. “Think you can keep a secret?”

As soon as you asked the question you watched as the confusion written all over his face grew even more and you could hear Sam chuckling in the background.

“I’m Sorceress.” You said. “Like the Avenger? I just try to keep my identity pretty secret, you know?”

As soon as you revealed your identity to him, you watched as the man’s face dropped and he turned to look at Sam who was standing behind him.

“Wait- she’s-” Torres stuttered.

Sam nodded, laughing.

“Yep.” Sam said. “She’s the one you’ve been hounding me about setting you up with.”

Although you weren’t paying attention to him, Bucky had already disliked how the conversation was going- finding Torres to be a little too friendly for his liking and not loving that you exposed your identity to him immediately- but when he heard Sam’s confession, he stiffened in his spot, hands balling into fists at his side.

“What? Dude!” Torres exclaimed, glancing back and forth between you and Sam before finally turning back to you, chuckling nervously. “He's just kidding! I would never have a crush on you- wait! That came out wrong! Not that you’re not pretty because you are- I just think you’re cool-”

You continued laughing as the man stumbling over his words in front of you, finding it endearing until you heard the super soldier scoff beside you. You glanced at him only to see him cross his arms while rolling his eyes before making his way out of the room.

Turning back to Torres you gave him a quick smile, pulling a card out of your pocket. “I have to go, but it was nice to meet you Torres. If these boys get in trouble again, make sure to call me first thing, okay?”

He took the card from your hand, nodding. “Uh yeah- yeah! Of course!”

With that you waved to both him and Sam before following the path Bucky had taken out of the room seconds before.

Seeing his figure pacing across the room, you threw your arms up in the air.

“What’s your problem?” You asked.

Stopping in his spot he turned to face you.

“What?” He said. “I don’t have a problem.”

You couldn’t help but scoff, crossing your arms.

“Uh yeah. You do.” You said. “Did I do something to piss you off or something? Are you mad at me for coming on the mission? Because I’m sorry if I wanted to help save the world and make sure you guys didn’t get killed in the process.”

Bucky just stopped and stared at you standing across from him with your arms crossed. He hated to admit it, but you look pissed at him. It hurt knowing that you were upset with him, but it hurt a little more knowing that you felt as though he was mad at you when in actuality that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“Y/n.” He said, stepping closer to you. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Then why did you just storm out of the room?” You asked.

He couldn’t think of a reason besides the truth. He could lie and say that he was mad at you, but that wouldn’t solve the situation for anyone and could possibly strain your relationship farther- and that was the last thing he could possibly want.

The two of you stood there in silence, staring at one another as Bucky attempted to find the words in his head to ease your concern without exposing himself in the process.

But you were never one to back down with him.

“Bucky,” You said. “What’s the problem? What did I do? Why are you so angry-”

“Because I don’t like the way that guy was talking to you!” He exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air.

“What?” You asked. “What are you talking about?”

Bucky realized he was in it now. He couldn’t see a way out of it.

For the past week, Bucky couldn’t help but notice that he cared for you a bit more than friends should. Maybe he always did. He thought back to the times he would eagerly await your weekly lunches or the comfort he felt when you took him furniture shopping after seeing his empty apartment for the first time. He thought back to the times you would show up outside of his door when he was upset because you were the only person he trusted there with him in those intimate moments- he knew that you were more than just his colleague, but he realized now that you were more than his friend.

Recently it became more obvious, the burning in his chest he felt when others became a little too comfortable with you- he attempted to mask it with just wanting to protect you, but he knew you could handle yourself. He was protective over you so he wouldn’t lose you.

Just when you opened your mouth to speak again, he cupped your face in his hands. He watched as your eyes widened, but didn’t make any move to stop him. When he caught your eyes trailing from his eyes to his lips, he pulled you towards him, meeting your lips in the middle.

Maybe it was because he hadn’t kissed anyone in eighty years, but he had never felt the way he had in that moment before. He was so utterly consumed in you- the feeling of your hands reaching for his jacket, tugging him closer as you deepened the kiss, your soft lips against his, your warm breath against his face- he was lost in it.

When you finally pulled away, he didn’t want to let go, but leaned back anyway, staring at his world- you- that he now held in his hands.

“Buck...”

“I think I like you more than a friend.” He confessed.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face at his words. You had always cared for Bucky as more than just your former fellow Avenger, but knowing that he felt the same as you was something you could hardly believe.

“I think I do too.” You laughed, then recalled what you had come in there for in the first place. “James, were you... were you jealous?”

Thinking back over the past week the two of you had spent together on the mission, he could almost laugh at the question you had just asked.

“You’re joking, right?” He chuckled. “Yeah. You could say I was a little bit jealous.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #Bucky Barnes drabble #bucky barnes blurb #Bucky Barnes fluff #Bucky Barnes angst

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zaritarazi · 2 years ago

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WAIT back up people are rebranding the omegaverse to be less nasty? THAT'S THE SECRET SAUCE OF OMEGAVERSE. IT'S THE HORNY WET AND WILD WEIRD MONSTERUCKING FANTASY TROPE BUCKET what on EARTH needs rebranding

alright. for the sake of integrity i am downloading this app to investigate. this will be in my app store history forever, by the way

i'm gonna level with you i started doing a deep dive and came up here to add a read more because i've just gotten to the point of this whole thing and we're not even in the deep end yet

so first the app is asking to allow notifications. immediate deny. next, it would like me to set up a profile. i can pick from the Three Genders (female, male, other) and my age.

it would like me to choose up to 3 of my favorite genres. the genres offered to me are:

romance

billionaire

mystery

erotica

werewolf

fantasy

thriller

paranormal

now of course, my immediate concern is that erotica seems to be its own category, where i'm assuming all of these books have fucking in them and i'm going to be really upset if they aren't all smut

additionally, i don't think the billionaire category is about becoming an agent of the proletariat, infiltrating the bourgeoisie, killing the billionaire, and redistributing the wealth. in minecraft. red son superman would never stand for this

okay now my cat (tarazi) is loafing on my phone. i think she's trying to protect me.

here is the photo for the "werewolf" category, which i think raises more questions than it answers

okay so that's not what a werewolf looks like, to my knowledge

top stories in werewolf. we have "alpha knows best" and we have "mated to my alpha stepbrother" which- i looked at the summary and he's not her stepbrother yet, they're college seniors and he's the son of her mom's new boyfriend who i guess is going to be her mate? but any time you have to say "it's not technically incest" it's not great, ryan!

okay here's a top story called "alpha max." no this one is in high school, backing out immediately.

also want to mention the stepbrother one just updated an hour ago. so this is like wattpad but i think the writers get paid? it has 54 fucking chapters

so these aren't finished, published works. i mean they're published in a way, but they're not whole stories, which i guess explains why the site advertises itself as "romance & fanfiction books" when all of the content is original sort of technically? it updates like a fic site.

so! here's what we're looking for. these stories have microspecific tags, but where there is "alpha" there is "luna." i have seen this a few times- okay wait! here's something interesting. i have found a story listed in popular werewolf that is lgbtq+. This alpha has a straight mate? Okay steven whatever helps you sleep at night. now HERE is something interesting. this has "alpha" as a tag, but no "luna," but ALSO no "omega." INTERESTING.

okay, let's go into the lgbtq+ tag on here and. see if that gives us more insight

OKAY! OKAY! this DOES have stories with omegas in it! is the second one listed bts fic? yes! okay but the FIRST one that comes up is called "my omega" bills itself as having a "female" alpha and "male" omega, although this description is so incredibly, beautifully problematic that it really defies common conventions of thought

okay i skimmed the first 50 words and the "female" alpha is... gross. like misogynist gross. so we're back at square fucking one here folks

okay here's a different one where they use Omega specifically as like... an Evil Luna? which is like- there is ALMOST something here by accident. like YES! make a lilith complex! i know that's not what you're doing, but you should! there's a hint of an idea here! you're so close to doing something almost maybe a little bit interesting!

to circle back to the original question of our study, "are they making omegaverse less nasty?" i think it's a complicated answer. the people who write for this app would probably balk at being called less nasty or not smutty enough, but at the same time, they've taken conventional romance and just put a slightly furry skin on it. and i know when you criticize the romance genre people are like "so you don't think women can read?" and i'm like you know what? maybe i fucking don't. maybe none of us should read and we can all run directly back into the sea. if one fucking amoeba millions and millions of years ago hadn't gotten above its station and crawled out of the ocean, we could all be jellyfish right now, and this wouldn't be in my downloads history. forever. again. i am stuck with this in my history forever

like the omegaverse has a very storied history but it's kind of wild to restyle it in a way that makes it more misogynist. like this was invented by people watching supernatural. and somehow this crop of "writers" is worse to women

i honestly hesitate to call this omegaverse at all. i know there were articles a few years ago about legal battles in the world of omegaverse and plagiarism and all that jazz, but this is not omegaverse. this is barely werewolf. this is soulmates with some growling. and so really, what's the fucking point?

okay wait this one is 2 alphas sharing an omega. now we're back to fucking literature

#omegaverse tag #i think this app requires a deep dive but i don't have the mental defenses prepared for it #asks #swashbucklery #long post

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en-hale-archives · 4 years ago

Text

Me with You ~~

pairing ⑅ bestfriend!Jake x fem!reader

genre ⑅ friends to lovers, fluff, slow dancing, suggestive/smut

words/read time ⑅ 3.9k/12-19 mins

warnings ⑅ 18+ content, light cussing

synopsis ⑅ Jake is back in his hometown to spend time with his closest friend. During some fun and frivolous dancing, things start to heat up...

author's note ⑅ I’m really proud of how this story turned out. I'm not a huge fan of second person, so I wrote in first, but if anyone asks, I can copy and post again in second person. It's more fluff than anything, but it does get a bit steamier towards the end, so I’m just going to go ahead and put a warning.

————✧————

When the back door finally slammed shut and the cacophony of barks faded down the street, I could finally let out my sigh of relief that I had been holding in since this morning. I tapped on my phone. How many days had we been watching Mrs. Chen’s pets? And just how was I able to put up with hours of barking, the smell of fresh turd lying across the lawn, and dog walks till dark? Including their rigorous feeding times and bathroom breaks -- I’m surprised I haven’t exploded yet.

I had so much planned the minute they left my house, but instead, the sudden silence felt all too relaxing and I laid my head against the cold countertop. I could finally stop stressing, stop thinking, and stop worrying about reprimanding for chewing on my shoes or peeing in the house or the continued barking that never ended. I was free. I felt like I could’ve stayed laid on the countertop forever, drowning in the evening sun. Who knew watching five dogs would take such a burden out of a person. Jake and I had taken on the job of dog sitting for Mrs. Chen while she visited some family in Tokyo. We both switched off every other day; some of the dogs at my house and the others at his; until we realized it would be easier if he just spent the few days at my house as we co-doggy sat. He got up bright and early to take them on their walks while I prepared their highly detailed and specific meals. Then from there, we spent the rest of the day making sure they didn’t run off somewhere or cause too much destruction in the house. But alas, Mrs. Chen came back early from her getaway and picked up Toby, Caleb, Khao, Sofia, and Pickle on her way home. Although I was exhausted from watching 3-foot dogs all day, the pay was amazing for me, and it would help tremendously for all the online classes I was going to be taking next semester.

The warmth of the sun cast a comforting trance over my heavy eyelids, and soon enough I was fast asleep, standing in the middle of the kitchen with the soft sound of nothing surrounding me.

By the time I had fluttered my eyes open, I had realized I was now seated in my dining chair and a large black jacket was placed over my shoulders. I sat up and let out a yawn, wincing at the bright light coming from the tv and shaking my now numb arm awake. I must have been sleeping for a while because the evening sun had turned to pitch of black. The moonlight beamed through the window and danced along with the sways of the large oak tree out front. I stood up and walked over to the refrigerator in which I grabbed two water bottles and some leftover pasta.

I was sure that Jake hadn’t eaten since lunch, seeing as he only ate if someone sat food in front of his face. I dragged my feet up the stairs until I heard the slamming of a book and the fast typing of a keyboard come from the living room. I turned and looked behind me. Jake had settled his things on the coffee table and floor, large books, folders, and several amounts of crumpled up pieces of paper found their way around Jake, himself slouched up against the edge of the couch. He had changed clothes since the last time I had seen him, he now wore a plain blue shirt with grey sweats, his eyebrows furrowed as he worked hard on whatever he was getting at.

“Oh yes, I was starving!” Propping himself up on the couch, he took the plate of pasta. I placed the waters on the coffee table and settled comfortably on the couch beside him.

“I can’t say that I’ve ever seen anybody sleep standing up before. Look,” Jake took his phone off the charger. “I got a picture.” He pushed the screen in my face, and of course, there was my unconscious body laying on the counter, mouth open and all. I playfully pushed it back his way as his face lit up with a smile I was all too familiar with.

“What are you doing down here so late, it’s almost 12 in the morning,” I asked. Jake’s smile disappeared when he was reminded of the work he had been doing seconds before.

He let out a large huff of air. “Trying to get some words on paper but instead it turned into a paper massacre,” he jokingly replied, “sorry for the mess.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I replied, taking a swig of water. I was going to ask if he wanted to watch a late-night movie, or pull an all-nighter and talk endlessly until the sun rose, but I could tell by each passing second that Jake was worried about this, and he wanted the time he had now over the summer to work on his music. I wished I was motivated to work on my own music, but unlike Jake, I wasn’t in a globally popular boy band. My complicated best friend for over 10 years had been working his butt off since middle school. It was his annual time to sit back and relax while he had the time to, but instead, he chose to use that time to help watch a bunch of dogs with his hometown bestie. God, I loved him.

Jake pulled himself off the couch and right back onto the floor, leaving the rest of the pasta to me. He picked up his pen again and started scribbling down words as quickly as he could, trying hard not to forget the lyrics that had floated into his head. Until he stopped, closing his eyes for just a split second, and let out a powerful sigh. Crumpling up the sheet, he stacks it on top of the others in frustration and started frantically tapping his pencil against the table.

“Maybe it’s best to just try again in the morning,” I advised, taking a small bite of the pasta that was left by my side.

“How come I’m having such a hard time with this?” He gazed up at me frantically for a clue, as if I had the answer to fix a problem as big and as important as his was. I looked at his doleful eyes and the bags that were starting to grow underneath them. I couldn’t help but think, because I made you sit up and watch a bunch of dogs with me.

“Do you want me to see if I could come up with something?”

“If you want. But, hold on, I think my thoughts are coming back up.” He quickly grabbed another piece of paper, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

I tried my best to keep occupied by watching videos on my phone, but I found myself suddenly bored out of my mind. I laid out on my back and picked up one of Jake’s folders. Briefly looking through it, I couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous at the amount of fan art and letters, praising him and the other members. Followed with that were just more and more engene stuff, full of nothing but kind words and heartfelt messages. Part of me wished that I was able to travel with Jake and see the world like he was. How fun would it be to meet people that praised you? And how cool would it be to see that you had fans? I couldn’t help but plaster on a huge smile as I skimmed through some of the notes until I finally came to one with familiar handwriting.

Remember Me were the words written on the top of the paper in bold and bright colors. But the message written underneath is what caught my attention:

To the person that makes me the luckiest guy in the world, this song is for you. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, but please just remember me -- it was Jake’s handwriting.

I didn’t feel like I was breaking any crime reading his stuff until this moment, but curiosity killed the cat, and right now I didn’t mind being a feline. I checked to make sure Jake was still busy, and he was, almost like he had teleported into his own world. I quietly turned back to the sheet and started reading. It was about a girl, presumably his crush I’m sure. She was someone important to him, someone who made him love so much that it hurt. But this was far from a happy song, in fact, it was terribly heartbreaking. She didn’t understand his love, she wasn’t able to interpret it like he wanted her to. But he confesses that he was scared of what telling her would do, worried that she wouldn’t feel the same. So instead, it was like he was apologizing, and asking that she forgive him for not being brave enough to tell her, and if he did ever get the courage to, for her to remember him even if she wasn’t able to love him like he wanted her to.

The song ends like how the title began, and I find myself flabbergasted at the beautiful mixes of rhymes and metaphors that read like a poem. This was the first of Jake’s songs that made me feel this way, like I had just finished watching a tragedy movie with Ryan Renolds starring. I blink back the tears that I didn’t realize were forming. How come he never told me this? We never kept secrets from each other, like ever. It never mattered the subject or the severity, we had always promised that we would be open and honest with each other. I wish I would’ve known this sooner, maybe I could’ve saved him from feeling this way. And what girl could it possibly be? I knew for sure I was the only girl he was presumably close to; but was there someone else?

I glanced down at Jake, who was still in a focused state of mind with the pencil in his mouth and mumbling lyrics softly under his breath. I tried picturing my bubbly Jake writing these agonizing words and miserably failed.

Jake looked up at me as if he could feel my gaze on the back of his head. “I think I’ve found the chorus, but it’s the rest of the song I’m not able to get, and how come it’s so hard to find another word that rhymes with severe? Beer? Sphere? Revere? Appear? Gosh, rhyming sucks some serious ass!”

“This song is beautiful.”

Jake furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Huh?”

“This song I found in your folder.” I glanced back at it in my hand. “Remember Me.”

Jake’s gaze leaped from my eyes to the sheet, and I felt his body tense. “Where’d you get that from?”

“I was just going through one of your folders. Did you accidentally get it mixed up in your fan folder? Cause this is -”

“Did you read it?” He interrupted.

“Yeah, and it’s perfect.”

Jake glanced at me for a split second before turning back around, obviously uncomfortable. “I was watching one of those Kdramas you love so much and it inspired me. Could you help me rhyme with severe now?”

I knew Jake like the back of my hand, so I knew continuing on with this conversation would get him upset if he’s clearly avoiding it. But, I wasn’t going to just let him off that quickly. “Jake, come on, you can tell me anything. Who is this about?”

Jake looked back at me with a hint of something in his eyes, something I’ve never seen before, and something I wasn't able to decipher. “Nobody, I was just feeling really inspired, that's it.” His tone had switched from calm to agitated.

I give him my I’m-not-stupid look and he comes back with his own you’re-being-delusional stare. “It’s seriously nobody, truthfully and honestly.”

“Okay, okay I’ll back off.” I could tell he was starting to get defensive, and when he got like that, it took him at least a few hours before returning to normal. I watched Jake's Adam's apple move up and down, a way in which I could tell he knew I was not convinced in the slightest. “Well, sometimes we go through things that can remind us of situations like that, but not necessarily in that same exact context, you know? It has to be amplified for that audience appeal.”

“Okay...but have you ever felt this way before? Not exactly like how it’s written, but maybe somewhere along these lines?”

I thought I was going to get another vague answer, or worse, an aggravated one. But instead Jake looked down at his pencil as he tapped it along his wrist. “...maybe, but I think everyone can connect to the words in some way. I mean, everyone feels some kind of heartbreak in their life, right?” Jake's answer was still pretty vague, but at least I was able to get something out of him.

“Okay, but you know you can tell me anything, like, anything ever because you know that you’ll never actually have to feel this way, right?” I said, maybe too much in a hurry.

“Of course I know that.” He replied, giving one of his awkward grins.

“And if anyone has made you feel this way, then you know you can tell me that too cause there a sucker to lose out on a perfect person like you.” I teased in a sing-song way, poking his shoulder hard. Jake chuckled and poked me back.

A weird silence grew in the room, and Jake went back to trying to find rhyming words. I tried getting back on my phone, but I knew I needed to say something to let go of the tenseness in the air.

“Hey, crystal clear rhymes!”

He leaned his head back and looked up at me. “Nevermind, I give up for tonight.”

I could see the stress that played on his face. “Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, but by the time I do, it’ll be too late.”

“What do you mean?”

Jake pulled his knees up to his chest and spoke. “This was going to go on our album comeback that needs to be finished in the next four months. By the time I think of something, it'll be too late and I’ll have to wait until the next four months. But by then, I'll have forgotten. This always happens and I have no idea how the hell to fix it.” I couldn’t tell if he wanted my help or just a bit of comfort.

“Did you try asking the other guys to see if they had any ideas?”

“Yeah, but they’re working on their own parts, I can’t ask them to do this too.”

“I’m sure they’d be willing to help if you asked,” I assured him.

“I know they would, but I just don’t want to. I always ask them for help, I thought being away from the studio and being back home would help my brainstorming abilities.” He gave a weary chuckle that almost sounded like a groan.

“Well, maybe tomorrow will come with better results.” I did my best to give him some motivation, but I could tell I was failing miserably at that too.

Jake watched as a car zoomed past the window, a low bass sounding off as it zoomed away. “I bet it’s easier to just listen to music than to try and come up with it. I remember when I would just blare NCT all day long and jam out in my room. It seemed so much easier back then to come up with stuff than it does now. I miss it.” He took a slight pause before continuing. “ Did you know that song you read was the easiest thing I have written in my life? I remember writing too. I just had this super weird feeling in my chest one day so I basically locked myself in my room and took maybe two hours and just wrote a bunch of words down and connected them to sound like a song. For once my mind had just gone blank and I couldn’t stop thinking and feeling that song, like I knew what it was supposed to sound like, I knew what the lyrics were supposed to mean. I just knew everything. And I miss that feeling, that feeling of like- '' He broke off his sentence when he looked back up to my eyes. It seemed like he was talking more to himself than to me. He swallowed hard and looked back at the pencil still in hand.

“Well, I'm sorry you don’t feel free anymore. I wish there was something I could do to make you feel like that again-”

“No, please don’t feel like that. It’s just something that had just recently started happening, something I really just can’t fix…” His voice gets softer and softer the more he spoke.

“Have you spoken to your manager about it?” I asked. “He’s super nice from what I understand. And he’ll probably have better answers than your friend who can barely play the piano, let alone produce an entire song.”

Jake laughed before I had the chance to. “ See, now you're underestimating yourself. Remember that song from freshman year? The one about-- what was his name, Josh?” Jake teased. I grabbed a pillow and slammed it into the back of his head. “Oh my gosh, I thought we promised we’d never bring it up again!”

Jake chuckled and laid his arm on the couch completely turning towards me. “How about we sneak out and go get ice cream and try to not wake up your mom in the process?”

I suddenly jumped to my feet when I have the perfect idea on how to cheer up the gloomy Mr. Shim. “Or, we could do something even better!”

“Urgh!” Jake groaned.

I grabbed my phone and hooked it up to the speaker. I was going to turn on his hit song Drunk-Dazed as a joke, but Jake needed this break from his career, so instead, I crunk up Beyonce as loud as it could go without disturbing my mom who slept upstairs. I turn back to Jake and reach out for his hands, already moving my hips to the music.

He shook his head and threw it back onto the couch as if throwing a temper tantrum. “I literally dance for a living.”

“Okay but this will be different, I promise.” I grabbed the piles of papers on the ground and threw them in the trash, I then pushed the coffee table near the wall and piled his folders and books neatly on top.

“Come on, cowboy!” I grabbed his hands and helped him up. He was reluctant to get up, but he threw one last groan before standing on his feet.

“This will get the brain juices flowing again!” I told him. I go back to my phone and switch it to one of my favorite Beyonce songs that she covered, At Last.

I sang dramatically to get Jake to smile, and luckily, it worked. I placed both my hands over his shoulders and swayed us back and forth, still miming the song as overly exaggerated as I could. Jake still couldn’t help but smile, and it didn’t take him long to join me in the rhythm and sway naturally with me. I learned at our middle school dance that Jake had perfect rhythm. He was able to impress the rest of the crowd when he busted out moves from BTS. Everyone was impressed, including me.

Now we were on a steady roll. I accidentally stepped on his feet a few times, but it was fine seeing as I was wearing foam flip-flops and he was barefooted. After a while, the song switched and played another of my favorites that didn’t match our style of dance, but we still moved slowly to the beat. Jake tried twirling me, but since I have two left feet, I almost ended up hitting the wall each time and Jake laughed loud at my clumsiness. The moonlight from the kitchen had now switched to the window in the living room. It gleamed through and glistened on Jake like a spotlight, just like the ones on the stage did for him. In a split second, I was reminded that he wouldn’t be here forever, just like he wasn’t here for the past year. I tried to not let it settle on my face that I was scared to see him go again, so I played up on the fun we were having now. Jake looked like he was at ease; finally, since he’d been here, he looked genuinely happy and I wasn’t going to ruin that.

After another handful of songs full of laughs and giggles, we were soon sweating and taking deeper breaths than normal. Each song was different from the one before, but it didn’t stop us from sticking to our style of dance. Even with the simplicity of the moves and the slowness of the steps, I had to take a minute to relax. I hooked my arms around his neck and rested my entire body on his. I could feel Jake’s own sweat seeping through his shirt, But I didn’t mind the wetness that was now attached to my cheek. I thought he would act awkward and ask for me to pull away, but instead, he gripped tighter on my hips and started slowly moving me side to side. I let out a long overdue sigh, trying my best to match the steady breathing of Jake’s with my own. It was actually therapeutic: hearing his heartbeat in one ear and the softness of the music in the other.

I tried to continue our steady breathing together, but his had picked up a bit, almost out of nowhere. I felt the heat of his breath on the nape of my neck, and it made my entire body tingle in a way it never had before. After this sudden feeling, I realized just how close we really were. His leg hair tickled my legs, I could feel the bone of his foot connecting to mine, I could feel his thin waist against mine as well. I felt like I needed to back up, but instead, I couldn’t and continued to sway softly against him. A few seconds later, Jake’s hands rose a little higher, planting themselves on my waist and tightening their grip as if they were trying to pull me closer than we already were.

The sensation hadn’t stopped though, it clung to my body like my damp shorts did on my thighs. Sooner or later I felt pressure on the lower part of my stomach and thought for sure that Jake was messing around and wasn’t feeling what I was, which indicated that I needed to pull back before this feeling became too much.

This is so embarrassing. I thought. How could I let myself feel like this? How was this in any way okay? I finally pulled back, the sensation becoming too unbearable, and glanced up at his face. His pupils were large in a way I hadn’t seen before. His mouth was slightly open and a drop of sweat slowly traced down his forehead, onto his nose. That pressure I was feeling on my stomach had now doubled in force, and Jake's face had switched from calm and subtle, to alarmed and panicked...

————✧————

(part 2 possibly...?)

Thank you guys so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Please, leave any constructive criticism you have on helping improve my writing!

————✧————

None of the images are mine, They all belong to their rightful owners :)

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kodzukyan · 4 years ago

Text

better with you (until it kills me)

notes: it's always missing baji hours here </3 fluff, angst; alternative ending: always, always you

summary: four times you think you are in love with baji keisuke, and the one time you tell him.

wc: 3.7k

You're reasonably sure the only reason he chooses you to pair up with for the Japanese literature project is that you sit next to him, but it surprises you all the same. You don't think you have much of a presence in class, but you don't think you can say the same about your new partner, Baji Keisuke.

His slicked-back ponytail and thick frames make his presence seem like a poindexter, but there's something about his bruised knuckles and his fierce aura that makes him feel ferocious. You've noticed him hang out with the school delinquent on multiple occasions. You also think you've seen him laugh wildly as he beats up some of the local thugs who crowded around the said delinquent he's friends with.

He isn't who you expect him to be at first glance, and that intrigues you more than you like to admit. You're too nervous to openly ask, so you settle for stealing glances at him from the corner of your eyes.

So, when he really decides on you and submits the partner form, you don't know what to think.

In the time that you two are partners, you've discovered a couple of things about him. First, his handwriting and kanji absolutely suck. Despite that, he writes a letter addressed to someone named Kazutora every week without fail. As if that isn't endearing enough, it gets even more so when he pouts at the complex characters that he often gets wrong and the inevitable smile that breaks out whenever you show him how to write them correctly.

("Oh, thanks! I would probably fail my kanji tests without you and Chifuyu. Kazutora probably can't even understand what I'm saying," he laughs rambunctiously.)

Second, he's genuinely an unexpectedly good partner in terms of being punctual about meeting up. However, despite being on time, there is little progress on the project. Your work times often end up in discussions about random life topics rather than the project itself.

(“Do you like cats?” he asks out of the blue one day, head on the table and books already forgotten.

“Uh, yeah, I guess so,” you humor him because you’re also tired of researching Japanese literature.

“Wanna see my cats? They’re all strays,” he sits up suddenly, eyes lit and smile bright.

You nod, and he proceeds to take out his phone to show you pictures of his cats. You note his lock-screen is a picture of all his cats, and his camera roll is just full of his friends and mom, motorcycles, and the said cats. With shining eyes full of excitement, he tells you their names and their personalities in detail.

"Do you think cats recognize their names but choose to ignore us whenever we call them?" he resumes the conversation after he finishes showing you his gallery. He leans back as he balances his pencil on top of his pursed lips.

"Maybe. Depends on the cat? Maybe they just hate you?" you mimic his pose. You suppose thirty minutes of work is enough progress for the day.

"Ouch," he grimaces as if it shatters him directly in the heart.)

Third, sometimes he comes with his hair down and without his glances, with stains on his clothes that he claims are ketchup, despite it not smelling like that at all.

("Uh, hey, sorry I'm late today," he offers sheepishly as he runs a hand through his unbound hair.

"Oh, it's okay," you finally say after you take in his shaggy appearance. You try not to think about how handsome he is despite the bruises forming on his face. "Are you… okay?"

"All good! The ketchup bottle just randomly exploded," he laughs nervously and awkwardly. "Anyways!! The project!!"

You stare at him dubiously but nod anyway. "Okay, if you say so…")

Fourth, he has an extremely charming smile, especially when his fangs are in full display. To some, it may look fierce and menacing; to you, it looks cute, especially when his eyes are always brimming with life and his laugh is full of vitality.

More often than not you catch yourself staring at him because he's just so intriguing.

You try to ignore your racing heart when your stolen glances become shared ones, and he flashes you a grin softer than the smiles you've seen.

-----

“Uh, hi.” You say shyly as you enter through Baji’s window. It’s not frequently you seek out Baji at his own home, especially through the window he keeps open almost exclusively for stray cats to seek shelter.

“What the fuck?” Baji drops the stray cat he's cuddling as you give a slight wave, causing the cat to meow loudly at the sudden change in demeanor.

“Sorry to drop by unannounced. I, uh, just wanted some company.”

You feel vanishingly small as you awkwardly laugh and piece together some words that make sense. Home is supposed to be full of warmth, but your home is more of a house with people than a home with love. It’s a truth you’ve long accepted, but some days, it feels a little extra cold.

Therefore, you run, and somehow you end up here, in the comforts of Baji’s room.

Maybe you are currently a stray cat, feeling a little more lost than found. Maybe you find that he’s the sort of comfort that warms you a little when your heart feels heavy. Maybe you are just a little bit in like with him, and he is the first person you want to see whenever you’re feeling down.

The room is silent aside from the soft paps of cats moving around and the periodic meow. Then, he pats the spot next to him, and you make your way there. As soon as you sit down, he hands you a cat.

“Here, hold her. She’s nice,” he comments as he places the calico cat he dropped earlier in your lap, petting her as she adjusts to her new position on you.

She narrows her eyes and softly purrs in your lap as Baji pets her, and this makes you feel more in the moment than in your head like you’ve been. Your initial baffle turns into a smile as she purrs louder when you pet her, and just like that, you feel a little more found than lost.

You lean on his shoulder as you continue petting the calico cat in your lap. You keep your eyes on her as she climbs onto his lap and nuzzles him in an attempt to hide your burning cheeks and your drumming heart from your proximity.

“Thanks for giving me a home when I don’t want to be in my own,” you tell him softly, airly, almost as if you’re letting him in on a secret.

He stops playing with the cats for a moment and pauses. Feeling his intense stare, you peek through your lashes up at him. His broad grin and sharp canines are in full display, and his smile looks a little more boyish than wild. He tousles your hair as he laughs aloud boisterously before he props his head on top of yours.

“You’ll always have a home here.”

-----

It all started when a group of thugs looked at you inappropriately and made some comments that made you uncomfortable. You grip the ends of his sleeve just a little harder and press yourself behind him, trying to make yourself impossibly small. Baji, seeing your small form and downcast eyes, removes your hand from his sleeve and places it in his hand. Knowing Baji and him knowing you and your every mood, he does not stand for it. He simply flashes you a reassuring grin before he squeezes your hand and runs straight at them.

He throws the first punch, and you could just stand there in shock as he pummels through them and beats them up. He has cuts and bruises everywhere, and you’re certain he’s taken on a few nasty hits on his ribs. Though you’re equally confident that these thugs are absolutely 100% in worse shape than he is.

“Oh my god,” you sob frantically as Baji wobbles back to you, ferocious smile on his face softens as he sees you. He pats your head when he notes your teary eyes. You’re not even sure when you start crying, but the tears just don’t seem to stop. “Are you okay? Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Are you -”

He clutches your tear-stained face in his hands, “Look at me.”

Your eyes meet his, but you can barely see him over your tears as you continue your incoherent rambling.

“Hey,” he tries once more, voice more frantic as he struggles to find words. He finally just squishes your cheeks and yells, “Do you think I care about anything else but you right now?”

Your eyes widen, and the tears forming fall freely onto his hands. Oh, oh, oh, you think to yourself as your beating heart rapidly thumps at an exponential speed, maybe he’s also falling. When you meet his steady gray eyes, the shocking realization that maybe you’re not the only one dumb and possibly in love stops your tears.

He sighs in relief when your tears gradually stop, and as if all the tiredness accumulated in his body hit him all at once, he falls down onto the ground.

You try to catch him as best as you can, and with the combined effort of mostly himself and partially you, he breaks his fall. He lays sprawled out on the ground. After you check for wounds and find none too serious, you sit with your knees tucked under you by where he lays and moves his head onto your lap.

All around you are the battered bodies of the thugs you’ve encountered, but all you can see at the moment is him and his gray eyes that disappear into crescent moons as he flashes you a grin. He’s too tired to move, but he raises a fist up into the air in victory anyway.

“I got you.”

-----

"Wanna go on a ride?" he texts you.

It’s almost midnight when he texts you, and it’s probably way past when you should stay up. But your heart flutters at the thought of adventure, at the thought of him, so you quickly respond, “Okay, but be quiet! Don't wake my parents up again, stinky!!!”

You can already imagine his sheepish smile when he sends you a "that was once!!! my bad" back.

After sending him a quick ":p", you silently put on some clothes more fitting to go out than your pajamas. The sound of his motorcycle announces his greater-than-life presence long before his text does. Grabbing two scrunchies, you sneak out your window.

He only greets you with a goofy smile and a wave, hair free-flowing in the wind. Under the moonlight, his gray eyes twinkle with vigor and youth. It knocks the air out of your lungs as you glance at him because he's beautiful, ethereal, and alive. He smiles smugly when he catches your stare, but he holds his hand out for you to take.

"Hi," you whisper under the twinkling stars as you put your hand in his.

"Hey," he whispers back as he curls his fingers around your hand before adjusting to interlace your fingers together.

The quietness and intimacy of this moment drown out the world - the sound of cars driving by, of cicadas flying, of the world standing still. The only thing keeping you from floating is his hand and the sound of your heartbeat.

"I got you a hair tie." You offer softly with an equally soft smile, eyes pointing to the scrunchies on your wrist.

"I got you a hoodie," he responds as he nods to his motorcycle. "Because I knew your dumb ass would, once again, forget to dress for the winds."

"I'm dressed decently enough. You, though… please tie your hair… It hurts like hell when it whips in my face," you laugh lightly.

He rolls his eyes. "That's also what you said last time before you ended up stealing my hoodie, and I ended up being cold!" he complains, but there's a certain fondness in his voice.

You only stick your tongue out childishly at him. You would rather bite your tongue than admit that you are always slightly underdressed for the occasion so he would keep giving you his hoodies.

He tugs your interlaced hand and pulls you closer, and as you stand so close to him, you think close isn't quite close enough. The two of you linger in that position for longer than what should be appropriate for friends, but you think you have been tiptoeing around that line for a while now. Your heart races, and you're sure your erratic heart is beating fast enough to generate heat to keep you warm against the cold winds.

He pulls away first, moving to grab his hoodie before he roughly puts it on you. He laughs when you complain about your ruffled hair, but as his hoodie and scent engulf you, you could only shyly smile. He takes a scrunchie despite complaining about how poofy it is. As he settles in his bike and you settle in behind him, arms tight around his waist, you think this is probably what holding the universe in your arms feels like.

He rives his bike loudly despite your warning, but you find that you could care less right now as he takes off. You are young and dumb, but the wind is running through your hair as the two of you are chasing the moon, and it makes you feel so alive. Neon lights and starlit skies blur together as he speeds through familiar roads, and the brisk winds drown out your loud laughter. It feels like you're feeling everything at once, but your head is so clear.

You think you can understand why he loves riding so much because the only thing that you can hear is your loud heartbeat, and the only thing that matters is you're living.

He finally stops at a local 24-hour diner. The moonlight shines through the window by your table. You are still feeling the wild wind in your hair, cold air on your face, and the warmth of Baji’s back on your arms. It's way past midnight now, and the yellow lights of the diner feel a little more homey than dingy. He’s munching on some fries, occasionally waving one in your face whenever he’s trying to make a point about something. As you watch the various expressions on his face, a smile makes its way to your face.

“Hey Keisuke,” you grab a fry and jab it at him in the middle of his sentence. He stops his mid-word as he stares at you, head tilting slightly and mouth still gaping. There is a particular word that you keep thinking of whenever you think of Baji, a feeling that lingers and fills your heart up. You know what it is. You think you know at least, and in moments like these when you’re just watching his goofy self munching on fries while boisterously laughing at something dumb, all you can think of is those four letters.

“You’re my best friend,” you whisper before you eat your fry. Best friend, you think, encompasses a lot of things and feelings as you stare at his childlike grin, heart fluttering and mind blanking because all you see is him. You hope he knows, hope he gets that best friend is a loose term because he is so much more.

When he meets your eyes and his gray eyes crinkle in mirth and laughter rolls off his lips, you think he does.

“I know,” he smugly nods before he drops another fry into his mouth. “I guess you’re pretty cool too.”

You stick your tongue out at him and feel a warmth in your heart that matches the pinks of his cheeks. Maybe it’s adrenaline still in your blood, maybe it’s the moment, but it makes you devious, brave even, as you lean over and chomp down on the fry he's holding.

He stares at you with his mouth wide open, looking absolutely flabbergasted and offended. “Hello? That was my last fry!”

“Sorry,” you giggle, not feeling all that sorry at all. You know he’s not truly that offended because he has that stupid grin on his face, because he’s always soft with you. A part of you does feel a little sorry when you see the small pout that arises on his face. “I’ll treat you to yakisoba later?”

He turns away from you, face still slightly sulky as he huffs silently.

“No? You don’t want yakisoba?” you ask. You still find it amusing that Baji Keisuke, the first division captain of the Toman Gang who would punch someone on the streets for no reason other than just because he feels like it, is pouting because you stole his last fry. If anyone from any rival gangs sees Baji Keisuke now, they probably wouldn’t believe this is the same person.

“Fine,” he huffs softly, “But don’t think one yakisoba is enough.”

“Then,” you begin, your heart pounding loudly in your chest as you work up the courage, “What about this?”

He turns to you in confusion, and before your courage runs out on you, you crash your lips onto his before you pull away.

“Repayment,” you mutter meekly, eyes avoiding his because you’re sure he can feel the heat radiating off your cheeks from where he’s sitting.

“Hey,” he tugs on your hand under the table. When you finally look at him, he continues, “Just one isn’t enough.”

He kisses you again.

-----

Home is supposed to be the place you come from, but you think it's more like a place you find, pieced together from scattered bits of feelings, emotions, people along the way. Somewhere along the lines, home becomes less of a place and more of a person. Your home becomes the boy with the sharp canines and long hair that gets tangled by the stray cats he keeps, the "I love you" declared loudly with kisses and the longing looks in between, the comfortable warmth of his body next to yours as you chase sunsets and live in your own infinity. Your home is Baji Keisuke and the constant image of him in your mind and the infinite pieces of him in your heart.

Infinity, though, is awfully short, you think, as you see him lay surrounded by bouquets, eyes closed in eternal slumber. He's always looked good in white, but when his tan complexion is nearly as pale as the white roses surrounding him, you think white is an awful color on him. His eyes always shine with possibilities and promises, and while you've always joked that his sleeping face is cute because he always looks so innocent, adorable even, all you want now is to see him awake.

His heroism and love for his friends are always something that you love about him, but in turn, it feels so incredibly cruel to you now. For as short as he has been in your life, he becomes pieces embedded so deeply in it that it makes you whole. You cannot imagine a world where there is no Baij, where he isn’t there to punch a hooligan on the streets or feed stray cats at night or hold you when your world is crashing. You cannot imagine a life where he isn’t here to shine a bright light in your life without his laughter and goofy personality. Suddenly the world blurs around you, and you can't breathe as droplets of water hit your clenched hands on your lap.

You hold his hands. Cold, cold, cold, when they used to be warm enough to light a fire in you. There are so many things you want to tell him, say to him, but the speech you prepare in your head drowns in silence as your voice gives out on you. All the words in your head just come out as broken sobs. You feel the sympathetic and equally broken glance of his mom as she embraces you, but all you can think about is that he won’t open his eyes.

Baji Keisuke has always been bigger than life, you think, because he becomes a part of everything in your life. There are traces of him everywhere - him with his cats on your lock-screen, the random memes he sends you at night, the little notes he leaves you written in his ugly penmanship with love. When you think of these things, you feel like your heart is breaking all over again.

People tell you to be strong, and while you want to retort because how can you when he’s gone?, you find that you cannot say a word without crying. You’re tired of crying too because your eyes are already so, so raw, but it seems like all you can do is cry. When you think you've finally run out of tears and your tears finally stop, a new batch takes over even at the slightest things that remind you of him. You feel so pathetic because you can't do anything without water leaking from your eyes, and you hate yourself for being so weak.

You tune out the somber tone of his friends and the broken tone of his mom because you don't want to accept a reality where he isn't here. But luck is never on your side because he never opens his eyes again, and you never get to tell him how much you love him. All you get are flashbacks and memories of him and emptiness in your heart and soul. You tell yourself you have to be strong and smile and live for the both of you, but you can't. Not when he isn't here, not when he isn't with you anymore. Every time you think about that fact, your heart breaks again.

"Hey, stupid," your broken sobs ring loudly in the deafening silence, "I love you."

The words you’ve wanted to tell him for so long are finally in the open, but there is no answer.

#baji keisuke x reader #keisuke baji x reader #baji x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokrev x reader #baji fluff #baji angst #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers angst #i... i just really miss baji :(#come home you stinky head </3 #i'm sorry if he's ooc :(( in my head he's just really dorky and soft w his s/o HAHA #rissa told me to make it angst so i made it angst 👍#sometimes i write things

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mxtantrights · 4 years ago

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The magic-spy and the bird

the best friends brother trope is in my top 5 tropes. but I've also got a thing for angst. So here we areeeee. enjoy! <3

dick Grayson x f!reader

Jason Todd had asked you specifically to ask his brother out. And he did use the word brother, which you made a point to bring up. He shot it down but still decided to push his message towards you. You should ask Dick out. It wasn’t that simple.

“Jay I don’t think you’ve thought this through.” you said.

He chuckled, “Of course I did. I wouldn’t say it out loud if it wasn’t a well-cooked plan.”

You made a face at him.

“Okay look, all I'm saying is you’ve got nothing to lose. If anything you're way out of his league.” he said and then gulped down the rest of his beer.

You didn’t like beer and so you worked on a Pina colada. You had done the whole beer thing for years now. As a trained spy it was your go-to for missions at bars. Safe to say you were sick of ales, craft beers and everything in between.

“Ah yes, the magic using spy.” you nodded your head.

Jason nodded along with you.

“Exactly. Bird brains would eat that up.” he said.

“And when would I tell him that I knew about his secret identity? Before I tell him about mine or after?” you asked.

Jason sighed and raised his hand for another beer. You rolled your eyes at this. Once he had a thought it was very hard for him to let it go. Especially when it included a thought about people he cared for- no matter how much he claimed the opposite.

“All Im saying is, you never know until you try.”

“What are you a fortune cookie?”

“Fuck off. I’m being serious and I do give great advice you can ask Duke.”

2 DAYS LATER

You look at Caliban with bated breath. He had just gotten info on a magic-based rebellion. Work was tight when you rolled with the good guys for too long of a time. You blame that on two men on your life, Jason and Constantine.

“I’ll put in a good word for you.” he says.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it. And any-”

Before you can finish telling Caliban that he can call in a favor from you at anytime your surroundings change. In a flash you go from one of the underworld crime bars to a room you’ve never been in before.

You look around and sure enough you see the culprit. Constantine.

“There she is!” he smiles.

Not only did he summon you, he did so in front of an audience. Circled around him is Gotham’s crime fighting family. All of them except Jason, Cass and Duke. All of which know about your secret identity and would’ve stopped Constantine from summoning you. The rest of the family are all looking at you liked you’ve grown a second head.

You look down at what you’re wearing. The long sleeve off the shoulder skin tight black dress was the perfect choice for the club you were supposed to be in. Maybe not so much for a meeting with the Bats and his birds.

You look right ahead at Constantine, “I don’t like being summoned.”

“Ah, but you’re the best person I know for this job. I had to get you over here.” he says.

You take a quick look at all the other people in the room. Then at the screen behind them. Your information is plastered on it. Well, the information that you’ve decided to let the government think was yours. Your codename was at the top of the screen.

“Constantine says that you’re the best way into the underworld.” Batman says.

You’re confused to say the least. Constantine was Constantine, why would he call you in order to get them into the underworld when he can do it himself? It defeats the purpose of having to call him.

“I’m sorry,” you direct to Batman and then look at your friend, “I need you to state specifically what I’m needed for.”

Constantine moved from the family over to you. As he did you watched as Nightwing followed him with his own eyes. Now Dick knows you’re not just Jason’s friend from around Gotham. Great.

“Bats got intel that something it going down with this magic group, the-” he starts. “hex mutiny.” you finish.

“You already know about them?” Nightwing says.

“I was just getting someone to put in a good word for me with them before you summoned me here. You’ve got great timing you know that?” you say to Constantine.

He smiles, “Well then it seems like you can be of great service, spygames.”

“And what exactly would I be doing, if I can even get a spot with them?” you throw out the question to the family.

Red Robin crosses his arms, “We need someone on the inside to tell us what they are planning for Gotham.”

“I doubt they’d let a newbie in on their plans.”

“Good thing you won’t be a newbie.” Batman says.

Constantine conjures an amulet in his hand. You want to hit him over the head. He could really be a pain in the ass. You grab it from him.

“With this, you’ll be in the perfect position to get in and get out. Easy.” he says.

You shake your head, “Every time you say that I get a new scar.”

“I promise sweetheart. No scars this time.”

“Yeah yeah, you owe me for this.”

EXACTLY ONE WEEK LATER

You knew you would end up wounded. Typically with Constantine it was nothing deadly, or nothing your own magic couldn’t fix. But you knew that your luck had to run out some day. And it wasn't his fault.

After finding out what the group was really up to you couldn’t just let them operate. They weren’t really rebels. No they used that name to paint a narrative. They were fascists.

You held the wound to your waist to stop the bleeding. This would have to be the farthest you could go. There was no way you could run out of this. Not with the blood seeping through the cracks of your fingers.

At least you brunt the members down to the ash. It took a lot out of you. And that’s why you weren’t prepared for a hit that tore right through you.

“Why aren’t you moving?” Jason, or Redhood, said through the comms.

You leaned against the hallway wall.

At least you’d die someplace pretty. When you first came in you didn't notice how clean and meticulous everything was. There were painting of famous magicians on the walls. Along with some stolen art, a Van Gogh or two.

You ripped the amulet off your neck and felt the illusion fade. The necklace fell to the floor and you let out a pained breath.

“I think,” you coughed and on the clean wall was not splatters of blood, “this is it.”

You could hear Jason shouting on the other end. He was calling out your name, calling out for Constantine to come and help you. Duke was calling for you too. And you could’ve sworn you heard Cass say your name once.

With your only free hand you tried to open a portal out of the base. You knew it would be useless as you had a mortal wound and portal magic works best under no stress and panic, or blood loss. The usual light from your hands glowed faintly until it didn’t.

“Constantine can’t summon you?” Dick asked.

At that you let your body drag down the wall until you reached the floor. When you did sit down more blood came out. So you decided to lay down horizontally.

“Hey hey- I told you I wasn’t gonna let anything happen to you.” you hear Constantine through the comms.

You want to laugh, but it ends out more of a chocked gargle.

“I screwed up the mission. I deserve it.” you said.

“You did good. Better than any of us.” Batman said.

“Constantine you need to call in whatever favors you have to get her out of there. Now!” Jason shouted.

“Dont,” you started.

“No. We’re getting you out of there-”

“Jason, I’m not a saint. I never would’ve imagined going out like this.” you said.

Once you were born you were thrusted in this world. All you knew was to use magic as a weapon. To get ahead, to get power, to get the glory. And that lasted you until you turned 19.

Then Constantine crossed paths with you. He was the one to show you that magic has other uses. Such as helping and healing. You learned the best stuff from him. And you took what you learned and began to help in ways you could.

You didn’t go on the straight and narrow. Never did you consider yourself a morally correct person. Sometimes the lines were blurred, or they need to be blurred. And so you took down seedy organizations, went on recon missions all over the world.

It wasn’t justice. But it was close enough that you could sleep at night or the odd hours of the morning for more than four hours.

“Sweetheart I don’t break my promises.” Constantine said finally.

You were just beginning to feel your eyes grow heavy. The pain was starting to be comfortably numb. Then above you appeared someone you weren’t expecting in the slightest.

“Caliban?” you asked.

“You owe me double.”

4 DAYS LATER

When you woke up you felt battered and weak You weren’t used to these feelings and you weren’t used to being so close to death. Everyday was a new experience when you’re the Priestess of Espionage.

You cracked open one eye to find a couple of deviants at your side. Jason, Duke and Cass. The youngest took the chair next to you while Duke and Jason seemed to take the floor. Since they weren’t in their gear you guessed that you were out for longer than a couple of hours.

“Not my version of hell but I’ll allow it.” you say in a raspy voice.

It wakes everyone up.

Jason and Duke bolt to your bedside.

“Why’d you almost die on me?” and “Are you feeling okay?” come from them both, respectively. It makes you want to laugh but when you feel the ache in your waist you stop yourself.

“I’m alive, so there’s that. Positives.” you answer.

Jason shoots his younger siblings a look and they scurry out the room. You try to sit up to ask what it was for but he puts his hands up for you to stop any movement. So you lay back down.

“He would kill me if you tore your stitches.”

You shut your eyes, “Jason I don’t think Constantine would kill you per say.”

You hear the door opening so you decide to open your eyes. And sure enough you see Jason leaving the room and someone coming in. Dick Grayson, out of his suit as well.

As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t read his face. Besides the clear betrayal that was there. He definitely knew that you knew he’s Nightwing.

“Hi.” you say.

His face softens, “Hi.”

“I just want to say that I would’ve told you about who I am. Sooner that you think actually but this mission kinda derailed all of that.” you say.

With his arm crossed over his chest he nods, “How long did you know I was Nightwing?”

You wince.

“For about two years now. Once Jason told me he was Red it was hard to not notice the similarities of the Wayne family and the Bat one.”

He laughs at that and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. It must be going good if he wants to laugh.

“And when did he tell you that I like you?” he asks.

“He didn’t explicitly say that.”

There’s a beat of silence. You’re looking at him and he’s looking at you. But he’s the one who seems to be holding his breath this time. You try to hide the smirk you feel forming on your lips.

“What?” he asks.

“Jason had told me that I should ask you out. He didn’t say anything about you liking me.” you answer him.

The red tint that covered Dick Grayson was absolutely adorable.

He nods his head to himself. Twice.

“I- I’m gonna get Jason for you.” he moved to the door. And you don’t really know what to say. All your words get jumbled in your brain and you can’t put them together in a way that is smooth enough so you deicide to just try your best.

“If you were to ask me out, I would say yes.” you say.

He looks directly at you. Then his signature smirk appears.

“I’ll bring back some food for later.” he says.

“it’s a date.” you answer.

#dc x reader #Dick Grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #Dick Grayson imagine #nightwing imagine #dc imagine #dc #nightwing #Dick Grayson #Jason Todd x reader #Jason todd imagine

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angstama · 4 years ago

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god knows you tried | manjiro (mikey) sano

pairing: bonten!mikey x reader

genre: angst

warnings: heartbreak, attempt suicide(?), original characters/manga plot (pls do not read if you haven’t read the manga D: ), mentions of religion, implied sex (no smut ok!)

summary: god knows you tried your best. if only mikey knew how hard you’re trying too then perhaps this love wouldn’t hurt as much as you thought.

words: 1823 words

a/n: i think this sucks but... i hope you enjoy it! <3

god knows you tried.

you watched the ex-toman boys eagerly catching up with takemichi quietly, hands resting against your chin as you took in the rare sight in front of you with a sad smile etched on your lips. this was the happy ending that mikey had sacrificed for everyone but himself.

“a penny for your thoughts?” mitsuya asks, plopping down next you on to the stone steps. that’s right, it’s june 19th 2018, toman’s formation day anniversary and everyone had gathered around to re-open the time capsule from twelve years ago. “hm? nothing much. just missing a particular someone.” you hummed, dragging your fingers across the ground to draw a heart. mitsuya nods understandingly, knowing not to pry any deeper anymore and for that, you’re thankful.

crouching down, you hesitantly picked up the the blue coloured envelope you left behind twelve years ago. unsure if you’d wanna read the contents of the letter your naive self written back then. with a deep breath, you slipped open the cover. revealing a photo of candid photo of you and mikey leaning on each other asleep with your mouths wide open taken by emma.

dearest y/n,

i wonder what you’re doing right now?

are you perhaps finally studying in film?

has that idiot manjiro finally proposed to you?

or are you the one who proposed to him?

“y/n, you’ll be with me for a long time right?” mikey asked, staring at the very sky that you both loved oh so very much with your hands intertwined. having grown up with each other since young had pretty much given you both the illusion that the two of you will always be a part of each other’s world. and you hoped with every inch of your heart that mikey wants it to be that way forever. “of course. you’re my heaven and home mikey. i wouldn’t go anywhere else without you by my side.” you squeezed his hand in assurance, knowing that at this very moment, mikey was at his most truthful and vulnerable self with you.

whatever it is, i hope that you’re living the happy life with him that you’ve been dreaming of.

signing off,

toman’s honorary member, y/n l/n.

everyone was silent. even hakkai who had been making fun of everyone’s letter kept quiet. the boys knew how much you loved and you still love mikey. each opting to give you the concerned and sympathetic look. you could feel you heart breaking even more for you knew you weren’t doing anything that you had hoped for back then.

you felt mitsuya’s comforting hand softly grabbing onto yours. “well that’s depressing,” you chuckled softly, wanting to get rid of the awkward tension in the air as soon as possible. “let’s grab some ramen, i’m starving.” and with that, you let your feet drag you away from the heavy atmosphere with your head hung low.

perhaps the hurt wouldn't be as painful if you weren’t the only one who knew what kind of path mikey had chosen to go down. you see, when mikey turned his back against all his closest friend, you had the privilege of staying as his only constant thanks to your stubborn nature but even with that, you weren’t enough to keep him away from his dark impulses. mikey chose the path to destruction and the only thing that you could do was watch from the sidelines and be there when he shows up at wee hours of the night to borrow your body. but you didn't mind. it was during these most intimate moments with mikey that you finally get to feel a piece of him again when he spews the words of “i love you” so effortlessly.

god knows that you tried.

“mikey those aren’t good for you.” you frowned, snatching the capsule away from his hand seconds before he could flush it down his system. “what the fuck y/n?” the angered male snaps. you felt yourself falling and back colliding against the hard ground. opening your eyes, you see mikey pining you down with nothing but void darkness in his eyes. “i’ll fucking kill you if you do it again.” mikey taunts, he was serious and you know it.

“then kill me mikey.” the words slipped out of your tongue instantly. you were tired. tired of trying. you don't know what else can you possibly do to help mikey anymore. mikey says nothing but got off you. he dusted himself and without sparing you single glance, he showed you his back again, walking out of the door where sanzu was already holding open for him. “get her home.” you heard him say.

it’s been a week since you guys opened the time capsule. nothing much had happened since then except you’ve been spending more time with hina considering how she’s often over to mitsuya’s studio for gown fitting. you admired and envy her love story with takemichi. but who were you to complain? you were lucky enough that mikey still wanted you around. so it shouldn’t hurt so much when you sae her adorning the beautiful wedding gown that mitsuya had spent months on tailoring.

you let out a tired yawn, stretching your arms above your head as you finished touching up the last few bits of editing on your laptop. you looked over at the calendar on your table, a pink heart circled over today’s date and smiled. “mitsuya, i’m gonna knock off first okay?” you announced, tidying up your table and reaching out for the bag of the familiar favourite deserts of a certain male.

mitsuya nods, “thank you for your hard work y/n”. he flashes you a smile, eye slowly trailing to the white plastic bag dangling from your side as you waved goodbye, back facing him and walking away. “you’re going to see him aren't you?” you stopped in your tracks. “i know he never left you. plus you got a bag filled with dorayakis and taiyakis. that’s pretty obvious.” mitsuya chuckles. you always knew mitsuya to be perceptive but it never once occured to you that your best friend who is also your boss would ever catch on to the secret you’ve been hiding for twelve years.

“how did yo-”

“be careful y/n.” mitsuya waves you off, going back to whatever he was doing. a fond smile creeps onto your lips as you watched mitsuya working hard. “thank you mitsuya. for everything. really,” you whispered, but loud enough for the dual dyed coloured hair boy to look up again when you walked away.

you made your way towards the secluded vip section of the club through swarms of body swaying around you until you saw the familiar tall pink haired male standing outside the golden door.

“hey sanzu,” you greeted, barely audible over the loud booming music. you were about to push the door open when sanzu towers over you immediately, denying you of your entrance. you looked at sanzu in confusion, “it’s me, y/n. i’m here to see mikey.” you said loudly, voice straining to over power the background noise. “ i know. but mikey will not be seeing anyone right now.” he retorts back.

surely mikey knew that you were visiting tonight right? after all it’s your anniversary date. you tilted your head at sanzu. not fully understanding what he’s saying. to say that you’re feeling absolutely livid would be an understatement right now. you’re too tired, angry and broken hearted to process anything anymore so you exploded. you only wanted to see your boyfriend. was that a very difficult request?

“sanzu,” you said lowly, eyes staring blankly into his and as if on cue, you brought your knees to his precious manhood before making another high kick at him, bringing him down. it was a technique that mikey had taught you when you were younger and attending martial arts lesson together with baji. god you missed baji so much.

“y/n because you’re short, you can do this instead.” mikey suggested smugly, kneeing poor baji’s little friend before swinging his legs much more harder than he intended to at baji’s profile when he bent forward. the main point was to get your opponent to lean forward so that your legs could reach high enough to create an impact on their skull. you eyes lit up in excitement, “wow! that’s so cool! let me try it!” you jumped impatiently. turning towards mikey to execute the exact same move. “wait n-! AHH,” mikey’s eyes widened, and before he knew it, you had completely knocked him over.

that day, as mikey and baji lied down with pain still intact barely moving an inch, shinchiro only gave you a thumbs up and praised you for taking down the invincible mikey. you were the only one who could do that.

“sanzu, i’ll see my boyfriend as and when i’d like to.” you said curtly, eyeing sending daggers at him lying on the ground before stepping over him to swing the door open, revealing your petite self to the other bonten’s executives and hostess who were staring at you in surprise.

you don’t see anyone else but your lover who’s currently sitting in the center with two pretty hostess sitting by his side. you don’t hesitate and begun walking towards him. “get your hands off my man.” you said calmly. there was tension in the air and from the corner of your eyes, you could see the executives slowly getting up to leave as if on cue.

“aren’t you as stubborn as always,” he raises a brow as you settled down next to him, pouring the bag of dessert on the glass table in front of you. you smile softly, grabbing a packet of taiyaki and handing it to him before grabbing one for yourself too. “happy 14th anniversary mikey.” you mumbled softly before grabbing a bite. 14 years, that was how long you two had been together for. “mhm. happy 14th anniversary y/n.” mikey hums, allowing you lean in close to him and resting your head on his chest.

you take in the scent of mikey for you knew that this is going to be the last time you’re going to be able to hold mikey close to you. you didn't want this moment to end but you were too tired to continue on and see what's going to happen the next when you go back to just another normal day. you held tightly to the gun you hid in your bag, shutting your eyes tightly.

“hey mikey,” you called out. you never thought you’d see it again but you saw a flash of endearment in his eyes when you called him. “i love you so much, promise you’ll take care of yourself alright?” you smiled warmly before pulling the gun out of your bag and putting it against your head.

god knows you tried.

god knows you did your best and now you’re going home.

bang!

#tokyorev x reader #tokyo revengers #mikey x you #mikey sano #mitsuya takashi #toman #chifuyu matsuno #mikey x y/n #fanfic

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nephilim-problems · 4 years ago

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Hi guys! This is a new fic I came up with where the reader is Barry Allen's ex-wife and she moves to Virgina and becomes a part of the BAU. It's basically a cross over between The Arrowverse and Criminal minds. Let me know if you want more 🥰

I had been working at the BAU for 3 years and I felt like I was in a family but what type of person keeps secrets for their family? Everyone is the answer but I felt guilty for hiding a whole half of my life, and my slight crush on my boss. I mean it was only a slight crush I found him very attractive but he of course was my boss and he would never go over that professional barrier. I tapped my pen against my desk, feeling like I had read the same line on the same report 7 or 8 times. This job was great except for the paperwork. The paperwork was always the most boring part.

“Guys we have a case,” J.J said walking into the bullpen.

I looked up and saw Hotch wasn’t in his office and Rossi wasn’t either. They were probably already at the round table. Morgan came around my side as I push my chair in.

“He’s probably already at the table sweetheart,” Morgan said putting his hand on the small of my back. “We should probably head there too.”

“Yeah we should,” I sighed letting him lead me away.

“There goes my weekend,” Prentiss said taking a seat next to Rossi.

“You had plans this weekend?” Morgan asked sincerely as we sat down. “I stopped making plans years ago.”

“I still like to try,” She smiled.

“We wanted to take Henry to the zoo this weekend but I guess Will will have to go alone,” J.J said, sending a text I guessed to her boyfriend.

“I actually didn’t have plans so,” Reid replied, making me chuckle.

“I wanted to go check out that new restaurant down the street, but I guess there’s always when we get back,” I laughed as Garcia set a case file in front of me.

“Happy friday my darling profilers you are going to central city, Missouri, 3 women found dead all dumped by the side of the road going into the city. All 3 showed signs of torture and rape and then there is this, which is why the central city police is calling us in,” Garcia spoke but all eyes wen wide after we saw the pictures.

“He removed their tongue,” J.J said looking disgusted. “That’s new.”

“Actually this is the second time we have seen this. The last time was when Holis Walker killed 4 people in order to promote his book,” Reid replied.

"So rage maybe?" I said. "Maybe these women mean something to him."

"He shows remorse with the way he dumps the body," Morgan replied. "But he's so angry when he kills them."

"Either Way we have 2 days to find this girl alive. Wheels up in 30," Hotch said, collecting his case files and bolting out of the room.

I started to collect mine when Penelope, Emily, and J.J sat around me. They had left all their stuff on the table where they were sitting and they were all staring at me.

"So when are you going to tell Hotch you have a crush on him?" Emily asked, staring into me.

"I-I don't have a crush on Hotch," I chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "He's my boss, that would be completely wrong."

"You think you can hide that from some profilers?" J.J asked, smiling at me.

"I am not hiding anything," I laughed when suddenly I saw Morgan coming up behind Penelope.

"Baby girl, why are you picking on her," Morgan asked, setting his hands on her shoulders.

"Oh we're just teasing little miss (Y/N/N) about her crush on hotch," Emily said causing everyone to laugh.

"And I just said I didn't have a crush on Hotch," I said standing up.

"Sweetheart we all know, its okay," Morgan laughed, making me uncomfortably shuffle towards the door.

"I definitely do not have a thing for Hotch," I replied walking towards the door. "I have to get my go bag before anyone else starts in om my supposed crush on hotch."

I heard laughter from behind me but ignored it and ran to grab my bag. I quickly scooped the bag up and ran to meet the team.

Soon we were sitting on the jet discussing the case when the pilot announced we would be landing in 10 minutes. That was Hotch's que to start handing everyone a job.

"Rossi, you and agent Prentiss head to the abduction site, Reid, you and Agent Allen head to the dump site, J.J, Morgan, and I will head to the police department," Hotch finished then Morgan cut in.

"Reid and I were actually hoping to head to the police department," he said and Reid looked suspiciously at him then turned back.

"I wanted to start the geological profile," Reid smirked unconvincingly.

"Okay I will go with Rossi, Prentiss, you head to the crime scene," Hotch replied, sighing and looking over the file.

"Actually, sir, I would like to go to the abduction site if that's okay with you," Emily smiled.

"I'll go to the dump site then. We will meet back at the station when we're done,"Hotch replied.

The rest of the team smiled at each other before looking at me. I rolled my eyes at them and crossed my legs. They were absolutely right though, I did have a massive crush on Hotch. It started as just thinking he was hot and wanting to feel him thrust into me then I found the comforting side of him. I had gotten kidnapped while on a case Morgan joked it was a "rite of passage". It wasn't terrible. He had cut me a bit but when the team had broken open the door to his house it startled him enough for me to wiggle out of my restraints and attack him. Eventually I had to stab him just as Hotch broke in. He doted over me for weeks making sure I was okay and that he was always there if I needed to talk. It was very cute and it made my feelings for him grow more intense; however I was going to deny it until I was blue in the face. Even if it was no use because I was lying to a group of profilers.

It was an uncomfortable ride to the dump site. I was trying to focus on the file in front of me but it was unbearably hot in the humid Missouri weather and for some horrible reason the a/c wasn't working. I was closer to using the file as a fan than actually looking it at. Hotch had taken his jacket off and loosened his tie which had me on edge. It looked as hot as I felt. I couldn't take my eyes off him but I didn't want him to see me.

Soon the car was stopping and I was hopping out thankful to be out of the car but somehow it was hotter outside.

"Hotch I can see the body was from here," I said standing on the other side of the car.

"So he wasn't trying to hide her," he replied.

I followed him down off the street and across the crime scene tape.

"He has to have stayed here awhile. Posing on the victim, her hair is brushed, and her fingernails are painted. But he could be seen from the road," I said, throwing my hands in the pockets of my pants.

"So he doesn't stand out," Hotch replied.

"Or he parked his car and hid himself from view."

"Then the car was plain enough not to raise alarm."

"We're in Central City Hotch. I lived here for a bit, the locals are helpful. If they saw a car parked here at night they'd probably stop to ask what's wrong."

Hotch actually looked a bit stumped for the first time since I had started working at the bau.

"Then he has to have a van or truck," Hotch said.

"That's big enough to conceal her and him but something you wouldn't stop on the side of the road to help," I said stepping around the scene. "What about city or park trucks?"

"They're large enough to block traffic from seeing him," Hotch paused. "Let's head to the station to meet with J.J, Reid, and Morgan. Hopefully Reid has something with the geographical profile."

With those words Hotch was off with a phone to his ear I assume to Garcia. I followed close behind and slid in the car with him and we took off to the station. It wasn't far. We talked about the heat mainly and Central City. When we pulled up to the station I got queezy. This meant I'd have to see Joe and Barry again. It was a life I was hoping would never clash with this one.

Hotch parked and we walked up the steps to the central city police station. It looked just as I remembered it, beautiful. J.J came fast approaching and stopped in front of Hotch.

"Hotch, Captain Singh may have brought us in but the officers aren't cooperating. Detective Joe West was the officer assigned to this case." J.J said, stopping us in our tracks.

"Is he cooperating?" Hotch replied.

"For the most part yeah," J.J said tapping her thighs which she only did when she was frustrated.

"They won't cooperate because of the flash," I piped up and they all looked at me confused.

"Who is the flash?" J.J asked.

"He's a vigilante from Central City. The U.S government has kept a handle on any information about him to keep from a vigilante crisis," Hotch replied.

"If central city has the flash, why are we being called in?" J.J asked.

"The flash is good at catching people but he isn't a detective. He can't find these women like we can," I replied.

"I don't care about the flash right now, the only thing we should be focused on is finding this girl in the next 40 hours," Hotch said walking by J.J and into the bullpen.

I followed and saw Joe talking to Reid and Morgan in a small glass room on the other side of the bullpen. I basically ran over and opened the door so excited to see Joe again. Then I saw Barry standing with them.

"(Y/N)," Joe called out.

"Joe," I smiled as he grabbed me into a large hug.

"It's so good to see you," he said, squeezing me tightly.

"It's so good to see you too," I smiled, parting from the hug and pulling Barry in. I hadn’t realized how much I missed his hugs.

"It's been awhile (Y/N/N)," Barry said and I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Yeah, I've missed you Bares," I said, wrapping my arms around his waist.

"I missed you too," Barry mumbled as I pulled away.

"You guys know each other?" Morgan asked.

"Yeah, I was in college and I lived with Joe, Barry, Wally, and Iris," I said feeling a bit happier.

"Barry has been helping us with the forensic side of things," Reid replied.

"How far did you get with the geographical profile?" I asked

"Not very far," Reid said, making his nervous smile.

"Don't tell Hotch that," I smirked and patted him on the shoulder.

"We're thinking male, white, late 20s early 30s, sexual sadist," Morgan said, throwing the file down.

"Hotch and I think he might work for the city or parks. He's got a truck that gives him enough privacy to pose the victim and brush her hair," I said. "And the only thing we could think of was city and park vehicles."

"I already called Garcia to check for white males in their late 20s early 30s that have access to city or park vehicles," Hotch said standing over me.

"That's almost anyone," Joe replied. "Anyone who works for the city, parks and recreation, police, or even just rich CEOs who donate."

"Can you get me a list of all those people?" Hotch asked.

"Yeah," Joe replied and started walking. "Barry, I'm going to need your help."

"Coming Joe," Barry replied. "(Y/N/N) you s-should come by for dinner. Iris would love to see you."

"I'll make time for it Barry," I smiled and squeezed his arm as he left.

"Sweetheart, why didn't you tell us you were from here?" Morgan asked.

"I'm not from here," I laughed trying to brush him off. "Iris, Barry, and I went to college together. We've kept in contact the best we can but things have happened."

"Oh yeah what things?" Morgan laughed as Emily and Rossi came in.

"The victim put up a huge struggle," Emily said and I silently cheered. "She threw anything within reach at him. We found bullet holes in the walls. We think she had a gun."

Suddenly Morgan pulled out his phone.

"Hey baby girl it's Morgan," he said and we all knew he was calling Garcia. "I'm going to put you on speaker."

"Hey Garcia, did Alyssa Smith have a gun registered to her?" Emily asked, putting her hands on the table.

"Yes she did own a gun. She also had a hunting license," Garcia replied.

"Did any of the other 3 victims?" Hotch asked, setting his hand on the lower of my back. It sent chills down my spine as I tried to focus.

"Yes, all 3 victims had gun licenses and hunting licenses," Garcia replied.

"Thanks baby girl," Morgan said.

"Anything for you my love," Garcia replied as Morgan hung up the phone.

"You know, cases where victims have and use guns scare the shit out of me," I said, taking a step back and feeling slightly sad when Hotch took his hand off of me.

"Thats our only pattern," Reid sighed.

"I don't know if you've noticed but central city isn't exactly a hunting gun owning town. Most people don't own a gun unless you work in law enforcement," I replied.

"Detective West said law enforcement was on our list of people who had access to the vehicles we are looking for," Hotch said. "Get Garcia on the phone. I'm going to see if I can check on that list."

"I'm going to talk to Barry and see if he has any contacts who saw anything," I said, starting to walk towards the door.

"J.J make sure this doesn't get leaked to the press," Hotch said following. "Agent Allen, I need to talk to you."

"Uh, yes sir," I said walking out and standing on the side.

#aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #david rossi #hotch x y/n #barry allen x reader #arrowverse #the flash #barry allen #au #crossover

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