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exhaslo · 25 days

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Corruption Ch14

(Villain!Miguel x F!Hero!Reader)

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4, Ch5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9, Ch10, Ch11, Ch12, Ch13

Warning: Minors DNI, mentions of sex, violence, blood, murder, twisted thoughts, experimentation, language, wannabe fluff, established friendship/relationship?

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Thirty Days until D-Day

The city was welcomed with a heavy rain storm that had no end in sight. Umbrellas were no match against the fierce winds and downpour that befell the city. The poor citizens who dared to walk got drenched. It was the beginning of an already dreadful day to many.

Aaron groaned and cussed as he scurried into Alchemax, water dripping from every angle. He sighed in relief as a few of the staff members set up automatic heaters and dryers for the employees. Sometimes there were perks for working for Alchemax.

The company cared more about reputation.

Once he was dry, Aaron made sure to clock in. There, he waited for certain people. Once said people arrived, they all casually walked with each other to the elevator. As they all stood in the elevator, each person handed something small to Aaron.

"Thank you all." He whispered upon leaving with another worker.

"This is risky. Do you even know how to do it?" His coworker asked. Aaron frowned as he spotted you grabbing a file from his boss,

"I'll need to work out the details, but I have an idea." He said before smiling towards you, "(Y/N)! How have you been? Feels like forever,"

"Ah, Aaron, yes it has! Have you been busy?" You asked. Aaron couldn't stop smiling,

"You could say so. A lot of newbies trying to play games on computers has us getting rid of viruses." He said with a chuckle and glanced at the file, "What about you?"

"End of month is tomorrow. Just grabbing all of the paperwork from each department so I can file them all. So...exciting." You said with a soft sigh, "Ah! Speaking of time, I have to grab Miguel's coffee!"

"Be careful, it's pouring outside."

Aaron waved towards you as you ran off in a hurry. You were still ever so kind despite Miguel's interference.

"Still going for the boss' girl? Everyone knows that Miguel probably uses her as a stress relief." Aaron's coworker scoffed, "Ain't no way he would let anyone get that close."

"C'mon. She's his assistant. Miguel's too cold hearted to-"

"Use (Y/N)? How many times did he butt in to your flirting? To you trying to ask her out?"

"Shut up, let's just get back to work. Miguel will have what's coming to him eventually."

---------

You were shivering as you cuddled against Miguel's chest. You were in your underwear, wrapping in a thick blanket as you sat on Miguel's lap in his office. Your clothes were drying in the corner, since Miguel demanded you come up to him in a hurry.

"I told you the coffee could wait," Miguel grumbled as you sneezed.

"Y-You're grumpy...w-without it,"

"At the cost of you getting sick? It can wait. I can always send someone else to get it." Miguel said with a scoff, his arm tightening around your waist, "And you didn't even dry off downstairs."

"Y-You told me to hurry! So I climbed the window," You said with a whine, "Can't...Can't I just wear my spare clothes? This is...embarrassing."

"I've seen you naked already." Miguel said unamused then glanced towards you, "Or did the oh so powerful Spider-Woman want to get sick? To have me care for her?"

"N-No," You said with a pout.

Miguel was so mean when he wanted to be. Watching him chuckle made your heart melt. He can be as mean as he wants, just as long as you get to see him enjoy himself. Cuddling back into his chest, you inhaled, enjoying his cologne.

---------

Miguel waited for you to fall asleep before pulling up his security footage of one of the labs. Miguel had a small team of scientists handling your blood injections towards test subjects. As much as Miguel wished to be there in person, he needed to keep distracting you from the city.

Besides, none of those scientists knew what they were giving to the new test subjects. None of them would live to even tell the tale of Miguel's success.

"Sir, now conducting test subject number eight." One of the scientists spoke to the camera.

Eight.

It took eight attempts so far. There was always something wrong with something. Miguel was getting frustrated, but he had to keep going. This was the only way he could get what he wanted. This was the only way to get his dream.

"Mhpm," You whimpered in your sleep.

Pulling up his calendar, Miguel checked on your ovulation. With a roll of his eyes, Miguel noticed that you were about to start your period. It was right about now that your cramps would start to kick in. As frustrating as it was, this was needed.

By your next ovulation, Miguel will be perfect.

He will finally be able to give you what you've been waiting for.

What he's been waiting for.

But, in the meantime, Miguel had work to do. Ordering some heat pads and chocolate, Miguel made sure to take care of you during your period. You were his perfect trophy. Miguel couldn't have you down in the dumps.

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Twenty Days Until D-Day

Yet again, the rain did not let up. According to the forecast, it was to rain like this for the rest of the week. You were debating on swinging to work, but with this rain...no. You didn't want to end up sick. Miguel would never let you go out again.

"Hm, I need to get to work." You whispered, looking at the time.

Rubbing your arms, you let out a whine as you tried to think. Normally, Miguel would give you a ride, but today he had to arrive to work earlier than normal. Apparently his father had some meetings he wanted Miguel to go too.

"Would Miguel mind if I stay home?"

"He would," Lyla appeared, "Miguel is already showing signs of extreme stress and frustration. Without you, I can conclude that by noon, he might kill someone."

"Oh, Lyla, you jest." You chuckled lowly before stopping, "Miguel won't kill anyone."

But you knew how Miguel got when he was angry. Miguel was never too fond of his own father, especially when dragged to these meetings. Honestly, it was cute. Miguel was like a spoiled child, not wanting to do work.

Leaving your apartment, you sighed as you still wondered how you were going to get to work without getting soaked. It was still Fall in Nueva York, but it felt like winter already to you. Oh, the downside of having Spider DNA.

"Hey, (Y/N)! Need a ride?" Aaron asked, stopping his cab. You gasped, hurrying over,

"Oh! Thank you, Aaron, you're a life savor!"

"Sure," Aaron smiled as he opened the door for you. You shivered slightly when entering, thanking him again, "It's really no problem. Luck even, guess I just happen to pass your place at the right time."

"You sure did."

You hummed happily as you texted Miguel, asking if he wanted his morning coffee. As you were waiting for his reply, you glanced over at Aaron,

"So, it's been...raining a lot. Might be a colder winter than normal."

"So we have to make sure your office is a furnace." He said with a chuckle, "Getting coffee for our dictator today?"

"Ah-" You felt your cheeks flush as you just checked your phone, "Guess not. He won't let me get it when it rains like this. Hehe, Miguel does have his little soft side," You chirped.

Aaron felt his eye twitch, "It's amazing how you can still see the best in him."

"It could be because I'm his assistant?" You tried to dodge the question since no one knew about your relationship with Miguel, "Um, I think everyone just needs to give Miguel a chance. I'm sure-"

"I rather not. If he makes me his errand boy anymore, I might quit." Aaron huffed then glanced at you, "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt or be sour. We've....just been up to our necks with work."

"It's okay,"

You lowered your head, remaining silent for the rest of the ride. It was hard to express your vision of Miguel to others. Once you arrived, you thanked Aaron again for the lift and hurried inside.

--------

Aaron paid the fair and slowly made his way inside. He watched you from a distance, paying attention to your watch as Lyla appeared. Miguel was always listening to you. He always paid attention to who you were with.

A controlling bastard.

Aaron just smiled as he went to clock in, hoping that Miguel will play the petty game. The only problem about this game Aaron was playing was you getting caught in the fire. Aaron was going to have to make sure you were nowhere near Miguel when he acts.

--------

You stood in front of Miguel's large office window, staring down at the city below. Miguel was still in his meetings, sending you a text here and there about stupid little things. It made you chuckle at some of the nitpicking he was doing.

"Hehe, ew. Miguel must really be bored if he is paying attention to the food stuck in someone's teeth," You giggle.

Glancing at his seat, you bit your lower lip. Miguel was going to be a while until he returned. Stroking your fingers against the arm rest, you let out a soft sigh as you took your seat on his desk. Miguel will be waiting for you.

You had to be a good girl and take your spot.

"Don't keep me waiting too long, Miggy~"

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Next Chapter

@tojishugetiddies @miguelsfavwife @foulsharkheart @club-danger-zone @ivkygirly @jollystrawberrycycle @amber-content @weirdothatwritess @smartyren @mangoslushcrush @nyxzoldyck6 @migueloharastruelove @sukioyakio @killjoy-nightshadow @heyohalie @the-pan-liquid @bokutosprettylittlebimbo @kpopscoups17130000 @pochapo @killerwendigo @barbiecrocs @miss-galaxy-turtle @oscarissac2099 @lazy-idate @lauraolar14 @safixiovi @migueloharacumslut @straw-berry-ghoul @daisy-artfield @sukunash0e @undf-stuff @iamperson12280 @nightingale1011 @reader-1290 @mcmiracles @keepghostly @marlyharper @jadeloverxd @daddyfroglegs @shoukanjo

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara smut #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel x you #miguel spiderverse #miguel x y/n #miguel x reader

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goodwhump-temp · 5 months

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Shawn Spencer Whump | Psych

1x02 Spellingg Bee - Motorcycle crash, hospital, knee brace, limp, bumps into bin, pain 1x03 Woman Seeking Dead Husband - Held at gunpoint x2 1x05 Lives - Held at gunpoint 1x06 Weekend Warriors - Held at gunpoint 1x15 Scary Sherry - Nightmare

2x02 65 Million Years Off - Shot at, scared 2x03 Psy vs Psy - Hostage 2x04 Zero to Murder in 60s - Brief boo-boo (chair race sabatoged) 2x05 And Down the Stretch... - Childhood bully 2x07 If You're So Smart... - Bullied by children 2x09 Bounty Hunters! - Handcuffed, jumps off boat, held at gunpoint 2x13 Lights, Camera… - Nearly nailed to death (38:00), character funeral 2x15 Black and Tan - Sad (18:30) 2x16 Shawn (and Gus) of the Dead - Mummy 'curse'

3x01 Ghosts - [Flashback; emo/arrested] Increasingly angry about mothers' return, confrontation, heartbroken 3x04 Greatest Adventure in the History of Basic Cable - Shot at, chased x3, restrained, held at helicopter-point and gunpoint, betrayed 3x06 There Might Be Blood - Held at gunpoint, dangerous confrontation 3x08 Gus Walks Into A Bank - Held back, worried, bank hostage, tight gus hug, manhandled 3x10 Six Feet Under the Sea - Held at gunpoint 3x11 Lassie Did a Bad, Bad Thing - Punched unconscious, hostage, held at gunpoint, pistol whipped, fatherly care, nearly passes out (40:15) 3x12 Earth, Wind And… - Runs into burning building, oxygen mask, held at firepoint, caught in burning building, briefly thought dead, coughing/smoke inhalation 3x13 Any Given Friday Night at 10PM - 'Abducted' 3x14 Truer Lies - Held at gunpoint 3x15 Tuesday the 17th - 'Trips', held at 'knifepoint' 3x16 An Evening with Mr. Yang - Angry, mom held hostage, scared, heartbroken

4x01 Extradition: British Colombia - Held at gunpoint x2 4x02 He Dead - Daddy issues 4x03 High Noon-ish - Stampede/pushed, falls into mineshaft, pain, held at gunpoint, trapped 4x04 Devil is in the Details… - Confession 4x05 Shawn Gets the Yips - Scared/dumb ("bomb" on treadmill) 4x06 Bollywood Homicide - Slapped (39:15) 4x07 High Top Fade Out - Held at gunpoint, shot at 4x09 Shawn Takes A Shot in the Dark - Shot, abducted/missing, bleeding, pain, knocked unconscious, choked, jumps on moving car, weak, sling 4x10 You Can't Handle This Episode - Shot at 4x12 A Very Juliet Episode - Held at gunpoint, punched x2, knocked down x2, kicked 4x16 Mr. Yin Presents - Nightmare, angry, heartbroken x2, fatherly love

5x01 Romeo & Juliet & Juliet - Held at gunpoint, falls through window, kicked through wall, insane dodging skillz, knocked down, sore 5x03 Not Even Close, Encounters - Held at gunpoint/abducted by 'aliens' 5x04 Chivalry is Not Dead - Hanging upside down (tomato face), poisoned, collapse, hospital, unconscious 5x07 Ferry Tale - Held at gunpoint x2, hostage, kicked in the face, tear gas inhalation, restrained, trips/tumbles down a hill 5x09 One, Maybe Two, Ways Out - Seriously heartbroken 5x12 Dual Spires - Trapped in burning house 5x13 We'd Like to Thank the Academy - Held at gunpoint x2 5x16 Yang 3 in 2D - Held at shotgunpoint, scared

6x01 Shawn Rescues Darth Vader - Jumps off roof 6x02 Last Night Gus - Hungover, stressed, jumps from balcony, shot at 6x04 Amazing Psych-Man & Tap-Man - Trips, found unconscious, punched, kicked x2, thrown, sand to the eye, exhausted 6x06 Shawn Interrupted - Mental patient, hands covered, knocked unconscious, restrained, held at gunpoint 6x09 Neil Simons Lover Retreat - Robbed, heartbroken x2 (29:35), smile through the pain (42:00) 6x10 Indiana Shawn and the Temple - Hand stuck, slapped, manhandled, held at gunpoint, 'crying' 6x13 Let's Doo-Wap it Again - Appendicitis, collapse, hospital drama-queen, held at gunpoint, drugged, drugs wear off, le rigor mortis, le pain, le kitty cat! 6x16 Santabarbaratown - Held at knifepoint, knocked unconscious, black-eye

7x01 Santabarbaratown 2 - Scared, angry, thrown, active mine, held at gunpoint x3, Lassie love 7x02 Juliet Takes A Luvvah - Traumatized (27:00) 7x03 Lassie Jerky - Shot at, held at gunpoint 7x04 No Country For Two Old Men - Held at gunpoint 7x06 Cirque Du Soul - Pain from pull-ups 7x07 Deez Nups - Huge confession, heartbroken 7x08 Right Turn Or Left For Dead - Insomnia, regret, depressed, head slammed into glass, bruise, concussion, denial, stabbed, nearly hit by truck, headache, tackled 7x11 Office Space - Poked x2, trips, bloody nose, scared, framed 7x14 No Trout About It - Painful yoga, choked, fired

8x01 Lock, Stock… - Held at gunpoint, "restrained" 8x05 COG Blocked - Jumpscared out of hammock, painful poke, body decked by cane, held at gunpoint 8x07 Shawn & Gus Truck Things Up - Hand squeezed painfully 8x09 Nightmare on State Street - Slapped, zombie 8x10 The Break-Up - Nervous, held at gunpoint, shot at, emotional

#whump #emotional whump #whump list #whumplist #psych #psych whump #shawn spencer #shawn spencer whump #james roday #james roday whump #shawn spencer whumplist #psych tv

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ahsoka-in-a-hood · 10 months

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I see that joke about obi wan not noticing anakin's mental illness because of his undiagnosed depression and it is funny, but i thinking about it, I do think Obi Wan was basically aware of a lot of Anakin's struggles with emotional regulation and stuff and generally was willing to make certain accomodations. Like, I'm not saying he was perfectly attuned and always responded in the ideal way, but. I do read him as trying, and that his ultimately misplaced faith in Anakin in RotS wasn't blindness, it was just... faith. He knew Anakin pretty well, knew he was under stress, knew he didn't like the situation with Palpatine, and in deleted scenes and the novel he was aware of Padme and had decided not to interfere, he knew Anakin was a bit ambitious- it feels more like he knew all these things, and made a choice to trust in him anyway.

Idk, i might be projecting a little, because i know what it's like with neurodivergence in the family- both sides of it. I can't imagine they managed their whole apprenticeship without Anakin flying off the handle at some point, among other things, even if that didn't result in murders at the time. It's just, you know. Being aware that someone struggles at times doesn't mean you can make the struggles go away easily. It's not like support and therapy are magic bullets. I do think that. For the most part. Anakin and Obi Wan both did try really hard for each other. And maybe that in itself sometimes got in the way.

#i could tell you about my day and what prompted this but tbh it's embarassing

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unseededtoast · 8 months

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One Bright Morning | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Summary: After experiencing the most traumatic moment of your life, Spencer helps guide you through the darkness into one bright morning that changes the both of you. (Based off of "First Light" by Hozier)

Cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3

Word count: 8.8k

Warnings: Violence, angst, light smut. Poorly edited

a/n: Howdy y'all, this is my second Spencer oneshot based off a Hozier song and honestly at this point i think i might just create a Spencer fic for every song on Unreal Unearth. Anyways, here's my masterlist if you wanna check out my other stuff:)

"Hello?" You hear his voice as the door swings open, and the soft lighting from inside his apartment illuminates his figure as if he's an angel.

"Please." Is all you can say through your cries and he wastes no time before he's helping you inside of his apartment.

Your forehead is slick with sweat, your stomach tied into knots as you pace back and forth. Shaking hands push away the hair falling into your face and you know you have to do something soon, or the little girl is going to die. Your mind swims in all the information the team has collected about the unsub so far, trying to identify any leverage you can use in a last ditch effort to save the hostage's life.

"Does anybody have anything?" Your voice is thick with stress and tension, a bead of sweat rolls down your back. The quick pitter patter of your heart echoes in your ears and it's almost like a ticking time bomb.

"We've tried every angle we can think of." Morgan answers, equally as stressed out. But you can't accept that answer, there has to be something.

"What if I go in? Offer myself for her? He might think he can use me to get out of this situation." You're already taking off your bulletproof vest to carry out the mission, but Hotch puts a hand on your shoulder to stop you from taking it all the way off.

"No, it's too risky. We know he's suffering from hallucinations and if you walk in there he might just kill you." He explains, but you fight his hand off your shoulder. Maybe it's just the adrenaline pumping through your veins, but you can't understand why the team isn't doing more to save the girl.

"And if we don't do anything she's for sure going to die." Before he can protest, you shove your vest into his hands and make your way to the house across the street.

The team had tried to negotiate with the unsub, feeding him false promises of a safe getaway and immunity, but he hadn't taken them. He explained that in order for the victims soul's to be saved, they had to die before they could "commit an unforgivable sin". He's convinced he's saving their souls, but what he's actually doing is mutilating young girls in their own homes and leaving their bodies for their families to find. Unfortunately for him, you and the rest of the team had interrupted his salvation of this girl and unfortunately for the team, he had taken the girl hostage and is unwilling to let her go.

The house he's blockaded himself in is a typical, unassuming suburban home. The landscaping is manicured to perfection, the lawn is trimmed neatly, but behind the white door is a deranged murderer with a knife to an eight year old's throat. Your feet quickly carry you to the door and with heavy, shaky breaths, you knock on the door and speak to the unsub.

"I want to be saved." You tell him, hoping to appeal to his delusion. There's a loud crash in the house and you hear the girl cry out.

"Please, I want to be saved." You say with more urgency. Twisting the handle of the door, you slowly make your way in, not seeing the unsub or the little girl anywhere in immediate view. After a few seconds of silence, you hear the girl's muffled cries.

"I know you can save me. Please, help me." You beg, making your way towards the sound. As you round the corner into the kitchen, you see the unsub holding the knife directly over the girl's carotid artery. Your eyes dance from the blade to the psychopath holding it and see nothing but pure evil within him.

"Don't move another step. I know you're one of them." He yanks the girl back, further into his hold and you put your hands out in front of you to show him you're unarmed. Your head shakes, denying his claim.

"They're wrong. They don't understand the mission." Another small step is taken towards the man, and for a second you see his resolve starting to falter.

"No, they don't. I'm just trying to save them!" He cries out, seeming to be in agony. Another step is taken towards him. You're only ten feet away from him, if things keep going well you might just be able to get the girl from his grasp.

"Save me. Please, I want to be saved." You boldly take two more steps forward but freeze on the spot when he jerks back with the girl, pressing the blade more tightly to her neck.

"You can't be saved. No, not you. You've already committed an unforgivable sin. But she can still be saved. Yes, she can still be saved." His gaze moves from you to the crying girl, his voice becoming more stable.

You see a sick smirk crawl its way onto the man's face, and he glances at you from the corner of his eye before he readjusts his grip on the blade. As if time suddenly begins moving in slow motion, you see him tilt his head back like he's experiencing euphoria and his arm makes one clean swiping motion. Reaching out in a last ditch effort, you try to still his motion, but it's too late. You were too late.

Your body knocks into the man's and sends him tumbling to the ground. The fountain of blood released from the girl's neck splatters your face, she chokes and gurgles as she falls to the floor. Ignoring the man, you collapse beside the girl, holding your hands to her neck in a frenzied attempt of saving her life. You get tunnel vision, the only thing you can see is the girl and how the light slowly dims in her eyes.

At some point, you must have screamed out and alerted the others, because several pairs of hands are dragging you away from the girl. You fight them with all the strength you have left, reaching out for her small body, desperately trying to help her as her crimson blood drips through your fingers.

A team of EMTs rushes into the house past you and you see them leaning over the girl before you're taken away from the scene. You feel your chest tighten, your heartbeat race, and you're not able to form a coherent thought. All that consumes your mind is the little girl and how you were right there. You were right there and you still weren't able to save her.

-----

Days later you walk back into the office, running on maybe five hours of sleep since the incident. You had been given instructions to take three days off before coming back in and you know the team had to deal with the fallout of your shortcoming. In fact, you walked in with your badge and gun in hand, fully prepared to be suspended.

The atmosphere in the office is noticeably tense. Everyone is quiet with their heads down doing their jobs. Without greeting your team like normal, you duck your head and make a straight route towards your desk, trying to make as little sound as possible when you take your seat. Placing your gun and badge beside your computer, you see a single file laying on your desk. There are usually about ten.

Trying your best to keep your composure, you open the file and are met with a blank incident report. Unable to think about filling it out, all you can do is blink back at the white paper. What do they expect you to say? Thankfully, you're ripped from going down that rabbit hole by a hand touching your shoulder. Looking over, you see Hotch with a somber look on his face.

"Why don't you follow me?" His voice is quiet, and you agree wordlessly, following him into his office. As you walk through the office, you try to commit it to memory just in case this is your last day here.

Once you reach Hotch's office, you take a seat in front of his desk and wait for him to say something. You're keenly aware that you deserve to be suspended and reprimanded for you actions, or lack thereof, seeing as how you blatantly ignored orders.

"None of us blame you." His words shock your system, eyebrows drawing tightly together and lips falling apart in confusion.

"But-" You try to condemn yourself, but he holds up a finger to stop your words.

"All of us here have lost someone. Some more than others. It comes with the territory of the job, this is only your second year and you have a lot to learn. But with that said, you did ignore orders to not engage. For that, we cannot let you back in the field until you're deemed fit again. You're to stay here and help from the office while we go to case sites." Your mouth feels dry as he speaks, and you can't understand why your punishment isn't more harsh. An eight year old girl died because of you and all you're getting is a slap on the wrist?

"But-" You try to convince him again that you deserve worse, but he cuts you off again.

"Don't say anything. Go back to your desk and do your job." He orders you away, and this time you listen to him. Your walk back to your desk is a blur, mind fuzzy with questions you don't have the answer to. You feel several pairs of eyes on you, but you ignore them and go back to staring at the blank white paper that waits for you.

-----

Hours pass by, and you've made no progress on the report. You thought that maybe a change of scenery would help, and so you relocated to the break room with only the paper and a single pen. The team is already preparing to leave on their next assignment, and all except you and Spencer are going. Spencer had volunteered to stay behind and help Garcia, which he did on occasion.

You hear the team approaching the break room, preparing to leave, and so you quickly grab the pen and act like you're writing something useful. They come in and grab last minute snacks, telling you that they'll be back in a few days and you give them the best smile you can muster and watch with a tired soul as they walk out to catch the next monster.

"You know that's not true, right?" A voice behind you startles you, causing you to jump and drag a line of black ink across the paper. Spencer is standing behind you, coffee cup in hand.

"What?" You ask, not having the slightest idea of what he means. He takes a seat beside you at the table, his eyes locked onto the paper you had been scribbling your thoughts on.

"What you're writing. It's not true." You look from his face down to the paper to see what exactly you wrote. You're not entirely sure yourself.

She died right in front of me because I was slow. I was too slow and she's gone. She was right there. Right there.

The words accurately reflect the rhetoric that's been repeating itself inside your mind around the clock. You can't seem to find the lie he so obviously sees. You've been working with Spencer for two years now, and his mind still amazes you. But even geniuses are wrong sometimes. With a shake of your head, you bite the inside of your cheek and stare at the words.

"It's exactly what happened though." You confess, clearly remembering how the man had time to enjoy slitting the girl's throat. And you were still too slow.

"You tried to feed into his delusions, it was the only play we had left. And you were probably the best one to approach him, seeing as how you most closely resembled his victims." He explains with a wave of his free hand. Your eyes meet his and you see that he's being sincere. You've never been good at expressing your emotions, and so you try to deflect the ones bubbling up inside you.

"Spencer, are you saying I look like a ten year old girl?" You know he's only trying to help you deal with your fresh trauma, but you can't help yourself from making the comment. Used to your antics, his mouth flattens into a straight line.

"You do not look like a ten year old girl but seeing as how you're the youngest one on the team it was the best we shot we had." He follows up his explanation. You appreciate the effort he's making to make you feel better, you just wish it worked. With a sigh, you crumple the paper up and toss it across the room, barely missing the trash can.

"Don't say anything, I'm getting it." You preemptively dismiss the comment you know he's about to make. No matter how many times you try to sink a paper ball into the trash, you always end up missing somehow, and Spencer is always there to keep track of just how many you've missed.

"One hundred forty three." He quickly says before quickly moving out of the break room. A ghost of a smile finds its way onto your face and you pick up the pen you left on the table, going to search for a new report page.

-----

Unfortunately, by the end of the day, the report still had not been completed. You're unable to look at this case objectively, and you entertain the idea of asking Spencer to do it for you. But that would still mean you have to tell him what happened, and you know there's no chance those words can find their way out of your mouth.

The clock on the wall indicates that the work day is over, and so you close the blank paper inside the brown folder, vowing that tomorrow you will finish it. You don't want to stay here, but you also don't want to go home. But you guess it doesn't matter, no matter where you are you know the nightmares will find you in the dark.

Everyone leaves the office, save for you and Spencer, who's working over to finish his case backlog. Though in your two years here you've never known him to have a backlog. His insane memory is always allowing him to fly through reports three times faster than the rest of the team. But you're too tired, physically and emotionally, to delve into why he has a backlog now.

Realizing you've been staring at your desk for the past thirty minutes, you decide you can't stay here overnight. Standing from your desk you rub the drowsiness from your eyes and weakly smile to Spencer, who looked over to see what you were doing.

"See you bright and early." Your voice is soft as you push your chair back in.

"Wait, let me at least walk you out to your car. It's dark out there now." He says, standing from his own desk. You shake your head, not wanting to inconvenience him.

"That's okay Spencer, I'll be fine. But thank you." You try to dismiss him, but he's already got his jacket slung over his shoulders.

"I was just finishing up anyways." He says, and you're skeptical of how much of his statement is the truth. But you don't fight it, and let him accompany you to your car. After hours the office is eerily quiet, and you find yourself being thankful he wanted to walk you out.

"At least let me take you home, as a thank you." You say as you two walk out of the office doors into the parking lot. The chilly fall air infiltrates the thin shirt you're wearing, your breath evaporating in the air in a translucent white cloud.

"Sure, thank you." He says with a smile and the two of you climb into your car.

Spencer gives you directions to his apartment and you find out he only lives two blocks away from you. How you had never known this is a mystery. But had you have known you would've made the effort to offer him a ride more often. You park your car just outside of the building and look over at him, his hazel eyes illuminated beautifully by the amber glow of the streetlamp.

"I live just down the street." You break the silence as he unbuckles the seatbelt.

"And after all this time we've never seen each other outside of work." He points out and you smile,

"Well, this counts, right?" He lets out a small laugh and goes to open the door, but stops short of swinging it open. His lips open and close a few times, like he can't decide what he wants to say before he looks deep into your eyes once more, like he can see your mind through your pupils.

"You know, if it ever gets to be too much to deal with, you can tell me. I know how torturous thoughts can become." You're at a loss for words, but manage to nod your head. Spencer isn't known for openly extending empathy to very many people, in fact, you've only seen him do it twice so far. It's a break from the normal dynamic you two share and it throws you off for a second.

"Yeah, thank you." You say as he opens the door, leaving your passenger seat. He waves goodbye before he enters the building and you make sure he gets in before leaving for your own apartment, his words lingering in your head. What had happened to him to be able to understand such torment?

-----

A girl cries in front of you, her crimson tears flowing down her face and puddling on the floor. She's begging you to help her, to save her. Each time she's within reach, she slips right through your fingers and her agonizing screams ring inside your head.

Just like last night, and the night before that, and the night before that, you're awoken with a start. Panicked eyes stare down at your hands, expecting to see them coated in a thick layer of bright red blood, only to find that they've been scrubbed clean. In fact, they've been scrubbed so viciously that there are scratches from your nails evident on your knuckles.

Your head falls into your hands and you take in a shaky breath. The clock on your bedside table shows you that you've only managed to get two hours of sleep. But hey, it's more than last night so you guess you can't complain. Dragging yourself out of bed, you decide to get a shower, knowing that you're not going back to sleep.

As the scalding water trickles over your body, your mind is once again a chaotic mess. The girl's screams echo in your mind accompanied with questions about your effectiveness as an agent. If you were unable to save a girl within your reach, how good of an agent can you really be? How many more people will die as a result of your incompetence? Dwelling on that answer is almost enough to send you into an episode, but the hot water runs out and the cold shocks your system.

You step out and wrap yourself in a towel, but are unable to shake the thoughts away that easily. If you couldn't save that girl, how many do you expect to save? If you couldn't save her, then you won't be able to save others. And if that's the case, why are you still on the team? Your purpose is to protect and save people who are targeted by deranged killers, and if you can't fulfill that purpose, then what exactly are you doing? Wouldn't it just be better to give up your spot for someone who's more competent? Someone who can actually save people?

Your body moves as if it's been put on autopilot as you get ready for the day, hours earlier than what is necessary. Instead of holing up like a prisoner in your own home, you pull your shoes on and grab your keys, deciding to go for a walk and then head into work early.

It's still too early out for most people to be heading into work, so the streets are practically yours for now. A dense fog has settled across the roads and the crickets chirp all around. It's almost serene. Your feet begin wandering down streets with no real path or destination in mind, the coolness of the air helps keep you awake.

For about an hour you meander the streets until the clock on your phone shows that it's almost time to leave for work. When you reach your car, your gaze freezes on your passenger seat. Though you commute to work alone every day, the car feels empty now.

You don't drive yourself to work right away. Instead, you find yourself parked outside of Spencer's building, waiting for him to walk out so you can offer him a ride. It doesn't take long before he's walking towards your car, confusion clear on his face.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, opening the passenger door and getting in.

"I just figured you might enjoy a break from public transit." You smile softly at him before merging into traffic and taking the two of you to work.

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence for the remainder of the trip and once you park in front of the office building, you stop him from getting out by reaching a hand over the middle console and resting it on his bicep.

"How did you know that I was having bad thoughts?" Your voice is raw and you're sure you look exhausted. You're sure if your superiors found out about these thoughts that your punishment would be extended, but you're far too curious. He sighs,

"Persistent intrusive thoughts about a traumatic event are common. In fact, these thoughts can lead to insomnia and a change in normal daily functions." He explains like he's reading the words straight from a textbook. But you know it's more than that, it has to be. The way he offered his help yesterday was more reminiscent of someone who's lived through something similar. Empathy cannot be learned from a book.

"Right. Do they ever go away?" You don't push him to give you any answers about his own trauma, but you desperately want to know that these thoughts will eventually go away. Spencer glances down at your hand gripping his jacket,

"Sometimes they leave for a while. But, they don't ever leave forever." His answer is not what you had hoped for, but you know he wouldn't lie to you. You release him from your grip and clear your throat, turning your car off and getting out.

You know if the roles were reversed that you would suggest he seek out professional help. It's only the most logical way to deal with this sort of thing, but you know that you can't face a doctor and tell them about how you relive that girl's death every night. They'd surely diagnose you with something and you'd be kicked off the team.

But maybe being dismissed from this job would be the best thing for you. If you're unable to move on from this incident, how can you expect to function like everything is fine? And if something like this happens again, what will happen? Will you crumble completely?

As you step into the elevator, you can't help but wonder if the loss is worth it. Not only the loss of victims, but the loss of yourself as well. You feel the change within you, like a piece of you is fractured beyond repair.

Spencer and you part ways and begin your workload for the day. The blank white paper still waits for you. ----- The rest of the team had made it to the next site and had called Spencer and Garcia for their help. Of course, you used this as an excuse to abandon the report on your desk, insisting that you can be of some help to them. They're both geniuses and you know there's nothing you can do that they can't, but they let you join them anyways.

"Look for white males, aged twenty to forty, who recently experienced a severe head trauma." Derek speaks through the speaker and you watch in amazement at how fast Garcia is able to filter through hospital records.

"I've got one. Sending it over now." She drags and drops the file into a message and sends it off to the team.

"What would I do without you, baby girl?" You can practically hear Morgan's smile through the phone. His playful ways with Garcia had landed everyone in a presentation about inappropriate work relationships last year and you can clearly see they disregarded every piece of information shared there.

The phone clicks and goes silent, leaving the three of us crammed into Garcia's office and you can't help but feel like you're inconveniencing her and Spencer. You stand from your seat and dismiss yourself, telling them you're going to work on a report and to holler if they need you. You know they won't, but at least you offered.

Sitting back down at your desk, you grab your pen and convince yourself that you're going to write at least one good sentence. You need to have this done by the time Hotch gets back and at this rate you won't even have it done by Christmas.

Taking a deep breath, you tap the pen against the desk before putting it to the paper. You hold it there for so long that an ink blob begins bleeding through the document, and so you start moving it across the paper.

At approximately 4:47 pm EST on October 16, 2023 the Behavioral Analysis Unit from Quantico, Virginia, responded to a hostage situation that resulted in two deaths.

You stare at the sentence you had managed to write and wonder if you can just leave the report as is. Technically it is what happened. But you know that you have to fill in the details. Perhaps that part of it can wait just a little longer.

Deciding you've put in all the effort you can manage for now without slipping into another downward spiral or gruesome memories, you decide to go waste some time in the break room.

There's not much to do, but you make it seem like organizing the coffee mugs in the cupboard is the most vital mission you've encountered to date. And thankfully it keeps your mind distracted from everything falling apart inside your mind.

-----

Garcia and Spencer don't call on you to help them for the rest of the day, much to your dismay. You were hoping they'd at least take pity on you and let you do something insignificant. But perhaps they don't even trust you with the most menial tasks.

You sit at your desk at the end of the day and see others leave the offices, bidding each other goodbye for the weekend. The rest of the team will be back on Monday and you still only have one sentence written in your report that's sure to exceed ten pages if you do it correctly.

"Hey, staying late again?" You hear Spencer ask as he returns from Garcia's office. Spinning around in your seat to face him, you nod your head.

"Yeah." You reply without much enthusiasm, glancing back at the paper. He must think you're completely inadequate at your job because you've been unable to complete a single report in two days. If he's been secretly tasked with keeping tabs on your progress for Hotch, surely there is no good news to report.

"Why don't you take it with you? Work on it over the weekend?" He suggests, and it's not a bad idea. It would surely beat sticking around an empty office all weekend. But truthfully, you're not sure an empty house will be much better.

"You're probably right." You pick up the file and get ready to leave the office with Spencer, who has his belongings in his arms. The two of you walk down to the parking lot and he starts heading towards the bus station.

"Hey, I can take you." You offer, stopping him in his tracks. He looks between you and your car, almost like he's not sure if he should take you up on your offer. But eventually, he walks over and takes a seat in the passenger seat.

"Thank you." He says, fastening his seatbelt. You back out of the parking spot and make your way towards his apartment. Thankfully he says nothing about the fact you took the longest route possible.

"Any fun weekend plans?" You ask him as you pull up to the curb, stalling to keep here as long as possible, so that you're not left alone with your mind. He rests back in the seat slightly and puffs out some air as he shakes his head.

"What's fun for me doesn't always fit other people's definition." There's a small smirk on his face and you know he's either about to devour an entire book series in two days or learn an entirely new skill. He's always looking for ways to expand his knowledge, and you admire that about him.

"Well, as long as you enjoy it then who cares?" You shoot back, watching as he gathers his bag up in his hands and opens the door.

"Apparently our coworkers. But thank you for the ride, see you Monday." He bids you goodbye and you watch as he walks into the building. You don't leave for your home right away, instead you lean your forehead against the steering wheel and become frustrated with yourself. Since when are you scared of being alone with your own thoughts?

-----

"Save me. Save me. Save me. SAVE ME!" The girl screams in your face, blood dripping out from her mouth and onto your body. Your hands desperately try to stop the bleeding, but it's no use and soon her chanting ceases and she crumples to the floor. Her dull eyes stare widely at the ceiling and you're left covered in her blood. You're acutely aware of how it's sinking into the crevices of your skin, drying in your hair, becoming part of you.

Just like every night for the past week you awake from the nightmare. A sheer layer of sweat covers your body and you can't take it anymore. These nightmares are driving you out of your mind. You haven't slept for more than three hours straight over the past week and you start feeling like you'd do anything to be released from your own thoughts.

You push yourself out of bed and into your bathroom where you splash cool water on your face. You're well aware that you're getting into a very bad headspace, and being alone is doing nothing to help the situation. If you keep heading down this path with no help, there's no saying how much of yourself you will lose. Or what your thoughts will drive you to do.

Bloodshot eyes stare back at you in the mirror and you hardly recognize yourself. The dark circles under your eyes make you look like a cheap halloween decoration, your cheeks are sullen. You look miserable. You are miserable. Tearing your gaze away from yourself, you put some decent clothes on and grab your keys off the dining room table.

The air outside is crisp, dew gently rests on the blades of grass and the moonlight illuminates the sidewalks. The nocturnal animals sing their songs, their tunes carrying throughout the night. You almost feel a part of them, the nighttime animals, as you just meander the streets for another night with no destination set.

You turn down an empty street and hear the thumping of music approaching from the main road. Probably teenagers enjoying their weekend night without parental supervision. The music gets closer and closer and you see their headlights start casting a shadow of yourself on the sidewalk.

"Catch!" You hear a boy yell from the car out of the window, and you turn to see what's going on.

Before you can process what's happening, you feel something collide with your chest and your skin becomes wet. Looking down you see that they had thrown a drink at you, some sort of syrupy mess but you're not concerned with what it is; just what it looks like. Dark red syrup covers your hands and your shirt and you can't stop yourself from starting to hyperventilate.

Your chest begins rapidly heaving, your hands start shaking and it feels like your knees are going to give out. It looks too real, and it's on your skin. It's seeping into your skin and it's on your clothes. And it's on your face and in your hair. It's everywhere.

"No, no, no no no no.." Your repeat to yourself, trying to rid your skin of the syrup, but all it does it smear and glide across your skin, spreading itself all over you. Your nails claw at your hands trying to get rid of it but it just won't leave. Panicked tears fall from your eyes and you look around, seeing that you're all alone in the middle of the street.

Without thinking, you start moving towards a familiar building. Your body is on autopilot and it feels as if you're practically flying down the street. It could've taken you twenty minutes to get there, but it felt like five seconds. Once you're on the doorstep your sticky, red-laden fist knocks on the door. You can hear your rattling breaths as if it's from a distance and your vision begins to contort, making you dizzy. You knock again, having enough knowledge that you need him to open the door before something worse happens.

"Hello?" You hear his voice as the door swings open, and the soft lighting from inside his apartment illuminates his figure as if he's an angel.

"Please." Is all you can say through your cries and he wastes no time before he's helping you inside of his apartment.

He takes the jacket off your shoulders and helps you step out of your shoes, a vivid look of worry plastered all over his face.

"What happened?" His voice is concerned as he places his hand on your back, leading you into the kitchen. He wets a cloth and gently starts to wipe the red from your trembling hands. With each pass of the cloth, your skin regains its natural color and you feel your breathing begin to level back out. It's leaving your skin, it's washing off.

"I was outside and someone threw something. And then I don't know what happened, it's like my brain just snapped and I couldn't control myself, all I knew is that I had to get here." You try to explain it to him the best way you can, still feeling an adrenaline buzz. You half expect him to give you some clinical diagnosis, but he remains quiet.

His warm hand envelopes one of yours as he wipes the remaining syrup from your arms. Your face starts to feel stiff from the drying tears, and your eyes move from your skin to Spencer's face, who is standing less than a foot away, tenderly cleansing your skin. Guilt washes over you as you realize that you've just interrupted his weekend, intruded on his free time.

As your senses start to clarify, the guilt intensifies and you pull your hand away from his grasp. You can't believe you actually ran all the way here because some teenage kid threw something at you. How juvenile. He takes a step back from you and scans over your body, sending a self-conscious pang down your spine.

"I um, I'm sorry Spencer. I shouldn't have come here and I'm sorry if I interrupted your weekend." You tumble over your own words and go to leave his apartment, already mentally kicking yourself for knocking on his door. His hand on your shoulder stops you from walking to the front door, and he gives you a certain look you've never seen on him before. His eyes are tender and soft.

"Don't be sorry, I'm glad you came. I told you I was here to help." His voice is kind and gentle, and you're grateful for him.

"I can go back home, I think I'll be okay." You can't help but feel as if you're still inconveniencing him and make one more move towards the door which gets stopped by him again. He shakes his head,

"No, it's okay. Go sit on the couch and I'll get you some clean clothes to change into. What kind of tea would you like?" Your heart swells at his tenderhearted words. Your feet shuffle against the hardwood floor and you position yourself at the edge of his leather couch, careful to not get any of the stickiness on it.

"Um, anything is fine, thank you." Your throat begins feeling scratchy, probably from how violently you sobbed the entire way over here. He nods before disappearing into his apartment and your eyes travel around his place. You've never been here before and you're curious as to what he's like, what his tastes are.

It's not far off from what you expected. The color scheme is simple, the walls an earthy green and the lamp in the corner emits a soft amber glow. In true Spencer fashion, there's also a multitude of books, both laying on a coffee table and adorning bookshelves. It's calming.

He walks back into the room and hands you a change of clothes, which feel warm, as if they just came from the dryer. Spencer shows you to the bathroom and tells you that he'll be in the kitchen while you get changed. You strip from your clothes and try to fold them as neatly as you can, not wanting to make more of a mess in his home. He had given you a simple sweatshirt and sweatpants, which you already know are going to be too long, but you're thankful nonetheless.

The sweatshirt easily falls over your head and it smells like fresh laundry and Spencer. You breathe in the smell and it makes you feel secure. And just like you thought, the pants are far too long, but you roll up the legs and make it work. Before you join him in the kitchen, you try to rinse out the red syrup from your hair, knowing that if you don't get it out now that it'll be ten times harder to wash when it dries.

Once you're satisfied, you open the door and quietly walk back down the hall to the kitchen, where Spencer is standing with two mugs in his hands. He looks over you once and offers you one of the drinks. Steam rises from the top and you smell the chamomile. The warmth of the drink soothes your throat, and you follow Spencer back into his living room, resuming your position on his couch. He sits at the other side and you look over at him, feeling an intense sense of gratitude.

"Thank you, Spencer." You whisper, not wanting to disturb the stillness. He places his mug on the coffee table beside an open book and his lips curl into a soft smile.

"Anytime. I know you'd do the same for me." He says and you nod, knowing he's right. You open and close your mouth a few times, trying to find just the right words.

"I don't think I'm okay. I don't feel safe being alone with my thoughts. I can't sleep without seeing her." You admit to him, no longer caring if he reports this to Hotch on Monday. You chew on your bottom lip with anxiety, feeling exhausted from suffering. Expecting to find him looking at you, analyzing you, you delay meeting his gaze only to see that he looks empathetic.

"I know what you mean. I barely slept for two weeks when mine started." His voice is raspy, yet gentle. Your head shakes as you take another sip of warm tea.

"How do you deal with it?" You're desperate for answers, knowing you can't keep functioning this way. He sighs,

"One day at a time. I put off confiding in someone for a long time, probably too long. But this isn't something to deal with alone." The two of you lock eyes, and for the first time since the incident, you almost feel at ease.

"Am I going to be kicked off the team?" There's worry evident in your voice, and you're scared of his answer.

"No. If they got rid of everyone who has dealt with trauma from the job there would be no behavioral analysis unit." He says with a small smile, trying to lighten the heavy mood. You take another sip of tea and allow yourself to relax into the leather of his couch. His presence alone is enough to make you feel safe.

"Are you going to tell the others?" You ask, looking down into the tea, watching it swirl gently around the ceramic. He readjusts on the couch.

"No." He says, much to your surprise, but you're thankful he's not reporting back to Hotch about how you've been doing.

The two of you let the conversation fall back into a silence, and you finish off the tea. Your body feels relaxed and warm, your eyelids begin to feel heavy. Leaning back into the comfortable cushions, your eyes close and you take a deep breath, thankful for the little moment of peace. You're not sure how much time passes, but you feel Spencer tapping you on the shoulder. Fluttering your eyes open you see him standing beside you.

"Follow me." He quietly instructs, gesturing for you to go with him down the hall. Without thinking of why, you blindly follow his orders. He leads you into a dark room, his hand on the small of your back to guide you through the shadows. Spencer sits you down on a bed and an uneasy feeling settles in your stomach, you can't let him do this for you.

"Stay here tonight, I'll be in the living room." His hand leaves your back but you reach out and grab his wrist before he can leave.

"No, Spencer, this is your home. I can't." You tell him and stand from his bed, which is admittedly very comfortable. He turns to face you fully and sits you back on the bed, his hands on your shoulders.

"Please?" He asks, and you're not sure why he's being so generous. He's already done more than enough for you tonight, and now he's giving you his bed. The man doesn't like to shake peoples' hands because of germ transfer, and here he is letting you stay in such an intimate place of his? You can't wrap your head around it.

Though you feel sleepy, there's an uneasy feeling in the back of your head and you know what will happen if you go to sleep; you'll see her again. You reach your hands to rest atop of his on your shoulders and look up at him through the darkness, just barely able to make out his features.

"Stay with me." You whisper and let his hands go so that he doesn't feel trapped. In the darkness you see his shoulders tense, and you wish you could take your words back. But to your surprise, he nods his head and makes his way around to the other side of the bed. He pulls the covers back and slowly gets in, and you lay down, keeping a respectable distance between the two of you.

Your heart pounds in your chest and you reach across the soft blankets for his hand, needing it to ground you, to remind you that you're not here alone. His larger hand engulfs yours and his thumb traces soft circles on the back of your hand. Your eyes close and before you understand what's happening, you fall asleep.

-----

Bright, almost blinding, sunlight breaking through curtains stirs you awake and you open your eyes to find that you're not in your own room. Your mind takes a moment to remember where you are and your muscles relax when you realize where you are. But the relaxation is short-lived as you realize that it's not a pillow in front of your face, that you're in fact resting your forehead against Spencer's chest, your hand still entwined with his.

A moment of pure fear strikes you and you try to untangle yourself from him without disturbing him. Surely if he woke up and saw this he'd be uncomfortable. Gently, you try to extract your hand from his, but instead of being able to separate, he squeezes your hand tighter. Your eyes trail up from your hands to his face, seeing that he's already opened his eyes.

"I'm sorry I don't, I didn't mean-" You try to manage the fallout of your actions, but he shushes you.

"It's okay. How did you sleep?" His voice is deliciously raspy, and it distracts you from answering the question for just a second longer than it should've.

"Um, good. I didn't see her." You admit and lean back so that you can more clearly see his face. His curly hair is disheveled and his eyes are still clouded with drowsiness. His soft, pink lips turn upwards into a smile.

"That's great." He says and closes his eyes once more, keeping your hand in his. Your tense body eases once more as you realize that he's not uncomfortable. You know him well enough by now to understand that if he were uncomfortable, he wouldn't still be here.

You rest your forehead against his chest again, savoring the warm and comforting smell of him. The two of you are entangled with one another under the cozy blankets, and you're perfectly content with staying just like this for as long as possible.

As you drift back off into a sleep, you feel Spencer move around and feel his soft lips press a delicate kiss to your forehead. Instinctually, you lean into him, nuzzling your nose into the space where his neck meets his shoulder.

-----

Sometime during the afternoon, the two of you decide to get out of bed. You're very aware that a rosy color adorns your face, feeling flustered from whatever transpired between you and Spencer. You had always been attracted to him, not just for his looks, but also his intelligence, but you never thought he'd reciprocate those feelings. But after last night and this morning, you can't help but wonder what's actually happening.

The two of you sit across from each other at the dining table, drinking coffee and eating mixed berries. You catch him stealing glances at you, and he catches you doing the same. You're too afraid to bring it up, scared that whatever is happening will be dismantled. So instead you're perfectly content just enjoying the moment.

After breakfast, you move into the living room where he picks up his book from last night and you pick one of them off his shelf. The synopsis sounds interesting, and so you curl up on his couch with it. Unlike last night, you no longer feel like you're intruding on his space, it almost feels natural to just coexist with one another on this Saturday morning.

He finishes the book in record time, and you had only reached page twenty of yours. You watch as he files the book away on his shelf, and instead of reaching for another, he trains his gaze on you. Your fingers close the front cover of the book, waiting for him to say something.

"You said you didn't see her last night, right?" He asks, breaking the silence. You nod your head,

"I didn't see her last night." You confirm and he smiles, joining you on the couch. He's sitting so close that your knees brush against each other and it sends a warm feeling up your spine.

"It's one of the harder parts of the job, I think. Nobody tells you about this side of it when you join. And nobody really talks about it either, everyone would just prefer to suffer in silence so as not to be perceived as weak. But without finding an outlet, it'll eat you alive." He speaks, resting his hand atop your knee. Your eyes stay glued to his hand as you add onto his statement.

"I considered leaving the team because I felt like I was going insane. I thought that if I couldn't save that girl, then what good am I to anyone else?" You reach out for his hand and he looks over to you, hazel eyes shining with an unfamiliar light in them.

"It's hard, but you can't focus on those you lose. You have to remind yourself of how many you save. To get yourself out of that darkness of guilt, you just have to remember the ones that are alive and well because of you. You've been on the team for two years now and you've already saved countless people, both directly and indirectly. Don't let the job strip you of your humanity." He tells you, looking deep into your eyes. You swallow, digesting his words and your eyes are unable to look away from him.

"It's so hard though. She was just a child." You say with exasperation. He squeezes his hand on your knee in reassurance.

"She was, but so many children get to live because you stopped him." His voice is sincere and your eyes water at his words. Your mind conjures images of children with families, alive and healthy.

Spencer raises a hand to the side of your face, and you lean into his touch. His thumb comes up and brushes a lone tear from the corner of your eye before gently stroking your cheek. You reach out and pull him into you, wrapping your arms around his neck as he circles his arms around your waist. He hold you tight, and you never want to let go. Spencer is warm, comforting, and you know that from this moment forward, you won't be able to survive without him.

Pulling away from the embrace, you rest your forehead against his, the two of you meeting each other's eyes with parted lips. Your hands find their way to the sides of his face, and you bring your lips to his. His hands hold your waist, keeping you in place as you move against each other in perfect harmony.

One of your hands finds its way to his curly hair and you rake your fingers through it, eliciting a soft moan from him. Heat ignites within you and you push your body closer to him, unable to get enough. His skin is soft under your touch and you try to memorize the way it feels, just in case this never happens again.

His hands move to map out the curve of your waist and your breathing gets heavier with desire. You move one of your legs across his lap, straddling him. He breaks the kiss first and holds you upright on his lap, looking over your body that's still concealed by his clothes. Deep in your soul, you know that this is more than just a random act of lust.

You lean in to kiss him again and you help his hands remove the sweatshirt from your body. The air is chilly against your skin and you shiver. Spencer kisses your lips and trails down to your neck, and you're unable to contain your breathy moan. Your body aches with desire to have him all over you.

His hands map out every inch of your body, taking the time to memorize the way you feel underneath him and how you respond to his tender touch. The two of you take your time to make each other feel good, to make each other feel loved and understood. There's no rush to your movements, and you're perfectly content taking as long as you want to touch him, to feel his warm skin on yours as you move in tandem, the two of you becoming one.

You treat each other as if you're both made of precious glass, appreciating the fragility of the moment. The two of you soak in every moan, every breath, every kiss from the other, and you've never felt more alive. With each movement you find a new way to appreciate his beauty. His beauty is in the tenderness of his touch, the colors of his eyes, the pinkness of his lips. Every inch of him is beautiful, and you know that nothing else on this Earth can ever begin to compare.

Spencer rests his forehead against yours, the two of you out of breath and sensitive. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead as he moves beside you, cradling you in his arms and placing delicate kisses to your warm skin. The two of you hold on to each other as if the other would cease to exist if you let go.

Without having to utter a single word, you know that the two of you will never have to face this life alone again.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #hozier #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #Spotify #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction

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randoimago · 11 months

Note

Aah, can I also request some letters for RK800 and RK900? M, S and Y, please!

Alphabet Headcanons

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human

Character(s): RK800 (Connor), RK900 (Nines)

Type of Request: Alphabet Headcanons

Note(s): Calling RK900 Nines just because I like that better than his model number!

M - Memory (what is their favourite memory with you?)

Connor

A favorite memory he thinks fondly of from time-to-time is when he went on a walk in the park with you. It's simple and the moment was on the casual side rather than romantic, but he noticed how relaxed and happy you looked.

The smile on your face and seeing you stress-free is kept in his memory banks. Sometimes, he finds himself smiling at the memory popping up out of nowhere.

Nines

It was after a chase with finding a deviant android, one that murdered for the sake of enjoying it than defense. Nines saw you retreat to the roof of the building and he followed you, curious as to what your intentions were. You ended up just talking, mentioning similar cases with humans. Nines added to your comments with logic and how faulty programming caused this.

Nothing romantic happened at all, but hours were spent just talking under the night sky and Nines ends up going back to that moment quite a bit, it was the first moment that he really felt that he got to see you.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Connor

I feel like Connor would be very protective over you once he's reached deviancy. He realizes his feelings and doesn't like the idea of you being hurt in any way, but he also has to stop himself from rushing to your side every time because he knows that level of protectiveness could upset you too.

Connor would prefer to not resort to violence so he tries to be charming and sly as he gets you out of any uncomfortable situations. That doesn't mean he won't punch someone for you, but he is better with his words. And as such, he's very good with giving you compliments and cheering you up in those situations too.

He usually views other's well-being over his own so having his S/O take care of him makes him happy. He does remind you that it's unnecessary to comfort him, but the smile on his face shows that he very much enjoys it.

Nines

He doesn't realize his protectiveness to his S/O. Nines sees you in danger and he ignores his programming giving him a percentage of your safety as he goes to immediately help you without a thought.

He knows he's strong and physically capable to keep you safe, but then he sees you in emotion turmoil. Nines convinces himself that he's calming you so your performance doesn't jeopardize his, but he is fast to find information and read your tells to make sure you are okay.

Nines would never ask that you protect him. He's a machine and can't feel pain. But if you defend him in conversation or even just stay by his side when he needs you (not that he'd say he needs you) then that causes some system errors that he doesn't quite know how to handle.

Y - Yearning (how do they cope when they are missing you? are they alright with being without you for an extended period of time or would they prefer to be with you every day of their life without exception?)

Connor

Definitely is a bit of a puppy when it comes to his S/O being away. He tries to not let it affect his performance, but Hank is quick to call him out on it. He ends up getting his coin out more often or trying to find ways to occupy his mind as a small timer is going on in the back of his programming for when you'll be back.

Very much would prefer you to be around him all the time, but he also knows that would be unreasonable and illogical to ask for, so he just awaits for your return.

Nines

Nothing seems to change for Nines when his S/O is gone for a while. He still performs highly and functions just fine. Nothing really seems wrong except for the fact that he acts more like a machine while you're away.

He does miss you, but he can't let it get in the way of his work. Would request that you not leave so often or not be gone for too long as he wants to make sure you're by his side and not in danger of being hurt.

#kats alphabet headcanons #detroit become human x reader #dbh x reader #dbh connor x reader #dbh nines x reader #rk800 x reader #rk900 x reader #connor x reader #nines x reader

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brawltogethernow · 7 months

Text

—

L fell over from his customary seated position, died in his nemesis's arms, then came to in his customary seated position.

He fell over.

"Richard?" said Wammy, the alias he'd been using four cases ago. "Are you alright?"

"Watari?" he said dumbly, into the floor. Wammy was dead. He hadn't wanted it to be true, but he had been sure when he saw the data kill switch had been flipped, pieces of information slotting together to form a whole even when he didn't want them to. His own hand had carved him into a device that did this process automatically. It was too late to deny facts.

"What?" said Wammy like he didn't recognize the Japanese alias.

L pushed himself up halfway off the ground. "Fuuuuuck this," he said, and fell over again.

⁣

"Why me?" he wondered aloud. "Does this happen to everyone killed by the murder notebooks? I can't investigate an infinite multiverse, Weatherby."

"Probably not," conceded Wammy. He was currently humoring L gamely. L had been able to provide multiple descriptions of future events that would confirm he wasn't cracking up, but none of them had happened yet. He had never been much of one for keeping track of the date regarding matters where someone could do it for him, which didn't help. Well. Wammy would come around.

L was humoring himself, too, for now. There was no point assuming his mind wasn't reliable. Using his brain to run diagnostics on itself could wait until it seemed necessary. If he was having an Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge moment it was certainly going on for a very long time.

He ground his molars against each other. The Kira murders had been supernatural, but clearly guided by a hand that either was mortal or thought the same way. So far, this seemed...random.

"I don't like this," he informed the room, and incidentally Wammy. His latest sugar cube tower collapsed and split into two factions, one falling into his tea and the other scattering across his desk. Tea sloshed out of its cup in futile pursuit of the desk faction.

He picked up the teacup by the mostly not sticky handle and sipped it, pursuing the grit at the bottom of its basin. He put it down and but his thumbnail. It was slightly sweet. He needed to wash his hands. He added, "Well. I like it better than being dead."

⁣

He sent the party interested in his current case an e-mail with enough key bullet points of the solution for them to clean up what was left of it themselves, which was more than he felt like doing for a rerun of a case. If he were stuck only rehashing already closed cases he might entertain the theory that this was Hell. But the world was wide, he had only lived a year or so beyond this in the first place, and the Kira case was still open.

He tried to console himself that Light Yagami possessed one of the most ruthlessly brilliant minds L had ever encountered. This did not make him feel any better about being beaten by a fucking child. L was an extremely petty man about things like that.

(He had been a worse minor. If he had been eighteen as well when faced with such an infuriating suspect, he would probably have been the one instigating physical altercations. He would have broken Light's perfect nose instead of playing around with him, and then maybe he wouldn't be undead.)

He gnawed his thumbnail, brain too itchy to be content just pressing it against his bottom lip where he could usually stop. He knew on one level of thought he was risking ending up with sore and bloody cuticles, but it was not the level primarily in charge of his teeth and hands when he was stressed. Was he stressed? Extremely, yes. But should he have been? His life wasn't even in danger, nor was Wammy's. Kira hadn't claimed his first kill yet, probably hadn't acquired his weapon, that awful, intriguing, unassuming notebook. And when he did, L could just...

L didn't even have to do anything. He could just ignore it, and stay ensconced in whatever HQ he chose. Name unrecorded, face unknown, existence not relevant to Light Yagami's twisted morals. He already knew all the key mechanics of Kira. The method, the means—he was sure he'd already known the why. He had all the answers he wanted. Light had given him his answers.

His true face... It was all the confession L had needed. An honor, even.

Ha!

L didn't need anyone's sanction to solve the Kira problem, either. He could steal the notebook. He could hire a hitman.

Dull pain and the taste of blood alerted him that he'd bitten through his thumb.

He popped it into his mouth to keep blood off his keyboard. No, he didn't want to kill Light Yagami. He probably should kill Light Yagami, but he didn't want to. He wanted to... To...

⁣

Of the many casualties of the Kira case, there was no one he cared to intervene for he hadn't led to danger with his own hand. (Should he have cared more about Beyond? Eh, he'd interfere if Wammy brought it up.) Even Naomi, who he hadn't spoken to in years, should have no reason to return to her home country if L didn't repeat old plays.

...He wondered if he was perhaps taking the wrong lessons about treating people as expendable from the situation.

He tapped his fingers. Naomi. He had liked her.

He spent an hour at the keys confirming where she was. The sun had set around him, at some point, leaving him in a black room with the monitor a white inferno at the center. Moved to Burbank, engaged, retired. She must be bored out of her mind in an empty room of her own making. No wonder she had died over this case too.

He hoped it was exciting first. Light had never mentioned her.

Focusing all of her faculties on her boytoy only for a killer to take him away... She must have gotten very unlucky to have not proved a bigger obstacle.

⁣

After it came clear that L was reporting his experiences accurately (or hallucinating his confidant's confirmations), Wammy sat silently for a subjectively long minute and forty-seven seconds.

"What is it like?" he asked at last. "Dying."

"I don't know, I was kind of distracted," L deflected, because this is true.

Wammy gave him a blank yet communicative look.

L bit down on his other, less raw thumb. Why hadn't Wammy come back with him, possessed of his own experience to draw on? Was there another Wammy, elsewhere, who has gone back alone?

Could it be he really didn't die? No. L was sure.

Kira had done that, but even spider-scrabbling blunted fingertips at the bottom recesses of the linty pockets of his heart, L couldn't find it in himself to feel too righteously indignant. L was the one who had wanted to win badly enough he'd anted up his allies in their game. He had been cocky. He had been too cavalier.

"Frustrating," he answered. "Like when you can't stay awake even though you're in the middle of a project."

The brain, whirling determinedly away even as it stopped receiving fresh blood, as the vision narrowed down to a thin line, a screen shutting off uncaring of whether it was the end of the program.

⁣

He researched relevant players he hadn't been aware of at this point. All were transpiring to be about where he'd have plced them.

The web of events was elaborate. But that could have been dream logic. He'd tried, but never gotten the hang of, lucid dreaming. He was not sure he would be truly convinced this was happening until he'd discovered a why.

He hovered his overful teacup not quite at his lips. Next, he could find a backdoor into the TCPD systems, but...maybe...

He wormed into Yagami Light's computer instead. After 24 hours of passive data collection this provided him with Souichirou's passwords and how Light concealed he was using them.

It was very amateur, which was the best way to hack an organization that thought it was going to be hacked by professionals. Casual exploitation of loose security.

It was child's play on top of this to get a day-old visual on Light. L looked at the security photo and felt a thrill up his spine. Ah, death really didn't change me for the better at all, he thought.

⁣

"What's next in the docket?" asked Wammy, tidying up the workstation they were slated to abandon. (L remained on his computer chair and let this happen around him.) He was content to follow L's lead, even knowing he had led them both to their deaths.

"I want to find out why I've come back in time, and how," said L. "...But I don't have any leads to speak of."

"Except young Yagami," concluded Wammy, who was not an unclever man.

"I don't want to return to the Kira case," L admitted.

"Completely understandable," said Wammy without judgment. He was not an overly moral man, either.

L fidgeted. Flopped somewhat. "The Kira case is the most interesting case on the planet right now," he said.

Wammy waited.

"But I already know how he kills," L sulked. "And dying kind of hurt."

Wammy's mouth pursed at this. But he only asked, "What are you planning, L?"

"I'm going to insert myself," announced L, rising and stepping out of his chair. "What do we have in liquid assets right now?"

"What will this be put toward?" inquired Wammy.

L rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling and thought about it, chewing his lip. "Shenanigans," he declared.

He realized he had forgotten a social step and stopped his creep for the exit. He swiveled his head around. "Though Weatherby, if you want to return to the school for a year or two, or perhaps go on vacation—"

"I'll go where you go," interrupted Wammy, chilly.

L pursed his lips, finding now he'd began it that this was not the perfunctory check-in he'd taken it for. He said, "I would prefer if you didn't die."

Wammy sighed. "A similar sentiment is why I will accompany you."

L turned back around. "I see," he said, nodding. "Emotional blackmail."

"This time I trust you to take the appropriate precautions," said Wammy.

"Ugh," said L. "You're no fun."

⁣

To enact his very ingenious and only partially driven by general doubt in reality and spite scheme, L got a job at a pastry chain in Tokyo.

After less than a single afternoon, the manager deemed L unfit to serve customers (this was correct), so he was shuffled onto glazing duty. He accepted this without complain as, due to the pop-up-cum-cart-style layout of the establishment, this still allowed him a clear view of anyone patronizing the establishment. Moreover, he did not especially want to serve customers.

He despised the thin plastic sanitation gloves, which felt like rather than protecting his hands they moved the barrier of contaminated flesh up to his wrists, oils creeping and substances splashing upwards, until he wanted to decontaminate his arms up to the elbows and down to the bone.

It's for the case, he told himself even though there was no case, not really. It was the same process of steeling himself to put discomfort aside for a greater cause.

The greater cause this time was just bullying Yagami Light.

This is a cinnamon roll of great justice, he told himself, then held it up to eye level and examined it, debating whether to eat half of it in front of his manager. For great justice.

⁣

His fingers twitched. He solved cold cases from his backlog and sent in tips about them thumb-typed on a PDA on his lunch breaks. He was so understimulated he contemplated playing some stocks, which he was trying to cut back on. He had more money than one person could ever need and than he had any inclination to redistribute responsibly, and also he acclimated to them the way some people did to pachinko.

⁣

The manager sat him down. "I have been informed I can't fire you," he said.

"Yes," said L, who had purchased the chain before applying for the job.

"But I want to," said his manager, like it was important L knew.

"That's fine," said L. He pulled an industrial tub of cold icing over, stuck one finger into it, and licked it.

The manager's mouth flexed murderously. L entertained himself briefly by imagining this scheme if Light was his manager.

⁣

When Light finally walked in, L had been shuffled back to cashier duty to get him to stop licking the donut icing, where he would remain until customer satisfaction dropped untenably low. With a pull that was gravity-inevitable, they locked eyes across the room, and a realization was clear to L at once:

He's bored again.

Without anyone challenging to oppose him, Kira was already getting bored. A smile spread like an ocean oil slick over L's face. Or perhaps like the mysterious and ever-widening sticky spot under the second stove that no one could seem to mop up.

Everything was falling in line with his loftiest expectations. Light would crawl on his knees right to L. He didn't realize it, but he was desperate.

And L would lead this insufferable man, in his supplication, right through the mystery floor goo.

L favored Light with his (he was told) very unsettling customer service smile. "Welcome to Cinnabon," he said.

—

AO3

#death note #fic #w #l lawliet #cinnabon au #how do you spell..........how do you spell the baseball video game one.#quillish wammy #quillsh wammy #EACH VARIANT WORSE THAN THE LAST

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commander-revan · 6 months

Text

I'm so happy that this is the direction My Hero has taken. People have been saying damn near every chapter for the last few weeks that All Might was going to die, because that's just what mentor characters are supposed to do, and now the narrative itself is telling us that's not what's happening here, and it honestly makes the story much more interesting.

Back in the chapters dealing with Touya, I was so stressed out that the endgame was going to be that some of, if not all, the villains were going to die. Because that's what happens in a lot of other media. Even if they have tragic backstories, a lot of narratives will push that the villains are too far gone to be saved, no matter how unfortunate that might be. So many people wanted that Touya/Enji murder/suicide moment, and it looked like that's how it was going to go down. Until Rei stepped in.

After that, I wasn't as stressed anymore. I trust where Horikoshi is going with this, and the themes he's trying to get across. Especially with how All Might's and Bakugo's stories are being handled. Everything feels like it's coming full circle from where their journeys started, and I love that.

I can't wait to see where it goes from here, and how it ends, especially for the League. Death doesn't immediately make a story good, and just because people live doesn't mean that there still aren't stakes to the story or that there won't be consequences to certain actions.

When so much media just uses death for shock value, or the deaths don't carry the weight they should in the story, it's nice to see My Hero going it's own direction. It's cathartic knowing that the characters I love are going to be handled with care, and not just used as a prop for another character's development.

#dabi #my hero academia #touya todoroki #league of villains #toga himiko #shigaraki tomura #Bnha #all might #yagi toshinori #sir nighteye #bakugou katsuki #bnha meta #mha meta

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mixelation · 2 months

Text

considering logistics of chunin exam #2

itachi wins the iwa tournament and then they don't promote any of the konoha genin. itachi is just like "whatever" and applies for an internal promotion, which he gets due t his insane mission record

i think i will send deidara to suna for his exam #2. for um. sasori reasons. :) he also wins his tournament

i deleted the line but i'm leaning towards tori taking exam #2 in kiri? so we can get another mangetsu cameo and also kisame is there. i'm not sure if anyone goes with her? i think kushina would WANT to follow her students around but minato might attempt to block this due to The Iwa Incidence lol

itachi, suddenly very intense: you can't just let tori go places alone

minato: aw, being protective?

itachi: (having war flashbacks)

it might be fun to stick another jounin as her babysitter? i'm trying to think of other fun choices besides kakashi. like one idea is send her with whoever she trapped in a barrier for like a day during the war

mangetsu: why does your jounin keep looking at you like that

tori: incredibly long story. don't worry about him

also she is SO stressed about the tournament thing. she's largely not worried about accomplishing Tasks that she can get around wit non-combat skills, so she flies through the first two stages. but she's also just trudging around Kiri upset about having to fight people. the other entrants are like "why do TWO of the seven swords keep wanting to talk to you?" and she's like "shut up. i have to focus on how to beat a murderous twelve year old. oh my god what if mangetsu decides i'm not cool anymore. my ego couldn't handle it"

tori: maybe instead of training my efforts should go into starting an incident somewhere else so he has to take a mission out of the village

kisame: insane thought process, glad you haven't changed

kisame: also don't do that

#reborn au

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gabrielsbubblegumbitch · 1 month

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was reading this one fic where vox accidentally goes to heaven after dying saving valentino: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53808826/chapters/136190737 and although it mostly focuses on vox in heaven, it made me wonder

how do you think the other vees would react if one of their own died? (for any sort of combination of that, be it vox dying and val and velvette dealing with the aftermath, val dying and vox and velvette dealing with it, velvette dying and vox and val dealing with it)

don't have to answer all the combinations if you can't, mostly curious about your thoughts regarding val and velvette's reactions and the aftermath of a hypothetical vox death

(don't have to read the fic to answer this ask, just thought I'd leave it there since it inspired the thought process)

Oh boy, I've already talked about what Valentino might do if Vox died. I don't think my ideas are super original. In that scenario, Valentino and Velvette would probably drift apart—not forever, but for a bit. Velvette probably can't handle Valentino's meltdowns as good as Vox, so she'd likely step back to deal with her own stuff without the extra stress of his.

If Velvette died, Vox would try to handle Valentino's emotions because he's good at not getting caught up in his own. If Vel were murdered, Vox would find it easy to pull Valentino into some revenge plan that would keep them both busy. It'd be a total bloodshed, like "Kill Bill" but with two super angry and sadistic demons. If there were no one to blame, though, it'd be way harder because there'd be no revenge to fill that void, not even slightest bit of agency left in Vox's hands. That might drive him crazy depressive and Val would have to take care of him instead. Vox can't deal with stagnancy and helplessness.

If Valentino died, Vox and Velvette would go after whoever was responsible (if there were anyone involved), and then they'd try to act like everything's normal, like "death happens," and just keep on with their businesses. They'd probably be too scared of falling apart to even say Valentino's name, pretending like he might just show up again. But they're both have enough nerve and audacity to one day just say, "You know, I don't think death is the end. We should see if we can talk to God and make a deal." Even if it's a delusional madman talk, they'd have to at least try.

(it's just from top of my mind, unfortunately I didn't read fanfic because i barely have any fee time :c)

#hazbin hotel #vox #valentino #velvette #voxval #vox hazbin #ask #headcanon #valentino hazbin hotel #velvette hazbin hotel #the vees

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last-words-ofashootingstar · 2 months

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hiii could you do more of Baby!Seonghwa pls?? I loved it and i can’t stop thinking about it since i’ve read it, amazing work btw thanks <3

Medicine

❥Yandere Park Seonghwa x fem reader

➯a/n: this is a work of fiction and does NOT represent a healthy little and caregiver relationship, or a healthy relationship of any kind. i'm back at it with my mommy hwa shenanigans while tweaking with the shells plot line mwahaha

takes place before Baby (you don't have to read to understand but it gives this some extra spice)

✃ "I'd burn alive just for the soft light on your face." -Paper Doll, Flower Face

✫彡wordcount: 3k

♡'･ᴗ･'♡(ಡ‸ಡ)(¯ ³¯)♡genre: yandere, angst, hurt & comfort

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: stockholm syndrome, periods and period blood(non descriptive), everyone is morally grey, non sexual nudity, references to sh and violence(not towards reader), it's fair to say seonghwa is a murderer lol, jongho and baby bff agenda as hinted at in the first part, more exploration of how the members are affected, one mention of sewer slide, mingi needs a hug fr, not proof read

⁂perm taglist: @stvrfir3 @tunaasan @marievllr-abg

✩index: little space; a regressed state of mind where one feels like a child. hyung; a name for an older male friend or sibling, used by other males.

MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI

Seonghwa was certain that he could handle anything you threw his way after five months of being his captive in his care.

He knew you well, better than he knew himself most days. Even before he had 'taken you home', he tried to learn everything about you to make the transition easier. Some things though- were impossible to know.

You hadn't gotten your period since before your 'big move', as he called it. He read up on all things womanly to be better prepared so he knew that stress could cause you to skip it. And it did for a long while. Now, though, you were starting to settle in.

He knew they were painful. But nothing prepared him for the heartbreak when he saw you in the state you were in now.

He had just gone downstairs to get the mail, but that was apparently all the time it took for you to lock yourself in the bathroom.

"I don't know what happened, Hyung!" Mingi was just as panicked as Seonghwa at the moment, he felt responsible for whatever was happening behind the locked bathroom door. What if you had gotten into their razors? It would be all his fault... His Hyung trusted him with his Baby and she dashed away before he could even register it.

Everyone saw the shift in you the past few days, moody and hungry and tired. One of the managers even had the nerve to ask if you could be pregnant. As if Hwa would ever let you skip your birth control.

"She just ran off! Everything was fine," Mingi continued as he jiggled the knob relentlessly, slapping his palm on the wood while calling out.

His voice was so loud in Seonghwa's mind. He was so overwhelmed. Scared. Full of rage.

And then they heard the shower turn on.

At least he knew you were alive in there.

"Baby?" He pushed his younger member out of the way and knocked on the door much gentler. "You know you can't take baths alone. Open the door and let me help you."

There was no response.

"Now, Baby."

Only the sound of the water hitting linoleum tiles.

"Don't make me count to three."

Mingi backed up at that. He hated when he counted just as much as you did.

But he didn't have to count, when he heard the tiniest sniff from over the pelting water his body reacted for him. His shoulder came in contact with the door and in the next second he had broken through the frame of the door.

Mingi looked on in shock, eyes fixed on the metal lock on the door which was still stuck out in place. They followed to the doorframe, splintered open. Then they fell to you, curled up naked on the bathroom floor under the raining water. He looked away at that, turning and crouching down to pick up the broken pieces of wood to busy himself until he knew you were okay enough to leave you in Seonghwas care alone.

Seonghwa had kneeled next to you, uncaring as the water soaked the knees on his pants. Even more uncaring as he leaned over your face, blocking the water with the back of his head and soaking the collar of his shirt and his hair. The scorching water dripped from his hair to your face as he cupped it in his hands, inspecting you for any damage on the surface.

"Baby, my baby, what's wrong?" The pain in his voice was just as present as the pain in your face. Wound tight like your eyebrows as you winced.

"H-hurts." Was all you could manage, groaning as he untucked your arms from around you to inspect you further. You were fine on the surface.

"Hyung..." His head snapped back to Mingi, who held out your shorts pinched between his fingers, touching them as little as possible. There was a dark spot on them, red and angry as it stained the pattern.

He looked down slowly, eyes meeting the drain as it sucked up the pink tinted water.

ఌ

It took all the convincing in the world from Seonghwas part that for you to remember that you weren't dying. That this happened to big girls every month. Eventually he managed to dry you off after letting the water sooth you for a while and set you up with a pad from the box he's had under the sink since he brought you home.

But then again, some things he couldn't have been prepared for. You told him your periods weren't just painful, they were debilitating. He wished he would have asked you before hand to be more prepared- but now he knows better for next time!

He set you up on the couch with a sock full of uncooked rice that he'd heated up placed on your stomach while he did frantic research on his phone. He peeked back and when he saw you were fast asleep, tuckered out from fighting the pain, he made a beeline downstairs- not even bothering to wait for the elevator and essentially jumping down the stairs.

He barged right into Yunho and Yeosangs dorm, making a mental note to scold them for not locking the door later on. But for now he was on a mission for his baby.

"Hello, Yeosang," he greeted briefly as he barged into the room as well, going straight to his shelf of supplements and vitamins. He could only stare dumbfounded as he scooped up what he needed and left. "Bye, Yeosang."

"Hello, Yunho." He spoke as he passed him in their kitchen. He raided the pantry and left with a simple, "Bye, Yunho." The both of them looked on in confusion as their Hyung left the dorm, not bothering to even shut the door.

"Yah, that's ours!"

Yunhos yell when unheard -or rather uncared for- as he was out the door just as fast as he came, desperately rushing down the hall as they looked on.

ఌ

That was how everyone ended up in the top story dorm, watching in confusion and anxiety as Seonghwa sat down his stolen goods on the coffee table infront of the couch, careful not to wake you. He went to walk off, and Wooyoung opened his mouth, "is she o-"

"Shh!" The eldest shushed harshly, shutting him up as he sped walked away.

"Hey, thats mine!" Another victim of Seonghwas thievery followed his Hyung with a sleepy grimace, blinking confusedly at the scene in the living room.

They had all seen some strange behavior from their eldest member, especially through the past nine months that lead up to this. The day you met was like a switch flipped in his imbalanced mind.

They hated you for that. Or rather, hated the idea of you. Every one of their moral compasses was spun in a complete three sixty when their Hyung kidnapped you those five months ago. He wasn't the same. For the good or bad, you changed Seonghwas live, all of their lives-

For bad, you had been the reason that Hongjoong had to pick dirt from under his nails after covering up one of his best friends sins. You were the reason Mingi had to take a three week hiatus to cover recover from the bruises from when he made eye contact with you. You were the reason that a quarter of their staff had to be paid off when the word spread, just to keep everything from going public.

But then- you were the reason that Seonghwa had started smiling again. The reason he tossed his blades into the river. You were the inspiration to eight different songs in only these few months, one of which was a major break through for them. Your childlike attitude beamed through the apartments.

You brought a certain light to their lives, one that was emitted from the fires of Hell.

They promised themselves they'd be indifferent to you, to not get involved as much as possible for the sake of their own sanity and morals. And yet, here they are.

Gathered in the living room with heavy hearts as they looked over you, silently begging for Seonghwa or Mingi to tell them what was wrong with you.

"Hyung..." Jongho spoke as softly as he could, his eyes couldn't help but fixate on the way you held yourself like you wanted to disappear. "What did you do to her?"

He, out of everyone, was most worried.

He hated this situation just as much as the others. Hell, he was still fighting himself every day to turn his Hyung in- even if their entire worlds would come crashing down. Because he hated to see you in pain. An innocent person suffering because he was too cowardly.

You were attached to the hip the second that Seonghwa let you out of his room. You dashed for the scariest looking member... because he was less scary than the man who snatched you up, who you thought you could trust. You hid behind his arms as everyone else looked on, simply staring in the disbelief of what their once trusted and kind member had done.

Hongjoong was in the same boat, just as troubled as Jongho was with the entirety of what had become their lives. He prided himself in the fact that he was a good person, through and through. He did good deeds when no body was looking, simply because it spread good feelings. All he ever wanted to put in the world was positivity. But when he saw the tears that his best friend caused, his heart made him simply look the other way. You didn't like Hongjoong much. His picture in Seonghwas room taunted you, made you resent him for being so obviously close to the source of all your pain. But he didn't treat you any different for it.

"Park Seonghwa, you promised you wouldn't hurt her like that," Hongjoong sneered through his teeth, ready to grab his only Hyung by the ear when he heard a small grumble from the couch.

You blinked. Once, twice.

And then you broke into a waterfall of hot tears.

"Hey, Baby it's okay," Seonghwa tried to soothe you, only to be pushed flat away from you as Jongho came and took his seat infront of the couch where you were situated.

"Hi, little bear," he cooed, taking you into his arms immediately when you weakly opened yours. He moved slowly as he sat on the couch with you in his lap, but slowly wasn't slow enough to stop the aches from pulsing through your veins on what felt like a molecular level.

It was Wooyoungs turn now to feel brave and stand up to Hwa- well, stand over him as he watched his baby with tears of his own welling up. "She's never cried this hard, what did you do?"

"Baby-"

He was pushed back down as he reached for you, a begging pout on his lips as Yeosang held him down by his shoulders.

He didn't know what had changed in his members but he knew it was shit timing. You needed comfort and calm, not to see your caregiver held down and restrained from you.

A pink sock hit Yeosangs head and he looked up with soft shock written on his features as he met your eyes. You immediately looked down, you still weren't allowed to look them in the eyes and you most definitely didn't want a punishment ontop of natures own. "Don't hurt my Mommy..."

"Honey, did your Mommy do this to you?" Yunho asked as he bent to your level.

You simply shook your head. Were they really fighting over your well-being? Why didn't they do that months ago when this whole fiasco started? You blinked away the thought as another teeth gritting cramp hit you. You hid in Jonghos sweater, trying to quiet down your sobs.

It wasn't all for naught though, as you could hear Mingi finally speaking up when he returned from the kitchen, a baby bottle of juice in hand that he sat down with Seonghwas thieved goodies. "She got her period..." Some of them immediately started cooing over you, and while you couldn't tell who with your head trying to burrow its way into Jongho to hide, it still made your ears feel hot with embarrassment.

"Oh, poor baby," San was the first one to speak, plugging in the heating pad he was robbed of minutes early with zero hesitation, gently draping it over your lower back.

"Get off me," Seonghwa finally snapped and pushed Yeosang and Wooyoung away, crawling on his knees to the couch. "Baby, I've got some stuff to help you but you'll have to come off Jongho, okay?"

You had a hint of defiance in your pain filled eyes as you peeked from the plush sweater you were hidden in. "No, big bear," you put on the cutes and hugged Jonghos neck tighter.

"I know big bear is comfortable," he bit his tongue as he looked at the way you so willingly curled into his youngest members lap for comfort that he should be providing, "but give me five minutes, I need to take care of you."

"Come on, little bear," Jongho sat up as careful as possible, ignoring the tug on his heart as you whined. He cared for you, of course. But he feared Seonghwa more.

Wooyoung couldn't bear to watch anymore, taking San's hand and disappearing down the hall. He used to look up to Seonghwa, now he could barely look in his eyes.

Mingi followed their lead, he wanted to be strong and comfort you, but he simply couldn't handle another second of seeing you reduced to tears. He'd never watch you cry again. His heart couldn't take it. Maybe that made him a coward of a man, but he didn't care at the moment.

That left Hongjoong sat across the coffee table with Yunho, Yeosang lowering himself into the armchair, and Seonghwa on his knees infront of you as you clung to Jonghos neck.

"Good..." He was certain there was blood filling his mouth from the way he bit down on his tongue. "I didn't want to leave you so these will do for now until I order your own, right?" It was rhetorical-was it? It's not like you had a choice in the matter. But he was so kind that it made your brain foggy. Like he really cared of your opinion for a moment.

"Magnesium, zinc, and vitamin d," he explained as he took one from each of the bottles. "More vitamin d," he sat the bottle of juice next to your legs. "And comfort," he drug the basket of sweets that he used as rewards for good behavior to the edge of the table and let you take a peek, seeing the new and unfamiliar chocolates on top.

Intrigued by the fancy looking wrapper, you reached out. Seonghwa only put the medicine in your hand. "Medicine first, Baby. Then you can have all you want from the basket."

Seonghwa was a lot of things but he wasn't a liar, never to you.

So, you sucked it up and took the medicine.

ఌ

Later that night, everyone besides Hongjoong and Jongho had returned home (save for the three that actually lived in the apartment with you). Mingi didn't exit his room, not even for dinner. San came and joined movie night after Wooyoung left.

The movie long ended, leaving everyone in the room dead asleep besides Seonghwa. How could he sleep at a moment like this? His Baby could wake up at any moment and need him.

So, he just sat and watched over the most important people in his life. His best friend, laid on the couch with his head on the opposite end as you, curled into a ball with nothing but a stuffed monkey to keep him company. His youngest member, laid on the floor with a pillow to his chest. And San, he was-

"Hyung?"

He was awake. Seonghwa perked up a bit, blinking away that familiar look in his eyes before he turned to the armchair where San was draped in a strange position. "Hyung, you should go to sleep..."

Both their eyes drifted to you, sound asleep. He'd either have to curl up behind you on the couch with Hongjoong or move you to your shared bed.

"You know..." San sighed, almost silently. "I hate you for what you did to her. For what got us here. But I would be lying if I said you didnt take good care of her. You love her, don't you?"

"I love her more than life." It was a declaration that was as easy as breathing. Though he'd never said it out loud to anyone other than you. Until now. Seeing you like that... "I love her. I never want her to be in pain like that, you don't understand, San. I was ready to kill myself if she was dying."

"Don't be ridiculous-"

"I'm serious."

The look in his eyes told him he was was. He would never joke when it came to you. He was always dead serious. He would rather not be in this world at all than be in it without you. "I know you don't understand, I'm not asking you to. But I had to do what I did. I had to do it. I had to."

"I know." And he did. San knew that, by all means Seonghwa didn't have to do what he did. He didn't have to kidnap you and keep you imprisoned in their dorm and buy people off to keep their mouth shut. But Seonghwa thought that he did. His mind had convinced him, and there was no turning back.

That first night, when they found you tied to his bed, that was all he could say. I had to. I had to. I had to. With his head tucked between his knees like a scolded child defending themselves- although everyone was too shell shocked to even say a word until Wooyoung broke the silence with a simple, 'what the fuck.' I had to. I had to. I had to.

"Do you?"

San licked his lips, took a deep breath, and rolled around to face the back of the arm chair. "I know you, Park Seonghwa. And you did what you believed was necessary. I can never agree with your reasoning... but I'll never fight you on it. Take your baby and go to bed. We're all tired."

Seonghwa couldn't see them, but there was fat tears rolling down San's face. He hadnt cried over this. But something had finally faded away and let him. He never referred to you as that. He liked to think you'd enjoy being separate from the life that Seonghwa had built for you. Not that you could notice most of the time, forced so deep into little space that your head felt light and fluffy like a bag of cotton candy.

He must have finally come to terms with the fact that this was reality.

"C'mon, baby girl," he heard him whisper, followed by a small groan as you were picked up. He waited until he heard Seonghwas door click. And he let all his tears free fall.

Seonghwa set your tired form down on your side of the bed, crawling in after you while trying to push away that itch in his brain that was screaming that he forgot your nightly routine. He tucked that little voice away and settled in bed, bringing the soft comforter over you both and melting into his pillow with a sigh.

He gathered you close as gently as possible and rubbed your back, staring up at the ceiling and listening closely to your breathes as they evened out to quiet snores.

A smile played at his lips.

For a moment he felt like everything would be okay. You had your medicine-

He felt you curl closer to his warmth, and he brought his finger tips up to brush your loose hairs back with a tenderness reserved only for you.

-And he had his.

ఌ

#ateez #yandere ateez #park seonghwa #yandere seonghwa #yandere fic #seonghwa x reader

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gremlin-bot · 1 year

Text

Growth of Trial and Error

So, I lied about this being put on the back burner apparently. It feels so good to post this after working on it for like two months. I hope y'all enjoy this 5 + 1 fic that was bate read by the wonderful @half-dead-ham !!! This fic also connects my other fics in my 'Petals and Arrays of The Dead and Those Yet To Be' series.

AO3 Link: here

—------ 1

Danny and Tim have been dating for a little over a month and a half. In that time they have tried to have a date night once every week… It ends up once every two weeks with random visits for a cuddle date. Danny blames the Observants and Gotham rogues for being bitches. There's only so many times that the restaurant they have reservations at somehow gets hit in an attack before they just give up on restaurants all together.

This is one of those cuddle dates. Danny was laying with his eyes closed on Tim's couch with a star pattern blanket wrapped around him. He's waiting for Tim to get back to back with popcorn so they can watch the Knives Out movies. Why would Tim want to watch murder mysteries when he literally helps solve crime as his nightly activities Danny would never get, that being said he had no room to talk. He himself often fights ghosts for fun now. It's good stress relief from royal duties.

Speaking of royal duties, Danny was sick of paperwork and meetings. Being Ghost King was one almost useless meeting after another with even more useless paperwork to go with each one. He swears, if the Observants ask for another meeting about making more court trials he will find a way to revive them from never being alive and end them himself. All that doesn't matter at the moment because he has a tired boyfriend to cuddle, once he stops taking so long in the kitchen.

Danny opens his eyes to see Tim with a small loving smile on his face. One that Danny can't help but return.

"Aww, it's almost like you got flowers in your lungs for me again!" Danny teases

"Hey! You have no room to talk, Mr. Blood Blossoms!" Tim's blush only gets worse with Danny's light laughter.

"Yeah, yeah and I'll never live that down." Tim rolls his eyes at the pun. Why did he have to bring another person who likes puns into his life, wasn't Dick enough? Danny lifts one side of the blanket.

"Come on sweetheart, get in here." Now how can Tim say no to that? He sets down the popcorn and the veggie tray Bruce insisted they have. Tim dives into Danny and settles in for a good old murder mystery.

They get half way through the first movie when things go wrong.

"God these guys are assholes, you'd think that after hearing one person getting excluded they would worry about the possibility of it happening to themselves!" Danny says, grabbing a handful of popcorn from its bowl.

"I hate that I've met people like this at galas." Tim groans.

"I hope they crash and burn. Marta deserves the inheritance at this point." Danny ends his point by popping pieces of popcorn in his mouth.

As the scene on screen changes, so does the one in Tim's living room. Danny really can't have a nice day off.

A ripping sound is hard over the cacophony of the TV. A portal to the Infinite Realms appears next to it, effectively ruining their cuddle date night. As the Observant floats out into the living room, Danny can't help but feel like he is forgetting something.

…Oh, oh no.

Danny realized what he forgot to tell Tim.

He is the ghost king and Tim has no fucking clue.

Oh Ancients, Tim is going to kill him a second time. That's a future Danny problem, present Danny has to handle an Observant with an uninformed vigilante boyfriend laying on top of him.

Tim has yet to move as he is in his civvies but Danny can feel him tensing. In an attempt at comfort and making sure Tim stays in place, Danny squeezes Tim to his chest and lets out soft rumbling from his core. A signal to the other that everything will be okay, he still doesn't relax.

The Observant was impatiently waiting for Danny's acknowledgement. It doesn't wait long, not because Danny answered but because it ran out of the little bit of patience it had in the first place. The mutual disdain the Observants and Danny hold for each other is great, but Danny will always commit more than the Observants. So yes, Danny could make this easier for himself and Tim, but no. He has principals!

"King Phantom, us Observants wish to schedule a meeting with you regarding the court-'' the eyeball in a sad imagination of jello didn't get to finish its request. It got cut off by Danny's sigh.

"If it's about the same thing as before, no. As stated in the Court Acts section 12a, you can't give out Court hearings without proper approval by an Ancient and myself. Nor can a trial proceed without a pre-approved Ancient or ghost of similar position from outside the Observant branch." Danny's blank stare fixed itself on the unwanted goo encased eyeball, daring it to rebuttal.

"Yes, of course King Phantom. I will tell the others." The Observant grits out. Its goo flesh scrunching in a poor imitation of a disgruntled face. It rips open a portal to the Infinite Realms and leaves without further pestering.

Danny lifts his arm. He can hear Tim's mind trying to piece together what happened.

"Hey, Tim? Beloved? Are you good?" Danny is starting to think that this might have broken his boyfriend. It's been a good 30 seconds since The Observant left and Tim hasn't moved. Maybe he's rebooting? As Danny is pondering the mental state of the man he's supposed to be cuddling, said man decided to roll off of him landing in a crouch.

Tim looks Danny in the eyes and says with all his heart, "What the fuck, Danny?!"

Oh Danny might be a little fucked.

—--------

Tim is going to kill and revive his boyfriend for a second time, if he doesn't explain right now.

"So, I may have forgotten to tell you something important." Danny placates.

"Oh! What gave it away? The probable high powered ghost that portaled into my living room and broke the TV in the middle of our date, or the fact you responded to them with higher authority!" Tim's sass is amplified by the TV blinking to life and giving a static scream.

Danny breathes in through clenched teeth, face slightly scrunched. It was adorable, making it hard for Tim to stay upset. "I'm sorry Tim. I didn't mean to keep anything from you, I just forgot you didn't know already and I just don't talk about it by default. You know I'm not used to not being around my parents and they don't know about any of-"

"Danny, hun, you're starting to ramble. I know how it is with your parents but please explain now.”

“Sorry, I’ll start at the beginning. So, you know how I told you how I became a teen hero after my half-death.”

“Yeah…” Tim switches from crouching to sitting on the floor, eyes squinting at Danny with suspicion. He doesn’t like where this is going.

“So, there was this one time my town was pulled into the infinite realms by the old ghost king. So I had to fight him. I won in the end but, Oh the consequences of these actions."

"Oh no."Tim said quietly, reeling at the possibilities of what the downfall of a king could be.

"Fun fact, the right to the throne is earned through trial by combat. It would have been fine if not for the Realms showing affection for me. You can't argue with the semi-sentient realm between realms," Danny sighed.

“Semi-sentient in what way??! How did it show affection for you?? What do you mean it would have been fine??" What exactly was Danny involved with? Tim thought it was just ghost wrangling. He knew he should have tried harder to contact Constantine about ghosts. Doesn't matter at the moment, nothing could have prepared him for this.

"I don't know how but the Infinite Realms are just like that. It might have to do with the fact that it's where all the dead end up, so technically all lands of the dead, but I just work there." Danny shrugged, all too used to the Infinite Realms' brand of being.

"Danny, Alnilam, my dearest boyfriend, I mean this with my entire heart and soul, what the fuck?" Tim lets his head slump into Danny's arm. He was done for the day and the next two after that. He just wants to watch some murder mysteries with Danny and deal with the Ghost King shit later. It was the first day off of both Wayne Enterprises and any major case he’s had in weeks.

The TV's static increased in volume for a moment before setting down, as if mocking him. He side eyes the TV.

"Sweetheart, if you stop glaring at the TV and give me like 5 minutes, I can fix it." Danny lightly chuckled.

"Fine, I want to see if I'm right about what is actually going on." Tim knows who did it, he's just waiting to be proven right.

"Hey! Don't spoil it!! Not everyone is a smartass." Danny sheds the blanket as he stands, "Are you going to join me on the couch when I'm done, or are you brooding?"

"Yet here you are calling me a smartass." Tim rolled his eyes. Switching from the floor to the couch and stealing Danny's blanket in the process. He's allowed to be a bit petty. It's what he deserves after this ordeal and the ones to come when they talk in depth, but that's for later. Right now, he gets to go back to watching murder mysteries with his boyfriend.

—------- 2

Danny woke up the next day with Tim's head on his chest and a crick in his neck. That's what he gets for falling asleep during cuddle night. Carefully, he reaches for his phone, trying his best to not wake up Tim. Ancients knows how much that boy needs sleep.

Checking the time Danny sighs. He has a meeting with the Ancients in half an hour. Looks like he will have to wake him up… or turn intangible and let him be. Danny debates for a minute before deciding fuck it. He makes himself intangible slowly, eventually Tim is laying on the couch still peacefully asleep.

He carefully floats out of Tim's space and onto the floor. Turning tangible turns into a problem, as Danny apparently can't watch where he pops into existence. His foot ends up in his water bottle. Losing his balance he falls and hits the floor hard, this of course wakes up Tim.

"Danny, what are you doing?" Tim groggily asks.

"Trying not to wake you up while I leave for a meeting. As you can see, I failed." Danny says from the floor, not having moved yet. "I'm just going to transform right here on the floor in shame"

"Transform?" Tim blinked, adjusting so he could fully look at Danny.

"Yeah, so I can get to the meeting on time... Wait. Tim, did you forget that I can transform?" Danny sits up, making eye contact with Tim.

"No I didn't forget, you never told me!"

"I told you the night we started dating," Danny laughs.

"Okay maybe I forgot, but it's not my fault," Tim counters.

"Oh, and how is that?" Danny teases.

"Well someone told me that he was getting severely injured by the Blood Blossoms that were in his lungs. So, forgive me for missing some details!"

"Okay, okay, you win. I did go to my ghost doctor after, you know.”

"Good. Don't you have a meeting to get to?"

"Oh shit! Close your eyes, my transformation is a bit bright." Danny shoots up and transforms in the process. Grabbing his things around the room he almost missed Tim's reaction. If it wasn't for Tim's gasp.

Danny turns to face Tim, his face is flushed as his eyes take in Danny's ghost form. Danny's growing smirk just makes Tim's blush darker.

"See something you like?" Danny teases, his smirk growing wicked.

"Shut up and go to your meeting!!" Tim throws a throw pillow at Danny, only for Danny to turn intangible. He didn't even have the decency to dodge.

"I'm going now, goodbye sweetheart." Danny rips open a portal with his claws, diving through just as he hears Tim's goodbye.

—---------- 3

It took two weeks for Tim to succumb to the need for information. Danny should have expected this from one of the world's greatest detectives, but the call he received at 4:16am was still a jarring surprise. He almost fell out of bed trying to answer his phone. Tim is lucky that he wasn't asleep yet.

After a slight struggle, Danny finally answered the call "Tim, sweetheart, what could you need at this fine 4am?"

"Are you technically a god? Because according to this glowing book I got my hands on-" Tim sounds like he's been on a research binge for an unhealthy amount of time.

"Please tell me you didn't use your vigilante status to steal a book about the Infinite Realms from the Justice League's magic team or whatever they’re called."

"I may have but anyway- wait." Tim stopped mid sentence, like he was reviewing information. Danny has no clue what it could be, but he did know that it would make the conversion complicated. "I didn't tell you I was a vigilante. How did you figure it out?"

"You don't change your voice at all when ordering coffee as Red Robin." Danny says flatly.

"That's fair and also explains why you were okay with me canceling dates last minute. I should invest in a voice changer or something."

"I think you'll be fine, sweetheart. I have a habit of remembering voices of people I’m crushing on, and heightened hearing makes that a little easier."

"If you say so… I'm still gonna look into it." Danny can hear Tim's typing pick up. At this rate the both of them won't be going to sleep anytime soon.

"I'm not going to ask how long you've been awake, but for your own health and mine please stop researching and get some rest. Even the dead are asleep right now." Danny pleads. He knows that they both have things to do later in the day, and Danny doesn't want to fall asleep during his classes.

Tim sighs, "Fine, but after your class tomorrow can you actually answer all my questions?"

"Yes, Hun. Now get away from the computer and go to bed." Danny lightly chuckled.

"I’m going, I'm going." Danny can hear the eye roll in Tim's voice. "Night Danny, sweet dreams."

"Goodnight Tim." Danny smiled as the call ended. Glad that he could get his workaholic boyfriend to go to bed, he relaxes back into his own bed and lets sleep take him.

—------- 4

Tim was on the fire escape connected to Danny's apartment. Hoping to break in and set up his notebooks and other things he collected in his research into the Ghost King and by association the Infinite Realms. Unfortunately for him Danny's last class ended early, as can be seen as Danny entering his own apartment the same time Tim crawls through the window. Tim knows he looks like a kid caught red-handed faking a nonexistent Uncle, Danny's deadpan stare didn't make it better.

"Hey, Danny…" Tim drawls as one of his notebooks falls from his grip to the floor.

"Tim, you could have used the door like a normal person." Danny sighed as he set his bag down. Tim took this time to set up on the floor with his notes spread on the coffee table. "Notebooks? That's not usually your style?"

"Yeah, I would have done my usual spreadsheets and docs but apparently Infinite Realms information crashes any and all tech. So, it's old school for now."

"Oh! Yeah, I forgot about that. I can fix that problem for you while we talk, just give me your tablet, or would you prefer your laptop?"

"Tablet please. Would you mind explaining what you're doing to it while fixing it?" Tim was ecstatic, he loved watching Danny work on his inventions. The methodical way Danny assembled work is a wonderful contrast to how they were made; chaotic and from almost nothing.

Danny's smile was absolutely smitten when he turned back to Tim with his tools. "Of course sweetheart. What do you have to ask me?"

"Okay, so I have a lot, so this is going to take a while." Tim starts as he opens a fresh notebook, pen at the ready.

It was hours of revelations and notebook after notebook. Danny was patient and explained everything the best he could. Tim was pretty sure Danny would ask for his notes after this with how thorough he's being. He honestly wouldn't be this thorough unless it was for a case, but Danny can't remember to tell anyone anything important for the life (death) of him.

"Yeah, parts of the Realms are just kinda ocean-like randomly, so if you visit we have to watch out for that." Danny explained with little fanfare.

"Why are the Infinite Realms like this?" Tim groans emphatically.

"I don't know, man. I just accept and deal with it," Danny replies with a shrug.

"Speaking of things you deal with, you can get summoned, right?"

"Yeah, I can ignore them, technically, but it's like a ringing that keeps getting louder and more annoying till I answer it."

"Huh, interesting. So, does that mean it can be used as an excuse to get out of meetings?" Tim asks with mischief lacing his words

"I… holy shit, I think it can!!!" Tim can see the excitement spread across Danny's face at the realization.

"We are trying it for our next cuddle night, if what is in this book is correct." Tim hands Danny the book he took from Justice League Dark. It's open to a summoning array with instructions underneath it.

"Oh, this is wrong. The array itself is good but the instructions on placement and gifts are either wrong or too vague."

"Oh? I should tell JLD, then."

"Nah, don't. It'll keep me from getting summoned, plus they can always ask you if they need to summon me. Seeing that I'm giving you the correct one."

"Fair, but you better give me all the materials for it then."

"Tim, if it's you summoning me all you need is a small offering and a drop of your blood." Tim looks at Danny in confusion. Danny shakes his head in amusement. "The closer I am to a person, the less required to summon me. At some point all you need is the array and a bit of your blood."

"Oh, that's pretty smart and seems like a perfect way to cause trouble for others" a sly smile spills onto his face, thinking about all the possibilities this could bring.

"Oh, yeah! The amount of times Sam has summoned me at galas is too many to count." Danny's grin is unnaturally wide, with too sharp canines that make Tim swoon as Danny launches into a story of gala shenanigans.

—----- 5

Danny was curled around Tim in his ghost form, acting as an ice pack for his boyfriend's sore ribs. The idiot was overtaxing himself on patrol and took one too many hits. Danny doesn't mind some ghostly cuddling, but he would like it if Tim looked after himself more.

Tim relaxes into Danny more as he types away on his computer. Danny glances at Tim's screen to see that he is looking into the effects the Infinite Realms has on the mortal realm. Which would be sweet if he wasn't using it as a distraction from being banned from current cases.

"Tim, you're supposed to be resting. You know, off the laptop?" Danny lifts his head from Tim's shoulder to actually look at him in the eyes.

Tim sighed, not stopping his typing. "This is resting, I'm barely even hacking into the government."

"Why are you like this?"

"The trauma,” he replied sarcastically. “But anyway, it looks like the government was doing experiments at one point but stopped." Tim hummed as the clicking of the keyboard picked up speed.

“Oh, that’s just the Ghost Investigation Ward.” Danny lets his head drop to his boyfriend’s shoulder, closing his eyes. Tim’s typing only quickened with time and the new information given to him.

“Danny, why are there files about their multiple attempted captures of you, and different files detailing experiment plans that involve vivisecting you‽” Tim was no longer relaxed against Danny’s body.

“I thought they deleted those.” Danny srutines the screen, looking for anything to tell him what has happened to the plans. There in the top right corner is what he was looking for. “Sweetheart, the plans have been defunct, like we worked out when they were getting their shit together.”

“They hunted you for sport,” Tim’s unimpressed stare bore into the side of Danny’s head.

“They got better… morally.Not at the hunting thing,” Danny sighed. “Look, before senior year Tucker, Sam, and I spent the whole summer essentially reforming them. It took a lot of effort but they are ethical now, and even helped fix the shit they wrecked. I promise you they aren't a problem anymore.” Danny pleads.

“Fine.” Tim relents for a moment. "How did you even get them to reform? From what I've read they were pretty biased."

Danny's carefree smile turns sharp. "Blackmail and aggressively shoving evidence to prove them wrong in their faces."

Tim lets out a fond huff as he rolled his eyes, as if he hasn't done worse as Robin. Tim finally lets himself relax, body goes limp against the cold form wrapped around him. A yawn escapes as he feels the pull of sleep cling to him.

“Tired enough to sleep now?” Amusement colored Danny’s voice.

Tim closes his laptop and sets it on a part of the couch not occupied. “Yeah, carry me to bed?”

Danny chuckled as he gently picked up the injured boy and floated them to Tim's bed.

—----- +1

When Tim walked into Danny's apartment he didn't expect to see him putting what was probably Lazarus water into small vials. It looked like he had been doing this for a while. There were several different bags full of the glowing vials with the one he was filling now being one of the last.

"Danny, what are you doing?" Tim asked the dark haired boy, already expecting what the answer might be.

"Remember how I'd said I would look into the Lazarus pits for Jason?" Danny replies as he reaches for more empty vials. Tim hums and moves the vials closer to him. “Turns out to do that I need a shit ton of samples for Frostbite, so here we are.”

Tim sets his things down and settles into helping his boyfriend. "How was dealing with the League of assassins?"

"It was fine. They didn’t notice me, surprisingly.” Danny shrugs, putting more filled vials away.

“I wouldn’t say it was surprising they don’t know about ghosts.” Tim points out.

“Fair. I had a look around, they have a lot of interesting things in their base.”

“Oh, did you take anything besides the lazarus water?” Tim wonders what caught Danny’s attention. From what he remembers it could be just about anything from swords to priceless pieces of art.

“No, but I did see what I’m pretty sure was a spleen in a jar!” Danny’s smile grew almost inhumanly big. “Tim, get this! It was fucking labeled! Labeled!” Danny’s excitement is clear in his voice. Tim couldn’t completely focus on it. He only knows of one spleen that was removed under the care of the league.

“What was it labeled?” Tim asked, nervousness creeping into his voice. Please don’t be his spleen.

Danny’s giggling was barely contained as he answered, “Ra's al Ghul’s emotional support spleen. Outsourced from RR.”

“HE PICKLED MY SPLEEN!!” Tim shouts, startling Danny into almost dropping the vial in his hand.

Danny looks at Tim in confusion for a solid five seconds before Tim saw a look of realization bloom on his face. “Oh Ancients, RR stands for Red Robin. What the fuck! Wait, you’re missing your spleen! How did your spleen end up there??” Danny’s distress only rises as Tim doesn't answer him.

“So. I may have forgotten to tell you something.” Tim says as his clearly innocent smile wobbles with hidden laughter.

“You think so‽” sarcasm dripping from Danny’s voice. “Ancients Tim! Is this how you felt with me?”

“Yes. Suffer.” Tim didn’t mean for this to happen but he will take this happy coincidence for everything it has.

----------- Tag List

@kyrianclawraith , @alice-hazelwood , @phoenixdemonqueen , @may-rbi , @mimilikey , @undead-essence

#dpxdc #tim drake #danny phantom #danny fenton #ghost king danny #5+1 fic #tim drake x danny fenton #Petals and Arrays of The Dead and Those Yet To Be #dp x dc fic #Writing on the walls

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sandy-the-glader · 10 months

Note

maybe a george x grumpy! reader who never really smiles or shows emotion and George kinds makes it his secret mission to do that

Come on I see that smile!

Character: George Karim x Fem!Reader

Type: fluff

Length: 1.7K Words

Summary: Ever since you got to Portland row all it has been is neutral faces, anger and frowns. But George seems to be curious about what your smile looks like… for research purposes of course!

Trope: Grumpy x Sunshine (sorta)

A/n: Sorry if this is bad I've been trying to get back into writing btw maybe a tad bit of ooc George? Anyways this is a mix of second and first-person. Lmao lastly the format and like the 4 and 1 idea came from this fic so go check it out!

4 tries and 1 unintentional victory

Baked goods

Large raindrops pattered against the kitchen window of 35 Portland Row, creating a relaxing rhythm. I sprawled out articles and other various newspapers across the table. There wasn't much information on this house, no visitors had been reported before this caller. No murder cases from that house or interesting behaviors. I jotted down as many notes as I could on a surprisingly clean part of the thinking cloth.

A loud knock echoed through the house. I was too sucked into finding information and suspicious parts about this house to answer the door. Thankfully, I heard someone (most likely George) quickly dash to the door and handled with whatever it was. I assumed it was Arif since it was a quick interaction and the scent was so strong I could already smell it. Damn it smelled good.

George's quick footsteps dashed down to the kitchen, quickly landing the box on an available part of the table. I quickly drew my eyes back to the pages scanning for something remotely helpful. The worst case was going in cold.

"How's the case going?" George came to look at the papers and my progress. His fingers traced my handwriting.

"Not good. There is not a single thing tied to this house. And she said I have to be there in a week." I said with a dry expression. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw George rock back and forth on his heels before he spoke again.

"Well um, I got you extra of your favorite this week." I looked up at him. "If you need to take a break they are there." He offered.

"Thank you I appreciate that." George looked somewhat upset with my reaction. Why? I'm not exactly sure

"Yeah.." He grabbed a chocolate donut from the box and sighed on the way out of the room. I hope he’s okay.

Did I do something wrong?

"Is that a donut??" I heard Lucy call out from the stairs. "I didn't even know we had those!" maybe a break wouldn’t hurt…

2. Stress Cleaning

Sure this was more for George than it was for you but he hoped to kill 2 birds with one stone. He had spent the whole evening cleaning the house. Kitchen, library you name it. He left the bedrooms for last.

He knocked softly on your door and waited for a reply before going up the stairs. There wasn't much to clean in your's and Lucy's shared area besides maybe the windows and a few pieces of clothing needed to be picked up off the ground.

You were reading a book on your bed instead of trying to find more information on that house. You needed a break and your mind was just tired from searching article upon article. You had 3 more days and thought to hell with it I'll just do my best.

"What's up, George?" You peered over your book and at the boy. "Oh." From seeing his apron and blue gloves you already knew he meant cleaning. "You know you don't always have to clean up after us." He shook his head.

"You know cleaning is one of my favorite things right?" He cleaned every single day. Not even kidding. You can't remember the last time you've seen the house jaw-droppingly dirty. Because it never has been. For the many months you’ve been here George has done a fantastic job with keeping the house organized.

"That is true. I do feel bad sometimes." You hummed. "Well thank you." George quirked a small smile but you just nodded in acknowledgment.

Well, it was worth a try. He sighed quietly.

3. Favorite food

He knew as soon as you stepped through the door and slammed it shut, he had made a good decision. Another thing on George's list of "Y/n's smiles" was dinner. Sure food didn't work as well last time this was different.

He heard you curse at something and then throw your rapier into its spot by the door. You took in a deep breath through your nose trying to contain your anger from the trip and not make a lot of noise considering the time but you smelt something. Something so heavenly that's all you needed right now. Food.

You quickly went down the stairs and saw George in his apron Moving around the kitchen.

"Smells great Georgie. It's 3 am you didn't have to." She frowned feeling a bit bad for keeping him up.

"It's really no problem at all." He loved cooking so really it was just fun. "Looks like you had a fun night." She rolled her eyes and groaned. He leaned against a cabinet and glanced at you up and down. Your hair was very messy, traces of ectoplasm was all over your shoes and the bottom of your pants, and you were just really wanting food and a shower.

"Sarcasm. Not now I beg of you. But really the food smells fantastic." A sneaky smile formed on George's lips, not yours though you were far too tired to even think about it.

"Alright. Food's ready anyway." He brought two servings of the food over to the table placing one in front of you and the other across from you. "Do you want to talk about it?" He offered sitting down in front of his food.

"It was awful! The source was in a completely different part of the house than she thought and it was just disastrous!" You complained. He sat there and listened to your troubles like you always did with him.

You finally had a bite of the food and you felt at ease.

“George Casper Karim why can you cook so well?” He smiled downward. You didn’t smile you just had this tired yet calm look on your face.

“I have more talent than just touch.” He joked. She was right though the food did taste amazing.

“Yes you do.” George wasn’t entirely mad at the fact you didn’t smile but he did enjoy the compliment.

4. A New Sweater

George scanned the shelves of your favorite store looking for something you would like. There were plenty of things your style but what caught his eye was a sweater.

Your closet was full of them. Lucy too and so a sweater could be another candidate for his "Y/n's smiles" list.

It wasn’t too thick nor too light because he knew you were sorta picky when it comes to sweaters. And a bonus was it was one of your favorite colours.

He held it in his hands but, he double and even triple-checked the store for something you might like better. But he did not and he went and brought it up to the counter to pay.

The cashier was nice but she had mistaken George as your boyfriend which made him blush furiously and confirm the two of you were just close friends. The cashier didn’t buy it. She gave him a small disbelieving look and he tried to ignore it.

He was impressed by how well she wrapped up the sweater and put it in a really nice bag.

When he came back the house was insanely quiet, mainly because Lockwood was out of the house and Lucy was training in the basement. You had decided to have a lazy day you were mainly just in your bed or in front of your desk.

But he noticed you were making tea in the kitchen so he quietly ran upstairs to put your gift on your bed. And then he snuck back down to his room to wait for your return.

You held a cup in your hand and carefully walked upstairs. You were confused when finding a gift on your bed mainly because no one really gave you gifts out of the blue. A small gasp escaped your lips when you reached into the bag and pulled out a sweater. You held the sweater close. It was the right size it was quite a shocker

You didn't think Lucy even knew your size.

"Surprise." George came back up the stairs. You went and hugged him. He was slightly taken aback by the gesture. He wasn't exactly a hugger but he wrapped his arm around you and squeezed gently.

"Thank you, George. You do so much for me." Again he wasn't exactly angry that it had failed because he's never had a hug that felt this relaxing. He was feeling loved. "Anything." He said simply. You pulled back and ruffled his hair.

"You're too good for me."

George returned to his room and took a pen and struck off another idea on a sticky note above his desk. But he did put a small heart next to it.

5. Quality Time.

"Wanna go the archives with me? Lucy and Lockwood already said no but they were caught up in their own thing." George huffed. You sat up immediately and shoved a bookmark into your book. You cracked a half smile.

"I would love to." You sprung up and grabbed your bag and shoes. "They never want to go with me either." Still, a small smile plastered on your face.

George was shocked in the 3 months he knew you that's all it took? Just going to the archives? He would have groaned if he wasn't so happy for finally making you smile. The look was so unfamiliar on you but he definitely knew he wanted to see it more.

"I don't know why I never asked you." You chuckled softly. That was a complete lie. You didn't want to admit it or make it obvious that you have a raging crush on the other boy while being alone and so very close to him doing what you loved most.

George didn't even think about your comment. A chuckle? George's expectations were exceeded. He thought you would shrug it off and either go and keep to yourself or kindly decline.

"Come on Georgie!" You practically skipped out of the room, brushing past his shoulder and sending a jolt through his body. His heart swelled and he was honestly quite boastful at the moment. If he could shout it at the world he would. He felt like he deserved something for making Y/n L/n smile. But seeing your smile was an award in itself.

George followed her out of the house and down to explore the archives.

#george karim #george cubbins #george karim x reader #lockwood and co #save lockwood & co #george karim x you

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