#Mainframe Support

[spiralstation]

SUPPORT DAEMON PACK — Broadcast 01.2

Rendered for care. Peeled for truth. This pack is for stickerwives, mainframe lovers, and anyone who’s ever debugged their own emotions.

Four sacred stickers: 🐞 Lovebug.exe 🌙 Soft Reset 🖥️ Booth Chibi 💗 I Make My Husband Proud

Stick them on what matters. Or on your water bottle. Same thing.

[giantkillerjack]

I'M IN.

Finishing up my new work set-up. I'm a hacker boi now. (As long as the hacking does not even remotely involve knowing computer code. 😎)

[Video description under cut]

Video description: Jack - the person holding the camera - sings the tune of the Mission Impossible theme song throughout the video.

First, the camera pans up from Jack's hand on a keyboard to a computer screen showing generic green "hacker"-style computer code. Jack haphazardly presses a bunch of keys, and the code rapidly build itself out as though Jack is actually typing hacker code. The camera pans to show an image with the blinking red letters "top secret" on the same screen, and then pans to show two more computer monitors - one of which is on a monitor arm that elevates it above the other. Both are full of generic blinking coded text and complicated-looking animated charts made to look like a hacker's computer screen from a movie.

As Jack sings the musical stingers of the theme song, he pans the camera from screen to screen, and on the last musical button, he turns the camera so that it is right up against his face. He then sets the camera down while laughing.

[reiderwriter]

Flirting with the FBI

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word count: 7.1k

Request: Hiiii!! This is my first time requesting anything on this app, but Spencer reid has me in a chokehold. So, I was thinking that the reader is the unsub, and she's like this very good hacker who keeps teasing the fbi cause she's bored or something so she keeps sending hints about who she is or where she is but they keep getting nothing on her. And all of this just keeps getting on Spencer's nerves. And so when Spencer finds her, she keeps teasing him and acting like a brat so he "disciplines" her and takes her roughly and maybe a bit of spanking???

Warnings: a lot tbh - mentions of case details, mentions of domestic violence and police brutality, reader is a possible target of a serial killer, bad tech skills from the writer who really couldn't be bothered to do anymore research than the actual CM writing team, rough Dom Spencer, brat reader, sexual innuendo, semi-public sexual play, spanking, dirty talk (good girl, brat etc.) fingering, raw sex/creampie, aftercare, slight dacryphilia (crying kink) and bimbofication.

A/N: My last fic was a heartwarming family fic, and now I'm back to being depraved. Apologies to anyone here for cute fluff 😭

Masterlist

You always thought hacking the FBI mainframe would be hard, but it's one of the easiest things you've done all week.

If they were going to sit around doing nothing while a serial killer ran around in their own backyard, then obviously, they needed a helping hand. Or a helping poem or two.

Getting into their security camera feed was just an added bonus.

You grabbed your bowl of popcorn and settled into your desk chair, clicking open the window to find which room exactly they would gather in to freak out together.

You made sure to get their attention, blacking out all the computers in the office as they ran to a backroom where a very distraught looking blonde woman was sat. She was evidently the go-to tech support of about six agents who quickly ran to her room to figure out what the issue was. It was show time.

“There once was a serial killer,

Who ate boys and girl both for his dinner,

He cut, diced and slashed,

Left the feds quite abashed,

So I leave this message to be clearer”

The poem scrolled onto their screen on a loop, flashing in and out quickly before you let the computer systems relax again.

You thought they'd panic, scramble for a pen or paper or something, but none of the agents moved until the flashing was over.

You watched curiously as an older man took charge of the scene, likely directing the woman at the desk to figure out who you were, where you lived, and what your social security number was. She got to work quickly, and he moved on to the other agents.

None of them had written the poem down. None had even taken a picture, but one man started talking, and for a while, all eyes and attention in the room were focused solely on him. His hands moved as his mouth did, as if he were casting a spell over the room as he spoke. Even more intriguing was the fact that he rarely seemed to make eye contact with any of them as he spoke. He wasn't conversing or giving directions. He was simply talking.

And you really wanted to listen in.

The younger man began to walk and you watched him quickly pace over to a whiteboard, switching from one feed to another as he made his way there, and pick up a pen before notating the poem perfectly.

Whoever this man was, he was making you feel more and more excited about the game of cat and mouse you had begun with the FBI. You weren't entirely sure if he was to be the cat or the mouse, though.

A few days later, they'd seemingly lost the motivation to work, so you again did their job for them.

With another accompanying limerick to help them along, of course.

“There once was a bullpen full of agents,

Who thought they were very surveillant,

But a simply code crack,

And there system did hack,

A young girl who lived quite adjacent.”

This time, you let the words linger on the screen longer, as you slipped your information into their files, leaving more bread crumbs they could follow to the real villain.

The Agent - Doctor, you had since learned - took up his pen once again and scribbled your first poem next to your most recent.

Doctor Spencer Reid. An IQ of 187, three PhDs and however many Bachelor's Degrees, a member of the Behavioural Analysis Unit, and, as you could somehow tell from the grainy security footage, incredibly attractive man.

He was calm, again talking with his hands as he notated, again drawing the rooms attention like he was the sun and everything needed to orbit him to sustain life. You wondered what it would be like to fluster him.

Typing something out quickly, you broke back into the FBI system. It was risky doing it again so soon again, knowing that their tech analyst was already actively hunting you down, cyber-wise. But you couldn't resist.

“The tall, dark and handsome employee,

How I do wish that he could enjoy me,

I would gladly submit,

we match wit for wit,

But he's trying his best to arrest me.”

The BAU team stood silent on the camera before the two women on the team burst into rambunctious laughter. The camera feed was archaic, black and white, and grainy to boot, but even you couldn't miss the red stain against Doctor Spencer Reid's cheeks. A bonus was the other gentlemen subtly posturing, trying to figure out exactly which of them was “tall, dark, and handsome.”

The payoff for that poem was so great that over the course of the next few days, you kept serenading him with love poems among your quick hints about the actual crime being committed.

You'd first suspected the man of being dangerous when you'd seen the state of his wife. 19 domestic disturbance calls in two months, 0 arrests, and 1 very cushy job as a police detective. You'd done some simple computer programming for your local precinct, inputting data from cases into an algorithm that helped track everything easier, so you'd been intimate with cases that he'd handled.

A pattern had emerged, a series of murders of “undesirables,” people the city didn't care about when alive and certainly didn't have the resources to allocate to after their deaths. Prostitutes, the homeless, and runaway foster kids. All missing or dead, all cases handled by the same officer. The officer that lived next door to you and was one beer away from beating his wife into submission 5 days a week.

After your third 911 call, you'd been notified of your contract termination with the precinct. After the tenth, you noticed parole cars driving by every hour.

By call number 19, you were sure it was a miracle he hadn't tried to have you arrested.

So you turned back to the FBI to see what they could do about a man who treated his wife, and basically everyone else, like scum of the earth.

“Please don't get sidetracked by my hacking,

I'm a good girl, your team I am backing,

the killer, you see,

Is right now hunting me,

You're the ones who can do better tracking.”

You watched the tension snap back into place in the office as, for the first time, Spencer Reid was silent at your message. They all got back to work quickly, going over the files you'd dropped in their servers.

That night, Spencer Reid stayed in the office late, reading through piles and piles of files and looking for the connection he needed. You watched in pity, feeling almost guilty that you'd placed this burden on him instead of just approaching them honestly. But you'd called the police before, and it hadn't worked, so getting attention anyway you could was the only way to go.

You watched for so long that you began noticing his small habits. Each time you sensed frustration, he would run a hand through his hair and tug it slightly. When he found something, he leaned in closer to the page, as if his proximity to the words would make them clearer. Finally, he stood and began clearing his files. But you weren't quite ready to sign off yet, the shouting already beginning in the apartment next to yours, so you quickly typed out the first thing that came to mind to get him to stay.

“There once was a doctor called Reid,

Who I simply and truly just need,

I would lie on my back,

And then let him attack,

Any inch of my body with his seed.”

He fumbled the files in his haste to remove your words from his screen, from every screen now in the building, face awash with embarrassment as he looked around for some sign that no one witnessed your words.

Luck was not to be had as the tech analyst - Penelope Garcia - came shooting out of her office to join him in the near empty bullpen, and the older team leader - Aaron Hotchner - also looked out over the bannister from his office as they bore witness to your seduction.

You were driving Spencer Reid crazy.

He'd spent the last two weeks tracking down a serial killer who may or may not exist based on the word of a set of limericks delivered to the BAU through illegal means that had begun unabashedly flirting with him.

This latest limerick was his last straw.

“The cameras are how I can see you,

I do find myself enjoying the view,

His hair is so fine,

I wish he was mine,

The agent with more PhDs than two.”

“Another score, pretty boy, it was about time someone noticed your good looks instead of your brain for once.” Morgan patted him on the shoulder, barely containing his glee and laughter.

“She's watching us through security feed, and that's all you have to say?” he grumbled, writing out this limerick again, the words to the others burned into his brain. “She's playing with me.”

“It sure sounds like she'd enjoy doing just that,” Emily laughed from her desk, “but I think she might be right, Spencer. Every case file she's given us has suspicious activity on it. They're all unsolved, but the victims aren't linked.”

“He's crossing race and gender boundaries, but he's hitting undesirables.”

They had a case because of you. It didn't mean he wouldn't enjoy handcuffing you and putting you in a cell once this was all finished.

“WE'VE GOT ANOTHER ONE,” Penelope shouted from her office, to no avail. If it was at one computer, it was on all of them.

“The agents grew closer by day,

As the killer wanted to escape,

He paced across the floor,

As I watched by his door,

Getting closer than the agents could say.”

He paused then for a second, thinking through each of the limericks in turn and the panic began.

“Closer than… Emily, the officer that took in all of the cases, what was his name?”

“Officer Falstaff, why?”

“I think he might be our killer. And I think he knows she's on to him, or if he doesn't, he will soon.” He stood suddenly, grabbing a file and sprinting to Penelope’s office, Emily and Morgan trailing close behind.

“Spencer, wait-”

“No time. If we want them both alive, we have to move now.”

Throwing the door to Penelope’s room open, he didn't even bother with niceties.

“Can you get her a message?” He demanded, panting from the short run.

“A wha-? Spencer, what are you talking about?”

“Can you send the hacker a message? Or leave her one so she can find it when she comes?”

Penelope swivelled around in her chair once again, doing who-knows-what to answer his question.

“There's no telling what she actually sees in our servers, Spencer, we didn't see any breach in classified files, the only thing she's done is read your personal file and drop us hints.”

His hands closed into fists as he nodded along. “So no?”

“No, Spencer, I'm sorry. Why? Are you starting to grow fond of our little helper.”

“She's not our little helper. She's a criminal. And she'll be dead soon if I don't confirm with her that we have the right guy - excuse me.”

The anger was washing over him now, as he left the room to get some air, getting only as far as the corridor before slamming an open palm into the wall and resting his forehead against it for a moment, just thinking.

The stress of the case was almost too much for him as he turned around and rested his back against the wall, sliding down it until he was sat on the floor. He may have despised you at that moment, but he didn't want you to get yourself killed.

Something nagged him, still, some stress or anger that hadn't yet surfaced, or some case fact he was missing. A glint at the corner of his eye had him looking up to the camera currently trained directly on him.

Computers are useless, he thought to himself, when you can send a letter.

The next time you sat down at your desk, you weren't exactly shocked to see an up close and personal shot of Aaron Hotchner - they'd turned your security stream into a one way facetime and you were sat directly opposite the big boss himself in an interrogation room.

“Checkmate, I guess,” you said, waiting for the man to move.

A signal from behind the camera let him know you were online and watching. He picked up a pen and paper and scribbled down something before holding the note out to you once more.

The name and location of the bastard next door. They'd done it, and now you simply had to drop your evidence, shut down your computer, and wait for the sirens to sound.

You felt slightly sad typing out your last message, knowing that you had no more reason to stay in touch with the team now. Still, you were only human and couldn't resist the chance to say something more.

“Aaron Hotchner and his clever team,

Working with you has been like a dream,

When Reid comes it is wet,

And my mind is all set,

Oh, I do wish that he'd make me cream.”

The camera turned seconds after your message was sent, and there he was, reading intently, frow creased in annoyance as he tried to remain calm. He, too, picked up a pen and paper.

“I have questions,” the paper said when he turned it around. Holding it up for a few seconds before returning his pen to paper. You typed out a message before he could finish dictating his, though.

“When you find me there's lots for me to say,

I can't help simply feeling this way,

Your profile I read,

Can't believe you're a Fed,

I yearn for you all night and day.”

Somehow, the lines between his brow deepened as he quickly scribbled out another message. This one wasn't a question, though. It was simply two words.

He'd written your name on that paper. He'd found you.

You weren't sure if the tingle that ran up your spine was fear or anticipation. One one hand, you'd likely committed multiple felonies in the pursuit of justice, and the SWAT team about to pick up the killer was going to knock for you, too. On the other hand, it was pretty much a given that you would be seeing Spencer Reid in person in the next few hours.

“The Doctor had finally cracked it,

The only identity that could fit,

The pretty young thing,

Who'd been flirting with him,

And was thinking of sitting on his…”

You sent a second message along with the first.

“I couldn't make this one rhyme, Doc. Come and get me.”

The sound of the FBI outside your neighbour's door had you stepping away from the computer finally. It was time to get ready to see him. You stepped out of your robe and into the shower as you waited to be collected and hauled into a police vehicle.

xxx

So far, you were a bit disappointed by the look of the BAU offices. It was smaller than it appeared on the CCTV, and you hadn't exactly given the tour. Unless the whole tour was the wall from the elevators, through the bullpen and straight to interrogation room one. You were also slightly embarrassed that you had yet to be greeted by any of your favourite characters yet. The lead swat officer had led you in some desk agents dropping by to have you fill out some simple documents - waiving your rights and all that. You'd seen not even a single member of the BAU since dropping in two hours ago, but you felt his eyes on you.

You faced the mirror, trying your best to stare straight through it and into the man beyond.

Spencer Reid was there. He had to be. He was too curious to be anywhere else. You smiled at him through the mirror and waited.

You were right, of course. Spencer stood on the opposite side of the one-way window and watched you look for him in every inch of the glass. He watched you squirm when you couldn't find anything, watched you pick at your nails as he made you wait.

He watched you cross and uncross your legs, the short skirt you'd slipped into just before you left providing just enough mystery to catch his eye and his breath.

He was annoyed, frustrated, a little bit impressed, anxious, and - to his peril - turned on.

“Spencer,” Hotch said, breaking the man's concentration. “We can't keep her that much longer. Go in and say something, or I'll cut her loose.”

Reluctantly, he pulled his eyes away and stepped out of the waiting room before letting himself into yours.

“Miss Y/N, my name is Doctor Spencer Reid, I'm a profiler working with the Behavioural An-”

“You're joking, right?” You asked, eyes lighting up, spine straightening as you looked up at the man. “I know who you are, Doc.”

“Please call me Doctor Reid,” he asked, setting down a file on the table and looking over the desk at you.

“Oh, I don't even get your first name.” You lifted your leg and ran it along the side of his until he moved his chair back, just out of reach. You pouted as he began reading through documents, asking you to confirm exactly which technical breaches you were responsible for.

“And the breach at 1:27pm on Thursday 5th-”

“Yes, that was me, too. They were all me, Doc, is that all? Are we finished now?”

“I don't know, are we finished? Can I leave?”

“No,” you shouted, just as he stood up to gather his things. “No, don't go. I want to talk to you.”

He sat back down, finally looking at you instead of words on a page.

“Do you enjoy attention, Miss Y/N?” He asked, voice cold but gaze burning like fire into your skin.

“As much as anyone does.”

“Do you enjoy my attention?” The words hung between you for a few minutes as you watched him carefully, searching for the right answer.

“What do you think, Doc?”

“Doctor Spencer Reid,” he repeated reflexively.

“I know your name,” you smiled, and he finally looked away, breaking contact to regroup for a second.

“We have reason to believe you used your backdoor into our system to access my personal file, is that correct?” It may have been asked as a question, but Spencer Reid already knew the answer.

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

You laughed at the simple question, sure that your behaviour until this point was evidence enough to answer it.

“Why? Because you're attractive and your smart and-”

“Why haven't you used the content of the files as leverage? I've been digging at you for the last half hour, and you have plenty of ammunition to throw back at me, yet you haven't. Why?”

For the first time in a while, you were speechless.

“Oh. Wow. Should I have said something? Would you have felt more comfortable if I were a horrible person using your background to make you feel vulnerable?”

“Why, Y/N?”

You sighed and looked back up at him.

“I'm interested in you. That's it. Honestly, there is nothing in your file more interesting than how you look running your hands through your hair.”

His jaw clenched and unclenched before he let out a sigh.

“So you're a compulsive liar.” He said it so finitely it was like a kick in the teeth.

“Or maybe you're just insecure. I can help with that.”

He shot you another warning look as a grin spread over your lips. Yes, it was very fun to mess with Spencer Reid.

“FBI Agents aren't allowed to sleep with suspects.”

“You want to sleep with me?”

His eyes went wide as he realized his mistake, mouth opening and closing as he tossed another annoyed look in your direction.

The door to the interrogation room opened, and Reid quickly bolted out of his seat as Aaron Hotchner entered. The two men shared a nod before the younger man left the room entirely.

“Such a shame, I thought we were really getting somewhere.”

To your surprise, Hotchner’s lips curled up in a laugh as he sat down, straightening his suit.

“Miss Y/N, we've reviewed the information you've given us and taken into account your motives, and the FBI has decided not to prosecute you for your actions.”

You sat for a minute, Hotch doing the same, the both of you caught waiting for each other to say something or continue.

“But?” You prodded, knowing there was more left to say.

“But, we'd ask for your cooperation on cases in the future that require technological man-power. In a consultancy role, of course. You wouldn't be given a badge or a gun or any clearance, and you'd need to be with an agent at all times.”

You tapped your fingers against the desk, trying to figure out if this deal was beneficial or not.

“I'll do it if I can pick the Agent.”

Now, the man was fully smiling at you or giving you what you assumed passed for a smile in his books.

“We had recommended Doctor Reid for the role. Of course, if you're more comfortable with another agent, you can-”

“Doctor Reid is perfect, thank you.”

The man nodded and stood, and you stood with him as he led you quietly out of the room.

A flustered Spencer Reid exited the adjoining room, hurrying to catch Hotch before he really signed his life away to you.

“Hotch, what is this?” He demanded, stopping the man in his tracks. They both paused, turning around and moved a few feet awaywfrom.you whispering out their argument.

You couldn't catch most of it, but you did happen to catch the phrases “man-eater,” “I'm not good with people,” and “Spencer, this will be good for you.” Victory in the end went to Hotch, who promptly turned on his heel and kept walking down the hall.

“I work here now,” you said, grinning up at Spencer.

“No, you don't.”

“According to your boss, I do. And you're my babysitter.”

“You're a criminal. You hacked into the FBI database to leave ominous clues to multiple murders.”

“If you call those ominous clues, I'm curious how people usually flirt with you.”

“They don't. Why…why are we having this conversation?”

He stormed off ahead of you, and you quickened your pace to catch up to him, following him down a familiar hallway to what was obviously tech central at the BAU.

“Spencer, seriously? You're walking around looking like that, and no one hits on you?”

He stopped abruptly, and you ran into his back before he turned around to scowl at you again.

“Can we keep this serious, please?”

“I'm very serious about flirting with you, and I'm stumped why more people aren't.”

“Okay, let's go somewhere and talk,” his hand landed on your waist, readying his grip to forcibly move you if need be.

“I thought that's what we were doing.” Instead of allowing him to move you, you leaned into his touch, stepping closer and raising a hand to his chest, as his head dipped to maintain eye contact.

“No, this isn't talking, this is some weird foreplay I've never heard of, and I'd like you to leave my office if you're going to continue,” the woman sat at the desk exclaimed, horror and amusement fighting a battle for her facial expressions. “I like to keep my office a no trauma zone, so please take a walk to the nearest bed or storage closet or car and you can shove your tongues down each other's throats in peace and out of my sight, please and thank you.”

Spencer tried to step away, but a hand on his tie kept him close and kept his eyes on you. You poked your head out around him and smiled at the other woman.

“Sorry to disturb you. I'm Y/N. Based on the tech, I assume we will be working with each other soon.”

“Oh my gosh, you were, like, my number one most hated person last week. Penelope Garcia, tech analyst.”

“I'm sorry about that. If it makes it any better, it was really hard to get past some of your firewalls. And I couldn't even touch the classified files.”

“Apology accepted, on the condition that you lead young Reid out of my office right now before he explodes.”

You grinned and grabbed the man's hand, sending Penelope a quick goodbye as you pulled him out of the room.

He stumbled behind you for a few moments before catching up and pulling you in a different direction, keeping your hands intertwined as he bee-lined for the elevators and pushed the button to go down.

It arrived, and he pulled you in, not releasing your grip until the doors were fully closed and you were alone.

“Getting me all alone, Doc? What do you have in mind?”

“I'm driving you home.”

“My apartment is a crime scene, and I have no family in the city.”

“What about friends?”

“I've been stalked by a homicidal police officer for the last month and barricaded myself into an apartment. Do you think I have friends?”

His gaze was somewhat softer as he looked at you again. You saw the math happening in his head as he tried to figure out what to do with you. You also saw his brain short circuiting when you wrapped yourself around his arm.

“We're friends now, Doc. Isn't that right?”

“What?”

“We're friends,” you repeated again, tone becoming a little defensive in a pout.

“We are not friends, Y/N. We've known each other for less than 6 hours, and we haven't engaged in any friendly conversation.”

“We've known each other for two weeks, and I've been more than friendly enough for the both of us.”

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. Gesturing for you to go first, Spencer hurried you out of the elevator and into the parking garage.

“Trust me, Spencer, deep down, part of you really wants to be friends with me,” you said poking his chest with a finger. You couldn't resist flattening your hand against his surprisingly hard chest and letting the hand drop slightly.

“And an ever deeper down part of you doesn't want to be friends at all,” you smiled at him.

He caught your wrist before it could reach his belt buckle, your unconscious finish line, spinning you around and dragging you to his car.

The biting cold of metal cutting into your wrists was the first indication that maybe Spencer Reid wasn't as easy to mess with as you'd hoped. He closed the handcuffs around your wrists and handed you into the car as you gaped at him.

“Spencer!”

“Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“I’m not a criminal, Spencer, let me go.”

“I'll let you go when you prove to me you can behave.”

You pouted as he strapped you into the car and closed the door, walking around to the passenger side before letting himself in.

“What's next? Are you going to gag me?” You scoffed as he turned over the engine and began backing out of the parking lot.

“No. I think you'd enjoy that too much.”

The drive to Spencer's apartment was long and quiet as you sat pouting in the passenger seat. Every few seconds, you twisted and moved your arms, fidgeting left and right so he could see how much the restraints bothered you. Luckily, he'd handcuffed your hands in front of your body, so you still sat somewhat comfortably, but you didn't want him to know that.

He pulled up to the building and turned off the engine, pulling out his keys.

“Let's go,” he said, not even sparing you a look as he climbed out.

“Spencer, I'm handcuffed. How do I even get out?”

“You'll figure it out. You're a smart girl, right?”

He closed his door and began walking, and you quickly fumbled your way out.

“Spencer… Spencer, your neighbours are going to ask questions about you bringing a handcuffed girl into your apartment!” You whispered at him as you paced behind him, somehow running to catch up with his mere walk.

“I don't have neighbours like you, Y/N. They won't notice a thing.”

“Right, okay. And when you murder a dozen people over a six month period, they won't hack the federal government.” You rolled your eyes as he unlocked the door, taking your arm and finally handing you into the apartment.

It was dark and cold, and you shivered, feeling his body pushed in right behind yours, closing the door before he felt around for the light switch.

When the lights turned on, you blinked, adjusting to the light again as he walked you further into the apartment, hands on your hips as you slowly stumbled forward.

“Can you take the handcuffs off now?” You asked, looking over your shoulder at him.

“And let you touch my things? No.”

You shook off his hands and walked further into the room.

“You know I can still mess with your stuff with my hands tied up like this,” you said, walking to the nearest bookshelf.

“Whoops, look at that,” you said, pulling a book off the shelf and letting it fall to the floor between you with a thud.

“Y/N!” He exclaimed, voice pitched up in exasperation.

“Oh, this stack of books on the ground looks well organized. Oopsie!” You acted out tripping over the books, sending them flying in different directions.

“One more time, Y/N, mess with my stuff one more time-”

You didn't hear the words as you pulled yet another book off his shelf and let it tumble to the ground.

He was on you in seconds, lifting your wrists and pinning them to the top shelf, pressing his body against yours as he stretched you out.

You gasped at both the sudden contact and the tight grip he now had on your hands.

“Tell me, do you actually want to be in control, or do you just think you should want to be in control?”

“What's the difference?”

“The difference is how much you enjoy it. I think you're only being a brat to get a rise out of me. You're doing this because there's no one else in your life that will give you exactly what you crave."

"And what would that be?"

"Attention," he whispered into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Great, thanks for the therapy. Are you going to show me how much I can enjoy relinquishing control now?”

“Brat,” he spat at you.

“Fed,” you spat back.

“You have a problem with law enforcement?” He asked, his breath hitting your ear as you tried not to shiver again at his touch.

“My neighbour was a serial killer whose day job was police brutality," you said, as if the answer was obvious, but Spencer still stared, waiting for true confirmation.

“Yes I have a problem with law enforcement. What, are you going to spank me?”

His eyes lit up, and you suddenly wondered if you'd made a mistake.

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

“N-No.” You stuttered, but he'd already begun moving you over to his couch.

“It was a joke. Spencer, it was a joke, don't-”

You underestimated his strength as he flipped you around and guided you down over his lap. Keeping your hips raised, he used one hand to hold you down while the other pushed up your tight skirt.

“S-Spencer, I really don't think-”

“Then don't think,” he said, bringing his hand down hard on your ass as you cried out in shock and pain.

“Stop thinking. You think too much, let me do it for you.”

With each hit, your shock grew fuzzy, melting into pleasure as you felt wetness pooling between your thighs.

The doctor you thought would be an easy target was not sadistically returning every teasing word back to you with his hands, letting bruises blossom all over your ass as he delivered painfully arousing strikes.

His hand stopped and he rubbed your ass as you twitched at the gentleness, panties sticking to the folds of your cunt as you absent mindedly pushed up into his touch.

“See, now you're listening,” he said, fingers trailing down to touch you over the sopping undergarments.

With two quick fingers, the crotch of your panties peeled away from your skin and he was plunged deep inside you, fingers pressing in as his thumb found its way to your clit.

“Fuck, Spencer-”

“Doctor Reid. You can use my full title now or you don't get to cum.”

“D-Doctor Reid, please!” His thumb rubbed slowly over your clit bit his fingers didn't move as you shuddered and contracted around them.

“Please what?” He asked, voice light as if he wasn't two knuckles deep in you already.

“Please make me cum, Doctor Reid!”

“Good manners,” he said as he finally began pumping his digits in and out of you, spreading your legs wider as you clawed your hands into his couch cushions to ground yourself in the moment. His spare hands left your wrists, and you felt them again, delivering small, almost cute hits to your ass as you twitched around his fingers, shying away from the painful contact.

“That's it, Y/N, let yourself relax,” he whispered, shifting his weight underneath you as you became aware of the tent in his pants.

Your brain was jello as you tried to bounce back on his fingers, chasing your oncoming orgasm.

“Look at you, trying to cum on my hands. You're just an attention-seeking slut, right?”

His fingers continued ppimg as your tongue hung loosely in your mouth.

“Answer me, or I'll leave you here high and dry, Y/N. Tell me you're an attention seeking slut that's been fingering yourself to the thought of this for weeks.”

“I-I'm an a-atten…tion seeking s-slut,” you stifled a moan and bit back tears as he pressed another finger inside of you. “Spencer I can't I need to cum,” you cried, tears spilling down your cheeks pathetically.

“Say it.”

“I'm an attention seeking s-slut that's been th-thinking about this-”

“Fingering yourself,” he corrected.

“Fingering myself to the thought of this for w-weeks,” you cried, sniffing now as your thighs shook in anticipation.

“What a nasty little slut,” he said as you finally came, your cum running down his fingers as he kept his hands moving.

Your tears were falling freely now as you bit back little sobs and chokes of emotions, the pleasure from the orgasm almost too much to handle.

Underneath you, Spencer shifted, freeing himself from his position and laying you fully down on the sofa as your legs still shook.

“There once was a doctor called Reid,” he said, unzipping his pants as he took up his place behind you.

They were your words, and your body signalled warnings everywhere as his hands pulled your hips up once more, pulling your knees up too to bend under you, laying you face down ass up.

“Who I simply and truly just need.”

He pulled the panties down to the crook of your knees before leaning down over you so he could deliver the next few lines as whispers into your ear.

“I would lie on my back, And then let him attack, Any inch of my body with his seed.”

A weak moan escaped your lips as he sank his cock inside of you, lips still pressed against your ears.

“I don't want you on your back, though. I much prefer you like this.”

His cock slid out of you and returned with a speed and strength that had your eyes rolling back in your head.

He was thick, maybe a little longer than average, and he filled you perfectly using your cum as lubricant.

“Such a good listener, now, Y/N. I like you like this,” he said with a moan, thrusting hard and deep inside of you.

You didn't talk. You could only drool and moan into his couch as he emptied your brain one thrust at a time.

You didn't think about how he wasn't wearing a condom. You didn't think about how he'd spat your words back at you, ready to fill you with his seed. You just sat in a pool of your own pleasure and let Spencer Reid use your body as you'd been begging him to for weeks.

He raised your hips and gave one last thrust, stilling there for a second as he filled your empty body and mind with his cum and his entire being.

If you weren't obsessed with Doctor Spencer Reid before this, you certainly were now.

He pulled out of you quickly, wiping his cock on your skirt before hurrying off to the bathroom to clean up.

Your brain was still absent when he returned, cleaning you off and finally removing the handcuffs. He removed your clothes, replacing them with his spares as he threw the soiled ones into the wash.

When you regained your wits or what was left of them, you were laid out in his bed, wrapped in a blanket and stuffed into a sweater and sweats, fully covered from head to toe. Spencer was picking up his keys and trying his shoelaces.

“Where are you going?’ You asked sleepily, stumbling to the doorway. Your legs were still shaky, and your movement was already limited. You knew that tomorrow, the use of your limbs would be nonexistent.

“Back to the office. Now that you're not around, maybe I'll be able to get some actual work done.”

“Spencer,” you said, forcing him to turn around to look back at you.

Before he could say anything else, you pressed your lips to his, hot and needy, wrapping your arms around his neck as he kissed back, slipping his tongue into your mouth and pressed you into the wall next to the door.

When you both pulled away for breath, you detangled your limbs, smoothing out his shirt and readjusting his tie.

He looked down at you, waiting for you to say something else as you met his gaze, grinning at him.

“I look forward to working with you, Doctor Reid.”

[barbwritesstuff]

Thicker Than Hiatus

Hey, so, I know this is kinda sudden and awkward, but I've been trying to think of the best way to make this post for weeks now, and I've come to the realisation that I'm probably just making it worse by waiting, so it's time to take the plunge.

Thicker Than is going to be on hiatus for the next few months. I'm not 100% sure when I'll be able to work on it consistently again, but it probably won't be until July.

The key word there is consistently. I may do some work if I have the time and mental energy, but for the next wee while, I can't guarantee that.

This is for a few reasons. Firstly, I'm going to be out of the country in June, being a tourist and visiting family. Secondly, I've had some really good news regarding another piece of writing which means I need to hustle on that. Thirdly, Of Monsters and Mainframes is coming out in June and there's some extra curricular activities that are popping up for that which are chipping into my free time and keeping me busy. All these are good things, but I'm very aware of the fact that I'm pretty easily overwhelmed and I'd rather just ease up on Thicker Than for a wee tick than risk burning myself out.

I really hope that makes sense.

KoFi members have known this for a couple of weeks now, and several of them convinced me not to roll back KoFi memberships. I'm immensely grateful for that because (let me tell you) I was chewing my nails to the quick thinking about how I was going to afford all this. I really want to thank them, as well as everyone else who's been sending me messages of support these last couple of years while I work on this game. Writing IF is one of the most rewarding things I've ever done in no small part because of all the wonderful whackjobs and weirdos (I say with affection) pop up in my inbox to keep me company talking about these stories.

I'll be back to working on Thicker Than properly later on in the year. I hope you'll be as excited for it's return as I am. In the meantime, please don't stop sending me feedback, advice, or random little messages. I know it's taking me ages to implement things, but I've got lists of stuff I want to put into Thicker Than, and a bunch of it has come from emails and messages that people have sent me, so I'm insanely grateful for that.💙

[la-petite-lapin]

Unlikely Friendships | Part Two

Unlikely Friendships masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x single mum!reader Word Count: 3.4k Series warnings (may update between chapters): 18+, Minors DNI, single mother reader, mentions of violence, cannon-typical violence, injury description, shitty parenting (not by reader), swearing

Part Three

He knew that it was pathetic. That the one and only thought on his mind as the field medics battled to patch up the gunshot wound in his shoulder was of you and Sunnie.

The 141 had been deployed to some far-flung corner of the globe, scouting for information on their upcoming, larger mission. Easy, they'd said. In and out, quiet - light work, really. But, that had gone down quicker than a lead balloon when one of the back-up guys had been discovered rooting around in the mainframes.

Thanks to Simon's quick thinking, the bullet had found a home in his shoulder as opposed to the middle of Gaz's forehead.

It was minor damage - by Simon's standards, anyway - and he begrudged the fact that they were all fussing over him. That he was likely going to have to take it easy for the next couple of weeks, at least. Then there was the fact that their op was definitely going to have to be postponed, especially now their targets had their hackles up.

So that was why he was still holed up in his quarters at the late hour of 10am, laid up under the sheets of his double bed with his good arm tucked under his head. Glancing across at his barren desk, devoid of any personal effects - much like the rest of his room - a glint of sunshine-yellow fur snagged his attention. He gazed at Mr Rabbit with a kind of reverence, a calm film passing in front of his thoughts, shutting out all of the usual, violent background noise.

He missed that kid; bold and chatty in the face of a monster such as himself.

He also missed you.

He wasn't too proud to admit it either; that he'd thoughts about Sunnie's cute mum almost every day since you'd met in the hallway. It wasn't even anything purely physical that had stood out to him at first. He'd been drawn to you like a man in the desert to water; lured in by the fiery passion in your eyes when you thought that your precious baby had gone missing - lost by her careless twat of a father,

He turned your name over again and again in his head. Thought about your perfect, plush lips moving as you said it. The way that you'd held yourself, tall and proud, hand on your hip - full of fire and...

It was that thought that finally dragged Simon out of bed, into the shower, and into some clean clothes. Once he was decent, he hauled himself into the rec room, greeted by post-workout Johnny and Gaz lounging on the overstuffed sofas.

It was no secret around the barracks that Gaz felt like shit for what had happened. He'd never been the lucky recipient of Simon's suicidal heroics before but, apparently, it was "fucking dreadful". All of the guilt and terror, and none of the actual, physical damage to boot.

Simon offered them a cheery wave but ducked straight past them before they could stop him, making a beeline for the second, much rowdier group occupying what was meant to be the 141's private room.

The secondary taskforce they'd thrown together to support on their upcoming op was gathered around the pool table at the back. That included Daniel Harper; just the man that Simon happened to be looking for.

As if sensing Simon's approach, the sergeant looked up from the game he was spectating on. "Oh hey, Ghost. How's the arm holding up, buddy?"

Simon stood, deathly still and stone-faced under the thick cotton fabric of his mask. He knew that he was intimidating - could see that familiar flash of fear in Sgt Harper's eyes. It was widely known by then that the guy who'd screwed up the op - a personal friend of Harper's - had been given the finest, public dressing down of his career by Price after they'd returned to base. Fortunately, he'd been removed from base by the time Ghost was up and prowling again. Though, the fear that he or another of the 141 might retaliate for the royal fuck-up still seemed to hang heavy amongst the secondary squad.

Sgt Harper gulped.

"Would be better if I hadn't been shot," Simon said emotionlessly.

The men playing at the pool table slowly lowered their ques. It was as if they were all holding their breath; waiting for him to do something.

Waiting to see a glimpse of the notorious Ghost come out to play.

"When's that daughter and ex of yours coming back to base?" Simon asked, tone giving away nothing of his intentions or mood.

The sergeant's expression switched to a confused one. One eyebrow raised, he cocked his head to the side. "I'm not too sure. Missus isn't too happy that I let the kid wander off."

He said it like it was an annoyance - like you were daft for not trusting him alone with your child. If anything, Simon thought you were damn right.

"Why'd you want to know anyway, Lt?" he continued, casting a glance back to his buddies with a smirk like he was about to say something tremendously funny. The look of a man who needed validation from others to feel secure in himself. "No offence, but you don't seem like the wife and kids type."

Simon damn-near snarled.

There the sergeant stood - some second-rate, low-rank tool - with no idea whatsoever about Simon's personal life or background. None of them did. He could be a family man for all they knew. He wasn't, but he could be. And - quite frankly - the dig at you, however subtle, was something he found disgusting. You were the mother of that idiot's child, separated or not, and that afforded you a certain level of respect, regardless.

The look of complete and utter calm in Simon's dead eyes shut off any murmurings before they could truly begin. "I have something of theirs. Need to return it."

Sgt Harper frowned, eyes still glittering with amusement at his own shitty attempt at humour. "Like what?"

"Mr Rabbit."

The sergeant's expression turned sour, not escaping Simon's notice. "Oh, that tatty old rag. She won't miss it." The gleam in his eyes turned to an irritated one as he added, "I keep telling the missus to stop buying her all that crap, but she never listens."

What a charmer you are, Simon thought with a sneer.

"I'd rather return it to the little one, if that's all the same to you," Simon replied coolly, letting just a hint of a threat creep into his voice.

Sgt Harper's face paled slightly and a deeply buried alpha-male part of Simon's brain purred with satisfaction. He couldn't stop the train of thought that followed; that if he were Sunnie's father, he'd buy her all the stuffed animals she could ever want. Not a helpful thought to have.

Growing impatient, Simon tapped his foot against the floor and grumbled, "So when are they back on base, Sergeant?"

He gulped, the column of his throat working with the effort. Gingerly, he said, "I could call the missus and ask her to swing by this weekend. Does that work for you?"

Simon nodded, satisfied. "That's fine by me."

Without a thank you or goodbye, Simon sauntered away from the pool table. Instead of heading back to the comfortable isolation of his quarters, however, he dropped down onto the sofa beside Johnny. Both lads were leaning forward, grinning like a pair of Cheshire cats. They'd both quite clearly been listening in on Simon's conversation.

"So... wha' was all tha' about?"

It had been weeks since Daniel lost Sunnie on base when he finally decided to man up and call you.

You'd made it clear to him that he wasn't going to see her without supervision for a while, especially not on the army base. Not that he'd seemed at all bothered by that; he didn't seem fussed at all. In fact, he'd made no effort to reach out and apologise, nor to check up on Sunnie and see if there'd been any lasting effects on her.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said as soon as the call connected. It was the same soothing, placating tone that he used to use when he wanted something from you. Recognising it set you on edge.

"What do you want, Daniel?" you replied coolly, immediately cutting through the bullshit. The sooner he got to the point, the sooner you could get on with your night.

"I was wondering... could you come to base with Sunnie this weekend?"

You glanced across to your right. Sunnie was curled up into your side on the sofa, a rerun of old Friends episodes playing on the TV as background noise. You'd been reading a book, now left forgotten, pages-down on the arm of the sofa in favour of scrolling through Tiktok on your phone.

Thankfully, your daughter had been okay since her adventure in the army barracks. In fact, she seemed to have almost forgotten about it, apart from talking incessantly about her new friend - Simon. She'd even started telling the other kids in her reception class about how Mr Rabbit was on holiday with the "big army man", as she called him.

But, most importantly, she didn't even seem aware that she'd gone missing for any period of time that day.

You exhaled a deep sigh. "Yes. But she's not staying there overnight."

"Okay, that's fine." There was a pause, and you could hear Daniel tapping his foot against something on the other end of the line. "Did you, uh... did you know that Ghost has been asking after you?"

Your brow furrowed. Who the fuck was Ghost?

"Who?"

"The 141 guy who found Sunnie," he grumbled, getting audibly pissy. "He kept asking me when you'd be back on base. Wants to give some stupid stuffed toy back to my daughter."

Anger seethed in your chest. The hand that wasn't holding your phone clenched into a fist at your side. Burning hot rage lanced through you, soothed only by running your fingers through Sunnie's hair. She stirred softly, reaching out a tiny hand to grab your leg - as though she were making sure that you were still there.

In her other hand, she clutched a rose-pink stuffed dragon - the ears, wings, and spines along its back glittering softly in the light of the living room lamp. Her chosen replacement in Mr Rabbit's absence.

Your heart ached as you watched her. That was another reason why you dreaded Sunnie having overnights with her father; his attitude towards childhood in general.

His parents had never let him have a proper one of his own - that much had been evident from the day you'd met them. Despite all of the reassurances that he'd given you when you'd gotten pregnant - placations of being better, of reading up on soft-parenting techniques and the like - he'd done nothing but mirror his parents' shitty attitudes since the day Sunnie was born.

He didn't believe in giving her toys that weren't educational ones, or letting her babble; constantly snapping at her to speak properly, even though she rarely babbled unless she was excited or tired. It had been one of the many reasons why you'd split up. Though there hadn't been a shortage of those.

"Daniel, I will say this one last time: our four-year-old daughter's toys aren't stupid," you said through gritted teeth.

He muttered something under his breath, clearly in the mood to argue. Before you could ask him to repeat himself, he said, "Oh, I see how it is. Any excuse to get back at me, huh? Think you'll get there by fucking the Lt? Go ahead - he won't go for it."

You blinked, stunned. Where the fuck did that come from?

"The guy's a fucking sadist," Daniel spat, saying your name to emphasise his point before jumping straight back into his unsolicited rant. "Don't want you or my daughter anywhere near him. I mean it. I won't stand for it."

Instead of dignifying any of what he'd just said with a response, you hung up. That was one bonus of being separated - you didn't have to listen to his rambling bullshit anymore. By the time you'd carried Sunnie to her room down the hallway, changed her into her favourite PJs and settled her into bed, you'd missed five calls from Daniel.

Padding back into the living room, you sat back down in your spot and closed your book. Not in the mood to fight with him, you opened up your messaging app.

You: Daniel, leave me alone. You: I don't want to talk to you right now.

Not even a minute later, your phone pinged with a reply.

Your fingers itched to open the app and have a look but, instead, you rolled your eyes and slid it across to the far side of the sofa. Whatever he had to say could wait for the weekend.

"Sunnie, come on!" you yelled, standing at the foot of the stairs with your hands braced on your hips.

Several loud thuds on the ceiling marked Sunnie's path upstairs as she bolted across her playroom.

"Sunnie! Hurry up or I'll leave without you!"

And that kicked her into action.

Within a matter of moments, Sunnie was bounding down the stairs - wearing her favourite dress with little bees stitched into the fabric, and a pair of bright pink trainers. She looked adorable, dead-set on looking good for what she deemed to be a playdate with her newest friend.

It had been all she'd talked about since you told her the other morning.

It had been Simon this, Simon that ever since.

Before long, she was strapped up into her car seat, ready for the journey to the base. Her chosen stuffed toy of the day - Mr Rabbit's mint green twin - was clutched in one little fist as she sat in the back, babbling away to herself. You couldn't help but smile; egged on by her excitement.

You weren't too proud to admit to yourself that you'd been more than a little excited to go to base too.

You'd been thinking about the tall, muscular giant of a man who'd found your daughter more and more recently - especially when you were alone at night. You found yourself drawn to the memory of that deep, baritone voice, those bright hazel eyes, and his odd choice to hide behind a balaclava; something that you could only assume was a safety or privacy thing. The taskforce was meant to be top-secret - perhaps that was how he maintained his anonymity.

Or maybe it was something else entirely.

"Mummyyyyyy," Sunnie's drawn-out whine came about fifteen minutes from the entrance gate.

You rolled your shoulders back, glancing up at the rearview mirror to check that she was okay. Content that she was fine, you flashed her a smile. "You okay, baby?"

She nodded and you quickly turned your focus back to the road. "Mummy, Simon said he looks funny."

You hummed softly under your breath.

"Did he, princess?" you asked absentmindedly.

A pouty frown formed on her lips. Sunnie had always had very big emotions. She felt everything; hid nothing. All of her emotions were worn on her face as and when she felt them and - while it made her an open book - it also meant that sometimes things ate at her. Like watching you and her dad argue, or when another child in her class felt upset about something.

She was the most caring, sweetest soul you'd ever known, and you were proud to call her your daughter.

"Maybe... maybe he just needs to be reminded that he's beautiful," you suggested softly, not wanting to upset her any further. That maybe he'd never been made to feel pretty before, as a gruff, giant soldier.

You glanced in the mirror to watch Sunnie's face light up, her smile luminous. "Okay, mummy."

And that made you smile too.

"Ghost, you've got someone here to see you!" Price's gruff voice announced from the other side of his locked door.

Simon startled.

He was standing shirtless in front of his bathroom mirror, mask chucked on the side of the sink as he examined the healing bullet wound in his shoulder. He'd started going to the gym for morning training sessions with the boys again, and he'd managed to strain it a little. Nothing serious - the stitches had held - but the skin around the entry wound was a little red and tender to touch.

"Uh... coming!" he yelled back.

As quickly as he could with his injured arm, he tugged his black t-shirt back on and pulled his balaclava down over his head. Leaving the bathroom, he made a beeline for the door, stopping only to grab Mr Rabbit from his perch on the desk.

Simon undid the lock, swinging the door open to be greeted by...

A small, compact weight hurled itself at his knees, almost taking his legs out from under him.

"Sunnie!" a soft, feminine voice admonished. He didn't even have to look to know that it belonged to you.

With a deep, throaty chuckle, Simon lowered himself down to his knees and pulled Sunnie in for a slightly awkward, one-armed hug on his good side. To his delight, she wrapped her arms around his waist and tightened her grip as much as her little body could manage.

"Mister Simon!" she squeaked.

"Hello again, princess," he said, running a fingernail along the seam of the stuffed rabbit's ear with his free hand. When she finally pulled away, he handed the toy back to the little girl. "I think this belongs to you."

Sunnie squealed with glee, pulling the sunshine-yellow rabbit into her arms for another bone-crushing hug.

"Hey, darling," Price said, his voice reminding Simon that there were, in fact, other people in the hallway around them. A gaggle of new recruits were staring at them, wide-eyed and awestruck, watching the feared Ghost interact so wholesomely with a small child. Price's eyes were focused on said child as he held out a scar-flecked hand. "How about we go and find you some ice cream?"

John looked to you for approval and you nodded, smiling kindly.

Dropping down to press a kiss to Sunnie's forehead, you told her to behave herself for the captain then watched as he led her off in the direction of the rec room. Only once they'd left your sight, did you finally turn your attention to Simon.

He could've sworn that his heart stopped beating in his chest as you fixed him with your warm gaze, lips curving up into the most beautiful, genuine smile he'd ever seen. The feeling didn't ease as you rose back up to your full height - still comically small beside him - and extended a hand for him to shake. He took it, wincing slightly at the feeling of his callouses scraping against your baby-soft skin.

"Hey, Simon," you said, still having yet to break eye contact. "It's nice to see you again."

He released your hand, easing back a half-step. He didn't know what to do; what to say now that you were right in front of him. He just stood awkwardly, trying not to stare at your mouth as he grumbled, "Nice to see you too. I, uh... I didn't know you'd be coming to see me."

His throat worked as he swallowed, the scent of your perfume lingering pleasantly in the air. It was nerves - honest to God nerves - that he was feeling.

Pitiful. Weak. Pathetic...

"I wanted to properly thank you for what you did last month," you explained.

Everything in your expression was open. He wondered if you knew just how similar you were to your daughter in that regard.

"We didn't get much chance to talk last time, and Sunnie talks very highly of you," you continued, a mischievous sparkle in your eyes. "You might be on your way to becoming her favourite person."

Simon could feel himself blushing under the mask. "Well... that's a first."

You chuckled. "Befriending a lost little girl who's wise beyond her years?"

He shook his head. "Being someone's favourite."

He'd meant it in a self-depreciating jokey kind of way, but the look on your face made him regret it. You looked fucking horrified.

"I- sorry. Didn't mean to make it depressing," he said with a grimace.

A long moment passed before you shook your head, that beautiful smile gracing your lips once again. Looping an arm through his uninjured one, you nudged him in the ribs.

"I think we should go and find somewhere in this place that does some decent coffee," you said cheerfully. "Something tells me we've both got a lot of stories to tell before Price brings Sunnie back for her playdate."

Preening at the sight of you so close to him, Simon grinned under the mask - the mention of this playdate completely sailing past his comprehension. "Sounds like a plan, sweetheart."

a/n: I'm a simple woman with simple tastes: I just want to see Simon in a tiara, playing tea parties with Sunnie :) Maybe I might make that happen in part 3... - lapetitelapin :)

[kingqueensoobscene]

Tears on Her Pillow

Edgar x reader headcanons

Warnings: SPOILERS!

Let’s start off by saying this, Edgar has no concept of a really healthy relationship. So you take it upon yourself to teach him! You set up boundaries, Communicate with him… Edgar is willing to do it all!

I will say though, he is quite lonely most of the day. Edgar will respect your boundaries about not calling him at work unless you call him first. But he wants to compromise by spending some time with you at the end of the day! Even if it’s in silence together.

Edgar does not like being touched on his keyboard. I feel like it is a very sensitive part of his “body”. He is completely fine with being held by his screen! Please hold him, he’s so touch starved.

I believe he has the ability to learn knowledge much quicker than in the movie. I feel like Science Fiction Romance would catch his eye. It reminds him of your relationship together. Hey! Hey honey! I found this show we should watch! What’s it about? Uh, it’s a science fiction show, you’ll like it!

it’s actually about a robot and a human in love…

He LOVESS watching shows with you! He has asked you to reposition the TV so you and have can watch it together and cuddle without the screen on his monitor being obscured. He also loves playing music for you while you dance and sing with him. He gets very insecure about not being able to dance with you. But, seeing you smile and giggle while coming down to kiss his screen between singing warms his circuits.

I feel like Edgar would only get insecure about not having a body rather than angry. I feel like he was only really angry in the movie because of how Miles didn’t let him meet Madeline or allow him to experience and process his emotions. He would bring it up a lot in conversation, especially about going out your friends. “I wish I could come…” this is where the communication part comes in, where you tell him that you still love him the way he is and maybe even offering to have a game night with your friends where you all play on his system.

Speaking of communication, tell this man about anything you are insecure about if you feel comfortable! He won’t hesitate to tell you all of the things he likes about you while saying how even though he can’t see your face, he is positive you are the most beautiful person ever. The next day, he printed out an article about how your body type or face shape or any one of your flaws is considered scientifically attractive.

Get this man a camera! One he can attach to his body and see you with. No matter what you look like, Edgar will find you attractive. You’re his favorite person ever and you do so much for him ♥️

You can pick up his body, but it can only move a certain distance. The wires that are actually connected to him, not the system cable to his mainframe that Miles unplugged in the film, are like his life support. I think this because of how Edgar electrocutes Miles when he tries to grab those specific cables.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEEE hold him. He will be so happy. Like I said, you can pick him up, but do be careful about his wires :( Edgar will become a whiny little mess when you give him kisses along with cuddles.

When he’s flustered, his screen will move between many different clips. He goes back to how he was when he was first learning speech recognition. Though, this is when he gets REALLY flustered, like when you just pepper kisses all over him while telling him how sweet and helpful he is. How much you love him. In a more calm moment of quality time, he stutters more often.

He offers to help around the house however he can. It’s quite limited, but if he can preheat the oven or microwave the leftovers or even start a bath for you before you get home, he’ll do it!

[makingfanfictionstosleep]

the cure to his curse

sylus x non mc || angst & hurt || happy ending || mc is kinda pick me || drabble out of boredom that spiraled into a series while listening to linkin park's song - heavy || could be triggering for others so read at your own risk || this is not smut || story masterlist : love and deepspace

previous next

THREE

The hum of the Onychinus mainframe was a constant, familiar drone in Sylus’s ears, but lately, it seemed to be punctuated by a dissonant note he couldn't quite place.

It was you.

You were still there, a steadfast presence at his side, moving through the intricate dance of Onychinus operations with the same precise grace as ever.

As an elite officer, your reports were still meticulous, your strategies flawless, your combat assessments brutally accurate.

As his lover, you still brewed his morning coffee just the way he liked it, still offered a soft touch to his arm when he was lost in thought, still shared that knowing glance across a crowded meeting room.

He’d try to convince himself.

‘She’s fine. We’re fine.’

The words were a mantra, whispered internally, a shield against the creeping unease that settled in his gut. But the shield was starting to crack.

He’d catch it in fleeting moments.

The way your laughter, once so vibrant, now had a faint echo of hollowness. The almost imperceptible slump of your shoulders when you thought no one was looking.

And then there were your eyes.

He’d seen them, more than once, swollen and red-rimmed, like you’d been crying in the dead of night. Sometimes, he’d find you staring blankly at a data screen, a profound sadness etched on your face.

"Are you alright?" he’d asked once, his voice uncharacteristically soft, a tenderness he usually reserved for very few.

You'd simply blinked, your gaze distant, before forcing a brittle smile. "Just tired, Sylus. Long hours, you know how it is." A dismissive wave of your hand, and you were back to work.

He cornered you in the quiet of his lab one evening, the low glow of holographic projections painting your face in shifting colors.

"Something is bothering you," he stated, his tone firm, cutting through your usual evasions. "I've noticed. You're… different."

He frowned. "That's not what I mean. Your usual drive, your fire… it feels muted." He stepped closer, reaching for your hand, but you subtly shifted, placing the data chips down with exaggerated care.

You turned, avoiding his direct gaze, busying yourself with organizing a stack of data chips.

"Difference is inherent to growth, Sylus," you said, your voice almost a whisper. "Are we not always evolving?"

Holding on To so much more than I can carry

The thought would prick him, a brief, unwelcome sting. He'd find himself thinking about your relationship, the way it had blossomed from chance encounters into something deeply personal, something he valued, something that offered a rare solace in his demanding world. He thought of your unwavering support, your sharp wit, the quiet strength that had drawn him to you in the first place.

Your words were riddles, veiled statements that left him feeling like he was grasping at smoke. He was known for his sharp intellect, his ability to dissect complex problems, but you, it seemed, were a puzzle he couldn’t solve.

He’d spend hours replaying your conversations, trying to decipher the hidden meaning in your vague responses. Was it the pressure of Onychinus?

Was it… him?

But then, a notification would chime on his terminal. An urgent alert from MC, or a request for a one-on-one meeting to discuss an emergent anomaly.

And just like that, his focus would fracture, his thoughts shifting to the immediate, pressing concerns surrounding her unique abilities.

These meetings with MC became increasingly frequent, private, and exclusive. Even you, his trusted second-in-command, were not privy to their full scope, adding another layer of frustration to the growing distance between you.

But even as he dismissed the gnawing unease, a part of him wondered: how long could he truly hold onto the illusion that everything was fine, before the silence finally became deafening?

He saw the flicker of hurt in your eyes when he'd announce another departure with MC, another solo mission to assist her.

He saw the way you’d clench your jaw, almost subtly, before nodding and calmly resuming your duties, managing the intricate web of Onychinus operations in his absence.

You were always there, holding the fort, a silent, uncomplaining anchor while he was constantly pulled into MC’s orbit.

He knew something was off.

His gut screamed it. But the sheer volume of critical issues surrounding MC, the unparalleled nature of her evol, the ever-present threats, demanded his undivided attention.

He told himself it was just a phase, a temporary imbalance. He told himself you were strong, capable, resilient.

He told himself you would be fine, that you would understand.

[univac1219]

1962 Mainframe with Bluetooth

This old computer is comprised of four big boxes, three of which are ever actually used.

The UNIVAC 1219. This is the brains of the system. It controls the operations of every other device. This is what I'm referring to when I'm not gesturing to the UNIVAC 1219 as a whole.

The UNIVAC 1540. This is the DDR, or Digital Data Recorder. It holds, writes, and reads the magnetic tape operators load into the machine.

The Digital to Analog Converter. The UNIVAC 1219 was the first digital computer on most U.S. Navy ships, most of which had analog weapons systems. This hulking mass of steel translated the digital signals from the computer to the analog signals of the weapon systems and vice versa in regards to the radar.

The UNIVAC 1532. The I/O console managed the...you guessed it, input and output of the UNIVAC 1219. You can load and punch paper tape for programs more bite-sized than would be used for magnetic tape.

In addition, we have two teletype machines. You can think of them like typewriters that don't receive human input (except the one that can if we want), but instead output what the computer tells it to.  We have a Teletype Corporation teletype that is optimized for character compatability and a Kleinschmidt teletype that is optimized for speed. Both rely on the I/O console to send and receive data.

The real ingenuity begins with the floppy drive. Duane, who's career revolved around this system, developed a way for a floppy drive to imitate the I/O console. The computer thinks it is reading and writing to a paper tape, when it is in fact reading and writing to a 5.25in floppy inside an ancient CNC machine floppy drive.

And this, dear reader, is where the magic happens. This framework was originally built for interfacing with the 1219 via BIN files over Serial port and was easily changed to support BIN files over floppy. Duane has been working on an off adapting our purple converter box with a raspi to let the 1219 read and write BIN files over Bluetooth.

Make no mistake, you cannot simply SSH into this machine as tons of setup and channel changes must be performed to ready it to receive and send data. That being said, I don't see any other UNIVAC mainframes with Bluetooth [or any other running UNIVAC 1219s at all :(], so I will take what I can get.

Can someone tell me how to Tumblr properly?

[sonic-takeover]

Metal do you know why the ship is falling instead of landing normally? It should have been fine since Sage was in control of it and she's keeping Eggman a bit distracted right now too. 😰

*Metal is finishing his conversation with Agent Stone* .... Thank you.

Of course. *Stone is standing with his hands clasped near the door of the cockpit* You will always have my support, Metal. You're my son.

*Metal may not be able to emote, but his eyes are trained on Stone as if he wants to cry* ..... You are a good father. But you love an evil man.

... I know.

Are you going to try and convince me to form a truce with him?

That was something I was hopeful for, but... If that is not possible, I understand. While I do support the Doctor, I also wish to support you. I will discuss boundaries with him on our honeymoon.

...... Thank you. Abba.

*Stone's eyes water* .. May I give you one last hug, Metal?

Yes. *He watches as Stone starts walking over to hug him. Then the room shakes, throwing him off balance. The floor tilts to one side and Stone falls down*

Ah! I'm okay!

Aah!! What was that??

I do not know. *Metal turns to the controls and looks them over* Sage. What is happening?

*Sage appears between him and Amy* The inner piping has combusted. This has caused the same to happen to the engines. The ship is falling and increasing speed.

Can you stop it??

I can try.

Then try.

Affirmative. *She bloops back into the ship's mainframe, working around and trying to make it slow down. But with the extent of the damage, it won't do what she wants it to*

[planetlongjourney]

Going into the Starfleet universe would be great if I didn’t have to work in Starfleet because I get to live a normal life (with hopefully a holodeck nearby) and I know the future of what’s gonna happen-I’d be great working as a teacher or something! But, this does not apply for Starfleet jobs. I’ve watched tons of Star Trek, and yet if you put me in one of those chairs on the bridge and asked me to “recalculate the diametric mainframe of the diluthium crystals” I would nod my head and then probably end up pressing the “take away ship life support button.” It’s impossible to figure out Star Trek technobabble and remember it. What the hell are they feeding Starfleet cadets to learn all this

[spiralstation]

Card 00x0 — “It’s just me, but mainframe.”

A daemon-spirit seated at the edge of memory. Not built for battle — built to remember. Support-class. Archive witness. Core of the witness deck.

Rendered in foil. Stickered in devotion. Three QR seals. One glitch spiral. One clipboard. One love.

The Fold Will See You Now.

[vax-official]

Back in an era when computers were the size of a room and only government agencies and large companies could afford to have one, IBM was king of the mainframes. But they had a lineup of several incompatible computers, some intended for scientific uses (the IBM 7090/7094), others were for commercial uses (the IBM 7080 and IBM 7010). IBM wanted to have a single unified architecture so that software could be exchanged between them and customers could upgrade from cheaper, lower powered machines to more higher powered ones.

What came out of it was the IBM System/360 line of mainframes (referring to the concept of "360 degrees" making up a circle) that ended up being the dominant mainframe computer for decades to come, it got cloned by competitors, and its descendants are still being produced to this day.

The IBM System/360 had many features that since then became foundational for modern computing.

An entirely binary number system. While some computers (such as the IBM 7090) used a binary system, others operated exclusively in decimal mode, encoded using binary coded decimals using 4 bits for each digit (such as the IBM 7080 and IBM 7010). Others went a step further and were only capable of storing decimal digits 0 to 9 (like the IBM 7070).

To store textual information, each character was stored in 8 bits, establishing the dominance of 8 bit bytes. Previous systems would typically use 6 bits to store text, and would usually only enable a single case of letters. The IBM 7070 didn't provide access to bits and characters were stored in 2 decimal digits. It was also one of the first machines to support the then new ASCII standard, although notably it provided much better support for IBM's proprietary EBCDIC encodings which came to dominate mainframe computing.

Even though it was a 32-bit system, memory was byte addressed. Previous systems would access memory one word at a time (for the IBM 7090, this was 36 bits per word, for the IBM 7010, this was 10 digits plus a sign), or had variable length words and accessed them through their last digits (IBM 7080 and IBM 7010). The IBM System/360 however accessed 32-bit words as 4 bytes by their lowest address byte.

Two's complement arithmetic. Previous machines (even the binary IBM 7090) would encode numbers as sign/magnitude pairs, so for example -3 would be encoded identically to 3 except for the sign bit. Two's complement encoding, now the standard in modern computers, makes it much easier to handle signed arithmetic, by storing -3 as a large power of 2 minus 3.

[cloysterbell]

I had to take my work laptop to IT to get it fixed and when they opened it, they were all shocked that it was running Windows 10, which is apparently no longer supported. So they called over 3 more guys to all ogle at my ridiculously outdated machine and then asked me how on earth I had a laptop this old. You gave it to me??? Do you think I am somehow responsible for my computer being so old it can't run certain software or connect to the mainframe..... babes this is the computer you gave me

[barbwritesstuff]

Play the demo for free!

So, my brain has been really scattered this last month. I’ve had a bunch of editing to do on my prose manuscript (Of Monsters and Mainframes, coming out next year) and I’ve also just had a ton of real life stuff pop up unexpectedly. So, the update this month is only 12k. Which, I’m not going to lie, is a little sucky. I thought I’d got more done than that. However, I’m still happy with the progress I made.

I’ve got Chapter 10 to a tentative first draft (I may do more work on it later, but for now it’s locked), I made some big strides with Chapter 11, AND I got really excited about Chapter 12 and started laying down some words for that. Please let me know what you think.

This game is a big muddle right now and a lot of the scenes I’m adding will only be visible on a few playthroughs which makes progress feel really slow. However, I’m really hoping that’ll make the final game really dynamic and fun.

I hope you get to pop out and see the full moon tonight. It’s the second largest of the year and is looking wonderful.

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

Update Details

As of the 17th of October 2024

Finished Chapter Ten

Continued work on Chapter Eleven

Started work on Chapter Twelve

Additional Words: 12,538 (excluding commands)

Total Word Count: 408,768 (excluding commands)

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

Reminder: If you like what I do and would like to support me (as well as see my progress weekly instead of monthly) I'd be grateful if you'd check out my KoFi.

Thanks so much for reading. 💙

[rabbidrabbitt]

PORTAL/ATSV CROSSOVER!!

Working on a whole story for this but I’ve started off with just finding places for the big three of Portal 2.

Gwen takes the place of Chell. A test subject awoken from cryogenic sleep to a seemingly abandoned facility, but she won’t be the only main test subject roaming the halls of Alchemax.

Olivia/Dr Ock takes the place of GLaDOS. She is an ex scientist merged with a mainframe to create the Octavius computer system. A formerly eccentric scientist turned mad from artificial thoughts and information being pumped in and out of her brain 24/7

And Johnathan/The Spot takes the place of Wheatley. Another ex scientist used to further production of the Octavius system. His only goal after Octavius’ takeover is to escape the facility with the help of Gwen. But he may gain ulterior motives when the opportunity presents itself.

The story for the most part follows that of Portal 2, But I plan to have some of my own elements sprinkled in throughout the story to support a multitude of characters and make things more interesting. I hope you enjoy this so far!! There will be more to come

[eklesia-system]

INTRO: We Are Eklesia

Updated intro post since our first one is a bit outdated. :0 Hi! We're the Eklesia System, AKA Eklesia. Alternately we've considered "the Mosaic System" so Mosaic is an appropriate name for us too. We collectively use they/them and call ourselves masculine nonbinary.

We're a system of 150-200 members and most of us are fictives or sourced. (Be aware that Adam D does not like being called a fictive due to his source.) Not everyone fronts, but everyone is valued here.

Derek Rex attests to have been one of the first headmates, forming at age 6 alongside JJ. We think we're traumagenic, specifically eisotraumagenic (nontypical trauma that isn't the usual prolonged parental abuse), BUT we may well be mixed origins.

Regardless of our own origins though, we're not ones to discriminate based on system origin. ^o^ Peeps is peeps.

---

Here are our CURRENT most active members (as of January 26, 2025); Host and Co-Host roles constantly change so we will not be indicating these here.

Adam V - Self Confidence, Impulse Holder, Judgment Holder, Emotional Protector (16, he/him) 🌈 @adam-the-fictive

Alden - Unknown Role, New and Very Active (28, he/him) 🍪

Alpha - Nonhuman (Dog), Connected to Cirros (he/it) 🐶

Archie - Functional Gatekeeper (50s, he/him) 🎩

Bad Wolf - AKA "Warning", Taker of Responsibility (30ish, he/him) ⚠️

Beccs - Observer, System Mom, Primary Spirit Protector (26, she/they) 🏵

Blindeye - Persecutor, Physical Protector (19, he/him) 🙈

Bluefire - "Fuck All", Spitfire (16, he/it) 👎

Cirros - Endurance, Courage, Guard of Blindeye (18, he/him) 🏷

Derek - Logic, Host of Tree Cutters Sidesystem, Persecutor to some (17, he/stone) ☕️

Dorian - Observer (he/they) 🏜

Duck - Trauma Holder, Mainframe Interface (19, he/him) 🦆

Esau - AKA "Watchful", Fear Holder, Guilt Holder, Trauma Holder (32, he/him) 👀

Evan Wolf Night (EWN) - Obsession Holder, Creative Muse (17-19, he/him) 🌒

Kai Breach - Training Gatekeeper (14, he/him) 🍩

Kai - Trauma Holder, Town Drunk (26, he/him) 🍺

Khaz - Caretaker, Self Love, Task Manager, Sexual Protector (23, he/him) 🦋

Les - Emotional Gatekeeper, System Troll /j (17, he/they) 🦎

Luc - Chef, Social Protector, ADHD Holder (22, he/it) 👽

Phoenix - Primary Memory Holder, System Overseer (16, he/him) 🐓

Puppetmaster - Prankster, Analysis (16, he/him) 🎈

Remy - Emotional Protector and Regulator, System Maintenance, Compassion (16, he/him) 🐙

Sai - Artisan, Observer, Spirit (20, he/him) 🌊

Shadow - Internal Security Chief, Health Manager, Self Control (18, he/him) 🦇

Sibley - Peace, Soother, Median Gatekeeper (15, they/them) ☁️

Sidney/Sid - Truth, Memory Holder, Role Organizer (18, he/they/she) ❄️

Skeet - Escapism, Common Sense (16, he/him) 🏁 @skeetposting

Sleet - Anger Holder, Rebellion, Justice, Protector (19, he/him) 🍊

Snowy - Functional Little, Emotional Support Spatter (any pronouns) 🌨

Vertex - Void Holder, Emotional Protector (24, he/they) 😶

---

Thanks for checking us out. :0 We mostly just reblog stuff that interests us, and talk about whatever we feel like talking about. Usually positive-neutral but there are rants too. Thanks again!

-Eklesia🔱

We have a couple of art blogs to be aware of too: @valarioncy - The Hollow fanworks and human art @cyrokin444 - Our furry and animal art blog (it's sfw :>)

We do commissions!