#Smart Elevator Systems

[daintilyultimateslayer]

AI Field Service Management

The Top 5 Operational Challenges in Elevator Maintenance—and How to Overcome Them

  In a field where you can’t have failures, we who fix elevators face more need for fast, exact, and clear work. Yet, even with new tech, many still deal with old ways and split-up systems, causing work slow-downs and unhappy clients. With Etaprise‘s smart tech for managing field work, elevator firms can fix these problems and change their work into smooth, smart service setups.

1. Missed or Late Service Meetings

The Problem: Workers show up late for service meetings—or not at all meetings—due to wrong schedule times, road delays, or bad communication. These no-shows mess up building work, risk safety, and hurt client trust. The Fix with Etaprise AI Field Service Management: Etaprise’s smart-system sends workers based on place, skills, and who’s free right now. Smart planning makes sure: – We arrive on time – We take the best roads – We  first go to elevators with big issues

End result: Less waiting, better work as promised, and happier clients.

2. Lack of Visibility on Stock Levels

The Problem: Often, workers do not have the parts they need right there, which leads to more trips, longer waits, and unhappy customers. How Etaprise AI Inventory Fix Works: Etaprise uses livestock checks and smart guesswork to: – Guess what parts are needed – Fill up stock on its own – Keep just the right amount of stock in moving sites and big storage places

The Results: Fixes are done the first time more often, and needless trips are fewer—this saves both time and money.

3. Underperformance of Field Workers

The Problem: Without clear job plans or live info, workers may take too much time figuring out problems or calling bosses for help. How Etaprise AI Mobile Field Service Management  & AR Helps: Etaprise gives field workers apps that have: –  Electronic job sheets – Live checks on gear through Digital Twin tech – Expert help from far away via AR

The Result: Fixes are faster, fewer needs to ask for more help, and workers get more done – even with tricky elevator tech.

4.  No Bill of Materials (BOM), Outdated or Incomplete Guides The Problem:  When an elevator is configured and constructed—whether on-site or off-site—there is often a lack of a comprehensive and unique Bill of Materials (BOM), which can result in supply chain inefficiencies, cost overruns, and potential safety concerns. Books, broken data, and old ways make it tough to keep good records or to follow safety rules. The Fix with Etaprise: Each lift has its twin in a whole Digital Twin, giving: – Always-now news on repairs – Know-how details and follow-rules data – Easier rule reports – Manage costs – Ensure compliancy

Result: Full look and smart choices for upkeep and rules.

5. The smart elevator:

The new generation elevator is IoT-enabled. They are referred to as “smart elevators” and revolutionize the way buildings manage vertical transportation. These elevators are equipped with smart sensors that continuously collect data on usage patterns, energy consumption, and potential malfunctions.

The Fix with Etaprise: IoT data is transmitted to Etaprise’s  cloud platform, where it can be analyzed manually or through AI-driven tools to optimize performance and maintenance.

 The benefits:

Predictive Maintenance: IoT technology enables real-time monitoring, allowing building operators to detect minor issues before they escalate into major failures, reducing downtime and repair costs.

Energy Efficiency: Smart elevators optimize energy consumption by adjusting operations based on usage patterns, leading to lower electricity costs and a reduced environmental footprint.

Enhanced Safety: Continuous monitoring improves passenger safety by identifying potential risks early and ensuring compliance with evolving safety regulations.

Improved User Experience: IoT-driven insights help optimize traffic flow within buildings, reducing wait times and improving overall efficiency.

Regulatory Compliance: Automated reporting ensures adherence to strict government regulations regarding system failures and maintenance.

As the elevator industry moves toward data-driven ecosystems, IoT integration is becoming essential for efficiency, safety, and sustainability.

The Power of Smart AI Field Service Management of Etaprise

Etaprise does more than just give tools—it offers a full digital change plan made for industries with a lot of field work, like fixing elevators. By bringing together AI, IoT, AR, and Digital Twin tech, Etaprise helps elevator firms to: –  Set up scheduling and dispatch on auto – Make tech work better – Make the best use of inventory and asset control – Keep to rules and keep records right – Make clients happy with smart data tips

Conclusions

The elevator fix field is at a key change point. As gear gets harder and people want more, old ways of service just don’t work well. Etaprise AI Field Service Management changes your work issues into chances—cutting costs, keeping things up more, and giving a great client time. Are you set to boost your service work? Let Etaprise be your ally in smart, seeing-ahead, and good elevator upkeep.

Table of Contents

1. Missed or Late Service Meetings

2. Lack of Visibility on Stock Levels

3. Underperformance of Field Workers

5. The smart elevator:

The Power of Smart AI Field Service Management of Etaprise

Conclusions

See More Case Studies

The Need for Smarter Fleet Management

FSM Software: What It Is and Why Your Business Needs It

Why Property Managers Need to Prioritize Intelligent Elevator Maintenance

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case studies

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Articles

The Need for Smarter Fleet Management

Efficiency is crucial in logistics. However, inefficiencies mount in the absence of an intelligent fleet management system—fuel prices skyrocket, vehicle malfunctions cause operations to be

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Articles

FSM Software: What It Is and Why Your Business Needs It

The Problem: Field Service Chaos Imagine this: A client rings up needing urgent help, but your worker’s stuck on the other side of town, clueless

Learn more

Articles

Why Property Managers Need to Prioritize Intelligent Elevator Maintenance

Elevators: The Unappreciated Heroes of Every Building. Whether a residential or office tower, high-rise building, elevators are the key to smooth day-to-day operation. They carry

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[elevatorvideosystems485]

Why the Best Network Video Recorder is Crucial for Surveillance

In the modern era of smart security, the quality of your surveillance system can make all the difference. A Network Video Recorder (NVR) is the brain behind the camera system, managing video footage from IP cameras and ensuring it is stored securely. The best NVR systems provide high-resolution video, intelligent storage solutions, and remote access. For industries like vertical transportation, this technology is not just helpful—it’s essential. Whether it's a small business or a large facility, investing in a reliable NVR ensures you never miss a moment that matters.

When it comes to elevator surveillance, having the best network video recorder isn’t just a bonus—it’s a necessity. Elevators present a unique challenge for surveillance due to their confined space and constant movement. A top-tier NVR must be compatible with compact, high-definition cameras and deliver real-time footage without lag. Moreover, it needs to offer ample storage and seamless access for reviewing historical footage. This becomes vital in case of emergencies, disputes, or maintenance issues. The right NVR enhances both security and operational efficiency, making it a critical tool in comprehensive elevator monitoring systems.

How Smart Surveillance Protects Elevator Passengers

Smart surveillance is transforming how elevator security is managed. Instead of relying solely on basic CCTV, modern systems integrate smart features like motion detection, real-time alerts, and cloud-based storage. These capabilities ensure that building managers and security teams receive timely updates about any unusual activity. Particularly in elevators—where incidents can escalate quickly—this proactive monitoring can be life-saving. The NVR plays a key role by coordinating camera inputs and storing video securely for future use. With better analytics and instant access, elevator passengers enjoy safer and more secure rides in residential, commercial, and public facilities.

Beyond just storing footage, the best NVRs support high-efficiency video coding (HEVC) and other compression technologies. This allows them to retain high-quality footage without requiring excessive storage space. For elevator systems, where space and connectivity can be limited, this is essential. The system must also withstand environmental challenges like vibrations or electrical fluctuations. For this reason, ruggedized, elevator-specific NVR models are now becoming the norm. These advanced systems support redundancy and remote diagnostics, helping technicians and facility managers identify and fix issues before they cause system downtime. Reliable storage and rapid access to footage are non-negotiable in elevator security.

Key Features That Define a Top-Tier NVR System

The best network video recorders are equipped with features that support a wide range of surveillance needs. Essential features include multi-channel input, real-time video processing, and remote access through secure applications. In elevator settings, they must also support integration with emergency systems and intercoms. Intelligent video analytics—such as facial recognition or people counting—can add an extra layer of monitoring. In multi-floor buildings, these features help improve passenger safety and manage elevator usage more efficiently. Another important factor is reliability; a good NVR should continue to function even during network outages, ensuring no footage is ever lost.

In elevator environments, security must balance discretion and effectiveness. This is where compact NVR designs shine. A small form factor ensures the system can be installed in tight spaces like elevator control rooms or maintenance closets. Remote monitoring allows building management to observe real-time footage without needing physical access. This saves time and enables rapid response to incidents. Furthermore, with cybersecurity concerns rising, modern NVRs come equipped with encrypted data streams and user authentication. These protections guard against unauthorized access, ensuring that both recorded and live footage are only available to authorized personnel at all times.

Tailored Elevator Security Solutions That Work

Generic surveillance solutions don’t meet the unique demands of elevator systems. This is why specialized products, such as those offered by Elevator Video Systems, are essential. Their offerings are designed specifically for elevator environments, addressing challenges like limited space, signal interference, and vibration. By combining durable hardware with high-performance software, Elevator Video Systems delivers reliable and intuitive NVR setups. These solutions ensure that footage remains clear, secure, and accessible whenever it's needed. Choosing a provider that understands the vertical transportation space ensures optimal performance, lower maintenance, and greater long-term value.

By selecting an elevator-focused surveillance provider, facilities benefit from industry-specific support and guidance. Whether it's a retrofitting project or a new installation, companies like Elevator Video Systems offer customized consultation and scalable options. This means building owners get the right number of cameras, proper NVR capacity, and expert installation. When elevator security is handled with this level of attention, the results are clear: reduced vandalism, faster incident resolution, and better passenger safety. Investing in tailored solutions makes a difference not just in performance, but in the peace of mind it delivers to everyone using the building.

The Future of Elevator Surveillance Technology

As surveillance continues to evolve, the next wave of elevator security will lean heavily into AI and cloud integration. Advanced NVRs will not only store data but analyze it in real time, identifying anomalies and alerting security teams instantly. Features like behavioral analytics and predictive maintenance are becoming part of comprehensive systems. This proactive approach minimizes downtime and improves passenger experience. The shift toward centralized, intelligent control panels makes monitoring multiple elevators across a property easier than ever. With scalable cloud solutions, security managers can access footage and insights from any device, anywhere in the world.

With the rise of smart buildings, elevator security is no longer optional—it’s a necessity. A powerful NVR system is the cornerstone of any reliable setup, bridging high-quality video capture with efficient storage and retrieval. As buildings get taller and smarter, the need for robust surveillance grows. Choosing a system built specifically for elevators ensures durability, compliance, and superior performance. Whether you're managing a high-rise condo, hospital, or commercial tower, equipping your elevators with smart surveillance powered by a top-tier NVR isn't just about protecting property—it's about protecting people. Make the right investment today, and stay ahead of tomorrow’s security challenges.

[mrunalijadhav]

Smart Elevator Automation System Market: How IoT and AI Drive Efficiency in Modern Buildings

The Smart Elevator Automation System Market has experienced significant growth in recent years, driven by advancements in technology and the increasing demand for automation solutions in urban infrastructures. With the global push toward smart cities and more efficient building management, smart elevator systems are becoming integral components of modern architectural designs. These systems not only offer enhanced convenience and energy efficiency but also improve security and user experience. As the demand for high-rise buildings and multi-functional spaces grows, the market for smart elevator automation is expected to expand substantially over the next few years.

Growing Demand for Smart Buildings

The increasing trend toward smart buildings is one of the primary drivers behind the rise in smart elevator automation systems. As more commercial and residential buildings adopt smart technologies, elevators are becoming more advanced with features such as touchless controls, intelligent scheduling, and data-driven performance monitoring. These systems integrate seamlessly with building management systems (BMS) to offer real-time updates on elevator performance, maintenance needs, and energy consumption. The growing awareness about the benefits of automation in managing building operations has accelerated the adoption of these systems.

Advancements in IoT and AI Technologies

The integration of Internet of Things (IoT) technology and artificial intelligence (AI) is a key trend influencing the Smart Elevator Automation System Market. IoT-enabled elevators are equipped with sensors that collect data on elevator usage, providing insights for predictive maintenance and optimizing operational efficiency. Additionally, AI-driven algorithms can analyze passenger patterns and adjust elevator functions accordingly, improving waiting times and reducing energy usage. These technologies enhance the overall user experience, making smart elevators not only more efficient but also more intuitive.

Energy Efficiency and Sustainability

Energy efficiency is a primary concern for modern buildings, and smart elevator automation systems play a crucial role in addressing these challenges. Traditional elevators can consume significant amounts of energy, especially in high-rise buildings where multiple elevators are in operation. However, smart elevator systems can significantly reduce energy consumption through features like regenerative drives, energy-efficient motors, and automatic standby modes when not in use. Moreover, these systems contribute to a building’s overall sustainability goals by reducing the carbon footprint and aligning with green building certifications such as LEED (Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design).

Enhanced Security and User Experience

The security features offered by smart elevator systems are another compelling factor contributing to the growth of the market. These systems are equipped with biometric scanners, facial recognition technology, and access control mechanisms, making them more secure than traditional elevator systems. Smart elevators can restrict access to specific floors based on the user’s credentials, ensuring that only authorized individuals can access sensitive areas of a building. Furthermore, advanced communication systems enable elevator users to contact building security or emergency personnel directly, improving overall safety.

Market Challenges and Opportunities

Despite the promising growth of the Smart Elevator Automation System Market, several challenges could hinder market expansion. One of the main obstacles is the high upfront cost of installing these systems, which may deter smaller businesses or older buildings from adopting them. Additionally, the complexity of integrating these systems into existing infrastructures presents another challenge. However, these obstacles also present opportunities for innovation. Companies in the market are exploring solutions to reduce installation costs and simplify integration, thus making smart elevator systems more accessible to a broader range of buildings.

Regional Market Insights

Geographically, North America and Europe dominate the smart elevator automation system market, owing to their well-established infrastructure and early adoption of advanced technologies. However, the Asia-Pacific region is expected to witness the highest growth over the next few years, driven by rapid urbanization and increased investments in smart building technologies. China, India, and Japan are emerging as key players in the development and adoption of smart elevator systems, as governments and private developers invest in modernizing their cities and promoting energy-efficient infrastructure.

Future Outlook

The future of the Smart Elevator Automation System Market looks promising, with continuous innovations expected to drive growth. As technology continues to evolve, we can expect more advanced features such as predictive maintenance, AI-powered route optimization, and better integration with other smart systems within buildings. The ongoing push for sustainable and energy-efficient solutions will also propel the market forward, making smart elevators a vital component of future urban landscapes.

[upat4amwiththemoon]

Hey I’m sorry to bother, but can you do a Tony x teen reader? Platonic or familial obviously, but like where the reader isn’t smart academically and she’s constantly doing bad on tests and Tony comforting her? It’s fine if not thank you for your time either way :)

Academic validation

Summary: Tests aren’t the only thing that determine children’s intelligence.

Pairing: Tony Stark x teen!reader, Avengers x teen!reader

Warnings: I have no understanding of American education system

Word count: 870

a/n: I need that academic validation

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore

masterlists | guidelines

The huge encircled D on Y/N’s physics exam is the only thing on her mind as she walks towards the Avenger’s tower.

There’s a permanent frown on her face. She really studied for this test, she even got Tony to quiz her, but clearly that didn’t help. He’s going to be so disappointed in her.

Y/N walks into the tower, giving the security guard in the lobby a small wave before going into the elevator. She holds onto her backpack’s straps tightly as she waits for the elevator to stop on the common floor. She hopes Tony won’t be in there.

The elevator doors opens and Y/N gets out of it. Her steps are slow and quiet, she doesn’t want to announce her arrival to anyone. A shaky sigh leaves her mouth when she hears people talking in the common room.

She tries to walk past everyone, quickly but quietly, but it’s not very easy to sneak past Avengers. “Hey, kid!” Sam exclaims, waving her over to the small group hanging out on the couches.

Y/N lets out a breath, putting on a smile as she makes her way over to them. “Hi, guys.” Her eyes move over everyone. No Tony, that makes her relax just a bit. “What are you doing?”

Natasha’s arm is is laying on the couch’s back rest, her fingers gently rubbing Wanda’s shoulder, as she gives Y/N a cheeky look. “Wanda got offended when Sam said Fuller House is better than Full House, so she is making us watch Full House.”

Wanda pushes Natasha’s side, glaring at her before turning to Y/N. “No one in their right mind thinks a sequel of an iconic show is better than the show itself.” At the end of the sentence, she glares at Sam too, who raises his hands in mock surrender.

“Okay.” Y/N giggles with a shake of her head. At times she thinks of herself more mature than the adults.

“Want to join us, honey?”

“Uh,” she bites her lip, “no, I can’t sorry.” She has decided to beg her teacher for a retake of the test to get a more respectable grade to show Tony.

“Okay, but don’t think you’re getting away from watching Full House with me.” Wanda grins.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Y/N waves at the trio and makes her way to her room.

In her room, she takes out the physics exam and looks it through over and over again, until she has fully memorized which parts she did wrong. It takes two hours. Two hours, which Y/N didn’t notice going by.

A knock on her door makes her jump. Her wide eyes glance at the clock, grumbling when she notices it’s over dinner time.

“It’s open!”

Tony walks inside the room, a small grin on his face and a plate of food on his hand. “I know everyone says we’re too alike, but please don’t take up on my habit of missing meals.” He sets the plate down on her desk. “It’s a bad habit, kiddo.”

“I won’t.” Y/N lets out an airy laugh, setting the test paper on the desk and pulling the plate in front of her.

“That your physics test?” Tony grabs the sheet of paper before Y/N is able to hide it.

“No!”

“What?” Tony glances at her with a frown. His eyes skim over both sides of the paper.

Y/N bites the inside of her cheek, her gaze going straight to the floor as she feels disappointment seeping into her body. “I did badly.” She mumbles, waiting for Tony’s criticism.

“So?” Tony sets the test back down. “Do you know how bad I did in school? I’m still absolutely brilliant.” He sits on her bed.

“Yeah.. but you’re great at physics, and math, and all that important stuff.”

“Sure.” Tony nods. “But this is only one test,” he taps the paper, “and you’re so great at so many things. You get As on history and English, you have a great eye for design, you have impeccable people skills, even though you hate most of them.” He laughs. “One physics exam doesn’t mean shit.”

Y/N looks at Tony, a small frown on her face. “But I want to be like you.”

“Kiddo, no one is going to be like me, not should they try to be like me.” Tony pats Y/N’s knee. “Is physics your passion?”

“I don’t know what my passion is.”

“Well, when you find your passion, I will be the one to hire you to work in a job that you love. Because no child living under my roof will work a day in their life in a job they despise. Yes, I will always encourage you to do your best at tests, but I’ll be proud of you no matter how well or bad you do in them.”

Sniffling, Y/N lunges to hug Tony. He embraces her right back, holding onto her tightly as long as she needs to be held, because even though he doesn’t love physical touch, he refuses to be the first one to pull away when a kid he considers his needs comfort.

[reidsism]

➳ A PROJECT — S.R

to nav 𓇙 to s.r mlist 𓇙 to records!reader mlist

spencer reid x archivist!fem!reader

dr reid visits basement three for the first time since joining the fbi. it’s… a little jarring, how empty it is. but the records room is quiet chaos and he thinks it’s a fine place to make a friend

wc: 1.1k

warnings: none!!!!!!! all fluff <3

a/n: WELCOME RECORDS!READERRR 🥳 this takes place second in the timeline so far (but i cant be assed to write in order lol)

You’re halfway through reorganizing three decades' worth of cold case files by updated indexing protocol when you hear the knock—soft, hesitant.

It’s still enough to scare the hell out of you, though.

Your yelp is embarrassingly loud, and you bump your head on the open drawer above you, the sound of metal echoing through the room, bouncing off shelves.

“Sorry, sorry!” comes his voice immediately, full of wide-eyed concern as he steps into the doorway. “I really didn’t mean to startle you. Are you okay?”

You’re already scrambling out from behind a shelf, paperclips stuck to your cardigan and a pen in your hair somehow. You look wild and, frankly, you’re mortified.

“Dr. Reid!” you breathe, blinking at him like he’s a painting that suddenly walked off the wall. “Um, yes! I’m fine, it’s just—sorry, it’s a total disaster in here, I was just reorganizing by incident year instead of investigation date, and it sort of…” You wince, looking at the mess. “Escalated.”

Spencer looks around at the utter chaos. Drawers are open randomly, boxes filled with manila folders sit piled on the floor, sheets of paper and stacks of folders labeled in your handwriting scatter the concrete floor. It should be overwhelming, but honestly? He thinks it’s kind of amazing.

“You’re reorganizing the entire cold case section?” he asks, eyes wide.

You nod, nervously fidgeting with your sleeve. “I- It wasn’t in the new system,” you say quickly. “I just thought it might help, y’know… in the future. Make it easier to find them.” You shrug lamely.

Spencer just blinks at you. “...You did all of this by yourself?” He thinks there’s no way. The records room is massive; every single case file dating back to the FBI’s very inception is stored here. There’s no possible, conceivable way that the Bureau rests all of it on one person’s shoulders.

But you nod shyly, glancing away. “I like having a project,” you murmur, tucking your arms in close, crossing them over your chest.

And oh, the way you say that? Like you’re trying to shrink yourself down into nothing, trying to drown yourself in this paper sea of white and beige, like it’s a bad thing to be so smart and passionate and dedicated? He feels it in his chest. “That’s incredible,” he breathes out. He means it. “Really, it’s- it’s genius.”

Your eyes go fractionally wide, the barest hint of a smile twitching at your lips, startled and small. He smiles back. You blink at him like you don’t quite know what to do with the compliment, so you chew at your lip, quickly pivoting back to the task at hand. “Um—what were you looking for, Dr. Reid?”

And it actually takes him a second to remember. He mentioned needing a file, but he gave a fake reason; something to excuse himself from the bullpen and Hotch, and make his way to sublevel three. He could’ve just had it brought up, like always, but something was pulling him downstairs.

He feels… guilty, almost. He’s worked here for twelve years, and not once has he ever stepped foot on the floor beneath the parking garage.

It’s… a little jarring. How empty it is. The short hallway coming off the elevator is barren, all concrete and tile and a single sign reading “records archive”, as if it’s necessary when there’s only one door. The air in the hallway is immediately frigid, but the records room is warm. Too hot. Stuffy. He thinks it’s messing with his head because he can’t remember what he even came looking for. Him—with an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory.

You’d been stuck in his head since Hotch had requested your assistance on a case a week earlier. He’d heard of you, of course, through the typical office gossip. The goblin that hides in the records room, who talks to the walls and thinks the people in the files are her friends. The mole-person living in the basement, who hasn’t seen sunlight since the Bush administration, the FBI’s very own cryptid. Some people just didn’t believe in your existence at all, insisting that you were some myth, a fable of the archivist who died in the records room, relegated to “haunting it for eternity,” using you as a reason to head home at the end of the day.

He never believed any of it anyway, he knows office gossip is just about as reliable as a conversation with the dead. But it’s the kind of thing that’s stuck with him. Because you seemed… painfully normal, when you were in the round-table room. Nervous, sure. Awkward, very. But certainly not a goblin, or a cryptid, or a mole-person.

Now all he wants to do is watch you, observe the work you’re doing, nearly forty feet below the rest of the FBI. He’s curious about how it all works, how you manage to handle all of this, entirely on your own. He wants to ask what your favourite case is, which ones broke your heart, which one you reread when you can’t sleep. He wonders if you’ve read his reports.

He swallows roughly. “I think I forgot,” he mutters, awkwardly adjusting the strap of his messenger bag.

You blink at him. “You… forgot the case you needed?” Your brows pinch in confusion, and oh. Spencer’s gone. He can feel it.

“I… get distracted easily,” he offers, and it’s almost smooth. Not quite. The lie stings at his tongue and he winces.

But you? You laugh. And it’s soft. It’s the first time he’s ever heard it, and oh, he already wants to hear it again. Endlessly.

He thinks it might be his new favourite sound.

Spencer clears his throat before he can spiral too far to get himself out. “I should, um,” he thumbs over his shoulder. “I should get back.”

You nod, gnawing on your lip. “For sure, uh,” you cough. “I’ll be here if you manage to remember that file you needed.”

He grins, pursing his lips together tightly before backing out of the room. He slams his palm on the elevator button and takes a breath.

You’re weird. He thinks he likes you.

***

You’re standing alone again, surrounded by a tornado of chaos. You blink at the now-empty space Dr. Reid was standing in.

You exhale shakily before allowing yourself a small smile, turning to the shelving unit again.

He’s weird. You think you like him.

[profilerclra]

Why does she give a damn about me? | Spencer Reid x Reader

cutesy, cheesy fluff

In wich Spencer thinks reader is out of his league but she could not be more into him.

Content: Garcia is a queen as always, sunshine!reader

Warnings: Maybe some light lack of self steem from spence, but nothing crazy!!

He was used to it at this point. Being the weird kid in high school and college, Spencer never really expected anyone to be into him and, after being rejected a couple of times, he had practically closed himself off in that sense. But then, you came into the picture.

You are one of those girls that everyone seemed to gravitate toward, not only because of your beauty but because of your essence. You were genuinely kind, smart and good with people in a way he wished he was, maybe that’s why he was so drawn to you, you had all the qualities he wished he had and being close to you made him feel complete.

Needless to say that he was in love with you, it had started as an admiration and when he realized he was thinking about you all the time, but he was sure you would never be into guys like him, he was sure you’d never see him as more than friends.

–

You had joined the team a few years ago, you were excited to finally be doing what you really wanted when you joined the BAU, going out in the field and being on cases instead of just working a desk job all the time. When you first met the team, everyone seemed very welcoming but you felt yourself especially drawn to Spencer out of all people, at first he seemed distant but with time you noticed how sweet he was and how much he cared for everyone around him and god that man was so funny, you loved his weird science jokes and his magic tricks. How were you supposed to not fall in love with him? You asked yourself that question every time he brought you coffee in the morning or went on his rambles about some random thing.

After a particularly intense inquiry from a very drunk Garcia in one of the girls' nights she organized at her home, you told her your feelings for Reid and she made you swear you would act on it.

“Garcia, I'm not confessing. He's not into me like that, i’ll just ruin our friendship”

“Oh honey, he practically kisses the floor you walk in, he follows you around the office like a lost puppy and practically kills any officer that dares to be the tiniest bit mean to you. There’s no way he’s not into you, at least try pretty please” She says, doing puppy eyes at you. Garcia took her job as a cupid very seriously and was not going to let this be her first fail.

“Alright, i’ll try but if he ends up hating me you’ll have to bake me cookies everyday until i die” You say rolling your eyes and finishing your glass of wine.

“Ohhh i’ll be cooking cookies for you guys wedding!”

–

So, here you are holding his favorite order from the local coffee shop and gathering the courage to press the button to the elevator

“Hey are you fine?” A familiar voice calls you, when you turn around its spencer.. Great, guess you’ll have to do this right now

“Oh hi yeah, I was just um… meditating”

“Did you know meditanting has been proven to increase your memory and is also great for reducing anxiety. I really should start doing it, what method do you use?” Spencer says while pressing the button to the elevator

“Ummm breath in, breath out i think” You say, unsure how to respond

“That's actually one of the best ways as it oxygenates your brain and helps it work better, it can also help you feel more calm since deep breathing activates the parasympathetic nervous system that sends a signal to your brain to tell the anxious part that you're safe and don't need to use the fight, flight response” He says, doing the little smile and head nod thing he always does after info dumping.

You smile back at him, as you both enter the elevator and press the button to the BAU floor.

“I brought you something” You say, handing him the coffee shop bag

He opens it and smiles at you “I can’t believe you remembered my favorites, thank you so much” You love that smile so much, all you can think about is how perfect he is and how there’s no way you can continue on without dating this man.

“Actually, I need to tell you something spence… I was thinking, maybe we could go out together as like, a date or something” You say, already blushing from the embarrassment you felt and how scared you were that he did not reciprocate the feelings.

“Really? Of course i want, to be honest i’ve wanted to ask you to be honest but i thought you’d never see me like that”

“Are you kidding me spencer? I’ve had a crush on you since we first meet”

The elevator gets to the office, and you both walk in blushing and joking about how you two were so blind to each other's feelings. As you get in, garcia passes by you two stopping to stare

“There’s something happening here…” She says, pointing between you two and pressing her eyes together as if she’s profiling you two

“I asked him out”

“Oh my god finally, you see? I’m always right, I don’t even need to ask what he said, look at Reid, he’s glowing, ohh i’m so happy” She says, walking out to probably tell the news to everyone on the team.

[meanbossart]

Can we learn more about Izzy and Grod? What’s their signs and love language(s)?

Izzantar is a major character in ANE! Because of that, mind you that pretty much everything I'm about to say next is a spoiler for the fic.

He was raised a mercenary alongside his older brother, his parents are alive but don't have much of a relationship with them aside from getting reports of their progress and achievements from the institution they live in and "work" for (it's not like he gets paid as much as just provided for) essentially, him and his sibling belongs to the institution itself. At the "present" time (during ANE) he is 32 years old and his brother is freshly dead.

Izzantar does not excel particularly in combat or magic, but he has a knack for getting his way regardless. He is the type of person who understands the system he is in and has chosen to play it to his benefit instead of making any efforts to escape or improve his situation by honest means. This works fairly well for him. He's a favorite of the head matron and has transactional relationships with several people around his area, including the slaves. He's "friends" with a hobgoblin who provides him with recreational drugs and spreads the word that he's a little more laxed than the other drow, basically. When he's not being a secret rebel, he is flawlessly sucking up to his superiors; however, he's been on edge since the death of his brother, which according to drow culture should have elevated him to first-born status and allowed him a smidge more respect from his peers, parents and superios - except that hasn't happened, and Izzantar is now starting to crumble under the stress of his situation.

Through a series of... Events, Izzantar will eventually end up on the surface and without the option of ever returning home.

He meets Grodderick through a common acquaintance of Astarion's. The half-orc is huge people's person and he's immediately amused by Izzantar's fish-out-of-water situation. Izzantar actually feels more comfortable with him than he does to any of the other people around for complicated reasons, so they become buddies of sorts. Later friends with benefits. And sometime after that they enter a romantic partnership.

Grodderick is somewhere in his late-twenties/early-thirties. He was raised by a single, half-elf mother who was ostracized for having a half-orc child. He was a difficult, angry kid who left home when he was 14 years old and made a living through any means - seedy or otherwise - traveling a great deal through Faerun in the process and always making money just as quickly as he burned through it with booze and gambling. He eventually gets back in touch with his mother through correspondence and starts sending some of the gold he made to her instead - when she passes away, he returns home to find out she had just kept it for him instead of using it for herself. From that point forward, Grodderick decides to try and settle down instead of continuing with his criminal career.

He uses his mother's savings to get by while he jumps from town to town and works small, manual labor jobs. Eventually, he gets something more permanent with a wealthy real estate investor in a city called Pran - an eccentric lady called Nathanya Shaltiel who hires him to maintain her estate and accompany her through/act out financial dealings in her stead.

Overall, Grodderick has just done a lot of growth over the course of his life and turned out to be a really chill and smart guy. He's a big reader, he can make friends with almost anybody, he's extremely laid back. He smokes (🌿), he doesn't drink alcohol anymore, but he still likes to hang out at an inn or pub for the company. He keeps in touch with a couple of his old friends who are still living a very different life.

Despite coming from very different backgrounds, Izzantar kind of reaches the same conclusion eventually WRT what he wants - to just settle down and try to live as stress-free as possible. He proves to be a very loving person in his weird way and Grodderick is fine with that - he thinks that his drow temperament is hysterical most of the time - the rest of the time, he's telling him that whatever he just said/did doesn't fly on the surface, and it especially won't fly with him, lol.

Their relationship revolves a lot around cultural exchange, I guess, and relies heavily on Grodderick's ability to understand, without judgement, why someone may feel attached to aspects of their homes/upbringing that others may consider cruel or barbaric. It also helps him reflect on his own, complicated relationship with his orc-ish roots, since he now has someone around who doesn't find the inherit violence of that history particularly shocking or strange.

At some point he gets Izzantar a cat. Izzantar gives it a really traditional drow name that translates to like "Champion of Death" or something but any time anyone casts Speak With Animals on the thing it's just going "love mommy :3 oooohhh want pets from mommy :3 love mommy so much". Izzy spends years trying to turn it into a killing machine but all it does is bring him socks and underwear.

I don't know what their love language/signs are, but they like to take turns talking about each other's days and Izzantar gets mad when Grodderick doesn't wake him up when he comes home from a late shift. Grodderick's secret guilty pleasure is boasting to his friends that he's got a hot drow wife who won't get off his dick, LOL.

[freeluigihesbae]

𝓹𝓸𝓹𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓫𝓾𝓫𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓼 - 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 1

(3,081) words

summary: you're mean. you're bad. but your smart enough to get grades and attention and yet, breaking luigi mangione to be the kind of person you are doesn't seem to work.

little do ya know, he's about to break you instead.

ᴛᴡ: ɴᴏɴᴇ, ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴛᴇɴꜱɪᴏɴ, ɴᴏᴛ ꜰᴜʟʟʏ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰʀᴇᴀᴅ

~

Computer Science.

Now, hear me out would be the best phrase. Yeah, that's right. You're a woman in computer science at one of the snarkiest, headstrong universities in the country. Penn wasn't all that bad excluding the thousands of students that made it up. Normally, situations would push you be the bigger person and reserve some sense of decency. But in such a competitive market where you were paying to get paid, you had to be nasty.

It just so happened that what started out to be a guide now turned into you. You were and still are a snarky, irritating person that somehow turns heads every time you walk into the room. You've got the typical high-school style clique of girls fawning over you and everyone elevates your position because they are no better.

It does you good, this attitude, because it took you all but two whole semester to kick your grades up so high and absolute shatter the expectations of the degree that people didn't mind ignoring your arrogance to admire how smart you must've been.

Don't get it wrong, because you were and are smart. You're a student but better, you're the Kris Jenner of your year. You were good at marketing shallowness that somehow, was keeping you afloat with profit coming in the form of grades, internships, and attention.

In process, it became frustrating to see others who happened to be in a similar place. You wanted all the eyes on you so you went low with your actions and words to make sure it stayed that way but then, Intermediate Systems - COMPSCI 1570, rolls around and you're paired with Luigi Mangione.

Not paired with, actually, but put in a class with him. But paired in the sense of competition - who could get the most attention. You hate eo admit it, but the guy has got these ridiculously well-defined curls that are so tame yet alluring, it makes you want to rip his head off. You hate the way his smile is effortlessly charming and warms you heart. You hate the kindness that it makes bubble up inside of you.

On the more technical side, you hated how well-rounded the competition between you two was. He knew exactly who you were and you knew him, which meant he always played to get at you. You heard from everyone about how his nose was deep in the books and computer, trying his best to ace the exam only to quietly pass his grade to you. Sometimes, you did better. It made you feel like you're walking on Cloud 9, knowing this irritatingly handsome asshole could be squashed beneath your foot for this one moment, but other times? Oh, he decimated you. The professor would let his name escape from their lips, rather than yours.

It was an ultimate motivation, as you sit there, digging your nails into your palm and wondering why Luigi deserved it. How dare he step above you? How dare he pursue ambition rather than letting you have it all for yourself?

It was such a selfish notion and pursuit that had managed to seduce you with such blindness you never thought to question how you could be such a cruel, tasteless indivdual.

Yet he did. And he did so in all fairness. He, unlike you, was friends with everyone. With the bright-hair colored wimps in the corners and the sluttiest-for-him girls that applied themselves onto him with utter desire which he only combated with smiles and ultimate respect.

How frustrating, really, because even when you did beat him in an exam score, you could never beat him character wise. He would always stand above you and in truth, you were the bug. You were the dust beneath his feet so apart from your degree, you had another thing to acheive.

Him.

Not sleeping with him, no. Not fucking or kissing him throat deep. No.

Rather, being able to break his goody-two shoes act, you called. In reality, it was just him. Luigi Mangione just was a good person and that truth was so sour you only looked at him to arrogantly call him such a good boy and you hated it

You had to make him mean and nasty just like you.

That's exactly what you were going to do.

Or try to.

~

Luigi is sitting at his computer, working away on a new project the professor had assigned a few days ago. No matter where he was, he caught your eyes and this time was no different.

You walk over, swaying your hips a bit too seductively, biting your lip and wearing a stupidly sardonic smile. Your top is a low v-cut, exposing the rounds of your breasts that you were sure to apply body glitter on so everyone's eyes would stare like they were the prize. Your skirt was hiked up just enough to stir wonder and want, and as always, these were only ingredients for your experiment named Luigi Mangione.

"Hey Luigi." You wink before pulling a chair and sitting down next to him, tilting you head to the site with a pout while staring at the screen, scanning his code. It was habit, so your mind was translating the numbers and symbols into understandable language, hiding how impressed you are at all costs.

You're also relieved because you have the same answers, but we don't speak of that, now do we?

"You again." Luigi turns his head and you feel like clawing your heart out of your chest just to stop the butterflies you feel in your stomach. His lips are parted and puffy, the gap speaking a quiet invitation as if they're meant to be kissed. His nose bridge is screaming an intelligent form of dominance over the situation, as his facial curves the remainder of his gentle vice towering over you, soft yet present in all its overwhelming glory.

"Don't like me Lu? Am I too smart for you to admit?" You giggle, high pitched and bend forward, letting your biceps squeeze your breasts more as you bite your lip and look up at him with poisonously doe-y eyes, trying to make him fall. He takes a cursory glance, though, at your body before chuckling and typing away at his code.

"Are you too poor to figure that out for yourself?" His words cut at your ego and your expression instantly falls, sitting back in the chair and your loud, shocked exhales doesn't go un-missed by either of your. You curse at yourself quietly for letting it make a sound while Luigi only types away, as if he heard nothing.

He heard. Oh, yes, he did.

"Mangione is being an ass today? Code giving you a tough time Lu?" Your voice shakes at first, tears coming to your eyes in reaction to his demeaning question and he doesn't make that much better, ignoring you but smirking as if you're in desperate need of pity and attention.

Because you are and without saying it, he loves showing it to you time and time again.

The lack of answer enrages as you as you feel your heart rate shoot through your chest, prompting you to slam a few keys on his keyboard to which he only pauses, staring at your fingers. He watches how they shake, your acrylics getting stuck in the gaps between the board and keys. The way they wince from the tug of those pauses yet, there is an innocent and pitiable need that he sees and recognizes but staying silent.

Luigi turns his head toward you, cocking his neck down and to the side.

"You done? 'Cause I'm almost finished my code and seeing your excursions on Instagram makes me think your situation is otherwise." He smiles at you and you pant, removing your hands from his keyboard.

"You infuriate me Mangione." You dig your hands into your palm before continuing. "I'm finished dimwit. It's a one-part project and I submitted it yesterday because as always, I would never submit it the day its due, which is today and which is fairly typical for you." You twirl your hair between your fingers, uncaring if he admires you body as your get drunk in the expectance of hearing him sarcastically compliment you.

It's still something, even if he won't mean it.

But instead, his mouth parts and his eyes widen before contorting into a concerningly amused smile and before you know it, he's bending over the table and laughing into the table before looking back up at you.

Your expression is unchanged, but your body goes rigid with expectation.

He pulls his body away from the computer, shutting it down and putting it in his back before he places a hand on your knee.

A shiver makes its way from his fingers to your neck.

"Sweetheart," He starts talking, drawing out the pet name before his other hand slams a packet on the table.

You stare at the papers and back at Luigi.

"Is this a lecture for how I'm supposed to be a good girl?" You bite at him, words unforgiving. He raises his eyebrows before shaking his head and standing up. Your eyes follow, taking in the beauty of his height.

Heat seizes your comfort in the moment as he bends down and speaks into your ear, letting both arms cage you in the chair.

"It's a 3-part assignment. You forgot to scroll all the way down, sweetheart." You eyes widen and you turn your head up to look at him, nearly whimpering when you realize his lips are less than an inch away from yours. Suddenly, all your egotistic ideas and bubbles burst and melt away, leaving you naked as you fight the obligation to cross your eyes from how close he is. He stays in place, pushing himself back while staring into your eyes.

Your lips are parted, vulnerable in arousal and shock as a hand comes to push some loose threads behind your ear. You blink slowly, lips quivering as your realize your royally fucked because one part took four days and now, you had to complete two more in less than eight hours.

Luigi coos, watching how you break slowly in front of him, before his face is back the stoic yet kind approach he utilizes.

"See you at the submission deadline. Or not." He leaves after lifting a hand of yours and placing it on the flipped over directions packet, one that held a dirty, ugly, and devastating truth that you were lef tto fend with until 11:59pm.

~

"You look like you need a beer." Your roommate, Kate, pats your head as you're hunched over, posture despicable as you somehow manage to finish the second and half of the third part using some of your own ideas and resources.

Those resources... which aren't supposed to.

But you could care less.

"Right." You give a curt reply, ignoring the sound of a Coke popping open in Kate's hands, which you don't even need to see to realize.

"Why don't you just let loose for the evening?" Kate casually asks and you half slam your hands on the table.

"I've got this stupid project for my Systems class which I need to finish. Didn't read all the directions and now I'm cramming, so no thank you Kate." Kate raises her eyebrows before laughing.

"Hey, isn't that the class that Mangione guy is in?" She asks curiously and you freeze up.

Not him.

You rolls your eyes, ignoring how your breaths falter as you turn around and nod. "Yeah, what about 'm?" You furrow your eyebrows, licking your lips as they suddenly dry up. Kate gives you a suspicious look.

"I've heard he's one of the smartest guys. Maybe you should ask him at his frat party later." Kate supplies and before you can scream and shout in retaliation, she gets up and opens her closet.

"You can unshackle yourself and get that assignment done. Win-in to me." She rummages through her bling and glitter bodycon dresses, unbeknownst to your fuming.

You had to let her know that was out of question.

"Over my dead body." You spit the words out and Kate turns around, a dress in her hand but she barely reacts.

"And a shit GPA. Suit yourself hardass." She nudges your sitting figure with her hips before before leaving the room, leaving your to your thoughts.

This was, like any other, a crucial project and this was one of the most important classes because a stellar grade in this class meant a higher chance at a scholarship you were applying for. They liked you, but they wanted to see the grade you get in this class as a deal-breaker. If you aced, you got the scholarship.

It was everything, then, this class. You already were utilizing ChatGPT, your textbook, GitHub, and every source on the planet.

Just a half-part more.

But somehow, the last half was the hardest and it ate away two hours of your time already. Every late submission was docked 30% which would drop your grade into a B+ range, something you did not want to admit. Something that would happen because those few times Luigi beat you, he crushed you by over 20-30%.

You were not doing as well as you wanted to in the class.

You check the time, letting the 9:30pm flash into your eyes before the screen quietly goes black.

Maybe an hour wouldn't hurt.

But whatever you did, you were going to walk out finishing this project yourself and not asking Luigi.

~

"You came?" Kate is yelling over the music, dragging you by the arm as you stumbled through the people dancing over the music.

"The fuck? I didn't know Psi Kappa was this disgusting!" You nearly scream, letting Kate guide you through the place. You scan the crowd, trying to find familiar faces and friends so you can gain some footing in the place. The music is too loud, making your head pound.

The smell of alcohol, something you refused to drink, kicked around the nausea and for a second, you regret even stepping foot into this place.

Of course, that all melts away when your eyes land on Luigi Mangione.

He's wearing a white polo shirt, unbuttoned 3/4 of the way down as his pecs and defined abs scream for everyone's attention, detailed in their allure. His arms are deliciously toned and even, despite the flashy lights and revolving colors of the place. His head is craned to the side as you watch him talking up another girl, letting her feel him up.

You don't realize you're staring until his eyes suddenly swerve, directly piercing into yours. You physically feel yourself stutter, freezing as you let him hold the eye-contact. An ever-so teasing smile grace his lips before he's bending down and whispering something into the girl's ear.

You watch her pout, a face she quickly replaces with a flirty smile before letting her sight linger on Luigi and choosing to walk away. He chugs the rest of his drink down before, to your horror, he's walking in your direction.

Funny enough, the crows shifts to the start of a new song and the new gap in front of your confirms he's walking only towards you.

You instinctively take a step back against the soft strain of your own bodycon dress, feeling your legs shake as you hit the bar counter and reluctantly, you face a now towering Luigi smirking down at you.

"What happened to that attitude?" His question should sound a lot meaner, but instead, it comes out soft with a warning and hint of shame intertwined. Your head pounds as you force yourself to come up with some jumble of words to respond.

"It's there." You breath the statement out, but it's not too convincing. Luigi uses that to take a step closer and now, you're forced to stare up and into his eyes.

"Doesn't seem like it. How's that project comin' along?" He cages you in again, both arm circling around your already very limited space and you turn your head to the side, steeling yourself against his presence.

Something about the effect he has on you is so humiliating. This wasn't matching your brand - bitchy, arrogant, and perfect. Rather, this was a complete juxtaposition. You always keep control of the situation with your machinations or outright insults but now, that was not happening.

"Fine." You answers through your teeth, facing away from him still and suddenly you feel his mouth too close to your ear.

"Liar." He whispers it and you nearly moan, gulping down the sounds. He watches you shiver lightly, soaking in the helplessness that is starting to take over your figure.

"You need help baby?" He pushes the boundary, enjoying how you squirm more with every second he forces himself into your space. You're at a loss for words now, unable to distinguish between arousal, frustration, and utter confusion at your behavior right now.

So, you simply shake your head no.

It's an insufficient answers because Luigi's fingers are suddenly gripping either side of your face, making you gasp, before he forces you to look at him.

"Tell me the truth baby." Fuck, that name was really getting to you and his fuckable lips and hands were not helping right now.

Relinquishing the control you never had didn't seem like too bad of an option right now.

"I don't answer to you." You steel yourself, contorting your face and looking up at him with siren eyes which doesn't stand for long before his other hand is making it's way up your thigh and between your legs.

"I don't have a problem," He talks low and seductively in your ear, making your listen to the gravel in his voice, teasing his fingers upwards and watching you heave you chest up and down with increasing nervousness. You let your guard down, whimpering for a second before he retracts both hands.

"I'll get it out of you baby. We all need help sometimes and you..." he trails off, staring at your face that is lolling, lips parted and undoubtedly watery.

"You deserve to get the attitude fucked out of you." And with that, he pushes himself back and through the crowd, not even caring to give a glance back before leaving you alone and shaking, ready to cry.

You were such a weak, pathetic little girl and now, Luigi knew it.

~

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[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

American Psycho Killer: The Sequel

Summary: After Leon perfectly got away with murder and finally got the chance to be with the girl who lived just down the hall, he hasn't noticed that she, too, was just like him.

Warning: stalking, murdering, mentions of planned murder, death, smut, creampie, yan!leon, not proofread lol, fem reader, psychopathic, yan!reader, stalking, masturbating (female), dry humping, this might be my nastiest work yet

A/N: RAHHH GUESS WHO PASSED HER PSYCHOLOGY FINAL- ME!!!! im a certified psychologist now (this is joke btw)

[part one]

“I got you under my skin” - Mirotic, TVXQ!

People always seem to forget that not all psychopaths are the same. Sure, most share the same goal. But not every psychopath is the same. According to Kurt Scheinder, there are different personality types within the psychopathic community.

Leon's an affectionless psychopath; he's cold, antisocial, manipulative, and very assertive. He's a perfect murderer who kills anyone who dares to touch or hurt you. But he won't show or tell you how concerned he is for you. He doesn't feel love. No, it's quite different.

Psychopaths can fall in love with other people, but it's not the same. Leon's emotions are shallow and empty. But he still wants you to be his. He's possessive over you, he wants you in a sense that he can't even explain it himself.

But what he doesn't know is that you were also in the same percentage of psychopaths. You aren't affectionless, you're an obsessive psychopath. Obsessive psychopaths are people who are extremely possessive and become obsessed with people. These types of people often act on their jealousy and sexual fantasies. What he didn’t know was that you were deep down the trenches for him.

After having sex with the man, he cleaned you up and left your apartment room. It was late and he had work tomorrow, like every day. You felt conflicted, in a way, you had sex with your neighbor on the day of your ex's funeral. If you believed in God, you were sure he would send you straight to hell. But you didn't care. Leon made you feel things you hadn't felt before.

You found yourself thinking about him and the way he filled you up. Luck was with you the next morning when you bought the last morning-after pill. The woman behind you glaring at you as you shamelessly grinned at her. You didn't care, why should you? You didn't want to get knocked up, as much as you'd love the idea of carrying Leon's child, you barely knew the man.

But that didn't stop you from taking his pictures every time he walked by. Your phone angled slightly as you took pictures of him when you two were in the elevator, or when you'd see him from your window as he walked away from his car. You'd watch him like a hawk watching the fish in the river, waiting for the perfect moment to claw deep into its fins and carry it to its nest.

Was this illegal? Probably but then again, most things were illegal in such a fucked up and greedy country. You cheated the system; too smart for them as you found loopholes around the terribly written constitution. You knew you could get away with anything if you played your cards right- a gamble.

Being a psychopath isn't praised in society, people hate such disconnected individuals but being a psychopath yourself, you actually blended in. No one would question your obsessive and stalking habits. No one would even guess that the sweet girl from the apartment building had a wall full of candid photos of the blonde agent.

You stood back as you marveled at the sights. Hundreds of photos plastered on the beige wall, all from different angles and days. Some you took when he had his morning jog, some were when you stayed up all night waiting for him to come home. Something about the way he looked when he was exhausted just turned you on. The wall was right in front of your bed. Every night, when you'd go to sleep, you would stare at the pictures and get all excited about your perverted fantasies.

As you stared at the wall with the photos, your hands slipped down your pajama shorts. Fingers rubbing against the lacey panties you wore. It was perverted but a part of you took pleasure in the way the countless pictures stared at you as you rubbed your clothed clit. Back arching as you bit your bottom lip, trying not to be too loud for the neighbors to hear.

It wasn't enough. You needed more.

Poor pillow, you thought as you took a long pillow from behind you. You sat up and straddled the pillow as you faced the Leon wall. The picures staring right back you as you rocked your hips against the comforting material. Wetness pooling in your panties, making them stick to your needy cunt as you humped the pillow, pretending it was him. The wetness seeped through your pajama shorts, feeling the cold slick collect as you rocked your hips. If anyone were to see you, you'd be embarrassed. Going off on the pictures of your neighbor as you rode the pillow pretending it was his cock. Your clit rubbed against the lace material of your panty, your folds gliding with ease as every hump. God, you felt like a teenage girl when she first discovers what Wattpad is.

Moans collected in your throat, daring to escape as you shut your eyes tightly closed. Bliss overtaking you as you grinded against your pillow harder and faster, like a dog in heat. Your hands squeezed tightly around the soft fabric of what you pretended would be Leon's shoulders- maybe neck if you wanted to feel more dominant. The pillow slowly began to get stained with your slick as you neared your orgasm, the way your panty roughly grinded against your cunt and clit set you aflame. It was all so wet and arousing; it got your back arching as you could just picture his cock thrusting up into your womb, sliding through your tight gummy walls as he would grip your hips and bounce you on his leaking cock. Even the thought of him made you cum faster. Feeling the way his muscles would feel and flex as you drove him to the edge from your riding, the way his sweat smelled as if it was an aphrodisiac. Addicting. He made you an addict.

Cumming hard on the pillow, your thighs trembled and your moans escaped your lips. As you rode through your high, you couldn't help but feel conflicted once again. This was psychotic behavior but who was here to judge you? Exactly, no one. Not even Leon's pictures who were staring directly at you. With a quiet sigh, you got off the pillow and began to clear the mess you left. All while you kept thinking about him.

-

The landlord of your apartment building was a strange man. Supportive, but strange. He had a basement in which he'd host events about anything. He believed he was some sort of Messiah that was sent by God to help cure the people of whatever was pestering them. Today was no different; you found yourself sitting in one of the chairs in the basement along with the other tenants. Leon was there too. Sitting on the other side of the basement with his arms crossed over his chest as he sat far away.

"Thank you all for coming, today I want to talk about a few things. Like grief. We know that the death of a recent tenant has been...difficult to overcome," the landlord began- referring to the guy that died from the fire. They never caught Leon, so no one suspected a thing, not even you.

"The fire department has told me that I should revise a fire drill in case something like this happens again," the landlord's voice was soft and you could swear he was high. Or maybe he wasn't and that was just the way he talked, either way, it made you want to fall asleep.

"Just so we're clear- there is a fire exit only on the right side of the building. The door to the stairs will only open once the smoke detectors have detected a fire. Do not, and i can't stress this enough, do not pry it open. Those things cost a fortune and I'd hate to have to increase everyone's rent." Everyone grumbled at the thought of paying more for some idiot's actions. Leon, however, just remained silent and observed. You couldn't help but steal glances at him, just admiring the way his brows were pinched together as his lips were a straight line.

For a white man, he looked very attractive. You'd let this white man colonize you.

And then his eyes landed on you. Those piercing blue eyes that were hard to read found your own, and he held eye contact. Daring you to look away, to which you couldn't. You were too enthralled, as if he threw a spell at you. Not like you'd mind, of course, but this man was intimidatingly attractive.

You had to pull your eyes away from the intense eye contact as the landlord kept talking. From your peripheral vision, you could see how a woman approached Leon and sat down next to him.

At first, you didn’t think too much of it. You thought but not too much. Until her laughter made its way to your ears. Her laugh was as if nails were scratching on the board of some classroom. You hated it. It drove you insane.

Her laughter could be heard- it was fake and forced, it had to be. No one laughed like that. She had to be flirting with Leon and it only made you feel rage and jealousy. God, you needed to calm down. Or maybe you needed to kill her. His expression wasn't different. He was simply just staring at her. How you wished that was you sitting on his cock as you memorized his face. As you counted the blackheads he had on his nose, as your eyes traced the wrinkles and acne scars. You wanted to memorize his entire being.

Kill her? The thought never appeared in your head but who were you to argue against your thoughts. You trusted yourself.

Once the landlord had stopped talking, you were the first one to dash out of the basement. Not without looking at how the woman basically threw herself him. Her breasts pressing against his chest. His face was unreadable, just coldly staring at her as she tried to seduce him. It made your blood boil. How dare she do that to your man? She needed to learn her lesson.

The next few days, you've been studying. Not because you had exams, no, you studied for other reasons. You studied the human anatomy as well as some chemistry.

One night, around 3AM, you came back from the library you were in. Just freshly studied, you had many ideas on how to kill her. A part of you, the good part, thought that this was immoral and terrible. But the other part told you that no one, absolutely no one, dares to flirt with your man. He's not even your man officially but he might as well be for all the times you masturbated in front of his pictures.

When you were on campus, you "borrowed" some tools. Of course, you were going to be nice and return them to the STEM building before they even charge you for overusing their supplies.

Being an obsessive and jealous psychopath, you're bound to be reckless and impulsive. But not this time. This time, you were going to be calculated. You had a plan orchestrated for her murder.

You made your way to the security room where the security cameras screened the halls of the apartment complex. As you lock picked the door, you entered quietly. Your footsteps softly thudding against the carpeted floor. The room had about 8 or 9 TV screens that showed different angles of the different floors. On one of them, you noticed Leon walking through the parking lot. He must've come back from work; he usually does at this time.

Hacking the security cameras weren't easy. You desperately wanted to just smash the entire setup, but you knew that would only make you more suspicious. You needed to control your temper. Plus, you wouldn't do that to your landlord. He's a cheap guy and would rather not pay from his pocket, he'd probably increase the rent to pay for the damages you could cause.

After some minutes, the screens all turned static, giving you the sign to proceed with your plan.

You stepped out of the room, closing the door on your way out. Leaving it exactly how you found it.

You climbed the stairs to where your floor was since she lived just a few doors away from you. She moved into the dead guy's apartment; you thought it was dumb. Why would you live in a place where someone just recently died? That's bad luck because now she was going to die because of you.

Once again, you lock picked the door to her apartment and looked around to make sure no one had seen you. You knew Leon just came back from work, so you needed to be quick as to not let him see you like this.

You entered her apartment swiftly and silently, closing the door behind you with a soft click. The apartment was dark and silent, except for the soft snores coming from just down the hall. Where her room was.

Your footsteps were soft and quiet as you made your way towards her. And there she was, sleeping peacefully on her stomach. All sprawled out on her bed as her hair covered her face.

Quietly making your way towards her bed, you kneeled down beside her and took out a small liquid bottle.

Potassium chloride (KCI), it read.

You didn't know a thing about chemicals and what they do, but to be honest, you didn't care. All you knew was that this stuff could be lethal. And that's exactly what you wanted.

Taking out a syringe from your pocket, you punctured the top of the bottle and pumped some of the liquid into the tube of the syringe, making sure it went past the middle line imprinted on the plastic container.

For once, you were glad to have access to the labs in the STEM building. The things you could do... but that was a thought for another time. Right now, you had a job to do.

Finding a vein on her neck was easier than you thought, based on the way she was sleeping, her neck tensed, and a vein was popping out of the side of her neck. The blue line traveling down her skin.

As you aligned the needle on her vein, you pushed without remorse. The needle penetrated her skin as you injected her with the dose of KCI. You watched in awe as the liquid entered her system. A dose enough it would cause cardiac arrest, instant death even.

You decided to leave her bed as she slowly succumbed to her death. You stuffed your materials back in your pockets as you stood up. What you failed to notice was the pair of footsteps nearing the bedroom. As you turned towards the door, you immediately noticed the figure lingering in the doorframe.

Leon.

Leon watched you kill that woman. He saw it all happen right before his eyes. But his expression was still cold and unreadable. He stepped towards you and stood in front of you, staring down at you.

'Hm," he spoke quietly, "well, this isn't something I was expecting," he muttered.

You didn't know what to say as you stared up at him. He knows what you just did but you don't feel regret.

After a short moment of silence, he spoke again, "I was going to kill her."

Your eyes widened at the confession; he was going to kill her?

"Why?" you asked quietly. The ends of his lips tugged into a faint smirk as he watched your expression, "Because she was annoying you."

You were stunned once again. He was going to kill her because he knew she had annoyed you? He really was the perfect man.

"Now," he stepped closer to you, leaning down until you could his breath on your face, "Why did you kill her?"

It would be embarrassing to tell him that the only reason why you killed the woman was because you were jealous.

As you nibbled on your bottom lip, you tried to come up with an excuse, "Like you said... she was annoying me."

Leon wasn't dumb, he knew you were lying. He brought his hands to brush away your hair away from your shoulders, "Don't lie to me," he muttered as he twirled a strand of hair in between his fingers.

"Fine," you muttered back, "I was... jealous." You felt embarrassment shot right up through your body as you told Leon the truth.

His smirk widened slightly as he let go of your hair, "You were jealous? Why? Because she was all up at me?"

You nodded, "Yeah... i didn't like how she tried to flirt with you."

He looked at you and then back at the woman laying on the bed, "I'm impressed."

That comment was sent straight to your core, wetting your panties. It was almost pathetic, how much power he had over you. If you weren't in this woman's room, you'd totally straddle him and ride his cock like how you rode the pillow.

As he turned to look back at you, he noticed your concentrated expression. His brow raised slightly at the sudden profound silence coming from you. But he didn't mind, you were still standing there in front of him and that was enough for Leon's shallow heart.

"Leave," he muttered as he looked at you. This caused you to pinch your brows together. Why would he want you to leave?

"Go back to your apartment, I'll clean the evidence for you."

Your mouth fell apart after he said that. He was willing on cleaning up your mess. But you were sure not to leave a trace behind... not really. You weren't wearing any gloves. You mentally slapped yourself for the small mistake.

"I'll meet you when I'm done," and with that he got to work. He walked around with disinfectant wipes and alcohol as he made sure to clean everything you had touched.

As he did that, you walked out of her apartment and went over to yours. A lot of thought scurried through your mind; thoughts like: why is he helping you?

A part of you felt guilty for killing someone but the other part of you didn’t. The id and the ego. A constant battle between what’s wrong and what’s right.

You did think she deserved it. But at the same time, you and Leon had sex. That must’ve mean something, right? Does he like you? Does he want to have sex again?

A part of being a psychopath that not many people know is that they are one of the most hypersexual people ever to exist. One single thought about him and it gets sent straight to your pussy. It’s not necessarily bad, you just have a lot of needs.

Part of you couldn’t wait for him to finish cleaning up and come to you. But a part of you also didn’t want him to see the amount of pictures you had of him on your wall.

As you walked to your apartment, you settled yourself in your bed, staring straight at the Leon wall.

What would he think of you if he saw this?

Would he be creeped out?

Insecurity ran through your body as you thought about it. Overthinking the possibilities of him reacting to just how obsessed you were with him.

You quickly got up and began to try and take off the photos of him on your wall.

However, just as you pulled a few of the hundred photos, you heard the noise of someone clearing their throat. Your head slowly turned towards the sound and your face fell pale.

It was Leon.

“Are those pictures of me?” He asked as he stepped towards your room. Standing closely next to you as he stared at the wall. His eyes scanned each and every one of the pictures. Almost as if he was impressed more than disrtubed.

But he didn't look disturbed. He had a small smirk on his lips that flipped your guts inside out. What exactly was he thinking?

"Yeah... they are," you murmured under your breath as you looked back at the pictures.

"You keep surprising me today," he muttered and turned his head to look at you with that stupid smirk. The smirk that made you feel so many things at once, "I never took you for... a stalker."

Your cheeks flushed red from embarrassment, and you quickly looked at him, "I-I well-" You didn't know what to say. What could you possibly say without looking even more demented.

"I like it," he whispered and stepped closer to you. His expression still remained distant but there was something in his eyes. A dangerous glint of possession.

You turned your body to look at him, staring up at his eyes. Something was starting to form in the air, and it was dangerous. As if gasoline was being poured into a barrel of fire.

Without notice, he harshly pulled you to him by putting a hand on the back of your head. His lips crashed into yours as his other hand snaked around your waist and he forcefully pulled you close to his body.

His kiss was dominating and harsh. As if he was hungry for you. Your hands gripped around his shirt. Your knees felt weak, and you started to grow dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

He was kissing you like no tomorrow. He bit your bottom lip hard, causing you to gasp. His tongue delved inside and wrapped around your tongue- dancing a battle of dominance that you lost long ago.

His hand went down from your waist to grip your ass cheek, giving it a tight and firm squeeze. He pulled back and pushed onto the bed.

"Strip," he demanded in a low voice. You quickly obliged and began to take off your clothes. His gaze was penetrating you, watching you like an eagle as you got naked under his command. It filled his veins with pure adrenaline, and he wanted nothing more than to claim you.

He saw that you were obsessed with him, and he was finally able to show you just how obsessed he was with you too.

He took off his clothes as well and climbed on top of you and began to kiss you again. His lips hungrily crashed into yours as his hands traveled around your body, squeezing the fat of your hips and squeezing the curve of your waist.

His lips trailed down to your neck, abusing the skin purple and red as you whimpered and moaned for him. His touch was electrifying, and you were going off on it. One of his hands trailed down to your wet cunt as he kept sucking your neck. He chuckled lowly as he felt how wet you'd become in just the matter of two minutes.

"Already so wet for me," he sucked the skin around your collarbone as his fingers faintly hovered over your cunt.

"I bet you imagined this moment, huh? Me fucking you in front of all these pictures you took of me," he grumbled as he inserted his index finger without warning, causing you to gasp and rolled your head back. Eye tightly shut as he curled his index finger in you.

He was going ruthless on you. He inserted another finger in you, scissoring you with speed as he watched your eyes roll back. Your walls pulsated around his fingers, and he could feel his cock getting hard against your thigh. He could feel you getting closer to your orgasm and that only drove him to reach deeper inside with his fingers until his knuckles were buried deep.

He smirked as he saw the way you arched your back and moaned for him. His obsession for you only grew as he heard the lewd noises come from your mouth. Your chest heaved up and down as you tried to not be too loud for your neighbors to send a noise complaint.

But he abruptly pulled his fingers out of you, denying you of your release. You whined and looked at him through half-lidded eyes, "Why... why did you stop?" you breathed out. And all he did was chuckle lowly at your reaction.

He was cruel but he loved it. He loved driving you close to the edge and then pull you back into reality.

“Turn over,” was all that he said. You got on your stomach and he gripped his hands around your hips and lifted your ass a little higher.

His hands went around your ass and back before giving you a slap on your ass cheek, causing you yelp. It stung but it felt good.

One of his hands left your hips as he pumped his cock with his precum and aligned himself with your entrance.

He buried his cock deep into your cunt, gripping your waist as he pulled you closer to him, forcing you to take his size. You whimpered as you shut your eyes tightly. He slowly began to move his hips against you from behind, trying to find a rhythm that would be pleasurable for the two of you.

Your face was planted flat on a pillow as he fucked you. Your mouth was open, muffled moans echoing through the room. The sound of his balls smacking against your clit making this look and sound so pornographic.

He could feel your walls tighten every time his balls clashed your clit, “You’re so fucking tight,” he grunted. You couldn’t reply, too preoccupied getting your brains fucked out by him.

His speed only increased as he became selfish and obsessive. He wanted to claim you, to make you his. It was psychotic but he needed it. He desperately needed you in his life, even if he’s fucked up in the head.

But you’re also a bit screwed up. What type of person stalks a man and kills for him? You, apparently.

You both have killed for each other. You both were obsessed with each other. One wouldn’t know if it was concerning or cute. Either way, you loved him and he loved you.

“I’m gonna breed you,” he grunted again as he pulled out and pushed back in brutally. His strength like no other, his muscles flexing and tensing.

His dirty words didn’t help either, they were driving you closer and closer to your orgasm. Your pussy clenched so tightly against his cock, wanting to milk him of his seed and force you to bear his children.

“Gonna fill you up- fuck- and make you mine,” he moaned softly in your ear as his hand left your waist and went down to your clit. Circling it and pinching it in between his fingers.

You mewled and moaned, drool dripping down from your mouth as you saw stars. He made you feel so good and you only wanted more.

His cock disappeared into your cunt with every thrust and he ogled at the sight. He loved the way you took him, he loved the way you looked so fucked out of your mind all because of him.

He made you feel this way. And he wanted more.

“You’re staying with me,” he groaned into your ear, “You’ll be mine whether you like it or not- fuck I’m gonna cum,” he grunted and kept thrusting into you. He kept pounding into you.

Every time he thrusted into you, he saw the way your ass jiggled and it only made his cock twitch and throb inside you. He shot his cum deep inside you but he didn’t stop.

He continued to toy with your clit as he kept pounding his half hard cock- which soon got hard again from seeing your face and hearing the way you moaned when he came inside you.

“Leon,” you moaned out lewdly as you neared your orgasm. It surprised you he came first but you didn’t complain, it only drove you closer to cumming.

“Cum for me,” he demanded in a growl. Your pussy spasmed around his cock and you came on his cock.

You arched your back as you came, feeling his deeper into your cunt as he continued to fuck you through your high.

And. He. Didn’t. Stop.

He wanted to cum in you again, he promised he’d fill you up and he never breaks his promises.

“Gonna cum again, sweetheart,” he moaned into your ear as his hand left your clit and went back to your waist.

“This pussy’s mine,” he grunted as he gripped your waist and pulled you on his cock, watching as your mouth hanged open, spilling moans and whimpers from overstimulation.

“You’re fucking mine, sweetheart,” he grunted one last time before ramming his hips into you and cumming inside you once more. His warm cum overfilling your cunt, cum oozing out as new cum entered your body.

He remained inside you as you both caught your breath. He couldn’t believe he’d cum twice but then again, you really did keep surprising him today.

And that’s what he liked about you. You were so unexpected and that only drove him crazy for you.

And you were crazy for him too.

[dandysworld-meh-imagines]

howdy love your stuff I was wondering if you could do a romantic twisted vee x a reader that is slowly starting to become a twisted themselves.

Twisted Vee With A Reader Who Is Slowly Becoming A Twisted Themselves!

Twisted Vee has made my double main floors HELL LMFAOOO (still love her sm) here you go, anon, I really liked this idea! Thank you for requesting! <3

-Anna

-Losing Vee was devastating and you remember how much you cried at everyone else who agreed to keep Vee out of the elevator when she was starting to REALLY glitch and break down. Being one of the slowest in the team would get you hit but Vee was smart enough to avoid every single twisted she came across and you have come to really trust her to take care of herself. Though it seems that one good hit was really all it took for her system to start breaking. It wasn't like any of you knew how to fix it, it used to be the job of the staff that ran this place, after all.

-Vee quietly watched while she tried her best not to glitch, trying to reboot and failing miserably. She returned her screen to her normal one before shooting you a sympathetic gaze and slowly walking away, her head twitching and her antennas glitching, barely being able to walk. Though, you couldn't even see the result as you watched the elevator door close down in front of your crying face, quietly calling out to Vee over and over. Everyone secretly knew it was the best for the team as someone showing very strange behaviors or even being critically injured was a guarantee that they'll be left behind on a floor. It's best for everyone's safety, after all.

-You always liked going to Vee for advice and she would teach you with a smile how to extract faster. Even though she might not know the right words to tell you exactly, you could still learn a lot from her. It helped with not feeling horrible at this entire situation, just expressing quiet smiles at each other and finding comfort in each other's presence. Her encouragement always helped you feel more confident in general and she helped the team a lot with spotting the enemies, pressing on the mic and her antennas twitching. Her not being here with you made you lose so much confidence and you panicked a lot.

-You made more and more mistakes, causing damage to yourself by twisteds who injured you here and there, causing you to bleed ichor. At one point, you had gotten so weak, you couldn't help but lean against some boxes, your vision growing more blurry and it was starting to hurt.. your body hurt, your injuries ached. You saw one of the toons in your team spotting you, taking some steps back while giving you a sad look and walking away, you knew exactly what that look meant and you suddenly felt your chest hurt. They were leaving you behind and there was nothing you could do about it.

-Your eyes couldn't keep open and you soon fell unconscious, the last thing you could hear were these loud footsteps before they stopped in front of you and you felt yourself being picked up. You slowly opened your eyes and you saw Vee.. or rather.. Twisted Vee. Her body had really really changed, she was way taller, her face was different and more aggressive, her body was split in half with ichor dripping from it and more. She seemed a bit startled when you opened your eyes before her screen was loading, scanning you for a while before her expression softened a little bit. If you looked down at your body, you could see your wounds were patched. It wasn't perfect but it seemed to stop the bleeding. Your eyes gazed towards Vee as she tilted her head at you a little. You also seemed to be laying on something soft.

-She placed her hands next to you into the couch as her head hovered above you, more analyzing as she scanned your body though it seemed to fail when she tried scanning your face, showing a concerned face as she got closer to you. She watched as your weak hand tried to touch the side of her screen, happy to at least be reunited with her, even if she was like this. It was still the same Vee you knew, just she couldn't really speak. She grabbed your hand before pressing it against the couch as a big X appeared on her screen, she seemed to be telling you to rest instead as she showed a more firm but concerned face. Vee is your girlfriend so you knew how to read the faces she makes and what they meant, as she wasn't always good with words.

-You watched as she looked away from you before starting to pace around in front of you, looking at the ground as she placed her hands at her head, her screen flickering a bit as she kept running searches and searches or absolutely anything as you kept hearing "Beep-Beep" sound from her as her screen kept turning into a big X. Your eyes hurt but you still took the effort to look at her for longer than usual. Vee felt your gaze and looked back at you, this time with a more panicked face than before and she came towards you, trying to hold your face as gently as she could and looked into your eyes, her face slowly glitching and becoming a scared one. You couldn't understand what she was so worried about but your eyes were starting to hurt more, your vision appearing more blurry than before.

-"Vee.. love.. what's wrong?" Oh, you should have seen how her face dropped when she heard your weak voice, screen glitching a bit as she looked away, not knowing what to do or how to show you what was wrong. She wished she could just tell you but the part of her that let her speak was broken now, making her speechless. She thought for a little bit before she showed a mini version of you with your patched injuries on her screen but your eyes were red. Her screen turned back to normal as she watched you look at her shocked. You knew now finally, you were becoming a twisted and it wouldn't be long before you joined them too. Even if your wounds were patched, they still ached and you felt yourself weak and shaky, not to mention your eyes hurting and you couldn't see well.

-Vee looked visibly stressed as she continued to search for a solution, something to help you, anything. But the X kept appearing on her screen. She knew many many other things but not how to fix this.. how to fix you. She was twitching as she kept going, desperate for something at least but your hand on her own was what stopped her as she immediately looked at you. She watched as you slowly leaned your face up at her and she did the same as she rested her other robotic hand on top of your own. You kissed the part where her mouth is supposed to be and she leaned forward, mimicking a kiss as she closed her eyes, when you leaned back, she had a soft but defeated look on her face, as she could only watch you get worse and worse. Before she loses you forever to ichor, she made her face have a big heart to show you she loves you before showing you a smile, though her eyes showed just how much this hurt her. She really wanted you to make it far, her beloved one.

-When you closed your eyes and your symptoms became worse, Vee shook before picking you up and hugging you close to her. She knew it wasn't comfortable.. but what could she do, really? She just held you close and looked on whatever she could. You couldn't see it but she had an angry expression. Vee was blaming herself for this, if she just happened to be faster and better.. this wouldn't have happened at all. She looked down at your injuries as she saw that they bled through the patchs.. the ichor was becoming worse and it would stick towards your parts now. Who knows? The next thing she could see is you pushing her away as your mind got fully corrupted too. But until then, she sat like this with you, holding you close and closing her eyes, eventually shutting down so she won't see you push her away and not recognize her. Maybe she would get you to recognize her again but for now, she just wanted to save your last moments with her until the very end.

Thank you for reading! <3

[mangocurist]

thinking more about s6 end and how it truly wouldnt have happened if it had been anyone else but zam setting the server in motion with her oath of pacifism.

she really was the perfect person for it, not only because of her natural determination and unwillingness to give up but also because of lifesteals natural little ecosystem of chungi versus good players- in that system, zam is realistically somewhere in the better players. shes better than a lot of people give her credit for, being smart enough to be the second of only 2 people to ever kill flame as well as matching mapicc head on and almost beating him despite him being considered much stronger than her, as well as surviving 5v1 and 6v2 impossible situations for much longer than other players could in her situation. and yet she consistently lowers herself and her skill level to do things inconsistent with her relative pvp skill. she keeps building mats in her echest instead of filling it all with battle material. she loves spawn and spends basically every stream returning to it at least once. shes constantly building and repairing it and has a shulker filled with dirt just for it, and though s6 has shown the bulk of this sort of disconnect zam has with other players of her own skill level, its always been evident. had it been another chungus or lower skilled player who had taken the oath of pacifism- just how long could they have lasted? they wouldve ended up farmed for hearts or staying away from spawn, or otherwise living only off the kindness of higher skilled players. what if it was another higher skilled player? none of the current 'skilled' ls players are like zam in that they dont like taking risks or changing their roleplay style. the battle, the thrill of stealing and killing and looting, is where their skill lies, and changing that to play a role that will almost certainly result in their downfall on a server like lifesteal is borderline unthinkable for almost every player. even if they had, what was the chance they would stick to it, in the end?

thats why zam is such a compelling character, such a compelling actor and streamer, and yet, so hard for her peers to understand her. its because shes willing to throw her skills away and play a role she knows she can lose in. she allows herself to be human, a player instead of an ideal. unlike other lstealers, who stick to what theyve always known, elevating themselves with the knowledge of their kills, zam takes every chance she gets to take a different route and let her choices change her; and through her passion and determination, others followed her. if it had been anyone else, this ending wouldnt have hit as hard as it did.

but because it was princezam, the one who had always done what was best for the server, the one who had stuck to her goals all season and allowed herself to be cracked open and destroyed from the inside out, this seasons ending truly felt whole and deserved. after everything thats happened to her all of lifesteal, this ending was her happy ending.

[theside-b]

BL Review: Top Form 🇹🇭

Weirdly enough it was exactly when Japan left the BL scene that Thailand decided to finally to come through with a solid adaptation of a japanese property. After some stumbles Top Form not only delivers a great show but also elevates the source material with some inspired choices from the writers and amazing duo of actors.

Boom has always been a very reliable actor, competent and talented, but here he gets to show everything he got, use all the weapons on his arsenal; Akin is a mess of a human being, always on the verge of a mental breakdown, but also "unintentionally" funny, needy and amorous when finally stripped from his emotional barriers — part of the fun was watching Boom freak out, burst into tears or blush like a maiden (sometimes all at once) during the live reactions with Smart. Speaking of which... Smart as Jin, the apprentice with a mean streak, and hands down the best twist of the show.

In Dakaichi: I'm Being Harassed by the Sexiest Man of the Year the manga which Top Form is based on, the character of Jin is quite different, with the predatory nature of the original being toned down and the entire dynamic between the couple presented in a way healthier package with a shift towards a more 'protective' persona for Jin; and while the show waters down quite a lot it still gives room for Smart to deliver great moments tapping into Jin's darker side, possessiveness and violence always brewing when someone dares to come near Akin. The major downside here is with the character of Johnny, now presented as the only predator around, albeit in a more "playful" manner, whereas in the original him and Jin were cut from the same cloth and one could see why they would immediately butt-heads, so much so that this version has to make it's way around certain story beats in order to cause drama that does not occur in the manga. A lot of the rejection for Johnny's characters amongst the audience stems from the fact that Jin is a very good person here, had he been 2/4 of the messed up version we see in the book this conversation would be quite different.

A good point of the adaptation is the nature of the conflict: in a way the first half of the story is intrinsic to Japan, with the actors ranking system and all its variants, something that doesn't play out (at least not to the same extent) in Thailand, but the second half presents the brand pair system in which the situation reverses. Top Form sheds light in some intricacies that the target audience might already be clued in, for example actors playing a couple on a BL show are expected to play a couple but not actually be a couple, with Top Form being one of the very few to dare head towards more unsavory practices seeing in the industry— it's even more inspired that the show within the show that gets Jin and Akin under scrutiny is a wuxia very similar to the unreleased C-Drama Immortality, which was a partnership between Tencent and Top Form's very own producer WeTV — and while it never goes there it still ballsy enough to not make it all that easy for it's protagonists.

A lot of the strengths of the show are pulled from the parallels that can be drawn with actors' real life relationship, for those who follow him Boom is one of those thai actors who just never had the luck of finding the right partner (or simply never chose one) to solidify his position on the thai-BL landscape and here he seems to have struck gold with Smart, so much so that even before the show was done producers were already throwing ideas for a next project for the two of them. As for Smart he got himself a mentor, and one of the best really, and while Smart himself is still a long ways to catch up with his partner at least he does not embarrass himself mostly due inspired moments, like every time Jin got mischief in his eyes, or was ready to throw hands, any of the more 'darker' sides of his came out to play Smart seemed more in tune, angel wings notwithstanding.

Technically speaking this show has impressive feats; the NC scenes in particular were quite something, and it's raised the bar for the upcoming productions and I'm not limiting to just BL shows, what they did here to safeguard the actors was impeccable while still delivering memorable moments. Production value is also top notch, even simpler scenes looked expensive through the lenses of director Boss Wasakorn.

In the void left by JBLs Top Form comes strong with a superb ensemble, inspired writing and woefully direction that sets the bar really high for the next thai producer who is brave enough to tackle a japanese IP.

[timmydraker]

How I think each character would react to Tim not taking care of himself:

Dick:

As the most Older Sister coded character I’ve ever heard of, I think he’d struggle to not immediately try and take everything on for his brother. He’d want to lessen his work load and have a long talk with him about being responsible for his wellbeing but would also be scared to overstep and cause any kind of rift.

Eventually I think he’d settle on asking Tim to just take a shower and eat something. He’d start small, not making it as an order because he doesn’t want to be a douch, but firm enough that Tim can pick up his concern.

Dick is 100% the type to check on him several times and make sure he’s hydrated and well rested, especially after a bad night, to the point that it might be a little overbearing.

He’d probably also make sure Bruce would respond as best her could when the man seems hellbent of being allergic to emotion.

Jason:

Now, while I don’t think Jason is as emotionally unstable as a lot of people think he is due to the pit, I do think he’s awkward as hell when it comes to Robins. Everyone knows he loves kids and is basically a guardian of all children in Gotham, but his fear of his fate becoming theirs probably gets to him.

So when he sees Tim fixating on a case that’s either cold or old enough to not be relevant, he quickly realises that the boy is also it as obsessive as Bruce is with the Joker, just more brood with his obsession being all crime.

Jason sees his once unyielding desire to help people like him in a (mostly) spoilt rich kid and feels those good old heart strings yank.

Unlike Dick, he’s not as worried about coming off as an asshole and quickly becomes determined to get Tim into a comfortable bed with a good book that won’t drive him mad looking for clues. He uses his strength against the younger lad and gets Alfred to help him convince Tim to eat some proper protein food.

When Tim mumbles a tired ‘thank you’ to Jason, his instinct is to say no problem before running off to hide away from his family so he doesn’t have to confront that maybe the poor kid who had to take after him is better than he ever was.

Damian:

Growing up with assassins leaves Damian with as many emotional troubles as his father, but luckily for the youngest active Robin, he has good around him now.

When he notices Tim has been in the same spot at the Batcomputer since he saw him that morning, he just assumes that he’s doing important Red Robin work. It’s only after he looks at the screen and sees that Tim is actually going over how the sewer system all the way in Metropolis is going that he scoffs and begins to drag Tim’s chair over to the elevator.

Tim by this point would be used to his brother doing this as his odd way of showing care.

He learns to relent quickly because Damian will make good on his threat to get Alfred or Bruce and tell on him for his lack of self care.

Damian doesn’t talk to his brother, never knowing what to say, but he is a smart kid who’s more observant that people give him credit for. So, he will put Tim in front of his room and shove him inside before standing In front of the door until Tim goes to shower.

Then it’s just a matter of asking Pennyworth for some food and leaving it on Tim’s bed along with Alfred the Cat (who is far better physical comfort than he is) and then promptly deny he ever did anything outside of making sure Red Robin was fit for combat.

If he sometimes makes Tim herbal tea without any help, that’s no one’s business.

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

How About It, Agent Miller? | Lenny Miller x fem!reader

Summary: The year is 1988. The Cold War is well underway and tensions are slowly rising between the US and the Soviets. CIA Agent Miller isn’t threatened by the new young agent from the Soviet Union but she has a plan to get his attention, and to get even.

Warnings: Misogyny, violence, gun, kidnapping, restraints, dubious consent, noncon, smut, unprotected sex, edging, drugging.

word count: 4661k

Sympathy for the Devil- The Rolling Stones 🎶

Devils Haircut- Beck 🎵

You Know I’m No Good- Amy Winehouse 🎶

Movie: Anna (2019)

Please read warnings before continuing, thanks!

He thought this job was going to be simple, almost easy. She was working for East Germany, young, and new to her position; surely she wouldn’t be that difficult to eliminate. He’d been working for the CIA for nearly fifteen years at that point. He was one of the top agents and had orchestrated the downfall of many notable German and Soviet spies. To be fair, there had been that minor detail of receiving several severed heads from the KGB back in 1985 but that was all behind him now. They didn’t scare him now, and certainly, that twenty-something agent he’d heard so much about wasn’t about to make him lose sleep. In fact, he was looking forward to meeting her.

The girl in question was twenty-two and one of the deadliest spies to ever work for East Germany (the communist side). Y/N Y/L/N managed to slip past the CIA on multiple occasions, stealing out the backdoor or using false passports to get out of the country undetected. She’d made one mistake, however, and Agent Miller was quick to catch it. He rued the way she’d avoided detection for so long when it felt like it was all due simply to good luck. She didn’t seem especially smart or conniving, just pretty. It pissed him off. The mistake that Y/N had made was small, easy to look over, but Agent Miller was looking, and he found it.

Y/N tricked men around her to get information on the US. Once she’d get them alone, she drugged them, shot them, etc; anything to get them out of her way while she downloaded classified files from their computers. She had managed to steal these files before without leaving traces of her crime but low and behold, the last time she had removed the flash drive without ejecting it from the computer’s system. The computer held onto the flash drive's information and told Agent Miller exactly what the young woman was planning next. She’d been collecting information on nuclear weapons and international trade deals that the US was trying to keep hush hush. And for that reason, Agent Miller knew who she was going after next.

He straightened his striped blue tie and cleared his throat as he and his team crowded into the elevator. The men behind him carried larger guns and thick bulletproof vests, ready for whatever the girl threw at them. They’d followed her into a hotel in New York City, a place that felt too normal for the situation at hand. When the elevator doors opened with a soft whooshing noise, Agent Miller nodded his agents on, directing them to either side of the corridor. Quickly, they raided the hotel room belonging to the man they believed she had gone after that evening, but did not find her there. She was nowhere in the hotel. Agent Miller cursed beneath his breath and gritted his teeth. He knew his impatience was his worst quality and it only hurt him in these situations, but then again, the American government isn’t known for being very patient with communists…

Clenching and relaxing his jaw, Agent Miller went back down in the elevator with his men. They separated into groups in the lobby, each climbing back into the armored car sent by the CIA. Agent Miller waited behind, his cold eyes trained on the curb in front of the hotel. His car was separate from the others and would take him directly back to his office. A sharp wind ruffled his dark brown hair, displacing one strand into his face as his car pulled up to the curb. Agent Miller climbed into the dark backseat, the car door slamming closed beside him and a lock clicking into place. He looked up. The barrel of a pistol was pointed at his forehead. He froze.

“Hello, Agent Miller. Wie geht es Ihnen? I’m so glad we finally got a moment alone. I apologize for the circumstances but you know how the politics are these days… it’s so… toxic. Ja? Now, be a good boy and hand me the glock you have at your hip,” a young woman smiled on the seat beside him. She was wearing all black and blended in against the dark leather seats and tinted windows. Agent Miller frowned, his hands unmoving.

“That doesn’t seem fair, does it? You’re putting me at a disadvantage here.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself like that, Agent Miller. You and I both know what you’re capable of,” she chuckled mockingly but her sunglasses hid her true meaning. “Give me your gun, now.” Her voice was hard and cool like a porcelain plate, one of the perfect edges with a chip. Agent Miller raised his hand slowly and moved his jacket to the side, showing his holster. As soon as she had his gun in her hand she tapped the glass partition between them and the driver, signaling him to drive.

“Where are we going?” Agent Miller sighed calmly, leaning back against the seat. Y/N smiled, pleased at his temperament. It made things easier.

“One of my favorite places in New York City,” she answered with a smirk, a gun still trained at the man beside her though it had been lowered.

“And what kind of place could that be, god forbid?” Agent Miller asked rhetorically and looked over at the window beside him.

“The Plaza Hotel,” she answered slowly and shifted in her seat. Her pleated leather skirt shifted across her black stockings, showing more of her thigh, fleshy and round. Agent Miller noticed it and smirked, the comedy of the situation being too much for him to take seriously. The car stopped at the back of the hotel by the service entrance. Men exited out of the building and held a door open, waiting as Y/N escorted the CIA agent inside. Agent Miller followed her calmly as he searched for someone who could help him.

“No one’s here. It’s off-season,” she sighed lightly and pushed him into an elevator.

“It’s never off-season in New York,” Agent Miller raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Surprise, surprise.”

They took the elevator up to the top floor. Agent Miller’s hands began to sweat as he was led out of the elevator and around the corridor to a suite, separated from the others.

“You must get a good salary,” Agent Miller cracked as the woman jerked the gun towards the door of the suite. He kept his hands visible as he entered the room and looked around. The room was large and was actually made up of multiple rooms. In the center of the living room area, a chair had been left out.

“Sit down and make yourself comfortable. Bitte.” She had a way of talking that sounded like a purr but it was clear to Agent Miller that her words were more threatening than they sounded. Still, it was hard to take her seriously. It was hard to believe that this woman was the deadliest spy in East Germany.

“Danke schön,” Agent Miller muttered, his American accent muddling the German.

"Kannst du Deutsch sprechen, Herr Miller?” Y/N pretended to sound surprised as she closed and bolted the lock. “I’m flattered, really,” she smiled and removed her long black coat. Slowly she placed the coat on a couch’s arm and pulled off the blonde wig on her head, revealing her dark hair beneath which fell into a messy bob around her shoulders, over her dark mauve blouse. Last she removed her sunglasses and folded them neatly on her coat. Then she met his eyes.

“Nein? Well, then it's good I’m so fluent in English. You would never tell by my accent. At least, you didn’t the last time we met.”

“We’ve met before?” Agent Miller asked and shifted in his chair.

“Oh yes.” She smiled and dimples deepened on her cheeks.

An image came back to him, one of a young woman dropping a stack of manuscripts in the lobby of a hotel where they had been investigating the last crime scene. She’d been wearing a long brown wig and tortoiseshell glasses. She even had brown contacts in her eyes to hide her true eye color. He’d stopped to help her collect the manuscripts.

Oh gosh, thank you so much. So sorry about that. My boss is going to kill me. Thank you! She’d blushed as he handed her the papers. He’d met her before. She’d shown herself to him just to play with him. He scowled.

“Now I feel even more at a disadvantage.”

“How? After all, you’re the big-shot CIA agent, due for a promotion any day now… and I’m just a little girl. I don’t need any real smarts, not when I can just use my good looks to get what I want. Right, Agent Miller?” Her voice darkened as she finished, flashing with resentment. “You could fight me right now. It’s just the two of us. I’m surprised you didn’t. You’ve had ample opportunities to but you blindly follow my orders. It’s not that you’re scared to hurt me, you aren’t that sexist.”

“I don’t see the point of fighting when you’ve put so much work into getting me alone. I assume you have something to say.” Agent Miller swallowed, his cool facade slipping slightly as the woman approached him slowly.

“Aw how chivalrous of you! Oh, but what if I told you that I was only interested in getting you alone so that I could finally get even with you.” Y/N twirled the gun around her pointer finger and shifted it to his chest. He stiffened.

“Get even?”

“Settle the score,” she offered with a shrug.

“I don’t think I follow,” Agent Miller frowned warily.

“Then let me explain,” Y/N purred and with quick movements, she removed a pair of handcuffs from the back of her skirt and closed them tightly around both of his wrists, tying his hands around the back of the heavy chair. His eyes widened slightly when he realized what she had done.

“The fuck…” he started but she cut him off quickly.

“You didn’t think I could outsmart you or get the upper hand… you thought you could so easily catch me. And what a good job you’ve done!” She crossed her arms across her chest and set the gun down, smiling. Agent Miller averted his gaze, staring at the upper corner of the room. He clenched his jaw and struggled against the handcuffs for a brief moment.

“Haven’t you figured it out yet, Agent Miller?”

“Figured what out?” He snapped impatiently.

“I've been planning this for months. Do you really think I accidentally removed my flashdrive wrong, coincidentally leaving you all of the information that i’ve gathered since starting my mission? You’ve really underestimated me,” she clucked her tongue and kicked off her high heels, standing barefoot in her pantyhose on the dark pink shag carpet.

“I knew you’d find the mistake, I wanted you to. You did everything you were supposed to do, good boy,” she carded her fingers through his dark hair. The soft warm lighting in the room brought out the freckles across his pale face. Just as he started to turn his eyes to hers, she yanked his hair back so that he was looking up at her. “But how did this special agent who graduated from MIT of all places, end up in this position?”

“Did you do all of this just to show me how smart you are?” Agent Miller growled as she continued to pull at his roots.

“Something like that,” she smiled again, “I get off when men think they’re smarter than I am. I like proving them wrong… and then killing them.”

“Is that your plan for tonight?” He tried to keep a level voice as the smell of her perfume wafted down to his nose. She shook her head slightly and chuckled.

“You’ve been trained to resist torture, so there won’t be much that I can get out of you that way. And anyway, there isn’t much that I don’t already know.” She released her grip on his hair and stepped back. Y/N moved to the bar cart, stocked with crystal jars of whiskey and bourbon.

“So what are you going to do to me?” Agent Miller raised an eyebrow as he watched her pour a small glass of whiskey. She turned slowly and approached him again, swirling the whiskey in her glass. She raised the glass to his lips and poured it gently into his mouth. He parted his lips for her, his eyes trained on her face.

“Whatever I want,” she whispered and pulled the glass from his lips. Agent Miller raised his eyebrow, swallowing.

“Won’t your government disapprove?” He scoffed and shifted in the seat, calming himself down. His body was starting to get hot and his collar got tighter.

“Shhh,” she shushed him, a finger pressed against her own lips. Y/N approached him again and trailed one manicured finger from his arm to his hand. He shivered beneath her touch and his heart began to race. He felt his pulse in his stomach as she carded her fingers through his hair again, softer this time. She placed one knee on the chair between his thighs, pressing against his crotch. She tipped his head back with the edge of her nail beneath his jaw and leaned in close, exhaling beside his jaw. Seeing an opportunity, Agent Miller tried to kick her, jutting his knee up because it wasn’t restrained. She stopped him quickly, forcing him back into the chair, not missing a beat. His breath caught in his throat and he nearly choked on it. Her hand wrapped around his throat and squeezed but not harshly. His skin was warm beneath her hand and she smiled, her white teeth flashing.

She pressed her knee sharply into his thigh, holding his leg down, and slid it closer to the top of his crotch. She chuckled softly when she felt the outline of his cock inside his pants with the side of her thigh. Agent Miller’s body tensed below her, his hands folding into fists as he exhaled sharply.

“Aw does this hurt?” She cooed as she dug her knee further into the flesh of his thigh. His jaw tightened as she teased him. Moving closer, she rested both knees between his thighs, forcing them against the arms and pinning them in place. Suddenly she was so close and her thighs were pressing against his stomach…

How was it that he was getting an erection from this shit-show? How could she get this reaction out of him so fucking quickly? He tried to even out his breath as she shifted in the seat, her hands trailing up his chest to the knot of his tie.

“What did you drug me with?” Agent Miller muttered. Strands of her hair brushed against his cheeks.

“You don’t have to resist it, Agent Miller.” She ran her hands down his sides beneath his dark blue suit jacket. His body was full and firm, and warm. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she whispered against his forehead.

“What did you put in my drink…” he repeated, his voice wavering in strength as her hand moved down his stomach to the front of his pants. His erection was pronounced and visible, pushing against the fly of his trousers. She must have given him something, something to get this response. He wasn’t even that turned on. He sighed, frustrated and mad. He turned his head to the side, avoiding her soft lips.

“You think I have to drug you to get this kind of response? Silly boy,” she slid off of his lap and sat on the edge of the couch in front of him. She crossed her legs at first and allowed her eyes to trail up his body like a man would to a woman. Agent Miller stared back, his blue eyes hard. She giggled and reached up her skirt, hooking her hands under her pantyhose and pulled it down her thighs. She rolled the pantyhose slowly down her calves and slipped it off her feet. Despite his best efforts, Agent Miller watched her closely, studying the way she pushed the pantyhose to the side with her foot.

“I prefer genuine responses, it helps with my ego,” she broke the silence and watched with a sly smile as Agent Miller swallowed. With a sigh she stood and leaned over the CIA agent, her hands gripped around the arm rests. “Are you embarrassed? The high and mighty CIA agent succumbing so quickly to someone like me?” She teased him sharply, a glint of malice behind her bright eyes. “Tell me, Agent Miller. You’re thinking about me… you want me to touch you more. You want to see what I could do to you.”

Agent Miller cocked his head slightly and sighed, pretending to be disinterested. Y/N grabbed his face, her fingers digging into either side of his jaw. When she kissed him, he exhaled, almost relieved. He kissed her back, forgetting himself and liking the way she tasted, the way her lips felt in his mouth. She pulled his face closer to hers, still hovering above him. She kissed him feverishly and he followed blindly, distracted by the pleasure found in each movement her lips made against his. Then as quickly as it had started, she pulled away and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Some of her lipstick was smudged across his mouth but he couldn’t tell. He was breathing heavily, his lips pulled apart so that he could catch his breath. She took a few steps back and grabbed a file from a nearby table. She flipped it open and turned the pages until she landed on the right one. She held the folder open in one hand and with the other she began to unbutton her blouse from the top down.

Agent Miller felt his cock throb as he watched her shrug off the silky blouse and drape it over the arm of the couch. When she turned he could see her black t-shirt bra fitted perfectly against her breasts. Her collarbones rose and fell as she breathed and Agent Miller nearly groaned. She read aloud from the file as she moved back to the chair.

“My records tell me that the last number of confirmed nuclear weapons in the American arsenal was 27,000. It’s been half a decade since that information was released to the Soviet Union. What is that number now?” She straddled his lap slowly, smoothing out her skirt over their legs. Agent Miller moved his eyes from her breasts to her face, trying to keep his face straight as he felt the woman’s hand unbuckle his belt.

“I can’t tell you that,” he managed as she played with the zipper of his fly, her fingers dancing over the hard bulge.

“Has the number grown?” She offered and slid her hand below his waistband. Her hand grazed the patch of his pubic hair before she reached his cock. He shivered and looked up at the ceiling of the hotel room. “More?” She asked softly as she wrapped her fingers around his erection, it was hot and wet in her hand. He was so sensitive already that he groaned softly when she touched him. She squeezed him softly and freed the hard length from his pants. She rubbed her hand up and down. Agent Miller panted softly as she masturbated him. His eyes snapped open and he watched her, their eyes locked.

“Has the number changed?” She asked again softly as the agent clenched his jaw.

“I can’t tell you that,” He fought the words out as her hand sped up.

“Are there less? Has the US been involved in a trade agreement for its nuclear weapons?” She pushed, her hand moving faster.

“Fuck…” Agent Miller panted as her grip tightened around him. His cheeks deepened with color and his chest shook as his climax built. Just as he felt like he was about to cum, Y/N pulled her hand away and clucked her tongue.

“You’re going to make this very hard on yourself,” she observed and smiled as she watched him pant. He was completely erect beneath her skirt, resting against her bare thigh. They stared at each other as he caught his breath. She snapped the folder closed and tossed it to the side, sighing impatiently.

“Who has the US traded with in the past year?” She asked, her hands holding his thighs down.

“That is public information. You don’t need me to tell you that.”

“I want you to tell me about the trade deals you haven’t made public,” she loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons. “Which countries have illegal trade agreements with the US?” She added before kissing his neck, sucking on the soft flesh until she started to make hickeys. With her freehand she held his cock still as she lowered herself onto his head. She moved her hips slowly up and down and pulled away to look at his face. His adam's apple quivered in his throat as she moved on top of him.

“I-I can’t-fuck,” he gasped softly as she started to shift her hips over his lap, taking him deeper, “I can’t tell you that.”

“Come on, Agent Miller,” she whispered against his ear, “be a good boy for me,” she smirked. “Does it feel good? Is this harder than torture?” She teased him as her hips sped up, rocking back and forth. Agent Miller moaned softly as she held his face to face her. His mouth was agape in pleasure as she began to bounce slightly, falling hard on his cock. He grunted as she went faster, moaning theatrically against his lips which she refused to kiss.

“Do you want to cum, Agent Miller?” She whispered against his lips, her tongue touching his bottom lip with a flourish.

“Fuck…” he panted again.

“Can you cum for me?” She purred and Agent Miller nodded weakly, his eyes now closed. She smiled and pretended to pant, coaxing another deep moan from the man’s throat. “Has the US been sending nuclear weapons to West Germany?” She asked, raising herself up and holding him inside her. He weakly tried to thrust but she held him down.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his brows furrowed in frustration.

She snapped her hips down, taking him in again and hugging his cock. He gasped as his stomach tightened. He was going to cum.

“Has the US been sending nuclear weapons to West Germany?” She repeated sternly, not moving on his cock as the wave of climax started to dissipate again.

“I can’t fucking tell you that-fuck,” he growled when she moved her hips very slowly.

“But you can tell me, Agent Miller, and if you do, I’ll let you cum,” she stroked his cheek and kissed his jaw feverishly. “I want you to cum. Fuck, I want you to cum inside me too.” She whispered against his neck. When he resisted saying anything she pulled herself off and backed away towards the bed in the room beside them. Agent Miller watched her, his chest rising and falling quickly. Still watching him, she slid her leather skirt off, showing that she had no underwear on underneath. He felt like he might explode just by the sight of her.

“Jesus…” he groaned and let his head fall back against the back of the chair. He couldn’t help himself but look back as she undid her bra and dropped it to the floor. Standing completely naked, she laid back on the bed and propped herself up on her elbows.

“If you won’t cum, I’ll just have to finish myself off,” she sighed and trailed her fingers up her thigh to her cunt, wet from sex. “It just never feels as good.” She rubbed her fingers over her clit over and over again until she felt an orgasm grow. She curled her toes and bit her lip, grinding against her own hand. Agent Miller knew that he could look away but the scene was just too much to ignore. He watched as she arched her back and twisted her hips, reacting to the sensitivity of her clit. Her eyes danced below her eyelids as she thought up fantasies to fuel her climax. Rubbing harder, she started to moan softly and quivered. Agent Miller pulled at the handcuffs, struggling to remain calm as he watched her touch herself. As her orgasm finally arrived, she collapsed back onto the mattress and caught her breath.

“Enough,” Agent Miller sneered from the chair, still erect and horny. “At least get me out of these so I can fuck you the right way.”

Y/N smiled and hopped off of the bed, her tits bouncing slightly as she did.

“You want to fuck me, Agent Miller?” She leaned close to his face again. He stared back at her, his jaw set.

“Let’s get it over with,” he answered nonchalantly and she tilted his jaw up but didn’t kiss him. She undid the handcuffs around his wrists and he sprang to his feet, grabbing at her body. He kissed her feverishly, lapping at her mouth with his tongue hungrily. She pushed off his suit jacket and unbuttoned his shirt as he slipped off his shoes and pants. They didn’t have time to remove his shirt before he entered her. He took hold of her hips to pull her closer and wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her close to his chest. She clawed her hands down his dress shirt, her knees high on either side of his waist. She moaned loudly and he studied the way she opened her mouth to do it, mesmerized by the way she reacted to him inside of her.

“Good boy,” she praised him when he sped up, hitting her G-spot. She reached her hand down between their bodies and rubbed at her clit, coaxing a stronger orgasm.

“Don’t touch yourself,” Agent Miller ordered, short of breath, “let me do it.” He massaged her clit himself, his large hands covering the front of her cunt. Her mouth fell open into a loud gasp as he synchronized his thrusts to the way he rubbed her clit.

“Fuck,” he exhaled tightly as he felt her flex around him.

“Keep going,” she wrapped her fingers around his neck and pulled him closer to her face, their mouths exchanging exhales, “fuck me right.”

He kissed her deeply as he moaned, the muscles in his back tightening beneath her nails. She was so tight and wet, he nearly came just thinking about it as he moved. She carded her fingers through his hair and pulled as he chased their peaking climax. He was grunting now as she began to finish around him, shaking without much control. He moved his hands back to her hips and rocked himself deep inside of her as he brought on his orgasm. He came inside of her with loud grunts, thrusting until he’d finished completely. Only when he was done did he pull out and collapse beside her on the elegant duvet. He panted loudly, exhausted. They remained in silence until Y/N rolled over, putting her lips close to his ear.

“You know, I didn’t have to ask you all those questions. I already know the answers.” Her voice was serious and cold, Agent Miller eyed her.

“Then why did you ask?”

“I wanted to see you tied down,” she answered calmly. He raised his eyebrow and scoffed just before the sting of a cold, sterilized needle pinched his neck. Then he quickly went to sleep.

When he awoke, he found himself alone in the hotel room. Everything had been returned to normal and the place scrubbed for fingerprints. And she was gone. She’d gotten away again.

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 5

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,000 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, house fire, perilous situations, angst, hurt/comfort 

Part 5: “Twitterpated”

“Hey there, beautiful,” Dean said.

His voice alone was enough to cause a shiver tingling down your spine.

You couldn’t help but giggle as he once again drew you into a kiss. He held you close by the waist. Feeling his hands spanning your lower back was doing things to you, but you knew you had to keep a level head here.

“Dean,” you said. Your lips curved against his. “We’ve said hello about three times now.”

“Wanna make it four?” he suggested. His voice was deep as sin.

Damn this man, you thought. He was a professional flirt.

But you laughed, and he smirked at the sound. He resisted letting you go when you playfully tried to pull away. The two of you were standing in the middle of your small office, in front of your desk at work. A large bag of takeout was perched on your desk, but neither of you cared about food just yet.

Dean liked the look of you in your navy blouse, tucked into a trim pair of pants, down to your smart heels.

“Tell me you didn’t go up all 20-something flights of stairs in those daggers you got on,” he remarked.

You followed his gaze down to your heels.

“Oh no,” you said. “I’ve got a backup pair of sneakers that I came to work in. Then I slip these on behind my desk. No one’s the wiser.”

Dean enjoyed that playful little smirk you gave him. He still couldn’t believe you’d walked all those stairs, but he guessed he couldn’t begrudge you for your lingering fear of elevators.

“Yeah? What else do you get up to behind that desk? Besides work, that is,” he teased. You guffawed and playfully hit his arm.

He chuckled and finally released you. You’d already dragged a spare chair next to yours behind your desk, so he began helping you unearth the various containers in the bag he brought. All the while, he surreptitiously took an inventory of your office.

It was all very neat and organized, just like you. You had a large window right behind you, which let in some much-needed natural light. There were tile floors, like the rest of the building, but while your desk was an old wood, clunky thing, you had a double monitor setup with an organized file system on either side.

As you pushed things aside and made room for the food, Dean noted the way stray pieces of hair fell from your clip, framing your face. He itched to take that clip out and make that hair wild, maybe even wrapping it around his hand.

Instead, he reached out and tucked a few strands behind your ear. It earned your attention with a soft blush.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothin’,” he grinned. He was treated to one of your shy smiles as you continued in your task.

Soon you and Dean were once again sharing good food and conversation. You explained what you did for work, being a Senior Sales Representative at Savage & Co. He listened, offering interjections here and there: gems like, Josh sounds like a fucking idiot. And, so does your boss. You couldn’t disagree.

In the back of your mind, it was still a bit strange for Dean to be in your office. It felt rather intimate for a second date, but you supposed coming to your place of work wasn’t so new to him.

“You sure are killing that chicken,” Dean remarked, as he watched you carve into a large drumstick with fork and knife. He shot you a teasing smile. “You know it’s already dead, right?”   

You gave him a dry look, despite your amusement. “I’m starving! All I’ve had today is a cup of coffee.” 

He frowned at that. “What, you can’t take a break for an egg McMuffin?”

“Ha!” you cracked, and took a sip of lemonade. “There are no breaks around here.”

Dean hummed, though you could see he didn’t like it.

“You sound like Sam,” he said.

“Oh, your brother?”

“Yeah, Mr. District Attorney,” Dean said in a mocking voice. But his smile betrayed his fondness, and his pride for his younger brother’s accomplishments.

You remembered then that Dean’s father was a police officer as well—a real life homicide detective! You ruminated on that when you and Dean moved on to dessert. You had a scoop of frozen yogurt, while he started to dig into a slice of blueberry pie.

“You know, it’s amazing to me that your entire family went into public service, from all angles,” you said. “It’s impressive…and really noble, actually.”

Dean offered you a quirk of a smile. It told you he wasn’t typically one to be comfortable with praise, as he carded a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, well. It’s a living,” was all he said.

You shook your head with a smile. His humility seemed genuine, and you found it endearing as hell.

“And you’re the eldest, right?” you asked. Dean nodded around a mouthful of pie. He set down the little tray between you for a moment.

“Yeah, though you wouldn’t know it looking at my brother. Around sixteen, he shot up like a damn weed. Friggin’ gigantor.”

You giggled at the image. Now you were truly intrigued, and hoped to meet both Sam and Dean’s father in the future. Though for right now, you glanced down at the slice of pie resting between you, all glossy blueberry filling and flaky crust.

You raised your cup of frozen yogurt to him. “Wanna try a bit of this, so I can try a bit of that?”

You went for a piece of pie with your fork, but Dean snatched the tray out of reach. He eyed you with a bit of admonishment.

“Hey, now. I got you your fake ice cream or whatever,” he said. You rose brow at him, both incredulous and amused.

“What, you won’t share with me?” you asked.

A smile twitched at his lips, but he stayed firm.

“Sweetheart, I’ll get you whatever you want, but here’s where I draw the line.”

You laughed in disbelief. But then an idea made your smile slide into flirtation. You set your dessert aside and rolled your chair closer to his. Dean watched you as your hand slid up his arm, and your pretty eyes met his.

“Okay, what if I make it worth your while?” you posed.

He tilted his head. His hand found the curve of your waist and slid around, bringing you even closer.

“Oh, yeah?” he challenged. “If you really want my pie, that’s gotta be damn worth it.”

Another giggle bubbled in your throat, but you continued to play your part.

“I have a few ideas,” you said. Your fingers drew a path down his chest, over the soft gray Henley he wore. You could feel the warmth of his skin underneath, and the firmness of his body. His grip on your waist tightened a fraction.   

And he smirked. “Tell me…”

Your lips were a whisper from his. He smelled like spicy cologne and blueberries. Two of his fingers came to brush your hair away from your cheek…

But as usual, your boss had the absolute worst timing. The sound of your office door opening was like a gunshot ringing through the room, making you and Dean separate from one another with a jolt.

Nick Savage strode in without knocking, as he was wont to do. (No matter how many times you asked him not to.)

“Hey, what’s your progress on the Greenway account…oh,” said Nick, pausing where he stood.

He took note of Dean in the room and straightened his posture. His expression changed from its lazy gait, to a more tightened one. You swore you could spot a tinge of annoyance as well, like he was surprised that he hadn’t caught you alone in your office.

“I see I’m interrupting,” he said.

Holding in a sigh, you looked over at Dean and found him similarly assessing Nick.

“This is Dean. You might remember him from last week, when the elevator broke down. He’s one of the firefighters who got me out,” you said. Your hand fell on your companion’s arm. “Dean, this is—”

“Her boss,” Nick said. He seemed to lighten up and give Dean a smile, reaching over to shake the man’s hand. Dean obliged him.

“So I’ve heard,” he said. His tone was pleasant enough, but still more reserved.

Nick purposefully shifted his attention back to you.

“Report? Greenway account?” he repeated.

Your lips firmed into a line, though you slipped back into the professional patience you had to maintain at all times with this man.

“I’m still on my break, but I’ll have the report to you by end-of-day,” you said.

Nick tsked at you with a shrug. “How’re you gonna get that account locked down if you’re not trying to conference with Mr. Greenway? He’s headed to China in two hours.”

You had to reign in an annoyed tick in your brow. But you didn’t notice how Dean was watching the exchange between you and your boss with a thinly veiled frown.

“I’ve called three times, Nick. He’ll get back to me.”

“Hmm. I wonder if Josh is taking that same approach,” Nick wondered with mocking sincerity. “I’ll go ask him.”

He finally turned to leave, though he stopped short, giving Dean a lazy salute. “Nice to meet you…”

“Dean,” he reminded. 

“Right.” Nick slid a pointed finger your way. “Greenway. 2:00 p.m.”

You were silently simmering by the time your office door closed behind him. 

“Well, he’s a delight,” Dean remarked.  

“He’s a dick,” you huffed and tossed your napkin down. But you grabbed your desk phone to make a quick call—to Mr. Greenway.

Dean frowned, but he covered it up by wiping his mouth with a napkin, subtly clearing his throat.

“I should head out then, let you get back to work,” he said. 

His words made you pause. You had a reply ready on your tongue, that his suggestion was probably for the best.

But then you actually looked into his eyes. Guilt prickled in your chest as you realized what you were doing. Not only were you letting Nick get under your skin again, but here was a man who’d brought you lunch. Who was willing to sit in an uncomfortable chair to spend some time with you, and you were about to brush him off.

You hung up the phone without dialing. 

“No. I’m sorry. Stay, please,” you told him, and grabbed his arm to keep him in his seat. You pushed your desk phone away with your spare hand and gave Dean your full attention, along with a smile.

“Where were we?” you asked.

Finally, Dean’s reserved expression eased as he relaxed in his chair, and subtly leaned towards you. He thumbed at your cheek with a smirk.

“I don’t know, something about making it worth my while.”

You bit your lip on a deeper smile.

“Oh, yeah,” you nodded. You crossed the ever-closing distance to give Dean a proper kiss. Your hand found his cheek, and your thumb brushed back and forth across the stubble there. You tasted sweet, sweet pie on his lips. 

Even after you parted softly, Dean went back in for a second taste of you. This time it was deeper, as he angled into the kiss. He once again brought you close, just shy of dragging you into his lap.

His hand reached behind your head and succeeded in taking the clip out of your hair. He tossed it on your desk and sunk his hand into the soft strands while his lips continued to devour yours.

It was a small move, but you found it both soothing and exhilarating. You shuddered when you felt his fingers brush the back of your neck. It had you contemplating locking the door of your office and forgoing the rest of lunch…but your mind was competing with your heart, warning you to be cautious. To protect yourself. 

Really, you’d just met Dean. You had no idea what to expect here, even though your heart was tripping up over his slightest touch.

Still, your face was warm when you eventually parted from him. You chanced meeting his eyes, and you blushed further at what you saw.

The truth was, Dean had been contemplating laying you out flat across your desk. But he tried his best to keep it down to a simmer behind his eyes, a bright and gleaming green.

“Worth it?” you asked. Your voice was a mere whisper, despite your smile.

He returned it, and gave you one last kiss.

“So worth it,” he said. 

Dean wasn’t sure he liked this.

The start of his shift was usually the time for him to be relaxed, but focused. He knew who he was and what he needed to do when he entered the firehouse. It was his second home, perhaps even the place where he felt most comfortable.

And yet, he nearly burnt his hand while pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“Shit,” he muttered. He jolted and hopped back a step as scalding brown liquid splashed between his feet. It had Benny and Meg looking over from the common room, where they sat at the dining table.

Dean looked at the mess he created and tried not to sigh. He wasn’t awake enough for this…or maybe, he didn’t want to admit that he’d been thinking about you.

Your smile, your eyes, your voice, your occasional shyness, versus the way you dealt with your boss like a pro. Your confidence that was damn sexy, and had Dean imagining what you’d be like taking his orders, or giving them right back, shoving him down into a seat, straddling his thighs, his hands hiking up your skirt…

Dean shook his head a bit sharply to try and clear it.

He circled into the kitchen in need of a paper towel. But he bumped right into Jack, who was making breakfast. It sent the salt canister flying out of his hand and dumping into the pan of eggs.

“Oh, fuck. Sorry,” Dean said. He really did sigh this time. Now they’d have to wait even longer for breakfast.

“Uh, it’s okay. I can save it,” Jack said, though his brows were furrowed as he contemplated just how he was going to do that. He took a wooden spoon and tried to scoop out the mound of salt on the still-sizzling eggs.

Meanwhile, Dean’s lips pursed as he went over to grab a few paper towels. Once the mess by the coffeemaker was clean, he poured himself a tall cup and took a seat between his friends. Benny shot him a glance as he sipped at his own mug.

“You all right, brother?” Benny asked.

“Just fine,” Dean replied. He tried to sound breezy, but neither Benny or Meg bought it. She eyed him with a smirk.

“Heard you went on a date the other night,” she said. “A real one, with chocolates and flowers and all that shit.”

Dean shot her a sharper frown. “Who the hell told…oh. Perfect. Goddamn it, Cas.”

He should’ve known that big-mouth bastard couldn’t be trusted.

“Nope,” Meg said. Her eyes were dancing mischievously, and Dean knew he was in for it this morning. “Your little girlfriend is best friends with my cousin.”

She tossed a sly look at Benny. “You remember Andréa. You two were sucking face hardcore the other night. And giving quite a show to the local pedestrians. Have you called her yet, by the way?”

Benny cleared his throat, but he looked both unrepentant and tight-lipped about his business as he stayed sipping his coffee. Dean shot him a smirk. Until Meg directed her cutting gaze back to him.

“And you,” she said, just as slyly. “Dating your own damsel in distress. How fucking predictable.”

Dean’s lips firmed into a line, while Benny’s brows shot up.

“You really went for it with Elevator Girl?” he remarked in surprise. “I saw you two talkin’, but didn’t think you’d pulled the trigger.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “All right, first of all, let’s stop calling her ‘Elevator Girl.’ She’s got a name.”

Once he’d told them your name, however, their smiles deepened. And Dean knew it was about to be a long shift.

“Ooh, he’s got it bad, bad,” Benny shook his head.

Meg made a “cute” face at him and reached out to shake Dean’s chin, smirking when he slapped her hand away.

“Look at him, all twitterpated,” she teased.

“I’m fine,” Dean all but gritted out. 

Benny chuckled, but truthfully, he was happy for his friend. It seemed the time had finally come when Dean Winchester was hooked on a nice girl. Hopefully one he intended to keep seeing.

“If it’s that serious, you should bring her by the Roadhouse again,” Benny said.

Dean snorted into his coffee. “Yeah, like I’d want to subject her to you degenerate clowns.”

“Well, if you expect to keep it going with this girl, she’s gotta meet us eventually,” Meg pointed out. Dean shot her a look.

“Oh, she’s definitely not meetin’ you,” he said.

Meg’s brows knit together. “What? I’m perfectly pleasant.”

Before Dean could utter a retort, a familiar alarm bell tolled on the intercom speakers. There was a working house fire over in Bellmont—the wealthier part of town. Truck 79 and Rescue Squad 5 were called, along with Ambulance 7.

All hands on deck.

“Okay, Jack. You’re staying on my ass once we get in there. You got it?” Dean told the Candidate.

“Yes, Lieutenant,” Jack agreed. It was only his second real fire since he joined Firehouse 25.

By now the team was in full gear, with jackets and helmets and belts. The Chief, Bobby Singer, was at the helm. He and Dean shared a nod.

“All right, Dean. Head in. Lafitte and Ramirez will vent the roof,” he said. 

Dean nodded again. “You got it, Chief.”

While two of his team got the firehose ready, Dean fitted his mask over his face. Already the fire was at a full blaze. They had a limited time before the fire grew too wild to safely maneuver. They’d know when the flames started smoking black. The Chief would let them know on their walkie talkies, and Dean would have to pull his team out.

But first, there was a family of four trapped inside the large two-story house. He fully intended to get every single one of them out.

Thanks to the mask, he could hear his own deep breaths in his ears as he entered the house. A quick look back confirmed that Jack was on his heels, and Gordon was right behind him.

“Okay, clear each room. I’m going right, through the kitchen,” Dean called out the order.

“I’ll take left through the living room,” Gordon replied.

Dean shot a thumbs up. “Copy that.”

Then they got to work.

The flames were high and eating up the walls of what would’ve been a pristine open kitchen. The room was clear, so Jack and Dean kept moving forward until they reached a long hall. They had to hasten single file until Dean opened up the first bedroom with his crowbar.

“Fire Department, call out!” he shouted.

He didn’t hear anything, but that didn’t mean the room was clear. It was a child’s room, a girl if he had to guess. There were stuffed animals strewn across an unmade bed with pink bedsheets. He checked the closet while Jack looked under the bed. Neither man found anything.

“All right, moving on. First bedroom clear,” Dean said into his walkie talkie. “Going upstairs next.”

“Master bedroom clear,” Gordon commed in.

Jack and Dean continued to the second floor, where the flames were thickest. It was getting harder to see, and even harder to breathe, despite the mask.

“We’re almost outta time, fellas,” Bobby radioed.  

“Just a couple more rooms, Chief,” Dean responded. The first and second bathroom was clear, as was a linen closet in the hall. He had a feeling about this last room though.

He opened the door and nearly got a flaming piece of wall dropped on his head. He jumped back at the same time Jack helped pull him to safety.

Dean breathed deeply. He didn’t have time for thanks, but he reached back and pat Jack on the arm before he entered the bedroom. It was another child’s room, this time for a boy—with green walls, and a school uniform on the back of a chair.

“Fire Department!” he said, though it nearly died on his tongue at what he saw.

There in the far corner, on the other side of the twin bed, was a man kneeling on the floor. He was doing his best to cover his wife and kids. His back was charred beyond recognition.

Dean snapped to attention when he heard one of the kids whimper.

“Fire Department,” he repeated, as he rushed to them. He and Jack peeled the man off his family as carefully as he could. Dean hauled him onto his shoulder.

Meanwhile, the man’s wife was crying and holding her children as tight as possible: a boy that looked about 10 years old, and a young girl. The mother’s glassy eyes widened with hope when she saw Jack and Dean.

“We’re gonna get you out. Come on,” Dean reassured. His hand on her shoulder was both supportive and urging her up onto her feet. Jack helped get her kids up as well.

Gordon joined them as soon as they were out of the room. He picked up the boy while Jack carried the little girl, and Dean had an arm wrapped around the mother while he still carried the father on his shoulder. 

They made it out of the house just before the ceiling started to cave in at the doorway.

Meg and Chuck were waiting for them with a gurney, where Dean carefully laid down the man he carried. His wife hovered close with her kids as Meg began calling out instructions to her partner, trying to take the man’s vitals, all while they wheeled him towards the ambulance.

Just before they would’ve brought him up into the ambo, Meg halted them with a hand. Her other gloved hand was poised at the man’s wrist. She listened closely for a few more seconds in concentration…

And she sighed through her nose. She removed her stethoscope and met the wife’s eyes.

“I’m sorry. He’s gone.”

Dean’s heart fell into his stomach, but he held the woman as she fell apart. Jack and Gordon did the same for the kids. Behind them, the rest of the team were dousing the flames and black smoke consuming the house with the firehose. Chief Singer let out a heavy breath, but he continued issuing orders as needed.

Dean stared at the pale, soot-stained face of the man he’d failed to save. The woman’s cries rang in his ears, and he continued to support her as she fell to her knees and gathered her children close.

He understood their pain.

Not for the first time, he wondered what his father must’ve felt…the day his mother died.

Dean was a seasoned firefighter. He’d seen enough of the horrors this world could produce, and he had an internal catalogue of shit he’d rather forget. But he knew, as he later got back onto the truck for the long ride back to the firehouse.

He knew this day would be another one to be imprinted on his memory.

“You’re quiet,” Sam noted. He ate dinner in relative silence with his brother, in the apartment they shared. Dean met Sam’s eyes.

“Long day,” Dean eventually said.

Sam didn’t like the sound of that. Before he could probe further, Dean’s phone vibrated on the small dining table.

Dean slowly reached for his phone and saw the new text message, from you.

Hey, thanks again for lunch yesterday. Hope I get to see you again soon. ❤️

It briefly lightened him, almost bringing a smile to his face.

It soon fell, even though his thumb hovered over the keyboard to reply. His mind was blank. Right now, he couldn’t think of a damn thing flirtatious, or charming, or even human enough to say to you.

“Dean,” Sam said, earning his attention. “What’s wrong?”

Again, Dean hesitated. He blew out a slow, heavy breath and sat back in his seat. He ran his fingers roughly through his hair as he thought and thought.

But if anyone might’ve understood where his head was at, it was his brother.

“What do you think would’ve happened if Mom had made it out of the fire, instead of Dad?” Dean asked.

To say that question shocked Sam would be an understatement. Yet to his credit, Sam internalized most of his reaction. He tilted his head as his brows furrowed.

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly. Dean’s question was impossible for his mind to even wrap around; mostly because he never got the chance to meet his mother. The house fire claimed their home when Sam was barely six months old.

All he knew was his father, and Dean.

Dean shook his head and wiped a hand over his mouth, an anxious gesture Sam knew well. 

“She would’ve been just as messed up at Dad, but…I don’t know. Ignore me. I don’t know what the fuck I’m saying.”

“What made you think about that?” Sam asked.

“Today,” Dean said. Though he paused, he managed to say it. “It was a house fire. A mom and two little kids, boy and girl. Their dad just laid over ‘em, took the brunt of it.”

“Jesus…he didn’t make it, did he?” Sam deduced, from Dean’s eyes and his tone. Dean shook his head slow. 

“I’ve seen a lot of shit, Sammy, but…”

This was why Sam worried about his brother. He admired the hell out of him, but he also worried. 

Sam had a ring in his nightstand. He’d picked it out last month. Part of him was hesitating to move forward, not because he thought his girlfriend of three years would say no to marrying him, but because he didn’t want his brother to be alone.

“You don’t have to look at me like that. I’m okay,” Dean said, levying him with a knowing look. His lips gave a wry turn. “Nothing a couple shots of Jameson won’t cure.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, that’s what you need.”

“Right. Like I haven’t caught you up late with your mistress, Johnny Walker,” Dean tossed back.

Sam’s lips pursed, but the point was made. He spent his days putting murderers, drug dealers, rapists, and thieves on trial. Some days were darker and more unreal in their realism than others. And he could only burden Eileen so much.

Still, he didn’t like the look of Dean, who got up from the table and took his half-full plate of spaghetti to the sink.

Dean went up to his room and showered. He’d done so at the station, but showering was one of those methodical things he could do to try to ease his mind, besides working on his car. It provided an alternative to drinking. 

But it didn’t work this time, as he knew it wouldn’t. He lied in bed after getting dressed, just staring up at the ceiling. 

He checked his phone and saw your text, still waiting on an answer. He hesitated…but his thumb hovered over your name. He called you instead.  

“Hey,” your soft voice greeted him. You sounded surprised to get his call, but also a little sleepy, like you were on the verge of going down for the night.

“Hey, yourself,” Dean said. “Sorry, were you about to get to sleep?”

“No, I’m awake. What’re you up to?”

“I’m home. Been a long day,” he admitted. 

“Yeah?” you asked. “Dean, are you okay?”

He heard the perceptive shift in your tone. Against his best efforts, he should’ve known you would pick up on the threads of his mood. But he smiled at the sincerity in your voice. True concern. 

“Yeah. I’m good, sweetheart. How’re you?”

“Uh-uh. Not so fast,” you replied. “…Did something happen at work today?”

He sighed. “Yeah, but uh…we don’t need to get into it. It’s okay.”

“You sure?” you asked. “I’m a good listener.”

“That you are,” he said, with a deeper smile. “You know what’ll help me?”

“What’s that?”

“Tell me, how bad did you wanna knuckle-dunk your boss’s teeth in today?” 

“Oh my God. On a scale of 1 to 10?”

“Lay it on me.”

“20,” you replied. “You met him, so now I can tell you without exaggeration. He’s the Chief Asshat among asshats.”

Dean chuckled. It crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“What’d he do this time?”

You explained your latest frustrations. Then you continued to make him laugh with all the creative ways you’d imagined ending your boss for his dickish behavior, demanding reports, pitting you against your coworkers, being a general pain in the ass. 

The rusty can opener in the break lounge was Dean’s personal favorite. 

Hearing about your day, and the colorful adjectives you used, managed to lighten him. For a little while, it even took his mind off his troubles. And you admitted that venting to him about your violent fantasies was its own form of therapy. 

“Damn, do I gotta worry about you?” Dean teased. 

“Only if you get on my bad side, Lieutenant,” you said. Your voice was nearly a purr.

It had him smirking, with a tendril of heat lacing down the back of his neck. 

“All right, then. I promise I won’t make it a habit,” he said. “Gotta keep you nice and sweet for me.” 

You laughed then, in a way that had him imagining your pretty smile. 

He ended up talking with you about everything and nothing, well into the night.

AN: 🥹 *sighs* Anywho, I know this chapter was a little shorter than usual, but I hope you got a kick out of Dean's first meeting with Nick. And we got a snapshot of an unfortunate "bad day" at the firehouse.

In Part 6, we'll get deeper into the murder mystery, along with a taste of jealousy...

Next Time:

“Uh, no, that’s okay,” you said. “I’m waiting for someone.”

“What?” Gordon asked.

It was getting busy in the bar, making it loud enough that you could understand why he hadn’t heard you. You leaned over towards his ear.

“I’m good for now, thanks,” you said, raising your voice a bit. Gordon leaned in even closer and chanced resting a hand above your knee.

“You sure?” he asked. He gave you a smile that was all smooth sex appeal and confidence, without being arrogant. It was undoubtedly attractive, but you were more shocked than charmed in your blush.

You instinctively leaned back when you felt his hand on your thigh.

Keep Reading: PART 6

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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[mostlysignssomeportents]

Fighting junk fees is "woke"

“Populism” isn’t intrinsically left or right. The distinction between the two is often obscured by jargon, but there’s a simple litmus test (courtesy of Steven Brust): “ask what’s more important: human rights, or property rights. If they say ‘property rights are human rights,’ they’re on the right.”

Which is to say, both the left and the right can be populist, but the populist left seeks to improve peoples’ lives, no matter what that takes, while the populist right is only willing to make the world better when that doesn’t interfere with the interests of property owners.

This is how you get the Libertarian Party of New Hampshire equating publicly produced, free insulin with forcing enslaved Black people to pick cotton in the fields:

https://newrepublic.com/post/174485/libertarian-party-suggests-former-black-lawmaker-pick-crops-free

For right populists, the property rights of pharma giants are human rights, so anything that interferes with those rights is equivalent to any other human rights violation.

This is not only wrong, but it’s also a huge vulnerability in the right populist mindset. It’s a button that, when pushed, produces a reliable and reflexive outrage.

This is essential for the creation, maintenance and expansion of plutocracy. In a plutocracy, a small minority owns most of the property (we live in a plutocracy). By definition, plutocracy isn’t popular, since it’s a system that benefits a small minority at everyone else’s expense. In its natural state, plutocracy is only popular with its winners, and not the vast majority of losers it creates.

So plutocrats need to find ways to get turkeys to vote for Christmas. One important trick is to convince us all that the system is fair, guided by an invisible hand that performs mystic passes over our heads at birth and locates the very best of us and elevates us to the apex of the social pyramid.

But there’s a problem with this: plutocracy is self-sustaining. The story that we’re all just “temporarily embarrassed millionaires” who can rise to the top with hard work and smarts falls flat in the face of the reality that nearly everyone at the top was born there. If the system selects rulers based on merit, and if everyone the system selects was born rich, then the rich must have some genetic trait that makes them destined to rule.

This is why plutocracy always turns into aristocracy: the idea that some people are suited to rule because they have “good blood.” Eugenics is, above all, a way to excuse inequality. Fitness to rule is determined primarily by whose orifice you emerge from, and only secondarily by any obvious competence or skill.

So right wing footsoldiers are mired in a terrible and shameful swamp of self-loathing. By definition, their lack of wealth and power is their own fault, and not merely their fault, but the fault of their genes. Being on the bottom is proof that you deserve to be there. Your failure to rise proves that you don’t deserve to rise.

No wonder the right is so irony-poisoned. Remember 2020, when gun-nuts got “revenge” on gun safety scolds by photographing themselves pointing loaded guns at their own penises? The participants insisted that they were just trolling, and they were…by pointing loaded guns at their dicks:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/28/holographic-nano-layer-catalyser/#musketfuckers

Plutocrats understand that there are limits to irony, and that at a certain point, irony poisoning becomes so acute that your rank-and-file literally start blowing their balls off. To relieve the pressure, plutes scapegoat other people based on their gender, sexual orientation, race, or nationality.

This provides an important resolution to the cognitive dissonance of meritocracy. The reason you’re doing so badly isn’t that you lack merit, it’s that affirmative action has elevated unworthy people to the positions that you deserve. You are a temporarily embarrassed millionaire — but the riches you deserve have been snaffled up by welfare queens and DEI consultants.

Cruelty isn’t the point of culture war bullshit: the point is power. Cruelty is merely the tactic:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/09/turkeys-voting-for-christmas/#culture-wars

Culture war bullshit is a very reliable way to get turkeys to vote for Christmas. Take the campaign against junk fees, which have ticketmastered every part of your life with “fees” for things like “paying your rent by check” and “not paying your rent by check”:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/30/military-industrial-park-service/#booz-allen

There is no broad constituency for junk fees. Scam artists (including scam artists in the C-suites of Fortune 100 companies) love them, sure, but junk fees make everyone else furious.

What’s a plutocrat to do? Well, it turns out that culture war bullshit can make right wingers point (metaphorical) guns at their own junk — all plutocrats need to do is put the word out that getting rid of junk fees is “woke” and low-information right-wing thumbsuckers will demand the right to be charged junk fees.

Here’s an example: one especially pernicious form of junk fee is the “swipe fees” that credit-card companies charge merchants. In an increasingly cashless age, these companies — dominated by the Visa/Mastercard duopoly — have figured out how to scrape 3–5% out of every single retail transaction in the entire fucking economy.

Every merchant you patronize has to charge more — or reduce quality, or both — in order to pay this Danegeld to two of the largest, most profitable companies in the world. Visa/Mastercard have hiked their fees by 40 percent since the pandemic’s start. Forty. Fucking. Percent. Tell me again how greedflation isn’t real?

A bipartisan legislative coalition, led by Senator Dick Durbin (D-IL) and Senator Roger Marshall (R-KS) have proposed the Credit Card Competition Act (CCCA), which will force competition into credit-card routing, putting pressure on the Visa/Mastercard duopoly:

https://www.congress.gov/bill/118th-congress/senate-bill/1838/text?s=1&r=3

This should be a no-brainer, but plute spin-doctors have plenty of no-brains to fill up with culture war bullshit. Writing in The American Prospect, Luke Goldstein unpacks an astroturf campaign to save the endangered swipe fee from woke competition advocates:

https://prospect.org/power/2023-08-04-wall-street-culture-war-swipe-fee-reform/

Now, this campaign isn’t particularly sophisticated. It goes like this: Target is a big business that runs a lot of transactions through Visa/Mastercard, so it stands to benefit from competition in payment routing. And Target did a mean woke by selling Pride merch, which makes them groomers. So by fighting swipe fees, Congress is giving woke groomers a government bailout!

It’s literally that stupid. It’s being pushed by a dark money group based in Kansas, which is targeting Senator Marshall’s constituents with mailers that warns voters they’ll “lose their credit card points” because he’s thrown his lot in with “liberal politicians”:

https://punchbowl.news/caf-marshall-mailer-kansas/

The fliers also warn that competition could result in “your financial data could be processed by partners of the Chinese Communist Party” (the bill bans foreign companies from routing transactions, and bans China UnionPay by name).

The fliers are anonymous. The only ghoul shameless enough to put his name on the campaign is Grover Norquist, whose Americans for Tax Reform tells its Christmas-voting-turkeys to “side with consumers, not woke retailers.”

The dark money org pushing this line have placed op-eds in newspapers across red states, comparing transaction routing competition to your kids’ data being snaffled up by Tiktok:

https://www.theflstandard.com/senators-rubio-and-scott-must-protect-the-personal-financial-data-of-floridians/

This nonsense was peddled by League of Southeastern Credit Unions president Samantha Beeler, whose org has spent $20,000 fighting the CCCA, claiming that a “cheaper” system would be “less secure”:

https://disclosurespreview.house.gov/ld/ldxmlrelease/2023/Q2/301493985.xml

But that’s small potatoes. Millions are being spent, right now, lobbying against CCCA — $5m from the American Bankers’ Association, $2m from the Credit Union National Association, another $400k from Mastercard.

For these rentiers, corrupting our government with millions is a stellar bargain if it lets them continue to collect rent every time we spend money. And millions of people who’ll end up paying that will demand the right to do so, provided they’re told that they’re fighting “woke capitalism” and China.

I'm kickstarting the audiobook for "The Internet Con: How To Seize the Means of Computation," a Big Tech disassembly manual to disenshittify the web and bring back the old, good internet. It's a DRM-free book, which means Audible won't carry it, so this crowdfunder is essential. Back now to get the audio, Verso hardcover and ebook:

http://seizethemeansofcomputation.org

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/04/owning-the-libs/#swiper-no-swiping

[Image ID: A mechanical credit card imprinter (AKA 'zipzap') emblazoned with a US flag Punisher logo. It is imprinting a blank credit-card slip with a red Visa card bearing the GOP logo. It sits on a weathered wooden plank table, stained a dark brown.]