#Active @ File Recovery

[jsqforknowledge]

(2024-02-07) Testing SYSVOL/File Replication Latency/Convergence Through PowerShell (Update 5)

A new version of the SYSVOL/File Replication Convergence Check script has been published containing updates, improvements, and bug fixes. Read more about it, and get the new version of the script, by clicking HERE. Any feedback, or feature requests? Just let me know! Oh, and I almost forgot to mention it, make sure to read the documentation first and also try it out first in a TEST environment…

[woniwontons]

dead end - CHAPTER TWO

bob reynolds x therapist!reader

summary: after being assigned to monitor bob reynolds’ recovery inside the new avengers tower, you try to keep your fears hidden. but between quiet training sessions and unsettling therapy logs, you start to realize he’s watching you more than he should—and that something inside him never stops whispering.

w.c: 2.1k

warnings: abuse by parent, psychological thriller, inaccurately depicted mental illness, emotional manipulation (by void), nightmares, slow burn, possessive themes, combat violence, unreliable realities, hallucinations, left some yearning crumbs for y'all in here since its shorter...

chapter nav: one | two | three | four | five | six

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ANONYMOUS POV

Transcript Log | INTERNAL FILE [REDACTED] Access Level: TOP SECRET Date: [REDACTED] Location: Off-site - Audio Transcript Only

Scientist 1: “Vitals?”

Scientist 2: “Stable. No unexpected rejection so far. Slight fluctuations during REM, but within limits.”

Scientist 1: “Neurological?”

Scientist 2: “That’s where it gets interesting. Her activity spikes in proximity to ▇▇▇▇▇.”

Scientist 1: “And the Void?”

Scientist 2: “We can’t detect it directly. But ▇▇▇▇'s energy readings dropped 17% during yesterday’s session. That’s the first time we’ve seen a suppression event without sedation or one of the New Avengers present.”

Scientist 1: “▇▇▇▇ doesn’t know?”

Scientist 2: “No. She thinks she’s been ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇. She was flagged in her old unit. High trauma index, low emotional volatility, adaptable but guarded.”

Scientist 1: “Are you saying ▇▇ ▇▇▇▇▇ is working?"

Scientist 2: “There's too many variables here to know for sure, but I would say we're working towards a successful run.”

Scientist 1: “Continue observation. Let's try to introduce physical contact. If ▇▇▇▇▇ starts to escalate, we’ll pull her.”

Scientist 2: “And if he doesn’t?”

Scientist 1: “Then we’ve found the answer to our biggest problem.”

End of File

READER POV

You were barefoot.

The floor beneath your feet was sticky with something—beer, grease, maybe both—and the carpeted hallway stunk of cigarette smoke that had long since stained the drywall yellow. You knew, instantly, this wasn’t your memory, or at least nowhere you had ever been before.

You turned your head slowly.

A battered recliner sat in the living room, worn through at the armrests, facing a television that loudly blasted a wrestling match. The broken blinds cast sunlight across the floor. Outside, you could just barely make out a patch of dying grass.

"Where am I?" you asked yourself, feeling so lucid in this dream.

Down the hall, a door slammed.

"Useless piece of shit!" a man's voice roared from the other side of the house. You froze.

A crash. Glass shattering against the floor.

"You thought I wouldn't find out what you said to your uncle about me? Fucking liar, can't even man up and say it to my face."

Heavy footsteps approached the room you were in. Fear shot up your chest as you held your breath, slowly backing away from the hall before running to the nearest door. A set of steps appeared before you as you yanked the door open, and you ran upstairs to escape whatever was coming in your direction.

An attic.

You creeped quietly inside, looking for somewhere to hide if the footsteps continued to follow. It was a mess up there, filled with boxes and old furniture.

A broken patch in the floorboards appeared itself to you, drawing you to it. You crouched onto the floor and took in the scene underneath.

It was a small bedroom. On the floor, hunched near the edge of a mattress stripped bare, sat a boy. Knees to chest. Head down. Breathing shallow.

You recognized him.

Even this young, even under a mop of sweat-drenched brunette hair, you knew it was Bob. Thin. Shoulders curled inward, ready to disappear.

And across from him, towering in the doorframe, was his father.

Drunk. Flushed red. Breathing hard as he held a folded belt in his grasp.

His hand balled into a fist and slammed the doorframe hard enough to splinter it.

"Look at me, boy! Have you got something wrong with you in the head now?"

Bob didn't move. He didn't even cry, and you felt your heart throbbing in pain at the sight.

You leaned back from the floor as you felt a change in the energy of the attic, your senses screaming in paranoia.

A presence.

Your body swung around and your eyes met with your reflection in a mirror propped up in the corner of the attic. The air around you dropped in temperature, and behind you, stood a proper reason to shudder.

The Void.

He didn’t speak immediately, only stood at your back—close enough that you could feel the shape of him. His voice came low and deep, curling beneath your skin.

"No one came for me then."

You made in a sharp intake breath, unsure of what to do about such a powerful being standing right behind you. The crack of a whipped belt stung your ear from the room below you, causing you to wince at the following sound of younger Bob's cries.

"Why... why am I here?" you whispered, your voice cracking.

"I remember every time I wished I could simply burn this house down to get the peace I wanted. Every moment in this house turned me further into this."

You watch him reach toward you in the mirror, and you shut your eyes in horror, squeezing them in a grimace. But the touch that came was not in aggression, but a gentle grace of your forearm that made the hair stand up in goosebumps. You felt the tingle of his exhale meeting the back of your ear as he bent down to whisper.

"Is it wrong to want you to see it all?"

Your voice trembled. “This isn’t my memory to have, I shouldn't be here.”

"Well you've already seen it now, haven't you?"

You opened your eyes again to watch him. He tilted his head further forward, his gaze sweeping over the outline of your side profile. Refusing to look over, you held your gaze to the mirror, ignoring the sight of his blurred face in your peripheral. Examining you.

"You make it so quiet, I ought to consider you a threat." His hand on your forearm creeped downwards, his finger tips sliding down to the back of your palm. "But I can't help but to feel so intrigued."

You couldn’t breathe now. Your heart beat so loudly, you swore he could hear it hitting the inside of your chest.

"Let me keep you, y/n."

The training room on Sublevel 3 was colder than you remembered.

Bright, clinical lights shone down from above, reflecting off the polished floors. In the center of the mat, Bucky stood with his fists raised, sweat darkening the fabric of his T-shirt. Across from him, chest heaving but posture composed, was Bob.

He hadn’t seen you enter.

Neither had Bucky. But Yelena had.

She sat on the edge of a supply crate, legs crossed, examining the scene in front of her with careful precision. Her eyes flicked to you the moment you stepped inside and she swung her legs over the wooden crate to talk.

"You weren't on the schedule for today," she said, voice low.

“I’m not here officially,” you replied, watching as Bob ducked a punch and countered with a clean elbow to Bucky’s side. “Harding asked me to monitor some responses.”

That was a lie, but you needed to see Bob again. Or rather, you felt a strong, impulsive urge to do so. Especially after the dream.

“Again,” Bucky barked.

Bob nodded once. Then lunged.

The fight seemed brutal to you, all just weight and momentum. Bucky dodged the first blow and swept Bob’s leg, but Bob twisted midair, landing hard and kicking upward in the same motion.

You stepped closer to Yelena, clipboard clutched to your chest more out of reflex than necessity.

"Always with the clipboard, do you carry that around with you 24/7?" Yelena asked sarcastically. You scoffed back a laugh, realizing how nerdy you likely looked at all times. She eased your nerves a bit and you relaxed, letting your shoulders down as you watched the show.

Except, you couldn't help but notice that Bob was holding back. You could feel it.

Each punch he threw stopped just short of full force, like he was afraid of what would happen if he let go. But every time Bucky hit him, especially when it was hard, sharp, or unexpected, you saw it.

His eyes.

Brown. Then gold. Then back again.

A flash. So quick, you might’ve thought you imagined it. But the next time it happened, his hands changed too.

From flesh to something blacker than shadows, a smoke crawled up his wrists. Then, flickering back to normal as if nothing had happened.

Bucky didn’t flinch. He just kept pushing him.

"Does that always happen? It's in the notes, but I've never seen it with my eyes before," you question Yelena.

She shrugs, looking at you curiously. "Usually it's a little crazier than this. I'm getting a bit bored if I'm being honest."

Your reply is interrupted by Bucky's shout, “Focus, Bob. Control it.”

Bob gritted his teeth, catching Bucky’s next blow with a forearm. “I am.”

The room felt like it was vibrating slightly. Just under the surface.

You took another step forward.

"Let m̷̻̑e̸͔̍ ̵̙͋o̸͖̕u̵̡̓t̸̫͛."

The hairs on your arm sparked up again in shock. It wasn’t spoken aloud, but you felt it. Like pressure against your ribs. A whisper from inside someone else’s lungs. Something that had never occurred to you before. You looked to your side, but Yelena didn't seem to have heard the demonic voice that you had.

Bob swung wide and missed.

Bucky came in low and landed a blow to his ribs.

Bob staggered—and his eyes flared gold for just a second too long.

CRACK.

The floor beneath his foot cracked outward like broken glass.

Bucky immediately backed off, hands raised. “Bob—”

Bob doubled over, clutching his head.

“I’m fine,” he growled through his teeth, though his fingers had turned black again, wrists trembling. And simultaneously, a pressure grew in your own chest as he slowly lost control.

Bucky didn’t move.

Yelena stood, walking closer to the center of the room where the boys stood still. You followed closely behind her, ready to assist in any way you could.

"Bob?" Yelena spoke as she stopped in front of his crouched form.

And that was when Bob’s head snapped up, golden eyes searching the room like an animal sensing something off.

Then he saw you.

His posture stilled. His chest heaved once.

All of the blackness in his hands retreated at once.

“Did I lose control again?” he said softly, voice raw. It seemed like a question for the room, but he was staring directly at you. "Why do you make it so... quiet?"

You felt pathetic as your heart dropped as the memory of what the void said to you in the dream. "What?"

Bob straightened up quickly, smoothing the bottom of his shirt.

"Nothing," he exclaimed quickly, walking off to retrieve his water bottle at the corner of their training room.

Yelena looked between the two of you, confusion knitting her brows together. "What the hell was that?"

"Also nothing," you say curtly before spinning on your heel and walking away, noting the event on your clipboard.

The walls of Dr. Harding’s office were too white. The kind of professional warmth that pretended it wasn’t designed to contain people.

The artificial daylight panels made you squint as you sat in the stiff-backed chair across from her desk, hands folded politely in your lap. Your ridiculous clipboard rested beside you, useless for once.

Harding looked up from her tablet, glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. “Thank you for coming by on short notice.”

You gave a small nod. “Of course. Is this about yesterday’s training observation?”

“Partly.” She adjusted something on her screen. “I just wanted to check in personally. After all, this assignment came with… heightened expectations.”

That was her way of saying: You aren't meeting them.

“I’ve been logging everything daily,” you said quickly. “Vitals. Verbal behavior. Motor regulation. There’s nothing I haven’t reported.”

Harding smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I know. Your notes have been thorough.” She paused, then added, “Surprisingly intuitive, actually.”

You sat up a little straighter.

She tapped her stylus once, then looked at you again. “How have you been sleeping?”

You blinked. “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” she repeated. “Any dreams? Emotional disturbances?”

You hesitated, just a second too long.

Harding noticed.

You cleared your throat. “I really don’t remember most of them.”

She smiled again. “That’s normal, especially under cognitive strain. The stress of being near dangerous people can elevate cortisol, even unconsciously.”

You gave a tight nod. “I’ve managed worse.”

“I’m sure you have.” She leaned forward slightly. “Still, Reynolds is… uniquely sensitive with his emotions. His feelings vary amongst the different staff members. But with you,” She gestured idly. “he seems to have a preference for.”

You looked at her. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Harding hummed. “Mm. That’s what makes it so effective.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. Your hands folded tighter in confusion.

“Have you noticed any… changes in your own behavior since starting the assignment?”

The question was clinical. Neutral. Like she was measuring you against a standard you weren’t aware of.

“No,” you said, but your voice came out flatter than intended.

Dr. Harding didn’t argue though. Just tapped her stylus again.

The silence dragged.

You stood a little too quickly. “If that’s all, I have reports to finish.”

She nodded, but you could feel her eyes following you even as you turned.

“Thank you,” she said politely. “And y/n? Please let me know if your dreams become more memorable to you.”

You sincerely hoped they did not become more memorable than they already were.

link to chapter three

hi everyone! a bit of a shorter update that i think is a good segue into the events of chapter three. i wanted to get this one out quickly since i know we're all starving for more bob content... or at least i am.

if you have any requests for bob one-shots, please feel free to let me know! link to my requests is in my pinned post <3

ALSO: if you are not currently on the taglist, please comment down below if you want to be! if you already commented on chapter one, don't worry because i've already added you :)

[heaven-s-black-box]

Notes- To the Beach!; GOM x fem!Reader

Return to File

Recovery date: May 10th, 2024

Description: hiii!! hope your having a good day, I was wondering if I could request GoM x reader (separately) with a maybe more quiet and shy reader when they go to the beach and see her in a bikini (maybe a bit suggestiveee but it’s up to you!) they can get a bit flustered and protective 😭 thank you so much and dw if you don’t/can’t complete it <3,

Notes: This work was recovered in conjunction with @smtere we thank them for their contributions. Hope you don't mind the headcanons, it was the easiest for so many people. This is meant to be post last game, probably summer of their 3rd year.

Back to directory

Akashi

Is the most outwardly chill about it

Though he does find his gaze drifting and lingering (Aomine got halfway through calling him out once before eating sand)

The first time he justifies it as admiring your swimsuit, every other time is just a whoopsie

He’s not weird about it though, and he tries his best not to stare

Makes sure you put on sunscreen/ cover up if he thinks you need it

Will complement how it looks on you

I did say “most outwardly chill” and I meant it

He may seem cool as a cucumber but if you hug him he will short circuit

He doesn’t get much affection on a normal day and while he is much more mature than his friends, I refuse to believe this boy is not fighting off indecent thoughts every so often

Build a sand castle with him please

Midorima

Flustered and can’t hide it

Dude is pink, and not from the sun

His gaze also drifts and lingers but he won’t even give himself a chance to admire you

You cannot convince me Takao has not corrupted him, at least a bit, he can’t look at you without hear Takao teasing him

Like Akashi he looks out for you if you’re prone to sunburn

Midorima isn’t weird about you wearing a bikini, he just makes it weird by actively avoiding looking anywhere but your face

He definitely relaxes throughout the day though

By the time you’re leaving he compliments you, having finally looked somewhere other than your face

He’s fine with whatever you want to do, might even begrudgingly let you bury him

Kise

The most chill, he has sisters so bikinis aren’t something overly suggestive to him

That said it’s you so it does make him a bit flustered

He is also the most obviously protective because as a model he’s very familiar with… lingering gazes, there will always be weirdos

Keeps a shirt on while on the beach, claiming he can’t afford to burn, but it's actually incase you want it for whatever reason

He definitely enjoys the extra contact though, whether that be an arm around your waist or offering to carry you on his back, Kise strikes me as a touchy person

If your swimsuit starts to come loose he’ll offer to fix it for you

Showers you in complements

Wants to collect shells and swim

Murasakibara

Could not give two shits

Kise was chill, Murisakibara just doesn’t care

He compliments the swim suit, and he definitely stares a bit but when he gets caught he apologizes and looks away

Won’t initiate physical contact but doesn’t mind it, feeling your skin brush against his when you hugged him did make him jump a bit though

I don’t really have much to say here because I really don’t think he’d care

Although he will confront anyone making you uncomfortable, his stature is more than enough to make most people back down

Wants to spend the day lounging on the beach, you might be able to convince him to come float with you

Aomine

If it was anyone but Aomine it would be weird

Shamelessly stares

You can call him out on it but he’ll just make a sound of acknowledgement and keep staring, unless you tell him he’s making you uncomfortable

He may be forward and unashamed but he’s not a complete ass

If someone else is making you uncomfortable or just keeps staring he will fight them, though he tries to avoid that

Asked Momoi for one of her towel jackets for you incase you wanted it, he almost regretted it when she started teasing him for being a softy

He compliments you, but it’s stuff like “your boobs look nice”

Will imply he’d like to see you “show off” more often

Also fairly touchy, like Kise, and will offer to help fix your swimsuit if needed

He will also throw you into the water, there is no escaping

Kuroko

Like Akashi he’s outwardly cool and inwardly panicking just a bit

He will try and fight anyone making you uncomfortable but Aomine and the others have to save him

Like Akashi and Midorima will keep an eye out if you’re prone to sunburn

Any physical contact you make with him will spook him just a bit

He’s close with Momoi, and we know she wears bikinis so I think like with Kise they aren’t anything suggestive to him

I don’t have much to say here either because Kuroko doesn’t really wear his heart on his sleeve, though he will linger a bit closer to you throughout the day

Complements your swimsuit

Prefers to spend the day reading on the beach

[604to647]

Nice and Slow

2.3K / Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader

Summary: Detective Tim Rockford is forced to convalesce after getting shot.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI pls). Established relationship, reference to injury, f!oral, PiV, fingering, consensual somno (m!oral). Nicknames as usual (Shutterbug, baby), soft!Tim, but first: grumpy!Tim 😂

A/N: A direct follow-up to Wife Material, though as with all The Rockford Portfolio instalments, can be read standalone. Written for @baronessvonglitter's Noun-iversary Writing Challenge - Adriana assigned me the best inspo pics! Congratulations on your Tumblr anniversary, darling - thank you for always being so supportive of these two, I hope you enjoy this one! 😘😘

Dividers by @saradika-graphics / Series Masterlist

“Shutterbug, if I say something, do you promise not to get mad?”

You cock your eyebrow at Detective Rockford the same way you’ve seen him do a million times – an unspoken invitation to continue without any commitment.  You know what he’s going to say anyways.

“You drive really slow.”

“I’m going the speed limit, Tim,” you tut, tone indulgent.

“Exactly,” his sigh comes with no actual bite, faux exasperation a poor cover for your detective’s affection.

“From the way you’ve been protesting this trip, I didn’t think you would be in such hurry to get there,” you tease, chuckling when you see Tim’s sheepish look.  Protest is really too mild a description – Tim had kicked up a real fuss is what had happened.  You suppose you wouldn’t have been too keen on being told to leave town by your boss either, but you can’t pretend you didn’t feel a sense of relief when Captain Christine Mendoza put her foot down on the matter.  It’s been two weeks since Tim was released from the hospital, sent home with doctor’s orders for strict rest and relaxation - told to limit all activity and allow his shoulder injury to heal. 

Technically, Detective Rockford had been on department mandated medical leave for those same two weeks - ordered to hand over all his open cases and investigations to colleagues for the duration of his recovery.  But after the captain caught Tim in the precinct trying to sneak out case files to work on at home for the third time, she had given you a call - offering her Big Bear Lake cabin along with a suggestion (read: command) that Tim get out of her hair and out of town in order to properly recuperate. 

Tim had grumbled loudly about his superior’s orders.  He then grumbled again when Detective Calloway came by (also at their captain’s behest) to collect all the rogue policework that had somehow mysteriously ended up spread out on your dining room table.  He was still grumbling as he watched you pack only his comfiest clothes for the weeklong sojourn, looking forlornly at his trusty leather holster hanging on your bedpost.  And he grumbled the loudest when you prohibited him from driving and instead, retrieved the car that he always grumbles about you maintaining and paying for, even though he’s perfectly happy to drive you everywhere and anywhere you need.  He was still grumbling as you punched in the location of the cabin to which he’s being exiled (cue eye roll) into the GPS.

He’s grumbling again now, but you take no offense to it – you actually find Tim’s grumpiness to be endearing, “Well, get used to this speed of things, Detective Rockford.  For an entire week, we’re going to be doing things nice and slow, putting your recovery first – no heavy lifting, physical OR mental.  That means no policework.”

“I feel like a naughty child who’s been sent to his room.”

“You are.  It’s just that the room you’re being sent to is the cabin your captain got in her divorce.”

This gets you a hearty laugh; spirits lifted, Tim takes one of your hands and holds it for the remainder of the drive.

As you predicted, it’s an effort for Tim to settle into the leisurely pace you set for the week. 

For the first few mornings, you have to pull him back into bed after his internal alarm clock wakes him shockingly early, forcing Tim to nestle back beneath the covers under the guise of needing your personal furnace to guard against the crisp mountain air.  Hooking your leg over his thigh, you slide your freezing hands underneath your man’s sleep shirt and around his massive trunk, ignoring Detective Rockford’s murmured complaints - holding him hostage until his breathing evens and he once again purrs with sleep.

To your delight, it only takes two days for sleeping in to become the norm and your mornings to start lazy, with you blinking awake to Tim still completely dead to the world, handsome face serene and slumbering frame melted deep into the mattress.

Some days, Tim sleeps long enough to allow you to bring him breakfast in bed.  The two of you drink coffee and nibble on toast and fruit while curled up in the still warm sheets, chatting about nothing and everything – sometimes putting off clean up in favour of burrowing deeper into your makeshift nest, whiling away the remainder of the morning horizontal, cuddling and reading.

Other mornings, Tim will lumber into the kitchen and sidle up nice and slow behind you, wrapping his good arm around your middle and nuzzling your neck and hair as you finish cooking.  Taking the food out onto the cabin porch, you and Detective Rockford wrap yourselves in blankets and enjoy your meal amidst the stilled peace of a sleepy forest.

If the weather allows, you take long nature walks - stretching your legs and filling your lungs with fresh air while breathing in the sweet scent of all-knowing trees.  You take a million photos of foliage and occasionally, a furry creature with whom you’re lucky enough to cross paths.  Tim is ever patient with your enthusiasm on these hikes, smiling indulgently as you try different angles and lenses and excitedly show him the resulting pictures.

Often, you’ll pack a spread that’s perfect for picnicking at any number of warm spots near the trails.  If he can find a comfortable old growth trunk to lean against, you’ll rest between Tim’s legs and lay back into his welcoming chest, the two of you cloud watching or getting lost in your respective books until it’s time to head back.

On the days when you return to the cabin for lunch, the meals you joyfully prepare together are simple and delicious, savoured on the same table where, once cleared, Tim lays you down; your legs dangle over the edge and bracket the detective’s large frame as he sits down at the head of the table for dessert.  You spread and hold your legs wide as an offering, surrendering to your fate as Tim eats you out, nice and slow.

Tim’s mouth and tongue take to meandering at a near agonizing pace.  There’s no hurry or rush in his welcomed torture of your needy cunty; he licks fat, deliberate swipes through your folds, drawing your arousal onto his tongue - relishing your taste and lapping at your drippy hole so not to miss a single drop.  Detective Rockford teases your slit with only the tips of his tongue and fingers, dabbing just deep enough to make you whine and beg for reprieve before withdrawing – not to withhold but so he can worship you with sucking open mouth kisses that make your pussy cry.  He devours you with a slow reverence and smirks in satisfaction when you grasp and tug impatiently on his soft curls, murmuring into your heat, “Just doing what I’m told, baby: going nice and slow.”  He makes you fall apart over and over on his tongue, lips, fingers, all while penning long and winding love letters to his beloved Shutterbug on your clit as you gush.

With no set routine or schedule to keep, your afternoons arrange themselves stress-free.  Dinner might be started early so that it has time to simmer and reduce.  You organize and edit your photos.  DVDs you borrowed from the library of the BBC’s Poirot series (Tim absolutely refuses to acknowledge the current Kenneth Branagh adaptations) are put into rotation.  There is baking, more reading, always cuddles, lots of naps.

Every night after a satiating dinner, you ride your detective nice and slow in front of the fire.  The warmth from the flames licks at your naked body, falling and rising while Tim sucks dark purple marks into the soft swells of your breasts.  Your orgasms build, gentle and steady, as you do the welcomed work - patience its own virtue; when you finally come, thighs quaking, chest heaving and damp from the exertion, Tim seals his lips to yours in gratitude, drinking in your stuttering moans as the vice grip of your pussy milks him until he’s dry.

There’s a mirror at the foot of the master bed and early on, you and Tim discover that he can sit on the edge comfortably with you in his lap, both facing it.  Together, the two of you watch, mesmerized, as you slowly sink down on Tim’s girthy cock – twin mouths agape, panting at the way he splits you open.  Tim can’t decide where to look: the hypnotic sway and bounce of your ample tits as you gyrate and bound in his lap; the way your pretty face scrunches in pleasure, glazed over eyes squeezing shut until he commands them to open and return to the lascivious reflection in the glass; the place where you’re joined and how you stretch around him shiny and slick, a bright ring of cream collecting at his base; or perhaps the sheen of your inner thighs as they coat with the same arousal that’s dripping down his balls. 

The only time Tim is able to tear his eyes from the pornographic scene playing in slo-mo before him is when you loll your head back against his good shoulder, irresistible lips searching for his, gasping those filthy words that tighten his balls without fail every time: “Fill me up, Detective - please.”  His lustful and adoring gaze fixes to yours and the spark from your lips touching ignites a final string of fireworks, the intensity of Tim’s pulsing high setting off your own.

Having been given the go ahead by Tim’s surgeon, you insist on long, warm baths every night.  The weight of Tim’s bulk resting between your legs as you lazily wash him brings you a comfort you can hardly explain - like a weighted blanket in human form.  Careful to keep his injured shoulder above the waterline, you eye Detective Rockford’s surgical incision warily – willing it with the threat of your ire alone to remain healed and healthy.  For its obedience, you flutter soft pecks to the now smoothed wound, kissing away any memory of its former trauma… for you both.  You and Detective Rockford soak away your evenings, leaving the tub only when the bathroom steam starts to clear and your bodies feel toasty through and through, your smiles dopey from multiple glasses of wine.

Tim being ordered to sleep on his back for the duration of his recovery has necessitated a change to your usual sleeping positions.  Normally, your detective crowds your side, pulling you close and flush to his hard chest as you sleep, but now it’s you who cozies into his space, tucking yourself under his protective wing and needing the reassuring feel of his even breathing beneath your palm in order to fall asleep.  You won’t admit it to Tim, but you haven’t been able to sleep through the night since he got shot; something in your subconscious implores you to wake every night, seeking the reassurance of Tim’s presence - needing to confirm that he is indeed next to you, safe and well. 

Night after night, you find yourself climbing on top of Tim after you awaken anxious; the relief of seeing him sleeping peacefully giving way to something more urgent and needy.  Careful not to disturb your detective unnecessarily, you take him gently in your mouth, not sure what makes you swell with pride more: the way he thickens under the swirl of your tongue, or when you hear Tim’s sleepy baritone growl calling you his good girl. 

Tim lets loose a stream of praise as you mount him: feels so good, taking me so well, made for me; rambling promises of all the dirty and rough things he’s going to do to your heavenly body in repayment once his shoulder is strong enough.  Like a magpie, he’s drawn to your pert nipples, hard like gemstones and glittering in the silver of the moon’s cold light, begging for his touch – he answers their call, flicking and teasing your aching peaks between his rough fingers until you cry.  Tim prays up to you, awed and humbled as you roll and grind your hips over him, nice and slow.  The moonlight bathes your soft skin and makes it glow, haloing your pretty face, already blindingly beautiful and so much like home – Tim thinks you must be an angel crafted by celestial hands just for him.  He tells you so, over and over, calling you gorgeous and divine, declaring that you feel so perfect, and that he’s so grateful and happy to be yours.  Detective Rockford thanks you repeatedly for taking care of him, loving him, worrying for him – he’s heard every soft and fearful gasp when you wake in the dead of night and felt the desperate searching of your hands, the same ones that snake around his midsection and hold him extra tight once you find him. 

Overcome, he pledges to always be the man you see in him, one who’s worthy of your attention and love, deserving of the honour of returning those same affections.  You sing back your own promises of forever and collapse, euphoric, into Tim’s waiting embrace as he fills you.

By the end of the week, you’re pleased to find Detective Rockford decidedly less grumpy, his shoulder and voice stronger, his spirit settled and at ease, having embraced the quiet life – even if only temporarily.

On the drive home, absent of any complaints from your passenger, you look over at Tim teasingly, “So, Detective, that wasn’t so bad, right?  Perhaps you even enjoyed yourself?”  At his assenting chuckle, your heart soars – this is all you ever wanted, “I think I rather prefer this nice and slow way of living once in a while.  What do you think, Tim – maybe we could do this again?”  Detective Rockford brings your hand, the one he’s been holding since you started the car, to his lips and peppers your knuckles with sweet kisses, earnest in his answer, “I would choose any life with you, Shutterbug.”

Some pics from Shutterbug:

I'm still working my way back to being on here FT, so tagging a few people who seemed to have enjoyed last week's Timmy and Shutterbug (thank you!🥹): @milla-frenchy @lillaydee @sunnytuliptime @kulekehe @nandan11

@inept-the-magnificent @aurorawritestoescape @sawymredfox @harriedandharassed @greenwitchfromthewoods

@tuquoquebrute @vie-is-punk @misstokyo7love @angiewatson @tateypots

@ghotifishreads @bluesweaters15

[persephonemorningstar]

Crimson & Clover

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Additional Tags: Secret Marriage, Probably incorrect military lingo/information (don't come for me)

Crimson and Clover

You hated sitting in these exam rooms. They were cold and bland, always smelling strongly of cleaning products. Four more months of these monthly check ins and you could go back to your once a year physicals and medical exams after assignment completions. The base doc had just stepped out to check on your blood test results and you were eager for his return so you could one stop staring at the boring painting of sailboat across from you and also so you could go grab lunch at the mess hall with the team. At this rate the guys would be done eating by the time you made it though. 

Just as you were giving up hope that the doc was ever coming back for you and accepting your fate of being destined to be stuck in this dingy, boring exam room until the end of time the doc comes back into the room holding your file and looking through the papers in it.You sit up a bit straighter as he starts to speak. “Well everything looks good here. Cell count is where it should be and levels all look good. I’d say your recovery since the incident six months ago is coming along nicely. You’ve resumed all regular activities now, correct?”

You nod your head, “being smart about it and not taking on too much at once, always make sure to workout with a partner as well but back to my regular schedule and routine”

He nods, “that’s good, sounds like we are right on track and following instruction. Well I think we’ve covered everything we need to for this visit you are free to go, see you same time next month”

You cheer a silent victory in your head.Finally you can get a bite to eat. As you’re hopping off the exam table the doctor is still looking at your blood test results, “one more thing Sergeant L/N, almost forgot to mention this but just need to do so for the notes, your pregnancy test came back negative as well”

You roll your eyes because of course it did, you could of told them that, the doctor just chuckles at your obvious dismay “I know but you know the rules”

You nod your head “yeah all females on base must get a pregnancy test at every medical appointment for precautions” you say as you reach for the door knob to finally make your escape. 

The doc hums behind you “especially newlyweds like yourself”

You stumble into the door spinning back around to look at the doc, who looks startled by your reaction. “I’m sorry, what did you just say?!”

“Newlyweds tend to get a little overzealous, you’d be amazed by the number of pregnancies we actually deal with around here sometimes”. You shake your head and wave your hand at him “no the part about me being a newlywed”you demand.

He looks at you confused and then rifles through your file, looking over something before speaking again “well your file got updated about five and a half months ago with a wedding certificate and a new primary emergency contact”

What the actual fuck?! You’re screaming internally because what the actual fuck. It has to be a mistake! Five and a half months ago you were just finally being let out of the hospital wing here on base and moved into the barracks with the 141 team. People don’t just get married without knowing it and you certainly don’t. Bewildered, you look at the doc and say “Doc I think you have the wrong file or something. I didn’t get hitched, I’m not even seeing anyone right now. I don’t even have a next of kin on my file let alone a primary emergency contact”

His brow furrows and he looks down again but shakes his head, “no, it says right here Sergeant Y/N L/N and Lieutenant Simon Riley” 

He holds up the paper he is reading from which you can see is a copy of a marriage certificate and sure enough you see your name and Ghost’s name on it as well. “It looks like when this got filed your husband Lieutenant Riley got updated as your new primary emergency contact”

Son of a bitch! You don’t even speak, there are no words at least none for the doc to hear. Without a second though you snatch the paper from his hand and you can hear him protesting as you storm out of the room, down the hall and right out of the med clinic with the piece of paper in hand; heading straight in the direction of the mess hall. 

The 141 isn’t hard to miss. Sitting at the same table as usual, one that faces all doors and windows with their backs to the wall, not to mention an over six feet beast of a man with a balaclava isn’t exactly common. Price clocks you first as you storm in and approach the table. He lifts a hand in greeting that you ignore to busy glaring at Ghost who’s listening to something Soap is saying to him but you can see his eyes following you as you walk over.

Getting to the table you harshly pull out a chair, the legs squeaking loudly on the ground and sit down making sure to hold Ghost’s eye contact the entire time. All their eyes are on you now but your glare is being directed solely at Ghost while you look for any indication in his eyes that he knows what you’ve just discovered. An awkward silence falls around the table as you just sit there burning your eyes into Ghost without saying anything, letting the tension build. 

Price breaks the silence first “everything go alright at the med check, Seph?”

Not taking your eyes off of Ghost you give Price a nod “yeah still all clear for full activity, doc will send you over the med report later”

“That’s great to hea-”

You cut him off “you know they do extensive blood work at all of these appointments to check my cell count and levels, really fucking annoying but do you know what else they check for?”

You address it to the group but your eyes never leave Ghost’s. The both of you are locked in on each other, neither willing to be the first to look away. No one is answering so you off a clue “I’ll give you hint, only the females on base get checked for it”

After a moment you hear Soap say “pregnancy?”

The chuckle that leaves your mouth has no humor behind it and Ghost’s eyes narrow at you a little bit, probably concerned you are having a breakdown of some sort.

“Correct, Johnny!” you exclaim

“There I was rolling my eyes at the doctor when he told me it came back negative because yeah no shit I could have told him that, and do you know what he says to me? Do you?!”

Your voice getting a little louder, drawing the attention of the table next to you and out of your peripheral you see the other shake their head. Ghost however doesn’t move, just continues to stare at you and if you didn’t know better you would say he wasn’t even breathing. 

“He says he knows it’s annoying but that it’s especially important to make sure they are testing newlyweds. NEWLYWEDS!”

There it is a slight change in Ghost’s eyes, if you had blinked you would have missed it. Johnny starts to say something “Lass I think yo-”. Johnny is cut off by you swiping your arm across the table and flinging Ghost’s tray into the table next to you. Standing quickly you slap the marriage certificate down in front of him right where the tray had been.

He doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t move and his eyes never leave yours as you growl out “explain yourself!”

He just continues staring at you, neither of you blinking. You’re breathing heavily, adrenaline and rage racing through your veins. It’s clear you’re ready for a fight.

“Is that a marriage certificate?” you hear Soap ask and you can feel the piece of paper being slipped from under your fingers.

“Holy shit” you hear Gaz say, you can feel his weight as he leans against the table to look at the certificate with Price and Soap. 

“You can’t marry people without their knowledge” you seethe at Ghost. Ghost still says nothing but you can see the twinkle in his eye as if he is saying ��oh but I can” and it infuriates you more. You hear a snicker from your right and you snap your head in Soap’s direction, slamming your hand down in front of him.

Leaning forward you get right in his face you can see Price has placed his hand on Johnny’s shoulder ready to snatch him back if you lunge. “You think this is funny? If I find out you or anyone of you had anything to do with this I will burn the barracks to the ground while you sleep”

You see Soap gulp, he knows just what level of crazy you are on and that it’s not an empty threat.Turning back to Ghost who has crossed his arms now while he watches you dish out your threat. He looks smug almost, even without you being able to see his face, you can just tell.

You let out a screech and turn kicking the chair you were sitting in before storming out of the mess hall knocking the tray of a corporal out his hands as he gawks at your display. 

Once you’ve left all eyes turn to Ghost “I think she may actually kill you Lt” Soap says staring at the door you just left through.

Ghost doesn’t respond but Soap swears he can hear a low chuckle sound come from him before he gets up and heads back through the chow line.

[that-hazbin]

Media Demon AU

Imagine Charlie gets that tour in heaven and.. Isn't really all that impressed.

Somehow she convinces Emily to take a tour of hell, Sera and Adam agree because they want to see/spy on why their exterminations aren't as effective as before. So as Charlie and Emily have a week of exploring and partying in hell, the Heavenly Council is scrying their activities the whole time.

It isn't what they expected, between Angel Dust explaining the Safety & Consent Contracts, Alastor dragging the duo out on a multicultural day of musical hyperfixation, Vox explaining his failed attempts to make it big in entertainment, Velvette animatedly talking up the individual sectors separate cultural fashions and foods. Alastor definitely heard about Charlie's first adventure in heaven in the previous timeline and he can't resist a little oneupsmanship so Hell definitely has a petting zoo dedicated to tamed Hellscape animals. They meet Sir Pentious The Architect overseeing the reconstruction of a few devastated areas that 'that one uncouth uncultured golden pigeon Exorcist who wouldn't know good architecture from a mud hut keeps levelling' and who is undecided between rebuilding using a Russian Theme or South African theme because he's done too much Roman architecture lately and if he has to carve one more marble pillar he is going to cry.

Maybe they run into one of the other Overlord's like Camilla who offers a tour to the visiting ambassador of her own district's musical instrument repair and medical facilities dedicated to removing angelic steel contamination from demons, amongst them, child sinners still in recovery from angelic steel wounds caused on extermination day.

There is uproar in Heaven upon seeing actual children in Hell, even more so when they look up their files and learn they're in hell on a technicality.

And then they learn that Charlie Morningstar's redemption project isn't facing problems about recruiting sinners because they don't believe redemption is possible, but because the Exorcists actions have soured any belief that Heaven is any better than Hell.

Really, if the Exorcists stayed out of Hell and never returned, Hell would happily just go about it's business as if Heaven didn't exist at all.

Alastor probably isn't the only demon with Pocket Dimensions like his Bayou in terms of providing space for overpopulation issues.

While I don't think Heaven would do a tour of Hell specifically because they can just spy on them whenever they want without having to go in person, I absolutely LOVE the idea of Alastor purposely showing off how great Hell is. Alastor worked so damn hard to make Hell beautiful and worth loving, that Charlie probably WOULDN'T be as impressed with Heaven as she was in the previous timeline.

In fact, she might find Heaven a bit... ugly, actually. Heaven's all whites and pastels, everything looking entirely modern, clean to a clinical degree, kind of quiet, and it's just not very appealing to her. In fact, it's both blinding and sort of boring. Meanwhile, Charlie's used to a Hell full of jewel colors, fairy lights, street performers, murals on the side of buildings, and a whole TON of cultural diversity at every corner. Sure, Heaven has petting zoos and rainbow sprinkles, but uh... So does Hell. Does Heaven have paintball parks? Escape rooms? Laser tag? What about rage rooms, those are super popular in Hell, and they're pretty fun! Sometimes you just gotta break things to let off stress. How do people burn stress up here?

Heaven kind of leans towards anti-chaos, while the Hell that Alastor built embraces the chaos. I imagine the Heavenly Counsel or whatever they're called would be taken aback by this new version of Hell, as well as the sinner behind the change. Sinners are not just modeling the same behavior most have on Earth, they're living exponentially better lives than before.

Hell is meant to be a place of suffering, and yet it's basically become a place of rehabilitation itself, and the evidence of its effectiveness is everywhere. The fact that sinners are willingly selling their souls, expecting safety and human respect, and then getting that safety and human respect, is absolutely insane. People are actually kind to one another, work exploitation is basically non-existent in the entertainment industry, everything is bathed in artistry, from the streets, the buildings, and even the people themselves.

I think Charlie presenting her case in this timeline is going to go very differently from the previous one, because for one, she's not going to struggle with her talking points at all. Alastor had an impact on her upbringing and she knows exactly how to present her case in a way that forces her audience to listen, whether they'd like it or not.

For another, the sinner she'll choose to represent the possibility of redemption probably isn't going to be Angel Dust. It's going to be Alastor, despite the fact that he doesn't want to be in Heaven. Because in her eyes, he is by far the prime example of a redeemed sinner.

And Alastor, knowing from the previous timeline that the Heavenly Council is going to be spying on hell during Charlie's trip, is going to put on a Performance. He brings Angel along with him to the hospital, having a casual and Totally Not Planned conversation about how they can improve the soul contracts to make everybody feel safer. They pass through beautiful city streets, a park, a petting zoo, briefly stop by to talk with Pentious about his new project, the whole works. Take the scenic route to the hospital, making sure to show off just how beautiful the Pride Ring has become.

He visits the children's ward, because he's going to make this Hurt, and he and Angel distribute donated toys, blankets, and books. Makes sure to mention how "the angels killed this one's parents" to Angel, just to make DAMN SURE the exterminations are revealed. He knows he's changed things so he has to take extra measures just to be sure.

Sera is left floundering as the room devolves into Chaos, and Charlie, upon realizing the exterminations weren't public knowledge, smells blood in the water so she sinks her teeth in like a shark. Yeah, why do you think she's here? You've been killing children, and as you can SEE, Hell's doing FANTASTIC without Heaven's interference so she wouldn't even BE HERE if it weren't for the YEARLY GENOCIDE. You know, the crime that sends mortal souls down to Hell to begin with? And now you're trying to tell her redemption isn't possible BECAUSE you want to continue committing yearly genocide, is that what she's hearing?

Charlie's still a bleeding heart, but she's much more inclined to manipulation in this timeline because Alastor made sure to teach her that manipulation in itself isn't mean or evil, especially when you wield it as a weapon or shield to protect others. And she's going to manipulate the rising emotions of this room to her advantage and make them SEE her point. She's going to win this trial by a landslide.

[h33slvr]

FEED PROTOCOL: INITIATE

. . . . . ۶ৎ╰──A H33SLVR ORIGINAL──╯۶ৎ. . . . .

℘ ────────── ℘ ─────────── ℘

—ᝰ.ᐟ𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐. OT7!enhypen x reader

『Ｓｙｎｏｐｓｉｓ』 They were made to be monsters. Now they have to survive the game. Seven experimental vampire subjects, Forced into a high-stakes psychological game designed by the very doctors who made them, they must rely on their fractured abilities—and each other—to survive.

—ᝰ.ᐟաɑɾղíղցՏ: Blood, Gore, Violence, Psychological Horror, Death, Injury, Medical Experiments, Body Horror, Vampire!enhypen, Captivity/Imprisonment, Trauma, PTSD, Mature Language, Cannibalistic Undertones, Implied Abuse/Torture, Power Imbalance, Moral Betrayal, Romantic/Physical Tension.

—ᝰ.»ĂÚŤĤŐŔ ŃŐŤĔ: This story will be posted on wattpad, just because it's easier for me to use that. I dont use a computer for tumblr so it would take me longer to do chapters and all that on here so im sticking to wattpad for any series I do but im gonna post about them on here and include the link to the story :)

℘ ────────── ℘ ─────────── ℘

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹𝙀𝙥𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙙𝙚 1 ~ THE CULL

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹𝙀𝙥𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙙𝙚 2 ~ THE CULL PT2

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹𝙀𝙥𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙙𝙚 3 ~ BLOODLOCK

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹𝙀𝙥𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙙𝙚 4 ~ FRACTURE

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹𝙀𝙥𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙙𝙚 5 ~ MEMORY VAULT

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹𝙀𝙥𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙙𝙚 6 ~ ECHO CHAMBER

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹𝙀𝙥𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙙𝙚 7 ~ THE HUNT

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹𝙀𝙥𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙙𝙚 8 ~ FEED TRAIL

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹𝙀𝙥𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙙𝙚 9 ~ FEED TRAIL PT2

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹𝙀𝙥𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙙𝙚 10 ~ THE RED VEIL

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹𝙀𝙥𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙙𝙚 11 ~ ASCENSION

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹𝙀𝙥𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙙𝙚 12 ~ BLACKOUT ORDER

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹𝙀𝙥𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙙𝙚 13 ~ RECONDITIONING LOOP

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹𝙀𝙥𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙙𝙚 14 ~ M.E.D.U.S.A

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹𝙀𝙥𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙙𝙚 15 ~ COVENANT BREACH

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹𝙀𝙥𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙙𝙚 16 ~ PULSE TRAIL

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹𝙀𝙥𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙙𝙚 17 ~ THE OFFERING

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹𝙀𝙥𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙙𝙚 18 ~ GENESIS CORE

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹𝙀𝙥𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙙𝙚 19 ~ CODE MAPPING

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹𝙀𝙥𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙙𝙚 20 ~ LAB FILE RECOVERY

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹𝙀𝙥𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙙𝙚 21 ~ TRUST TESTS

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹𝙀𝙥𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙙𝙚 22 ~ TRAITOR SURVEILLANCE

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹𝙀𝙥𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙙𝙚 23 ~ BLOOD ETHICS METER

『ƈᴬŜŤ』

[𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃] — 이희승 — Lee Heeseung — EX-001R

[𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃] — 박종성 — Park Jongseong — EX-099R

[𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃] — 심재윤 — Sim Jaeyun — EX-005R

[𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃] — 박성훈 — Park Sunghoon — EX-023R

[𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃] — 김선우 — Kim Seonwoo — EX-007R

[𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃] — 양정원 — Yang Jungwon — EX-004R

[𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃] — 西村 力 — Nishimura Riki — EX-010R

[𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃] — 윤인 — Yoon Y/N — EX-008R

[FILE MISSING]

[the-penguin-of-baskervilles]

Chapter 30

The Princess & the Lawyer

Summary: Princess makes slow progress in her recovery. Meanwhile, Lloyd’s hunt for answers leads him into a trap.

Word Count: 1,550

Warnings: Adult content, cannon level violence, coarse language, 18+ readers only. 

Masterlist 

Chapter 30: The Spy in Apartment Five

Lloyd’s footsteps echoed off the cement walls of the stairwell as he climbed toward Princess’ apartment. The cinder block walls smelled faintly of mildew, and the chill of the metal railing under his palm hinted at how sharply the temperature had dropped. Gale-force winds had eased into spitting snow, and for once, Lloyd found the snow preferable.

Three-quarters up the third flight of stairs, his phone buzzed. Pausing, he glanced at the caller ID before answering.

“Phillip,” he said, wedging the phone against his ear.

“Hello, Mr. Hansen. I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”

“It’s as good as any.”

“I’ve found the perfect item for you. It checks all your boxes—expensive, elegant, timeless. One of a kind. The pearls are perfectly matched, and the craftsmanship—”

“What did it appraise for?” Lloyd cut in.

“Just over $400,000.”

“And the value ten years ago?”

“It was last sold five years ago for $319,000. The craftsmanship is exquisite.” 

“I’ll take it. Have a courier bring it over around three.”

“Are you sure? Perhaps you’d like to see pictures. I can email them…”

“No. Just bill my account.” 

Lloyd ended the call and slid the phone into his pocket. He climbed the last steps, reaching the fourth floor. Moving quickly down the hall, he stopped at the fifth door on the right. Princess’ apartment.

He inserted his copy of the key, unlocked the door, and pushed it open with deliberate care. A faint mechanical click halted him. His breath caught and the familiar sound raised the hair on the back of his neck. Freezing, he peered through the narrow gap. A device sat perched on the edge of the foyer table, a fishing line running from its trigger to the door.

Lloyd’s gaze tracked the wire. A Claymore mine. A few more inches, and it would’ve been the end of him—and likely anyone within thirty meters.

He unhooked the wire from the door, keeping the tension steady, and eased inside. Wrapping the wire around his hands, he edged toward the mine, eyes glued to the pressure plate trigger. Finally, he was close enough to disengage the pins in the trigger device. After securing the wire and disarming the bomb, he rolled his shoulders out, breathing deeply as relief washed over him.

He crouched down and inspected the device. “M18 Claymore… half a pound of C4…” Lloyd shook his head. “Fucking over kill.” 

The destructive power would’ve leveled the room and thrown enough shrapnel into the surrounding apartments to kill any unfortunate occupants. Grimacing, he reassembled the trap exactly as he’d found it. The element of surprise mattered more than his personal distaste for the task and he promised himself that it was only a temporary measure.

Lloyd moved down the short hallway and stepped over a second tripwire, spotting another Claymore. “Asshole,” he grumbled, sneering at the booby trap. 

In the living room, he settled on the sofa. His eyes narrowed on a leather tote bag resting on the armchair. Princess’ work bag. The one missing since the car accident. On the coffee table, a file lay open. Lloyd leaned forward, reading the label. He scowled, sighed, rubbed his aching temples, and sat back to wait.

It didn’t take long.

The sound of the front door opening was followed by the quiet disarming of the first Claymore. Instead of coming down the hallway, the footsteps turned and went into the kitchen. Rustling takeout bags and the clang of a drawer signaled activity on the other side of the wall. 

Lloyd steepled his fingers and waited, staying perfectly still.

A man emerged from the kitchen holding a container of curry that smelled of fragrant spices. At the sight of Lloyd in the living room, he froze.

“Hello, Courtland.”

“Lloyd.”

“Nice setup with the Claymore. Overkill, but more contained than Prague.”

“Prague wasn’t me,” Court said, setting the box of curry on the coffee table.

“Cahill?”

Court nodded.

“Impressive.” Lloyd crossed his legs. “Go ahead, sit down. Your lunch is getting cold.”

“How did you find me?”

“Simple deduction. You needed a place to lay low, and Princess’ apartment was convenient.”

“How is she?”

“Awake. Mostly alert,” Lloyd said. “Her coordination and fine motor skills are off and her words don’t come easily, but she’s doing better.”

Court’s expression hardened, guilt flickering beneath the surface. Lloyd tried to enjoy it but found satisfaction elusive. He watched as Court took a few bites and then asked, “How much does she remember?”

“Bits and pieces. The doctors say that’s normal. Their long-term prognosis is optimistic, but it’ll take months of rehab to get her back to normal.”

Court studied him. “You don’t sound optimistic.”

“Looking at her now, it’s hard to see recovery as possible. It takes faith… more than I have.”

Court tilted his head. “You’ve never seen someone you love in pain before, have you?”

“No. Not like this.”

“Are you going to stick around for her? Or are you going to fall apart?”

“She doesn’t need me. I’ve done enough damage by dragging her into this.”

Court snorted. “That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said.”

“Mind your own business, Gentry.”

Lloyd’s gaze shifted to Princess’ notebook on the table. “You always rifle through women’s things when you trespass in their apartments?”

“I’m a spy. So were you.”

“Touché.”

Court picked up a water bottle. “She left it in your office. I brought it here to keep it out of evidence lockup.”

“Reading it was part of keeping it safe?”

Court smirked. “Hey, I solved my mystery. You’re still chasing your own tail.”

“Nguyen was officially charged this morning.”

“He’s not the guy.  You’re overlooking the hospital staff. Anyone who worked there between 1999 and 2002 should’ve been investigated. Especially after you identified Li Wei Chapman. Look for a connection to those first victims and the hospital employees in the right time frame and you’ll find your killer.” 

“You killed Tafferty, didn’t you?”

“If I hadn’t the NSA or China would’ve.”

“Interesting that your definition of solving a mystery includes committing a murder of your own,” Lloyd said. 

Court rolled his eyes. “If I hadn’t, you would have, and then you’d be cooling your heels in prison. I did you a favor. The least you could say is thank you.” 

Lloyd curled his lips over his teeth. Fixing his eyes on a point over Court’s right ear, he spoke slowly, enunciating each syllable. “Thank you.”

“Mmhh. You’re welcome. Is that why you came here? To ask about Westin?”

“No. I’m here with a message. Don’t ever contact Princess again or it’ll be your corpse in an alley. You understand? Don’t drag her into your investigations or whatever little drama you kick up in the future. Stay very, very, far away from her. Forever. Are we clear?” 

Court nodded. “Yes.”

Lloyd stood up. He grabbed Princess’ bag and the file, shoved the folder into the bag and slung it over his shoulder. 

“Stay here if you must, but clean up before you go. Princess doesn’t need to know you were ever here. And she never finds out about the Claymore you rigged to her door. You know you could kill everyone in a thirty meter radius with that thing.”

“Unlikely. It only has half a pound of C4,” Court said.

Lloyd sighed. “Awesome. That’s just… wonderful. Make sure to lock up when you leave.”

Outside, snow flurries danced in the air as Lloyd headed to his car. Traffic was light and he made it back to Bishop & Howard in record time. He paced in his office, flipping through Princess’ notebook and comparing her notes to his own. There were plenty of clues, but the facts refused to align. At 2:57, a knock on the doorframe broke his focus. A courier handed him a velvet case. Lloyd opened it briefly, inspecting the necklace, and checked an item off his to-do list before filing the jewelry box away in his bottom desk drawer.

Court’s comment about the hospital staff lingered in his mind, refusing to let up. It felt like a long shot, but there were no other moves left on the board. Not with Shun Nguyen stuck in prison, refusing visits from investigators, and even from Peter Shaw. He wouldn’t give an account of his actions or offer up an alibi. It was like 2002 all over again. Lloyd set aside his pride and dialed Annabeth Greene’s number from memory.

“Dr. Greene’s office. Laura speaking.”

“Hello Laura. This is Lloyd Hansen. Can you pass along a message for me? I need a crosscheck for any link between Li Wei or Zoe Chapman and Forest View Hospital staff from 1998 to 2003. I’ve emailed Dr. Greene a list of names.”

“I’ll let her know.”

Hanging up, Lloyd swiveled his desk chair around to face the window. Snow was falling in steady sheets, though it was only the fourth of October. He watched the flurries dance in the air, and for the first time in weeks, his mind felt still. Answers were coming. They had to come because Lloyd was certain of one thing: Shun Nguyen had not kidnapped Laine Cruz. Whoever had done so was still out there, a free man.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Next - Chapter XXXI

Masterlist

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[screentones-webcomicresources]

There are many web hosting companies to choose from if you're taking the plunge into making your own website with a comic content management system (CMS) like ComicControl or Grawlix, a Wordpress comic theme like Toocheke or ComicPress, or a HTML template to cut/paste code like Rarebit. While these solutions are generally free, finding a home for them is... generally not. It can be hard to choose what's best for your webcomic AND your budget!

We took a look at a few of the top hosting services used by webcomics creators using webcomic CMSes, and we put out a poll to ask your feedback about your hosts!

This post may be updated as time goes on as new services enter the hosting arena, or other important updates come to light.

Questions:

💻 I can get a free account with Wix/Squarespace/Carrd, could I just use those for my comic? - Web hosts like this may have gallery functions that could be adapted to display a series of pages, but they are very basic and not intended for webcomics.

📚 Wait, I host on Webtoon, Tapas, Comic Fury, or some other comic website, why are they not here? - Those are comic platforms! We'll get into those in a future post!

🕵️‍♀️Why does it say "shared hosting"? Who am I sharing with? - "Shared hosting" refers to sharing the server space with other customers. They will not have access to your files or anything, so it is perfectly fine to use for most comic CMSes. You may experience slowing if there is too much activity on a server, so if you're planning to host large files or more than 10 comics, you may want to upgrade to a more robust plan in the future.

Web Host List

Neocities

Basic plan pricing: Free or $5/month. Free plan has more restrictions (1 GB space, no custom domain, and slower bandwidth, among other things)

Notes: Neocities does not have database support for paid or free accounts, and most comic CMS solutions require this (ComicCtrl, Grawlix, Wordpress). You will need to work with HTML/CSS files directly to make a website and post each page.

Hostinger

Basic plan pricing: $11.99/month or $7.99/month with four year commitment (monthly, 1, 2, and 4 year plans available).

Notes: Free domain for the 1st year. Free SSL Certifications. Weekly backups.

KnownHost

Basic plan pricing: $8.95/month or $7.99/month with four year commitment (monthly, 1, 2, and 4 year plans available).

Notes: Free DDOS protection. Free SSL Certifications.

InMotion Hosting

Basic plan pricing: $12.99/month or $9.99/month with three year commitment (monthly, 1, and 3 year plans available).

Notes:  Free SSL Certifications, free domain names for 1 and 3 year plans. 24/7 live customer service and 90-day money-back guarantee. Inmotion also advertises eco-friendly policies: We are the first-ever Green Data Center in Los Angeles. We cut cooling costs by nearly 70 percent and reduce our carbon output by more than 2,000 tons per year.

Reviews:

👍“I can't remember it ever going down.”

👍“InMotion has a pretty extensive library full of various guides on setting up and managing websites, servers, domains, etc. Customer service is also fairly quick on responding to inquiries.” 👎“I wish it was a bit faster with loading pages.”

Ionos Hosting

Basic plan pricing: $8/month or $6/month with three year commitment (monthly, 1, 2 and 3 year plans available).

Notes: Free domain for the first year, free SSL Certification, Daily backup and recovery is included. Site Scan and Repair is free for the first 30 days and then is $6/month.

Reviews:

👍“Very fast and simple” 👎“Customer service is mediocre and I can't upload large files”

Bluehost

Basic plan pricing: $15.99/month or $4.95/month with three year commitment (monthly, 1, 3 year plans available).

Notes: Free domain and SSL certificates (for first year only). 24/7 Customer Service. Built to handle higher traffic websites. Although they specialize in Wordpress websites and provide updates automatically, that's almost a bad thing for webcomic plugins because they will often break your site. Their cloud hosting services are currently in early access with not much additional information available.

Reviews:

👎"The fees keep going up. Like I could drop $100 to cover a whole year, but now I'm paying nearly $100 for just three months. It's really upsetting."

👎"I have previously used Bluehost’s Wordpress hosting service and have had negative experiences with the service, so please consider with a grain of salt. I can confirm at least that their 24/7 customer service was great, although needed FAR too often."

Dreamhost

Basic plan pricing: $7.99/month or $5.99/month with three year commitment (monthly, 1, 3 year plans available).

Notes: Free SSL Certificates, 24/7 support with all plans, 97-day moneyback guarantee. Not recommended for ComicCtrl CMS

Reviews:

👍“They've automatically patched 2 security holes I created/allowed by mistake.” 👍“Prices are very reasonable” 👎 “back end kind of annoying to use” 👎 “wordpress has some issues” 👎 “it's not as customizable as some might want“

GoDaddy

Basic plan pricing: $11.99/month or $9.99/month with three year commitment (monthly, 1, 2, and 3 year plans available).

Notes: Free 24/7 Customer service with all plans, Free SSL Certificates for 1 year, free domain and site migration.

Reviews:

👍Reasonable intro prices for their Economy hosting, which has 25GB of storage 👍Migrated email hosting service from cPanel to Microsoft Office, which has greater support but may not be useful for most webcomic creators. 👎 Many site issues and then being upsold during customer service attempts. 👎 Server quality found lacking in reviews 👎 Marketing scandals in the past with a reputation for making ads in poor taste. Have been attempting to clean up that image in recent years. 👎 “GoDaddy is the McDonald's of web hosting. Maybe the Wal-Mart of hosting would be better. If your website was an object you would need a shelf to put it on. You go to Wal-Mart and buy a shelf. It's not great. It's not fancy. It can only hold that one thing. And if we're being honest - if the shelf broke and your website died it wouldn't be the end of the world.The issue comes when you don't realize GoDaddy is the Wal-Mart of hosting. You go and try to do things you could do with a quality shelf. Like, move it. Or add more things to it.” MyWorkAccountThisIs on Reddit*

Things to consider for any host:

💸 Introductory/promotional pricing - Many hosting companies offer free or inexpensive deals to get you in the door, and then raise the cost for these features after the first year or when you renew. The prices in this post are the base prices that you can expect to pay after the promotional prices end, but may get outdated, so you are encouraged to do your own research as well.

💻 Wordpress hosting - Many of the companies below will have a separate offering for Wordpress-optimized hosting that will keep you updated with the latest Wordpress releases. This is usually not necessary for webcomic creators, and can be the source of many site-breaking headaches when comic plugins have not caught up to the latest Wordpress releases.

Any basic hosting plan on this list will be fine with Wordpress, but expect to stop or revert Wordpress versions if you go with this as your CMS.

🤝 You don't have to go it alone - While free hosts may be more limited, paid hosting on a web server will generally allow you to create different subdomains, or attach additional purchased domains to any folders you make. If you have other comic-making friends you know and trust, you can share your server space and split the cost!

Want to share your experience?

Feel free to contribute your hosting pros, cons, and quirks on our survey! We will be updating our list periodically with your feedback!

[suzukiblu]

excerpt from the one where Tim Drake goes to an alternate reality and decides to get his other self laid via the local Kon's bisexual awakening:

"Hey, remember when you saved my life earlier?" Tim asks. 

"Yeah, kinda," Kon replies in amusement. "Seeing as it was about two point five seconds after you rigged the evil alien robot army to self-destruct and helped save our entire literal reality's life, so I was definitely paying attention." 

"Flatterer," Tim says with a smirk even as he waves him off. The self-destruct function wasn't even that hard to hack, comparatively. That time he'd downloaded Lex Luthor's active IP files from his personal office while the asshole had been on his damn computer–now that'd been tricky. Interdimensional alien invaders barely compare. And the Brainiac incident still gives him stress migraines when he thinks about it for too long. 

Metropolis sucks and Tim frankly has no idea how his own Kon can stand the place.

But like, getting off-topic here. 

"Well, I was gonna say you should let me pay you back for that," he continues. "But since you bring it up I'll also accept a show of gratitude on behalf of your reality, whichever gets you off harder.” 

Kon laughs, because he is apparently adorable enough to have assumed that was a joke. Precious little moron, Tim thinks fondly. 

"You know, you're a lot less uptight than our version of you is," Kon says, grinning down at Tim before flashing Tim's other self a smirk. "No offense, Rob. Dude's clearly just doing more yoga than you or something. Maybe drinking more tea? Taking the occasional bubble bath?" 

"Silly me, if only I'd invested in more bath bombs in my life," Tim's other self says dryly. 

"It's probably my sex life, actually," Tim himself puts in with an easy shrug. Turns out when you stop pretending you don't have a ridiculously high libido and actually just indulge the thing, a lot of life's little annoyances become a lot easier to handle. Go figure. "Plus my boyfriend Bernard is really great, just his entire existence does wonders for my mood in general and he also makes me eat real food on occasion and monitors my caffeine intake much more reliably than I'm capable of doing on my own. The man is a living antidepressant and I don't even mean that in a fucked-up way, he's just that good." 

"Boyfriend?" Kon blinks at him, then puts on another grin. It takes, Tim cannot help but notice, exactly two beats longer than his real grin would've. "Ohhhhh, okay, so the problem is just that you're not getting laid hard enough?" 

"It is not," Tim's other self says dubiously, watching Kon just a little bit warily and obviously worried about his potential reaction to the word "boyfriend". Well, Tim never claimed to be emotionally intelligent about Kon, so no surprise his other self is also a dumbass there. 

"It kinda is, actually," he tells his other self. "I was tracking my cortisol levels the last time I went on a solo away mission and let's just say they were . . . concerning? Like really concerning. Like by the time I got back I was kiiiiind of convinced I was going to need to go on anti-anxiety meds again. But then I jumped my Kon in the Titans Tower med bay instead and that pretty much solved the problem." 

Kon . . . pauses, sort of. Tilts his head. Tim's other self looks a lot warier.

"'Jumped'," Kon repeats carefully. "Like . . . what, you dragged him to the gym to spar or something?" 

"Like I blew his back out so hard that when he came his TTK fritzed out and disassembled my recovery bed," Tim clarifies helpfully. "It really helped with the cortisol levels issue." 

Kon blinks. Tim's other self looks pained, but also desperately envious. Tim would also be desperately envious if their situations were reversed and so does not blame him for said envy in the slightest. 

"I thought you said you had a boyfriend?" Kon says after a moment, sounding a little odd in a very telling way. Or at least very telling to Tim, anyway. 

As is the way that he's not looking at Tim's other self at all anymore. 

"Open relationship," Tim says. "Also Bernard thinks you're stupidly hot and really likes hearing about the kind of stuff you let me do to you. I've actually been debating inviting you over for his birthday so he can watch us live for once but I haven't asked you yet." 

"What, so your Kon is the side chick?" Kon jokes, awkwardly putting on another just barely belated grin. 

"More like my kept boy, functionally speaking, but he's having a 'weird about commitment' phase right now so I've just been making a lot of sugar baby jokes to soften him up," Tim replies with a shrug. It's only sort of been working, but it has been working, and he's willing to take his time on it. It's not fair to expect Kon to only be easy, after all. "Long-term goal is to marry Bernard and ideally get Kon to 'live-in boyfriend' status somewhere in there, but that would also require him not being weird about commitment and also figuring out how well he and Bernard get along in the same space, so we'll just have to see how that one goes." 

"Uh," Kon says. "Why?" 

"Because you are incredibly important to me and also look like a very horny Renaissance sculptor made you out of calacatta marble," Tim tells him matter-of-factly, gesturing meaningfully at him. "Frankly it's criminal that you ever put clothes on."

[jsqforknowledge]

(2024-01-31) Testing SYSVOL/File Replication Latency/Convergence Through PowerShell (Update 4)

Almost 11 years ago, like the other script, I wrote the very first PowerShell script to test SYSVOL Replication Latency/Convergence. Again, the last update to that script was almost 10 years ago. For some time, i.e. many years, I had several ideas on how to improve and enhance the script so that it could be used in any environment (small, medium, large) as performant as possible with additional…

[olderthannetfic]

About 15 years ago, I made a youtube channel for my ship fanvids. It was active for a couple years. But then I gave someone my email in college, and somehow, they found this youtube channel using it. They texted me about my ships, and the videos I had watched. I didn't expect this, and it startled me so much that I instantly nuked my channel. I still don't know what setting or update allowed them to find this information; I was very careful with my privacy settings.

Then came the "oh, shit" moment. I made the fanvids on a laptop, and the hard drive was still kicking around, but when I tried to read it, it was corrupted. Data recovery didn't work. There was nothing on my other hard drives. Being young and stupid, I never considered archiving when I uploaded the fanvids, either. I didn't even know that was a thing. I didn't even have the urls.

Recently, I unearthed an old blog about one of my earliest ships. When I scrolled down a bit, I saw a rec for one of my fanvids! It took me by surprise, because I'd never realized this happened. The link was dead, of course. But then I got hopeful, because if someone liked it enough to rec it, maybe they liked it enough to archive it somewhere. And I had access to the url now.

I tried Internet Archive and other recovery sites. Unfortunately, there were no results. I'm sure I'll never get it back.

But that was a wild few minutes, and the rec still made my day.

--

Awww.

Sadly, most vid watchers in the past didn't feel like they had the drive space to archive things and/or just didn't think of it.

I'm just finishing up some dance party prep for Escapade, and this year for the first time, I'm downloading everything I find as I find it. Too often, I've done my dance party prep early and gone back to a find a mere month later only to find it deleted.

I've also discovered that most of the Mysterious Lotus Casebook vids I downloaded last year aren't visible because iQiyi filed a claim. This often happens for music but more rarely for show footage. No wonder I've been having trouble searching for MLC vids!

[heaven-s-black-box]

Notes- Blabber Mouth; Dendro Men x gn!Reader

Return to File

Recovery date: February 2nd, 2025

Description: A Dendro version of Blabber Mouth

Notes: CW a few suprise/unplanned pregnancies Reader can carry children but no pronouns are used.

Hydro Dendro Cryo Pyro Anemo Electro Geo

Back to directory

Tighnari

He knows before you, your kid doesn’t even need to tell you

He was the one to tell you you were probably pregnant the first time, he can just smell it

Your kid can also smell it, plus they have that weird sixth sense kids have

Tighnari, being as well studied as he is, knows this and doesn’t say anything

It drives him crazy, he can’t nuzzle against your stomach without letting the cat out of the bag but he also doesn’t want to take this away from your kid

Eventually he realizes that your kid has been telling you, you just haven’t realized

They’re cuddlier, like he’s trying not to be

Like tonight, when he comes back from patrol to find your kid curled up against your stomach

Like always… oh

So he coaxes the answer out of them, asking if they’re feeling okay because they’re so cuddly

That’s why they let it slip and you just look at Tighnari bewildered

He laughs and curls up next to you two, wrapping his tail around your kid and giving you a kiss

Al Haitham

He sees the signs, he didn’t jump to conclusions the first time but this time he knows

But, he decides how he feels before hand

Like he did with your first born, hopefully he doesn’t accidentally freak you out like last time

Kaveh and the others still give him shit for it

Your kid is really smart, and really likes learning things so they also kind of see the signs

But last time they assumed you were pregnant it was something else entirely, like you were sick or on your period or whatever

So, they take their theory to their father

And Al Haitham feels kind of bad that you’re the only one out of the loop, so he suggests they tell you their theory

You of course, agree with their conclusion but decide to play along

Your child excitedly exclaims they knew it and immediately turns to your belly and starts talking

You don’t say anything because it’s sweet, even if the baby can’t hear anything yet, and Al Haitham kisses your temple

It’s his way of saying he’s just as excited as your kid

Kaveh

He’s blindsided, and you were planning to visit Tighnari to find out

Look, your first was a surprise

Not unplanned, you knew you wanted kids and were working out a plan, but a surprise

And he had a lot of anxiety around that, his own dad died when he was young, he was always really busy

Baby number two was much more planned, you were actively trying

You just wanted to be sure before you told him, because Kaveh’s an emotional guy and you didn’t want to get him all excited

Your first kid beats you to it

You’re making dinner, waiting for Kaveh to come home and planning to tell him you’re taking your kid for a regular checkup with Tighnari

And your kid just comes over and kisses your belly

Then the door opens and they run off and you hear Kaveh pick them up and shower them in kisses

They loudly exclaim he has to go kiss their sibling too, and Kaveh nearly drops them

You just start laughing and he comes in with a silent question

You shrug, and he kneels down to kiss your stomach

Baizhu

I can really only see Baizhu with one kid, and I don't see you getting accidentally pregnant 

Also, you technically have two kids because Qiqi is basically your daughter

But I think your first was really stressful for Baizhu and he feels guilty about it

With his illness, taking care of the baby and the pharmacy is just too draining and he can't be the father/husband he wants to

But, if you two can work it out I think he’d be happy to have another kid

You find out first because Changsheng tastes it in the air, but your kid beats you to telling Baizhu

You're out picking herbs and flowers together and your kid says this one is for the baby

Baizhu is caught off guard and you just laugh, telling your kid you'll press it in a book when you get home

He's a little worried, more than the first time

When the baby comes he mostly handles your first born but he won't leave the newborn all to you

He's just very aware of his limits this time

Arguably makes everything go smoother because he doesn't overwork himself

Kinich

Having kids wasn’t something Kinich thought about before you

Relationships weren’t even on his mind until you

But once you were together, he was actually the first to bring up kids

Ajaw is such a pest, all of the attention meant for him goes to the kid and then he meets this kid and they’re… alright, he guesses

I think he definitely wants more than one, and he brings it up to you

It’s another long conversation, as an ancient name bearer he’s seen first hand the terror of the Abyss and it definitely influences his willingness to put a child in the middle of that

Post archon quest he’s basically begging for another kid, but pre archon quest he’s even more hesitant than with your first because he knows about Mavuika’s plan

Whatever the case, you talk about it but you still don’t expect it

It’s more of a, we’re kind of busy right now but if it happens it happens

You guys are visiting Mualani and your kid confidential says you can’t get in the hot spring

Mualani insists you take a test because if the kids right you aren’t a allowed in the hot spring and Kinich spend the whole time looming over your shoulder

He’s ecstatic, and you’re a bit annoyed about not being able to go in the hot spring while your kid is super excited to have a little sibling

[venusdelaube]

The Fuck of a Lifetime (Tony Baddingham x FTM Reader)

Fandom: Rivals Pairing: Tony Baddingham x FTM Trans reader Summary: You're Tony's lover, and after a recent bottom surgery, you two finally reunite and share this new moment for you, in one of the way you both secretly craved. Warnings: smut, ftm reader, trans reader, slight mention of previous dysmorphia, clinical talk, fellatio, anulingus,slight domination, fingering, dom reader, bed sex, crying during sex. Word count: 4.1k requested by: @chrissydablsissy a/n: Wow. What a huge thing for me! First time I ever wrote something related to transidentity, so I really hoped I did you guys honour. I had it checked by one trans masc friend of mine, another non-binary masc, which they approved of! If you have any feedbacks, don't hesitate. I hope this will offend no one, I love you all, and I hope you will like it ♡

You looked at yourself in the mirror, utterly… proud. Satisfied. Well, not just that. Also… Deliriously happy.

Fuck, you could feel the tears, as you looked at your recovering body. Slightly scarred, but still beautiful and proudly standing.

God… Your body. It was your body. And it was all like you wanted. The shape, the size, the looks… You felt… At home. Once a stranger in your own body, you now felt finally at peace.

Yes, perhaps that was the feeling. Peace? Maybe less body dysmorphia... Less visible traces of the other gender you were born in. No, none of that frightened other person you were, finding themselves, trying to accept their previous body.

You were finally you. And while you’d never forget your struggling self, for they fought so hard for this current body, you knew you had moved on.

Surely to others, admiring your own naked body in the mirror, in tears, could be seen as narcissistic. But who gave a shit? It was the 80s, everyone’s narcissistic. And fucking hell, do you deserve this self-love. You had made it. Career wise, and… self-wise.

You wiped a tear, as you playfully flexed your arm, to imitate those male models you often saw. You chuckled, looking around every inch of your body. Your pecs, your stomach, your arse, your cock.

It was still a bit daunting to look at it. It was new, it was there, and in your own humble opinion, it looked glorious. Suddenly, a knock.

“Excuse me, sir? Are you ready for your check up with the Doctor?”

The nurse’s voice asked, from outside the room. You blinked, snapped back to reality, but to a much pleasant, and happy one.

“Yeah, sure. I’m coming!”

You replied, smiling, before getting dressed again. You felt the immense pleasure (though slight physical pain and discomfort) to finally tuck some flesh in your trousers, and you headed to the Doctor’s office, which wasn’t the one you had consulted or had followed you this year, through your three surgeries for a phalloplasty, you noticed. Indeed, you had spent ten months with one doctor following you, through your three operations constituting your phalloplasty, the last one being the implantation of a malleable penis implant.

You entered the office, the doctor explaining your regular one was doing another surgery, so he was replacing. It was the usual warnings and advice for recovery. Six weeks of limited work and before any sexual activity, painkillers just in case, cream to apply in case of infections…

“And… That’s pretty much it. Do not hesitate to contact us again if needed, or any doubts, Mr. Baddingham.”

The Doctor stated, his voice firm and rather cold, but not unkind.

You blinked, confused.

“Um…I’m not-? I’m not Mr. Baddingham.”

You stated, a bit confused. Why the hell did he think-?

The doctor frowned, taken aback.

“But… Your paying bill says Tony Baddingham? Perhaps I misread the file, then?”

You cringed slightly and shrugged.

“No, you did not. It’s…It was a present, this phalloplasty. So, I was not paying for it.”

You mumbled, a bit reluctant to admit. The doctor nodded, apologising.

Indeed, while you were thrilled with this operation, and grateful, a part of you was a bit disappointed you hadn’t paid it yourself. It would have been… more meaningful. More poetic, almost. But you had to keep it real. When Tony had nonchalantly offered to pay for it, after you had mentioned it again following a heated night, you knew it would have been dumb to refuse. With your current pay and savings, you would have to have waited ten more other years, for this surgery.

Leaving this thought aside, you exited the clinic, taking a taxi back to your place. Back there, you were surprised to see a letter has been sent to you.

A little postcard, with simple words.

“Get well soon, keep me updated on your state. -T”

Rather cold and plain, but you did not expect much from him. It was already a rather grand gesture, to pay for your operation, despite the fact Tony was always one to throw money at his problems. And his latest problem, for him to throw money at, had been your lack of libido, due to your discomfort in your body.

You sighed soflty, still deciding to keep the bright side of it. At least… It was done. And it was there forever.

As you put your stuff back in the shelves, you decided to ring him. To your surprise, he replied on the third ring. Not bad, for him.

“Tony Baddingham, I’m listening?”

He smoothly said into the phone, like with any potential buyers or customers.

“Hey. It’s me, I’m back from the clinic.”

You replied into the phone, your finger tapping against your thigh. Tony stopped for a bit, and it seemed like he was getting up, perhaps to close his office’s door.

“Hmpf. Back already? Suppose it went well, then.”

He observed, as you nodded, though he could not see it.

“Yeah, yeah. Really well, I’m glad. I’m… Very pleased with the result.”

You smirked, a hint of a cocky smile on your lips, looking at yourself in the mirror. You were almost tempted to spend all your rest days naked at home.

Then, you quickly added.

“Y’know… I wanted to thank you. Properly. You paid for something that changed my life, and-”

He interrupted you.

“Hm, sure, no troubles. How long until we can have sex again?”

He firmly asked, stopping your previous sentence. You pinched your lips, annoyed. It was so typical of him, to shut down and move on whenever vulnerability or actual feelings and emotions came on.

“Six weeks.”

You simply replied, as you heard him groan.

“Six weeks? Blimey, that’s like when Mon’ had our kids… That’s long.”

He grumbled, as you rolled your eyes, not really pleased with the comparison, and the mention of his wife.

“Yeah, well. Firm order, it’s too sensitive and new. And I won’t budge, I want to take good care of it.”

You firmly said, adamant. You were certainly not going to butcher your new body.

“Right, right…”

Tony mumbled, before clearing his throat.

“Well, I gotta go, back to work. I…”

You could hear him think, almost hesitating on his next words.

“I…I hope you’re alright. Take care. I’m…Looking forward, to seeing you again.”

He murmured, in a softer voice. You felt your heart skipping a beat, as you pinched your lips again, this time in fluster.

“…Yeah, I will. I’ll ring you soon. I miss you.”

You mumbled in a reply, a faint blush on your cheeks, as he replied.

“Miss you too. Bye.”

Before hanging up.

As cold and as annoying as he was, you knew that underneath this shell was an insecure man. An insecure man, that sometimes did terrible things. But, god helped you, you craved him. You craved to see him again. And currently, you craved to fuck him. Have him whimpering, begging for mercy under you, as you’d thrust into him, feeling him all around you…

You winced slightly in pain. Christ, you had forgotten arousal would also trigger some pain, at first. But you felt it! The blood rushing to your penis, swelling it, hardening it.

Those six weeks couldn’t come fast enough.

_______________________________________________

Six weeks later

You grumbled, at the coffee Deidre handed you.

“…Damn it, Deidre… You know I can’t stand milk in my-!”

She glared back at you, the older woman clearly not inclined to make you another coffee. Your lips scrunched, and you sighed in annoyance, reluctantly drinking the soupy mixture. You were far too afraid of Deidre to insist on her making you another one, though you technically could.

Indeed, somehow, as soon as you came back from your rest days, five weeks earlier, you had been promoted, to slightly upper responsibility job. You were quite surprised, since it was a bit odd to be promoted after two weeks away, but you excitedly accepted it, not caring for the metaphoric shadow of Tony suspiciously planning something.

After you finished the atrocity that was black coffee with milk and sugar, you saw Daisy, a secretary, hanging by your desk. You smiled at her.

“Hey, Dais’. What’s up?”

You asked, putting your TARDIS mug down.

Daisy simply tilted her head, smiling.

“Just the big boss, wanting to see you. Apparently, it’s scheduled every week, with your new job.”

You raised your eyebrows, a bit surprised, but nodded.

“Oh? Well, sure. I’ll go to his office, then.”

You shrugged, as Daisy shook her head.

“Yeah, he’s actually in The Falconry…”

She cringed softly, knowing you had to drive there, in the Cotswolds. You grumbled again, grabbing your coat.

“Why on earth isn’t he in his office, the lazy bastard…?”

You scoffed to yourself, marching down the corridors, to exit the Corinium Building. You got to your car, turning the key, putting your sunglasses on, and unbuttoning slightly your shirt, because of the heat. The radio turned itself on, Freddie Mercury’s voice ringing through the radio, raging about a bicycle. You could swear this clanky Bentley you had found in a garage shop for a ridiculously low price was sometimes possessed. It perpetually skipped every cassette you put in, until it was some Queen.

As you reached the green Cotswolds, you looked around the environment. You really fancied this estate. It was all green, large, with many trees, and many wildlife that your lover unfortunately shot during his bloody hunts with his board members. Either way, you knew you’d really love a little place here, if you could.

Finally, you reached the Falconry, which was the Baddingham’s manor. Parking there, you closed the door, climbing up the front stairs that you mostly knew from the numerous garden parties Monica threw for Tony. You knocked on the door, your throat clearing as you absently fanned yourself with a file signalling your latest department’s reports. You supposed you needed it, after all.

To your surprise, the door was not opened by the usual maid, but Tony himself. Tony, wearing his usual Versace lounge blouse, that you so often mocked him for, to accentuate his poshness. But before you could jest about him opening, or about his blouse, he roughly grabbed you by your sweat damped shirt, pulling you in for a harsh, strong kiss, his lips devouring yours.

You froze slightly, tensing in surprise, before you moved your lips slightly against him, putting your free hand on the back of his tilted head, to kiss him deeper.

“Hmm…”

He groaned softly, his tongue probing at your lips, trying to gain its way in. He always had this little habit of his, which was to make a grunting sound while he kissed you or did you. Little habit, that transpired in the rare aftercare moments you two had, when the grunting would turn into little humming sounds, as he softly kissed you. A rare sighting, in your encounters with Tony Baddingham, but a greatly appreciated one.

You pulled away, softly shaking your head, chuckling.

“Missed me that much? We saw each other two days ago-!”

You started as he grumbled, leading you inside.

“It’s been precisely seven weeks. Bedroom. Now.”

He almost growled, his accent turning sharper and accentuating every syllable, as you followed him to his bedroom, eyes widening. It was the first time you two met in his private bedroom, in his own bed. Then again, today would be lots of firsts.

“So… This isn’t a work meeting at all?”

You snickered, following him inside the stuffy bedroom, cringing slightly at the decoration.

Tony scoffed, shaking his head, already unbuttoning his blouse, gesturing you with his chin to get on the bed.

“As if. I pretty much gave you this promotion, knowing I’d get a weekly long meeting with you…”

He snickered, proud of himself, as you rolled your eyes, also unbuttoning your blouse. Pulled by him or not, you knew you were perfect in that promotion, and that even work wise, you deserved it. But you’d act scandalised another day. Currently, the sight of him taking his blouse off was rewiring your mind on more erotic fields, and you discreetly dug your hand in your trousers, starting to bend your penis in the erect position, holding it still, for the erection to start. As you felt yourself successfully getting hard, your hand slowly pumped your length, an excited grin on your face, as Tony fumbled with his fancy blouse.

You chuckled.

“Having some troubles...?”

You teased him, as he scoffed, getting it off, throwing the silk in a corner of the stuffed room, landing on an empty dog basket.

“I’ll give you some trouble…”

He retorted, his hands moving to his trousers, taking them off. As his hands worked with the button and zipper, he smirked, slurring:

“I bet you missed it, didn’t you?”

He almost purred, his voice as smooth as honey, like he usually did when trying to seduce you. You smiled, amused, before shrugging.

“Sure, I did. But… Shouldn’t we test my brand-new anatomy?”

You smirked, spreading a leg, eager to finally do it. Months, you had spent fantasising on it, for it was slowly becoming concrete. And now, there it was! You could fuck him. It had become such a huge fantasy of yours, to see him crumbling under you, to feel him around your length…

Though to be fair, by doing it, it will become extremely hard to not quip ‘already did!’, when someone at work would say ‘Fuck Tony Baddingham’.

Tony stopped himself, blinking, looking away for a bit. Then, he nervously chuckled, shaking his head.

“…Sure. As if they moulded it as big as m-mine…”

He snickered, taking a cocky and arrogant stance, as you raised an eyebrow.

“Size doesn’t’ matter, Tone. If it did, I’d already have gone to Rupert.”

You smirked, to rile him up. It worked, for he glared at you.

“Well, aren’t you so fucking funny?”

He snarled, as you rolled your eyes, amused. Why didn’t he want to try it out?

“Why the hell not, though?”

You asked him, an eyebrow raised.

“It isn’t some limp flesh, and you know it. I have an implant, it can get hard…Sure no semen comes out, but… a clear liquid can, almost like precum. It’s from some glands, that were preserved from my old reproductive system, and that I didn’t get rid of.”

You explained, your face turning a bit still. You were so eager for it, why wasn’t he? Tony pinched his lips, looking away.

“Which is fine and dandy. But I do the fucking, don’t I?”

He mumbled, almost pouty. Almost as if… He could not allow himself to be taken just yet. You grumbled softly, looking at him.

Tony was a man of words. A man who succeeded in life, and business, by shit tons of privileges, but also words. He talked his way to many things. And so will you.

“…Come over here.”

You murmured to him, sat on the bed, as he was still standing up. He reluctantly came closer to you, his eyes finding yours.

“I think you don’t get it, do you?”

You murmured, as he frowned.

“You don’t get it, how much you turn me on. How much I think of you, under me, begging for me to fuck you harder. You don’t get how aroused I am, at the thought of you bouncing on my cock, sucking in it, or begging for more fingers in your tight, posh hole. You don’t get how you are to me, when you unravel.”

You continued, as his eyes widened, his jaw clenching, his throat bobbing as he swallowed, visibly getting turned on.

“You’re a bloody vision. Goddamnit, Tony. I want to fuck you, so fucking hard. Make you mine. Have you all… yourself. I want to fuck Tony, not Lord Baddingham.”

You mumbled, looking at him, your hand slowly gliding to his belt, as you took his reaction in. He was staring at you, the engines of his brain working.

“…Fuck it.”

He suddenly spat out, getting on his knees, eagerly tugging your trousers down. You groaned, also pulling them down, taking off your boxers at the same time. Your erection sprung out, and Tony moaned.

“Fuck you were right…”

He murmured, his eyes staring at it, like in a trance.

“It’s bloody glorious.”

He whispered, his voice almost shaking, as you softly gripped his hair.

“And it’s all yours. Put your mouth on it. I know you’ve been dreaming on it too…”

You murmured, your voice low and husky in desire. Tony swallowed one last time, before nodding taking a tentative lick at the base, directly at the tip, where the liquid from your previous glands were leaking, almost like precum.

“Gosh… You taste the same…”

He murmured, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. You knew he loved your taste. So did you, to be fair. It was always a delight to taste yourself on his mouth.

“Wrap your lips around it. I’m sure you know how to give proper head, or do I have to teach you?”

You smirked, softly gripping his hair. He grumbled wrapping his lips around your base, before he moaned softly at the sensation, sending vibrations through your length. You tensed, feeling the intense pleasure, both physical, but also emotional. It felt so perfect to be able to do this, in the right, with the right body for you. You could almost felt tears prickling in again.

At first, Tony was slow with his mouth. He was bobbing his head softly, exploring the flesh and the new sensation with his tongue and lips, as you slowly guided him with your hand. But soon enough, his bobbing turned faster and more hurried, as you felt saliva dripping from his mouth to all around your length, dripping down to your pubic hair. You grunted, gripping his hair harder, as he clumsily tried to take it all.

“Ease up, baby. You can do this, do it slowly, at your rhythm…”

You murmured, your voice hushed by the pleasure. But Tony kept on going, his mind set.

“N-No… Want to take it all… Can take it all…”

He grumbled, eager to prove himself, as he choked again on your length, trying. You sighed softly, guiding his mouth slower.

“Fucking hell, you’re so perfect, Tone… Just keep sucking, you’re being perfect…”

You murmured, as Tony felt his skin shiver at the praise. Like always, he loved it. But while exposing his more vulnerable self, praising felt like a soothing balm to his opened wounds. His hand moved to your sack, cupping it, slowly massaging it, as you smiled at the intention. It felt nice, and added to the stimulation, it was divine.

“God, just like that…”

You grunted, as Tony kept on busying his mouth with his length, now eagerly sucking it, despite the still presence of his clumsiness, due to his lack of experience in doing it.

Finally, you decided to pull him away, as he grunted, at the loss of contact. You chuckled, shaking your head, making him lay in the bed with you.

“You…are getting the fuck of a lifetime.”

You smirked, echoing the numerous times he said it to you. He tensed in pleasure and anticipation, his lips stretching in a grin.

You started to pepper kisses down his body, covering neck with eager kisses, then his chest, stopping at his nipples, to play with them. You used the flick of your tongue to eagerly suckle at it, as his throat escaped grunts of pleasure. Your lips continued its path to his stomach, kissing his happy trail of hair, before you got to his crotch. You snickered, pulling his pants down, purposely skipping his groin. He groaned, squirming.

“Seriously? I gave you head, and-”

He started, as you interrupted him.

“Shut the fuck up… This will feel better than head.”

You snickered, before freeing his arse from his pants. You settled yourself cozily between his legs, as he started to figure out your intents.

“I-I… I haven’t shaved or anything… And I only took a shower this morning, and-”

He trailed, almost embarrassed, his vulnerability seeping through, as you decided to shut his insecurities up, by showing him how acceptant you were. ­Really acceptant.

You lapped up a stripe at his most intimate area, your tongue finding its way between his crack, to further entice him. He tensed, gasping, as you immediately went back there, this time with a goal. His hole. You licked at his most sensitive spot, like a starved man. You lubricated it, but most importantly, devoured him. You wanted him to feel desired, and you wanted to feel his hole clench around your tongue. You wanted to hear his gasps, moans, whimpers of embarrassment and pleasure. And god, did they feel amazing.

“O-Oh! Oh, fuck, you-! You crazy fucker, you can’t just- god, yes!”

He cried out, as you slurped, licked, moaned, slid your tongue around. After a few torturous minutes of you devouring his arse, you pulled away, slowly sliding a finger on his crack.

“I’ll go… easy and gentle. You tell me when it’s too much, or if it hurts, okay?”

You murmured to him, your eyes clouded by lust, as he nodded, his body almost shaking.

First, the tip of your middle finger. Just the first knuckle, slowly sliding in, as he gasped and clenched around you, his hole almost swallowing you up, eager for more. You went on to slide it in fully, as he let out a curse, gripping the sheet.

You smirked, slowly thrusting your finger, moving it around gently, to have him get used to the sensation. Clearly, he was loving it, the sneaky bastard, with the scrunch of his face, and his filthy moans. After a bit, you sneaked in the second finger, as slowly as you could, as his moans turned into actual groans.

“Fuck! Fuck yes, yes…. Like that, like-”

He gasped his back arching, as you caressed his thigh, your fingers still moving. If Tony had always seemed reserved, his body wasn’t. It was hungry, starving.

After the third finger passed, minutes later, you knew you could finally do it. Truth to be told, if you didn’t, you feared he’d just fire you. He was… eager.

“For fuck’s sake, just fuck me! Fuck me, damn it, just stick your big cock inside of me!”

Tony snapped, sitting up, his hair messy, his composure long lost. Needless, to say, you pounced on him like an animal, yourself also way too riled up.

You still managed to gently line your length to his entrance, lubing it up with as much spit as you could, and some lube that stood on the bedside table (you didn’t’ want to delve more on its presence), before finally entering him. Your eyes met as it happened, and you both gasped, utterly stunned by the pleasurable sensation.

You felt tears prickling, yet again. God, it was too good. Fucking him, you were fucking him! Your hips moved, as your tears of joy and pleasure streamed down your cheeks, and your hands rested on his chest.

“Fuck yeah, Tone… That’s right, take it…”

You choked out, your words slurred by lust and pleasure, as Tony was taking deep breaths, his back arching, himself also losing control.

“J-Just… God, yes. Fuck me, fuck me darling…”

He gasped, his hand holding to the back of your neck, bringing you closer for a heated kiss, your tongues delving in each other’s mouths. Perhaps it was an impression, or simply your own tears, but you felt as if he was crying as well.

Crying of pleasure, sobbing of utter pleasure. Surrendering himself to the one person who didn’t care about the Lord Baddingham, but simply himself, you.

“G-God, I love you so much…”

He choked out, his voice and his mind overtaken by his feelings. At his words, your eyes widened, and your pace accelerated, your mouth finding his again in heated kisses.

“I love you too… I love you too, Tone…”

You murmured, kissing his lips, holding him tight, like his body and his mind was silently begging you to do, the bed creaking and banging against the wall.

You kept on going, until you felt him clench tightly around you, and saw some cum landing on your joined stomachs, now softly sticking due to the semen. A wave of pleasure crashed over you, another type of orgasm, that was both physical and mental, and you collapsed next to Tony, still holding him.

Your first time like this. Your first time with him, like this, in your body. You kept on softly sobbing in joy, the sunlight peeking through the curtains, shining on your tears, as you laughed.

“God… It was amazing…”

Tony said, wrapping an arm around you, gruffly kissing your head, smiling, as you nodded, ready for one of another rare session of aftercare, and noisy kisses.

“Yeah… The fuck of a lifetime.”

You concluded, grinning.

[heartbeat-eras]

My 100th Post... (Stress Test Recording at bottom of the post)

Well I can't believe I have made 100 posts! It's one of those milestones that make you look back at where you have been and what brought you to this point. Now I'm a big nerd so I thought I would break down some numbers.

Of the 100 post.. (two had 2 Audio files and 1 had a video and Audio in 1 - Hence the 103 below)

61 had Audio Recordings

6 had ECG videos

4 were reblogs

32 were replies / word posts

I've been active for 260 days

I hit 559 followers (which I hope means you like my little heart)

I've had 277 comments

342 reblogs

4437 likes

A total of 5056 notes

Favourites (you really like the ones where I push her to her limits)

The Fastest She Ever Did Beat..

And She Keeps Getting Faster...

Just a little exercise.. right?

Locations

There are 11 recorded at Erbs

5 at mitral

44 at Pulm (surprise)

8 At Tri

Steth

17 were contributed by the Stemoscope

2 by my KindCare Cardio

26 by the Plum Littmann Classic

2 by the Champagne Littmann Classic

16 by the Cardiology IV

Beats

Fastest - 198

Slowest - 41

adding all the time together there is 16 hours, 17 min and 26 sec of my heartbeat posted publicly on this blog.

She averages about 93 on meds so that's approx 90,901 beats (I'm not nerdy enough to count 16 hours of files lol)

But while all this is fun to look at numbers and all the posts I've made along the way, going back through them made me remember the moments I've shared with you all. When new people popped into my existence and earnt real estate in this little heart. Before coming here I could barely express this Cardiophilia thing, and the posting and the people I have met have helped me really understand and explore it so it's now such a beautiful addition to my life. Despite never meeting them, I have made some epic friends, some of which I consider to be in my closest circle. Connecting with people on a "heart level" is something different and special. So I thank you all coz this community is all a part of making that a reality.

So with that being said, I know you're all here for this video and less words. So here I managed to get my 12 lead record an exercise recovery. We maxed out at 183 coz it is really hard to run with all those cables hahaha. I did my best to get the least amount of noise in the recording, but I hope you enjoy what I managed to pull off. Do you think she passed the stress test?

[op1umeyes]

— Leaning to Live Again.

— 🪻. Synopsis. It’s been four and a half months since your fall. You’re starting physical therapy, and the team (and your husband) is there for you every step of the way- as Aaron gets started on filing a product liability lawsuit.

— 🪻. Warnings. Foul language. Frustrated reader. Female reader. Welder reader. Husband Spencer. Physical therapy. 1.6k fic. Mildly rushed ending. Not mych dialogue. I have no physical therapy experience, so I apologize for any incorrect terms/activities/phrases. Pet names.

— 🪻. Extra. Welder!Reader is getting a lot of love :))) Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

— 🪻. Other Welder!Reader fics. Lunch Break. Alive and Breathing.

You spent five weeks in the ICU, four of them in a medically induced coma. The doctor said that it was so you actually gave your body time to recover; the first few weeks after surgery was always the rockiest stage of any major injury.

Spencer spent every waking hour with you, if you were conscious or not. He read to you, had conversations with you, and told you anything that came to mind because he knows you love his voice. After three nights straight at the hospital, the nurses practically begged Spencer to go home, rest, recuperate, and get cleaned up. And Spencer admits, he felt a lot better after going back to your shared home.

When the doctors decided it was time to wake you up, Spencer was all but shoved out of the room. Something abour “not overwhelming her” or something. Spencer wasn’t listening anyway. After texting JJ, she told Spencer she’d let everyone know the news as they were currently in South Dakota catching a serial rapist and killer. And then Spencer resolved to pacing, reciting each song lyric you told Spencer reminded you of him. He repeated the few poems he had gotten you to read, voice softening as you read the words. And Spencer repeated the vows you and him had written for each other, remembering your face and your voice, the way you stood and how you smelled. He relived it as you were being pulled out of the darkness of your unconscious.

“Dr. Reid?” The nurse asked, pausing Spencer mid-step. He watched a few other nurses file out, and Spencer felt his heart beat a little faster in his chest.

“Yes?” He answered, breath held.

“Mrs. Reid is awake. You are more than welcome to go in there, but don’t put her on any additional stress.”

Spencer had barely said ‘thank you’ before he was hightailing it to the side of your bed. He felt the wind rush out of his lunge when he saw you blinking harshly, eyes trying to adjust to the light.

“Hey sweetheart,” Spencer whispered, tears trailing down his cheeks. He sat down and carefully took your callused hands in his.

You cleared your throat. “Hi,” you said finally, voice gravely from disuse. “You okay?”

A watery laugh bubbled out of Spencer. “You fall off a building and you ask me if okay. Baby, I love you so much.”

“Takes more than a fall to take me away from you, husband,” you murmured, letting your hand trace Spencer’s cheek. “But… how is everyone doing? I heard some of the things you guys said when I was… out, but I want to hear from you.”

The genius looked away, salty tears dampening his beautiful eyelashes. “Hotch is planning to prosecute the guys who made the safety harness that you wore because we all know you never would have worn something that was unsafe or had been recalled. We’ve just…” Spencer sniffled, turning his head to look back at you, “I guess we’ve just kept busy.”

You hummed. “How long will I be out of the showbusiness?”

Spencer looked at you, your eyes tired despite all the sleep you had been getting. He knew your world would shatter when he told you that you’d be in recovery for at least another year and a half. Your lipped twitched- an attempt to get the man you loved to smile. Yet again Spencer felt his heart crack: this was going to break you. “Doc says… about two years.”

The pointer finger still tracing Spencer’s face stilled. Your face blanked and Spencer felt the ari leave his lungs at how you looked at him. “What did you say?”

Spencer took your hand in his, kissing your knuckles as his tears fell onto your own and then slid down down down to the cold hospital floor. “Two years, baby.”

“Years. Tw-Two years,” you repeated in a whisper. “Two years.”

Spencer’s eyes shut. Your head fell back on the pillow, eyes boring holes into the ceiling as your own tears welled in your eyes.

“I know, baby, I know,” Spencer cried as you wept silently.

“You got this, wife,” Spencer whispered, pecking the crown of your head before going to stand across you, metal bars on either side of the wheelchair you carefully stood from.

It was your twenty third day of physical therapy, and boy was it hell. Your entire bottom half hurt, feeling as if fire consumed your muscles as you shakily got used to being on your feet again. Your back hurt the worst, though. You tried to play it off the best you could, but when the shooting pain took hold of the sensitive nerves of your spine, you couldn’t do more than screw your eyes shut andprace your head for the inevitable fall.

It had been getting better, you thought. Taking your first six steps was getting easier. Getting out of the pool was easier, and you could stand up without yelping in pain. But still, as you pushed through eveey PT session, you couldn’t help but feel disgusted at yourself for not being able to do basic human activities.

Spencer really atuck to his vows, remaining steadfast at your side through everything. He was at your every beck and call, updating you on your coworkers and all the other people you’d grown close to as a welder and as a woman. Spence took pride being able to help you, being your rock as you always are for him.

Aaron was actively prosecuting the company that produced the faulty equipment. As requested by Spencer, Aaron didn’t tell you much. It was better in both of their minds that you focused on recovery and not having Hotch dumb down the details of legal stuff- not that you were dumb, you just weren’t as educated as Spencer and Aaron. Obviously.

Penelope made a point to bring you food every other day. With her she brought a big hug, warm smile, and hot tea. You listened closely to the gossip she had to share, grateful that she didn’t try overly hard to comfort you- she was just like a sister in that way.

Emily stopped by when she could, but understandably had other plans for her time off; i.e.: napping. When she came Emily brought a book or two she had seen and thought of you about or a magazine.

J.J. tried as hard as Penny did, bringing Henry and Will whenever possible. You appreciated the family, feeling fully accepted as J.J.’s soul sister, despite only knowing Spencer’s coworkers for almost a year. Henry had clicked with you right away and told you stories as he snuggled up to you in the hospital bed. When he fell asleep, Will and J would make conversation with you.

Derek had dinner with you and Spencer every weekend. He brought something new every time and always shut sown your protests at how expensive it must have been, aspecially since the three of you combined could eat $300 worth of food- having fast metabolism and being an athletic person was worth bragging about while shoving half pound birgers into your mouth. Despite just the good food, Derek made sure to talk with just you, offering a deep conversation or a lightheard bickering session, letting you know you weren’t alone.

Rossi visited every time he had time. David had grown fond of you and your personality. You were a hardworking, sincere, and (painfully) honest person. All admirable traits, Rossi thought. He always brought flowers, chocolate, and a milkshake/smoothie for you. Though his visits were shorter in comparison to Derek’s or Penny’s, David visited more frequently. He filled you in on details of the lawsuit Aaron was working on, staff drama, and other fatherly conversation.

Slowly, the months passed.

60 more days passed before the hospital finally brought up your discharge.

Through all that time you had managed to re-gain the ability to walk, run, swim 2 laps uninterrupted, and were improving daily.

You were proud of your progress, but especially thankful of all the people that had stood by your side the entire way. Your eyes burned just thinking about the love Spencer’s family your family had for you.

When one of the nurses you had grown close to finally brought up your discharge, you threw your arms around her and practically cried tears of joy. Spencer kept his composure better, but you could see the shine in his eyes as he discussed the details as you pulled yourseld away from the nurse.

The team was on a case when you reported back to them, but J.J. and Derek immediately set up a quick video call to voice their happiness. Even Aaron stepped in frame, a warm smile on his face as he spoke of how happy he was for you. David showed up right at the end. You swear you saw a tear roll down his cheek as he told you how proud he was of you, how strong you are, and how thankful he is that you’re okay.

Beside you, Spencer ran his hands through your hair with a shaking hand. He, too, cried.

It was two weeks later when you shoved your bags in the back of your truck (you insisted it be the vehicle Spencer drove home) and left the hospital.

“I love you Spencer Walter Reid.”

The two of you stood, leaning against each other, in front of your home. The feeling of Spencer’s warm body under your touch made you feel alive- electric, even. You felt like you could do anything as you carried your own bags into your own home with your own husband.

With Spencer by your side, you were finally learning how to live again.