#also yay! his first appearance...

[nihils-trolls]

"This'll be a long shot, but... anyone know of a job that pays okay, doesn't mind anons, and isn't ludicrously dangerous to the point of risking my health each night?"

"Or incredibly illegal?"

"Askin' for a friend, of course."

=> Also known as you. You're the friend. The recent... incident with Oceanview has put you out of a job- and bruised you up. Like hell you're going to see a doctor, though.

=> But now that you can move around, you've thought about some things. One of them being the decision that you're not going back to Excelsa Luxe.

=> This very well might be your chance to get out, while the others are more preoccupied with other things. ... Is it too late to try something a little more legitimate?

[loumandaniel]

rewatching the first 10 minutes of s1ep1 since the end of s2 and i'd forgotten that in the first five minutes they hint HARD that the end-goal for daniel was being turned. that's absolutely what he meant with "worthy of my story now". louis would let him hear his cautionary tale, they'd tell him they let him live out a full human life, and then turn him. it's absolutely how louis sold letting the interview happen to armand. louis just always had another card up his sleeve.

louis knew something was wrong with his life and he hid his fears behind the one person he knew armand could be distracted by.

[saline-coelacanth]

Phantasm Cave Part 2 (link to part 1)

And yeah, that's what Oliver saw in the Phantasm Cave! If I really wanted to, I could analyze and dissect everything he sees in his vision but I will refrain (at least for now)

Also this was scene in the actual season was the first one that made me go "Oh yeah, I gotta do something with Oliver here". For the most part I try not to have AUs on the brain while watching something new but I also can't help it sometimes.

[lucabyte]

via your last comic, i think youd have a great time reading Tidelocked by faedemon. its like your braincells found eachother across time and space and went “hey what if Loop was suffering actually because they no longer had autonomy due to the wish”

well i've sure read it now !! damn !!!

Here's a link for everyone seeing this ask -> (LINK)

@moipale hi this fucking rips? 🤝 i am grabbing you i have nothing particularly coherent to say but this was very very well written! The flow of the prose was very nice and there were a lot of really good moments of rhythm!! As someone who is dialogue-heavy in my writing i can really respect a more prose heavy piece like this it is super well done. Massive fan of that method of loop getting their body back also. really fucking good.

i don't wanna say anything specific in this ask because people should go read it for themselves but the bit with the [objects] in [the location] was so fucking inspired. perfect pairing down and microcosm of theme. well done

[mulletsonlydotcom]

lachryma slapped my nuts off my body it was THAT good

[lemedstudent2021]

paris and helen harmonies save me

save me paris and helen harmonies. guys im going to cry their voices are so beautiful and on top of that work so well together and i ough

[fraddit]

355 today! And it just flowed out. I'm afraid to jinx it, but my new system seems to be effective so far. Of course it needs to keep being effective past the accursed adhd zone of this is still novel and therefore stimulating.

[tizeline]

TSAU Season 2 Finale - Part 2

Click here to get to Part 1

So Leo and Raph portal to Big Mama's hotel, Raph isn't very enthusiastic about making a deal with Big Mama considering Draxum has always warned them of how dangerous she can be, but it's not like they have a lot of better options. So while Raph is contemplating how to get BM's help without completely screwing themselves over, Leo immedietly jumps in as soon as they meet her and suggests that Raph can fight in the Battle Nexus in exchange for her help! Without consulting Raph about any of this first! Uh oh! So needless to say, Raph starts freaking out a little bit about this, which is made even worse when Leo just decides to reveal that the both of them were made from Lou Jitsu's DNA! UH OH!!

So the reason why Draxum has always tried keeping his sons away from Big Mama is because just them being genetically modified super soldiers already makes it more likely that BM would wanna kidnap them and force them to become gladiators in her Battle Nexus. This possibility doubles triples quadruples if she were to ever find out that they're more or less biologically speaking Lou Jitsu's kids. Not to mention she might wanna take revenge on Draxum for stealing Lou Jitsu from her. All of this is to say, Draxum has always made it very clear to his sons that this is something they need to keep hidden from her. It's a big secret. A big secret that Leo just revealed to Big Mama. The one thing Draxum told them not to do? Yeah Leo just did it. What the fuck.

Listen, Leo's inital offer of having Raph fight in the Nexus wasn't quite enough to get Big Mama to agree to the deal, she needed an extra push, so Leo took a calculated risk and revealed their secret origins. From here on out it plays out basically like in canon, with Raph freaking out the entire time. They both get Lou Jitsu outfits cuz Raph is basically being marketed as "Lou Jitsu Jr". Then when the battle begins Leo also gets yeeted into the arena, it's revealed that he actually planned this entire thing, him and Raph defeat the enemies and Raph is confronted witht he fact that Leo may or may not be a tactical genius???

No one ever really realized just how strategic Leo can be, including Leo! Granted, he can also be very impulsive and reckless at times so it's not entirely their fault no one ever realized Leo's full potential. That being said, he can clearly be real clever with coming up with strategies and plans when he puts his mind to it, he just outsmarted BIG MAMA! No one outsmarts Big Mama! Raph had already started to learn that maybe he should trust Leo a bit more than he usually does when he found out that Leo was right about the whole Dark Armour thing, but this moment right here really cements it for him. But with this little side-quest over and done with, it's time to head back to Donnie, April, Splinter and Shelldon.

So what have they been up to this entire time? Well, again it's rather similar to in canon, they've just been fighting Shredder the entire time lol, April gets to kick ass using a crane! Mikey doesn't get to yeet that big boat this time tough :( since he's not even here. What does still happen is that Donnie almost gets his fucking shell ripped to pieces by Shredder (he's called that for a reason ig). Donnie's battle shell in the AU already isn't really armour and it leaves half of his shell exposed, and he's not even weaing it right now! THANKFULLY he has gotten good enough at using his Ninpō at this point so that he can use that to shield himself, cuz otherwise LEMME TELL YA he'd be fucking DEAD.

Finally they end up that alleyway where Donnie have managed to calculate that Shredder is supposed to appear in. That's when Leo and Raph return with the mystic collar they got from Big Mama, again the rest basically plays out like in canon, Shredder shows up and they manage to get the collar on him and he's finally defeated, yay! Big Mama shows up, sends him to some magic prison dimension and I'm sure this is definitely not gonna become a problem later on, yay again!

With that entire distaster prevented, everyone is now tired as fuck so it's time to go home. With all the drama going on in the Draxum family at the moment, Splinter suggest that Leo and Raph should stay at his and Donnie's home, if only for a few days if they don't feel comfortable going back to Draxum. Leo and Raph decline though since they feel a responsibility to make sure that Draxum and Mikey are doing okay, especially since The Hidden City authorites may or may not come after them now that all their crimes have been exposed. But Leo and Donnie promise to meet up again soon now that they're officially BROS!

Aaaand that's the TSAU season 1 finale! A lot of stuff is gonna go down in season 2, like all the Draxum family drama, Mikey's angsty teen arc, Shredder coming back and causing problems, Mikey maybe getting a cat, Donnie properly bonding with at least some of his brothers, and finding out wherever Casey disappeared to! So yeah, stay tuned for that!

Also bonus doodle vvv

[that-one-girl2020]

Saja Boys x Rumi’s Sister! Reader Pt. 4

A/N: Hello all of you. Wow, you all keep popping out of the kpop woodwork but thank you for all the support! I love reading your comments! I decided to post this today since I was able to squeeze it out tonight.

Reminder for people, I can’t tag more than fifty people so the tag list is closed. But, feel free to share outtake ideas in the comments or dm me!

TW: Self mutilation (just scratching on the arms), insecurity, and toxic mentalities (Thanks Celine)

Word Count: 4,457

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

(Reminder: Baby = Jum, Romance = Chungae, Mystery = Hyeon, and Abby = Kwan)

That night, as the Saja Boys laid outside the venue for Huntr/x’s fan sign event, there was nothing for them to do but scroll on their phones or talk to each other. Each had a single sleeping bag and only Jinu had a chair to get more comfortable so the boys were a little miserable. But, needs must in war.

“Sooo… who else has been hardcore simping for (Y/n)?” Kwan suddenly asked to fill the quiet.

“Hardcore.”

“Yeah, same.”

“Yes.”

“Obviously.”

There was just something about you that called to them. Maybe it was the way you smiled or the way you laughed without restraint? The way you treated them with normal kindness despite knowing that they served Gwi Ma? The way Gwi Ma’s voice quieted when they were around you? The way you made them feel more human than they had in centuries?

There was more to say between them. Of course there was, they were fond of this half human, half demon girl and they were plotting to destroy her world and kill her sister and her friends. And the moment you told them your weakness, they would have to exploit it to make the Honmoon and the Hunters shatter.

The Saja Boys felt a creeping feeling of despair.

~~~

That morning, you had gotten the girls up and made them something to eat then let the wardrobe and makeup team up. Their outfits were already set out in the living area along with the girls' makeup. The girls hated this part, usually doing their own makeup but it kept appearances up when there was a team doing final checks on their appearances. And pampering them. It also gave more people more jobs.

It was totally chaotic and you caught yourself scratching every now and then before your focus was drawn to something else.

“Okay okay okay, girls, team, everyone down to the cars! Gotta get the venue set up!” Bobby ushered everyone toward the elevator, the girls and you going down first and Bobby would follow with the rest of the team. You were so thankful for a private garage. It kept rabid crowds of fans trek crowding them.

When they got there, they set up the tables and the posters quickly, you making last minute adjustments to their appearance. For fan sign events, you stood behind the girls to get them anything they needed and to take care of gifts the fan gave them to keep room on the table.

Bobby set the last of the posters in front of them as the girls did final stretches and settled into their seats. “All right, team, I know everyone is all Saja, Saja, Saja, but we’re gonna turn it into Huntr/x, Huntr/x, Huntr/x! Yay! These fans slept on the sidewalk, overnight!” He did his best to hype them up.

“And I got all the fuel you guys’ll need to get through the next few hours,” You told them, nodding your head to the box of drinks and snacks you had for them.

The girls did their little circle, cheering each other with their pens, “Happy fans, happy Honmoon!” They whispered.

You took your place behind the girls as the doors opened and the fans flooded in, spearheaded by five people in sleeping bags, “Let’s bring them in! Welcome!”

The five sleeping bags eagerly waddled up to the table despite Bobby’s urging to go in a single file without pushing. You couldn’t help but giggle, it reminded you of the sleeping bag Mira had you design for her for the Met. Maybe they were Mira fans…

“And who should I make this out to?” Rumi greeted them.

“‘To our biggest fans.’”

‘Wait. You knew that sly, antagonistic, pretty voice.’

The sleeping bags dropped and the Saja Boys smoothly posed. Your jaw dropped. Did they really spend all night on the sidewalk just to mess with the girls? Were they that petty? Apparently, yes. Yes they were.

Bobby moved quickly, greeting the boys respectfully despite the interruption and the girls' complaints as they snapped their pens, summoning another table for the boys. But as soon as half the line split to line up in front of the Saja Boys’ table, Rumi stood, “The Saja Boys will sit with us!”

Zoey and Mira protested but the half of the crowd swiftly rejoined the original line as Bobby teared up at Rumi’s genius. The girls rearranged themselves, spreading out though Mira and Zoey clearly didn’t want to.

You couldn’t help the frown you had as Chungae and Kwan sidled up to Mira while Zoey fawned over Hyeon. And Jinu was whispering with Rumi. You did your job, grabbing five more waters from your box to pass out to the boys. It kinda… hurt when they didn’t acknowledge you, you knew they couldn’t, not with the fans and the other girls here, but still. It stung.

You couldn’t help but giggle when Kwan started passing out signed sketch outlines of his abs though.

You blinked and then sighed fondly when Hyeon started barking at a fan for some reason. You bit your lip, you wanted to pull him back but you couldn’t make any contact with the boys like this. You scratched at your arms in stress.

“No!” Zoey hit him with her pen, scolding him, “Bad Saja Boy!”

Hyeon backed down unhappily, pouting as he bit back a growl at the girl. He crossed his arms, sulking. ‘She hadn’t noticed how the fan’s eyes kept flickering up to stare behind them, at you,’ Hyeon mentally growled.

At the same time, Kwan, Mira, and Chungae started fighting over who would sign a fan’s leg cast first. Seeing the huge problem, you grimaced and quickly rushed over since no one else was doing anything.

“Woah, woah, woah,” You waved your arms over them, smiling tensely down at them, “Good idols don’t further injure their fans,” You hissed pointedly though your customer service smile didn’t waver. You shoved Chungae’s pen in his hand and slid the man’s leg over to him first.

”So sorry about any discomfort sir, they were just so excited to sign for you,” You bowed to the fan and scurried back to your place. You made sure to keep a watchful eye on them.

‘Why couldn’t they be like Jum? Jum was just quietly signing the posters and whatever the fans asked to be signed—within reason. Jum is being perfect. Be more like Jum guys.’

Speaking of Jum, he waved you over and you leaned down to offer your ear when he crooked his finger to the squeals of some of the fans. “Do you have any energy drinks? It was a long night on the sidewalk…” He whispered. Your face heated at the sensation of his voice in your ear and his breath fanning over your skin.

‘No! Bad thoughts (Y/n)! Focus on the boy, he wants an energy drink!’

Straightening up stiffly, you didn’t dare say anything because you knew you would stutter and stumble and make a mess of yourself. You smiled and nodded your head, hurrying over to your drink and snack stash. You were not running away from the hot maknae.

Jum couldn’t help but smirk and chuckle fondly as he watched you scurry away to get an energy drink for him. The back of your neck was flushed so he could imagine the flustered look on your face. He hadn’t even meant to, he was just really tired. But your reaction definitely gave him a little bit more energy, at least enough to smile at fans and send hearts at them every now and then. Jinu would owe them big time for this one…

“Here you go, Jum,” His name slipped out without you meaning to but, thankfully, no one seemed to hear you.

Jum took the can with a smile, making sure your fingers brushed as he did, “Thanks (Y/n).”

And then he cracked it open and took a long drink, his throat bobbing with every swallow.

‘Was this fan service!? Run (Y/n)!’

You got out of there as fast as you could. You scurried back to the safety of your drink and snack stash so you could bury your face in your hands until your face cooled down. ‘In front of the fans too…’

You looked up in time to awe over the cutest little girl ever going up to the table with a drawing, her eyes on Jinu. You couldn’t see Jinu’s face as he slowly took the drawing, other fans shouting about how much they loved Jinu.

You blinked, cocking your head in confusion when Rumi suddenly stood, her arms held out to gesture at Jinu, “Isn’t he great? Woo! Jinu, everybody! Yeah Jinu!” Rumi cheered. It set off the crowd of fans, cheering and clapping wildly as they threw bouquets of flowers to each of the Saja Boys.

“‘Woo, Jinu’?” Mira echoed in disbelief. You grimaced, she didn’t sound happy at all…

Jinu then stood, “Unfortunately, the Saja Boys have to run. Thank you, everyone.” The rest of the boys followed his lead.

You stood at attention when Bobby suddenly waved to you, “(Y/n), can you show them to the back exit and call one of the cars around?” He trailed off into muttering about how the boys never had any managers or employees with them, a little disgruntled.

You started to nod when Rumi’s protective streak flared anew, “No!”

Everyone was looking at her.

”Uhhh, I mean, I was gonna ask (Y/n) to get me a, uhhh…” Rumi trailed off, her mind blanking on what to say. The Saja Boys already kidnapped her sister once and put her in danger, she didn’t want them doing it again.

“Some more water! You wanted some more water, right Rumi?” Zoey chimed in, her smile strained as she tried to help.

“Yeah! Yeah, I need some more water!” Rumi agreed quickly. All eyes went to the half full water bottle on the table. She quickly snatched it up and chugged it down. Aggressively.

“Okay… I’ll get you some more water, you can go ahead (Y/n),” Bobby reassured and you smiled awkwardly. There was no getting out of this. Not that you really wanted to get out of it…

“It’s fine, I’ll be right back Rumi,” You reassured your sister before leading the boys to the back as they waved to the fans, “This way.”

As soon as the boys were out of sight of the fans, they sagged with exhaustion, tossing the bouquets out.

You grimaced, and fished them out of the garbage, “Come on guys… I know you guys are tired but, just take some pictures with them later or something, the fans’ll like that…” You knew they were exhausted and probably aching from sleeping on the sidewalk all night but you couldn’t just let them do that right in front of you.

Jinu was quiet behind you, staring thoughtfully at the girl’s drawing in his hand.

“Tired…”

“Too much effort…”

“Can’t do it…”

“Nghhh…”

You shook your head at them, leading them to the back exit as you juggled the flowers in your arms to get your phone and text one of the drivers to come around to the back door.

“Okay, wait right here and one of our drivers will come and take you guys wherever you need to go,” You told them, shoving your phone in your pocket.

You almost fell over when someone’s body weight was suddenly on top of your shoulders, their face resting in the crook of your shoulder. “So tired…” Hyeon groaned. You blushed but couldn’t move before Chungae and Kwan plopped on the ground to lean their back’s against both sides of your legs. Jum pouted, settling with just leaning his head against your arm as all four boys tiredly closed their eyes. You were stuck.

It was like when a cat or a dog deigned you with the honor of them laying in your lap so you didn’t dare shift even a millimeter in the horrible case of you disturbing them. Your muscles were tense and you felt like your legs were going numb but you didn’t dare move.

You looked up flatly when you heard Jinu snickering to himself. “These are your children, shouldn’t you take them?” You hissed at him.

Jinu held his hands up in surrender, “Hey, they like Mama more, that’s not my fault,” He smirked.

The cluster of five people all looked at him in deadpan. Did this guy really just insinuate that he and you were their parents? “Ew.”

Your phone chimed and you slowly shook the boys off, “Alright, car’s here guys.”

They whined but released you and got to their feet. Chungae took your hand in his, swinging them back and forth as he pleaded, “Come with us, wanna cuddle…”

‘Okay, so Chungae got childishly clingy when he was tired. Noted.’

“I can’t, you guys can’t keep kidnapping me. I gotta stay with the girls for this event,” You told him and started herding the boys outside and to the car.

“Fine…” Chungae huffed, mindlessly giving you a kiss on the cheek before he shuffled into the car first, “Bye darling…”

‘Was he really that tired?!’ Your face combusted.

Looks like they were taking turns.

Hyeon was next, taking your hand and pressing a lingering kiss to the back of it before he followed after Chungae, “‘Till next time, princess.”

Kwan wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you in a tight hug and oh gosh. You can feel all his muscles. “See you later, babe.” And then he was climbing into the car too.

Jum approached you with a cool air, but his eyes didn’t meet yours as he took your hand in his and gave it a soft, shy squeeze, “Thanks for the drink earlier, beautiful.” You opened your hand as he climbed into the car to see your favorite candy. Was this gift-giving…?

Jinu tried to hide his chuckle at how red and flustered you were as snores started sounding from the car already. You pouted at him. “You look like the co-host from ‘Play Games With Us!’ after the spicy challenge,” He quietly cackled.

Was your face really that red? You pressed your hands to your cheeks to cool them down, tossing the flowers into the car after the boys. “Shut it, pretty boy,” You grumbled petulantly.

Jokes on him, now he was flustered and blushing. Jinu could dish it out but he couldn’t take it when the flirting was directed at him apparently.

Jinu cleared his throat, looking away from your little smirk as he fumbled with his hands. “Okay, uh, I’ll see you around.”

“Okay. Bye Jinu,” You waved as he fumbled to get into the car as you walked back to the door.

“Uh, byeee, ugh,” he cringed at the way his voice came out. You didn’t get to hear him mutter and groan at himself as he quickly closed the car door behind him and the car soon took off.

You shook your head in amusement at the boys and went back inside to finish the event with the girls.

It was hours later of Rumi glancing worriedly at you out of the corner of her eye until the event finished, Bobby grinning happily at the success of the event.

“Great job girls!” He cheered, circling the table as employees cleaned up the venue. He showed his phone to Mira and Zoey joined to see what it was, “The internet loves this, and the internet is never wrong!”

You looked over their shoulders as Mira snatched Bobby’s phone to go through the stories, “Rujinu! That’s genius.” It was a picture of Jinu and Rumi’s feet touching under the table with the caption, ‘Rujinu?! Playing footsie?!’

Mira tapped through to a drawing of Zoey with a glowering baby Jum in her arms and Hyeon at her side with a beaming smile, “Zoeystery. Where did they come up with that?”

And an edit of Mira with Chungae and Kwan on each side of her, the three surrounded by hearts, “Miro-mabby?” Mira tried to sound out the poly ship name as her fist clenched.

“Aw, you’re so cute together!” Zoey cooed lightheartedly.

Your eyes widened when Mira clicked again and this time it was a collage of Jum whispering in your ear earlier, drinking the energy drink, and you burying your red face in your hands with the caption, ‘(Y/n) is literally us, same girl! I hardcore ship it tho! (Y/n) + Baby!’ With plenty of hearts.

Zoey gasped excitedly, “They even did you, (Y/n)!”

You bit your lip, flushing as Mira turned her head to look at you, “You were blushing over them?” She asked you incredulously.

You stared flatly back at her, “I don’t wanna hear it when you kept watching Abby make those sketches of his abs.”

She shrugged, “Point taken.”

Zoey nodded, “Yeah, fair enough.”

~~~

Rumi didn’t know what to do.

On one hand, she had Zoey and Mira with this diss track, racing towards their goal of destroying all demons and trapping them in the demon realm with Gwi Ma for eternity.

On the other hand, she had Jinu and the constant niggling in her head that not all demons deserve to suffer.

And below it all, the protective determination to protect you, her sister. The faster she completed the Honmoon, the faster her and your patterns would be gone so you both could live normal lives. That’s what she wanted for you.

Rumi couldn’t talk to you about what was going on, you wouldn’t understand. And she didn’t want to freak you out over Jinu knowing about her—and by extension—your patterns.

But she did have to talk to Jinu. Maybe there was hope for him. And if there was hope for him, then there must be hope for you and her.

That’s why she gave the note to Derpy to give to Jinu.

So, early in the morning as the sun was just barely about to come up, she saw Jinu waiting for her. “She wants to meet, and she’s late?”

Rumi couldn’t help but sneak up behind him and land on the wall, making him shriek and flail as he turned and saw her suddenly crouched behind him. “You made me come all the way out here so you could jump-scare me?!” He panted, gripping his chest as he felt his heart slowly come down from the hummingbird speed it had jumped to. (Y/n) would never treat him like this…

Rumi jumped down smoothly, ignoring his question. “Follow me.”

He did. “Well, I’m glad you’re finally ready to talk. Although, you could’ve picked somewhere nicer for a date.”

Rumi faltered, “‘Date’? No! Ew! What are you talking about?”

Jinu pointedly held up the invite she had sent him, reading, ‘Save the Date.’

“That doesn’t mean—“ She sighed frustratedly, “You’re so old. This is strictly a business meeting.” She snatched the invite from him, going back to her walk as he trailed after her.

“Right… I thought you were into your friends. Glad it’s not me,” Jinu mused as he followed the purple haired girl.

Rumi blanched again, “What?! No! No way! I— They— We— Just, just keep your nose out of my love life, okay?! Business. Meeting.”

Jinu held up his hands in surrender, “Okay, loud and clear,” He agreed and the two resumed walking, Rumi with much redder cheeks than she had arrived with.

“What if I told you there’s another way to get your freedom?” Rumi asked him, her face serious and solemn now.

“Go on.”

“Help us win the Idol Awards. Because when we win, the Honmoon will be sealed,” Rumi explained, hopping up onto the wall with a touch to the Honmoon so it glowed out over the city. “And that will guarantee your freedom. Gwi Ma will be permanently cut off, and all the demons will be gone from this world. My sister and I will finally be free of these patterns. No more hiding. No more secrets. You can be on this side when the Honmoon is sealed. Away from the demon world, away from Gwi Ma. You can be free from those voices forever.”

Jinu looked away in consideration. Rumi didn’t know his true story, she thought he had made a deal for his family, when in reality, he made the deal for himself. Besides, her thinking was flawed, even he could see it. She was telling herself comforting lies.

“But I am a mistake.”

Jinu frowned at her words, looking up at her.

“Have been since the moment I was born. So, I have to believe. Because if there’s no hope for you, what hope is there for me?”

After a moment, he couldn’t help but ask, “And your sister? Is she a mistake too?”

Rumi looked down, conflicted. “(Y/n)… I don’t want to think so, I love her. But… if we weren’t born the way we were, maybe she would’ve been able to use the Honmoon like us…” Rumi trailed off softly, unsure and bitter over her own conflicted thoughts and emotions on her sister.

They were interrupted by a middle aged woman offering a bracelet to Jinu to give to his ‘girlfriend.’ The two flailed, stumbling over their words until the woman gave Jinu a flat look and Rumi the bracelet with the advice to find a better boy since Jinu was hopeless.

“Well, there’s your answer. Hopeless.”

Rumi gave the bracelet a soft, thoughtful look, “That’s the funny thing about hope. Nobody else gets to decide if you feel it. That choice belongs to you.” She held the bracelet out to offer him, “Here. Think of it as a… friendship bracelet.”

When Jinu took too long to think about it, Rumi turned away to leave with a sigh. “Wait.” He told her, holding his hand out for the bracelet when she turned. She smiled softly and slid it into his hand.

Looking at the bracelet in his hand, he couldn’t help but say, “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you or your sister are mistakes.”

Then they went their separate ways.

~~~

It was all getting to be too much for you.

The girls were at the venue for the Idol Awards since early this morning, practicing their performance for Takedown. You had asked Bobby to deliver snacks to girls for you because you were busy running errands in the city. Bobby had reassured you that he would do that while you did your errands—i.e. getting some air.

Since the fan sign event, you had been scratching at your patterns more and more. The Idol Awards were tomorrow and it seemed like you couldn’t escape Takedown whenever you were in the apartment with the girls. It always seemed to be playing, whether the girls were changing lyrics, working on choreography or just rehearsing singing the song.

And the more time you spent with the Saja Boys, the less you wanted the Honmoon to be completed.

Jum pretended to be aloof but he liked to give you little things that reminded him of you. He often found you while you were out running errands just so he could follow you while you did, no matter how boring it was like getting groceries. The both of you had gone back to the cat cafe the other day and had taken selfies on his phone with the cats. He had a whole album of them now.

Chungae came to your balcony most nights to whisk you up to the tower roof balcony. You two would sit and look out over the city, just talking. He would insert a flirty line every now and then to see you blush and rile you up but would always smooth it over with a fond smile.

Hyeon was more of a wildcard. He would find you while you were getting a breath of fresh air at the park or just in the city. Like he had a built in radar for you, he would find you when you felt stressed and he would distract you. He was a little protective though, growling at people he felt were too close to the two of you.

Kwan was starting to make a foodie out of you. He would barge in during random parts of the day when you were alone to drag you off to a new food place he had found or heard about. No matter how bizarre it seemed, he would always try it and you somehow ended up trying it too. He would draw you into little debates, getting you wound up in your bickering until you were laughing with your eyes passionate as you argued your point.

And Jinu was like a ghost fading in and out between all these different interactions. He was probably the calmest besides Jum and Chungae—it was a little weird that those two were the calmest when they were the two youngest of the group. Jinu introduced you to Derpy, his tiger and the little demon bird that always accompanied him. You laughed when he explained that he had made the hat for Derpy but bird kept taking it. Jinu and you bonded over music. You shared modern music with him, not just modern kpop, but jazz, rock, punk, pop, classical, everything you could think of. The two of you would sit under the night sky, an earbud in each of your ears as you listened to music.

You didn’t want to lose the five boys that had somehow wormed their way into your heart, not when they made you feel more safe and seen than even Rumi did. Besides, if even the five boys who were so kind and comforting to you ended up trapped on the other side of the Honmoon, then what hope was there that you would get to stay? In your stress, your patterns have progressed more than Rumi’s has. She could still wear shorts and skirts if she wanted to, even if her arms and neck had to be covered. But you?

Your patterns have progressed well onto your legs to the point where you couldn’t wear shorts or anything that showed your legs at all. The stress was making you scratch so bad despite you taking Jinu’s advice and trying to keep your nails short, that you had to start bandaging your arms under your sleeves to try and mitigate the harm you were unintentionally doing to yourself.

“(Y/n)?” You looked up at the call of your name. Oh yeah. You were trying to get some air so you went for a walk.

Who is it?

(A/N: Vote for who it is here! Can’t post anything until the poll is over!)

Outtakes:

*Before the Series*

You: “You completely wrecked your private jet?!”

Huntr/x: “It wasn’t our fault! It was the demons!”

You: *Pulling your hair out* “That is literally your excuse for everything!”

…

Jinu: *Resting semi-comfortably on a chair* “So…How you guys doing?”

Saja Boys: *Laying on the cold hard cement sidewalk, plotting Jinu’s death* “Shut the f*** up.”

…

Random Fan: “Awww, Mira, Romance and Abby get along so well, it’s so cute!~”

Mira, Romance, Abby: *Currently trying to kill each other*

Other fan: *side eyeing their friend* “Yeah…so well…”

Random Fan: *Manically whispering* “I will die on this ship.”

…

Jinu: “So, you like those other girls, right?”

Rumi: *Bipanic mode activated, blue screen mode activated* “Uhhhh…”

…

Rumi: “Yeah…me and my sister were born as mistakes.”

The Saja Boys, Mira, Zoey: *Ready to fight* “I’m sorry, what?”

Tag list: @brights-place @itmechaosartist @reni502 @chin-chii @cultish-corner @enerofairy @mama-m1na @akariis4snowball @gremlinartstudio @shynotded @shadowmoonlight0604 @omgsuperstarg @neigesprincess @sleep-7372 @hurts-my-brain @kiwibackie @gh0stied3ath @naysha140 @theferretkids @lelantyuu @sexyindependentdowntospendit @hornehlittleweeblet2 @moonymoo1 @moochiwoochi @cheolright @crescent-z @prorpy @mey-archive @cami1qx @nerdalicios @xxsadlovexx @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone @blackheart34 @anonymousewrites @scarletrosesposts @justanindiangirl12 @beexboo @tatsuri-zomushiki @call-me-nyxx @queenofviolenceandnerds @randomfan218-blog @jaybbygrl @unholycheesesnack @ocean-mochi @iviorienne @confusedparticle @otakusimp1 @nosbaby07 @fries11 @ri-eveowe @1950schick @libdarkheart @yourjustassaneasiamx @the-bookish-artist @anduinandwrathionlover @eternallyrosyfire @lysira340 @lansy-4 @strayharmony943 @maximumtrashchild @bleufu1 @minepugs @valeriele3 @arieslucy @nisarelle @suzieq1948374

[paintedonmyteeth]

Life w/ Mr Crawling!

A QUICK WARNING BEFORE YOU READ: This is following after the Blissful Love Life ending, if you don’t want spoilers I suggest scrolling! — Anyways moving on from that, I FINALLY got the fucking motivation to put something out after how many months, (yay!) Starting off with my new horror game fixation :)))) Finally got my brain juices going, and I thank Homicipher for this. This is probably going to be me posting abt it for a while. BUT it gave me the motivation to write stuff at least. If you also noticed I changed the formatting a little with my hcs and I think I like it better this way w/o the bulleted list, so Imma def keep this.

⭑.ᐟ — Ever since you’ve escaped the other world with Mr. Crawling, you had some small difficulties in getting back in the swing of things. You no longer had to worry about your safety, check over the shoulders for any monsters, you had your normal life back now.

⭑.ᐟ — And this time you had Mr Crawling to share it with! :D

⭑.ᐟ — When you first brought Mr Crawling home with you, man was absolutely ecstatic and he immediately went exploring around the house while you fixed him some food to eat.

⭑.ᐟ — Mr Crawling really liked your place, it felt cozy and warm, it had you too of course, and it was so much more welcoming and nicer in appearance compared to his world. Plus there was a lot of new stuff he hasn’t seen before.

⭑.ᐟ — It was a nice change not having the house to yourself anymore, Mr Crawling made the place a little more lively with his presence, following you around the house like a lost puppy, occasionally asking a few questions.

⭑.ᐟ — You showed him many things, movies, books, and lots of other things. He even had his first shower too!

⭑.ᐟ — You even tried teaching him basic words in your language such as “hello”, “goodbye”, “thank you”, or “please”. While Mr Crawling was having a hard time getting a gist of them, he still tried his best. <3

⭑.ᐟ — With your old life back it also meant you had to pick up your job/college again too.

⭑.ᐟ — Mr Crawling was never fond when you left the house for this long, so he mostly sat around at the front door waiting for your return.

⭑.ᐟ — Then upon your arrival it’s extra cuddles tonight to make up for loss time. He’s sad that you left him alone for this long :((

⭑.ᐟ — On the bright side however he likes going on grocery runs with you! Since nobody else could see him, it wouldn’t bring any unwanted attention. Of course with Mr Crawling’s babbling as he followed you into the aisles, you brought headphones/airpods with you so people didn’t think you were insane for talking to yourself.

⭑.ᐟ — Mr Crawling in general is very happy you let him tag along with you leaving his world, he couldn’t be any happier getting to stay by your side. And his love for you grew as well! :)

⭑.ᐟ — The first time he tried saying something in your language was “I love you” to show his gratitude. Though it sounded a bit butchered for a first attempt, the sentiment still meant a lot to you and it was a step towards somewhere to say the least.

[sunday-bug]

The Celibacy Challenge

Pairing: New Avenger!Bucky x New Avenger!Female!Reader

Word Count: 3k

18+ Minors DNI (NSFW)

Synopsis: You decide you want to try a celibacy challenge with your boyfriend, Bucky. Who caves first? The New Avengers place their bets.

A/N: Is this based off a challenge that I failed with my husband? Hehe. Also, shoutout to my girls for betting against me - @soelstress @buckybarnes82 @buckybarnesfic / yes, it was ME, you were right.

“Why though? I just don’t get it, honey,” Bucky sighs, shaking his head.

“It’s supposed to be a challenge, baby! It’ll be fun.” You’d just gotten through a poor explanation of a sex experiment you wanted to try with Bucky, and he was less than enthused.

You show him the article you have pulled up on your laptop - 30 Day Abstinence Challenge: A Battle of Wills - and smile. “It’s meant to be hard… no pun intended. And at the end when we can finally have at it, it’s apparently explosive.”

Bucky furrows his brow, clearly unimpressed with the idea, and lowers his voice, his expression growing more serious. “Is it not explosive enough for you?” He blushes, looking around the empty common room before he continues more quietly, “Because It is for me.” 

“Oh stop, it’s amazing, baby. You’re amazing. That’s not what I’m saying. Just try it with me? It’ll be good for us! And there’s this optional part that people add where they do yoga together at night. It’s supposed to help you relax and loosen your muscles.” You look up at him with a hopeful gaze, nearly begging.

He rolls his eyes. “I know how to help you relax and loosen you up already. We don’t need a sun salutation for that.” 

You cock your eyebrow at him. “Didn’t know you were a yoga man, Buck.” 

“I’ve dabbled… it was a long time ago - anyway, if you really want to try this, then I’ll do it with you.” 

“Yay!” You squeal. “Let’s start fresh tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? So are you saying… ?” Bucky winks at you.

“Yes, Sarge. Take me to bed.”

DAY ONE

Bucky walks into the kitchen the next morning to you and Yelena at the breakfast bar nursing two coffees. 

“So, yeah, it’s supposed to help you feel centered and then at the end, it’s apparently incredible.”

Bucky stops short and looks at you, “Really? You’re telling everyone about it?”

You shrug and smile, “I mean, yeah? Why not? It’s not like they don’t know we have sex, Buck. We’ve been dating for a while now.”

“Yeah, and we hear you sometimes. It will be nice to have silence for a month,” Yelena quips, sipping her coffee and eyeing Bucky.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters under his breath, dragging a hand through his hair and preparing his own cup. “Fine.”

By the end of the day, everyone in the Watchtower knows about you and Bucky’s little challenge. John gave Bucky a nod and flexed his bicep as Bucky walked into the gym that afternoon - a silent show of support. Bucky sighed and popped his headphones in. As he’s doing squats, a large body appears behind him and waves in the mirror. Bucky grunts and hangs up the bar, taking out an earphone. 

“What do you want?” He asks gruffly.

“Winter Soldier… I hear it’s going to be dry month for you! No snow in forecast,” Alexei jokes, his face turning red from holding back laughter.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Bucky groans, returning to his workout.

“You can do it. You are strong - resilient. You survive Hydra. You can survive no lovemaking for month, eh?” Alexei elbows Bucky in the ribs.

Bucky glares daggers at Alexei and he finally takes a hint, walking off.

Meanwhile, you are working out on the opposite end of the gym, chatting through your jog.

“You’ll do great,” Ava says, running on the treadmill next to you. “It’ll go by fast. Plus, if we get called to a mission, it’s not like you’ll have time anyway.”

“You’re right. Honestly, though, I just love the thought of making him squirm,” you tease.

“You would,” she laughs. “You guys are cute together.”

DAY TWO

After dinner you walk into the living room to find everyone crouched down around the coffee table. Bucky had gone out to get more snacks for your movie night. As soon as you walk into the room everyone stiffens and Bob swallows as his eyes dart back and forth between the coffee table and you.

“What’s going on, you guys?” You ask suspiciously, walking quickly to the table to find any evidence. John puts a small notebook with writing you can’t make out in his back pocket and Yelena scrapes some coins into her hand. “Oh, hi girl,” she says, an attempt at nonchalance. “What movie should we watch tonight?” 

You narrow your eyes at them all - your teammates, your friends - and cross your arms. “Bob, what’s going on?” 

“Uh,” he stammers, looking around at everyone. “We were, uh, just… uh, making a list of movies we haven’t seen yet.” 

“Really?” You ask, putting your hand out and looking at John. “Give me the notebook.” John stands up quickly and backs away. 

“No,” he scoffs, backing into a wall. “It’s just a list of movies. I swear.” 

You see Alexei’s body shaking with laughter out of the corner of your eye and turn toward him. “What’s so funny?” 

“I cannot say,” he chuckles, running a hand through his beard. 

“Alexei Shostakov, tell me now,” you demand, walking over to him. Bucky walks in at that moment, two grocery bags of snacks in hand and assesses the room. 

“Is everything ok?” He asks, putting the bags down on the kitchen island.

“No!” You whine. “They are up to something!” You gesture to the team. 

“You mean the bets?” Bucky asks casually as he starts to unpack the bags.

Your skin heats and you crane your neck to look at him. “What bets?”

“The bets on our challenge,” he explains, and Yelena and Ava groan. John throws the tiny notebook on the coffee table. “What the hell, Bucky? She wasn’t supposed to know!” 

Bucky rolls his eyes, “Doesn’t matter anyway. She’s gonna lose.” 

Your heart skips a furious beat and you march over to him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You demand. 

“Our challenge. You’re going to cave first,” he explains calmly, handing you an Oreo.

“We place bets,” Alexei says, walking over to grab a bag of Twizzlers. “We all agree that you cave first. You lose.”

“Are you kidding me?!” You shout, looking at everyone. “Glad to know you all think so highly of me. I’m going to win just to spite you all.” The team laughs, knowing you aren’t truly upset. 

You turn toward Bucky and stand on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Prepare for the worst 30 days of your life.” Bucky chuckles, but you notice the hair on his forearm stand on end.

“I look forward to winning,” he quips back, his lips brushing your ear.

DAY THREE

Tonight you and Bucky head to the gym to do your new nightly yoga routine. You changed into shorts and a sports bra - your red set that he loves - and set your mats up. He saunters in, gym shorts slung dangerously low on his hips and no shirt. 

“Ready to get all stretched out?” He asks, dimming the lights. 

You scoff at his suggestive comment and settle onto your mat. “Yep,” you answer quickly, still annoyed about the bets.

“Good, I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” he mutters, sitting on the mat across from you. “Take it away, sweetheart.”

You lead, talking about each position and how to breathe through them. You glance over at Bucky during downward facing dog and see him checking out your ass in your yoga shorts. 

“Next up is called the happy baby pose,” you say, lying on your back. “You bring your legs up and grab your feet with your hands, like this.” You demonstrate, spreading your legs and grabbing your feet. Bucky’s throat bobs as he watches you model the pose and then he clears his throat.

“I know what you’re doing. You’re not slick,” he groans. “I’m not falling for your tricks.”

“You’re right. It’s not like you haven’t seen me in this position before. Many times,” you say with a wink. Bucky grabs his feet and follows your lead, stretching into the pose. His eyes find their way to you again.

“Enjoying the view?” You ask, looking over at him. 

“Fuck yeah I am,” he growls before shutting his eyes. “But I’m winning this damn thing.”

You groan and sit up. “Fine.”

Bucky chuckles and you finish your last few poses before rolling up your mats. There’s a light sheen of sweat covering his back and you lick your lips. Fuck - look away.

DAY FOUR

Bed sharing was not without its difficulties. Cuddling was second nature at this point in your relationship, and many times the spooning and soft snuggles led to more. But not this month. You were not going to break first. Bucky pulled you into his chest, still half asleep, and nuzzled into your neck as morning light filtered into your shared bedroom. His breath on your skin sent an immediate jolt of pleasure between your legs and you knew you were in the Danger Zone. 

“Time to get up!” You announce more loudly than normal, squirming out of his arms. You turn to look at him, and damn if he wasn’t a God among men. “Fuck,” you whisper, knowing this was going to be a lot harder than you thought. But it would all be worth it. Right?

You walk down to breakfast and see Yelena and John sitting at the table, while Bob is in the kitchen cutting up some fruit. 

“Morning,” they all three say in unison, and John stealthily removes his tiny notebook from his pocket. You see the movement from the corner of your eye and glare at him. “Really, John?” 

“Well?” Yelena asks, waiting for details. 

“Jesus, guys. Nothing happened,” you say, reaching into the pantry for a box of Cheerios. “Sorry to disappoint. We’re still holding strong.”

DAY FIVE

“You’re doing a hell of a job rearranging furniture,” Bucky quips from the office off of the living room. 

“I’m trying a new arrangement - the feng shui is off in here,” you mutter, pushing the couch a few inches to the left. “Everyone else will like it, too. Don’t worry,” you say. 

“Oh, I’m not worried, doll - I’m just watching,” he leans back in his desk chair and winks. “Maybe it’s not the feng shui that’s off. Maybe you’re just missing something.”

Just a wink - just that little smirk sends heat flooding to your core. Fucking Bucky. Well, you wish you were. But here you are, arranging furniture just to feel something. 

“Try moving the coffee table a little to the right,” he quips, fully watching you now, his legs spread in his chair, his arousal obvious. You want to pounce on him. 

“Stop teasing me, you prick,” you whine, turning your back to him. 

“Stop teasing me in those fucking leggings, then,” he says gruffly, walking out to you, eyes dark.

He looks feral. Like a wild animal - a hungry wild animal. A hungry, horny wild animal. Jesus. Your thighs clench together as he stands behind you, barely touching you. “You need some help with this?” 

“Yes,” you admit. “Thank you. And stop breathing so close to me.”

He smiles and walks to the other side of the coffee table, helping you lift it with ease. “Where to?” 

You groan under the weight of the table and nod your head to the right, “Just this way.” You let out a sigh as you both set down the table and Bucky’s lips twitch into a smirk. “I’ve been missing that sound.”

“What sound?” You ask, confused. Bucky walks to you and gets in your personal space without laying a hand on you. 

“All your little sighs, your groans and moans, your fucking whimpers, you saying my name… Hell, you not being able to say anything because your mouth is full. I need to hear it.” He tilts your chin up to meet his gaze. His dark blue eyes are stormy and full of want.

“Are you breaking first, then?” You tease, leaning up to softly kiss his lips.

“Never,” he whispers into your mouth before breaking away. He chuckles and adjusts himself before walking back to the office, leaving you there aching and full of need. Asshole.

DAY SIX

You walk to the garage to find Bucky working on his bike - tight black t-shirt, rag slung over his shoulder, and the smell of sweat and grease in the air. Nope. Nope nope nope. You turn back around, knowing you won’t be able to take this view without jumping on him. 

“Where you off to, baby?” He asks before you get back to the door, wiping his hands on the rag. 

“I was just looking for… a paintbrush. It’s not here,” you say, hand on the doorknob, eager to escape this honey trap.

“Could you bring me some water please? It’s getting hot out here,” he asks sweetly, and you now notice the sweat dripping down his temples and neck, pooling into the hollow of his throat.

“Uh huh,” you squeak out, rushing back into the compound to get you both some water. Your throat felt so dry all of a sudden - so thirsty. You steel yourself before walking back into the garage, and when you open the door you find your precious, evil man standing over his motorcycle, wiping his sweaty face clean with his t-shirt. His abs and biceps glisten in the sun shining through the open garage door. 

“Thank you,” he says gruffly, reaching for the water bottle. He takes the cap off slowly, eyes never leaving yours, and takes a long drink, humming quietly as the cool water goes down his throat. 

“You’re welcome baby,” you say, sitting down on an overturned bucket, feeling your knees getting weaker with each passing second.

“Would you hand me that wrench?” He asks, gesturing to the workbench covered in tools. You move your hand to what you think he’s asking for and he shakes his head. “The one to the left. There ya go. Good girl.” You pick up the wrench and promptly drop it on the floor at his praise.

“You okay?” He asks with a smirk. This motherfucker.

“Honestly?” You ask, about to combust.

“Honestly,” he encourages you with a wink.

“I need you to bend me over and make me forget my name,” you admit confidently.

He laughs and bites his lip. “You caving?” 

“I’m caving,” you say with a shrug. “I need you.”

“Get your ass upstairs, then. I’ll be up in a second,” he growls.

“But I can’t lose! Everyone was betting that I’d cave first!” You whine, standing up and kicking the bucket like a child.

“Then we’ll tell them I caved first,” he says quietly, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“You’d do that?” You ask in amazement, ready to let him have you however he wanted.

“I just want to hear you sigh my name into my neck, baby. I could give a shit about some bets… Now, get upstairs. Take off that pretty dress. Lay on the bed. I’ll be there in five.”

You fly back inside and run upstairs to your bedroom, the ache building between your legs. You strip off your dress and get under the covers to wait for Bucky.

Bucky walks inside the compound calmly and washes the grease and grime from his hands. His dick is already hard, and frankly, he’s a bit pissed at the days that went to waste when he could have been buried inside you. He makes his way to your room and passes John.

“You look like a man on a mission,” John jokes, taking in Bucky’s focused saunter and dark eyes.

“I am,” he mutters, walking past John to your bedroom.

He walks through the door and closes it abruptly behind him.

“I’m sorry. This challenge was a dumb idea,” you admit, pulling the covers up to your chin. “I need you. I miss you.”

“It was a strange idea, love. I’ll agree, but the yoga has been nice. I love seeing you in all those positions,” he whispers, getting on the bed with you and pinning your wrists above your head.

“You’re not going to go easy on me, are you?” You ask, biting your lip and trembling. 

“Not even a little bit,” he growls.

–

After you both thoroughly and completely fail the challenge (twice to be exact), you head downstairs for dinner with the team. John already has his notebook on the dining table propped open with a pen. You try your best not to make eye contact with anyone. 

“You guys do anything fun this afternoon?” Yelena asks, raising a brow.

“Just watched a TV show together,” you answer almost too quickly. 

“What show?” Bob asks genuinely.

“Golden Girls,” Bucky says at the exact moment you say “The West Wing”. You clear your throat and correct yourself, “Golden Girls”, just as Bucky says “The West Wing”.

“We watched both,” you say with a nervous laugh, putting some green beans on your plate.

Yelena walks over to get a plate and looks at Bucky. “James, your shirt is on inside out.”

John snorts from the dining table and you look at him warily, then to Bucky. 

“Oh, yeah, it is,” Bucky looks down and shrugs, filling his plate and walking to the table. “What’s so funny, Walker?” 

“You guys obviously caved. We just need to know who,” Ava says quietly, rolling her eyes.

Bucky scoffs. “It was me. She’s just too cute. Couldn’t help myself,” he says as he plants a kiss on your head. “Everyone happy?” 

Bob’s eyes light up from the end of the table and he shouts excitedly, “I was right!” 

Your eyes flit up to meet him. “You believed in me, Bob? That’s so nice actually.”

“Of course I did. Barnes never shuts the hell up about you. I knew he’d cave first. I’m surprised he hasn’t asked you to-”

“That’s enough,” Bucky interjects. “I caved first. Let’s move on and enjoy dinner.” He looks at you slyly and winks before leaning down to whisper in your ear, “I’ll always take the blame for you, sweetheart. But you’re going to pay me back later with your mouth.”

Your thighs constrict and you gasp quietly. Poor Bob. Awful at placing bets, but he’d never have to know.

[cranberrymoons]

does everyone remember that one scene where there's an argument about good cop/bad cop parenting and buck and eddie are just sort of standing off to the side. and when someone is like "can't you just both be the good cop" to the parents who were arguing, buck and eddie are (in unison) like Noooo and everyone literally stops saving some guy's life to turn and stare at them. and they don't appear to realize they've said anything strange. okay. so i am rotating that in my mind and i am thinking about how easy it is to assume that buck would be the Good Cop parent in chris's life because it would be easier for him to be the fun dad especially at first when he doesn't have as much of an established role yet. and this is largely true (ie that time eddie has to give buck the You'd Better Back Me Up look when chris is grounded from playing video games or whatever; and btw the implications of that in the sense of like....... eddie expecting buck to back him up. and the idea of buck being empowered to Not back him up if he wanted to. and chris instinctively knowing this enough to do the "one parent said no so i'm going to ask the other parent" thing that kids do. anyway.) Anyway. i think it is largely true that buck is the fun dad but i also think he is sometimes the serious dad. like he is the one who half the time has the Big Talks with chris when something is going on in their family. and also he is definitely the one who made chris eat his vegetables when he was a kid. because eddie is much quicker to say okay :) let's order pizza. when he doesn't feel like cooking. and buck gives him a Look and eddie is like UGH fine. we'll order a salad with the pizza and chris you'll eat some of it. or else. and then proceed to not actually make him eat it. idk. they're a family. yay.

[kenyummy]

✰ 07. the ballad of a bygone blight.

✰ ꒰ ⍣'ˎ˗ platonic yandere batfam / spider! reader ꒱

✰ 07. a fools own parade.

SYNOPSIS : being spidey isn't easy. being transported into an alternate universe where you're nothing but a shadow in your house, makes sneaking around a little easier... until you find yourself the apple of their eye... kind of.

note: im not really sure if it counts as it's a very small passage but tw for a lil bit of an identity/existential crisis??? not very sure haha I mostly just write what comes to mind

also, first father appearance! yay! he finally shows up, and he's as mysterious as ever, hehe. next chapter will be either dink focused or ... someone else... 🤔🤔🤔

prev. ✰ masterlist ✰ next.

You dab at your nose with a tissue, cringing at the sight of crimson still pouring out from it. How hard was that guy's chest, anyway?

A thick bandage is stuck tightly on your nosebridge, taped to your skin and soaked in blood. Changing it every hour was a giant pain, but you'd rather have a bloody bandage than clothes.

Thinking back on it, you almost can't imagine the look in Tim's eyes again. Nothing strange. Nothing too out of the ordinary, but different enough to make the hair on your arms raise.

(You're the greatest anomaly in his life. Isn't it natural a detective wishes to solve such a damning mystery?)

How differently his entire composure grew once he saw you laying there, dirtied hands clutching your face. Was it normal for a guy like him to change his entire stance at such a moment? You'd be inclined to believe he couldn't care less about something like this, from all those diary entries spanning several years.

But seeing that look, when you'd stopped him from coming closer, putting distance between you two, as you thought there'd always been, how could you possibly think that? That look of worry, fingers twitching as he reached out, and expression of pure betrayal when you'd stepped backwards. Away. From him.

Wasn't that how it'd always been? You couldn't stop thinking. Maybe you were wrong? Maybe your spidey sense, for the first time in your life, was wrong?

They say that a fool's time spent thinking is wasted time.

You spent hours sitting at your desk pondering all of this. What it meant. Why your siblings seemed to all give you this strange, sinking feeling in your stomach. Raise goosebumps up your arms.

Soon, these thoughts spiralled back to your home. How you could help Reed. Speed up the process. Not wishing to mess with his delicate work nor rush him, but also getting restless with this family.

This family who's known you for their whole lives, yet seems to similarly know nothing about you. This you, their you, any you. Too little to care, too much to hate. The worst kind of balance that upset the universe and made your stomach twist with bile.

But at this point, you weren't too sure who was who, which was which.

If, tommorow, you'd lost everything and if you were caught in a blazing heat, would it be you who had died? Or somebody else? Would it be you in that coffin, underneath a stone who's name carved into it, did not belong to you?

The concept of being your own person, what did it mean? What could it mean when there were more of you, exactly the same, only shaped by their environment? An endless amount of copies, down to the genetic level, each in different worlds yet unmistakably the same?

When you stare into the mirror, nothing is the same except the red that flows down your knuckles when you slam your fist into it. Nothing remains the same except what you look like inside.

Though—in the end—even that belonged to them, didn't it?

You barely ever see your sister, nor her blonde friend. The ginger haired woman has more pressing matters to attend to than ever seeing you, it seemed—something you'd actually grown to appreciate, seeing how positively suffocating those other "siblings" had started to become.

Dick, who was thankfully off in Blüdhaven around now. Jason, who should be out doing his own thing, but seemed to always spare some time for you... as much as you insisted on him not doing that. Tim, who always stared with a little too much intensity and danger hidden behind a sharp smile.

And Damian—your only blood-related sibling, seeming to take great pride in such a fact as he brings it up far more often than not.

You'd begun to realise a distinct lack of a parental figure in your...—

This. This life.

Not yours. This life absolutely was not yours. Everything is seriously messing with your head. Belonging to another unfortunate soul, who happened to have your name, shared your face and voice, yet was everything you never were. Experienced things you never did, yet as you lived in a freedom they could never dream of.

You pitied them more than anything else. But that didn't mean you could just give everything you've ever known up. Your people, your city, your friends, your freedom. This blood that runs through your veins and makes your heart beat steady—it may belong to them, but you never will.

As it spills, you will be free. Losing that chain that binds you and perhaps you will be allowed to feel that wind hitting your face once more. Allowed to swing, fly, feel air and be everything you were destined to become.

Your suit forms over your body and you leap out of your window, leaving nothing but a gust of wind in your wake.

Because, despite everything, it is still you.

The Spectacular Spidey seems to swing and never sleep—the alliteration in the title of this news article you've read makes your head hurt. Said only as an unfortunate pun referring to how you swing from building to building, and only operate during night hours.

(Yet, still careful on avoiding your dearest family... as difficult as that may be—your senses are seriously saving your skin... wait, now you're using alliteration—)

You don't have anything against working during sunlight. In fact, it would be preferable for you. But escaping from school has now become increasingly more difficult after you'd "opened your heart" to MJ and Harry.

Both were completely convinced you were spiralling down a bad path after how you'd acted with Jason, or concerned for both your homelife and general wellbeing—sometimes you truly did damn yourself for picking such good friends.

Nevertheless, you couldn't possibly be worrying about something like that right now, when there's a much bigger problem right in front of you.

A man dressed in a rag-like coat lay beneath your heel, defeated and hands bound together with your webbing.

You'd originally expected to leave immediately, hoping to catch Reed before he was off looking for whatever new part he needed for his grandest project. But now, you can't even hope to move at this point—swamped by flashing cameras and microphones shoved into your face.

Suddenly, you're so incredibly grateful you wear a mask, because you aren't too excited at the prospect of having such unflattering photos of you taken.

"Spidey! What are you doing in Gotham?"

You stammer, "Uh—well, you know—"

"Spiderguy! What's your thoughts on the articles calling you a knockoff Batman?"

"How am I anything like him?" You gesture to your bright red suit. "Also, it's not Spiderguy—"

"Spidey! Spidey! How do you create that webbing fluid? Is it organic? And is it environmentally sustainable? Who's going to clean it?" The reporters move closer and closer.

You inch backwards, "Uh—well, you know, my webbing dissolves in a couple hours by itself, and of course it's sustainable—"

Before you can finish, a multitude of voices all ring through your ears at once. Piling atop eachother, all at the same time, forming into a mush of different tones and accents, indistinguishable from one another.

You can't even hear anything anymore, not until a voice, loud and clear, cuts through a multitude of others and strikes your ears with ease, "Hey, Spidey! Our viewers have a question for you—how have you gotten past Batman? I'm sure you know he doesn't allow metahumans in Gotham, right?"

You freeze. Shocked, but soon, that shock soon morphs into confusion at what exactly a metahuman is.

"I... uh—" You glance to the side. You know, doing this will spark way too much gossip for your own good. Doing this is practically asking for those headlines that, while technically true, are completely outlandish. You were a reporter yourself (for your alter ego, to be fair—but it still counts).

You know this can't end in any other way than complete disaster.

That's why you reach up, webbing to a building and wave goodbye to those pesky paparazzi, "No comment!" With all the wit a Spider must have, you decide that your flight or fight response instead chose: Web away with a sly remark.

"They should be around here, Batman."

Oracle's voice rings out through the earpiece. Barbara had taken the liberty of helping him in his little crusade after seeing that stunt on live television—that spider-hero running away after hearing that metas weren't allowed in Gotham... though, it provided more questions than answers.

Babs was growing restless. For one: that reaction possibly explained why they were so wary of any member of their family even coming close to them. Always running at the first sight of them, webbing away faster than they could hope to catch up. Escaping Batman and his Robin, Babs couldn't help but wonder about them.

They're good. Smart. They're not some new hero. Clearly whoever's behind that mask has experience.

But this raised far too many questions in it of itself. Why had you only popped up now? Why not years ago —if, judging purely by her own gaze, with the years of experience in crime fighting you must have? Why Gotham?

And perhaps, the most daunting question of them all, "Who exactly are you, Spider?"

Bruce's gruff voice reaches her ears, "What was that?"

Her eyes widen, not realising she'd spoken aloud. Shaking her head, she relents, "No... sorry, it's nothing. Right... according to witness sighting and where they were last spotted, you should be meeting them in the middle right now. Do you have any sightings?"

Bruce shakes his head, jumping over to the top of the next apartment block roof—cowl landing in a swoop behind him. "No. Not yet. See if there's any new sightings."

Bruce Wayne was beginning to grow tiresome of this new hero's antics. Running around through Gotham without a care in the world—all too bright and cheerful as if this was all that mattered. Running around as a meta—unchecked and absolutely dangerous.

Nothing good could come out of this. Not without knowing exactly who you were and what you wanted. He never was a dictator type—never had it in him—but with a crime-riddled city like Gotham, he had little choice.

One small mistake could ruin everything. Collapse all that he's worked so hard to create. A better city, a better future. A regular human—as he is—couldn't possibly ever handle a rouge meta... and in the end, this city may not want him, but he really is the type of hero it needs.

So, that's why, instead of patrolling through his sector—he asks Orphan, Batwoman, and Spoiler to take over for tonight, so he can do some much needed digging into this anomaly.

Tim told him that his webbing sample, one he managed to collect around a month ago, when he'd first come into contact with them, had dissolved within hours. Not enough time to perform any kind of intricate testing, not by a long shot.

Batman has taken the almost passive stance—uncharacteristic of him—but now, he realised with such a slippery Spider, he had to do what he does best, and corner them.

His whitened eyes dart up at the flash of red that flies past him. He snaps his head back and finds the Spider—the one he'd been looking for all this time—swinging from building to building, fast.

But not nearly fast enough. With one false swoop, Bruce is after you, grappling towards you, eyes narrowed and mind absolutely determined.

"Batman? Batman?" Oracle pipes up—he assumes she's been talking for the past couple minutes, but only realised she was speaking into his earpiece now. "Can you hear me? Do you have a visual?"

"I see them. Nearly have them."

The Spider darts their head over their shoulder almost frantically—moves stuttering when they see how close he's gotten toward them.

"Hey! Why are you so obsessed with me, huh?" Thrir voice calls out—unlike anything he'd ever heard. "I mean, okay—yeah, I get it. But if you want a fashion taste like mine, I can make you a suit of your own!"

He clenches his jaw to stop himself from saying anything back.

Their voice grows more framtic at his silence, "H... Hey! You're getting really close, there—let it go! I'm not a villain! I swear!"

More silence, and they seem to let out a loud groan of frustration, seemingly aimed at him.

They stop. Heels landing flat atop a building, and Batman, with his cowl wrapped around him like a cloak, follows on their heel, stalking closer towards them.

You raise your hands in defence, stepping backwards and shaking your masked head, "Waitwaitwait—! Don't get violent with me, I don't want to fight you!"

"Then what do you want?" His voice grows deeper, more gruff and cold. "No metahumans are allowed in Gotham without my permission. There's too much trouble that comes with it. Too many difficulties."

He pauses. "Too much crime. Too many deaths. Unnecessary, preventable ones. Who are you to be an exception?"

"I said wait—!" You shriek as he practically stalks into your personal space bubble. "I'm not a metahuman!"

He stops in his tracks. "... What?"

You let out a heavy sigh, now that he's stopped. Batman taps on his earpiece, "Oracle, can you hear this?"

"Reading, Batman."

You look around, to see nobody. "Oracle? Who's Oracle?" You never read anything about an Oracle.

"None of your business. Now speak. If you aren't a metahuman, what are you?" His whitened eyes narrow, and suddenly those pointy ears aren't so silly looking anymore.

You blink. Once, then twice. "Would you believe me if I said I was from an alien planet full of spider-people?"

Despite the reprocessing telling him your backstory would have on you being near non-existent—you still aren't too fond of the idea of the Batman, your father, knowing your secret backstory.

Besides, Oscorp really does exist in this universe, too—Norman is actually pretty nice. You don't want any unwarranted blame falling on him.

"Not a chance." He folds his arms over his bat-symboled chest and you falter with a sigh.

Worth a shot.

"Fine." Not to say he was the reason you finally relented—but his stare was pretty unnerving. "I was bit by genetically modified spider on a school field trip. It altered my DNA so I became stronger, faster, could stick to walls and became three times more flexible than the average person."

You finish with a winded breath, eyes scanning his expression for any hint of an emotion. You found none.

"Why should I believe you?"

Pausing, you glance away. Crouching down on that rooftop, on the ledge, staring down at the city below. Dimly lit roads and the people littering it. So much like your home, yet so different.

You could see why Batman was this city's protector. You could see why he was so careful about this world, and you almost respected him for it. At the same time, though, you couldn't help but think to all those chicken-scratched diaries.

By a helpless child, unable to depend on anybody but him in this world, and he had still failed. For that, you couldn't face him. Not now, not ever.

"You don't have to believe my story." You finally manage to unlodge the words from your throat. "I'm just saying that whatever your rules are—my existence doesn't defy them. You have no reason to keep chasing me down."

His sharp, whitened eyes narrow. It's the only thing visible in such deep darkness where he lingers.

"Actually..." Oracle's voice rings out through Batman's ears. "Their story... might have some truth to it. Check this out—Oscorp's been working on developing a, quote, super-powered spider. Says spider venom is the cure for disease and pandemics. They've been developing in this field for a while."

A super-powered spider sounds absolutely ridiculous, he thinks. But nothing he hadn't seen before. In a world full of aliens, heroes, personification of life, death, and everything in-between—he shouldn't be surprised at the prospect of gaining superpowers from spider venom.

Looking down at you now—slouched, facing away from him, and almost seeming restless... "Oscorp."

You look back at him, confused. "Huh?"

"Did that spider come from Oscorp?"

... You bite down on the inside of your cheek, hard. Looking back away before you could stop yourself. "No. I'm not from around here. I live far. Far away."

"What do you mean by far away? Why are you in Gotham, then?" He steps closer, to the point he's standing over you with all that intimidating bat-aura that makes the criminals of Gotham run for the hills. Still, you can't bear to see him. Because if you do, you know you'll spill everything you've been holding in like a waterfall.

"I don't know," you admit, honestly. "I don't know why I'm here. I want to go home, but I don't know where that is anymore. All I know is that, while I'm here, I might as well help people. Because... that's what I do."

For a moment, there's no sound other than the honking of cars on a busy road. He's quiet, as silent as he always is. Always was. For a moment, you think you almost see him as that father from so long ago.

But only for a moment.

"... How old are you?"

To your surprise, he doesn't immediately go to accusing you of lying again, or keep his standoffish persona any longer—only asking you this simple, yet strangely personal, question.

In simple words, you're really confused. "What? Why does that matter?"

"You sound young. Too young. And from the way I've seen you fight, you're experienced in fighting high, street-level crime. If I had to guess, I'd say you've been doing this for at least three years. Maybe more."

Sweat beads at the back of your neck, and suddenly everything starts caving in, crumbling like failed architecture. How did he know? How could he have possibly—

Batman continues, "The way you talk, and the way you behave in the public eye, you can't be an adult. I'm assuming you're a child. Meaning you've been fighting crime since you've been in your early teens, right?"

"What are you talking about?" You stand up at your full height, staring up at him. Glaring, as well as you can manage from underneath those refractive lenses. He doesn't back down. "I'm not—"

"You're a child," He repeats. "Don't carry this weight. You don't have to carry the weight of—" Gesturing towards the ground below, he stares down at you, strangely sadly, "All this. Especially not all by yourself. Not as a child."

The only word you want to spit out at him is hypocrite.

"Don't act all high and mighty. That Robin you have looks 12. You're saying a 12 year old is capable of fighting crime but I shouldn't? I'm nearly an adult, for god's sake! I'm—"

You slap your hands over your masked mouth, but still continue. "Don't treat me like I don't know better. You don't know me. You have no idea what has happened in my life."

"I only take Robin under my wing because he needs it. So I can watch over him."

You glare, "So what? So he can turn out like you?"

"So that he doesn't."

And to this, your lips feel sealed shut. You want to say something, but you can't. What could you possibly reply to this?

Even Oracle is silent. Not a word, not a peep. Nothing. The honking of cars has ceased, and it's like the world itself had just gone quiet for that one, stunning moment.

"You're not from here, so I don't know you," Finally, he speaks, and it's like the silence has been shattered like glass. "You're right. But... you're a child. You aren't obligated to this. This isn't your responsibility—to make this world better. If you can live normally, you should."

Isn't such normalcy why you ended up like this in the first place? All those entries, wishing to be like the rest of them—and here your father is now, telling you to be yourself.

If only they had heard this, you think, bitterly. Then, you'd know you were right. That he would only ever see you if you had become one of them.

The thought makes your stomach churn. How pretentious could this man—this devil—possibly be?

"You're wrong. To live normally like this, when I was given the strength to be better, to do things to be a better me... that's just wrong." You clench your fists, hard. "I already made that mistake before. It doesn't matter whether I'm 18 or 80. All that matters is that I'm doing what I know is right."

You pause, allowing the words to sink in. "But to discard the normally in your life is a waste. That's why I live the way I do. To protect the normalcy around me, the ones who can't protect themselves. With great power comes great responsibility... my responsibility is to be the best Spidey I can be."

...

You angle your wrist up and don't bother to look back at him when you walk away, "You and your birds can come after me all you want, but I won't stop doing what I think is right. 'Cause I'm a hero."

When you thwip away, you aren't so sure how you'd forgotten that. How a hero protects the ones they love above all else.

Your family aren't heroes. Perhaps, to the public, and even the whole world—but not to you. They'd failed to protect that child, a miserable, small child, left in that massive world.

To make it so they felt they had to save people, to take that responsibility of power to matter—that was their greatest failure.

"... Batman?" Barbara's voice is a dramatic shift from the silence that started to consume him. "Batman,are you okay? Batman? ... Bruce? Are you..."

He takes a moment to regain his composure, world still spinning as he speaks, "I'm fine. They're... they're okay." Saying the world's like they're hard to spit out, or like he's unsure himself. "I'm coming home."

Barbara wants to say something. About that spider. About what they said to him. Power, responsibility, protection, normalcy, love. But she doesn't. By the sound of his voice, he seems just as frazzled as she is. A conflicted Batman means no good for anybody, including her.

So, she will let him think. Oracle can take a back-seat for now. So can Batman. For now, she's just Barbara Gordon. And he's just Uncle Bruce.

Holding her tongue, "Cass and Steph aren't back yet. Kate left a while ago... said there was something she needed to do. ... Everyone else should be at home, I think..."

"Okay." He murmurs, quieter.

Barbara shuts her mouth and leans back in her chair. There's nothing else for her to say, so once more, there is silence.

...

When Bruce returns back to the Manor, he finds himself pushing past everything and everyone, including Alfred, and rushing up the stairs. Not even bothering to take off his suit fully—tossing his helmet behind him and walking away.

Down a hall to the left, then up right, then left again. Stopping once he, finally, stands in front of a door. Blank. Colourless, dull. Like the rest of the manor, blending in away from those extravagant suits and too-bulky armours.

After a brief moment of confliction, he brings his fist up, and knocks. Standing there, almost the size of the doorway, waiting for any kind of reply.

"Hello? What—"

You freeze at the sight of your father staring down at you—this time, his eyes were as blue as ever and his face was less grim. This time, you could see the greying of his dark hair and the crease of his brows.

This time, there was no escape.

"[name]." He says your name as if it's foreign, unfamiliar. Testing it out like a new spice or seasoning, then seeming to come to the conclusion that he likes it. "It's been a while."

You're frozen in place, mouth open yet unable to speak. What could you possibly do now? Run? Swing? Duck past—

A hand places itself on your shoulder and every siren in your body blasts itself tenfold. Blaring like the most buzzing and painful alarms—so awful that you have to grab the side of the doorframe to stop yourself from falling over.

Panic gnaws at every side of you, chest rising and falling erratically when your headache grows.

What is this? This is so much worse than when I'm with Jason—

His face morphs and blurs as does his words, yet you manage to catch the few, "I think we should spend more time together. Become closer, like how it was before. You are my child after all. The only one who doesn't have patrol or scoutings with me. That calls for more regular ways of bonding, right? That's my responsibility... as your father."

He's smiling. Hardly so, but you're about to collapse. A deafening buzz in your skull, you spit out any agreements you can manage through squeezed eyes, waiting for him to go, to leave, so for a moment, you can finally breathe.

"I'm glad you agree," he says, moving back. Clearing his throat, he looks down at you, recovering as he gives you space. "Next week, then?"

You clutch your head, jaw taut and stance tense. It's a wonder how he hadn't noticed your absolute discomfort, but you digress—just wanting him to go. "Sure."

"Good, then—" Before he can finish, your door slams shut in his face and once again, that barrier has returned. Bruce pauses, staring at that slab of wood keeping you from his line of sight.

Bruce lingers for a few moments longer, fingers hovering the handle, before retracting back and swallowing thick.

Batman walks away, but glances twice over his shoulder, cowl falling behind him.

You slump down your door with a heaving sigh, feeling your head start to clear and breathing stabilise.

That feeling of fear, of utter terror—it was the feeling you'd get with Jason and Tim, but tripled. It was torture. Absolutely awful. Unbearable. You'd not relt anything while you were Spidey on that rooftop, but seeing him here now send your senses spiralling into a whirlwind of chaos.

You grab your head and it falls onto your knees, pulled up to your chest.

Your eyes fall bleak and everything blurry again. Are you going to cry, like a child? To prove him right again, that you're afraid of this? Of him?

Maybe you were more similar to his version of you than you were lead to believe. Maybe—

Still, though, your phone buzzes.

A strange sounding noise compared to the cheap, hand-me-down one you had in your other room. Probably spammed with stupid videos from MJ, and worried texts from Harry. Maybe even the odd "how are you?" from Matt, or something.

(You still don't know how he texts, but that's beyond you).

You pick up your phone, despite the lingering thought it could just be from one of your family members. Siblings, or father.

... You were half right.

From a contact customised to say, the #coolest auntie, there's a text.

Hey, kid. Let's go out. It's been way too long.

You stare down at the bright phone screen for a few seconds longer than you should've. Surprised, sure, but just as confused. Swallowing and considering your options for a second.

You haphazardly let your fingers fly over the keyboard. If your contact name for her was this comfortable, she must be a good person, right? Maybe she could provide an outside perspective on everything. Your family, their hero-lives, even you.

You press your lips tightly together narrowing your eyes down at her contact profile picture. Short, red hair and a smug smile. Pale skin, and the features reminiscent of your father.

Sure. Where?

When you watch the text bubbles pop up on the screen, you can't help but wonder what exactly you're going to do next.

taglist: @hello-bina @cosmosluckycharms @1abi @yhin-gg @insideoutjulie @bluepanda08 @omnivirgo @vanessa-boo @dind1n @welpthisisboring @lunaetiicsaystuff @marsmabe @atanukileaf @findingjaxx @4mrplumi @bunniotomia @lostsomewhereinthegarden @bat1212 @gaychaosgremlin @bongwaterflavoredgatorade @randomlyappearingartist @cxcilla @spidermanluvr444 @cruzerforce4256 @mybones537 @xjesterxjacksx @nirvanaxx1942 @djpuppy-kittens @br33zy-blizzardz @moon0goddess @0sunnyside01 @mei-simp @redsakura101 @the-dumber-scaramouche @wizzerreblogs @lovemiss-vale @deathbynarcisstick @allycat4458 @wonmyheart @luckyangelballoon @one-piecelover @hartwyrm @horror-lover-69 @maria-trisha @4rachn3 @galaxypurplerose @duskeras @coffeeaddictxd @lithiumval @kaz-playz

taglist is open!

[pittrabbit]

crush.

warning: mostly pwp, some angst but happy ending for pope, f2l, age gap implied, afab reader, p in v sex, comfort sex (??), havent watched the show but fucking hate baz, unprotected sex, reader is kind of depraved about pope but who isnt, breeding kink kind of, etc etc etc.

summary: the aftermath of overhearing that conversation between pope and baz

word count: 4.1k

note: i have never actually watched animal kingdom other than edits and clips on twitter here and there. aaand i also messed up the timeline of the show (cath's death, etc), but fortunately this is fanfiction and i can do whatever i want yay!!

➽──────────────────❥

you hadn't meant to be there at that moment. it was a chance thing, mostly a mistake. you hadn't even caught most of the conversation, just the brunt of it. but that had been enough to make you see red.

you had been aware of baz and pope's unspoken rivalry ever since you'd known them. it was a badly kept secret, knowing about baz's treatment of andrew, and of andrew's obvious infatuation with cath. the latter used to make you jealous. you had watched andrew from afar, watched him watch someone else. but that wasnt enough to make your interest in him fade away.

it was understandable at first. you were a little younger, just a little nuisance cath brought around sometimes. it made sense to you why he'd focus on someone else.

even when andrew's eyes were on someone else, you remained in his orbit somehow. this, unfortunately, meant remaining in all of the cody's orbits, but it proved worth it if it allowed you to be in his vicinity. you'd seen him be treated as the black sheep, be alienated and rejected in all walks of life. you'd had a front row seat to his infatuation with cath and julia, to his own mother's infatuation with him, to his hardships with his mental health, being seemingly the only person to realize that he'd always been a victim of his environment.

he never really took note of you. being a friend of cath's only really took you so far when it came to the cody's. your presence wasn't appreciated by smurf, nor was it ever really acknowledged by anyone other than baz and the occasional sleazy comment thrown your way after you'd grown past that awkward adolescent age — all comments made while cath wasn't around. the few times your favorite cody paid you any mind, you could never tell what was going through his head. maybe you were just the closest thing he could get to cath. maybe that's why you'd sometimes catch him looking your way, those intense eyes penetrating you without any hint of emotion towards you.

when andrew went to prison, you had been the only one who seemed to be affected by it. cath seemed relieved to have a breather from him — something which made you irrationally frustrated. the rest of his brothers, and even his mom, appeared indifferent to his absence. you stopped showing up as much while he was gone, though you still remained a present figure, wanting a chance to be there for andrew whenever he came back. you'd even resorted to writing letters to him in prison, wanting to provide him with the comfort and care he'd been unfamiliar with back home. despite his lack of responses, you'd made it a point to write him twice a month, a little more disheartened every passing month in which you didn't get a response.

but it all proved worth it when he came back.

it had been unexpected, his return. there was no warning, no announcement, he'd just shown up at your place.

he'd been awkward, that intense eye contact finding a place on your arm, your shoe, anywhere but your eyes as you opened the door for him.

you'd welcomed him with a sigh of relief and a hug, one which was not responded at first. but when you pulled away, a pair of muscular arms had wrapped around your waist, a gruff mumble of 'thank you' breathed against your shoulder. he didn't need to clarify what he meant. you knew.

the two of you stuck by each other a lot more after that. he was still closed off, still unable to stop his eyes from wandering to cath every once in a while. he was still breaking you little by little, but you'd take anything he gave you, even if this was as much as you'd get. at least his eyes were on you more often now.

he'd sleep over at your place any time coming back to smurf's felt like too much. would let you patch up his injuries after any job that left him too rambled up. he'd even leave you flowers by your door every so often, never saying they were from him, — a fact confirmed by cath, another recipient of said flowers — only ever looking away when he'd spot them in a vase inside your living room. he'd be insistent in driving you home, always opening and closing doors for you in a manner that'd have you blushing if you felt he meant it as anything other than platonic civility.

things were the same between the two of you. the same, but you could swear there was a little something more hidden in there.

you hadn't meant to be there when the tensions between andrew and baz came to a crescendo. you were only stopping by to check on andrew, a habit you'd never been able to kill.

what you caught had only been the end of the conversation. it was the usual screaming match that happened more and more every time those two were around each other. baz had always hated andrew's behavior towards his wife and daughter. andrew had always hated baz's treatment of catherine and lena. it was a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. it was just too bad you'd caught its peak.

"pope, no one will ever have a kid with you. ever"

those had been baz's words.

you could see how they stung. from the corner behind which you'd hidden behind upon hearing the screaming match, you could see any remaining hope or felicity leaving andrew's eyes.

andrew had put up with a lot throughout his life, death, pain, betrayal, but you could see that that realization had been the worst of it all — the realization that no one would ever love him in that way, that no one would ever be his, that no one would choose him first.

it was wrong. you knew better than anyone that baz's words had been wrong, and that andrew's belief of those words had been just as incorrect.

you left after that.

it wasn't your place to interrupt. you were too angry to. you knew that any rendition of coming for andrew's rescue at that moment would've just made things worse for him.

so you went home.

you paced around your living room for an hour, angry, chanting every insult you could imagine under your breath. baz had made you angry through the years, but never to this extent.

and predictably enough, your lonesome anger was interrupted by a knock on your door from the one person who had any more right than you to that anger.

you ushered him in, grabbing his hand and taking him to the living room without a word. obediently, he followed.

"why'd you leave?" was the first thing he asked when once you sat him down, interrupting your breathless offer for a drink or some food. hospitality first.

you'd been trying to stall, wanting to talk about it, offer him some comfort, but unknowing of how to breech the subject without cornering him. it seemed like he didn't hold the same reservations. you hadnt even realized he had seen you at his mother's house.

"you, uhm, you saw me?"

"yeah."

"sorry, i- i didn't want to interrupt. i didn't-"

andrew reached over to an open bottle of beer you'd been nursing before his arrival, sipping it without a second thought.

"you heard all of that?"

you took a place next to him on the couch. knelt on top of it as you faced him. he continued to face forward, paying way more attention to your beer than to yourself. he was embarrassed, probably even hurt and mortified. this wasnt a conversation he wanted to have, yet he was having it with you. he wanted to dig the knife deeper, to hear someone else confirm his suspicions — that no one would ever want him, much less a shared lifetime with him.

"andrew..."

"he's right, you know?" another sip. "cath isn't my wife. lena isn't my kid. no one would ever put themselves through that misery." now a full gulp of beer.

"andrew, that isn't true."

"the hell it's not."

he was making you angry, you couldn't pretend otherwise.

it was obvious to you why andrew would have such a low self-esteem. it wasn't a secret that he hated himself, that he was self-destructive due to a variety of reasons, but that the leading one was a complete absence of self-love.

and you? you took that shit personally. specially when other people fed into it, giving him even more reasons to hate himself.

"listen to me, andrew" you took the beer from him, setting it on the coffee table, your knees now pressed against his thigh, "no — look at me, andrew."

that got his attention.

"you're going to listen to baz? deadbeat, cheater, man-whore, baz?" you scoffed. "the guy whose kid you've been taking care of? god, andrew, you've been more of a father to lena these past few months than baz has been her whole life!" you rasped out.

andrew sat still beside you, semi-wide eyes looking up at you with a shocked expression you'd never quite seen on him before. but you kept going.

"he's wrong. you know that he is. he's projecting his stupid insecurities onto you. baz could never be half the man that you are, andrew." you continued. "lena is so lucky to have you in her life, someone who actually cares about her well-being, and looks out for her, and treats her with care and compassion. and even cath! baz has never once cared for her in the way you do. he doesn't deserve either of them."

your eyes were frantic by now, but you couldn't stop yourself from continuing.

"any woman would be lucky to have your kid, andrew. anyone would be lucky to have you in their life, to be your person, to be the one to give you a kid. i- i wish that i could make you understand that."

your big rant ended there. the momentum wore off when you realized you were giving yourself away way too much.

your feelings for andrew had been one of the many badly kept secrets among the cody's. except that andrew was the only one unaware of it, never once picking up on why you always showed extra interest in him.

he sat there, mouth slightly agape as he looked at you, hands fisted on his lap and eyebrows furrowed in either confusion or frustration, you couldn't really tell.

you swallowed, not knowing what to say anymore. it was unlikely that he believed any word you'd said. his self-esteem was broken down enough that any words of compassion would be useless to him. that, and the fact that he probably didn't want to hear those words from anyone other than cath. what worth did they have if they came from you?

"andrew, i-"

"would you?"

"would i what?" your heart was going a mile a minute. his voice was broken, harsh. he was sitting up straight now, body turned towards you and eyes penetrating you with what looked like anger to you.

you weren't scared of him. you had never been. but in this moment, you were terrified you'd given yourself away. that you'd ruined what he believed to be a friendship, something that could provide him with stringless comfort unlike every other relationship in his life.

"would you-" he cleared his throat, "would you feel lucky? to- to have my kid?"

it was blunt, almost cutting, just like everything else with andrew. and it knocked the wind out of you.

instead of stammering a response, of looking away as you always did when you were teens and you happened to catch his attention, you decided to double down. you stared directly at him, resting your full weight on your knees as you lowered yourself to his eye-line before responding.

"yes."

andrew continued to look at you, swallowing before attempting to speak again.

but you didn't let him.

once again, you took initiative, grabbing onto both of his cheeks and pulling his face towards your own, your lips wrapping around his.

there was no hesitation nor shyness in the kiss. any previous hesitation between the two of you was completely forgotten as you lost yourselves in one another.

he returned your kiss, pulling you to straddle him, closing any remaining amount of distance between you. he inhaled deep between kisses, almost as if he were recalibrating, making sure he was real, that this was real.

you sighed his name against his lips, making him groan in return. his hands were shy, parked on your waist and not wandering any further. it had only been a few minutes, but it was already driving you insane.

between you, your hands made their way to his trousers, toying with their hem and sneaking under his shirt, causing a shudder and another groan to leave him.

"kid, are you- are you sure?"

"are you?" you pulled back a bit. "what about-" you couldn't help but hesitate. "what about cath?"

he shook his head, hands tightening on your hips in a possessive manner. "i don't care about her right now. just want you."

"but-"

but his head dipped, lips now on your jaw, on your neck, all the way down to the bare skin exposed by your tank top.

"please." he pleaded at you. "want you. want everything with you. no one cares about me like you do."

and that was enough to break any remaining resolve in you.

you kissed him again, groaning into his mouth when his hands dipped under your shirt, now flat on your back and pulling you as close as humanly possible. the kiss was wet and nasty with zero finesse to be found. there was a chorus of wet sounds and muffled moans in your living room, only interrupted by the ruffling of clothes and the slight squeak of your couch when you couldn't help yourself but grind your hips against his.

"fuck." he breathed out, forehead against yours.

your lips still chased his, tongue finding his open mouth and sneaking its way inside.

"take me to bed, andrew." you mumbled against his lips.

the groan he let out at that was primal, very unlike the usually quiet andrew you knew. next thing you knew, large hands were splayed under your thighs, lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist as he got up and headed towards your bedroom. your hands were needy, feeling him up as you continued to kiss at his neck and jaw all the way to your bed.

softly, he laid you down on the bed, waiting for you to scoot to the middle before crawling his way to you. his eyes were an odd mixture of soft and predatory while yours looked up at him with need.

again, he kissed you, one hand behind your head to bring your lips to his as he adjusted himself atop you.

"say it again." he rasped, hands finding your waist again, needy fingers bunching at your tank top in attempts to feel your skin, eyes shyly finding the bare skin there before looking back up to your eyes.

cupping his cheeks, you pulled him close, kissing his lips softly, slowly before looking into his eyes and going an extra mile with your response.

"i want your baby, andrew."

he looked pained at your words. but you were unable to really say anything else before he lunged at you with another kiss, making you fall back against the bed as he licked into your mouth. his hands went crazy, grabbing and pulling at every inch of your skin. the needy desperation in his movements proved obvious by his lack of ability in actually taking off your clothes, pulling at the hem of your shorts to feel up your legs rather than pulling them down altogether, dragging off the straps of your tank top and bra instead of throwing your shirt off, all done just to feel a little bit of extra skin.

meanwhile your hands functioned a bit better than his own. within moments you were able to throw off his shirt and pull down his pants low enough to cup his dick, suddenly stopping his abrasive movements.

"fuck-"

"god, andrew, i want you so bad." you panted into his lips. "get this off, please. i need-"

"anything. i'll do anything for you." he groaned before pulling your top off, lips instantly attaching to the newly freed skin until his lips found the barrier your bra created.

your hands gripped at his hair, pulling when he began sucking at the fat of your breast, close enough to the areola to have your eyes rolling back, "fuck, andrew..."

his own eyes rolled back at the feeling, seemingly in love with the feel of your fingers digging into his scalp.

unwilling to stop there, his hands snuck behind you, undoing your bra with surprising ease and groaning yet again at the sight.

"you're perfect." andrew sighed, not allowing you to react before his lips wrapped around your nipple, moaning against it as if he were the receiver of the pleasure.

"i need more. please, andrew, i need-"

"i know. i'll give you everything, i promise," he mumbled against your other breast, still refusing to stop putting his lips on you.

your hands dragged down his back, legs wrapping around his waist and attempting to pull him down on you, hips raising from the bed to try and roll against his. taking pity on you, andrew ground his hips against yours, earning himself a whine from you at the feel of his hardness digging against your cunt.

desperate, you made work of your shorts on your own accord, awkwardly removing them from underneath him as he continued kissing at you, sucking hickeys into your skin like some horny teenager, hands now reaching down to your hips and digging at the skin there like puddy.

"andrew, god, fuck me. please." you whined once more, slightly embarrassed by the desperation in your voice.

this finally got andrew to respond to you, hands undoing his own pants the rest of the way, freeing himself of his boxers in the process.

you eyed him with absolute depravity in your eyes, biting your lip at the sight in front of you, the thick muscle throughout the entirety of his body, the girth of his dick, the beads of cum squirting at his tip, the flushed hue of his skin and the sweat making him glisten as he hovered over you.

"you're perfect, andrew, fuck."

his hand went to your chin, tilting it and removing your eyes from his body, turning them to face his gaze instead, "look at me."

you hummed, wide eyes staring at his own (fighting an impossible battle to not let them stray down to his lips for the hundreth time).

"i'm going to give you a baby. do you understand that?" his voice was raspy, pained, eyes facing the same battle as yours as they ventured to your lips, to your breasts, to the space between your legs.

nodding numbly, you bit your lip, tilting your head towards his lips, "please."

"tell me you want it."

"i do. i want it. please- want- want your baby, andrew. want everything with you."

with one last groan, he closed the distance again, one hand coming to his cock while the other laid you back down. dragging his dick up and down your slit, he sighed at the feeling.

finally, he pushed in, making your eyes roll back for the millionth time, and sigh out his name.

"fuck." he groaned at the feeling, stilling inside you. "i love you." were his next words, almost missed due to his lips' proximity to your skin.

your hands dug into his hair again, pulling him even closer with a moan, "i love you so much, andrew. a-always have."

"i know." he mumbled, hips beginning to move, "i love you." he repeated. "you're everything to me."

those were his last words before picking up his speed, hammering into you as your legs wrapped around him, pulling him flush against your skin.

"you're mine now. do you understand?" he huffed, lips glued to the skin of your shoulder.

"i'm yours, andrew, i'm- fuck! — i'm yours, baby."

your hands dragged red lines down his toned back, marking him equally yours. his shoulder was your next victim, getting marked by your teeth as you bit into the skin there when he thrust particularly hard.

and he loved it, groaning out a pained moan of your name when you bit at him, hips stuttering and hands gripping your hips in a bruising manner.

"you feel so fucking good." he growled directly into your ear. "you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

that had you reeling. had you tightening up around him, your body completely in tune with him and his words. he was all you'd ever wanted, all you'd watched and waited to have.

the idea of having a baby with andrew crossed your mind many times in the past. they were mostly teenage daydreams of a ring, a house, a honeymoon somewhere far away from home and a lifetime for the two of you completely separate of the mess that always surrounded andrew. you had dreams of saving him from the misery that his family brought along, to finally have him look your way and give him everything you had to offer.

you never thought things would go so out of order, that you'd so easily open your legs for him, not a single thought of using protection on your mind and allowing him to do with you as he pleased — as you'd repeatedly begged.

and in this moment you wanted that more than anything. you wanted that baby in you. to have andrew cum deep inside you time and time again, to try endlessly until it finally took. you wanted to lock him up in your home, hide him from everyone who'd ever hurt him, who'd ever betrayed him and keep him safe between your legs.

you'd give him a baby, tie yourself to him for the rest of your lives. the thought of swelling up for him had you tightening around his cock, thinking of every night you'd lay in bed buried in his arms, being the one constant in his life and the reason for his peace.

you knew he'd be perfect for you. that he'd protect you and your baby with his life. you knew that he'd be loyal, would become infatuated and obsessive and addicted, and it just made you so dizzy in all the best ways.

andrew seemed equally desperate for that future, for that ownership over the rest of your life. he rammed into you with an animalistic desperation as his peak approached, grunting unintelligible praises hidden among curses at the unimaginable pleasure.

"cum for me. i'll give you everything, just cum for me." it was the closest thing to begging you'd ever heard from him. the sincerity dripped in his words.

and how could you not lose your mind at that? how could you not when he was staring down at you, mouth agape and eyes locked on your lips, perpetually thirsty for more of you.

you pulsed under him, eyes rolled back and back arched with your breasts pressed up against his chest, the hardness of his muscle further stimulating you throughout your high.

by the time you came back to earth, andrew was a man possessed, drilling into you with a desperation you'd never seen. he made sounds you'd dreamed of, gasping and groaning incoherencies. his grip on you would've been painful had you not been addicted to the feeling of him, to the sight above you.

"cum for me, baby." you sighed, one hand coming up to pull softly at his hair while the other turned his face to look straight into your eyes. "look at me when you cum. get me pregnant, baby. wanna see you when it finally takes."

with one final grunt of your name, you finally felt that warmth inside you. he stilled, shoving himself as deep as possible with a broken gasp, hips spasming weakly against yours.

he made sure not to let himself fall on top of you once he'd filled you to the brim, dropping himself next to you instead. but he didnt allow any distance between you, bringing you to his side with one strong arm, humming when you yelped at the sudden movement.

as if by nature, you nuzzled into his chest, kissing the skin there softly while your hands scratched at the skin of his abdomen with affection.

"you're mine, andrew."

his hand went down to your stomach, rubbing at the skin as if his seed was already implanted in there, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

"yeah? well, you're mine too."

➽──────────────────❥

and she did get pregnant with twins and one was a girl and one a boy and they got custody of lena and they got the fuck out of there and andrew finally got his happy ending and everyone cheered yay!!!!!

[reidsism]

➳ DON’T WORRY — S.R

to nav 𓇙 to s.r mlist

spencer reid x fem!reader

in which spencer is having a tough time, and penelope garcia decides to take matters into her own hands, by sending him on a blind date

wc: 3.3k

warnings: none, just wine! all fluff and awkwardness and a shy blind date that’s not really a date but definitely feels like one (also my overabundance of italics)

a/n: my first spencer fic omg hi!!! pls go easy on me, i haven’t written in like three years and im still only on s9 of cm :,) also not beta’d lol

Spencer’s in a slump. He can’t deny it, even with the forced smiles and the constant “I’m fine”s to the team, day after day.

He knows the lack of sleep has manifested itself in his appearance—his undereyes are so dark he looks like he’s been punched, his hair is more unruly than usual, his clothes are rumpled. He’s even been having trouble focusing.  Stumbling over his words. Mixing up numbers when he rambles, which isn’t even all that often anymore.

He knows the team’s been concerned, too.

Hotch has been glancing at him more during briefings and keeping an eye on him when on cases.

Frankly, Spencer’s getting a bit annoyed by it all.

And then, when he’s staring through the report on his desk, Penelope strolls into the bullpen like a woman on a mission, planting herself next to him, her hands on her hips with a wide grin.

Spencer sighs. “Garcia—”

She interrupts him. “I have a proposal for you.” She’s not hiding her excitement well; her legs are jumpy, her heels stuttering in place on the linoleum where she stands, and she’s even slightly shaking, positively vibrating with eagerness. Spencer holds in a groan. “I feel like the Good Doctor needs a bit of a pick-me-up. So, I’ve done what I do, and made some calls, and oh,” she grins impossibly wider. “Long story short, you have a date!”

Spencer blanches. “What…?”

Garcia just nods. “I set up a reservation for you two at Gianni’s—it’s this totally adorable little Italian place, you’ll love it.”

He can’t quite make out the rest of her rambling. He feels like his hearing is going again, like his headaches have come back full-force. He coughs, successfully ending Garcia’s rant. She just looks at him, a flicker of worry crossing her bright features before she sighs, taking a seat on the corner of his desk. She sets a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Spencer, you can’t lie to me, like, at all. I know you,” she wiggles his shoulder with a cheeky grin. “You’re, well… you’re struggling. We can see it, and, hey,” she leans down to smile softly, more reassuring. “You don’t need to treat it like a date if you don’t want to. I just know someone who I think you’ll click with, and I think it’ll be fun. Y’know, to let loose for a bit? Eat some good food, drink some good wine, have a fun, not death-slash-kidnapping-slash-totally-terrible-things-based conversation? I mean, honestly, Reid, when’s the last time you had a normal conversation with someone outside of us?”

And, well… that makes Spencer pause. He thinks—really, genuinely thinks. About two weeks and four days ago, he made a call to a semi-local bookstore to see if they had a first-edition copy of The Outsider by HP Lovecraft in stock. (They didn’t.)

Since then, cases have taken up most of his time. He mostly spends his days working on cases at the BAU or reviewing the files at home.

Garcia knows she has him beat when Spencer hangs his head. She grins and claps her hands like she’s won a prize. “Yay! So, head home before it’s dark out, yeah? I’ll text you the details! It’ll be fun, don’t even worry about it!” She grins before heading back to her office down the hall, and Spencer sighs, putting his head onto his desk.

***

Spencer stands outside of the restaurant for, probably, longer than socially acceptable. He really would’ve rather not come, but then he started feeling guilty. He didn’t want to hurt Garcia’s feelings by refusing her, and he didn’t want to potentially hurt whoever she had set up to meet him by standing them up, even if he had no idea who they were.

The sign over the door says Gianni’s in blinking red neon, and he thinks the establishment seems… painfully fine, from his view into the windows. It’s not overly fancy, not exactly the vibe of a romantic first date. He mentally thanks Garcia for that.

He wrings his hands one final time before pulling open the glass door and stepping inside.

The hostess smiles brightly at him. “Hi! Welcome to Gianni’s,” she glances around him for a moment. “Party of one?” The smile turns to pity.

Spencer purses his lips in a tiny smile. “Uh, no. I have a reservation actually, under, uh…” he blinks. “Under Garcia?”

God, this is awkward. Spencer nibbles on his lower lip, glancing around the room as the hostess takes a look at the book beside the register. She nods. “Of course, sir. Right this way,” she grins, leading him to the back of the dining room, to a small table nestled in the corner right beside a huge window, the lights of the city nightlife shining through the glass.

He takes a seat with a small smile. The hostess says she’ll have someone over to take care of him shortly, and Spencer just nods before looking outside. It’s started to rain slowly tonight, small round droplets pattering the concrete sidewalk. He follows the lines they leave on the glass like a lure.

When the waitress comes over, she simply introduces herself—Sasha. She says she’ll come back once he’s settled, before leaving two laminated menus on the table and, strangely, taking the wine menu with her.

Spencer starts skimming over the menu, lower lip locked between his teeth. He worries the corner of the laminate between his fingers. Why is he so nervous? It’s not like this is a real date, after all, Garcia even told him it would just be something casual for him to get his mind off of work for a while. But he can’t help the strange stuttering in his chest when he thinks about it, meeting someone he doesn’t know for dinner. It’s not that he’s worried, no, he trusts Garcia. Even if her methods are, well, blunt, he knows that she knows him well enough not to drop a bomb on his lap in the form of a conversation partner.

He’s lost staring through the laminated cover of the menu when he hears footsteps nearing his little alcove in the corner. He glances up, and, well. Is it dramatic to say his breath catches? He’ll deny it if—or rather, when—Garcia asks.

You’re standing with a slightly nervous smile, the remnants of small raindrops clinging to your hair, with wet streaks shining on your skin. You wave shyly at him. “Hi, uh, are you Spencer?”

Spencer’s standing before you can even finish speaking, the chair scraping against the hardwood. He cringes. “Yeah- yes. Hi,” he smiles. 

You extend your hand to shake before pulling it away quickly. He frowns. “Penelope mentioned you don’t really do handshakes,” you chuckle. “Can I sit?” You point at the chair across from him. Spencer nods, sitting back down in his seat, watching as you shed your coat and hang it on the back of the chair, before taking a seat across from him. You smile at him, introducing yourself. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long? I didn’t expect the rain to hit when it did, and I didn’t bring an umbrella.”

Spencer shakes his head with a small laugh; just the barest exhale from his nose. “Uh, no, don’t worry. I just got here. And I didn’t bring an umbrella either, so,” he grins back at you. “Don’t worry.”

“You said that twice,” you grin, all teeth. Spencer can feel the warmth flush his neck. “Don’t worry,” you echo. “Maybe the rain’ll let up by the time we leave.” You pick up the other menu, so casual, and Spencer watches you like a creature he’s never seen before.

His phone buzzes from its place on the table. You don’t look up from your menu, but Spencer can see a faint smirk on your face with a hint of mischief or mirth in your eyes. He scrambles to look at the screen, only to be met with a text from Garcia.

PG: Is she there yet? Call her pretty! And don’t forget to smile! You’ll be fine, Einstein <3

Spencer sighs, turning his phone off and tucking it into his messenger bag, hanging off the back of his seat. He murmurs a small apology, and you simply shake your head before lowering the menu. “Was it Pen?” At his guilty look, you grin and shake your head. “She was badgering me, too. Don’t worry.”

Spencer can't hold back his tiny smile. “We’re saying that a lot.” You just laugh. Any tension that might’ve lingered over the evening seems to dissipate into thin air.

It doesn’t take long for the waitress, Sasha, to return to the table, this time carrying a bucket filled with ice and a bottle of wine sticking out of the top.  Spencer’s eyes widen comically, and you can only laugh as Sasha sets the bucket down. “A 2003 Pinot Gris,” she explains as she takes the bottle out and begins to fill both your glasses.

“I- I didn’t order any wine,” Spencer says, a strange, pathetic tinge to his voice as he helplessly watches his glass get filled. He hopes it’s not too expensive.

Sasha shakes her head. “It was requested when the reservation was made. Miss Garcia said she had your bill covered tonight.” She places the open bottle back into the bucket, the ice shifting around it. “So don’t worry. I’ll be back in a moment to take your orders,” she winks before stalking off.

You both stare at each other for a breath. The silence is broken with your contagious laughter, picking up your glass and raising it for a toast. “Well then. To Pen!”

Spencer grins, slowly raising his glass to gently clink it against yours. “To Garcia.”

Conversation flows naturally, more easily than Spencer had expected. Even when he went on an unintentional ramble about how fettuccine alfredo isn't really Italian, and how the word “pesto” literally means “to crush”, and how Pinot Gris is a French wine, not Italian like Pinot Grigio, even though they’re basically the same thing, and how a wine like this tends to pair well with pasta because of its dry, acidic profile that can cut through thick, creamy sauces.

When Spencer cut himself off to take a full, proper breath, he freezes. You have the sweetest smile on your face, your head resting on your hand like you’re really listening, like you’re actually interested in his long, unnecessary rambling. He takes a gulp of his wine and cringes. God, he hates wine.

When the food gets to the table, you grin at him. “I thought fettuccine alfredo wasn’t really Italian?” It’s a tease, yes, but Spencer doesn’t hear a trace of malice in your voice.

He shrugs, twirling some onto his fork. “I mean, it was technically invented in Rome, but it’s not the same. This version of fettuccine alfredo is an Americanized recreation from 1920s Hollywood,” he says, taking a bite. “Still, that doesn’t mean it’s not good.”

You chuckle, taking a bite of your own food. You grin at each other across the table like teenagers with a secret. It’s nice. Comfortable.

“So,” you start, pouring the last bit of wine, splitting the amount between your glass and his. “Aside from your impressive knowledge of the wine menu, what do you do when you’re not reading about Italian cuisine?”

Spencer shrugs, setting his fork down. “I, uh, I read. A lot.”

You smile. “Yeah, you seem like a reader. Anything that’s not like, work or Italian food-related, though? I’m sure you have hobbies outside of… well, the obvious.”

He nods. “I guess. I’m kind of a nerd about a lot of things, honestly. Not that that’s a hobby,” Spencer clarifies, his shoulders relaxing at your chuckle. “I’m really into old, out-of-print books. You know, the ones that—”

“The ones that cost a small fortune and have that weird, dusty smell?” You cut in, simpering. Your eyes crinkle. Spencer finds it painfully sweet.

He smiles. “Exactly,” he exhales a laugh before taking a sip of his wine. “I like to collect them. It’s kind of… calming, I guess.”

“That’s really cool,” you grin. “Y’know, I used to be super into photography when I was younger. Like, just… taking random pictures of random things.”

Spencer tilts his head. “Really? Like a hobby, or—?”

“No, no,” you laugh. “Just random moments. Sometimes the best things happen when you’re not looking, y’know?” And if there’s a part of Spencer’s heart that flutters in understanding, that whispers “you, you, you,” like an echo in his chest? Well, that’s between him and his internal organs. “Anyway, I haven’t even touched a camera in years.” 

“Why not?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. Life got busy, and now it just feels kind of silly to start again. I do kind of miss it, though, I guess. The idea of capturing something, like… pure. Unfiltered? That’s still pretty appealing.”

Spencer smiles softly. “Don’t worry,” and oh, there’s a warmth in his gut that has nothing to do with the wine. “You still have time.”

“You think so?” There’s a far-off, wistful look of something not unlike hope that swims in your eyes.

He nods, and Spencer wonders if it’s too early to consider buying you a gift.

By the time you’re done, you’ve shared a small plate of tiramisu between you both. The rain outside the window hasn’t let up; if anything, it looks like it’s only coming down harder now. You and Spencer are still mindlessly chatting as you stand, and he helps you put your coat on. You look back at him and smile like a fool.

You walk outside the restaurant, and Spencer stops at the hostess’ station at the front, slipping a fifty to Sasha, and smiling softly as she balks.

The rain is pouring. You groan, “I took the metro here,” you say, raising your voice over the sounds of fat droplets hitting the sidewalk.

Spencer nods, tugging his coat tighter around himself. “Me too,” he glances towards the street. “We can get a cab?”

You nod, watching as he rushes into the rain, out from the cover of the awning, to wave down one of the yellow cars driving past. He beckons you over as one slows to a stop at the side of the road.

You follow Spencer, sliding into the backseat behind him and sitting beside him as the driver turns. “Where to?”

Spencer clears his throat. “Uh, two stops, if that’s alright?” The driver simply nods, and you tell him your address, a faint nervous tremble in your voice.

The ride to your apartment is almost silent, save for quiet murmuring from the backseat. Like you two can’t help the conversation, like you can’t bear not talking to each other for even five minutes.

When the cab pulls up to your apartment complex, you grin at Spencer, about to speak, when he climbs out of the car behind you. He mutters to the driver that he’ll only take a minute. “What’re you doing?” you ask, looking up at him in confusion.

Spencer shrugs, leading you to the doorway to the building. “I wouldn’t be a very good date if I left you to walk to your door alone.” He says it so simply, so easily, it almost shakes him. He can’t believe how nervous he was, not that long ago, refusing to even think of this dinner as anything more than a way to get his mind off work.

You grin widely up at him, letting yourself inside and holding the door open for him. “I suppose you’re right,” you lead him to the elevator. “You wouldn’t be a very good date. But I wouldn’t hold it against you,” you tease, pressing the button for your floor—eight. Spencer tucks that information away. “Don’t worry.”

You wink, and Spencer can’t hold back his soft laughter. He’s quiet on the elevator ride, too busy just looking at you. You’ve managed to shatter every one of his expectations and preconceived notions in no more than a couple of hours. It’s strange, but welcome. You’re welcome, now. Always.

When the elevator opens, and you lead the way to your apartment door, you turn around to face him fully. “Thank you,” you smile softly, looking up at him. “I had a really good evening, Spencer. Thanks for not running off.”

He purses his lips, smiling back at you. “I had a really good evening, too.” His hands start to wring again. “And, I wouldn’t have run off. Don’t worry.”

You chuckle, a glint in your eyes. “Well, still. Thanks. For the company, tonight. And the conversation. And all of the new facts I’ve just learned about Italian cuisine.”

Spencer blushes. He shrugs, his hands moving to clutch at the strap of his messenger bag. “Glad to provide newfound knowledge, then,” he chuckles.

And before he can overthink it or second-guess himself, Spencer bends slightly, pressing a soft, feather-light kiss to your cheek. Your eyes go wide for just a moment before warmth floods your cheeks, and a grin that surpasses even sunshine itself takes over your face. You inhale shakily and unlock your door. You keep your eyes on Spencer as you step inside. “Thanks again,” you breathe. “I’ll um, I’ll text you?”

Spencer nods before beginning to walk backwards toward the elevator. He wishes you a good night and watches you slowly close your door.

He doesn’t step onto the elevator until he hears your door lock, and then he’s rushing back outside, into the pouring monsoon, before throwing himself into the backseat of the taxi.

The driver just laughs at him, at his cheeks all blotchy and red. Spencer clears his throat and awkwardly gives him his address.

He’s inside his apartment and toeing off his shoes when he realizes he never got your number.

Spencer freezes. He yanks his phone out of his bag with all the decorum of a deer in the road, and notices the abundance of missed texts from Garcia.

PG: How’s dinner going?? Is it awkward??? Did you say anything weird yet????

PG: Guess things are going well!! Don’t worry about the bill, it’s on me!!

PG: And DON'T COMPLAIN ABOUT THE WINE!!!!!!!

PG: Oh I’m SO excited to see your face tomorrow, Reid! I told you this was a good idea!

PG: Here’s her number, in case you were too stunned and totally in love with her to ask for it ;)

Spencer sighs, grateful for the inclusion of your number that saves him the awkward embarrassment of asking for it. He can’t keep the smile off his face as he adds it to his contacts, and types out a quick message. He sends it before he can talk himself out of it, and leaves his phone on the couch as he heads into his room to change.

Spencer: Hi, this is Spencer. Have a good night, and thanks again for dinner! It was really enjoyable. Hope you don’t mind me getting your number from Garcia, I only just noticed we hadn’t exchanged contact info :)

If Garcia ever asked, Spencer would deny it, but he runs out of his bedroom with his shirt still in his hand when he hears his phone buzz on the couch.

You: hey spencer! you have a good night too, dinner was super fun. you’re a fun conversationalist. and if you hadn’t gotten my number from pen, i would’ve asked her for yours, so don’t worry :)

He grins down at his phone before turning it off and pulling his shirt on. He brushes his teeth with a smile on his lips, crawls into bed with his face sore and his cheeks cramping, and begins to fall asleep to the sound of heavy rain pattering on his window.

It’s not until he’s curled up between the sheets, half asleep, that he realizes he hasn’t thought about work or cases all night.

Well then. Thank you, Penelope Garcia.

[crow-crystal]

DP x DC PROMPT

Waylon didn't plan this. He didn't plan to meet a kid in the sewers, and he certainly didn't plan on adopting the little tyke. Then again, the toddler kinda adopted him first. Danny was obviously a meta or something. No normal kid looked like a strange mix of fae and animal. Though the kid was happily calling himself a crocodile anytime someone asked what he was nowadays. It wasn't too long after Waylon adopted (Danny refused to leave and started calling him dad, so he gave up and accepted his fate) that another kid appeared. She was a spitfire, that was for sure, a little red-headed werewolf named Jazz. She was only a bit older than Danny, too.

Tucker is a meta (You decide the powers) and visits the family in the sewers with new random tech he makes. He was reborn in a nice (eh) part of gotham. His family chose to reincarnate with him, so they knew everything. They're just happy to enjoy trying things and jobs they didn't get to last life.

Sam is rich, again, much to her loathing. She's the daughter of a couple owning a company that is mostly focused on making things clean the earth (only reason she isn't seething), and also, she's a meta with control over plants. Her parents are infact ghosts that the group had befriended that happened to be planning on reincarnating anyway. They don't remember everything. Not everyone was allowed that, (ghost king Danny had privileges to ensure he didn't ignore infinite realms issues. Stupid Observants.) So Sam gets along swell with her new parents, and Tucker does as well.

Danny and Jazz end up being the reason Waylon gets an apartment. Its in crime ally, but hey, it's better than the sewers. (They still go down to the sewers. It's still their territory, their haunt. Plus, Uncle Grundy is there!) It makes it easier for Tucker to visit. (Tuck and his parents' visit for Thanksgiving and Christmas, Waylon has adult friends now, yay!).

Yada Yada, after a year or two passes, Danny gets summoned, and the Justice League is too late to stop it. Baby Danny is in ghost king regalia, confused, but before the Justice League can do anything, Jazz has already ripped open a portal (thanks wulf and cujo) and the heroes are facing a VERY angry werewolf pup and a PISSED Waylon Jones who's too busy picking his tired and disoriented ghost kid up and letting Jazz climb up his back while growling at the heroes to do anything else. Batman, in a rare sense of smartness, let's them leave without a word.

Batman may or may not be arguing with Jason about interrogating them, but eventually doesn't as a way to appease Jason and bc he knows the tired dad look waylon has.