#imagine those hands.... skilled fingers.. uh huh no stop

[pedro-pedrito-pascalito]

*chokes on water* "fuck!!"

[dottiechan]

ICEBREAKER Pt. 1

Read on AO3 (link in bio)

Part 1 | Part 2&3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader x Hunter; Tech x Reader (platonic)

Wordcount: 2389

Summary: Tech watches on helplessly as his brothers' affection for you threaten to ruin the squad.

Warnings: cursing, yearning

You’re just as cold on the inside as the ice is under your boots. It crunches with every step you take, and your heart seems to beat along with the fall of your boots, aching. You feel unsteady, almost enough to miss the tracks running in the snow right in front of you. You pause and crutch down, gloved fingers dipping into the indentations as you grumble to yourself. It’s not even your turn to scope out the area where you’re setting up camp, and besides, there is a literal tracking genius in your squad - it really shouldn’t be you who’s out here in the snow and ice, eyes straining against the blinding white of the planet, fingers freezing off as you set up perimeter alarms. And yet you just volunteered for the less than ideal task without explanation, not understanding your own decision either.

At least Tech offered to tag along, but you suspect he’s simply had enough of his brothers for a while. Not that you can blame him.

“Fascinating.”

You sigh, internally begging him to stop talking as you stand, abandoning the tracks after deciding they most likely belong to a lone whitefang. You have enough on your plate right now, with Hunter still being pissy and Crosshair avoiding you like the plague, and silence would be much more preferable right now to listening to one of Tech’s rambles.

“Did you know that this moon’s surface is almost entirely composed of water?”

“No.”

“Despite the subzero surface temperature, there are subsurface oceans underneath the ice that are warmed by the moon’s internal heat.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I wish we could stay long enough for me to study the subsurface flora and fauna. There might be plants underneath the ice that-”

“Tech.”

“-that use chemosynthesis-”

“Tech!”

“What?”

He has the decency to look flustered, one hand gripping the datapad tightly, the other flying up to adjust his goggles as he peers up at you. You didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but sometimes you just can’t help it. Sometimes, the confinement of the Marauder is enough to turn you into a ticking time bomb, irritated by the slightest seemingly innocent things. And you’ve had more than just mere sparks to flare your temper as of late.

...

His rifle is spotless, and yet he’s still scrubbing it as if his life depended on it.

Maybe it does, because if he jumps up and lowers his guard for a second, he’s out the ship and off to find you and Tech. Maybe you’re a fool sometimes, a god damn nuisance, a person he still couldn’t grow used to, but you belong with them now, you’re theirs, you’re his, and that means something to him. You frustrate him beyond reason, and he often grows callous and agitated because he refuses to allow himself to feel the emotions you elicit from him whenever you’re near him.

Even now, on an ice planet, the mere thought of you infects him with a sweet, sweet jungle fever that knocks him off his feet.

And he’s supposed to be angry now, Crosshair reminds himself. After all, you almost gotten yourself killed on Bracca, and almost broke him in the process.

“They’ve been gone for too long,” Hunter grumbles as he paces up and down like a caged nexu craving to run free. But lately Crosshair began to suspect that he craves something else, someone else, and the thought has his throat tightening in jealousy. He’s been watching, and he convinced himself that he’d misread the signs until he saw the same agitation reflect in his brother’s eyes that he himself has to wrestle with every day.

If it ever came down to your choice, he knows he wouldn’t be it, and he hates living with this knowledge.

Hunter has all the things you seem to like - unlimited kindness, longing looks, smirks that turn a little too soft when directed at you, broad shoulders he caught you staring at more times than he can count. Deep down, he’s still hoping it will never come to you having to choose, but it’s impossible not to wish to be in the centre of your attention. You drive him insane, but you also make him want to commit and stop fighting and lay down his weapons for once in his god damn life.

“Relax. They’re probably fine.”

The screen to their left lights up, and Hunter rushes across the ship in long strides before exhaling in relief. “The proximity alarms are online. They should be heading back soon.”

Crosshair sucks in a breath, worried about seeing his own emotions sitting behind Hunter’s eyes as well.

...

You were assigned to assist the Bad Batch for an unspecified period of time some months ago. You’re a versatile field agent, specialising in both stealth and combat casualty care, one of the few volunteers who were qualified enough to join the GAR. Oh, and you’re also clearly mistrusted by your new squad as they flip out the very moment you risk yourself in the line of duty. You’re not stupid, you weighed the risks carefully, and you trusted your abilities to see you through the job unharmed.

But ever since the incident on Bracca, you’re given the cold shoulder by most on the squad, and for once, the scenery matches your mood.

And yet Tech deserves better than to be cut off like that. He deserves to be listened to, and appreciated as the good man he is. You’re friends, but in moments like these, you think you don’t deserve his friendship.

“Look, I’m... I’m sorry, okay? But right now, I have too much on my mind to think about, umm, chemo...”

“Chemosynthesis?”

“Yeah, that.”

“I think I understand,” he nods, satisfied with your half-assed apology for the time being as he goes back to scanning the vast icy desert stretching as far as the eye can see. The Marauder’s lights blink in the background, orange against the dark blue of the growing darkness that surrounds you. It’s like a beacon, a sign that promises warmth, and you gaze at it longingly until you remember that you’ll have to go back to Crosshair’s scowl and Hunter’s disapproving frown and Wrecker’s awkward little smiles. Somehow, the ice is preferable once more, and the snow that just began to fall in soft flakes is little more than a mild annoyance.

“Well, aside from a few distant life forms-”

“Whitefangs.”

“Yes, most likely whitefangs - aside from those, we should be quite safe inside the ship for tonight.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “You might be. I’m not the most popular with the squad right now, remember?”

“You are a valued addition,” Tech declares, and the certainty in his voice releases inside you the emotional equivalent of a sucker punch. All you can do is stand, and fight the sting of tears in your eyes. You’re confident, but you never in your wildest dreams imagined how difficult it would be to live up to the expectations of a special unit. You also know your worth, but it’s hard to keep on believing in yourself steadfastly when the rest of your squad doubts your every move. “Which is why the prospect of losing you elicits a rather severe emotional reaction in us. It is rare for regs to warm up to us as well as you have, let alone volunteers. Aside from the obvious tactical disadvantage losing you would mean, I believe it is a little more personal than that.”

...

Hunter knows something is off even before one of the alarms is triggered - whatever it is, it is within five clicks of the ship, making you and Tech plenty exposed before he could do anything. He was straining his ear simply to keep you all safe - so what if he accidentally heard your muffled voice, or the soft crunch of snow underneath your boots?

But now is not the time to be idle, and he knows it. He would never forgive himself if something happened to his squad. And to you, he corrects himself almost softly as he grabs his helmet and checks his weapons quickly. Despite the fact that he’s still angry about your previous carelessness, he cannot deny the forbidden yearning coiling in his stomach whenever you’re on his mind, making him just as nervous as hopeful. And to be fair, it happens more and more often as of late, which is both alarming and exciting as he never thought he’d ever have the luxury to feel this way about someone else. Sure, he knows love, he loves his brothers with all his heart even if he isn’t very vocal about it, but this is different. New, scary, exciting different, an effervescent and persevering tingling blinding all his senses.

Crosshair is beside him in less than a second, rifle in hand, silent, and they share a nod before lowering the ramp and rushing out into the freezing dusk.

When he picks up on your muffled voice, he seems to ignore everything as he breaks into a sprint towards you, hoping to reach you in time before you’re in danger. He almost misses the way Crosshair’s heartbeat picks up, the usually stoic man reeking with genuine worry as he looks through the scope of his rifle.

He can deal with this later, Hunter promises himself as he pushes down this uncomfortable feeling. But then he sees you and Tech, and he seems to forget about anything and everything - you have that unfortunate and awfully distracting effect on him.

...

“But Hunter yelled at me for being reckless for a solid hour. And Crosshair said he didn’t care if I wanted to get myself killed, but I should do it in a way that didn’t interfere with the mission. Seriously, what an asshole.”

“Nevermind what they actually say,” Tech waves his hand in mild annoyance. “Hunter was worried sick. Crosshair almost went after you. And they’re both too pigheaded to admit the real reason why they’re so worked up.”

“Which is?”

“Obviously they both view you as a potential romantic partner.”

There’s a moment of pause as you two stare back at one another before you snort and chuckle, shaking your head and crossing your arms over your chest as a futile attempt at staying warm. “Tech, you need to work on your sense of humour.”

“And you need to work on your observational skills and situational awareness.”

“My observational skills are exceptional,” you defend yourself, a finger held up in the air defiantly. “And my situational awareness is-”

“Lacking, as you didn’t seem to notice the whitefang return. I suggest we head back to the safety of the Marauder.”

Sure enough, the wild cat is there lurking amongst the ice dunes, its eyes glowing in the dark as they reflect the light of the ship. It shouldn’t pose a threat to you as it is alone, and relatively small, but you still consider wrestling with it instead of returning to the ship and facing the rest of the squad - somehow, even that feels like a fight more fair than the ones that await you upon your return. So you hold its gaze as it curiously inspects you, wishing to swap bodies and run away and avoid any more conflict. Before you can even think of returning to the ship, you hear quiet footsteps catching up to you.

“I thought I heard something.”

“It’s probably more curious than anything.”

Hunter unsheaths his vibroblade and twirls it in his hand so theatrically it makes you roll your eyes. He glances at you, shoulders all tense, ready to pounce at the slightest sign of danger, and even though his face is obscured by his helmet, you can almost see the disappointed frown sitting on his features. “You want to test that theory?”

“My money would be on the whitefang winning.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Tech.”

“Any time.”

“Relax.” The distorted rasp of your commlink is not enough to drown out the smugness of the sniper. The stand-off ends when a single well-placed shot right before the big cat sends it sprinting away into the darkness. You all turn to find Crosshair standing by the ship, his rifle still aimed at the retreating form of the whitefang.

“Well, there goes my opportunity to finally have an interesting patrol,” you mutter to yourself as you all make it back to the Marauder.

“Do all of your patrols end in you staring down carnivores?” Crosshair snorts, clearly unamused.

“Only the good ones,” you fire back, deciding not to wait for any of them as you head inside. Crosshair is hot on your heels, another string of mockery sitting on the tip of his tongue, because fuck, you’re stubborn, but he’s not going to cave in and tell you how it makes him feel to see you in danger. He can’t, however, put up with being away from you either.

Hunter lingers a little outside. He has to set himself straight, to contain all the things he wants to say you that have nothing to do with scolding you about Bracca, to kill all the feelings that suddenly demand to be felt so desperately. He clenches and unclenches his fists by his side, pretending to survey the surroundings of the Marauder. Tech moves in the periphery of his vision, but instead of following you and Crosshair, he steps closer to Hunter.

“I believe the threat’s been averted.”

“Yeah. Good job on setting up those alarms, Tech.”

“No problem. Is there anything else you need?”

“No. You should head back inside. The last thing I want is for you to keel over with hypothermia.”

“That’s not how hypothermia works,” Tech mutters, his voice trailing off, eyes uncertain behind his goggles. He suddenly places a gentle hand on Hunter’s shoulder, making the sergeant glance at him.

“Hunter, I’m only asking this because I care about you all, but... how long do you think this can go on before one of you gets hurt?”

Tech’s words echo in his mind long after he’s rejoined the squad on the ship. And Hunter just stands outside in the snowfall, watching the last rays of light disappear on the horizon, wondering which one of you he’ll have to hurt when the push comes to shove.

[tulsa-trash]

Book Swap

Request: could you do a modern!pony x reader imagine where you're both in 9th grade and meet at the library, and one day you finally have the guts to ask for his number, so you guys start texting and then you start crushing on him and then you have to figure out how to tell him, so u ask two-bit and johnny for advice

WARNING(S): N/A

You sighed deeply as you began to reread the same sentence in your book for what felt like the twentieth time. It seemed as though you were reading but not even comprehending the words. To be fair, it was impossible to get lost in a book when a familiar cute boy was sitting a table over from you.

Ponyboy Curtis. How does one even begin to describe the amazing human you had the honor of being within five feet of? Unlike most guys in high school, Pony was something special. He was kind and very smart, you knew this because you have English with him. You've never seen someone so into a class before, he also appeared to have an interest in literature, like you. The both of you were nothing but mere acquaintances, and you secretly wished you could change that.

It didn't help that you found him absolutely dreamy. His brown hair was always a little messy, but it still managed to make him even cuter. You always feel your heart skip a beat whenever your eyes would meet his sparkling green ones in the hallways. You'd smile whenever you'd see him laughing with his friends, it showed off his dimples that sunk into his cheeks. Ponyboy Curtis was the boy of your dreams, and the young man was completely oblivious.

Your phone vibrated on the desk you were sitting at. Glancing up from your book, you seen that it was a text from one of your friends. After placing your bookmark in between the pages you unlocked your phone.

Evie: So? Did you talk to him yet?

You rolled your eyes after reading the message, your fingers quickly tapped at the screen as you typed your response.

Y/N: No obviously not. Now leave me alone.

Kathy: Girl go for it! He's a nice kid you said so yourself.

Y/N: Uh nope. Much rather stare at him from afar and not make a fool of myself attempting to talk to him.

Kathy: Well if you don't not only will I embarrass you in front of lover boy, everyone in this library will see me screaming at you and we'll both probably get kicked out.

Y/N: Wait what? How do you know I'm at the library?? Are you here right now???

Kathy: Look over at the fantasy section you nerd. You being you I obviously knew where YOU would be on a Saturday afternoon.

You looked up, eyes widening in shock as you saw your friend hiding behind a bookshelf watching you with a sly grin.

Kathy: Make a move now or I'm coming over there.

With already shaking hands you put your phone in your pocket and grabbed your book. You sent Kathy a pleading look, but all she did was shake her head and point towards Ponyboy violently. Taking in a deep breath, you got up. The chair scraped against the floor, creating a loud noise which made at least five people look up at you... including him.

"Oh god." You mumbled under your breath.

In your peripheral vision you could see Ponyboy's gaze return to his book, taking that as your cue to move you slowly crept to his table. You had made it to the chair directly across from him, he was so caught up in his book he didn't even notice your presence. You smiled softly, his eyebrows were furrowed in concentration while his eyes scanned the pages back and forth. You awkwardly cleared your throat, not too loud to disturb others but just enough for him to tear his attention from his book to notice you.

"Oh, hey." Ponyboy said, "Can I help you with somethin'?"

"Um..." Jesus this was going to be way harder than you thought. "W-Would you mind if I sat with ya?"

"Not at all. Go ahead." He sent you a friendly smile as he gestured to the chair you were at.

His smile. Your legs already feel like jello, you could've sworn you were going to collapse right then in there.

"Y/N, right?" He asked as you sat down.

"That's me. And you're Ponyboy."

"Yep, couldn't forget a name like that if you tried." He joked.

You giggled as you opened your book, Ponyboy returned to his. Curiosity got the better of you when you looked back up to see what he was reading.

"Gone With the Wind." You read aloud.

"Have you read it before?" He asked.

You shook your head, "I haven't, but I've heard only good things about it. I saw the movie about a year ago and thought it was great."

"The book is amazing!" He gushed, only to be shushed by the librarian walking by. "This is my fifth time reading it." He told you in a more hushed tone.

You snickered, "Must be really great."

"What ya got there?"

You lifted up your book from the table to reveal the cover to him, his bright eyes scanned the cover.

"The Boy in Striped Pajamas?"

"I know the title seems a bit odd, but trust me this is a good read." You told him, "This being my third time reading it."

"Well what's it about?" He asked.

You went on to tell him about your book, and he went on to tell you all about his. The both of you began to talk about anything and everything, you were beyond happy that things were going well. You were having so much fun you completely forgot about Kathy spying on you, before either of you could realize it two hours had gone by.

You peaked at your phone and cursed under your breath, the lock screen had a reminder that your shift at work was starting in less than thirty minutes.

"I really hate to end this... but I gotta go." You said.

"That sucks." He said disappointedly.

You couldn't help feeling a little giddy inside to see that he was upset you were leaving. While you got up and gathered your things, you remembered that you wanted to get his phone number badly. You just had to figure out a way to get it without making things awkward.

"Hey, Pone?"

He hummed in response.

"What do ya say we swap books... and numbers? Thats only if you want to. I just figured since we read them already and it was cool talk--"

"I'd like that." He stopped your rambling, only to send you a warm smile while doing so.

You blushed as the both of you swapped phones to put in each others information along with handing each other your books. With a final wave goodbye you left the library, your best friend of course followed after you. She interrogated you with thousands of questions and the both of you walked to work, you gladly answered them all in an almost dazed state. You felt as if you were walking on air for the rest of the day, and you couldn't wait to text him later on.

-

Two weeks had gone by, and let's just say those two weeks have been the best ones of your life. You and Ponyboy had been texting every single day. At first you just talked about each other's books, but then your conversations started evolve to anything and everything. You knew you had liked him before, but your feelings for him have grown drastically. It was beginning to get unbearable holding in how you truly felt, and you weren't sure if you wanted to tell him.

The fear of rejection was one of the main reasons why you've been thinking of just repressing your feelings. Sure, he seemed to like you, but it felt as though he only liked you simply as a friend. Another reason being you were afraid that it would ruin things between the both of you. You had finally become good friends, the last thing you wanted was for everything to end up being awkward all because of you and your silly crush.

After a lot of thinking you decided you needed some advice, and by advice you mean advice thats not only from Kathy. She keeps telling you to go for it, but she doesn't really know Ponyboy well. That's why you got the idea to ask one of his buddies on their opinion. Luckily Pony invited you to watch him and his friends play football. You ceased the opportunity, not only would you be able to watch the boy of your dreams get all sweaty and tuff looking, you could also get one of his friends alone to talk about how you felt.

It was a warm, Sunday morning in Tulsa. The sun was high in the sky and beat down harshly on the group of boys tackling each other in the giant field. You sat under a tree with a notebook in your lap, a cool breeze would rush by every now and then, cooling you off the slightest. You doodled randomness on the blank pages, sketching pictures and honing your writing skills. Every now and then you would glance up and watch the game for a few, sometimes cheering the boys on or laughing when they began to goof off and wrestle each other on the ground.

There was a particular drawing you found yourself enthralled in, as the pencil in your hand smoothly ran across the paper you found yourself sketching a picture of Ponyboy's face. You were so focused you didn't even notice someone come over and take a seat right beside you.

"Nice drawin' you got there." A quiet voice spoke.

You quickly slammed the notebook closed and snapped you head to the right, it was Ponyboy's best friend, Johnny. A tiny smirk was tugging at his lips as he looked at you with one eyebrow raised.

"T-Thanks." You stuttered nervously.

"You like him, huh?" He asked you.

You stood silent as you played with the grass below you, pulling it from the Earth and rubbing it between your fingers. Your gaze was straight ahead watching the game, you were afraid to meet Johnny's gaze that was burning holes into the side of your head.

"Yes..." You hesitated a bit, "I do."

"Does he know?"

"No!" You said hopelessly, "And I'm not sure if I even want him to know."

"Why not?"

"Because he probably doesn't feel the same..." You trailed off.

"Hey now, ya never know." Johnny said.

"What are you two kiddies doin' over here?" A loud voice bellowed.

It was none other than Two-Bit, he staggered over to the both of you before plopping down to your left. He was breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his forehead and trickling down his neck.

"You tryin' to make moves on Pony's girl or somethin', John?" Two asked playfully.

Your heart fluttered, 'Pony's girl.'

"No way, man. Trust me." Johnny chuckled.

"Pony's girl?" You repeated to him questioningly.

"Oh yeah! I see the way y'all look at each other I ain't blind."

You let Two's words sink in, was it that obvious that you liked him? He even said that Pony looks at you a certain way as well. Maybe there was a chance he shared your feelings after all.

"You think he likes me or somethin'?" You asked casually.

"Oh I don't think, I know."

You smiled softly, butterflies erupting in your stomach. In the back of your mind you worried that you were getting your hopes up a little too high, but you couldn't help it.

"I like him too." You admitted.

Two-Bit scoffed, "Tell me somethin' I don't know."

"Well... what should I do?"

"Tell him." Two replied.

"I agree." Johnny piped up.

Both nerves and excitement began to bubble up inside you as you got up and gathered your things.

"Where are you off to?" Johnny asked as you began to jog away from them.

"Gotta head home. Tell Ponyboy I'm sorry I had to leave but I'll text him later!"

"See ya later lover girl!" Two-Bit hollered after you while preceding to make kissing noises.

You laughed to yourself and shook your head, "Idiot."

-

Y/N: Whats up Pone-bone?

Ponyboy: Nothing much lil lady, and yourself?

Y/N: Same. Btw sorry for leaving so soon today, had some things to do.

Ponyboy: It's alright.

Hey what were you, Johnny and Two talking about? They didn't try to tease you or nothin right?

Y/N: Nooo ofc not they were just chattin

But thats actually what I wanted to talk to you about...

Ponyboy: Well... Go on then

Y/N: Okay I'm just gonna say it

I like you

like a lot

Ponyboy: As a friend or?

Y/N: No silly, like more than friends...

Ponyboy: Wait actually?

Y/N: Yes Pony

Ponyboy: Seriously??

Y/N: OMG YES!!

I LIKE YOU A LOT!

... im sorry if it weirds you out

Ponyboy: NO! NO IT DOESN'T.

SORRY

... Just wanted to make sure this isn't a prank or whatever.

But in all seriousness yes, I like you a whole lot.

Y/N: Are you sure?

Ponyboy: Positive doll

Do you wanna grab some milkshakes at the Dingo next weekend?

Y/N: Are you asking me out onna date Curtis?

Ponyboy: Yes, I am ;)

Y/N: Well I would love to :)

[notmrskennedy]

Friendliness

A/N - ha so i just wrote this - no editing we die like men. here’s the alternate ending to my other post Likeability (this one is the more predictable one y’all will probably like whoops) if you’ve read the other one, just skip to the end it’s all the same in the middle 

Summary - The Team meets a very unfriendly scientist which Spencer’s taken a fancy to

W/C - 2.9k (whoops)

Warnings - Mild Anatomy/bones/etc discussion, a pinch and change of swearing

----

Luke is holding his stomach in his hands. He could usually pride himself on keeping his cool, keeping his head—and stomach—together during a case. He’d seen enough dead bodies that this shouldn’t have thrown him like he’d just sailed twelve foot waves in a dingy. 

But he is, after all, standing over a mass grave. Watching a too giddy scientist dig up the bodies. 

You’ve captured everyone’s attention, for various reasons. Rossi is vaguely amused by your joyous shouting of bones and your rat moustached assistant. Luke can’t tear his eyes away from the car wreck—are you supposed to swing bones around like baseball bats? Reid seems more interested in your bad jokes and coveralls than he is in solving the case. 

The rat assistant—Stewart Walsh—squeezes between Luke and Reid, scuttling like some kind of diseased turtle. “Doctor Y/L/N!”

You barely stop pouring over the mud covered pelvis in your hands to even acknowledge him. 

“I just thought you should know that Dr. Evanston just got here.”

You look up, toss the bone to him, and snort. “Tell him the soil samples are four miles due east from here.”

“What’s wrong with Evanston?” Luke asks to no one in particular it seems, waving Stewart off to run for a group of approaching nerds in coveralls. 

Ignoring the question or maybe Luke, you just turn back to your search. Elbow deep in mud, being nice must not have been on the to-do list. Reid leans over, hands in his pockets, and whispers, “Evanston stole one of her research papers. I thought he was going to get his teeth kicked in—“

“Skull!” you holler. Luke isn’t stupid enough to miss the glare reserved for the sheepish Dr. Reid.

He clears his throat. “Thoughts so far, doctor?”

“I’m thinking beetles,” is all you say before turning back to your skull. Luke might not know many scientists, but he doesn’t think that most of them look at human skulls like its the Mona Lisa. Like this fat piece of bone held the answers to the universe inside its empty eye sockets. 

“Beetles?” Luke coughs. Rossi just shakes his head. Pretends this isn’t a conversation he’s having. Reid is still studying you like Luke might study infiltration schematics. Stewart runs up, out of breath, very rose coloured. 

You’re eyes are sparkling as you wade over to them with a new radius bone in your hands. Everyone bends like they know what they’re looking at and you point along the edge of the bone. “It’s a subtle difference but these bones have been cleaned before being buried. My guess is carrion beetles. They’re very hard workers. And—“ you switch to pointing at the radial head— “minute scoring and kerf marks. These look pretty old, so I’m assuming we’re getting close to the bottom.”

“So our unsub dismembered his victims,” Rossi begins, “then cleaned the pieces?”

You nod and hand off the bone to a very blushing Stewart. “I won’t know for sure until I’ve had a chance to examine all the bones. There’s nothing definitive yet. What a hobbyist though, right?”

You chuckle to yourself and dive back into fishing out more finger and wrist bones. Luke turns, runs his hands over his face, and hikes a thumb over his shoulder. “Where did we find her?”

Rossi shrugs, “FBI easter egg hunt.” Luke blinks, while Rossi chuckles at his gullibility. “Come on, the doctor’s the best in the field. Good kid, I can tell.” 

“Y/N’s great,” Spencer absently adds on, too busy staring at you. You’re explaining different types of dismemberment to Stewart like you’re discussing the rain. Luke grips onto his stomach just a little tighter. 

“Y/N, huh?” Luke teases, momentarily forgetting the unsettling feeling in his gut about you. “You two, uh, friends or something?”

It’s Reid’s turn to stumble. “Yeah, but it’s—we’re just—we’re just—.” 

Rossi shakes his head, slaps Reid on the shoulder. “Oh yeah, just friends. So, tell me. Do you talk about dismemberment before or after you make out?”

#

JJ wants to beg Emily not to make her go down into the basement. You’re down there. She knows it’s childish to be this avoidant—you are just a person after all. A creepy, psychopathic weirdo that makes JJ’s gut churn. She gets why Spencer’s taken to you—shared love of science and random trivia. She does. But that doesn’t mean JJ enjoys the cold ass morgue, smiling along as you ramble. Most of everyone’s limited contact with you has involved random facts and Stewart’s too intimate knowledge of fracture patterns. 

There had been ten minutes of reassurance from Emily that you were, in fact, not a horrible person. Ended with JJ making the cold and dark trek down to the morgue. She couldn’t imagine working down here all day long. No one to talk to, no one to strategise with, no where to go. Maybe it suited you. No one would have to listen. 

“—don’t know what to do!” echoes across the bottom of the stairwell, the morgue’s doors cracked open. The distress breaks JJ’s heart. Your voice stops her dead in her tracks.  

“They don’t hate you,” Spencer’s voice comes after. Gentler, softer. “They—they just don’t know you yet.”

“They don’t want to, Spence!” and JJ winces with the words. It always hurt more when the truth came out in that tone. “I get it! You know? I work with human remains and don’t bring my people skills with me when I’m on the job, but—that shouldn’t matter!” 

JJ winces again, tries to ignore how those are nothing short of teary sniffles echoing through her ears. She leans back against the wall and has no idea what to do. Spencer had obviously been down here for hours. Knew you well enough to get the teary truth. What could she do now? Interrupt? 

She’d walked into hostage situations less freakin’ stressful than this. 

“You’re right,” Spencer soothes, steadfast and strong, “it doesn’t matter. This isn’t—“

“It’s not your fault,” you sigh. JJ doesn’t want to hear the strangled touch to your voice. Doesn’t want to hear the break. “They’re your friends and I’m just your—“ 

 “Doctor!” Stewart calls and JJ could scream. You’re his what? 

At least, it’s as good as any moment to intrude. 

“What, Stewart?” you snapped, already broken away from Spencer with wet cheeks and stained glasses. You wipe them off haphazardly with the tail end of Spencer’s sweater sleeve—JJ couldn’t help but smile, even if it’s a little strangled. 

Stewart jumps like a wet cat and tosses a bundle of files into your hands. “Beetles.”

One word snatches the tears from your face. Snatches you away from Spencer’s side for one of the dozen skeletons on the tables. There was no reason to think that she’ll get her report from you now. With a rib bone in one hand and contemplation in your features—JJ can’t decide how unnerved she is—you’re a little too concentrated. 

Stewart scuttles around you. A little too attentive. A little too cherry tinted. Yep. No reports to be had from either of you. JJ turned to Spencer instead, hoping that maybe he’d be helpful. Plastered up like a billboard, JJ knows that saccharine smile isn’t going to get her anywhere. 

“Spence?”

He hums, halfheartedly tearing his eyes away. “Yeah?”

“I need the latest report for Emily, but I don’t think—“

“I’ll—just a second, JJ.” Spencer grins, sugary sweet, and slips away. JJ doesn’t miss how he places a hand on your shoulder as he passes. How you barely even notice that quite intimate contact. She also doesn’t miss how Stewart’s face sours at the action, how his eyes narrow enough that Spencer feasibly should’ve noticed. 

Reports in hand a minute later, JJ leans over to Spencer. Elbows him in the arm. “Stewart seems pretty jealous. Any reason for that?”

Spencer shrugs. “Wouldn’t know a thing about it.”

#

Rossi doesn’t have an opinion. Everyone keeps asking—oh Rossi, you’re the wisest of us all, what should we do about poor little Y/N? He doesn’t know, doesn’t care. You are just some scientist who is doing a thousand percent better job than any other forensics ‘expert’ he’s had the pleasure of working with. 

Your lab doesn’t smell. You don’t smell. Is there anything more to ask for? 

But he does get the brute of having to make the trek down to the morgue—god, his knees alone—and receives most of the reports from the not as horrible as everyone thinks Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. Who is joyfully humming while squinting over one of the skeleton’s hands. 

“Hey, doc,” he calls and you look up at him with an adorable sort of grin. “Got anything new?”

“Sure,” you chirp. Hesitate to wave him over. “If you want the details, that is.”

Rossi shakes his head, pulls up a stool to sit next to you and your subject. “I like to have as much knowledge as I can. You never know what will lead you to your un-sub.”

You settle your elbows on the table, straighten a stray finger bone. The team shouldn’t be worried about you being a psychopath. You’re dedicated, careful, attentive. Rossi hopes that if he ever gets turned into human remains, you’re the one looking over him. There’s been more care put into one skeleton than into his three combined marriages. 

“You’re in luck,” you answer, “I’ve got a lot to tell you about our attacker. You’ve got time, right?”

Rossi nods, smiles. “Plenty.”

#

Penelope still hasn’t met you and that kind of pisses her off. You haven’t made it upstairs once? She flies into some dingy Wyoming hovel of a police station for like a week and no one’s thought to bring you upstairs? Rude. 

She’s sitting in JJ’s desk chair, waiting for her and Luke to get back from interviewing a potential lead—some ex-felon who fit your makeshift profile. Reid’s scouring over some boring geographical profile, trying not to get annoyed as she nervously—angrily—rants about the case to him. She knows he’s tuning her out, but her work’s been put on the back burner until someone comes up with something to give her. 

There’s only so much a computer can find and she’s no profiler. 

It’s about five minutes after Reid snapped and left to get a coffee refill, when she picks up a call from the desk. “Hello?”

Creaking metal and shuddering breathing comes first. “Set the scalpel down” comes second.  She swallows, silent, and panicking. What the heck is she supposed to do? Paying attention to those hostage negotiation seminars that she definitely didn’t go to would’ve come in handy right about now. 

Said scalpel clatters onto some metal table, followed by a strong, “You really don’t want to do this. Please put the gun down.”

Oh god, this is happening. 

“You just—“ a male voice snips, bellowing out, “YOU DON’T LOOK AT ME.”

“I do look at you, Stewart,” you plead just as JJ and Luke clamour through the bullpen’s door. Penelope puts the call on speaker, mutes it, and screams for them. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Penelope sobs professionally, “someone’s got a gun.”

JJ runs for Emily’s office while Reid returns heedlessly. Luke puts a soft hand on Penelope’s cold one and squeezes. Newbie or not, it’s appreciated as the man’s voice returns. “I’ve tried for so long to get you to—to just—just look at me! I’ve done so much!”

“I know, Stewart,” you ease and Reid tenses. Nearly drops his coffee. “It’s not your fault. You’ve worked so hard.”

“Yeah,” Stewart sobs; Penelope can only imagine how crazy this kid must be. 

“Did you leave all those bodies for me, Stewart?” you question and everyone holds their breath. Luke squeezes harder on her hand. Reid’s twitching like a rabbit’s nose, a death grip on his mug, frozen as a Michigan pond. 

Stewart sniffles. Probably nods. Penelope doesn’t know whether to run or sit or cry. She decides it’s probably cry, but instead her fingers start moving to record the call, trace the office origin. 

“It was a great puzzle, Stewart, it was really genius. It was a fun case to follow, you know that.” You swallow hard, metal tinkles through the speaker. Please, Penelope begs, don’t let them kill each other. I haven’t met the doctor yet!

“Why did you kill these girls, Stewart?” your voice is so gentle and lulling Penelope almost forgets that she’s listening to you try to save your own life. 

 “I wanted you to look,” he says, sniffles. “I wanted you. I want you, Y/N. I want you to love me.”

It’s either her computer beeping or someone falling through a table or a gunshot. She doesn’t know. She’s crying too hard to care. 

#

Tara doesn’t know when she started to run—probably just after JJ, Luke, and Reid barrelled passed her by the bathroom shouting about the situation—but she’s almost to the morgue doors, right on Reid’s heels. Lord almighty, she feels so stupid. She’d had enough little one on one chats with Stewart to know he was some sort of psycho in disguise. To know that something was wrong with that kid. No one could last more than three minutes with your grad student assistant without wanting to take an eyeball out—his or theirs it didn’t matter. She’d let herself believe you when you told her that all forensic anthropologists seem like that. That there was nothing to worry about. 

Nothing to worry about her ass. 

Luke’s the first to storm the morgue, expecting what Tara is: you, dead, on the floor with Stewart on the brink of killing himself. But they stop and they stare and Reid beams on with the absurd look on your face. 

You’re shaking with rage, pointing a gun at a very unconscious, crumpled, bleeding Stewart Walsh. Your teeth are bared in what Tara would consider out of a comic book—ludicrous and of someone who’s completely lost their mind. JJ makes the mistake of asking if you’re alright.

“Alright?” you chirp, feral and ravenous. JJ and Luke shrink back as you shout, “I lived in Honduras for three years! This isn’t even the worst thing that’s happened to me. It’s my third fucking kidnapping!”

“T-third?” Luke croaks. 

“Third!” you shout again and recklessly set your gun on the table. Spencer grins, which sets you off further. “I’ve been nice. I’ve been accommodating. But this is my fourth psychotic grad student! I fucking swear—!”

Stewart groans—thank god he’s alive—and Spencer, thankfully, rushes forward to catch you before you can take anything else out on the kid. Tara’s heard rumours about mysterious other instances of your being under arrest. Illegal transportation of goods was one thing, police brutality was another. The scalpel sticking out of his knee is bad enough. 

She helps Luke haul Stewart to his feet, reeking of desperation and a much needed psych eval. JJ follows close behind, closes the morgue doors behind them. But not before they hear your muffled sobs and Spencer’s smiling. 

“You got him, Y/N.”

“No, Spence,” you correct, and Tara can’t help but be proud, “I kicked the snot out of him.”

#

Emily is barely awake when she sees it. JJ’s soft breathing next to her is lulling by itself, let alone if you add in Rossi’s rhythmic snoring and Luke’s idle whispers of sleep talk. Emily could do with some sleep and maybe a few days off. They could all use a few days off, especially after coming to terms with the fact a grad student had killed 12 women just to get a little action. 

From a scientist who freely admitted to enjoying the company of bones over real people. 

Alive people. 

No wonder Stewart had done what he’d done. 

Emily turns in her spot, lays back against the wall of the airplane and the seat. After nearly five decades—she’s never thinking about that again—of plane rides, she can comfortably say she can sleep anywhere. With any amount of noise, or cold, or pain. 

But her eyes are accidentally open when she peaks around the seat cushion. Spies the Wild Dr. Reid in his natural habitat, reading some ridiculously long book and…carding his fingers through your hair? He’s got a lock curled up around his finger, gently twisting it as he reads. You’re sleeping—knocked the fuck out—in his lap, gripping loosely onto his leg. 

You deserve the sleep, Emily decides with a smile. You’d worked the hardest on the case, up for nearly four days with as little rest as you can manage. How Stewart managed to stay awake enough to attack you is beyond Emily. She’s missed out on a few hours just today and she’s losing the battle with her eyelids. 

No one ever asked her opinion of you. Probably didn’t have to. You were not the easiest to like, but you’d captured her respect and a bit of her heart when you’d said at the beginning of the case: “I’m an excavator by trade—I’m at archeological digs most of the time—so it’s hard to wrap my head around the fact that these ladies are murder victims. I don’t think I’ll sleep until I’ve got names for them. And maybe the murderer on my table.”

Emily understood the unease, the apprehension. Why everyone was relieved when you’d turned down the plane ride she’d offered you. How they all bit back groans when Emily had insisted. But they’ll have to get used to it, Emily thinks and she settles again. Because they’ll see you again. No doubt about it. The way you’re wrapped up around Spencer, how you hold tighter when the jet bounces a touch, says just that much anyway. 

[howlingday]

The Hall

"This is my favorite room." Jaune said, trying to hide his excitement. He opened the door of the large building behind the house. It was half as tall, but twice as long, and the wood and stone framing told Nora it was old, but not frail. "The Arc Hall of Heroes!"

Nora gasped in amazement at the room. "Wow! It's so... dark!"

"Oh, hang on." Jaune slapped the wall by the door until he found the light switch. He flipped it on and the lights illuminated the hall, momentarily blinding the two. "Now behold!"

Nora ran from display to display before running back to Jaune. "What is this?" She asked, bouncing. "A weapon museum?"

"Better! This is the Arc Hall of Heroes, a building dedicated to the greatest heroes of Remnant!"

"Wow!" Nora ran to the first display she visited before, only this time she dragged Jaune with her. It was a large circle, made of wood except for the edge of metal and the metal circle in the center. The man in the portrait behind the display was a large man, his arms covered in tattoos and scars, and his beard curled all the way down to his tummy. "What's that?!"

"That's Tyrson," Jaunr explained, "he belonged to Jol Arc. He used to sail all over Remnant, fighting sea monsters to protect merchants! They say his shield could block thunder itself!"

"Wow! Thunder itself?! That sounds amazing!"

"I mean, I don't know how true it is. I mean, thunder is a sound. How can you block sound with a shi-" Nora pushed her finger against his lips.

"No smartie. Only cooly!" Jaune sighed as she dragged him to the next display; a long stick with a blade making up one quarter of it's length. The woman's portrait behind the display was beautiful, with long, flowing blonde hair and she was riding on the back of a horse-like Grimm.

"This is Zhúzhi," Jaune began, "she belonged to Hua, who was skilled in cavalry combat."

"Wow... Cavalry combat! That's so cool!"

Jaune smirked. "Yeah, it kind of is."

"One question, though."

"What is it?"

"What's a cavalry?"

Jaune almost tripped over himself. "Uh, cavalry is horse-back riding, Nora."

"Oh..." Nora looked to the painting again. "I don't like that horse, though."

"It's just a painting, Nora. It can't hurt you."

"Yeah." Nora looked to the ground. She felt silly being afraid of something that can't hurt you. But the horse made her feel scared for some reason.

Jaune wrapped his arms around Nora, and rubbed her back. "It's okay, though. I'll keep you safe." Nora hugged him back, knocking the wind from his lungs.

"Thank you." Nora released him and they walked together to the next display, a large gun with two muzzles that were as long as the stock itself. The woman in the portrait behind the display wore a black eye-patch, a black Stetson hat, and was wearing black lipstick. Under her portrait was her name, 'Abigail 'Abi' Arc.' "What's that?" Nora asked, pointing at the large number under her name.

"That's a bounty, Nora." She gave him a confused look. "It's a lot of money they give people for catching bad guys."

"Wow! So she got this much money for every bad guy she caught?"

"Not... exactly." Jaune winced as he spoke. "See, she was kind of, sort of... wanted."

"Well, if people wanted her, they should have just asked her."

"No, I mean she was..." Jaune sighed. "She was a bad guy, Nora." He looked at the display, watching his reflection speak in the glass. "She broke the law, and because of that, she became a bad guy."

"What laws did she break?"

"Uh, let's see..." Jaune read the list on the wanted poster, "murder, destruction of government property, theft of private property, grand larceny, assaulting an officer, and loitering."

"Wow!" Nora exclaimed. Jaune was beginning to think it was going to be her new favorite word. "Why'd she do all that? I mean, those are a lot of things to do as a bad guy."

"Well, I don't think she was a bad guy. That stolen property thing was talking about Faunus, or that's what Dad tells me. So, she was breaking the law because the law was bad, so that makes her a good guy by doing bad guy things to bad laws."

Nora's head spun. "What?"

"She was a good guy. The law was just dumb."

"Oh! Well, why didn't you just say it like that?" She lightly punched his shoulder. "Less smartie, more cooly! Speaking of cool, what's this?"

Jaune rubbed his shoulder. "That's her doub-" Jaune cleared his throat. "That's her gun, Seraphim. It could blow away a wall with one shot!"

"Aw! You talked cooly for me! Boop!" She poked his nose with her finger. She dragged him along as he flinched, and stopped at a display of a large cylinder, twice their size. The portrait was of a very short man standing next to a goat, which was taller. His face looked like it was squished from both top and bottom, and you could barely see his blue eyes through his wrinkles. "Why's there a big can on display?"

"This is Bertha, Amistad Arc's favorite weapon."

"That's his weapon? How did he use it?"

"Well, it's broken right now, but before that, it was a hammer! It used to be so big, they say it could flatten a Goliath easily!"

"Where's it broken?"

"I think Mom said it was broken off in his final battle, so he gave it away so they could make stuff out of it."

"Huh." Jaune was surprised. No 'wows' this time. He figured she must be getting bored, so he decided to finish with his favorite display.

"This is my favorite display." At the very end of the hall, sat the display of a sword and shield. The shield had a pristine white body with a yellow emblem on it, and the sword had a blue handle with a yellow hilt at the end of the white blade. "Crocea Mors. Said to be wielded by the very first Arc himself. And one day, I'm going to hold her in my hands."

Nora noticed the shine in his eyes as he spoke of the sword. She giggled and snuggled into his arm. She closed her eyes and imagined them on a hill, a beautiful sunset to their backs, him in shining armor and her in a very pretty dress, side by side.

"Kids! It's time for lunch!"

"We better go, Nora." Nora didn't move, so Jaune dragged her to the door. He turned off the light and shut the door behind them. "What'd you think of the hall, Nora?"

Nora sighed dreamily. "It was okay."

"...Okay?" Jaune felt hurt by her response. This was something personal he shared and she thought it was, 'okay'?

"Mhm!" She pulled away and looked at him. "It's not my favorite place, but it means a lot to you, so it means a lot to me."

Jaune thought about it, then smiled. "You're right. But what is your favorite place here?"

Nora cuddled up to Jaune. "Right here."

"Aw, Nora!" Jaune blushed, and poked her nose. "Boop!"

Nora didn't calm down for the rest of the night.

[juchumice]

ive been thinking abt this avatar au for SO LONG!! i know some other exists but i still really wanted to put my spin on it and make them younger so it could be a bit more contextually different, so they’re roughly 14 during the au!

AIZAWA: aizawa’s a waterbender from the northern water tribe. initially, many believed he was a nonbender as it took quite awhile longer for his bending to reveal itself than the other children. he has zero talent concerning waterbending, none at all. in fact, he was absolutely terrible at it initially. but, if there was one thing he was certain about in youth, it was being an excellent waterbender. when first applying to waterbending classes, he was considered far too inexperienced to join. the instructor was a stern type. he told aizawa that he had, “no potential,” and should focus less on waterbending and more on hand to hand combat to waste less time. instead of listening, aizawa practiced terribly. everyday, every moment, he would be waterbending from dusk to dawn till he stumbled from lack of sleep. he even founded his own method, drenching his scarf of spongey material in water and bending it as a weapon. after further practice, he finally got accepted into the course with pure hard work. the issue was that everyone in his class was younger than him, talented and brilliant. none of them worked as hard as he did. they all were children just playing around. as the bending moves increased in difficulty, aizawa began to fall behind again, so his whole day would be absolutely swallowed in practice, practice, and practice. he would be beaten constantly by his peers: during spars, general displays of moves, and learning, so he couldn’t rely on his own power, instead focusing on strength in addition to strategy and observation. it was this adjustment of tactics that led him higher in his studies. he was able to graduate the minor classes, but his instructor thought it was best to get more experience in bending rather than continually relying on his other strengths, so he was sent away from home to study abroad among the other kingdoms and view their bending techniques.

YAMADA: yamada is an air nomad, but he is one of the very few who does not appear to be capable of bending. due to the spiritual nature of the air nomads, there are very few who are unable to airbend, and yamada is one of them. but, everyone else was very supportive even without his bending. he was able to have many friends, however couldn’t join in their air bending games. that’s where he learned his talent for announcing. as the other kids would play their games of air ball and pie toss, he’ll be there on the sidelines, narrating every single thing with his peculiar flare that led to his popularity among the northern air temple. though, even with everyone’s supportive nature, yamada was unhappy with his position. ever since he was but a toddler, he really wanted to be an airbender, streaking across the sky on a glider and riding on air scooters, only to be sorely disappointed. sure, he was able to ‘fly’ with his flying bison’s, baito’s, help but it just wasn’t the same. after a bit, he ran from the northern air temple, sick and tired of living in such a small space. with far too many fantasies on his mind, yamada wished to explore the other nations. it was then he stumbled across the fire nation. they were fascinating. their own fierce power, their sense of fashion, their culture, everything drew yamada closer. he would watch their shows with undisguised excitement, even announcing for a couple of them. while announcing for one of the firebender shows, yamada was required to choose a volunteer from the crowd, which just happened to be aizawa. this led to the beginning of their interactions.

so that’s it i guess! my main ideas for the avatar au! yamada has a glider, but he uh... stole it. just carries it around a lot to ‘feel like an airbender’-- and it’s a great umbrella when it rains!

the au itself takes place before the 100 year war so no worries abt any firebenders just yet!! i might develop it more but this is where its at so farrr

also i wrote a lil small thing while i was playin with the idea: 

...

“You know… I always wanted to bend,” Yamada said. He kicked up the dust with a shoe, frowning at the cloud that billowed around his feet as if it could disappear with a simple scrutinizing look. But, it didn’t. Merely floated to and fro without a care of his whims. 

Aizawa examined him carefully. There was no sound made, just an invitation to continue.

Yamada blew at several pieces of hair that loosened from his bush that he called a hairstyle. “Yeah. Sounds ‘crazy’! But, it made total sense! Look, look, look, I would be an EPIC airbender. You have to admit. I mean, look how cool my poses are!” He proceeded to strike several different ‘airbending poses’ that neither suggested coolness nor airbending. 

“You’ve watched too many firebending shows,” Aizawa replied. 

“But that’s what makes it so cool! The fire just exploding into the sky like Pompeii, but you can only see these red sparkles and nothing goes wrong… Imagine doing that… Imagine…” He chuckled mirthlessly. “Being a bender must be fun, huh…” His staff loosened from his fingers to slide and clatter to the floor. “Don’t even use this DUMB thing! I dunno why I keep it all the time… Maybe, oh! Maybe every time I hold it I get a 1% increase in being an airbender or something! Yeah… tough luck. You know? You know how stupid it is when EVERYONE in the temple’s an airbender and you’re stuck being the only kid around-- believe me they’re all super nice about it-- BUT ME?? THE ONLY ONE!! Don’t feel bad for me or I’ll strangle you or something, but it still freaking sucks. Man, air scooters? I totally would’ve invented those if I was an airbender…”

On and on he jabbered. He could have done this if he was an airbender, or maybe he could have done this!  Aizawa was unsure what to respond with. He never understood. Sure, he understood hardship and running raggedly through the critics and holding one’s goals to heart. A waterbender who couldn’t bend water for crap? That’s what they called him, might as well give up they had said, but he powered through and became skilled with pure hard work. No luck, no cheats, and no talent. Yamada was the opposite case, full of supporting faces and ancient smiles, but just no bending in general. How could someone so hopeful be met with such a grisly fate? Yet, all that Aizawa could offer was a tongue-in-cheek, “Sorry.” 

Yamada stopped talking abruptly. “Huh?”

“I said sorry.”

“Oh. Yeah. Don’t say sorry, man! What’s the fun in that, too gloomy Aizawa, waaaay too gloomy. Y’know, it is what it is! I got a sweet gig going on anyway, I don’t need anything as stupid as airbending. Only saps use airbending, they probably think it’s cool or something, but it isn’t haha. Waterbending, firebending, earthbending, that stuff’s cool! Airbending’s just some playing around with wind or something.”

[xiu21chen99]

hxh headcanon/imagine.

again... still about hisoillu but about their engagement instead of illu's influenced fashion choice.

also this is more of... idk it gave reason why they chose to marry instead of uh other ways i guess??

i've seen so many fanarts where illu would break the news to the zoldycks or how killu would react to having hisoka as his brother in law- like srsly it's meme worthy at this point- and lotsa ones that showed how hisoka proposed as a joke or smtg but... I've been overthinking abt it these past few days sO i present to you how i think "the big question aka the proposal" happened... (manga spoilers??)

it's after hisoka resurrected himself obviously, and def after he killed kortopi and shalnark (so he knew there was gonna be empty slots in the spiders' lineup)

i imagine illu went back to the zoldyck estate after the whole fiasco and only heard of hisoka's "death" from rumors while he was on a mission

and then when he was idk maybe contemplating on whether or not he should visit the body(?) to pay respects or something, he gets a text message from the devil himself

their text went like this probably:

hisoka: hey~ where are you right now?♠️ (and no u can't tell me hisoka doesn't text w card suits u just can't-)

illumi: who are you and how did you get the phone you are currently using?

hisoka: ooh~ illu~ i feel betrayed, did you delete my number?♣️

illumi: hisoka is dead

hisoka: *image attached*

illumi: oh

illumi: hello hisoka, how are you still alive?

hisoka: you sound disappointed~♦️

illumi: i kind of am...

hisoka: rude, just tell me where you are♥️

...and that's how they met up?? ngl i think illu has a know-it-all syndrome where he just has to,,, k n o w everything

he's curious so he agrees to the meetup ofc

he's also surprised when he sees hisoka is in good shape when they meet (idk at a bar in an unknown city?)

they drink whiskey on the rocks because... you know...

hisoka explains how he survived and his next plan of action (which is terminate the spiders)

illumi makes a mental note of nen after death bc he's heard and seen it all before but... not to this extent,

this is gonna be,,, bland but i think this is the logic behind why hisoka chose to get married/engaged instead of just paying up front (reference to the ten dons' commission to get chrollo killed and chrollo's commission to get the ten dons killed)--

anyways here's how their conversation goes:

i: "why did you want to talk in person?"

h: "oh y'know, for old times sake."

i: "...right"

hisoka laughs, "okay so maybe i want to ask you for a favor..?"

confused, illumi asks, "why could you not have just texted if you wanted me to kill someone for you?"

h: "no, no- wait, actually, you're not too far off."

i: ~mOrE cOnfUsiOn~ "huh?"

h: "how do contracts for assassination work in your... family business?"

i: "half the promised pay before, the remaining half afterwards. should the target be eliminated by a third party, the assigned zoldyck still gets the pay and should the employer die, then the contract is terminated and the zoldyck will report back immediately."

h: "and has anyone made a contract to have themselves terminated?"

i: "i beg your pardon?"

h: "what complications will arise should your employer's target be... themselves?"

i: "i believe... i have never encountered such circumstance before. the people who hire us are those who have enough money and resource to have their enemies killed quickly. no one's tried to test the zoldyck assassination prowess."

h: "so... how will that work?"

i: "are you implying this is the reason why you have contacted me today?"

h: "yes~ ♥️" (how he said a heart emoji out loud is up to you, reader)

i: "it will be a pointless paradox. logically, the zoldyck will only get the employment bill. and i, myself, do not find pleasure in going for the kill like you lest i get my reward, so you will not get a contract out of me, hisoka."

h: "is there no leeway?"

i: "a zoldyck stands up to their word. so no."

h: "even for a friend?~ ♦️"

i: "we are not friends, hisoka-"

hisoka raises his glass of whiskey along with his eyebrow.

i: "oh..."

h: "didn't you tell dear killua that a zoldyck didn't need friends?"

i: "you... are an associate, someone reliable in the killing world. it's different."

h: "hypocrite"

i: "i ask you for favors and you make me return them. it is not like we spend our time together leisurely like killu with that island boy..."

hisoka clinks their matching glasses of whiskey even though his is already empty, a shit-eating grin on his lips.

i: "you suggested we meet here."

h: "this isn't the first time we went out to drink, right illu?"

i: "regardless!! i will not kill you just for half the money. i do not like wasting efforts on fruitless missions."

h: "as i said, is there no exception, to make sure you get my money if you were to succeed in killing me?"

i: "are you doubting my skill, hisoka?"

h: "that's not the point right now~ ♠️"

i: "wait, why do you want me to get all of your money?"

h: "haven't we just gotten over this subject? because you're my friend, of course."

i: "i... we are not friends, hisoka."

hisoka claps, "that's it! illumi!! ♣️"

i: "eh?"

h: "marry me! that way in our prenup I'll make sure you get all of my money, and even without a prenup you'll still get it since you'll be my only relative! that solves it!"

i: "hisoka, are you sure death did not took a toll on your brain? you did say you used Bungee Gum only on your heart and lungs..."

h: "i'm being serious, illumi!! and doesn't this solve your earlier conflict? we don't have to be friends, we'll be husbands!"

i: "do not use that tactic with me, you manipulative bastard. stop joking."

h: "this is purely beneficial for you, honestly i don't get why you just won't accept it."

i: "then humor me this first, why now?"

h: "dear illu, i've been to literal hell and back. i think it's time to leave my mark in case i fail to escape death again."

i: "was it that bad?"

h: "you'll love it there, illu~ ♥️"

h: "on a more serious note, though, i do plan to marry you. out of everyone i've encountered, you're the most eligible candidate. you're powerful, fully capable and extremely pretty to boot! you're the ideal husband!"

(blushing obviously, illumi downs the remaining whiskey in his glass) i: "death has changed you, hisoka."

h: "so?"

i: "fine."

h: "excellent!"

and in one fell swoop, illumi has a pin against the curve of hisoka's jugular, wrist held tightly by hisoka- a card matching against his own neck.

"not yet, dear husband." hisoka whispered into his ear, "we have to manage the papers first. and i've a request before you do."

they let each other go at the same time, not even breathing an unnecessary breath in the other's personal space (well, they're nearly pressed thigh to thigh anyways, what's the point of personal space anymore-)

"a condition rather than a request, really."

"what?" hisoka orders them refills, and downs his when it arrives.

"join the ryodan first."

glass already pressed on thin lips, illumi's confused hum resonates softly into the concave utensil. "why?"

"so things can get more interesting. i assume you know of the dark continent expedition that's soon to take place?"

"father has advised i take part on it, since kalluto told me the ryodan plans to rob some cliches who'll join the expedition- to look after him. you want me to join them?"

"yes, and i plan to board as well, don't fret."

illumi's eyes turn to slits, "how should i know you would be there? i can't take your word when you might just disappear when we've all boarded."

hisoka grins, wide then wider, "you should know by now illu, i plan to avenge my wounded pride. that damned chrollo didn't even fight me properly."

tilting his head, illumi stared at the man beside him, "is that not contradictory? i thought you did not mind your opponent using whatever means necessary to win?"

"magicians use tricks and misdirection to awe the audience," hisoka says almost thoughtlessly, "chrollo's a narcissistic hypnotist who used the audience as a damned shield because he knew he couldn't handle me face-to-face."

he groans, tinged in regret. "i shouldn't have picked heaven's arena, if i'd chosen a more discreet location then maybe the damage won't be this bad."

"damage?" illumi rests his chin on his palm, facing his husband.

hisoka swipes a hand over his face, and the glamour comes off. the picture he sent illumi now present in front of him. he was missing a nose, his left hand didn't have any finger left and dried blood chipped on his white skin. "oh."

with another swipe, everything's made correct again. hisoka was grinning again. he downs the remaining alcohol and leaves jenny bills under the emptied glass.

"come, lovely husband. we're to elope and legalize our union!"

illumi follows suit after downing his own glass, "i think there might be another loop hole, if you were to join the family. zoldycks do not kill family."

"so if i were to wed you, here and now, you'd think me more of a family than alluka?"

"alluka is not family."

"are those your words, illumi? or silva's?"

"i..."

"wow, you're really just as fucked up as i am."

"where do you plan to take me? i've just said i cannot kill family."

hisoka chuckles, "then you're the one to take my name, of course."

"preposterous!"

"who the hell still uses that word?"

"i am and will always be a zoldyck-"

"exactly. it's just legal papers, if you kill me then you'll just be a widow and even get your name back! see how everything'll work out in the end?"

"hisoka-"

"are you doubting your skill of assassination, my dearest husband?"

"... i better get the most expensive ring in this damned city."

"that's the spirit! now let's go get married!"

"wait, hisoka. what is your last name?"

later that night, when they leave a chapel, something gold glimmers on hisoka's bungee gum/texture surprise ring finger. a matching one around illumi's finger.

unlike hisoka, though, illumi had an extra red glimmer right under that gold, in the dead center of a silver band of intricately designed pattern. hisoka had foregone the traditional diamond in favor of a 16 carat ruby engagement ring, such a curious choice but illumi accepted it all the same...

(much later on, hisoka took both rings as collateral and reminded illumi that he would get them back even if he died bc it was in their damn prenup- and bc it was technically bought under illumis name and that's how hisoka assured illu that he'd be on that black whale,,, bc he had the rings and planned to give them back to him there)

"I thought a red gemstone was better suited for the rather bloody and murderous ending that our relationship will inevitably come to, wouldn't you agree?"

-Hisoka Morow whenever someone mentions his preference of proposal ring...

"I disagree with most of his ideals, our relationship has always had a fragile foundation, and I knew from the start that we'd eventually end up killing each other."

-Illumi Morow, nee Zoldyck when asked about his thoughts on his husband...

[razorblade180]

Interdimensional Moms pt4

Part 3 here! <-

The tales had be interesting. The tales had even been emotionally gripping, yet all of them so far didn’t seem to register at the moment as Ruby’s teammates looked at her with the same excitement she used to give her own mother during story time. Ruby couldn’t help but give a little smile.

Ruby:I take it you’re ready for my turn? You do know it’s not exactly a sunshine and rainbows story, right?

Weiss:We figured as much, but....

Yang:You’re so different! From the moment you showed up I could just feel it in my gut. You have this...presence about you. Not to mention intsene confidence.

Blake:Yang is right. You said you beat your Salem when your seventeen. That’s...scary if I’m being honest. Such a drastic departure from any of our worlds.

Ruby:*red* Hehehe ummm I guess I’m just awesome? Really I don’t think it’s the most outstanding feat. At least by my worlds standards I suppose. I mean sure, I’m consider cream of the crop there too but there’s talented people and challenges all over that would put me through my paces still. I’m just...me.

Weiss:Sigh...honestly, I suppose that means our own skills must pale in comparison to our counterparts.

Ruby:Mmmm I wouldn’t say that for sure. My Yang would kill me if she heard this but there’s something about the one right here that has spark I dig.

Yang:Really?

Ruby:Uh huh. Can’t put my finger on it but I think you take her if you want it bad enough. As for Weiss....couldn’t tell ya. Haha, I know better than anybody to not underestimate the power of mother, and you pumped twins out.

Weiss:Not sure if those are pity points or real ones but thanks either way.

Blake:You don’t even have to tell me I’d lose. Just gave an entire story about me an my condition.

Ruby:Don’t feel too bad about it. I can’t imagine much reason for you two to fight for any reason. You’re both too reasonable to not reason with yourself.

Blake:Aw I’m touched.

Yang and Weiss:We aren’t....

Ruby:Hahaha I’m just saying! So, I guess I take things from the top like you all? From what I learned from all of you our Beacon experiences really are more or less the same, not counting certain interactions between a bookworm faunus and an adorkable blonde knight. Enrolled early, blew up the entrance, Weiss was rude, Yang ditched me, all the same beats.

Yang:There’s no super badass change like you beating Cinder the night of dance and making our entire lives easier?

Ruby:Ha! I wish I was that legit. No, I was very much the young girl tripping in heels that night. Vytal festival came around and was attacked, then Beacon fell. Pyrrha was lost and so was Penny. Difference being that was my last time seeing her, unlike Weiss’s story apparently.

Weiss:Yeah that...that’s a little bit of shock to be frank. Sorry.

Ruby:No worries. Not like you did anything and it was decades ago for me now. After that day is when I started to get a bit more serious I think. I had always taken being a huntress seriously and never slacked of in trying to live my dream. However, my perspective may have honed in on just how do or die life his when you’re the one choosing to walk into unknown danger. Team RNJR’s first and only mission, save the world!

Yang:Sub mission: Flirt with Jaune Arc.

Ruby:*blushing* We do not choose who we fall in love with it. But yes, that may have been a personal pseudo mission for me. He’s my first friend at Beacon for crying out loud and I you know.....thought he was cute then too.

WBY:Yeah that checks out.

Ruby:What does that mean!?

Weiss:Ruby, even my Ruby admits to finding Jaune attractive and having a crush on him back in the day.

Blake:Same.

Yang:I already went into enough detail on how my little sister feels about Jaune. Your just the reality where you pounced on the opportunity and never let go. Struck when the iron was hot and none of us were around; sly fox.

Ruby:Gee you make it sound underhanded. It isn’t like I intended to actively pursue him. Everyone was really sad and stressed traveling to Anima. There was a tension in the air. One that really strained us. I did my best to keep focus, but a leader is only as put together as team. Ren and Nora confided one another as usual and I tried being there for Jaune because seeing him emotionally shut down was rough; so I did my best to be there for him. Then...he ended up being there for me and I was the one who needed comfort. All the airing out and late nights just...led to....*red*

Blake: “Breaking the tension?”

Ruby:I guess that’s one way of putting it. We were lonely. I hid my feelings best I could under the veil of comfort in the moment. Not that needed to. He made it pretty clear that he wanted me in the same way I wanted him. I just the two of us were too scared to ask for promises we weren’t sure we could keep so we loved in the moments we could, so to speak.

Weiss:If it wasn’t under dire situations, all that sounds oddly romantic.

Ruby:Right!? Looking back at it makes the entire thing seem romantic but I definitely wouldn’t wish a similar experience on anybody! I guess it’s what I wished for when I fantasized huntress life huh? Things obviously got better along the way. Our relationship got a bit more serious right before we got to Haven. Then Tyrian and other crazy stuff happened that threw all of us into panic mode again before slowly getting better again by a lot.

Yang:We showed up?

Ruby:Bingo! You and Weiss, met Oscar, and then eventually Blake came back. Things were on the up and up.

Weiss:Uh, Haven attack?

Ruby:We lived, up and up. Yeah you got stabbed but you know...that’s not new I’m sure.

Weiss:Yeah I have the scar and I’m still little pissed.

Ruby:Valid. Anyways, so my Atlas experience was different as hell. There was no formation of Remnants armies like Weiss spoke of or even between two kingdoms like Blake. Yang, what happened yours again exactly?

Yang:Nonsense. Cinder showed up with lackeies but not Salem’s lackies. Those people showed up separately, then Adam came back from wherever the hell he- a lot! A lot of people showed up for different reasons but also the same reason and to be frank, we all almost got shot by the military for being in bases that quote unquote, “didn’t exist.”

Ruby:Man I wish we traded. That at least sounds crazy enough to be fun. Just a rollercoaster in the dark basically. My experience was probably as hectic, but also way more streamlined. We showed up, and then all hell broke loose. Specially a mass grimm invasion lead by Cinder and her annoying associates. We were there for about three weeks updating General Ironwood and getting our barrings together when it happened. I wanna call it a hit and run tactic but it was clearly planned in advanced. Mechs were hacked again, traitors in the military, grimm lying in wait before hand; it was chaos! All for the relic.

Blake:Who was the maiden?

Ruby:Never met her. By the time we got there, Ironwood was panicking because she had vanished, taken right from under his nose. It was some young girl apparently, really young. The attack on Beacon looked like child’s play to this. Mantle got attacked, grimm were on the chains, they tried dropping Atlas to the ground; all a diversion for a relic. We all should’ve died, and yet, we didn’t. Winter and Weiss weeded out traitors, huntsman and military held the line, Yang bested Hazel with Nora, Qrow and I cut down Tyrian! Ren, Blake and Jaune helped the kingdoms while Ironwood struck down Watts. Nobody was in the mood to die that day. There wasn’t gonna be another Beacon. By all means, we were pissed. Even Raven showed up of all people.

Yang:What!?

Ruby:You can’t attack a kingdom without the world knowing. Especially when traitors leak info. Honestly she came for you though, or she never left to begin with. Couldn’t tell ya. Thanks to Maria I had a bit more handling with my eyes. That helped a lot. Without them and Os-

She stopped herself, choking on the words. The zest and excitement of recalling the heroic feats of her friends dimmed slightly with her smile. Her joyful smile became bittersweet like the memory.

Ruby:Then there was Oscar, the real warrior on that flamed filled night. That battle had to have been three days at least. We were so driven, and so tired. I was tired, but Cinder, Neo, and the others with her at the time weren’t; always showing up at the worst time. I managed to push Cinder back in a fight but grimm and others still swarmed. We were at a point that grimm very well might’ve did us in and the villains didn’t have to push any harder. But Oscar changed that. Hehe, what’s it about country folk that makes people like him and I not hesitate to grit our teeth? That dork looked at me, gave me the biggest smile on the the steps to Atlas, and then he left. His hair went white as he twirled the cane and then he left, forever. Oz came out, and he left nothing to the imagination. “Limited magic” my butt. He obliterated grimm and made a barrier aroma Atlas while everyone else cleared Mantle long enough for the world to send reinforcements. Salem didn’t get the relic, but she got the maiden and thousands of casualties. Oscar being one of them. Also, Whitley....he was in critical condition for a very long time.

Weiss:What do you mean...critical condition?

Ruby:Everything happened so fast Weiss. Panic was high, buildings fell....a piece on him. I wasn’t there but when I eventually found you, you were nearly hysterical and banged up. By some miracle he lived even though we could not reach him and he did not get aid for awhile. We thought him dead. It was only after everything we learned somebody got him. Being rich never paid off more than with medical bills. Thanks to youth and medicine he can still walk, but he can only do so much before being tired. He also left Atlas. The cold hurts.

Weiss:So, I run the company because he can’t?

Ruby:I wouldn’t put it that way, but it was one of dozens of reasons that made that goal stronger for you. Relax though, both of you get plenty of time to be witty siblings like I told you earlier.

Weiss:I know. It’s just, I guess it’s hard imagining Whitley hurt like that. I don’t think I could handle it.

Ruby:You definitely teetered in the moment. Knowing that happened though probably gave you anger and grit to fight the entire battle. You were a beast. Scarier than Winter. Anyways, that hollow victory was a real wake up call for the world. They didn’t know about Salem and we never told society in earnest. Cinder and other conspirators were enough to make Remnant work together to boost defense. Relief went to places that needed it and I, became the face of hope. Haven, Argus, Atlas, even people from Vale got to chattering of a particular group of people who always seemed to answer the call for help. Then the towns in between chattered. Yours truly had been carving a name in the history books and was only gain popularity the moment I stepped into Vacou, alone.

Blake:Alone!?

Weiss:What!?

Yang:Where were we!!!!!?

Ruby looked at surprised faces around the table, smiling tenderly. She looked down her dress and pulled out the cross she wore around her neck. Her thumb traced its edges as her mind began wandering down an old path paved with emotions raw to the core.

Ruby:I’ve always felt different. Not just because of my eyes but that there was just...a certain spark that never stopped going off for as long as I remember. There are plenty of people who can’t bare to watch others suffer, but there are fewer people I believe that truly feel the agony of other people’s pain. Beacon, Haven, Atlas, Argus; there was no place I went that I didn’t see the faces of others lamenting, and I didn’t make me want to grieve. Atlas took so much out of all of you and I just felt so....driven to stop that ache. For everyone’s sake, but mine as well. I wanted the world to finally get to the happy ending. Enough trauma had be sowed for a hundred lifetimes, so I went on ahead of everyone. I never doubted you all would follow but I wanted to get ahead of the curve and take on as much of the suffering I could do others wouldn’t. If the world wouldn’t give me a miracle than I’d be it myself for everyone else.

Yang:That’s suicidal! Salem wanted you specifically!

Ruby:It’s not like I went marching up to her door and said “1v1 bitch, I’m here” no, I just chose to move forward quicker than what we were all doing. Believe me, all of you were upset when you caught up, after I had already saved Vacou. *smiles* I really like that place. I told the people it was the next target and all they did was double down on pushing back. I managed to pin down the Summer maiden before the villains and thanks with the city on alert, there wasn’t a shift in the sand that didn’t go unnoticed. I got the jump on Mercury and Emerald, personally paying them back. Can’t say I didn’t enjoy it. It didn’t take long before they realized how screwed they were with them being outed like this and Cinder having the nerve to retreat before hand. Both of them threw in the total, outing the plan against Vacou. A wipeout of a win. Not to mention they told me the location Salem’s little hiding hole.

Weiss:We missed all of that?

Ruby:That’s what happens when I leave in the dead of night and running on adrenaline. Like I said before, people were tired. As much as all of you wanted to hoof it, other’s were relying on you. Atlas almost dropped for gods sake. Eventually when you all caught up it was at a good time. Soloing was rewarding but difficult. Fortunately Sun, Neptune, Ilia, and a few other familiar faces were close by if I needed an extra set of hands. My little stunt earned the anger of everyone for awhile.

WBY:Yeah no shit...the leader left.

Ruby:Yang was the most upset, followed by Uncle Qrow, and you Weiss. I was ready for the blowback. Jaune and Nora saw me though and bursted into tears. Hehe, wasn’t ready for that. Felt terrible and cried back. To prevent that stunt again, my Yang convinced Raven to link me. A couple days of apologizing and rest smoothed things over. It also gave time for just a few close friends and colleagues to get together for an assault on Salem’s castle. A few were apprehensive about it at first but at the end of the day I was going. That attitude was infectious apparently. You guys, actually everybody, they started getting this hunger to end it all. Maybe it was the high of victory? Regardless, it sent me racing to the end with those that I loved most.

Yang:You’re a real “my way or the highway” kind of Ruby. I don’t get how that explains what made you so...elite.

Ruby:I’m not sure what to say. A fight needed to to fought so I fought it. A cry for help was heard so I ran to it. A grimm needed slaying so I slayed it. People needed me to win so I didn’t dare think of losing. Dying was never option, even when it stared me right into my eyes. I had things I wanted to do and people I wanted see for years to come. I guess...I am strong because of the fact I want things my way. A moment I’m not giving it 110% is a moment wasted. After all, a huntress is all I ever wanted to be.

A single dream she wanted since birth. The never ending desire to be the hero in stories told to her many nights ago. That’s all it ever was. That’s all it’s ever been. Even in meadow of beautiful red roses, one would be the rose that captured the eyes of many, that bloomed stronger than the rest. As simple as it was, that had to be the answer here. Weiss, Yang, and Blake were in front of that flower. The Ruby Rose that simply bloomed stronger than the rest. The one that clung to her dream as if letting go meant dying itself. The devotion was inspiring, yet also overwhelming. If this was Ruby they had lead them that day in the Emerald Forest, could they have kept up? Could she be the leader they followed? No, they couldn’t have. Something deep down inside them gave them that answer. No matter how she looked and how much she loved, this Ruby Rose was cut from a cloth they simply weren’t off. The same as others, but oh so different.

Weiss:You’re....kinda a monster, you know that right?

Yang:Seriously, I’m so...floored. It’s intimidating.

Blake:Not to mention humbling. I used to think I gave it all I had. Now I’m not so sure.

Ruby:Oh don’t be like that you three! You’re all living proof there was more than way to go about life, this war! Everything you gave was enough because you’re done with it! Nobody failed. Besides, I...am far from ideal. The assault was challenging. Getting around hoards of grimm and making it to Salem was hell made real. Neo tried taking another shot at me but Yang held her off with help. Everyone pushed the obstacles in front of me out of the way as I went to Salem herself. Cinder had been abandoned by her and stripped of a lot of her powers. Angry and desperate, she tried killing me again as a way to prove worth. I beat her. However, I let her walk away.

Yang:What!? Why would-

Ruby:Naive, I was...naive okay? She was all spent and though I hated her, I just couldn’t. Not when I looked into her eyes and saw that same hunger I had to claw and scream at my dream until it was in my hands die inside her. We both knew from this point on there was absolutely nothing she could do where this ends her way. All she worked for turned burned to ash. So I gave her the choice to not burn up with it. Cinder swallow her pride and then fled. A part of me couldn’t help but rationalize killing her didn’t solve or justify any of my beliefs or desires. It would’ve done it because I hated her like she hated me. That was the dumb logic of a seventeen year old who never quite learned to take things slow.

Blake:....I don’t think it’s dumb. Naive for sure, but maybe that’s good? Even my Ruby, she never wanted to act on hate. She didn’t. Salem lives.

Weiss:Mine sent her soul to be at piece instead of passing a cruel judgment.

Yang:As a person who’s seen what you looked like with nothing but vengeance inside, I can say it doesn’t fit you. Before that day you had a warmth inside you to even foes that were somewhat admirable. You chose to leave Cinder’s fate up to those who had that hate and Salem was undone by her own doing at the very end. That’s what really makes you special Ruby. That’s why you’re called an honest soul. Good will is your nature.

Ruby:....Hmm, you sure know how to butter me up. *scratches head* I guess that part of me is uni-I mean multiversal. Strangely, that makes me feel better, to a degree.

Weiss:Do we even have to ask what happened to Salem at this point? I doubt the story ends with you loosing and having to retreat.

Ruby:Who’s to say it doesn’t? I could’ve been beaten to death before the gods themselves descended down to revive me with awesome power.

Yang:....Did you?

Ruby:Wh-No! Haha, I made her an immortal statue.

Blake:I-It was that easy?

Ruby:Well I wouldn’t call rushing into hell’s castle easy, or Salem. I lit her up at least a dozen times. My head pounded from each use, I was tossed around a bunch, magic is annoying, and not to mention running out of ammo. I left nothing to the imagination in that fight. If it were easy then I wouldn’t be rooting my horn and my age doing it. I was so tired I blacked out afterwards. I woke days later with a sore body and the title of “Remnant’s Savior.” Apparently beating Salem had weakened the grimm everywhere and all of you made sure who was to be thanked for it. That’s the tale of how I saved the world with my friends. Love, trust, elbow grease, and a lot of bullets. Before the final battle, Ozpin had struck a deal with everyone involved. In return for saving the world, he’d cut ties with us.

Yang:Seriously? What brought that about!?

Ruby:Good or not, he lied and was a schemer. Sure I was gonna try to save the world regardless of his interference but there wasn’t a person alive that didn’t to finally take a step towards the future after all this. All of us finally had time chase dreams and help the world the way we wanted to before all of this. Blake begin mending hate, Weiss took back her company, if Yang wasn’t with Blake then she was seeking more answers to Raven on wild adventures.

Yang:You mean Raven still left after all that!?

Ruby:In her defense, both of you made everything fucking awkward when she was around. It’s like you both wanted to talk about something but knew any subject was a land mine so you all you ever did was...stare, like weirdos. Glad that’s in the past. She just lives with dad now and you two now to hold a conversation. I dare not ask for more. I’d be a granny by the time I did.

Yang:Sigh...I don’t know what I expected. Shit it the fan several times and children were born before mom and I found solidarity and understanding. What did you do afterwards? Your goal was already met.

Ruby:Like hell it was! I started busting my butt traveling around the world, visiting every place to help in anyways I could. Ren and Nora tagged along for awhile before going off to make an orphanage in Anima near Ren’s old village. That left Jaune and I to do our hero thing.

Yang:As well as other things....

Ruby:Hey, what can I say? We were young and going up in the world. By the time I was nineteen, I was now a married to my partner and best friend.

Weiss:Uhhhh-

Ruby:He’s my partner on RNJR and you’re my BFF, gosh did I really need to explain that hehe?

Weiss:I just had to make sure. Crazier twists could happen.

Blake:Wow you married young. Not that there’s a problem but I’m surprised. Then again you also dated earlier than my Ruby. Hehe, weapons were on her brain for a long time.

Weiss:No kidding. When I learned about you crushing on my brother I was shocked to find out you liked anybody in general. Especially a person who isn’t a weapon nut in the slightest.

Ruby:*shrugs* All you’re telling me is I’m clearly the most impatient or impulsive Ruby you all know. Don’t know how that happened. Maybe I was dropped as a baby or had one too many coffees growing up?

Weiss:I’m willing to bet it’s both.

Ruby:Ruuuuude. So yeah, that’s...the story of how I saved the world and married Jaune. We even built a home just outside Vacou, overlooking the kingdom and neighboring town in the distance where Maria grew up. Yeah, that’s me....more or less. All the triumphant parts anyways. Anything later on is......

.......

Blake:R...Ruby? You okay?

Ruby:Nope, not really. *clenches cross*

Yang:......You know, I never really got religion, especially after learning the truth. It just seemed completely hollow when you learn of the real gods, ya know? However, I changed my tune a bit after being a parent and then some more when uncle Qrow died. It was never really about the truth behind if those other gods were real-

Ruby:It’s the piece of mind in believing in a better place for loved ones and having people watch over you. It’s truly based on blind faith in every sense but that’s okay as long as it gives peace of mind, to stay strong. Yeah....that’s why I wear this.

Yang:If that’s the “why” then I guess the unavoidable question is what happened?

The reaper leaned back in his chair, letting out a long sigh. Ruby brushed her hair out of her face while her face went pale. Then, Ruby’s eyes, her teammates watched a pair of stunning silver eyes dim, becoming akin to a clouded mirror.

Ruby:Being a huntress was all I wanted. The plan of having a family and settling down never appealed to me much. I feel, I felt like being in the field was where I was meant to be. It’s where I was most myself in a way. So the day I learned that I was pregnant was more than a little upsetting and terrifying, until dad and time itself filled me with the most genuine joy I may have ever experienced. Dustin Arc Rose, my first born son. He opened a door to a world and life I never knew I wanted to be apart of. Then...that door was shut minutes after, when Cinder and Neo stole him right from my arms. I couldn’t do a single thing about it other than blackout. That single act of good will I showed, it did nothing but kill me inside. The same way I did to her.

WB:.....

Yang:Ru-Ruby....your eyes.

Ruby:Hmm? Are they clouded? Funny, I would’ve thought your Ruby would’ve had a similar change. Maybe that’s a world exclusive thing, or a testament to the will you Ruby has to endure. Clouded eyes on a silver eyed warrior means the person has lost the desire or rather the mindset of persevering life. Be it their own life or wanting to end another’s life out of resentment, strife. My entire world fell apart when I woke up and learned nobody was able to retrieve Dustin. I was in pieces, Jaune was broken, nobody was the same. There wasn’t a soul we didn’t know that hadn’t tried to find a lead, but we never did. He was just...gone; and I couldn’t cope at all.

Weiss:I don’t think any mother could. Ruby, I’m so sorry that happened to you.

Ruby:I’m sorry too. I lashed out in anger, and shut people out. My eyes clouded and I dove into my work for a little over a year doing nothing but searching aimlessly as I took and every job back to back. The more time went by meant the more people eventually had to go back to their own, and it drove me up a wall inside. No one could reach me. I didn’t want anybody to. Not even Jaune. I....*teary eyed* I left him alone in house. There was no part of me that could even attempt to understand his pain because I was drowning in mine. I was told he tried his best to catch them at the hospital. I never hated him for not succeeding but I...he... I just, I can’t. I don’t know what I thought. All o knew was I didn’t even want him to touch me. How cruel is that? *hugging herself* I made him drown in despair in the same way I was. I wasn’t home so often that I never realized he eventually left it abandoned to live with dad. Yang and Blake I didn’t even show up to your wedding. Jaune did that much. Hell, Raven attended. Ruby Rose as a person didn’t exist any more. I was only a wandering huntress looking for answers or the challenge that might’ve ended me.

Blake:What changed?

Ruby:Oz, he did what nobody else dared to do. He fought me. I don’t think he thought twice about it. He was prepared to accept all the anger I kept inside until I eventually broke down into tears like I’m trying not to do right now. Thinking about that time is still, extremely difficult. Oz let me lament, encouraging me afterwards to finally except the fact Dustin was gone and that I needed to process it properly. First I went to you Yang, in order to have a my big sis to lean on. Can you guess how that went?

Yang:With me holding you tighter than I ever had before.

Ruby:*smiles gently* I don’t deserve you. You and Blake then came to patch with me where everyone else waited for me and helped me face Jaune. That may have been the hardest thing I’ve done. Grieving or not, the fact that I left him in such a state. I know what that does to people firsthand and yet I left. For the first time in over a year we embraced and finally grieved together. The next two years were spent trying to heal and cope. During my time away the world had fully acknowledged me. I even got a proper nickname, but it all felt hollow. Imagine that, achieving your dream but not caring? If that’s not salt in a wound then I don’t know what is.

Weiss:What’s your title?

Ruby:I am the person people want to see when evil comes to cut their story short. I am a symbol that their tale still has more to tell. Remnant has named me The Storyteller. Curtsey of Maria, who spread the name around. Healing was slow and most nights I felt a pain in my heart, but then everything changed. One moment made me dare to try again to open that shut door in my life. *looks at Yang* I held your son in my arms. Sweet little Kovu.

Blake:*smiles* Kovu? Now I wonder who named him?

Yang:*red* Huh...how about that? Hehehe, wish I could meet him. I know he isn’t technically mine but I can’t help but feel all warm now. Also I can’t believe I named him that!

Weiss:I can. Veronica’s middle name is Nala.

Yang:Okay, maybe not marrying Blake was a win? Clearly I can’t be trusted to not name my children after other cats.

Blake:The wrong kind of cat too. I’m a panther faunus, not a lion. Even if they’re blonde that’s still false advertising of what they are.

Ruby:Well Yang was the one giving birth so you lost a majority of the option to complain.

Blake:That is fair.

Weiss:You gave birth to Vee, so I think that solves who picked her first name.

Ruby rested her head in her propped up hands that rested on the table. She felt exhausted reliving that chapter of her life mentally. Still she managed to smile, then smile bigger. Her eyes unclouded and a warm feeling filling her again. What Ruby said earlier about what made her different may have reign true, but her friends could since that there was now more to it. Ruby had spiraled into an unimaginable tragedy, yet was able to bounce back thanks to loved ones. To smile as she does, it was truly a strong sight to see. Even if she wasn’t fully aware of that.

Ruby:Carmine Arc Rose, my second born and the first child to call me mommy. Followed many years later by itty bitty Garnet. He’s my little man, five years old while is big sis is seventeen now.

Yang:Damn! That’s a gap. Oh, also congratulations. Almost forgot that part. I’m glad you got to be the super awesome mom that-

Ruby:I am easily C-teir.

Yang:Oh come on! What!?

Ruby:Listen, I know I got on you all for calling yourselves bad parents, but I will hear no debate about me understand!? I flop a lot of times.

Weiss:That doesn’t make you a C-teir. That makes you a new mom, silly.

Ruby:*grumbling* I agree to disagree but thank you. It’s just a lot okay. Too much to dive into honestly.

Blake:Summarize. Give us an abbreviated version.

Ruby:Ummm so Carmine is real special kid. The absolute love I have for her is unbreakable but gods damnit if she isn’t the most... “me” I could be! In a way similar yet different from myself, Carmine has always had this sense of urgency in her and a love for the world around her. She recognizes that it’s a fragile piece we have and just how hard I’ve worked with everyone to make it. I could tell that from her when she was five. I’d sound crazy, but the fact she used her eyes at the age proves I’m not.

Yang:She has silver eyes!? Why didn’t you bring that up?

Ruby:I thought that was obvious. All of my kids were born with then. Unlike her baby brother though, Carmine was a weird little kid. She didn’t socialize well. Still doesn’t, she’s kinda comes off rude and cold because of her bluntness. She doesn’t really express all her feelings or understand others fully. One might call her a little cold but the passion she had to protect life itself is a testament to how much she cares. Carmine is also a genius fighter. To put in perspective, people use the same nickname for her that they used for Pyrrha.

WBY:Oh....

Ruby:Yeah! It’s not hyperbolic to say ever since Carmine is far beyond any skill I was at her age since she turned thirteen. You called me a monster earlier but no, I merely gave birth to a beast. I mean she could pass the huntsman exam at fifteen if I didn’t make her wait. I can’t call her arrogant, she talks with confidence because she has that right by all means. Still, besides her face, that’s where the similarities start separating; besides terrible grades in general stuff. We’ve never been in step completely. To put simply in her own words, “What I am is a hero, while she is a huntress.” That good will and mercy I try to give everyone isn’t how she rolls. It drives a real wedge that has resulted in us not going on missions together.

Blake:Is she...killing?

Ruby:She has before, and it had valid reasons entirely, but I also know for a fact she is more than capable of bringing down people without taking that step. Not all cases are that intense thank goodness. Her overall aggressiveness is the root of the problem. You don’t have to put you back into it when handling thugs. They aren’t Hazel.

Yang:Ooo okay, yeah I’m seeing what you mean now. It’s like that one comic you always read!

Ruby:Sigh...yeah she channels a bit of Batman energy and I need her to not do that all the time. I suppose being an honest soul isn’t particularly hereditary. It always feels like we aren’t enjoying each other’s company these days. I can’t blame her though. So....you know how all of you have had one serious problem that has both destabilized yourself as well as the kids and their relationship to you? *clouded eyes*

Weiss:Wait...you loosing a child wasn’t that?

Ruby:Oh it was. It just so happened that it never ended. It grew day by day. Night by night. Jaune and I were cautious with Carmine. Going as far to give her contacts and giving birth to her off the record and not at a hospital. Just in case Cinder came back. Well, Cinder and Neo came back, with my Dustin.

Nobody said anything. What do you even say to that!? All they did was let out a stifled breath and tried to gauge Ruby’s look of guilt.

Ruby:Yet again we had gotten too comfortable. It happened when Carmine was thirteen. I don’t think Garnet was even one yet. That’s when the cruelest realization hit me. My son had been alive and hearing about how his so called mother being a person who saves everyone, yet she never came for him. She had moved on, letting his eyes become clouded with such seething hate for the world she did save; the children she had after. It’s been four years since the day he attacked Carmine and helped grimm try to invade Vacou. To this day it’s been a life of staying on gaurd, searching for them as they popped up countless places to tear Remna- to tear me down and I can’t decide what part hurts the most. The amount of anger that prevents me from killing Cinder in a blink of an eye, or looking at my daughter who has told me herself that she is going to kill her older brother because I’m too weak to do so. That I’m in no way as good as the world believes me to be. *puts hood up* Like I said, C-teir mom, at best.

Blake:That’s- you can’t- there’s no way for you to reach him? Maybe if you-

Ruby:He looks at me the same way Neo and Cinder do, Blake. They raised him to hate me. Besides, he hurt Carmine. She’s just not gonna let that slide and frankly I shouldn’t either. Carmine acts tough and for the most part is, but gets terrified like everyone else. In many ways she’s still just a young girl that I wish had never chosen to become a huntress. If I had it my way she’d just be a normal girl with normal knees; but her mother’s weakness and inexperience wrapped her up in yet another war. It’s ironic. I barely remember mom and yet I ended up putting my family in very similar situation as if she lead instruction. Happy endings, I’m not sure if I get-

Yang:You’re better than mom....

Ruby:......

Yang:Yeah I said. Look I love Summer Rose but at the end of the day she wasn’t around, not that she didn’t want to be, but it’s the truth. Several years of pleasant childhood memories and a lifetime of grief is what she left me, and all you got were tales you should’ve experienced first hand. Ruby you have spent seventeen years loving your daughter unconditionally and being there for her no matter if it’s for better or worse. Yeah you might not being doing it perfectly and I have no idea how to even fathom your predicament, but at least you are there trying. Take it from me, that’s all a daughter ever wants from their mother. It’s also what makes a pretty kick ass dad. *smiles* Chin up, hero. Your story isn’t over yet after all.

Silence filled the air and Ruby’s throat ran dry. Ruby pulled out her scroll to go to her pictures and displayed one of her favorite photos for everyone to see. It was Carmine’s fifteenth birthday. Ruby didn’t lie about the resemblance. the girl had short blonde hair that stopped halfway down her neck in the back and was longer in the front, reaching shoulders. Like her mother, the tips of her hair transitioned to red. The beautiful young woman tried to her hide her smile but her gleeful silver eyes were practically twinkling with joy as Ruby hugged her tightly from behind and a tall, more solid version of Jaune was smushing one of Carmine’s cheeks with an overly dramatic kiss to it. A tiny child no older than three at most was in his big sister’s arms. Garnet had his mother’s hair and eyes but something about the chubby face definitely showed Jaune’s features. The child had red frosting on his face and was reaching eagerly for more cake somewhere out of frame.

Yang noticed the girl took page from her father and wore some regular cargo shorts, but clearly didn’t lack flair by wearing a red crop top that showed off a fresh tattoo of the Arc crest on her toroso. Knowing her sister, that tattoo was most likely practical. The family looked happy, proud; and the mother of it currently sat across the table crying with her head face down in her hands cwhile Weiss and Blake hugged her from each side. Roses may have thorns, anyone who knew roses knew a simple truth. They’re still fragile flowers.

Yang:(Carmine Arc Rose. For you and your mother’s sake, I hope things go well)

xxxx

Though Carmine seemed cold by nature, people were quick learn the opposite. The most recent learner of this was a scared little girl that held on for dear life. It was nighttime, nothing but the sound of pouring rain and the distant glow of red and the warmth of Carmine holding the girl against her body while she sprinted through a mud ridden forest. The little payed no attention to the pain in her side, but the glow of roses, eyes, and flames through her tear filled eyes.

Beowulves chased frantically but then severed immediately by something the girl couldn’t understand, but it looked like the person carrying her. The dead beasts brought no comfort. Not when more followed close behind.

Girl:I-I’m sc...scared!

Carmine:Don’t look at them sweetie, it’ll be fine. Just keep being a brave little girl.

Girl:M...Mommy was back there.

Carmine:.....I know, she’ll be just fine. Your village, there are plenty of people there that will be just fine! Huff..... You got a name?

Mary:Mary.....

Carmine:Oh that’s a beautiful name, Mary. You know I was almost a Mary? Yeah my grandma was a really amazing person and I almost got named something similar to her. Mary is a very strong name!

Mary:You’re a liar! I’m sad, not strong. I want my mommy! Everything his dark and hurts and I want her!

The girl began painfully crying as Carmine followed her trail of roses to avoid getting lost. Things were getting worse. The storm raged and she could feel this girl burning in her arms. Not to mention the unsettling warmth the mixed with the cold rain against her body and dripped to puddles below. Any grimm near by could only be dealt with by many copies of her nearby, but that would only go so far when fear was out full force. Carmine’s boots felt like cement, but she still ran.

Carmine:Mary, you know what do when I miss my mommy? I sing! Yeah, my mom sings the best lullabies that made me feel super strong when I was little! It’s a magic song that makes everyone strong. How about I sing it you and they can sing it your mommy later okay!? But you have to close your eyes to really focus on the words!

Mary:*sniffling* Okay....

Baby deathstalkers swarmed the path made ahead as small Nevermores dove at her. Out of options, Carmine broke from the path, trying to rely on memory to go towards the safe zone while also singing lyrics to her favorite song.

Dream of anything; I'll make it all come true.

Everything you need is all I'll have for you~

Carmine never wavered. No matter how badly her lungs her or nearly slipped, she kept singing all the way to her destination where several other clones were seen racing towards with more civilians to injured or young to go themselves. An orphanage where Nora and Ren stood outside rushing people in while Jaune was keeping the grimm at bay. The sight brought a little ease.

Don't worry, I've got you; nothing will ever harm you.

I'm close by, I'll stay here; through all things, I will be near~

Carmine finally reached Nora and passed off the girl who’s grip weakened overtime. A few lyrics in and Carmine knew she was singing mainly for herself.

Carmine:Get her medical attention! I’m gonna go and find more! There’s still-

Jaune:Wait, it’s too dangerous!

Carmine:I know! That’s why I have to go! That fire is spreading and there’s stragglers pinned down! Dad.....I’m pinned down!

Jaune tensed up and looked at Carmine. No scraps on her and her clothes only soiled by others. It didn’t take long to realize. The man resisted the urge to run out to the ruined town and stood firmly.

Jaune:Carmine...end it. We’ll worry about the consequences later.

Carmine:....Okay.

Across the woods amongst the flames the real Carmine stood bleeding and bruised in front of two Beringel that charged over the vanishing corpses of their fallen with more grimm, her sword stabbed into the ground supporting her weight. Behind all living people that remained finally managed to flee. All except for a woman trapped by house debris. The woman watched this young huntsman stand proudly again. She wasn’t sure what happened next. All she heard was one sentence.

“Close your eyes...” before everything went white. Next thing she knew, Carmine was lifting debris off her as rain and wind washed away any evidence. A relief she didn’t care about in the slightest. She neither had the strength, or the time too. Much like Carmine, who began to pant and teeter. It was clear to the woman that whatever just happened didn’t come without cost as she watched the girl fall to her knees. Though she tried moving, Carmine was spent.

Carmine:Don’t worry...we’re safe....let’s-

Woman:Go...

Carmine:Huh?

Woman:I...my legs. Everything...I can’t move. Just go. I d-don’t think I’d las-

Carmine:Don’t talk like that! The hard parts over! I can-

Woman:Barely walk. *smiles* It’s okay. I don’t blame you. You fought hard.

Carmine:.....I...I’m sorry. *teary eyed*

Woman:Say, I know that face anywhere. Your Lady Rose’s kid. Funny, I thought your eyes were red? My daughter, Mary, she loves your mother. Makes me kinda jealous hehe, but hey I love her too. *crying* Do you know if Mary made it? She was wearing-

Carmine:A black dress, pink ribbons in her hair...

Woman:Yes! Is she safe? I saw you- one of you carry her off.

Carmine:...She’s just fine.

Woman:Good. That’s all....that.....

The woman never finished her sentence. Carmine’s body fell limp on the ground, facing the rain. Even with the cold downpour she could feel the warmth of her own tears, containing her emotions best she could as she looked through her clones eyes to watch Nora take Mary away from the survivors and out of sight to not stir further panic.

Carmine wasn’t sure how long she layed there, but it was long enough for Jaune to find her. The man didn’t say a word. The town was in shambles. Grimm were still fading and his daughter looked tired, but not in serious condition. Unlike the those who didn’t make it. Jaune put Carmine in his arms, carrying her away to safety.

Carmine:......Does mom ever save them all?

Jaune:No, but that never stops her from trying; or mourning.

She clenched her father’s shirt and let herself be fragile, to be a Rose.

Carmine:Next time. Mom and I, we’ll both get it right next time. A happy ending for all!

Jaune:Yeah, I know you will. Together....

[sierraraeck]

The Jailbird and the Mouse

Spencer x Fem!OC (Aundreya)

Masterlist

Summary: When Aundreya shows up to consult on a case, Spencer seems less than pleased to see her, but his actions tell a different story. Bonus chapter!

Category: Smut. Hate fuck. Apparently I’m incapable of writing a single thing without some angst, so we’ve got a sprinkle of that in there at the end, too.

Warnings: Cussing. Choking. Nicknames. Degradation. Cuffs are used. Unprotected penetration, female masturbating, oral (male receiving), fingering. Semi-public at the beginning.

Word Count: 8.5k

A/N: Okay so this is supposed to take place during How to Lose Friends when they are both in their fresh, post-prison forms and are beyond pissed at each other, but you don't have to have read that chapter or the series to understand this. Also, shoutout to @writing-in-april for looking this piece over and helping me make some edits!

Things to Know: All you really have to know is that Aundreya was a criminal who’d already been to and broken out of prison, joined the BAU, Spencer and her had a previous relationship, Aundreya got Spencer sent to prison, broke him out, then took the fall for something Spencer was being accused of that she didn’t do, getting herself sent to prison again.

I’d been called back to help the BAU solve a case. Fascinating how when it was convenient for them, I held some value. But, after that I was just easy to throw in a jail cell to be forgotten about.

I didn’t want to be there, but unfortunately I didn’t have a choice. So, I closed my eyes, and took a long, deep breath before forcing the door open. I had barely entered the room, barely had made eye contact with Hotch standing opposite me, before both my shoulder blades were shoved against the wall behind me, with long fingers wrapping around my throat.

“What is she doing here?” the hiss in Reid’s voice sounded exactly how I’d imagined it in my head preparing for this encounter. He looked almost as bad as me. His curls were going in a million directions, and I could only imagine the amount of times he’d run his hands through them, probably due to stress. His eyes were blood-shot, slightly puffy, and the dark bags underneath seemed more defined. The only thing that contrasted all of that, and let me know his head was still in it, was the darkness he now held in his eyes. There was nothing lighthearted or soft about them anymore, at least, not for the moment and certainly not for me. Plus, there was a red-hot rage I could see boiling at the surface. It was like looking in a funhouse mirror, a warped version of myself being reflected back to me. I’d seen the same fury and darkness in my eyes every morning that was in his now, and the irritation that radiated off him matched my own. Really, the only difference between Spencer and I, was he still had his gun and badge and I didn’t.

“I was invited to help consult,” I snapped through my somewhat restricted breath. “So you better get the fuck off me.”

He gave my throat one last tight squeeze before stepping back, his intense gaze never leaving me. I met his gaze with a wicked smile while brushing my fingers over where the ghost of his hand used to be. I wanted him to see that he didn’t affect me. Angry or not, he held no power in our dynamic anymore.

“Chambers, good to see you,” Derek mocked, giving me a side eye laced with suspicion.

“Can’t say I feel the same,” I deadpanned, then turning on Hotch. “So, why am I here?”

“We have reason to believe that a rogue gang member is kidnapping and killing ex-military if they refuse to join,” Hotch explained with seemingly no emotion, as if he was unaffected by my presence.

“Cool,” I deadpanned again before asking, “So why do you need me?”

“We wanted to know if you know anything or have heard anything-” Derek started.

“Heard anything?” I cut him off with a scoff, “You mean besides the constant clanging of metal bars when I’m not left in complete silence by myself? No, I haven’t heard anything.”

“Can you find them?” Spencer asked as if it would be a difficult task for me.

“So you do want my help,” I clarified.

“I want your skills.”

I let out a disgusted chuckle in response to his quip. Venom dripped from my words as I voiced my thoughts from only moments before stepping into the room. “Oh, I get it. You only want me around when it's convenient for you. Otherwise you just wanna give up on me and let me rot in a cell.”

“What was I supposed to do!”

“What were you supposed to do?” I asked in disbelief, eyes wide. “What were you supposed to do?” I mumbled to myself again in a mocking tone, rolling my eyes. I put my hands on the back of the empty chair in front of me I assumed had held Spencer at one point, and leaned in toward him. He’d retreated behind the table since releasing me, and I quietly snarled towards him, “I don’t know, but sitting there on your tiny, plushy ass, wasn’t it. I’m leaving.”

Spencer was back over to me in a flash, slamming his hand on the door before I could even reach for the handle. Someone got better reflexes. I cocked an eyebrow at him.

“We have a suspect list that we want you to review.” Hotch caught me before I pushed Spencer out of my way.

“Fine. Make it quick.” I looked over the list Hotch gave me that contained about 30 men, none of which rang any bells. “This was a waste of time.”

“Hold on, guys,” Garcia trotted in, “I just found something.” She was in such a rush that she initially didn’t see me, bee-lining it straight for Hotch. Handing the iPad over to him, her eyes lifted to take in the rest of the room. That’s when she noticed me. Her eyes grew to the size of beach balls, and her perfectly done lips hung open. I tried not to feel too hurt, knowing that my presence would come as a shock to her, but it still stung seeing her at a loss for words, possibly even scared. She’d really been the only person who still had any hope left for me, and I was starting to wonder if that was true anymore.

My voice softened as I greeted, “Hey, Penelope.”

She struggled for words, a few ‘uhs’ and ‘ums’ headed my direction, ultimately being saved by Hotch. “Dave, you’re with me. Prentiss, Morgan, I want you to go to the ME, Garcia we’ll need you on call, and JJ, Lewis, I want you to go talk to this man.”

“What about me?” Spencer asked.

“You’re going to stay here and watch her,” Hotch commanded. I started laughing at Spencer’s visible discomfort. Spencer glared at me before opening his mouth to argue, but Hotch stopped him with a voice filled with authority, “I know you won’t be able to focus out there if you know she’s still here unattended. Let’s go.”

When everyone had left and the door shut behind them, I sang, “Well if it isn’t Doctor Reid drawing the short end of the stick, yet again.”

“Just sit down and shut up,” he tried to order with confidence as he took his own advice, sitting as far away from me as possible. Not once had he looked me in the eyes since I’d initially walked in and he had attacked me. Sure, his eyes were on me, but they never connected with mine.

“Is that a demand, doctor?” I challenged him.

“No, but it could be. I just don’t want to be the one responsible for letting you get away.” He shrugged in his chair, resting the ankle of his leg on the knee of the other.

“So you’re just gonna trust me to do what you ask?” I questioned. Throughout the entire time I’d known Spencer, he’d never gotten super riled up over something, but this was a whole different Spencer, one that I didn’t recognize or know . He was more on edge, confident, and clearly willing to wrap his hand around my throat with no hesitation. A type of Spencer I was more than happy to get to know. And let’s face it, I’d been in prison for 15 months. There wasn’t a ton of action going on in there that I wanted to get involved with. I just wanted to see how far I could push him before he snapped. “You don’t trust me, and you know you can’t. I put you in prison, just because I could,” I shrugged, contradicting what I’d insinuated earlier for my own entertainment, “and you think that I won’t just walk away from you when given the chance?”

“You’ve had the chance. For the past three minutes and forty-six seconds you could have left and you didn’t. What’s keeping you here?” he smugly fired back. Oh yeah, he’s definitely going to be fun to mess with.

“What’s keeping you here?” I copied, “Why’d Hotch bench you again? Because you can’t focus when I’m around?”

“No one can focus with you around!” he huffed hotly.

“Not well, but they certainly can do better than what you’re doing right now,” I patronized, “What is it about me that makes you all so nervous, huh? I’m just another criminal who happens to be a former co-worker. I thought you were used to working with those day in and day out.”

“Criminals or co-workers?”

“Either.”

“None of them are like you,” he bit.

“Oh I know,” I ran my tongue over my lips, “So I’ll ask again, what is it about me that makes me so different?”

He looked up at me. In contrast to the first time he locked eyes with me, his expression was stone cold. “You were a part of this team, and you betrayed us. You betrayed me. I don’t know how I could’ve been so stupid to believe you were actually helping us! I just want to know why you picked me. You were going to take one of us down, why’d you choose me?” I could see the gears spinning in his head, and was about to answer when he frustratedly added, “Was it because you thought I’m the weakest?”

That’s it. That’s what’s always made him tick. And he used the present tense. We were still an entire table length apart, so I started slowly sauntering toward him. I prodded, “Is that what you think? You believe you’re the weakest on the team? Or do you just think that’s what I thought?”

“We all have our roles,” he responded, but not nearly as confident as he had been before.

“That’s not an answer,” I pushed.

“You still haven’t answered me, either,” he growled, and I decided to let this one go. We didn’t need to fully delve into his insecurities, no matter how much I wanted to.

“It was similar to that. You were the most afraid of me, I could smell it in the air.” I closed my eyes and pretended to revel in the stench of fear. “But, I could’ve gotten any one of them if I wanted.”

Spencer scoffed at that, “I think you overestimate your abilities.”

“I don’t,” I quickly fired back, “I could’ve gotten any of them, and to be honest, I was going to go after Derek, or maybe Emily, but then you spoke up from the corner of the room and I knew it had to be you.”

“Why?”

“Why this, Aundreya, and why that, Aundreya? Is that the only question you can ask?”

“Is it the only question you can’t answer?”

I was about halfway to him now, and decided to give him a little false hope. “I picked you, not because of your intellect, or how the rest of the team coddles you, or how relationship starved you are. I picked you because I could see something in your eyes that was different, something dark. And once I heard your full back story, I realized just how similar the two of us are.”

“We are nothing alike,” he insisted.

“Really? Because had you made one different choice or one thing went just a little bit wrong, you could have ended up just like me, with no family and no one to give a shit about you or what you do, except for the cops who just wanted you locked up and controlled.” I was dangerously close to him now, his head tilted to look at me, but he didn’t cower away. He actually seemed to welcome it. Which reminded me of something, “After knowing all of that, my past and everything I was, you still agreed to let me on your team.”

“I was the last person to say yes to you joining,” he informed me. This was news to me, but I couldn’t even be sure if he was telling me the truth. “I didn’t think it was a good idea for you to be working with us, but I was outnumbered and outranked.”

“No, you caved to their wishes,” I twisted his words to suit my needs, “Like you caved to mine.” I slowly reached down to place a hand on his chest. He eyed it all the way until I made contact with him, and it was like flipping a switch. He grabbed my wrist and held it close as he pushed out of his chair, the wheels spinning it wildly back into the monitor. He reached for my other wrist, which I let him grab, and held me against the wall, arms pinned next to my head. I did everything I could to not smirk. And he’s still caving.

“I didn’t want you here. I resisted the idea of you being around us,” he spat.

“Like you’re resisting the idea of being around me right now?” I arched an eyebrow, scanning him from head to toe, and I couldn’t help but let my gaze linger on a few spots. He opened his mouth to say something, but he shut it again, locking his jaw. I could see his genius mind at work, trying to come up with some way out of the little mouse trap I’d set up for him. I watched his eyes trail down to my lips and neck, soaking it all in. When his eyes met mine again, I tried to reach for him, but he forcefully slammed my hands back, pinning me to the wall again. Though, I wanted him to touch me this time. He was taking too long to make a move for my liking, so I decided if I couldn’t use my arms, I might as well use my legs.

All of his weight was already leaning toward me, so it wasn’t difficult to wrap my right leg around his waist and bring him all the way to me. The moment that they were within inches of my face, I attacked his lips. I was almost disappointed by the fact that he didn’t seem surprised at all, as if he knew how impatient I was and knew that I would force the first move. But, I wasn’t disappointed for long.

Spencer’s whole body was pressed against mine as he quickly swiped his tongue across my bottom lip, looking for entrance. I granted it, but I wasn’t going to give him the complete dominance that he wanted over the kiss. Instead, our tongues slid over each other’s searching for more than the other was willing to give. It was hot and messy, and he released his grip on my wrists, moving them to apply the same amount of force to my jaw. With my hands free, I made quick work of the buttons on his dress shirt, ripping it open. I was expecting skin and sighed when I found yet another shirt. This man and his layers.

Spencer took advantage of me sighing, giving him more access to my mouth, which I wanted to be annoyed about, but couldn’t care to be. I decided to make better use of my hands, running them down the sides of his body as he wrapped his behind my back. He pulled away from me so abruptly when I tried to massage him through his slacks, he basically dropped me on the floor. It was like being left out in a cold winter storm, just barely out of arm's reach of warmth.

Spencer shook his head, eyes on the floor, as if that would clear his mind of what clouded it, which was me. But I wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. “There. You got what you wanted.”

I gaped at him before retorting, “We both know it wasn’t just me who got what I wanted. I’m sure you had a hard time pulling away.”

He glared at me as he rolled the chair back toward the desk and took a seat, “Not really. I have important work to do.”

I stood there staring at him trying to compose himself. His face was red and he tugged at his pants before crossing his leg over the other. I pressed my lips together, but still failed to contain the small laugh that escaped through my nose.

“Sure,” I mocked, “Especially since everyone else on the team is already doing that work for you.” He didn’t look up from whatever papers were on the table, trying in vain to ignore me, though I wasn’t ready to have his attention off me yet.

I shut the folder that he was in the middle of reading, not like he was actually reading it considering how long it was taking him to flip the page, and sat right on top of it. He was about to reach for it again, but retracted his hand at lightning speed when my legs got in the way. I flashed another mockingly sweet smile his way, but he looked out toward the window, right next to the wall I’d just come from. I swung my legs back and forth off the side of the table just a bit, careful not to completely kick Spencer in the shin, though I couldn’t help but let my toes accidentally tap him a few times. As with all of the other times I’d touched him, he moved out of the way, uncrossing his legs with a perfect foot-sized gap in between his knees. I rested my foot in that small gap on the chair, rolling his body closer to me. Then, for no other reason than wanting to feel him squirm underneath me, I plopped down on his lap, my legs straddling his. I pretty much had him locked in his seat.

“What are you doing?” he questioned, a look of complete indifference gracing his face, but I knew it was just a front.

“Just making sure you’re doing your job,” I replied, winking at him.

“And… how do you think this is helping me do my job?”

“I’m making sure you’re paying attention to me,” I whispered in his ear seductively, lacing my fingers together on the back of his neck, “Plus, I’m doing what you asked me to. How did you put it? Sit down and shut-”

Using his thumb and forefinger, he pinched my cheeks and brought my lips to his forcefully. The kiss was just as hungry as the last, teeth clashing and tongues furiously fighting. He moved his long fingers onto my hips with a bruising grip, which I had absentmindedly started grinding against his. He pulled away from me for a moment, and his harsh tone reminded me that this was nothing like the last time we’d been together, when we’d both been a bit more innocent. “You never did have any manners at work.”

I smirked, “I know. Imagine my manners at home.”

A low, almost inaudible groan came from Spencer’s throat at my suggestion, but he tried to cover it up by moving my hair out of the way and latching his lips onto the side of my neck. I gasped at the contact of his teeth pulling at my soft flesh, paired with the feeling of his growing bulge pressed against my core. His fingers gripped my hips harder and moved them faster, drawing a small whimper from my lips. I felt him smile as he trailed kisses down my neck to my collar bone, leaving a single bite mark there. I tried so hard to contain my high-pitched moan when he moved one of his hands from my waist to pinch one of my nipples through my shirt.

But I was supposed to be the clear-headed one, so I forced myself to not get too wrapped up in the feeling. If I wanted to get to my end goal, I was going to have to leave him wanting more, which unfortunately in turn meant leaving myself in the same condition.

My hips had gotten faster along with Spencer’s hands, but when I felt him start to buck his hips up against me, I knew that he was getting close and it had to end. Immediately, I stopped my movements and untangled myself from him, but not before dragging a finger up the column of his throat, sneering, “Too bad. I could’ve helped you, had you done anything to help me.”

I left that open for interpretation, either as a jab to his masculinity or to what started my rage in the first place: being left in prison. He didn’t ask for clarification either, clearly too bothered by being left on edge. He did, however, follow up with, “Help you? Why would I want to do that? You’re a terrible person.”

I grinned as if receiving a medal of honor, “That I am, Doctor.”

I moved the lay down on the couch while Spencer attempted to refocus on his work. I made a show of sighing a couple times and rolling around ‘to find a comfortable position’ on the couch, just to piss him off. I could tell it was working based on his clenched fists turning white, and the way his leg was jumping. He was resting his head in his hand, which almost perfectly shielded my face from his.

He still wasn’t turning the page, so I offered, “Can you flip the page by yourself, or do you need some help?”

He wasn’t given the opportunity to respond, because Hotch, followed by most of the team, came barreling through the door.

“Colby Ulton, 43 years old, has a long record and wasn’t home,” JJ announced, following Hotch. It’d been a while since I had to deal with their inhuman pace when it came to talking about unsubs and profiles, so most of the stuff they said next flew over my head.

I was way behind in the conversation, but none of that mattered when Hotch turned to me, “Colby Ulton. I want you on him.” He'd barely gotten the command out before I was reaching for the door handle.

“I don’t.” The words were hot and dry and coming from none other than Doctor Reid. I rolled my eyes. He moved to step in front of the door, blocking my passage out again, leaning casually with his back against it, arms crossed. Our faces were barely centimeters apart.

“Why not?” I asked in a mock-curious voice.

“I don’t trust you. Who’s to say you won’t just run off? Then we’d let a high-profile criminal walk free. Plus, we’re not even sure he’s the right man,” Spencer pointed out. I was going to point out how I had just made that same argument about me leaving, and he refuted it himself only to bring it back up now, but I didn’t get the chance.

“He’s the best we’ve got right now,” Derek countered. I could tell he sort of just wanted me out of the room, but Spencer’s motives appeared very different.

He never took his eyes off of mine as he recited, “We think it’s a rogue gang member who’s either left or been kicked out within the past year. Ulton’s been in prison, which could mean he’s gone rogue, or it could mean he’s joined a new gang, one that, as you probably know, wouldn’t allow this type of acting out. Either way, he hasn’t demonstrated gang affiliated behavior in almost three years. Not to mention he had his tattoo removed and is out of our age range. I don’t think putting her on, most likely, the wrong man’s trail is worth the risk of letting her walk free.”

The room was silent as we all waited for someone else to make the first move. I decided to be that person. “So what do you suggest they do with me, hm?” I questioned, walking my two fingers up his chest with each word. Then I leaned in and made it very clear, “Because I am not going back to prison.”

I bit his earlobe on the way back, and I saw the way his pupils dilated just slightly at the feeling, “I’ll watch her for the night.”

“What?” Derek and I said at the same time, but our facial expressions were very different.

“Yes,” he stated, more confidently now, “She has nothing to do right now, but we might need her later in the investigation, so sending her all the way back to prison doesn’t make sense.”

“And you'll make sure she doesn’t escape?” Derek questioned.

“She hasn’t so far, has she?” Spencer challenged. When he got unnerved looks from the rest of the team, he assured, shooting a small smirk my way, “Trust me, she won’t.” How cute. He thinks he can wrap his skinny little fingers around my neck and pull a moan from me once, and all the sudden he’s in control. He switched our position, pinning me up against the door, clasping the handcuffs back around my wrists in front of me. I was starting to think he had a thing for pushing people into walls. It was his turn to whisper in my ear, “And you won't want to.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

When we arrived back at his apartment, I took a moment to survey the room. It looked almost exactly as it had the last time I’d been there. Books piled up everywhere, papers strewn all over the desk, a little dark and dusty, maybe a bit more worn, but nothing too out of the ordinary. The only difference was that it no longer suited him as well anymore. He used to be this shy, studious, loner-type that didn’t really like people, and he had a certain innocence about him. There was nothing innocent about him anymore. He didn’t seem shy either, much more confident; still studious and a loner though. However, I bet he liked having at least one person over at all times, or not being home at all. It meant that he didn’t have to be alone with his own mind, and after being in solitude myself, and knowing that he’d been in there too, that feeling of complete silence, utter aloneness, was something we’d never want to experience again. We were honestly perfect for each other in that way.

The other thing I’d noticed, based on what I'd seen of him within the last few hours and what I knew prison could do to a person, I guessed he went off of instinct rather than intelligence more than he ever had in his life.

Spencer had to take the time to shrug off his satchel and kick off his shoes, neither of which I even had. All I had was myself and what I was wearing, which wasn’t much. At least I wasn’t in an orange jumpsuit anymore.

“Wow, you’ve really renovated the place,” I snickered. Spencer didn’t say anything, just rolled his eyes and brushed past me. I forced my wrists outward a couple times, making a clanking sound with the cuffs, asking, “You gonna take these off?”

He faced me with a smirk and shook his head slightly, “Don’t think so.” Pulling out a chair at the puny kitchen table, he sat down, and I felt like we were much in the same position we’d been in at the office. I was in his home turf, if I could even call it that, but I wasn’t just going to let him be in charge.

I decided to go straight for the jugular, “Why’d you bring me home, Spence?”

“This isn’t home, not for you,” he snapped.

I scoffed, “Doesn’t look like it is for you, either, but that doesn’t change the question.”

“I told you. I didn’t want to risk you running away.”

“You didn’t want to lose me?” I inquired. He could hear the way I was rephrasing it to change the narrative, not like I was wrong, but he successfully dodged it.

“I didn’t want to lose an asset over the wrong man, tipping the right one off, and potentially risking him going underground. I’m just trying to catch an unsub,” he shrugged.

“You’ve got an answer for everything, don’t you?” I shook my head in amusement.

“You don’t?” he cocked an eyebrow.

“Of course I do,” I quickly answered.

“Then answer this,” Spencer squared his shoulders, now completely facing me, “Why didn’t you run the moment you got the chance?”

“I had three FBI personnel in the car with me, then a team of BAU agents surrounding me, and then was left alone in the same room as an agent who can shoot 100 on his test. I am many things, but I am not stupid nor am I suicidal.”

“How’d you know I shot 100?” Spencer followed up.

I smiled, “I know things.”

“How about all the chances you got when you were in prison? You’ve broken out plenty of times before, why not do it again?” He was leaning forward, and he seemed genuinely curious.

It was a good question, one that I actually hadn’t pre-thought the answer to. Frankly, I wasn’t expecting to even make it this far. “I was biding my time.”

“For..?”

“Leverage.” It was a simple word, but one that seemed to make a great impact. Spencer leaned back in his chair and contemplated my answer. It wasn’t a complete lie either, I just didn’t want to give away too many details.

Spencer finally whispered, “Against?”

I flashed him a wicked smile. “You.” His face contorted into something I couldn’t fully recognize, eyes narrowing. “You, Spencer. I’ve been waiting for you to make an error, a mistake. That was the one flaw in my plan, that while I picked the easiest to emotionally manipulate, I picked the hardest to mentally manipulate. And you don’t make very many mental mistakes, do you Spencer?” I asked, approaching him. I’m really hoping you’d like to cash one in right now, though. I could practically see the internal argument being fought inside Spencer’s head; one side telling him to give in, it wasn’t that bad, the other telling him to resist, that somehow, this would corrupt him further. I needed the former to win. “You wouldn’t let yourself get caught up in the moment, would you? You wouldn’t crack, take what you want, what you need, what you deserve against your better judgement. Because you’re all brain, Spencer. All brain, and no heart.”

That’s what did it.

Spencer literally swept me off my feet, tossing me onto the couch like a rag doll. His hand returned to my throat as if it belonged there, and he pushed open my legs with his knees. My hands may have been cuffed, but they could still be useful. I moved them to start unbuttoning his shirt when he swatted them away. He spat, “I’m not heartless. Not like you.”

“No,” I agreed, “You’re worse. At least I can admit to what I am. You just hide behind a badge and gun.”

Spencer shoved two fingers in my mouth, probably trying to shut me up. I smirked, running my tongue up and down the long digits, making sure to give him a preview of what was to come if he’d let it. His other hand trailed down the side of my body until it reached the waistband of the pants I was wearing. Forcefully, he yanked them down, taking my panties with them. I knew I was already pooling, but of course he had to rub it in. Snarky, he mocked, “For someone who talks a big game, you’re already looking pretty weak.”

I silently cursed my body for finding him arousing, and was about to have to come up with a clever comment when I saw Spencer pause. He was charging straight into this, and then he just stopped. I tilted my head, “Worried you don’t have it in you?”

Spencer met my eyes, and cooly stated, “I’m not going to let you be my mistake.”

Dammit. When I felt him start to pull away, I knew I had to say something to get him to stay. I needed to turn this into an advantage in his eyes, not just mine. “Why? So you can let this rage build up inside of you, eat away at your every thought, until you snap? What then? You lash out during a case, which causes someone to die, either because of your incapabilities or at your hand? And what for? Because you’re still mad at me? I’m right here in front of you, Spencer! You’re never going to get a chance like this again, so just do something!” By the end, it was a plea, and one that was brutally answered.

Spencer pushed two of his fingers inside me, already moving at a quick pace. I let out a small yelp at the sensation which clearly pleased Spencer. I attempted to refocus on unbuttoning his shirt, which became increasingly difficult because of how he was curling his fingers to hit that spot just right. I barely finished, pushing his shirt away from his shoulders when he leaned away from me, taking both of his fingers with him. I was about to complain until I saw him dropping his shirt to the ground and unbuckling his belt, pushing his own pants and underwear out of the way in a similar fashion as he’d done to mine. He pumped his fist over his shaft a couple of times before lining himself up between my wide open legs. He teased my clit with the tip of his cock, and I could feel the precum beading there. I bit my lip as I looked up at him.

Spencer’s eyes were blown when he quietly demanded, “Say it.” He wants me to beg. I was okay with him thinking he was in charge for now, so I played into it by shaking my head. He slammed my cuffed wrists against the arm of the couch just above my head, bringing his face so close I could feel his lips brush mine as he repeated, “Say it.”

It was more forceful the second time, and something about his hot breath on my face and the feeling of his hips trying, and failing, to stay still against mine pulled a whimper all too genuine from my lips, “Punish me.”

At my words, he slammed his cock in my entrance, setting a merciless pace. With no time to adjust to his length, the heat burning between my legs got fiercer. The sounds of his hips hitting mine filled the room, both of us trying to control our moans, not wanting the other to know how much we were really enjoying it. My back arched off the couch, sending my fingers over the arm, brushing over thin objects on the small table there. A pen and paper clip.

I pressed my lips together to contain the grin that just about took over my face. Looking down at Spencer, who was way too busy biting marks into my skin, I could tell he hadn’t noticed the detrimental error I’d just realized he’d made. I made quick work of unclasping the cuffs from around my wrists, but left them on loosely just for show.

The coil in my stomach was getting tighter and tighter, and while I usually would have tried to control myself, I let the moans tear through my lungs. This caught Spencer’s attention, perring up at me with a twinkle in his eyes, one that told me he thought he had me. He mouthed into my neck, “This too much for you to handle, Jailbird?”

I scoffed at his pet name. Alright Doctor Reid, you’ve had your fun. Now let me show you how to really be in charge. “Not in the slightest, Mouse,” I quipped. Before he could think, I wrapped my legs around his waist, and put my hands on the back of his head. I flipped us off the side of the couch, landing on top of Spencer. With the wind knocked out of him, I quickly grabbed his wrist, clasping one of the cuffs around it, looping the chain behind the couch leg, then synching the other around his free wrist. I placed his head on the ground and leaned back, tracing patterns on his chest.

It took him a moment to realize what had just happened, but I saw the moment the light went off. “You filthy bitch.”

I chuckled, “It seems as though that genius memory of yours forgot that I’m a criminally sound escape artist.”

He was fuming, but contained himself long enough to ask, “What changed?” I raised an eyebrow at him. “Since last time? You had no problem letting me take control then.”

I simply stated with disgust, “I was soft then.”

“Who’s to say you aren’t still now?” Spencer challenged.

I laced my fingers with his as I pinned them to the ground, my turn to be the one looking down on him, faces only centimeters apart. We locked eyes as I explained, “You can see it too, I know you can. I wake up and see it in the mirror every day, and I see it in you too now. It’s in your eyes. That darkness. That feeling of destruction, of being broken, of being a monster. It’s there. I can see it like it’s my own.”

I expected him to snap at me. To argue with a clever quip. But he didn’t. Spencer leaned up as far as he could and kissed me. Not in the angry, predatory-like way that we had earlier, but really kissed me. I was so taken aback by the gesture that I practically jumped off him after a few seconds. I hated myself for letting it happen for even that long.

I stormed away from him, hissing, “Don’t try to get my sympathy now that you’re the one chained like a dirty animal. I’m not gonna fall for it.”

I saw something quick flash across his face before it hardened again. I could feel his eyes following my every move as I walked away, so I decided to make a show of it. I swished my hips back and forth, and even bent all the way over to pick up our clothes for no reason, just so he could have a perfect view between my legs. I heard the rattle of the cuffs against the couch and smirked to myself.

Tossing the clothes as far away as possible, I reached under my shirt to unclasp my bra, slipping it out one of the arm holes. I spun it around my index finger a couple of times before letting it fly off in the direction of the rest of our clothes. Toying with the hem of my shirt, I rhythmically moved it around my body so that he could only see some exposed skin at a time. I slowly pulled it higher and higher until I removed the garment completely. Standing completely bare in front of him, looking down on his naked body, I’d never felt more in control.

Spencer was drilling holes into me as I got down on my knees, crawling toward him. Again, his hands shot forward only to be stopped by the metal. I tutted, “Now, now, Mouse. That’s not how this works.”

I stroked a single finger up his length, and when it brushed over the tip, he squeezed his eyes shut. I wetted my lips as I wrapped a single hand around his cock, starting at an agonizingly slow pace, a stark contrast to the one he’d set earlier. I had barely started moving at a faster pace when Spencer started to buck his hips up into my hand. I slammed his hips back down with my other arm, giving him a cold look. His hips stilled and I knew he was getting desperate.

I flattened my palm against his lower belly, making sure he’d stay in place as I steadily picked up the pace. Spencer threw his head back when I swiped my tongue over his tip, and huffed when I retracted my hands, breaking contact all together.

I hummed, “Actually, this isn’t that interesting.” I scooted back on the floor, holding eye contact with his piercing irises as I spread my legs wide open for him to see. Neither one of us has had our release yet, so I might as well take mine and leave him high and dry.

I brushed my fingertips down my body, cupping my breasts on the way, until I reached my clit. I started to rub circles over the bundle of nerves, not realizing how close I already was. I let out exaggerated moans as I continued my ministrations, steadily pushing myself toward the edge.

“Stop.” It was barely a whisper, and I wasn’t sure if I even heard it, so I ignored it. Right as another moan ripped through my lungs, I heard Spencer say, louder and more demanding this time, “Stop.”

I was too close to stop. I barely had the mental capacity to smirk down at him before I felt my release crash over me like a tidal wave. For dramatic effect, I whined out Spencer’s name as my walls clenched around nothing, helping myself through my orgasm. Slowly coming down from my high, my head lulled back, release seeping into his rug.

Barely allowing myself to catch my breath, I leaned forward onto my knees, and looked at Spencer’s face, which was red with anger or desperation I couldn’t tell, but brought my lips down on his dick regardless. He grunted at the sensation, and I could feel the heat radiating off of him. I swirled my tongue around him until I couldn’t anymore, opting to just trace a protruding vein instead. I started to hollow out my cheeks when he bucked up into me, forcing me to take all of him in at once. He groaned when I started gagging around his length, and when I coughed after pulling off him, he had the audacity to laugh.

“Having trouble there, Jailbird?” Spencer smugly asked. I looked down at his length laying against his stomach and saw that it was a deep red, and had to have been painfully hard at that point. With that in mind, along with my recent release, I crawled over him.

I looked at him as I hovered my pussy just above his cock. “I wouldn’t be worried about me. I’d be worried about how you’re gonna take care of yourself with your hands cuffed if I decided I’m done with you.”

That threat wiped the smug look right off his face. I was already wet again, and allowed him to only barely feel what was waiting for him if he behaved, lowering myself down so his length was just brushing my lips.

His face contorted and then he said the word of my victory, “Please.”

Taking hold of his cock in one hand, I lined myself up, and slowly sunk down. He filled me up completely, a bit thicker than I remembered, and I sat comfortably in his lap. This was clearly what Spencer wanted, but there was no way in hell it was going to be that easy. I just sat there looking at him, and based on the crazed look on his face, he was expecting me to start moving immediately.

We stared each other down for a moment before his whole body jerked forward, hands yanking on the cuffs. It was my turn to laugh at his pathetic struggles, but I still didn’t have quite what I wanted yet. Raising my hips up, I quickly slammed them down, pulling the loudest groan I’d heard from Spencer. When I didn’t move again, he started squirming underneath me, and I asked, “What is it you want me to do, Mouse?”

Then he broke, his strangled pleas music to my ears, “God, fuck me, please, just fuck me!”

I grinned as I captured his lips in a vicious kiss, pulling his bottom lip between my teeth. Steadying myself with my palm on his chest, I lifted my hips up, only to let them fall back into his lap. I started slower than either of us wanted, letting myself adjust to his full size before bouncing freely on his dick. The sounds of our heavy moans filled the air, sweat collecting on our bodies.

I was honestly surprised at how long Spencer had lasted when he let out one final shriek before coming undone below me. He’d given up, completely relaxed on the floor as I started chasing my second orgasm. Spencer peered up at me through hooded eyes, and soon enough starting letting out cries, and I knew I was pushing him. I didn’t want to completely overwhelm him but I was so close…

I wouldn’t get there, not yet anyway, because Spencer did something I was not expecting. The couch hit the floor with a loud thud, giving Spencer the freedom to move his arms. He wrapped the chain of the cuffs around the back of my neck and flipped me over in one swift motion, almost identical to how I’d just done it to him.

I was completely caught off guard, and let a surprised squeak leave my lips. I was almost impressed. Almost.

As if he could see straight into my mind, Spencer remarked, “I’m a quick study.” His entire body weight was over me, and there was very little wiggle room for an escape.

I followed Spencer’s eyes as he scanned around the room, glanced at his wrists, then sighed when he spotted his pants. Must’ve been where he put the key.

I raised my pitch and snidely sang like a schoolgirl, “Whatcha gonna do Mouse? You gonna fuck me like the inmate you are, or are you gonna free yourself, hm?”

Pressing his hands down on either side of my perfectly laid out ones above my head, the chain between the cuffs digging into my forearms, he chided, “I’m sure I can handle you just fine with them on. I’m not quite done with you yet, Jailbird.”

My walls fluttered around his cock at the gravelly sound of his voice and the threat that accompanied it. It’s as if he’s chained to me. I shuddered happily at the thought.

“Is that what this is about?” Spencer hissed, clearly catching my pleased look and the way my pussy pulled him in a little more at his harsh words, “You just enjoy seeing me as some twisted killer?”

“I enjoy seeing you for who you truly are.”

I wasn’t able to form another coherent thought after that one, the pace Spencer was pounding into me like one I’d never felt. He fucked his cum from only seconds ago back into me, the wet sound of our mixing fluids filling the room. I could barely focus on where his hands had moved to, teasing my nipples, because the fire between my legs was jumping higher and higher. As it finally burned through me in the sweetest way possible, I reached to grab onto anything, the first thing my fingers found being Spencer’s hair. He growled when I tugged, but his pace never let up.

As I came down from my high, Spencer didn’t stop. The feelings were becoming too strong, too overpowering, pleasure bordering on pain. I tried to pull my hips away from his, but there was nothing I could do. To stop my squirming, he sat back slightly and pressed his large palms down on my hip bones. Moving also changed the angle he was slamming into me, now bottoming out with each thrust. I needed some reprieve.

“Spencer,” I whined, but there was a nothingness in his eyes.

His hands snaked up to my throat, applying massive pressure to my windpipe. “Is this what you wanted?” Spencer yelled, “Is this what you think I truly am?”

I was having trouble getting the air into my lungs, let alone respond. I wanted to force him to face his reality of being an ex-con, knowing how shitty it was to be on the inside and just letting me sit in there. A consequence of my own actions, but considering I was doing it to save him, I was looking for a little bit more effort on the getting out process.

But he’d left me in there. He didn’t care. He didn’t care despite the fact that he knew what I was going through, that I could tell he was still dealing with his own PTSD and not well, and that everything had changed for him. People looked at him and treated him differently. He was a different person. Corrupt. And he’d only been in there for not even three months.

I’d been in there for five times as long.

I wanted him to realize just how much damage him and his useless team were doing to me by not helping me get out. I wanted him to realize how fucked up that was, and how terrible of a person that made him. I wanted him to realize he was just as big of a monster as I was.

I accomplished that. But I underestimated how much darkness he’d really been holding back.

My head started to feel light, and I could tell I was on the brink of my third release. The sound of skin slapping skin was sinful and I couldn’t focus on anything other than the feeling of his tip hitting my a-spot, the way my legs were shaking around his body, the way the muscles in his back felt against my nails as I clawed them down it. My release came quicker than Spencer’s, who wasn’t too far behind me. His thrusts became shallower, as he spilled into me for the second time. It was as if all the energy had been drained out of me in an instant, along with my anger and hatred. Spencer rolled off of me, and I saw his figure weakly collapse to the ground.

It was an eerie calm, the sound of absolute nothingness, the only disturbance being our labored breathing.

I didn’t know how long it’d been when Spencer’s voice, the softest I’d heard it since the day’s start, whispered, “Are you okay?”

I glanced at him with a confused look. He let out a small sigh at my non response, collecting himself before walking over to his long forgotten pants for the cuffs key. After freeing his wrists, he walked back over to me and helped me up, ushering me to the bathroom.

I could tell he was examining me, but it wasn’t until I stood in front of the mirror that I realized why. “Look at those bruises around your neck, Jailbird. They suit you.”

The bruises were deep and already turning a nice purple. I scanned the rest of me finding more bruises on my hips, thighs, shoulders, wrists, and not to mention the bite mark on my collar. I scanned Spencer next, his only bruises coming from his wrists and the red marks I left on his back. “I wasn’t expecting that from you.”

He met my eyes in the mirror, “What were you expecting?”

I shook my head, “I don’t know.” I truly didn’t. I went into it knowing I wanted to force him to see everything he had, everything he was, but I guess I didn’t really think about what that would force me to see. My exhaustion started to give way to a heap of emotions, and a single, involuntary tear escaped my eye. Spencer brushed his fingers over my neck, simultaneously pulling my hair behind my shoulder.

He kissed the tender, bruised skin, and I remembered the times before, the times when it felt like we’d really been in love. I felt his breath on me as he mumbled, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

I turned on my heels to face him, “You didn’t.”

I didn’t know what compelled him to confess what I never thought he would, but he sounded deeply ashamed when admitting, “I wanted to.”

“What stopped you?” I was genuinely curious. We’d hurt each other in the most extreme ways before today, getting the other sent to a cage in hell, betraying each other.

“I’m broken, but I’m not beyond repair, and hurting you would make me someone that I don’t want to be.”

I gave him a tired smile, and all I could muster was, “Pretty convincing.”

“I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“Don’t be, you didn’t. You couldn’t,” I assured him. It was the truth.

“I should’ve,” he bit, looking down at his hands, which were so delicately holding my waist I couldn’t be sure he was even touching me.

“Why?” I questioned, the seriousness evident in my voice, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He shook his head, and a stray curl or two tickled my forehead. “I could’ve.”

“I trusted you not to.” I clasped my hands together and rested them on his back.

Spencer’s shaky voice matched his glistening eyes as they locked with mine, “I just wasn’t sure. All I know is that I scare myself sometimes.”

I pressed my forehead against his own, “Well, then I guess we’re two people who have nothing to fear other than ourselves.”

Read the full series

Taging some people:

@justanothetfangirl @kris-stuff @blameitonthenight21 @wooya1224 @unded-bride @swiftingday @dezzxmx @andiebeaword @psychicdonuts @aperrywilliams @goldentournesol @homoose

[waitimcomingtoo]

Hey, so never really request things, but I really like your writing so here goes nothing. Would you be willing to write a Tom Holland and Reader fic where the reader has a stalker and her and Tom are best friends, but she’s too scared and panicked to tell anyone until one night when she realizes a cats following her when she’s walking home and she runs to Tom’s instead. Really fluffy and love confessions please? If not, that’s ok too, I love all your work!❤️

Every Smile You Fake

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: You can’t tell your best friend about your stalker

Warning: a stalker and an incredibly unrealistic police procedure

Masterlist

“Happy birthday, pretty lady.” The ladies in your office greeted you as you arrived for your internship. You beamed as they enveloped you in hugs, a chorus of birthday wishes eliciting from the group.

“Thank you, thank you.” You smiled as you hugged them back, squeezing whoever’s hand you could reach.

“Your boyfriend left you something on your desk.” One of your co-workers winked at you, making the rest of the girls ‘ooo’ and ‘ahh’.

“We’ve been over this, Tammy. I don’t have a boyfriend.” You reminded her as you brushed some hair out of your face. Tom had been seen around the office too many times for them to believe you were actually just friends, as you claimed to be.

“Oh yeah? Tell that to the giant bouquet in your office.” Tammy turned you around and pushed you towards your desk. You could see a large bouquet of yellow and red roses on your desk and blushed a little at the sight. You looked over your shoulder at Tammy and swatted her hands away before walking over to your desk. You did that thing where you pretend to ignore the gift until you’ve read the card and picked up the note sticking out of the bouquet.

“What’s it say?” One of your co-workers asked as they rest of them leaned in to listen. You rolled your eyes at them before reading the note out loud.

“My love,

Today is the most special day of the year. It’s the anniversary of the day you graced us with your presence. I regard that as the greatest thing to ever happen to this earth. Happy birthday.” You read, earning a series of aw’s from the rest of the office.

“He called you his love.” Tammy gushed.

“Does he know he’s not your boyfriend?” Another co-worker asked and the rest laughed.

“Yes, he does. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have phone calls to be answering.” You dismissed the girls and got to work. The rest of the day went by quickly thanks to the ladies in your office. They surprised you with a cupcake at lunch and walked with you to your car at the end of the workday.

“So how are you celebrating? We’d love to take you out for dinner.” Tammy asked as she unlocked her car.

“Thank you, but I have plans with Tom.” You said, anticipating the reaction it’d get. Sure enough, Tammy put her hand over her heart and grinned.

“Ohhh. Of course she does.” She teased you.

“Stop it. He’s just a friend.” You reminded them. You stopped short when you noticed an unfamiliar car parked next to yours. You’d been working at the office long enough to recognize all the cars in the small lot. “Huh.”

“What’s wrong?” Tammy asked when she noticed your confused expression.

“Did we hire a new employee? I’ve never seen this car before.” You pointed to the maroon car next to yours.

“Me either.” Tammy stared at it for a moment and shrugged. “Probably a new janitor.”

You nodded and let it go, hugging Tammy goodbye for driving to Tom’s house.

You pulled into his driveway and fixed your skirt before knocking on his door. Tom opened it in no time, taking a moment to take in your appearance before pulling you into a hug. He lifted you off the ground and walked into his house, shutting the door behind him with his butt as he hugged you. You laughed in his embrace and he gently put you down.

“Wait here.” He told you, leaving you in his living room as he ran into the kitchen. “And thank you for wearing the pencil skirt.” He called.

“Well I know how much you love it.” You laughed, always flustered by Toms love of your work clothes. Tom reappeared with his hands behind his back and a cheeky smile on his face.

“Happy birthday, darling.” He said as he presented you with a homemade cupcake. Your eyes lit up in delight as you took the cupcake. You took a bite as Tom kissed your nose, getting frosting on both your faces.

“Thank you.” You said as you swiped your finger through the frosting and licked it off. “And thank you for the flowers.”

“Flowers?” Toms tilted his head in confusion as he picked a piece of you cupcake off and put it in his mouth.

“The ones you sent to my workplace.” You laughed at his poor memory.

“I didn’t send you any flowers.” Tom laughed back and you stared at him in surprise. “I did, however, bake you this mediocre cupcake. So, you’re welcome for that.”

“Oh, you know how much I love mediocre birthday treats.” You said sarcastically as you smeared some frosting on his nose. “Did you burn the bottom?” You wiggles your eyebrows.

“You know I did, baby.” Tom playfully slapped you with a towel as he walked back into the kitchen, you following behind him. You shared a happy glance and Tom let his linger a while after you looked away. “So uh, who did send those flowers?”

“I’m not sure. Probably some of the girls at work.” You shrugged as you took a seat on one of his barstools. You knew that wasn’t true judging by their reaction to the bouquet, but you didn’t want Tom to worry. But if Tom hadn’t sent them, who had?

“No secret admirers I might have to fight off? As your best friend, that’s legally my job.” He told you as he leaned across the counter to be closer to you.

“No. I think you’re okay.” You giggled, happening to glance upwards right as a car drove by. The maroon hue reminded you of the one parked next to yours earlier in the day. You shook your head and turned your attention back to Tom, letting the car completely slip from your memory until the following week.

“What’s wrong? You’re quiet today.” Tom put his hand over yours and rubbed it with his thumb. You were meeting him at a cafe for your lunch break, like you often did, but you were particularly quiet, like you often weren’t .

“Breakfast is sick.” You said as you put your cup down. Tom looked at you sympathetically, knowing how much you loved that dog, and tried to cheer you up.

“Sick of that name, I’d imagine.” He teased and you let out a short laugh. “What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s been house broken for 7 years but all the sudden, she’s having accidents everyday. And she won’t eat. I even put little strips of bacon in her bowl and she still won’t touch it.” You sighed and Tom nodded.

“Have you taken her to the vet?” He asked and you looked down at your cup.

“No. I can’t.” You told him. As you looked up at him, you noticed a familiar maroon car parked outside the shop. You quickly looked away, not wanting to get yourself worked up over nothing.

“Why not?” He asked, checking behind him to see what you were staring at.

“Because the last time I took a pet to the vet, I never saw them again.” You answered and he squeezed your hand to comfort you.

“You had another dog?“ he wondered.

“No. It’s was my cat.” You responded. “She had to be put down before I met you.”

“Her name wasn’t Dinner was it?” Tom teased, pleased when it made you smile.

“Sherlock.” You said sheepishly.

“Sherlock?” He leaned closer.

“I was little and a big fan, okay?” You defended yourself and he laughed at your expense.

“What if we take Breakfast to the vet together? Will that make you less nervous?” Tom offered.

“It might.” You shrugged as you sipped your tea.

“Then we’ll go on Saturday.” He patted your hand and withdrew it.

“Thanks, Tom.” You smiled in appreciation at him.

“I got you, girlie.” He smirked and took a sip of his own tea before clinking it with yours. “And come over after we go to the vet. I’ll cook you dinner.”

“I thought you were trying to cheer me up.” You poked fun at his cooking and he opened his mouth in mock hurt.

“I’ll see you at eight?” He raised an eyebrow, knowing you’d be over anyway.

“Yes you will.” You confirmed as you shook a sugar packet and stirred it into your cup. You finished up at the cafe and returned to your office. The rest of the work day went by quickly and before you knew it, you were home.

You threw your keys in the bowl by the door and slipped your jacket off. You walked into your bedroom, kicking off your boots when you noticed a note on your bed. You smiled as wandered over to it and picked it off your pillow.

“My love,

I hate to see you troubled. You will be able to get through this. I believe you can get through anything. That’s one of the things I love about you.” You read from the note. You sighed happily at Tom’s sweet gesture, not even bothering too wonder when he had time to come over and leave the note.

You arrived at Tom’s house a little late that Saturday after you dropped Breakfast off at your apartment. The vet said she was fine, just getting old. You shut the door behind you and locked it, calling out to Tom to alert him of your presence.

“Mm, I love it when you’re half an hour late. Really keeps me on my toes.” Tom teased you as he enveloped you in a hug.

“Shut up.” You laughed as you set your purse on his couch. “Traffic was really bad. The car behind me was totally up my butt. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think they were coming here too.” You blew your hair out of you face and took a seat on his barstool.

“Maybe they heard about my incredible cooking skills.” Tom grinned before giving you a kiss on the cheek to say hello. You began to get plates and cups out and set them on the table. You noticed the candles he had set out, all a different scent, and smiled at his gesture.

“Maybe. But they definitely didn’t hear it from me.” You poked his side and stole a tomato from his pile of ingredients.

“Hey.” He said softly, turning the stove off and transferring the pasta onto the two plates you set out.

“I’m sorry. You know I love your disgusting cooking.” You put a hand in his back and rubbed it for a moment to apologize. “I got your note, by the way. Thanks for cheering me up.”

“Note?” Tom asked as he put a plate in front of you and handed you a fork.

“The one you left on my pillow. It said you loved me and I’d be able to get through this.” You explained, feeling your body chill when his face didn’t show any sign of recognition. “You didn’t write that?”

“I do love you and you will be able to get through this, but I didn’t leave that note.” Tom said as he took a bite of his pasta. You quickly sipped your water, your mouth having gone completely dry. If he didn’t send the flowers and he didn’t leave the note, then who did?

“Oh, okay.” You chuckled nervously. “Must’ve been someone else.”

Only it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. Tom was the only person you told about the problem.

“Someone else is leaving love letters on your pillow?” Tom asked skeptically as he pushed his food around his plate. “Are you seeing someone or something?”

Your mind flashed to the car you had been seeing around lately, making a mental note to check the license plate next time you saw it.

“Something like that.” You said quietly. You didn’t want to worry Tom, especially if there was nothing to worry about yet. You could chalk the car up to being a coincidence, but you had no explanation for the notes. His eyebrows knit together and he stabbed a piece of pasta rather aggressively.

“Who?” He asked, his body language changing to show his insecurity. You but your lip and debated telling Tom about what had been going on, but ultimately decided against it. If you said it out loud, that would make things real.

You thought you had a stalker.

“Nobody.” You said stiffly and gave him a fake smile. He dropped the topic for the rest of your time there, and it slipped your mind as well. You didn’t think about your potential stalker until the next day when you checked your mailbox. Your stomach fell when you found something on top of your usual pile of magazines and bills.

Another note.

“My love,

I hope this note finds you well. You don’t seem to be appreciating my advances as you should be. Is there another in your life trying to take my place? Maybe that brunette I often see you with. Is he a treat, my love? Has he turned your head? Don’t be scared. I only want what’s best for you. What’s best for us. Don’t go to the police or there will be consequences. I love you.”

You crumpled up the note as tears filled your eyes. You looked around for anyone who might have left the note, but found yourself alone. You quickly made your way back to your apartment, locking yourself in there for the next four days.

Tom texted you constantly, but you were too on edge to give him your attention. You told the girls at work that you were sick, not wanting to risk your stalker showing up at your workplace and putting them in danger. You decided the safest move was to stay home, out of harms way. The door was locked, as well as all the windows. To increase your security, you positioned yourself in a chair in front of the door to watch it. You barely slept or ate, only leaving the chair to use the bathroom. On the fifth day of hiding out, your phone ringing made you jump. You saw atoms contact name and shakily raised the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You said quietly, in case anyone was listening.

“Hello? Four days of silence and that’s all I get? Where have you been girlie?” Tom asked, sounding annoyed and concerned all at once. You kept your eyes on the door, watching the doorknob carefully for any movement.

“I’ve been…busy.” You lied. You knew he deserved a better excuse but you were in no position to give him one.

“Come over” He whined and you stiffened. You’d love to be safe at his house but you were too scared to go outside. You had the blinds drawn and hadn’t seen sunlight in days. You didn’t want Tom to see you like that.

“I can’t.” You stammered, beginning to get emotional. You didn’t want to lie to him, in fact, you wanted nothing more than to cry into his arms and let him comfort you. But that could put him in danger, and you couldn’t have that.

“Why not? I haven’t seen you in days.” He complained and you laughed sadly. “I need my fill. I think I’m going through withdrawal.”

“I’m busy, okay?” You repeated, wishing he’d accept that answer and let it go.

“So come be busy with me.” He said, and you could hear his pout through the phone.

“No, Tom.” You said sternly. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to see each other for a while.”

“What? Why?” He asked, the hurt in his voice sending a deep pain through you.

“Because I don’t want to see you, okay?” You snapped, not knowing how else to get rid of him. Tom was quiet for a moment and all you could hear was his breathing.

“Is this about the guy you’re seeing?” He said suddenly and you wanted to cry. He was given you an out, but it was gonna kill you to take it.

“Yes.” You said and bit your lip to keep from crying. “It is.”

“Okay.” He sighed and a tear rolled down your cheek. “Sorry. I’ll leave you alone.”

As soon as he hung up, you let yourself cry. Whoever was stalking you was ruining your relationship with Tom. You stood up and kicked the chair over before retreating to your bedroom.

After a restless night, you woke up around 3 the next day to someone knocking at your door. You hesitantly approached the door, baseball bat hidden behind your back. You looked through the peephole and sighed in relief when you saw your neighbor.

“Hey, Y/n. Are you all right?” Your elderly neighbor asked you.

“Yeah, I’m fine Mrs. Beverly. I’m just getting over a cold.” You lied and she nodded in understanding.

“I need to ask you for a favor.” She asked. “My grandson left his phone at home and he’s playing baseball at the park a few blocks from here. I was supposed to pick him up at 4 but I need to take my cat to the vet. Do you think you could drive down there and pick him up? I don’t know how long I’ll be at the vet and it’s in the opposite direction of the park.”

“That’s no problem, Mrs. Beverly.” You gave her a tight lipped smile. “I hope your cat is okay.”

“Thank you, dear. I’ll see you later.” She waved goodbye and left. You sighed and closed your door, dreading having to leave your apartment. You couldn’t say no to her, but now you actually had to go outside. You decided a quick drive to the park wasn’t lethal and took a quick shower to get ready. You threw on some clothes and by then, it was time to go. As you neared your car in the parking garage, you noticed the maroon car parked next to it. The sight of it struck fear in your heart and you immediately turned on your heel to leave the garage. You walked the short blocks to the park, looking over your shoulder the entire way there. You got to the park as quick as you could and found Mrs. Beverly’s grandson amongst a group of kids. After he told you he was going out with some friends for ice cream, you took a seat on the bleachers to catch your breath. You didn’t blame the strange looks the children were giving you. You knew you looked a mess. After taking a moment to breathe, you began your walk home.

It wasn’t long before you heard a car driving behind you. You slowly turned around and saw the same maroon car that was following you. You felt sick to your stomach when you realized no one was around to help you. You turned back around and kept walking, trying to stay as calm as possible. You could see the car following you out of your peripheral vision and quickened your pace. You got to your apartment but kept walking, not trusting yourself to get to safety in time. The possibility of getting into the elevator or stairwell with whoever was following you was too great. You walked a few more blocks until your reached Toms neighborhood. You ducked behind a giant bush and ran through his neighbors backyards to make a quick escape. When you didn’t see the car behind you anymore, you darted to his house and banged on his front door. He opened it in no time and you rushed inside, shutting the door behind you and locking it. You leaned your back against the door and panted, all while Tom stared at you quizzically.

“Hey.” You said sheepishly. You knew you looked crazy. And you knew the way you spoke to him the day before made the situation even worse.

“Hey.” He said softly. You could tell he was hurt and it broke you into pieces. He turned around and went back to the kitchen, wordlessly inviting you inside. You shut the curtains before you joined him and made sure the windows were locked.

“I was just making some pasta. You’re welcome to join me because I don’t know how to measure things. I’m pretty sure I made enough for a football team and who are you talking too?” The subject of his sentence quickly diverged, making you jump a little.

“What?” You asked, surprised by his assertive tone. The playfulness he usually had with you was long gone.

“You keep mentioning somebody that you’re talking to. The guy who left the note. Probably the same guy who gave you those flowers.” Tom said bitterly and you looked down in shame. “Is he the reason you don’t want to see me?”

“That’s not…no, Tom.” Your voice was weak as you silently pleaded with him not to start something.

“I just want to know, okay? I don’t care if you’re seeing somebody.” He paused, knowing he was lying. “It’s just weird that you didn’t tell me. We’re best friends-“

“-I know.” You cut in.

“I thought we told each other everything.” He looked at you and shrugged.

“We don’t.” You said quietly, feeling fear rise in your throat again.

“Why not? Did I do something? Do you not trust me?” He asked as he leaned on the counter. You rubbed your neck and swallowed hard, glancing over your shoulder out of habit.

“I don’t know who to trust anymore.” You whispered as a tear slipped from your eye. Toms angry body language shifted to that oj sympathy and he walked around the kitchen island to rest his hands on your shoulders.

“Is something wrong?” He asked gently as he rubbed your shoulders. You bit your lip tearfully as you nodded.

“What’s going on? You can tell me.” He said as he took the seat next to you.

“I’ve been seeing someone.” You admitted for the first time.

“I know that-“

“No.” You cut him off in fear of losing your nerve. “I’ve been seeing a car. The same maroon car every day now for a month. I thought it was a coincidence at first but then I saw the license plate and now I see it everywhere. It’s parked outside the stores I’m in, it’s in my parking garage at work,” You welled up with tears as you recalled the sightings and Tom took your hands in his, “and it followed me home tonight. I-I didn’t know what to do. I just panicked and came here. I’m so sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” He asked as he took a napkin from the table and wiped your eyes. You smiled gratefully and took the napkin from him.

“Because it could be outside right now.” You said lowly, and Tom could see the fear in your eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were being followed?” He asked, desperate to know why you kept something of this nature from him.

“I’m scared, Tom.” You breathed. “I’m scared everyday. Whoever it is, they’re not just following me. They know things about me. They knew about my dog being sick. They sent me flowers on my birthday to my workplace. If I told you, it could’ve put you at risk.”

“I’m calling the police.” Tom said definitively and went to his phone. “Do you remember the license plate number?” He asked as he held the phone to his ear. “Yeah, hi, I need an officer over at 123 Internet Street. It’s about a possible stalker.”

“They told me not to go to the police.” You got out of your chair and pulled him away from his phone. He immediately went into a drawer and pulled out a pad and a pen.

“Well they didn’t tell me that.” He stated. “Here. Write down the plate number.” He slid through pad towards you.

“Tom-“ You tried to get him to stop.

“Write it down. Now.” He slammed the pen down in front of you, making you jump back. You obeyed his orders and took the pen, writing the license plate number down. You sheepishly slid the pad towards him and his eyes softened when he realized he raised his voice at you.

“I’m such an idiot.” He sniffled, feeling himself get emotional over the situation. You were scared enough and he had made you feel even worse.

“There’re no way you could’ve known.” You put your hand on his but he yanked it away and baled it into a fist, banging the table.

“Oh, yeah?” He challenged. “So I couldn’t have asked you why you’ve been looking over your shoulder lately? Or why you stopped wanting to hang out in public places? How about when you stopped wanting to see me? None of those could’ve let me know something was going on?”

“Please, Tom.” You begged him as you took his face in your hands to calm him down. “Don’t blame yourself for this. I could’ve told you.”

“No. I should’ve known.” He shook his head. “I knew you were acting funny but all I could think about was who sent you those goddamn flowers.” He said through gritted teeth and he hit the table.

“Why are you still hung up on that?” You took your hands off his face, angry now that he wasn’t listening.

“Now is really not the time.” He blew out a hot breath and ran his fingers through his hair.

“I’m already full of nerves, Tom. Whatever it is, just tell me.” You pleaded with him. He looked at you, taking you in for everything you were. You raised your eyebrows, asking him tell you what he was feeling, and he obliged.

“Y/n, for the past few years I-“ He began.

“Police. Open up.” A banging on the door interrupted his moment.

“I’ll…I’ll get it.” You said quietly and went to the door. Tom wiped his face, knowing this wasn’t the right time. You opened the door to two female officers.

“We got a call about a 1036M. What seems to be the problem?” The officer asked you. Tom appeared behind you and opened the door wider.

“My friend believes she’s being stalked.” Tom spoke, but the officers eyes never left you.

“Is this your boyfriend?” She asked you, nodded towards Tom.

“No.” You shook your head and she nodded.

“I’m her-“ Tom tried to explain.

“I think you ought to let her speak.” The officer looked at him sternly. “Is there another room we can speak in?” She asked you kindly.

“Oh, sure. We can go in the bedroom, right Tom?” You asked him.

“Yeah, it’s right this way.” He said, beginning to lead you towards the room.

“I’m sure she can show me.” The officer told him. Her tone changed from sweet to sassy when she addressed Tom. If you weren’t so stressed, you might have laughed.

“Come with me.” You told her and the other officer followed. You and Tom exchanging strange looks as you left the room. She shut the bedroom door behind you as you took a seat on the bed.

“You know, he’s a really nice guy.” You laughed softly.

“The 911 dispatcher heard you when he made the call. We hear a distressed woman, we take every precaution.” The officer explained and you smiled in appreciation. “I also like being rude to men.”

You nodded in understanding as he took out her notepad.

“Can you explain your situation, honey?” She asked you sweetly, and you nodded.

“I think I’m being stalked.” You told her. “I’ve been seeing the same car following me around. And I’ve been getting notes.”

“Notes?” She asked, looking up from her notepad where she was writing everything down.

“Like, love notes.” You explained. “They contain personal details in them.”

“Do you have these notes on your person?” She asked you.

“Yes.” You said, digging in your purse and pulling out the notes you hadn’t crumbled. The officer took them and handed them to the other officer, who put them in a plastic bag.

“Can you describe the car for me, sweetie?” The first officer asked you.

“It’s maroon and the license plate is 7TYP256. I think it’s a station wagon or something.” You said as you looked between the two officers.

“Can you run a license plate for me?” The second officer said into her intercom. “Plate number is 7TYP256, over.”

“That should be a few minutes.” The first officer told you. “Have you ever seen the person leaving these notes?”

“No, but one was left in my house.” You remembered, your mouth drying out at the memory.

“Was anything taken?” She asked you. Tom leaned against the wall on the other side, trying to listen in.

“Nothing other than my ability to sleep at night.” You laughed humorlessly as some noise came through their radios.

“We got a hit on your plate.” The other officer spoke up. “The car belongs to an Andrew Whittemore. Do you recognize that name?”

“Yes.” You thought for a moment, trying to think of where you knew that name. “He was in my history class in college.” You realized. “He asked me out once was I blew him off. I didn’t think anything of it.”

“Have you lived in the same apartment since college?” She asked you.

“Yes. He was even over once for a study group.” You began to panic, not knowing if knowing your stalker made the situation more or less scary.

“See here? He’s been convicted of stalking before. We put an APB out for him.” The first officer said as she showed you something on her screen. You looked and saw a picture of Andrew, older and more worn down from how you remembered him from college.

“Thanks.” You said simply, not knowing what else to say.

“That’s what we’re here for, baby.” The officer told you kindly. “Come on, lets go tell your not-boyfriend what’s going on.”

The three of you walked back into the living room, where Tom was seated on the couch. His posture was perfectly straight, something out of the normal for him. You had a feel he had rushed to the couch when he heard you coming and it made you smile. He made his way to you quickly and nodded at the officers, who were busy conversing with each other and listening to their police radio.

“Is everything okay?” He asked you, running his fingers from your elbows to your hands.

“Yeah.” You nodded, your nervous energy dissipating with his touch. “They actually found the guy.”

“They did?” He asked, looking at the officers with hope.

“We did.” She confirmed. “And my guys just found him a few blocks from here. He had a couple notes on him that were enough evidence to convict him. He’s been taken into custody.”

You sighed in relief and Tom pulled you into his body, letting your back rest against his chest.

“Is there anything else you need from me?” You asked the officers and they shook their heads.

“You’ll have to testify before a court, but don’t worry about that tonight.” One of them told you.

“Thank you.” You said sincerely and the leading officer gave you a warm smile.

“Of course. Have a nice night, ma’am.” They nodded at you before leaving. You stayed silent for a moment as Tom softly stroked your arm.

“What do we do now?” He asked, leaning down to press a comforting kiss to your shoulder. You smiled cheekily and looked up at him.

“Didn’t you say you made some pasta?”

A few hours later, you had washed the dishes together and were relaxing on the couch, your feet in Toms lap.

“It’s late.” You realized when you saw the clock under his TV. “I should probably go.”

“Do you feel safe in that apartment?” He asked you as he rubbed your ankle bone.

“I honestly don’t think I’m ever gonna feel safe again.” You chuckled softly, rubbing your hands over your arms. He watched your sympathetically, wishing there was something more he could do.

“He’s in prison, darling. He can’t get to you.” He said softly. You shrugged and looked at him through your lashes.

“What happens when he gets out?” You whispered. “What’s stopping him from driving right over to my apartment and waiting for me?”

“I’ve been thinking of moving.” Tom said suddenly, giving you a playful smile.

“You and me both.” You laughed and rubbed your tired eyes.

“What if we got a place together?” He scooted a little closer to you. “Somewhere in London, maybe, since you like the city so much.”

“Really?” You lit up, liking the idea already.

“Really.” He smiled. “And you can stay here until you feel ready to go home. I’ll swing by your place tomorrow and get some clothes.”

“I’d like that, Tom. Thank you.” You wrapped your arms around him and stayed there in his embrace. He tilted his face a little to place a kiss on your cheek, looking at you for a moment before clearing his throat.

“I’m happy to do it. You don’t have to thank me.” He said as you pulled out of each other’s embrace. Your hand slid off his shoulder and rested on his chest, where you clutched his shirt slightly, bunching up the fabric to keep him close.

“What were you gonna say before the police came?” You spoke softly.

“I don’t remember.” He lied, not meeting your gaze.

“Don’t lose your nerve now.” You urge. Tom studied your face and took a deep breath.

“I really value your friendship.” He began. “And if I’m overstepping, stop me at anytime but, do you ever want more?”

“More?” You asked.

“Yeah. I’m happy with how we are, believe me. But I can’t help from wanting, I don’t know, more.” He repeated, watching closely for your reaction. “Like, when I kiss you on the cheek sometimes, I wonder what would happen if I just moved over just a few inches and actually kissed you. Or when we’re sitting next to each other on the couch, and I’m cold, and you’re cold, what’s stopping me from pulling you into my lap to warm us both up? I know best friends don’t do that stuff but, I’ve always felt like we’re-“

“More than best friends?” You laughed softly as you finished his sentence.

“Yeah.” He smoked in relief when you understood. “It’s hard to explain. Like, I’m not pinning after you, but if you wanted to be more than friends, I’d want that too. Do you get what I’m trying to say?”

“Funnily enough, I do.” You replied as a smile tugged at your lips.

“Good. Because I’m totally pinning after you.” He admitted with a nervous chuckle. You stared at him and made a decision that if you could face a stalker tonight, you could face your best friend that you were crushing on.

“Tom?” You asked, a coy smile on your face.

“Yeah?” He tilted his head, looking at you fondly with his signature soft brown eyes.

“Pull me into your lap.” You instructed. “Let’s find out what really would happen if you actually kissed me.”

Tag List 🏷

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[redhoodieone]

On Your Knees

A/N: Hi everyone! This is an old fic that I’m re-posting for those who want to read it. Enjoy!

WARNINGS: Language and Smut.

 “Dick! I-uh! I-I wasn’t doing anything!” I stutter anxiously. I quickly pull up my panties and yoga pants. The paper towel used to clean Bruce’s cum is still on the counter.

I’m beyond embarrassed and nervous, and with Dick standing there, knowing exactly what I did with Bruce is worse. Dick must think I’m a slut who has sex with fathers, and he’s going to make my life a living hell because of it.

Dick Grayson isn’t that tall. He’s about 5’10, and he’s generally never frightening or threatening. But Dick’s light blue eyes stare me down hard. His mouth is closed tightly; and his jaw is clenched. His usual friendly and big brother demeanor is long gone.

And here Dick Grayson stands, in his gray sweatpants and muscle fitting black t-shirt. His dark hair is messy; possibly from the constant running his hand through his hair or his usual evening nap before patrol.

All I want to do is throw the nasty paper towel away and go hide for a bit. If Dick knows what Bruce and I did, it’s only a matter of time before Jason, Tim, Damian, and Alfred will find out.

Maybe even Selina Kyle. Joker, even.

“So, you said you weren’t doing anything, is that right Y/N?” Dick asks casually, a tint of sarcasm is laced in his voice. He comes closer to me. His breath is hot and heavy. “It seems to me you were being fucked hard by Bruce.”

What people don’t know is Dick can be pretty blunt when he’s angry. He swears, drops F bombs, and can be as pissed off Jason Todd. As rare as that may be, he can still be a dick if he wants to be (pun intended.)

“Look, it was a mistake. It should have never happened, and-and I would appreciate it if no one else knows about it, okay? Please don’t say anything,” I plead. If I could, I would get on my knees and beg pathetically.

As if Dick read my mind, he suddenly grins. The charming, sexy smirk is back on his handsome face. “Now, why don’t you be a good girl and show me the same affection and fun you gave Bruce? Get on your knees, now.”

I freeze. “W-what?” I choke out.

“You can’t honestly expect me to believe you’re just a daddy’s girl. I mean...” Dick confesses before he pushes a strand of my hair behind my ear. He tilts his head down to mine. “Because I’ve always been a big brother to you, haven’t I?”

“Of course, you’ve always been my big brother,” I swallow hard.

“And as your big brother, don’t I deserve the same attention as Bruce? Oh Y/N, the things I would do to you...the things I have imagined and dreamed of,” Dick whispers in my ear.

My pussy is still overly sensitive from Bruce, but I want Dick just as much as he wants me. Following my instinct, I lower myself on my knees, and I start pulling down his sweatpants.

Dick Grayson is not just an attractive guy, but he’s as sexy as Bruce and Jason. But Dick is sexier when it comes to foreplay. I would be lying if I said I never saw him getting blow jobs from Barbara, Kori, and other girls he’s been with. It’s kind of hard to ignore, respect his privacy, and look away when his bedroom door is never shut all the way. I have stood in front of his door, watching how he’d either stand or lie down, with his whole chest out on display. Sweat running down his pecs, hard stomach, and all the way down his abdominal V line.

The way Dick would groan with frustration is enough to make me wet. I want to see him bite his bottom lip until he’d bleed. I want him to hold my head and thrust himself into my mouth until he cums.

The second I pull down his white briefs (a WAYNE product with the WAYNE name brand at the top of the band. I see this happening one day, so fight me! Hahaha!!!), Dick’s cock is long, hard, and leaking. The difference between all their cocks? Bruce’s is thick, massive, and monstrous. Jason’s is average size, thick in size and girth. But oh, I can’t pick the best one. I haven’t even had Jason yet.

I slowly pull Dick’s briefs down, and his cock immediately slaps against his toned stomach. He’s breathing hard, and his hands are shaking at his sides.

“Well? Suck me good, sweetheart,” Dick begs. His voice cracks, and it makes my heart swell.

I quickly grab his cock and began stroking him slowly. Dick’s moans encourage me to move faster, but his hand in my hair says otherwise. Instead of ramming his cock in my mouth, he gently pushes my head to his dick. I open my mouth and take him in. He smells and tastes like sweat, but his clean bodywash makes his pubic region mouthwatering. Dick’s precum is tasty, and I find myself wanting more of it. I look up while I begin to suck his cock, and I notice Dick’s staring at me with hooded eyes, and his mouth parted open.

His breathing is hard. I focus on sucking his cock the best I could. I tighten my lips around his dick, and I bob my head while massaging his balls.

“Oh fuck…oh fuck, you suck my cock so good. You’re doing so good, Y/N,” Dick moans louder; not even caring if anyone hears us.

I moan around him. I run my tongue along his shaft, and until my tongue licks the sensitive head, Dick growls loudly.

“Stop teasing me or I won’t do anything for you!” Dick threatens.

“You were planning on doing something for me, Dickie?” I tease back.

“Just suck my cock, Y/N. I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.”

The way Dick’s voice breaks at the end just shows how much torture I’m putting him through. I continue sucking him harder, and I stroke him with what couldn’t fit into my mouth. Dick finally has enough. His fingers run through my hair so he can grip my head and starts to pound into my mouth. I gag and tear up, but I don’t care. Dick then makes it his mission to thrust himself farther and faster into my mouth. I breathe through my nose to calm myself, but his cock and moans are making me wetter than before.

“Fuck! Oh fuck! I-I’m gonna cum in your mouth!” Dick whines.

Dick then pushes my head back and orders me to open my mouth. His large hand holds his cock tightly and spurts his cum out onto my tongue. He deliciously moans one last time, and gazes at me as I swallow all his cum.

“Y/N…you’re such a dirty girl,” Dick compliments me.

“Thank you,” I reply proudly.

Dick helps me stand and pushes me against the refrigerator. With my back pressed up, he takes advantage of kissing my neck. Biting and sucking every spot he can, his hand slips into my yoga pants. He rubs my pussy through my panties.

“God, it’s like you were hoping to get fucked by us today, huh?” he whispers in my ear.

“I actually wasn’t expecting any of this. I just dream about it, but that’s about it,” I admit, panting against his chest.

“Bullshit. Just admit it, Y/N. The sooner you admit it, the sooner you’ll feel like you’re flying with me,” Dick says seductively.

Fuck Dick with his charming voice and words. Of course, he had to add his history in his sexy speech; The Flying Grayson’s. He knows I love listening to his circus stories. I groan angrily, and I look into his playful baby blue eyes.

“Fine, I…was hoping one of you would break and fuck me. Happy?” I snap.

“I’m already there, Y/N.”

Dick’s skilled fingers slip into my panties, and he begins rubbing my clit furiously. Gasping, I arch my back, and reveal my neck and chest for Dick to suck, lick, and kiss me until I unravel. He slips two fingers inside me, and finger fucks me until I’m panting and on the brink of losing myself.

“Fuck Dick…don’t stop. Don’t stop, please,” I plead loudly.

“Say my name out loud! I want Bruce and Jason to hear!” Dick demands. He adds another finger, as his thumb rubs consistent circles against my clit.

“Dick! Oh my God, Dick! Don’t stop! I-I’m gonna cum!” I scream.

Dick curls his fingers inside me and rubs against that spot I’ve learned to love and desire more of.

“Cum for me, Y/N. Let me feel and taste your cum,” Dick moans in my ear. He can’t stop grinning at me.

“Dick!” I yell. My pussy clenches and unclenches around his fingers. I can feel my juices running down my thighs, and I assume Dick’s hand is soaked right now.

When Dick withdraws his fingers, I lazily watch him stick them in his mouth. He sucks every part of his fingers, and he smiles at me.

“Delicious…I knew you would be delicious, Y/N,” Dick praises me. He finally kisses me and gives me a taste of myself. Our tongues dance along each other, and I let myself fall into his embrace, because he’ll always be there to catch me. Dick pulls away for second, and grins against my lips. “You give amazing head too, sweetheart. Lucky me, right?”

“Dick!” I cry out embarrassed. I slap his chest playfully and kiss him once more.

“You were good, Y/N. So good…” he confesses softly.

“You were too, Dick.”

The moment between us is perfect. I have finally had the two men I fantasized about. Someone clearing their throat interrupts us. We pull away from each other quickly in complete panic mode.

There stood Jason Todd. Completely dressed in his Red Hood costume, with his helmet under his arm, he has an angry, full of rage expression on his handsome features. His blueish, grey eyes are on me, and he tightens his jaw.

“What the actual fuck, Y/N?!”

[heli0s-writes]

i need a forest fire*

My submission for @jalapenobarnes​‘s writing challenge. Congratulations on your milestone, Saran! Thank you for hosting! 🧡

Nomad Steve/Reader & the prompt is hiraeth- a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past.

The title is from James Blake’s song of the same name. 🧡

I'm also double-dipping in the smut prompts with talking dirty over the phone. 1.7k. Please stop reading if you are not 18+

brooklyn after dark masterlist

“I miss you.”

“I know.”

“No… I miss you.”

He chuckles and leans his head onto the headboard of yet another motel dwelling-- their stay for the week before they continue to another city, another assignment. Can’t plant his feet anywhere yet. No roots to grow for a while. No sun to warm him.

“How’s it been?”

“Fine enough. Same as usual, gotta keep moving.”

You’re thousands of miles away—disembodied voice in his ear that reminds him of home and his bed. Reminds him of the imprint electrifying his nights—the briefness of a new thing. The wonder of a good thing. A love that sprang slow over time, caught fire overnight, burned to ashes too quick.

“How are you?”

“Mm. Fine enough.”

He hears the squeak of a door, the click of a deadbolt, and the extra chain latching on top. Then, a mattress too noisy to be yours. A familiar ritual now, when you want the little bits of him that he can afford to give. A motel some distance from the compound, always a new one with every call because you’re too careful to make mistakes. Too careful to accidentally give him away.

It makes him smile to pretend that the two of you might be in the same place, sharing the same creaky fucking bed. Maybe breaking it in—breaking it apart.

Steve grits his teeth. Hisses discreetly, but not discreet enough.

“What’s that sound for?”

“Just— in bed. In a bed.”

“Not my bed.”

“No,” he laughs, “Wish I was, though.”

“Remember the last time you were there?” Rustling as you settle down and Steve does so as well, slipping his legs beneath paper thin covers. Imitation—imagination—allowing a domestic fantasy.

He considers it-- maybe half a year ago now—and suddenly his cheeks light up. He could easily give out one of those noises again— have you catch him red-handed dreaming of splayed thighs at the edge of the mattress. Him on his knees, one hand in his lap, practically drooling and a mess from the cheek down.

“You’ve got a beard now, huh? What’ll that be like between my legs?”

Oh, hell.

“Baby…” Steve grinds his skull against the wood, shivering at prickles down his spine, “Baby… Christ. You can’t say that.”

“Are you sharing a room? Are you sharing a room?”

You fucking tease. You would like it if he was sharing a room, just so you could provoke him stupid. Jesus, Steve’s the criminal now but you’ve always been a goddamn minx if he’s ever known one. Whip fucking smart, though, and it broke his heart when you suggested that he’d need someone on the other side, that it’ll be okay, Steve, I won’t punch you too hard.

And he only loved you more when you did punch him too hard. Loved you harder when you gave him coordinates to the Raft, the codes, the blueprints lifted from Ross’ files.

He had one last night then, in your room, before it’d inevitably be ransacked and searched—bugged to hell because Ross only trusted you as far as he could throw you, even if you played all your cards right.

It’s why you catch the bus to motels with a burner phone inside the lining of your jacket. Create nonsensical rotations of locations. Schedule calls without a linear time frame. Sometimes a month, sometimes longer. It’s why he misses you so goddamn much.

“Steve…” A drawl of his name that lets him know exactly what you want of him.

“I’m not sharing a room,” he says cautiously, like a warning, “But Sam’s right next door. And it’s paper thin here.”

“You better be quiet then. You’re not Goody-Two-Shoes Cap anymore, are you? Don’t you wanna try phone sex with your girl?” His chest tightens, throat going dry at your tone, at the way you say your girl, at the possibility of phone sex—as daunting as it is exciting.

“Okay, yeah, sweetheart,” Steve shudders, reaching into his sweats because he can’t say no— he’s already half hard, anyway. Itching for it. “Yeah. You can have me. H-how do you want me?”

“Touching yourself, to start.” A sigh in your voice. He closes his eyes, swallows thickly, imagines your breath over his lips, imagines the way you pepper kisses across his chest. “I always liked watching you do that, pretty boy.”

Steve groans, stroking languidly, building himself up, focusing on the way he can just barely hear the hum in the back of your throat. “You’re pretty.”

A giggle then, snapping him out of his trance and heat overtakes the top of his head. Ugh. He’s not good at this. Being laughed at during sex—regardless of how disembodied—never a good sign. “Fuck,” He grumbles. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I like it, Steve; I like you.” Just like that, he’s breathless again. “Hm, wanna know what I’m doing, pretty boy?” And his breath may never come back.

“Remember those little satin panties I wore? Ribbon ties on the side… and you pulled them off with your teeth?”

Of course he does. Delicate lavender and shimmery soft. By the time he dropped to the floor they were already wet in the middle—pastel going rich purple. Your chest-- heaving as you leaned back on the sheets, his hands on the thin skin of your knees, stretching willing legs apart.

Steve catches his cockhead with the crook of his finger. Grunts quietly into the receiver.

“Baby, are you wearing those?”

“Uh-huh, just for you.”

“Are you touching yourself—ah—thinkin’ about me?”

“Every night.”

Fuck. Jesus Christ, you’re bad. He’s gonna blow his load and the call’s only been five minutes.

“What—” another shuddering breath when he grips a little too hard, “—what do you think about me doing?”

You sigh again, whimper like a little punctuation, sheets rustling. “I think about your tongue and how wet you make me,” and your voice is so low, so needy, “I wish you were here, Steve. Touching me all over.” And the picture in his mind of you, so pretty and open, wild at the mere memory of him—

“When you get back,” and there it is, egging his own fist on to match the pace of a subtle and steady sluiced-up rhythm, your fingers working over, inside, back out, twisting and turning. “When you get back, Steve. I’m gonna let you know just how much I miss you.”

He’s hot all over, chasing the ghost of your doting kisses, the phantom touch of your skillful hands. “Jesus, sweetheart.”

“Yeah? You gonna let me make you feel good when you get home?”

“Yes—yes.”

“Keep going. Think about me riding you, baby. Slow at first, how you like, taking you a little bit at a time. You’re always so hard.”

Always for you, yeah, he is. And as much as he loves tasting you—as much as he could spend eternity and a half blessed between your thighs, dedicated to those noises you make when his tongue slips over your clit—his fingers knuckle-deep inside—the way you move on top of him is another sacrament altogether.

Steve jams the phone between his ear and his shoulder—neck cramp tomorrow be damned—and uses both hands. Forgets for a little that you’re not quite there.

Slow, like you said, at first, listening to your recital, the chorus of his breath an applause.

“Now, faster.”

And he’s lost in the roll of your hips, one hand on his chest, the other gripped tight around his shoulder, nails carving crescents into his skin because you need an anchor. He’s lost in the way his heart pounds the sharper the cuts because it means you’ve let yourself go. How you scramble for his fingers next, lacing them through yours, squeezing him there and everywhere.

And oh, how exquisite you look with that sheen of sweat across your chest. Hovering over him like a goddess and fucking him like a wet dream.

“Baby,” red lip pulled pale between his teeth, hands working in tandem—imitation and imagination constructing a well-oiled machine in your absence. “Baby, fuck. Miss you on me—miss you fucking me. God--”

“Yeah? Gonna come?” You’re panting, too, noises high and obscene, the background echo of your hand growing more frantic and unrestrained. “Me too, pretty boy. I want to do everything with you—have all of you. Your hands, your mouth, your cock.”

“Yeah. Yes,” he babbles, “I wanna give you everything.”

“Come with me, Steve—come on, baby.”

And it’s all so fast. Your words. His words. Your hands. His hands. He’s barely finished rucking down his sweats, pulling up the hem of his shirt last minute before his eyes roll back behind his lids. He’s spilling out, over his fist, up his clenched abdomen, entire body tight, panting heavy and hard as he tugs at himself a few more times, breathing and listening, heart still clobbering against his ribcage when you whimper one last time.

The comedown is aching, then. His eyes flutter open. Heat smothered cold and lonesome like those ashes. His neck hurts. His heart hurts.

“Steve,” and he hears it in you, too—the same ache, the same want. Like at the end of every call you’ve made to him in the past six months. 

“Steve,” you say again, “It’s okay. You’ll be back soon enough. You’ll have me then. Every night if you’d like.”

Of course he would, but he can’t voice it now, not in all this dark, not when the pain is bubbling up in his throat, not when he loves you so much he can’t stand to worry you with its sound.

“Look on the bright side, you lawless fugitive. Least you know how to have phone sex now. Cap would never.” He laughs at that, happiness like tinder sparking fast from a flame. “You’ll be home soon.”

Home. Home. A place with his bed and his girl. Planting his feet down safely. Growing roots in that rich, soft soil, sprinkled with ash. Tended to by the warmth of your touch.  

“Yeah. I will,” he says, and the fire chases away the dark.

[writethelifeyouwant]

Dive Bar Ch. 11/11 - Fin

Pairing: Dean x Sam

Rating: 18+

Summary: After a one night stand with a random college chick turns into a threesome that also featured his little brother, Dean- well, frankly, he panics. What’s even worse than gay panicking? Gay incest panicking. Luckily, Sam winds up being a little more cool about the whole thing than Dean ever would have imagined.

WC: 3,001

Tags: brother/brother incest, loss of anal virginity, anal sex, blow job, incest kink, dirty talk, top!sam, bottom!dean, happy ending - sue me 

Beta: @negans-lucille-tblr and @daydream3r-xo

Divider: @firefly-graphics ❤️

A/N: Okay I’m gonna do a separate post with a long sappy note so this post doesn’t become a mile long but TLDR - thank you for reading and coming with me on this wild ride 🥰

Fic Masterlist

Chapter 10

A few weeks later

Another hunt. Another drink. Another dive bar.

Sam killed his beer before Dean could even get his lips around his own, and once he saw Sam downing the drink, condensation running over his knuckles, his lips, down his throat– Dean didn’t care he had lost the game, he just wanted to lick the moisture off Sam’s neck.

“Take a picture,” Sam laughed when he noticed Dean’s staring, “it’ll last longer.” Dean dropped his gaze to his bottle and took a long swig. “Something on your mind?”

“Wh– nope, nothing,” Dean denied, seeing his beer off. “I’m buying right? You want the same?”

“Yeah, sure,” Sam looked suspicious, but let Dean go off to get their second round.

Dean grabbed the bartender’s attention and held up two fingers, pointing to the bottles he was returning, then dropped his head in his hands. God, he had to get himself under control. He couldn’t just zone out every time Sam did something that made him half hard in his jeans – he’d wind up getting them both killed at some point. It didn’t help that every time Sam had tried to fuck him, he’d chicken out the second he got another look at Sam’s dick. He needed to nut up and go through with it already. The bartender pushed new drinks at Dean, breaking him out of his reverie.

When he spun back towards Sam with their drinks, he saw a table of girls a few spots over from them making eyes at Sam, and he noticed one in particular looked exactly his type. She had those ‘come hither’ bedroom eyes, long hair you could wrap your hands up in, great boobs – This is perfect.

“You’ve got an admirer little bro,” Dean teased when he dropped the fresh bottle on the table in front of Sam. Sam glanced up and noticed the girl Dean was talking about, dropping his head behind his hair quickly. Dean caught her eye and gave her a wink before taking a draught of his beer and turning back to Sam.

“Stop being a jerk,” Sam shoved at Dean, “it’s not nice to lead people on.”

“What if I’m not?” Dean held his breath as he watched Sam’s face, unsure of how he was going to react to that.

“What are you asking me, Dean?” Sam fingered the label on his beer bottle – one of his nervous tics – and Dean realised he fucked that up.

“No! That’s – shit, that’s not what I meant. I meant like, what we did before, with Dany, we… y’know.” Dean fumbled through an explanation, but he saw Sam let out a breath and knew he was okay.

“You want to have another threesome?” Sam smirked, bemused, which was better than pissed so Dean was fine with that.

“Why not?” he shrugged, glancing back to the girl, who was still checking them both out, before focusing back on Sam. “We were pretty damn good at it the first time,” Dean grinned, pulling a huff from Sam.

“Yeah,” he shrugged, still smirking at Dean, “it was good.” Sam’s smirking was starting to unnerve Dean a little.

“And, y’know, the past couple weeks have been – awesome, really – but maybe we uh, spice things up again, huh?” Dean waited for Sam to chime in with something, maybe tell him what all the goddamn smirking was about.

“Already getting bored of me, Dean?” Sam’s smirk was actually becoming irritating, now.

“You know that’s not what I meant, stop being a bitch,” Dean grunted. Sam laughed to himself and took another drink. “So, what d’ya say, Sammy?” Dean waggled his brow, trying to draw an answer out of his brother. “Show another gal the time of her life?”

Sam could tell Dean was stalling. He’d been jumpy the past few times Sam had brought up having actual sexual intercourse – his cock in Dean’s ass – saying he wanted it, but not letting Sam go past fingering him open a little. And now Dean was finding another excuse to put it off, and Sam was getting desperate. It was time to give Dean a push off his cliff.

“We can do it again,” Sam nodded, rounding the table so he was behind Dean, and looking towards the girl he’d been pointing out. “But not just yet.”

“Hm?” Dean looked over his shoulder at Sam, puzzled. Sam bent over his big brother, bringing his lips close enough to his ear that he wouldn’t have to shout to be heard in the crowded bar.

“I don’t want anyone else fucking you before I get the chance to do it properly.” Sam felt Dean shiver against him. “Gonna let me fuck you, big brother?”

“Fuck,” Dean exhaled, trying to compose himself behind a swig of his drink.

“How much longer you gonna hold out on me?” Sam scraped his teeth along the back of Dean’s ear, pulling a whimper from him.

“You know what, fine,” Dean stood abruptly, knocking Sam off balance behind him. “You wanna do this? Let’s do this. Get in the car, Sam.”

Sam grinned triumphantly as he followed Dean out of the bar and out to the Impala, back to their motel room for the night.

-

Sam pushed Dean against the door the second it closed behind them. They were good at this part. He could take Dean apart with a few calculated bites along his neck and some very enthusiastic kissing, and Dean was becoming more and more comfortable letting himself be putty in Sam’s hands.

Not that Dean didn’t have the same effect on Sam. A short tug on his hair and Dean’s tongue between his lips and he would melt in his brother’s arms. Dean was a mind-blowing kisser.

Sam trailed his hands down Dean’s arms and grabbed his wrists, pulling him off the wall and towards the bed; still messy from the previous night. He sat Dean down on the mattress and stood back to strip off his shirts. He felt Dean’s hands at his belt undoing the buckle so he could pull his jeans down, and Sam kicked them off along with his boots. Dean went to unbutton his own shirt but Sam stopped him.

“Hey – I want to do that.” Dean gave him a confused sort of smile, but let Sam’s fingers cover his and take over stripping him out of his layers. He kissed Dean again, sucking on his lower lip and licking into his mouth, inhaling his every breath - consuming him. He dragged his fingers over every inch of skin that was revealed as he pulled off the flannel and then the t-shirt, kissing down his legs as he tugged him out of his jeans, before he had to kneel to unlace Dean’s boots. Dean propped himself up on his elbows to look down at Sam, still knelt at his feet.

“I know what you’re doing Sam, so you can quit it now,” Dean griped. “Stop treating me like some blushing virgin, I’m not a girl.” Sam grinned wolfishly and sprang back on the bed once he’d gotten Dean’s jeans off.

“No, you’re definitely not a girl,” he agreed, squeezing the bulge in Dean’s underwear and pulling a groan from his brother. “But I’m still gonna make you scream like one,” Sam breathed against Dean’s lips before he devoured them. “Gonna make you feel so good, Dean,” Sam groaned, pushing his hand into Dean’s briefs and grabbing hold of his length. “Love your cock so much, so hot,” Sam wasn’t sure what he was saying anymore, whatever popped into his head was going straight to his mouth without any filter, which wasn’t helped by the fact that Dean had gotten his hand inside Sam’s boxers and was jerking him off now too.

“God, wanted this for so long,” Sam moaned, sucking a bruise into the join between Dean’s shoulder and his throat. “Thought about fucking you so much,” Sam admitted, to hell with embarrassment at this point. “When I went home with that guy from the bar, I wanted it to be you. I thought about you when I was fucking him – said your name when I came inside him.”

“Jesus, Sammy,” Dean groaned, his mocking tone not disguising his arousal very well, “s’cute you’re so sweet on me.”

“Shut up,” Sam bit at Dean’s lip gently, “before I make you.”

“So then make me,” Dean growled, flipping them so Sam was below him and he could grind their erections together while he sucked his own mark into Sam’s skin. He dragged his lips down Sam’s chest, goal evident. Sam didn’t want to get too carried away, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want Dean’s mouth on him; blowjobs were a skill Dean had really been perfecting over the past few weeks.

Dean hummed happily when he got Sam’s cock in his mouth, and Sam relished the wet warmth that enveloped him, thrusting up into Dean involuntarily.

“Someone’s eager,” Dean chuckled before taking Sam back in his mouth.

“Someone’s being a tease,” Sam grunted, hauling himself up on his elbows so he could pull Dean off his dick and throw him onto his side on the bed. They kissed again, Dean wrapping his arms around Sam and getting his hands in his hair, like he knew Sam liked. Without breaking from the kiss, Sam grabbed for the lube that was still under the pillow from the previous night.

Dean was expecting what came next, and didn’t flinch when he felt Sam’s fingers trailing over his ass and dipping between his cheeks to find his entrance. Sam kept the touches light, teasing – soothing – until he felt Dean relax against him again.

“I want you to do it,” Sam breathed against his neck. Dean didn’t follow.

“Want me to do what?”

“Get yourself ready for me,” Sam elaborated, kissing along Dean’s neck. “Want you to finger yourself open for me.”

“Why?” Dean wasn’t necessarily opposed to the idea, but Sam had always been the one to do this part before.

“Because you’ll be able to feel when you’re ready, won’t be as nervous.” Sam kissed further down Dean’s chest, stopping to suck one of his nipples into his mouth, and pulling a gasp from Dean. “Plus, I think it would be hot,” he grinned up at Dean. “Want to see fucking yourself so good on your fingers that you’re begging for my cock.”

Dean felt his cock twitch against Sam’s hip, and he had to admit, when he said it like that, it did sound fucking incredible. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He grabbed the lube from Sam and turned over so he was on his knees, letting his shoulders drop to the mattress, his ass in the air.

“Fuck, you look hot like that,” Sam moaned. Dean could see Sam was touching himself as he watched and found that he liked putting on a bit of a show.

“You like watching me, Sammy?” Dean shivered as he pushed one slicked-up finger into himself. “Like thinkin’ ‘bout how much you wanna fuck me while you touch yourself?” He started to move his finger inside himself, in and out, searching… “Like thinkin’ about your big brother when you get off?” Dean moaned when his fingertip skirted by the spot he was trying to find.

“Fuck, yes,” Sam breathed, eyes fixed on Dean’s finger moving in and out of his ass. “Add another one, Dean.” Dean did as he was told and added a second finger, hissing at the stretch. “There you go.” Sam reached between his legs to play with Dean’s cock, and his hand felt so fucking good against his skin. That, coupled with the fact that Dean had managed to find the spot inside his ass Sam had shown him that made everything go fuzzy, Dean was pretty blissed out. “Think you can do one more for me?” Sam squeezed his fingers in a ring around the head of Dean’s cock, drawing another whimper from him.

Dean nodded and pulled his hand away to add more lube, and went back to his hole with three fingers. He pressed at his entrance slowly, testing the give, and found that when he finally pushed his fingers inside, he loved how full he felt, and he loved the small tingle of pain that was mixing with the overwhelming pleasure.

“Fuck.” Pumping his fingers into himself faster, Dean groaned wantonly, unreserved, relaxing into the feeling of being stretched so open.

“Think you’re ready?” Sam asked, obviously hopeful.

“Yeah,” Dean gasped, “yeah, Sam, want you. Please.” He let himself sag to the bed and rolled over onto his back. Sam kissed him shortly and pulled back, searching his eyes for one last okay, before Dean felt the tip of Sam’s cock pressing against his entrance.

When Sam pushed inside of him, Dean’s whole world whited out. He was bigger than the fingers he had been working himself with, and so fucking hard, but Dean loved every second of it. He couldn’t believe he’d made Sam wait to do this for so long.

“Oh my god, Sam, fuck -“ Dean panted.

“Told ya I’d make you feel good,” Sam groaned, pushing in a little more. “You’re doing so good, De, taking me so fucking good, so fucking tight.”

“Goddamn, you really never shut up, do ya Sammy?”

“Sorry,” Sam ducked his head into Dean’s neck, embarrassed.

“No, hey,” Dean pulled Sam back up to face him. “S’okay little brother. I, uh – I kinda like it.”

“Yeah?” Sam’s grin was unsure, but relieved.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, kissing along the column of Sam’s neck, sucking the skin between his lips to leave another mark. “Never would have thought you’d be so good at dirty talk.”

“That’s not the only thing I’m good at,” Sam smirked, and pressed the last inch of himself inside Dean, pulling a muffled ‘fuck’ from Dean. “You still good?” Sam checked.

“So good,” Dean moaned, pressing his hips back into Sam’s, like he was hoping to fuse the two of them together permanently.

“Can I move yet, or do you need a minute?” Sam asked.

“Would you just shut up and fuck me alrea –” Dean’s gripe was cut off abruptly by a moan when Sam pulled his hips back and slammed home again. Dean couldn’t get too many words out after that – the pleasure thrumming through his body had short circuited his brain. All he could think about, all he could feel, was Sam’s cock moving inside of him. The hot drag of Sam’s flesh against his was intoxicating, and he felt himself fucking his hips back up into Sam’s without necessarily deciding to do that.

“Shit, that’s it baby,” Sam hissed through gritted teeth, picking up the pace of his thrusts. “Feel so good Dean.” Dean could barely manage a whimper in acknowledgement. Sam leaned back on his heels to get better leverage, moving Dean’s ankles to his shoulders, and on the next thrust in he found Dean’s prostate, which Dean’s choked whine made very clear. “There we go,” Sam grinned down at him. “Bet you're glad I didn’t let you go home with that girl now, huh? No girl could ever make you feel like this, could they?”

“No,” Dean admitted. “Fuck no.” And it was true. Sex had never felt this intense before, this all-consuming, this nerve-frying. Sam hadn’t even touched his cock since he’d pushed inside him and he was already so fucking close to losing it. And he knew Sam could tell, too.

“You gonna cum for me, big brother?” Sam started fucking into him even harder, quicker. “Gonna cum with your little brother’s cock inside you?” Dean thought he nodded, but to be honest, he couldn’t be sure. “Good,” Sam groaned, “because I am so fucking close.”

Dean reached up to pull Sam back down to him. He wanted every inch of his body covered by Sam’s, wanted to drown under him. They kissed fiercely, tongues tangling and teeth clacking against each other as Sam fucked him faster and faster. The sweat coating their bodies made for an easy slide of Sam’s stomach against Dean’s cock and that extra bit of pressure was exactly what he needed to finally spiral out of control. He came noiselessly, any sound he might have made dying in his throat as every muscle in his body seized up. Thick white spurts caught against the hair on their chests, smearing between them.

“Holy shit,” Sam gasped as he suddenly ceased his frantic pace and froze, cock buried inside of Dean as deep as it could go. “Fuck,” Sam’s whimper was barely audible, but it was there. Dean’s hands absentmindedly combed through Sam’s hair as they both calmed down their breathing, soothing his little brother like he’d always tried to do, even though, given the circumstances, it probably should have been the other way around right now.

Eventually, Sam pulled out carefully and flopped down on the vacant side of the mattress. Dean dragged the crumpled sheet from the foot of the bed and wiped over his chest, then over Sam’s, to get the cum off before it dried too badly, before dropping back against the pillows and rolling into Sam’s side. He felt Sam startle for a moment before pulling Dean against him, arm curling around his shoulder.

“Hey, you okay, man?” Sam’s voice was soft, like he was worried he would scare Dean off.

“Yeah,” Dean considered, “yeah, I’m good, brother.”

“Not too disappointed I didn’t let that blonde come back with us?”

Dean laughed. “No, Sammy, not disappointed.”

“What if I said that … I thought that – maybe – I wanted you all to myself from now on?” Sam’s eyes caught his, hesitant.

“I’d say…” Dean let sharp exhale and a short laugh. “I’d say, it’s always been you and me. And I’ve never needed anyone else.”

Sam beamed down at him. “Good enough for me.”

Tags: @vulgar-library @tintentrinkerin @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore @petitgateau911 @whoreforackles @schaefchenherde @kickingitwithkirk @little-diable @delightfullykrispypeach @hawkerz12 @dylansbabygirl24 @mineshinamary @popsensationnicole23 @spn-problems @donthateme454 @doyouknowsamw @peridottea91​ @delightfulbakeryaliendeputy @fictionallemons @natastic @marvelfansworld @half-closeted-bi-girl @je-ai-de-la-amour-pour-dean @kiss-my-peachy-arse @tftumblin @alice101macwil @disneysloot @caitlinvd @crashlyrose @miufel @itsthedoctah10 @leftlokiofpuppy @devilsbbyy @austin-winchester67 @spnobsessed50

[localspiderboy]

I mean u don’t have to but billy Hargrove x male reader having sloppy sex in his car on rainy night 💁

Rainy Nights | Billy Hargrove x Male Reader *Nsfw*

Summary: Nothing better than sharing a cigarette with your favorite person on a rainy night.

Warnings - Smut, car sex, making out, slight dom/sub undertones, lots of pet names, the reader is receiving, reader on top, riding, uh bad writing lol

Authors notes- sorry this took like months I rewrote it 2 times and contemplated doing it again but I pushed through. I’m a sucker for Billy as you know and I could not resist writing this. Hope you like it! And I kinda maybe feel like possibly making a series to elaborate ore on their relationship I established at the beginning of this. Let me know if y’all want that! 🥺👉👈

If you don’t want to see NSFW work from me block the tag “lace spidey”

Word Count - 1618

Status: Edited

Hawkins, Indiana is a small town with small-minded people. If you were born here you stayed here, close to your family, and got a useless boring job. Then settle down and start a family of your own. Maybe that was ideal for some people but not for you.

You craved more to life than just sticking in this small town. However, things aren't all bad at Hawkins. There is one person in the whole town that understands your sentiment, who wants to leave as much as you. Billy Hargrove.

He serves as your escape from Hawkins. He is captivating and charming and somehow he makes it seem like this town isn't so small after all. Maybe it's because he's from California, or because of that tough-guy persona he has. Either way he takes away the stress that comes from living in a place likes Hawkins, and you do the same for him.

Laughter erupted from inside the Camaro that was parked on the side of the road. You leaned back in the passenger's seat, feet up on the dash, head thrown back and eyes closed as giggles left your lips. Billy always said he would kick your ass if you put your feet up on the dashboard but he always ends up letting it slide.

He sat next to you in the driver's seat, laughter escaping from his lips as well.

"That kid was scared shitless, it was hilarious!" You took the cigarette that Billy was holding in his fingers, bringing it to your lips. A couple of small giggles still leave your mouth before you inhale the smoke deeply, holding that warmth in your lungs for a moment before exhaling.

"He looked like he was gonna piss his pants." His head shook in amusement. Soon your laughter dies down, besides the small quiet chuckles from you, as you thought back to your day. It was silent besides the sounds of raindrops hitting the roof of the car. But the silence was nice, it made you feel like you had nothing to worry about.

"Shit I don't want to go home." You sighed as you sunk down deeper in the chair. At home, you would have to worry about the assignments you still have to finish for school and your parents pestering you about every little thing. Here in the Camaro, it felt like this was your world and it was simple and fun.

"Let's stay here a little longer."

Billy took the now small cigarette out of your hand, inhaling what he could before tossing it out the window. He leaned his arm against the center console, looking down at you with that charming smirk on his lips. He was also in no rush to get home.

"Yeah, and what makes you think I don't have other plans huh?" You challenged, sitting up and leaning closer to him. An eyebrow slightly raised as his gaze moved down to your lips.

"Oh, sweetheart—"

His voice was low, a lustful playful tone was laced in his words and it made a shiver go down your spine.

—The only plans you have, are with me."

By now you two were so close you could feel his breath right on your lips, all it took was for him to lean forward that caused the heated makeout session you were currently having.

You clenched tightly onto his shirt as he held a firm grip on the back of your neck. His fingers brushing through the short hairs at your nape. Billy dominated the kiss, his skilled tongue roaming through your mouth. He knew exactly what to do to get you riled up, even with just a kiss.

His grip on your hair tightened as he pulled away. A whine leaves your mouth as you lean forward, chasing after his lips.

The shit-eating grin on his face growing at your reaction. He licks at your lips teasingly before pulling away from you completely and reclining his chair.

"Come here, baby." He beckons you to his lap and you quickly oblige. A whisper of a curse escapes you as you sit and immediately feel his hard bulge against you. Billy held a strong grip on your waist, his hands spurring you on to grind your hips against him. Moans leaving both your lips as you do.

Fuck even just kissing Billy and grinding against him like this could bring you to your release right then and there. However, you had no interest in ending this too soon. Unbuttoning his shirt you allowed your hands to travel across his chest. His smooth skin and toned muscles felt so good against your fingertips. You let out a pleased hum as you felt him shudder underneath you when your fingers rubbed his nipples.

You could feel his hand moving to your pants, pulling them down just enough to get them out of the way, along with your underwear and you shivered at the feeling of the cold air on your skin. Billy's lips traveled down your jaw and neck nipping and sucking, making blotches of purple and red appear. His fingers touched your lips and you immediately took them in. The saltiness of his fingers was something so addicting and you couldn't get enough. Pulling away from your neck, he looked at you as you sucked on his fingers. Eyes half-lidded as you moved your head back and forth as if his cock was in your mouth.

"Shit- look at you angel." He groaned out, his voice deep and husky. You couldn't stop the moan that resonated in your throat. Everything about Billy was sexy and he definitely used that to his advantage.

Once he was satisfied Billy pulled his fingers from your lips. He wasted no time pushing a finger into you, swallowing the moan that left your lips as he kissed you. Eagerly you pushed back against his fingers that were somehow able to pleasure you in all the right ways.

Whispers of how good you were made you whine and clench around his fingers.

“Fuck you’re so tight around my fingers imagine how you around my cock.”

“Bill please-“ Your plea was cut off by Billy removing his fingers, though they were almost immediately replaced with the pressure from the tip of his cock pressing against you.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, you won’t have to wait for too long.” With a hand on your hips, he helped you lower yourself onto him. The moan that left his lips was borderline pornographic and it turned you on to no end. Whispering curses and gripping hard onto Billy’s shirt as you fully sat on his dick, already feeling so full in the best way.

This wasn’t the first time you and Billy have had sex but he still somehow leaves you breathless. “Go ahead pretty boy, fuck yourself on my cock~” His words sent a shiver down your spine, somehow adding to your arousal that was already through the roof.

At a steady pace, you lifted yourself up only to drop back down onto him, leaving open mouth kisses and love bites on his neck that would leave a bruise. Billy’s grip on your thighs was tight, lifting his hips to meet you in the middle. He muttered groans of how good you feel around him and praise. God those nicknames he called you turned you on to no end. Pretty boy. Baby. Sweetheart. Angel. It spurred you to do better so you could hear more.

Your pace got faster as you rocked your hips harder against him and one particularly well-placed thrust had you moaning and arching your back.

“Yeah, prince right there?” The smirk on his face was wide as you squirm on his lap, moving his hands to your hips he thrust up into you hard and fast, hitting your prostate every time. It was driving you nuts by this point only his name was leaving your lips coupled with moans and whines that often interrupted your words.

Your hand traveled down to your own cock, stroking yourself at the same pace his hips were moving. You quickly felt that familiar warmth in your stomach, burying your face in his neck you whined: “C-close, fuck I’m gonna-”

Quickly Billy gripped your hair, pulling you back so that he could look at you, with his lips close to yours looking right into your eyes he chuckled. “Gonna cum on my cock baby, huh?

Fuck go ahead darling, I want you to cum for me.” It was like his words were a trigger because almost immediately you came in your hand and on Billy’s stomach, long moans and curses leaving your lips you spammed as you arched your back, breathing heavily.

Billy didn’t let up the whole time, fucking you through your orgasm, he felt his own approaching as you clenched around him. His movements became less process as he got close and you were starting to feel the beginnings of over-sensitivity before he came into you. The moans that came out of his mouth were like music to his ears, he rocked himself slowly against you before coming to a stop.

You laid flush against Billy’s chest, both of you panting hard with his cock still inside you. You heard a breathless laugh from him as you kissed his bare chest, his sweat leaving a salty taste on your lips. Running his fingers through your hair he pulled your head up to look at him; his curls were sticking to his forehead and a thin layer of sweat coated his skin but he still had that classic smirk.

“Think you can go another round?”

[notmrskennedy]

Likeability

(GN!Reader x Spencer Reid)

A/N - I’ve rewritten this thing like six freaking times but oh well - I hope it at least goes over better than the last - please be gentle 

Summary - The team meets a very dislikable scientist that Spencer seems to fancy

W/C - 2.8k

Warnings - brief anatomy/bones/etc mentions (our scientist is a forensic anthropologist-ish) & a dash of swearing

Important! - this is the FIRST ending and the alternative ending that you’ll like a lot more will come along in the next day or so

----

Luke is holding his stomach in his hands. He could usually pride himself on keeping his cool, keeping his head—and stomach—together during a case. He’d seen enough dead bodies that this shouldn’t have thrown him like he’d just sailed twelve foot waves in a dingy. 

But he is, after all, standing over a mass grave. Watching a too giddy scientist dig up the bodies. 

You’ve captured everyone’s attention, for various reasons. Rossi is vaguely amused by your joyous shouting of bones and your rat moustached assistant. Luke can’t tear his eyes away from the car wreck—are you supposed to swing bones around like baseball bats? Reid seems more interested in your bad jokes and coveralls than he is in solving the case. 

The rat assistant—Stewart Walsh—squeezes between Luke and Reid, scuttling like some kind of diseased turtle. “Doctor Y/L/N!”

You barely stop pouring over the mud covered pelvis in your hands to even acknowledge him. 

“I just thought you should know that Dr. Evanston just got here.”

You look up, toss the bone to him, and snort. “Tell him the soil samples are four miles due east from here.”

“What’s wrong with Evanston?” Luke asks to no one in particular it seems, waving Stewart off to run for a group of approaching nerds in coveralls. 

Ignoring the question or maybe Luke, you just turn back to your search. Elbow deep in mud, being nice must not have been on the to-do list. Reid leans over, hands in his pockets, and whispers, “Evanston stole one of her research papers. I thought he was going to get his teeth kicked in—“

“Skull!” you holler. Luke isn’t stupid enough to miss the glare reserved for the sheepish Dr. Reid.

He clears his throat. “Thoughts so far, doctor?”

“I’m thinking beetles,” is all you say before turning back to your skull. Luke might not know many scientists, but he doesn’t think that most of them look at human skulls like its the Mona Lisa. Like this fat piece of bone held the answers to the universe inside its empty eye sockets. 

“Beetles?” Luke coughs. Rossi just shakes his head. Pretends this isn’t a conversation he’s having. Reid is still studying you like Luke might study infiltration schematics. Stewart runs up, out of breath, very rose coloured. 

You’re eyes are sparkling as you wade over to them with a new radius bone in your hands. Everyone bends like they know what they’re looking at and you point along the edge of the bone. “It’s a subtle difference but these bones have been cleaned before being buried. My guess is carrion beetles. They’re very hard workers. And—“ you switch to pointing at the radial head— “minute scoring and kerf marks. These look pretty old, so I’m assuming we’re getting close to the bottom.”

“So our unsub dismembered his victims,” Rossi begins, “then cleaned the pieces?”

You nod and hand off the bone to a very blushing Stewart. “I won’t know for sure until I’ve had a chance to examine all the bones. There’s nothing definitive yet. What a hobbyist though, right?”

You chuckle to yourself and dive back into fishing out more finger and wrist bones. Luke turns, runs his hands over his face, and hikes a thumb over his shoulder. “Where did we find her?”

Rossi shrugs, “FBI easter egg hunt.” Luke blinks, while Rossi chuckles at his gullibility. “Come on, the doctor’s the best in the field. Good kid, I can tell.” 

“Y/N’s great,” Spencer absently adds on, too busy staring at you. You’re explaining different types of dismemberment to Stewart like you’re discussing the rain. Luke grips onto his stomach just a little tighter. 

“Y/N, huh?” Luke teases, momentarily forgetting the unsettling feeling in his gut about you. “You two, uh, friends or something?”

It’s Reid’s turn to stumble. “Yeah, but it’s—we’re just—we’re just—.” 

Rossi shakes his head, slaps Reid on the shoulder. “Oh yeah, just friends. So, tell me. Do you talk about dismemberment before or after you make out?”

#

JJ wants to beg Emily not to make her go down into the basement. You’re down there. She knows it’s childish to be this avoidant—you are just a person after all. A creepy, psychopathic weirdo that makes JJ’s gut churn. She gets why Spencer’s taken to you—shared love of science and random trivia. She does. But that doesn’t mean JJ enjoys the cold ass morgue, smiling along as you ramble. Most of everyone’s limited contact with you has involved random facts and Stewart’s too intimate knowledge of fracture patterns. 

There had been ten minutes of reassurance from Emily that you were, in fact, not a horrible person. Ended with JJ making the cold and dark trek down to the morgue. She couldn’t imagine working down here all day long. No one to talk to, no one to strategise with, no where to go. Maybe it suited you. No one would have to listen. 

“—don’t know what to do!” echoes across the bottom of the stairwell, the morgue’s doors cracked open. The distress breaks JJ’s heart. Your voice stops her dead in her tracks.  

“They don’t hate you,” Spencer’s voice comes after. Gentler, softer. “They—they just don’t know you yet.”

“They don’t want to, Spence!” and JJ winces with the words. It always hurt more when the truth came out in that tone. “I get it! You know? I work with human remains and don’t bring my people skills with me when I’m on the job, but—that shouldn’t matter!” 

JJ winces again, tries to ignore how those are nothing short of teary sniffles echoing through her ears. She leans back against the wall and has no idea what to do. Spencer had obviously been down here for hours. Knew you well enough to get the teary truth. What could she do now? Interrupt? 

She’d walked into hostage situations less freakin’ stressful than this. 

“You’re right,” Spencer soothes, steadfast and strong, “it doesn’t matter. This isn’t—“

“It’s not your fault,” you sigh. JJ doesn’t want to hear the strangled touch to your voice. Doesn’t want to hear the break. “They’re your friends and I’m just your—“ 

 “Doctor!” Stewart calls and JJ could scream. You’re his what? 

At least, it’s as good as any moment to intrude. 

“What, Stewart?” you snapped, already broken away from Spencer with wet cheeks and stained glasses. You wipe them off haphazardly with the tail end of Spencer’s sweater sleeve—JJ couldn’t help but smile, even if it’s a little strangled. 

Stewart jumps like a wet cat and tosses a bundle of files into your hands. “Beetles.”

One word snatches the tears from your face. Snatches you away from Spencer’s side for one of the dozen skeletons on the tables. There was no reason to think that she’ll get her report from you now. With a rib bone in one hand and contemplation in your features—JJ can’t decide how unnerved she is—you’re a little too concentrated. 

Stewart scuttles around you. A little too attentive. A little too cherry tinted. Yep. No reports to be had from either of you. JJ turned to Spencer instead, hoping that maybe he’d be helpful. Plastered up like a billboard, JJ knows that saccharine smile isn’t going to get her anywhere. 

“Spence?”

He hums, halfheartedly tearing his eyes away. “Yeah?”

“I need the latest report for Emily, but I don’t think—“

“I’ll—just a second, JJ.” Spencer grins, sugary sweet, and slips away. JJ doesn’t miss how he places a hand on your shoulder as he passes. How you barely even notice that quite intimate contact. She also doesn’t miss how Stewart’s face sours at the action, how his eyes narrow enough that Spencer feasibly should’ve noticed. 

Reports in hand a minute later, JJ leans over to Spencer. Elbows him in the arm. “Stewart seems pretty jealous. Any reason for that?”

Spencer shrugs. “Wouldn’t know a thing about it.”

#

Rossi doesn’t have an opinion. Everyone keeps asking—oh Rossi, you’re the wisest of us all, what should we do about poor little Y/N? He doesn’t know, doesn’t care. You are just some scientist who is doing a thousand percent better job than any other forensics ‘expert’ he’s had the pleasure of working with. 

Your lab doesn’t smell. You don’t smell. Is there anything more to ask for? 

But he does get the brute of having to make the trek down to the morgue—god, his knees alone—and receives most of the reports from the not as horrible as everyone thinks Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. Who is joyfully humming while squinting over one of the skeleton’s hands. 

“Hey, doc,” he calls and you look up at him with an adorable sort of grin. “Got anything new?”

“Sure,” you chirp. Hesitate to wave him over. “If you want the details, that is.”

Rossi shakes his head, pulls up a stool to sit next to you and your subject. “I like to have as much knowledge as I can. You never know what will lead you to your un-sub.”

You settle your elbows on the table, straighten a stray finger bone. The team shouldn’t be worried about you being a psychopath. You’re dedicated, careful, attentive. Rossi hopes that if he ever gets turned into human remains, you’re the one looking over him. There’s been more care put into one skeleton than into his three combined marriages. 

“You’re in luck,” you answer, “I’ve got a lot to tell you about our attacker. You’ve got time, right?”

Rossi nods, smiles. “Plenty.”

#

Penelope still hasn’t met you and that kind of pisses her off. You haven’t made it upstairs once? She flies into some dingy Wyoming hovel of a police station for like a week and no one’s thought to bring you upstairs? Rude. 

She’s sitting in JJ’s desk chair, waiting for her and Luke to get back from interviewing a potential lead—some ex-felon who fit your makeshift profile. Reid’s scouring over some boring geographical profile, trying not to get annoyed as she nervously—angrily—rants about the case to him. She knows he’s tuning her out, but her work’s been put on the back burner until someone comes up with something to give her. 

There’s only so much a computer can find and she’s no profiler. 

It’s about five minutes after Reid snapped and left to get a coffee refill, when she picks up a call from the desk. “Hello?”

Creaking metal and shuddering breathing comes first. “Set the scalpel down” comes second.  She swallows, silent, and panicking. What the heck is she supposed to do? Paying attention to those hostage negotiation seminars that she definitely didn’t go to would’ve come in handy right about now. 

Said scalpel clatters onto some metal table, followed by a strong, “You really don’t want to do this. Please put the gun down.”

Oh god, this is happening. 

“You just—“ a male voice snips, bellowing out, “YOU DON’T LOOK AT ME.”

“I do look at you, Stewart,” you plead just as JJ and Luke clamour through the bullpen’s door. Penelope puts the call on speaker, mutes it, and screams for them. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Penelope sobs professionally, “someone’s got a gun.”

JJ runs for Emily’s office while Reid returns heedlessly. Luke puts a soft hand on Penelope’s cold one and squeezes. Newbie or not, it’s appreciated as the man’s voice returns. “I’ve tried for so long to get you to—to just—just look at me! I’ve done so much!”

“I know, Stewart,” you ease and Reid tenses. Nearly drops his coffee. “It’s not your fault. You’ve worked so hard.”

“Yeah,” Stewart sobs; Penelope can only imagine how crazy this kid must be. 

“Did you leave all those bodies for me, Stewart?” you question and everyone holds their breath. Luke squeezes harder on her hand. Reid’s twitching like a rabbit’s nose, a death grip on his mug, frozen as a Michigan pond. 

Stewart sniffles. Probably nods. Penelope doesn’t know whether to run or sit or cry. She decides it’s probably cry, but instead her fingers start moving to record the call, trace the office origin. 

“It was a great puzzle, Stewart, it was really genius. It was a fun case to follow, you know that.” You swallow hard, metal tinkles through the speaker. Please, Penelope begs, don’t let them kill each other. I haven’t met the doctor yet!

“Why did you kill these girls, Stewart?” your voice is so gentle and lulling Penelope almost forgets that she’s listening to you try to save your own life. 

 “I wanted you to look,” he says, sniffles. “I wanted you. I want you, Y/N. I want you to love me.”

It’s either her computer beeping or someone falling through a table or a gunshot. She doesn’t know. She’s crying too hard to care. 

#

Tara doesn’t know when she started to run—probably just after JJ, Luke, and Reid barrelled passed her by the bathroom shouting about the situation—but she’s almost to the morgue doors, right on Reid’s heels. Lord almighty, she feels so stupid. She’d had enough little one on one chats with Stewart to know he was some sort of psycho in disguise. To know that something was wrong with that kid. No one could last more than three minutes with your grad student assistant without wanting to take an eyeball out—his or theirs it didn’t matter. She’d let herself believe you when you told her that all forensic anthropologists seem like that. That there was nothing to worry about. 

Nothing to worry about her ass. 

Luke’s the first to storm the morgue, expecting what Tara is: you, dead, on the floor with Stewart on the brink of killing himself. But they stop and they stare and Reid beams on with the absurd look on your face. 

You’re shaking with rage, pointing a gun at a very unconscious, crumpled, bleeding Stewart Walsh. Your teeth are bared in what Tara would consider out of a comic book—ludicrous and of someone who’s completely lost their mind. JJ makes the mistake of asking if you’re alright.

“Alright?” you chirp, feral and ravenous. JJ and Luke shrink back as you shout, “I lived in Honduras for three years! This isn’t even the worst thing that’s happened to me. It’s my third fucking kidnapping!”

“T-third?” Luke croaks. 

“Third!” you shout again and recklessly set your gun on the table. Spencer grins, which sets you off further. “I’ve been nice. I’ve been accommodating. But this is my fourth psychotic grad student! I fucking swear—!”

Stewart groans—thank god he’s alive—and Spencer, thankfully, rushes forward to catch you before you can take anything else out on the kid. Tara’s heard rumours about mysterious other instances of your being under arrest. Illegal transportation of goods was one thing, police brutality was another. The scalpel sticking out of his knee is bad enough. 

She helps Luke haul Stewart to his feet, reeking of desperation and a much needed psych eval. JJ follows close behind, closes the morgue doors behind them. But not before they hear your muffled sobs and Spencer’s smiling. 

“You got him, Y/N.”

“No, Spence,” you correct, and Tara can’t help but be proud, “I kicked the snot out of him.”

#

Emily is pulling on her coat when the commotion starts. Penelope, JJ, and Luke are clamouring all over you and Reid, all asking a million too many questions for you to answer. She smiles as you hold your ground next to Reid, arms crossed and relatively relaxed. Emily hasn’t been asked to weigh in on the debate, but she likes you. 

And she hopes the reason will come out in the next five seconds. 

Penelope ensures that it does. She cuts through everyone’s chatter with a flourish of her hands. “Y/N, Spencer,” she demands, “you have to tell me: are you dating or what?”

It takes all of half a second for the pair of you to break out into laughter, fumbling over each other, bent up in hysterics. Emily hopes her own chuckles are well hidden. You elbow Reid hard, barely breathing enough to get the sentence out, “Tell ‘em, Spence.”

Reid shakes his head, elbows you back. “Siblings, guys, we’re siblings.”

“But—!”

“That can’t be—!”

“Biological?”

Penelope shakes her head, throws herself physically into the conversation. “Wait! No! I looked you up! You aren’t the other Dr. Reid, you’re Y/N Y/L/N!”

“Did you change your name?” JJ coughs. Her eyebrows can’t possibly get further up into her hairline as you nod. “Why? Why would you do that?”

You snort. “You don’t want to know.”

Readjusting her scarf, Emily doesn’t bother to hide her shit-eating grin. “Do something illegal, Y/N?”

“Of course not, Special Agent Emily Prentiss. I, a very upstanding citizen and Spencer’s lovely younger sibling, would never do anything that caused me to change my name lest I be arrested in six different countries. No, of course not.”

[kingcons]

Time tics by, a helluva boss FanFiction (part one of a collection of connected oneshots)

Words: 1,459

Genre: slice of life comedy with mild hurt/comfort.

Ok, this is it, your first day as an assassin.

You can do this.

You can do this.

“Millie, let’s do this.” The imp said excitedly as he swigged the last of his coffee. Millie giggled at her husband’s enthusiasm. “Alright honey, it’ll be good to be a little early I ‘spose. But uh, do we really need to be a whole thirty minutes early?” He glanced at the clock. Shit, she was right. Maybe it was a bit too early?

“You say that, but what if this is a test! What if we arrive on time and he fires us!” Moxxie began pacing back and forth on the kitchen floor tiles. “Even more so, what if we get there and we get into traffic and he’s gone home by then! What then Millie!” He grabbed his wife’s face dramatically. She laughed a little and cupped his face with her own hands. “Sweetheart, if that fucker does any of those things? We can find a new employer. It ain’t that big a deal.” He removed her face from his palms, wringing his hands in worry. “I know that on a logical and realistic level that’s most likely true, but the tiny percentage that you’re wrong really makes me think I’m gonna fuck this up.” He admitted with a sheepish grin. Millie noticed his eye twitching and his fists start to clench. She sighed. “Ok, if it’ll make ya feel better we can be early.” Moxxie calmed down noticeably at that. “Shit, my eye is acting up again.” He complained. “I told you, darlin’, we can afford the doctors?” Millie suggested. He shook his head. “I’ve asked them before actually. They said it’s stress related. I didn’t mention my other involuntary issues, but I kind of just assumed they are too.” Millie nodded. “Well I’m at least glad it ain’t nothin’ serious. Now come on, we got an all new job to go to!”

“Blitz! Get the fucking door already!” A woman’s voice boomed from inside. The two imps shared a concerned look. A crash could be heard on the other side of the door. “Okay, who the FUCK put greenie down on the floor!?” A male voice this time. “Stop complaining about your shitty plastic horses and answer the fucking door!” The woman again. And a gasp. “How dare you loona! I’ll have you know my plastic horses are an essential reason this company runs as well as it does!”

The door swung open, with a tall, long horned imp now facing the couple. “Mah-mah- Moxxie and Millie, Sir? For the mah- job interview?” Moxxie introduced him and his wife. “Oh… and I’m guessing you heard all that back there?” Millie nodded very enthusiastically. “May we come in, Blitzo, was it?” He shook his finger at her. “Nah sweet cheeks, the o is silent.” Furrowing his brow, Moxxie pointed at Blitzo. “Excuse me sir, what did you just call my wife?” Blitzo grinned deviously. “Oh, you two are a thing are you? Nice, how long is his wiener, is it short?”

Millie laughed a little, while the other glared at the taller. “That is totally inappropriate! And for your information, no it’s fucking not!” Moxxie huffed. He hadn’t even realised it yet but he had stormed inside. Millie catching up to him. Beginning to stamp his hoof and flap his hand, millie gave the still one a gently squeeze. Blitzo watched the two of them and smiled. “Hey, you haven’t met my daughter Loonie! Loona get in here!” Millie’s eyes seemed to sparkle. “Oooo! A little girl in the office! That’s fuckin’ adorable!” Blitzo rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, close mills, can I call you mills? But no cigar.” After a groan, there was loud stomping as a teenage hellhound busy with her phone flicked through presumably some form of social media showed up. “‘Sup, I’m loona. The receptionist I guess.”

“A pleasure to mah- meet you miss loona. I’m Moxxie, a new assassin here.” Blitzo turned around. “Hey wait a fuckin’ minuet, bitch boy, how do you know I’m hiring you two little ball busters?” Millie grinned. “Because, Blitz, we are your best choice. No one can beat Mox’s sharp shootin’ skills and me when I’m wieldin’ an axe!” She chirruped. The boss stroked his chin. “That so, huh? Welp, can’t argue with that. You’re hired!” Moxxie blinked. “Wait, what?” Blitzo sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I said you’re hired, short stack, what you deaf too? You got two disabilities?” Millie was smiling but gave him a warning look, Blitzo holding up his hands in surrender as a response. “No, I heard you. But really? Just like that? You don’t need to see how we are in the field or anything first?” Blitzo shook his head. “Do you know how hard it is for an imp to start a fucking business? Well, I’ll tell ya. It’s harder than my dick when I imagine it in your ass Moxxie. I mean, we’re all low in terms of hierarchy in hell. And naming it I.M.P was a fucking power move. So what do ya say, you in?” The couple looked at each other. Millie with pleading eyes before Moxxie sighed. “Fine. Mah- we’ll work with you. If you stop imagining your Satan dammed dick in my ass.” He pleaded. The taller chuckled. “No promises Mox!”

After getting a tour of the office, Millie and Loona began chatting while Moxxie and Blitzo discussed hours.

“This all looks good to me, Sir. Friday off too? Suits us both just fine -Mah-“ Moxxie said with a dramatic flinch. The flinching clenched and twisted his face painfully. “Sorry.” Moxxie apologized. “Tends to happen sometimes.” He shrugged. Blitzo simply stared. Then, seemingly out of the blue asked

“Do you have a disability?” Moxxie blinked, and opened his mouth ready to yell out how inappropriate and offensive that comment was. But his new boss held up his left hand indicating him to be quiet. “No, I’m being serious for a sec here. Are you disabled? Cause those,” he pointed at Moxxie’s twitching eye. “Those look an awful lot like tics.” Moxxie raised an eyebrow. “You what?”

Blitz chuckled. “You know, tics, involuntary movements that both are a pain in your ass and cause pain in your ass?” Moxxie sat there, jaw hanging low. “There’s… there’s a name for them?!” He exclaimed. Blitz nodded. “Yep! I got ‘em too! They’ve been calm today but I’ve also been suppressing them which’ll really fuck me over later but eh, it’s whatever.” Moxxie’s eyes began to water. The taller paled. “Oh- um, fuck I’m not good with crying. Did I overstep a line or is this just like- a medical problem you have?” He stammered. Moxxie smiled and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “The second one, sir. I’ve been struggling with them my whole life. I can’t believe that other people experience them too. It probably seems like nothing to you-“

“No, it’s not that at all,” Blitzo cut him off. “I completely understand, Moxxie. I understand how hard tics are to deal with. They’re hard…” Moxxie nodded.

“Just like my dick in your ass.”

“Refrain, sir! Wait! You said you could suppress them, how do you do that?” Blitzo gritted his teeth. “It’s not that easy, Mox. I can’t teach you it’s just an ability people with tics or tic disorders have. Plus they’re major, major downsides to suppression including dangerous consequences if done, like, too much. Best way I can describe it is like, not scratching a persistent itch for hours. The itch sometimes lessens, sometimes you can’t feel it at all, but it’s always just kind of there. Until after hours and hours you’ve gotta just- scratch? Does that make sense?” Moxxie snickered. “Hey, I never said I was a linguistics expert here!” Moxxie shook his head. “No, no it makes perfect sense. Thank you, sir.” Blitzo nodded.

“Alright, that’s too wholesome and nice for my liking let’s get to planning some kills!” He suddenly exclaimed to Moxxie, grinning. But Moxxie was smiling right with him.