#my brain cells holding a conference

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Same as it ever was 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can't catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: Hope yall like this one!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Everyone knows to keep their head down when Mr. Hansen walks through the department. As often as he already has a gripe in his belly, he is just as likely to be looking for a victim to accost. You keep your head down as you sense him trawling the bullpen, his figure a speck at the corner of your eye.

You keep an ear pricked, call it paranoia, but you've witnessed the sort of suffering he can rain down on the unexpecting. You browse the spreadsheet, carefully inputting numbers cell by cell. You withhold a sigh, not wanting to give away any clue of your existence.

"Kendra," he leans on the blonde's desk, his other hand on his hip, "pretty name…"

She thanks him. The new girl is always his favourite novelty. It's these moments that make you even more thankful for the obscurity that comes with age. And more disgusted by the unchanging behaviour of creepy men.

"There's this conference next month, good experience for a temp," he offers, "what about it, sweetheart?"

If it was any other man, you might clear your throat to let him know you can hear him. To remind him of professionalism. Too dangerous. You feel a twinge of pain at letting the twentysomething flounder against his undeniable proposal.

"Far away so… we'd have to fly out," he continues and you shift in your chair unthinkingly. You can't help it, you've been there, you've had to smile and fawn, to pretend your skin isn't crawling. "...pack something pretty."

Your elbow hits your pen and it rolls off the edge of your desk. You wheel back to grab and dare a peek over at Mr. Hansen in his predatory posturing. His eyes are drawn to you and he squints as he rolls his tongue behind his lower lip. Shit.

You sit up quickly, repressing a groan at the pang in your lower back, and roll up to your desk. You cradle your face, hiding behind your hand as you scroll and pretend to be enraptured by your screen. You doubt you're enough to distract him from the beautiful blonde.

"They got room service up in Gaines," he continues, "think about it."

He taps two fingers on her desk as he pushes off. You expect him to strut back to his office but continues his walk of the floor. You shrink down and curl your shoulders, looking at your cold coffee in desperation. A good excuse to get away from your desk but you can already hear him rebuking you for getting up just for another cup.

You click to the next sheet in the file as he nears. You stiffen as he comes behind you, holding your breath as you wait for him to pass. You feel him pause and hear the subtle scuff of his sole. You nearly jump as he puts his hands on your shoulders.

He leans in, his overpriced cologne tickling at the migraine in the back of your brain. You select a cell and pull up a report for comparison. He watches you work without a word, hands firmly on your cardigan.

He shoves away suddenly and claps his hand as he twists on his heel.

"Alright team, back to work," he demands as if the whole floor must be rapt by his presence, "no fucking around."

You let out a breath of relief. You glance over at Kendra as she gives a cringe at his back. You want to commiserate but you'd hate to make her feel more awkward.

You wait until you're certain Hansen is in his office and take your half-finished coffee to the kitchen. You rinse it out and dry it before placing it on the tray of the machine. You put a pod in and select the size, standing back with crossed arms to watch it brew.

You hear someone behind you but don't look over. The shadow approaches the fridge and pulls it open, taking out a container seemingly at random. You turn your head and blanch at Mr. Hansen as he cracks the communal carton of milk meant for coffee and drinks directly from it. You try not to show your disgust.

"Morning," he swipes the back of his hand across his mustache, "want some?"

He offers the carton as you grab your mug and shake your head, "no, thank you, sir."

"On a diet? Keeping the dairy low?" He wonders before taking another gulp then looks at the label. "Ugh, who the fuck ordered skim?" 

You muster an awkward smile. You've never been good at office politics, you don't pander, you just mind your business and so your work. A good day is when no one bothers you.

He puts the carton back without closing it. You retreat slowly, realising he's between you and the door. You try to sidle past as he reaches into the fridge again. He steps back, nearly into your path and examines the tupperware. You stop short as you recognise the worn teal lid; it's your leftovers from the night before, your name clearly labelled on the top.

"Huh," he peels back the lid and smells the chili, "smells delish…" he dips his fingers to your shock and sucks it off shamelessly, "hell of a cook." He says, a tinge of red in his mustache.

"Uh, thanks, I should–"

"You should?" He arches a brow, "you should… keep your nose out of my conversations and focus on your own work, right?"

"I don't know what you mean–"

"I saw you. Squirming like a caterpillar," he snaps the lid back into place and tosses the whole container on the bin beside the fridge, "look, I know at your age, there’s not much excitement but it doesn't mean you needa eavesdrop on matters that don't concern you."

"I didn't–"

"I get it, you're jealous, your ass blew up after the kids and your husband hasn't looked at you in years–"

"Sir," you say affronted but more stung by the accuracy, "please, I wasn't–"

"Oh, yes, you weren't listening because you have a deadline," he steps closer and wraps his hand around your mug. He wiggles it free of your grasp and you let him, "I moved the budget review to tomorrow morning so…" he pauses and swigs the coffee while snapping his fingers with his other hand, "snap, snap on those expense reports."

You stand, stunned and shamed. He spins nonchalantly and strides out, still sipping your fresh coffee. You let your head fall back and groan. Not only are you out the extra caffeine boost but you have to call the babysitter.

🗄️

You don't mourn your lunch as you likely wouldn't have the time to eat. You spend it outside, below the awning of the building as rain pours over the edge. You have your phone in hand and a needling in your skull. This sort of weather always gives you a headache.

On the fifth try, Pete picks up and you swallow a sigh, "hey," you say abruptly, checking your watch.

"Hey, what's up? I had to leave a meeting," he hisses low, out of breath.

"I'm sorry, I just need to know what time you're expecting to be home. The sitter can only stay until seven but I have to stay late–"

"Late? Honey, you know I can't guarantee I'll be there. I'm working my ass off tryna get this thing off the ground. Grinding–"

"I know, I know, but we could use the overtime and… I don't really have a choice."

"Can't you do tomorrow?"

"Pete, it's one night–"

"One night? It's a call I'm not making–"

"Please," you beg, "we need the money, you know we do."

He puffs and blows a raspberry, "shoulda told that sitter to stick around…" he grumbles.

"We can't even afford to pay her for the extra," you mutter.

"I fucking know–"

"Don't swear at me," you warn, "if you hadn't bought that damn corvette–"

"Not doing this again. I'll be home at seven. Happy?"

You roll your eyes, "yeah," you lie. Happy, no, that's not something you feel anymore.

"Pete," a female voice purrs and he hushes them.

"Got it, Anita," he clears his throat, "tell them I'm on my way back."

"Sorry to keep you," you chew your lip, "I'll let you go."

"Sure," he scoffs.

"See ya tonight," you soften your tone, "love ya."

Click. The call ends and you're left dangling. You pull your phone away and look at the screen. No point in using up the last of your break, you might as well just go back to your desk.

🗄️

Your vision glosses as you stare at the messily painted portrait of a house and tree. The sitter sent a picture of Simone's latest artwork and tugs on your impatience to get out of there. You wish you could be there to pick up your kids and hear all about their day. 

Most times you spend the hours after work cooking, cleaning, and trying to rein them in. You're not fun like Emma, their sitter, you're always the voice of reason, the strict ruler of discipline. You send back a heart and black the screen.

Another person packs up for the day, once more tightening the chain that attaches you to your desk. You lean forward, your head pulsing as the brim of your vision blurs. The advil did nothing against your migraine.

You hold your forehead as you squint at the numbers. This is going to take forever. Pushing a budget meeting up one week surely is a personal attack. You need to work on your poker face, you can't do this again. You're too old and tired.

You yawn and fight to keep your eyes open. Maybe Pete can do bath time. You almost snort at that. Right, and hippos are bright pink and friendly.

You shake your head and lean back, trying to stretch out the kinks. You hear the elevator. Eventually you'll get there. 

You look around, realising the desolation of your predicament. Not too many people left, at least not those without offices. You roll each ankle, arches achy just from your low heels.

Your phone buzzes and you ignore it. It's six-thirty. You let it go to voicemail and save your file for good measure.

You think of having another coffee but that will only make your head throb and your night sleepless. Well, more than usual. 

Your cell starts to jitter again. You're agitated as you snatch it up. It's 7:03. Emma's number greets you in blaring white digits. Dammit, you already know what's going on.

You answer, saving again as you wheel the chair back and reach into the drawer to fish out your purse. You keep the phone to your ear as you say 'hi' and struggle to get your jacket on. Pete!

"Hi, um, I'm still waiting for someone to show up–"

"I'm so sorry, Em," you shut off the monitor without bothering to boot down, "Pete said he'd be there. I'm on my way now."

You step around your chair, nearly tripping over it and push it in behind you. You rush across the office in a clomping gait, half-running as you weigh coming in at 4am and convincing security to let you up early. You continue to apologise to Emma as you promise to be home as soon as you can.

You hang up and dial Pete. As you near the elevator, his voicemail plays and you sneer, hitting end and dialing out again. You poke the down button several times and wait for an answer.

"Pick up!" You growl to no one.

"All done for the night?" A lilting taunt brings you around to face Mr. Hansen as he runs a small comb through his mustache, "you work fast."

"Mr. Hansen, I… I have an emergency–"

"Ah, so you're not done," he tuts, "I figured you'd be used to working fast. I'm sure the old man only last about five seconds, huh?"

"Sir," you bite back your offence, "my kids–"

"Aw, mommy's running late for supper. Let me guess, the dead beat can't even boil water."

You want to shriek. Can this man not shut up? This day just won't end and it's really all his fault. You're welling up and about to explode.

"Please," you utter.

"Oh, come on, you got exactly what you wanted, didn't you? Kids, a husband, the whole nine yards," he tucks the comb into his front pocket, "didn't anyone ever tell you they stop fucking you once you pop at a couple watermelons?"

You gulp. What is happening? Your throat tightens up and your eyes glaze. It shouldn't bother you, he's a gross old pervert but what are you? A bitter and sad old woman.

"You're not going to cry, are you? A strong working lady like yourself? Nah, you can hold it in, for the kids. You got a daughter don't ya, you wouldn't want her to see you break–"

You take a step towards him and stop yourself, palm itching to smack him. You raise your chin and bat your lashes. 

"I'll finish the reports at home. I need to go take care of me kids," you fight to keep your voice steady.

"That's the thing about you moms, always the martyr, always looking for special treatment cause you let a guy drop a load indoors," he sneers, "and you're just gonna raise a couple of brats to go off and live the same boring lives."

"Stop," you croak.

"If you're gonna cry, just do it," he goads, "huh, maybe it's menopause kicking in early? All that stress–"

"Good night, Mr. Hansen," you say curtly and face the elevator just as the doors slide apart, "I'll have the numbers done. I promise."

"Oh, I know you will," he snickers, "but you still owe me. For being such an understanding boss, you know?"

You turn around and grimace in confusion. Owe him? He winks and smirks back, "say hi to the kiddos for me."

The doors shut and you close your eyes, hanging your head in defeat. You're going to be up all night, less than ready for the review and certainly unprepared for Mr. Hansen. You can only hope by then he finds a new target.

[delta-altair]

Angry rant ahead. I've been holding back on this one but I woke up at 3am this morning to prep for a virtual astronomy conference in a European time zone next week so whoops it's what I actually feel in words instead of in vague reblogs.

Just as I have never forgiven the people who caused 2016 to happen, I will *never* forgive the Beltway media, podcast bros, pollsters who think they're the goddamn oracles at Delphi, and fauxgressive fucking idiots for this.

First of all, if I here one sniveling whining "But Kamala is a cawwwwwp-" -- if you do not posses the common sense to understand that a chaotic, open convention where the disunity of the Democratic party is on full national display would be a stake through the heart of the campaign -- WHOEVER is chosen -- then sorry but you aren't smart enough to comment on this!!! Sorry if that's fucking mean but it's true. For once the left (and I mean from the center to the wall, the whole thing yes) collectively needs to shut the fuck up, get in line, and focus on one goddamn thing for the next three and a half months.

Second, I had a much longer post with plots and everything I was going to make about the last Canadian election, but I'll make it short now. This is about *polls*, aka the "reason" why this happened (it's not, it was the media forcing the issue by refusing to show the public anything else about Biden and his accomplishment, but anyway...). Feel free to skip (but there's a cat at the bottom for anyone who actually reads my rantings), the tl;dr is that you should not trust any poll more than a week out from the election because the average person is a fucking moron.

So polling just before the previous election was called (Canadian elections are different, they can happen before the 4 year mark if the PM decides) all showed a healthy Liberal (center-left) lead. Probably majority if it holds. "If an election was held today, who would you vote for?", that was the question. But then the Liberals call the election and SURPRISE, guess what happens? They tumble in the polls so drastically they fall below the Conservatives (right) in overall vote share almost immediately. They held onto a minority in parliament because of how our systems works (we have 5 seat holding parties), but still, they took a huge hit. Why? Did some scandal happen the week after the election was called? Did the Conservatives promise everyone a free puppy if they won? No.

No, nothing happened. The reason why the Liberals fell in the polls was that people were mad that they called an early election. Despite the fact that the polls that some of the same people definitely took asked the question "If an election were held today, who would you vote for?" I guess the average person didn't have enough brain cells to rub together to understand that if an election is happening then the Liberals would have necessarily called an election. I know this sounds circular and stupid but that is literally it!! A bunch of people said "Yeah I'd vote for the Liberals if an election was happening today. Oh the Liberals (the only people who CAN) called an election, I don't like that, so I'm not going to vote Liberal."

So miss me with literally any poll that is not a week out from the actual election event. They are all nonsense. It turns out that you cannot predict human stupidity to a statistically significant degree.

We are *also* in a regime where the only thing that really matters now is turnout, and turnout is much harder to poll than voter preference, so that's another kick against polling.

I don't really have a coherent ending for this. I'm not in total doom mode because a lot of things can still turn out ok, technically. But I still remember the feeling I felt when a huge portion of American said "actually, saying you can assault women and grab them by their pussies any time you want is actually not disqualifying for being president, but we're going to make up a bunch of bullshit to explain why we're not voting for Hillary" and I still do not trust most of you because of this.

You have once chance to not totally fuck this up. Treat it seriously.

Here's my cat to brighten your day. Her name is Jupiter.

[clonedchaos]

This is what goes on in my head 24/7 and I’m not even joking.

Batim and Jurassic are constantly engaged in a slap fight over who gets control of the brain cell that day, Monsterverse occasionally comes in to WWE body slam the others, while FNAF is just chilling in the background and takes control when the others aren’t looking.

Instead of Inside Out emotions, my brain is literally controlled by my comfort characters who hold a conference together and can’t agree on anything. /j

Why would this be a funny and stupid story idea?

[callmemana]

Arms May Be Wide Open, But The Brain Cells Aren’t There: #26

Birdie: Bam, will you go out with me?

Bob: sodium.

Birdie: what do you mean ‘NA’? I thought you’d say Potassium!

Bob: …you learnt chemistry jokes?

Birdie: and I learnt pick up lines! You’re Copper plus Tellurium!

Bob: Cu…plus…Te

Birdie: ;)

Bob: I take back my Sodium. Potassium, Bird, Potassium!

[somewhere in the distance]

Mr. Floyd: …what have I raised?

Mrs. Floyd: whatever you’ve raised, he’s a monster and an idiot.

Enemy: die, aviator!

Birdie: hold on let me ask my mom.

Enemy: no wait-

Birdie: Whiskey said no.

Enemy: that’s not how this works-

Birdie: I can ask Slider!

Enemy: NO

Birdie: he said no and he’s on his way!

Slider: what a long day. I need a drink. Something to take the edge off.

Lucky: *a Gen-Z kid w/ dark humor* bleach.

Slider:

Slider: Luck, do we need to talk?

Slider: *calls Mouse & Birdie daughter once in public*

Media: Raven Fischer & Amanda Hallett or Raven Kerner & Amanda Kerner?

Media: RON KERNER’S ILLEGITIMATE DAUGHTERS?

Ice: Slider, you need to do a press conference to sort this out. Just tell them that their not your daughters.

Slider: *at the press conference* hello yes these are my daughters Raven Fischer-Kerner & Amanda Hallett-Kerner, the heirs to my and my wife, Whiskey’s legacy, fortune, and my house.

Ice: why do I even try?

Ice: alright, so this mission-

Birdie: Mr. Iceman sir I need to use the restroom.

Slider: *rolling his eyes* bird, you can just go.

Birdie: is- is there a bathroom pass?

Slider: a what?? No, bird, the bathroom is right down the hall-

Ice: what’s a bathroom pass?

Birdie: it’s like a random object you bring so everyone knows you’re allowed to be out and about.

Mav: *perking up* a random object you say? *holds up a wrench* will this work?

Birdie: I mean? I guess? *grabs and leaves* thanks Mav!

Whiskey: *who happened to be walking down the hallway and sees bird holding the wrench* wAIT!

[describing a bad pilot’s attitude]

Lucky: loner, invisible, outcast, boiling rage- *phone rings*

Lucky: *keeps getting called all day* son of a bitch! Hi this is Lieutenant Baylie Garcia. I actually can come to the phone right now, with a very special message that your mother-

Mouse: *stern mother voice* Lucky-

Lucky: I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.

Slider: Mouse, what did I tell you about lying?

Mouse: to do it more often.

Slider: exactly! I’m so proud of you!

Bob: I think all you need is a hug *hugs bird*

Birdie: what is this?

Bob: a hug.

Birdie: disgusting.

Birdie:

Birdie: do it again, i ask of you!

Mouse: *captured and strapped to a metal table* do you know the muffin man?

Omaha: *also captured* babe I swear-

Capturer: the muffin man?? What the-

Mouse: YES! THE MUFFIN MAN!

Capturer: the… one who lives on drury- wait is this a Shrek reference?

Mouse: FINALLY! You owe me five bucks Omaha. I told you a bad guy would get it one day!

Birdie: I just electrocuted myself.

Cinco: how shocking.

Mouse: how do you feel currently?

Birdie: I feel kinda amped.

Lucky: watt I can’t hear you?

Birdie: I said it hertz a lot

Spicy: are they okay?

Whiskey: this is normal, they’re fine.

Dragon: but she was jus-

Bob: she’s fine. I’d be more concerned if she wasn’t making puns.

Dragon’s Angels📻: @dragon-kazansky @mrsjaderogers @bayisdying @starlit-epiphany @gracespicybradshaw @breadsquash

🏷️ list: @luckyladycreator2

[a-halfblood-named-coin]

Long Rant Post

Today I am using this hell site for one of its many purposes: vomiting real feelings into the void so that I might be free of them. If anyone WANTS to hear about the, in my opinion, intense bullying of my middle aged, cancer survivor mother at her work place, then please! Stay for my rage and anger.

First, my mom. My mother prides herself on many things, but mostly her honesty. She wears her emotions on her sleeves and will always be 100% honest with people. She doesn't hide anything, she's an open book and always willing to discuss. This is something you would know about her after only speaking to her for a couple minutes, it is a core part of her personality. That is what makes this so frustrating. ANYONE could tell you that my mother never lies, never says anything less that what she feels and would never mislead people. And yet, people who have worked with her for almost 10 years area CONSTANTLY accusing her of all of that and more.

Now, background. This is a small company, like in total about 11 employees including my mother and the CEO. It was started by people that my mother had a close working relationship with over 20 years ago at a different company, they know her and her work pretty damn well. I mean, fuck it, her most recent letter of recommendation was WRITTEN BY THE FUCKING CEO. For most of the time here, my mother has worked a help desk of sorts with one other person, fucking Jerry. Jerry, is a dick. Plain and simple. For literal years, he was on thin ice with the company and almost fired because he would disappear on "walks" or stay in the bathroom for hours at a time. Not to mention, rude to customers, dismissive of their issues and his general douch baggery. I mean, customers have even said they hate talking with him, and hope he isn't the one who answers the phone. The only reason they didn't fire him was because of his knowledge in programming and similar computer mumbo jumbo. Him and my mother never got along, but it was never important.

Then a lot of stuff happens at once.

ONE: I didn't just mention my mothers cancer fight for sympathy points, its fucking relevant. My mother, after 2 months of intense vertigo and walking problems, is diagnosed with a brain tumor. This is, OBVIOUSLY, fucking devastating for our whole family. I remember breaking down sobbing in our garden when she told me, I thought my mother was going to die. Thank fuck it wasn't IN her actual brain, and it could be removed (it did leave her with permanent numbness in her face though, poor thing ). So obviously, that kind of diagnoses requires appointments upon appointments, especially since she had to have daily radiation treatments for months to get rid of the excess cancer cells. She reports this all to her job, and they tell her to take whatever time she needs. It is an extreme circumstance they won't hold against her, like any decent fucking person would. I mean, my mother felt SO BAD taking the time she needed, she did everything in her power to keep her work performance up. I'm telling you, she showed up to a three day conference for work only DAYS after brain surgery on a walker because she wanted to show that she was making an effort. Then the pandemic hits and all the staff start working from home, all they do is sit on computers and phones anyway?

TWO: then, about 1 year ago, maybe a little less, Jerry gets promoted to a fucking position that didn't previously exist (they also hire another help desk employee). Again, Jerry only still has a job for his tech knowledge, NOT because he's good at running a help center??? Who thought he would do a good job at managing people or a help desk in general? The big wigs give this long annoying explanation why they did it, without even considering outside applicants or internal ones mind you, but that doesn't matter. It seems to be connected to the company getting some big money investors and the current big wigs attempts to grow the business. My mother is rightfully upset, she has run several help centers at other businesses, has a great relationship with customers and would have loved to be considered for the promotion. But whatever right? The other bosses of the help desk previously were mostly hands off, just making sure big extreme issues got fixed quickly.

But Jerry's different, he's a fucking micromanager.

He schedules a daily meeting at 8AM, which means that any customer with an urgent issue won't get a response for at least 30 minutes as the entire team is involved in a meeting.

Forces my mother (and only my mother, again there is only TWO FUCKING EMPLOYEES UNDER THIS MAN) to report when she goes to lunch, when she comes back and so on.

Makes them write fucking essays on concepts and present them like a fucking college class and has them complete extra training.

Then complains they don't close enough problems? Oh, I'm sorry, maybe its due to all this extra work your assigning that's NOT IN MY JOB DESCRIPTION.

But don't get it twisted, he is TARGETING my mom. He makes this whole fucking stink about her scheduled hours, which have been like that since she fucking joined the company. Claiming there is nothing for her to be doing that early in the morning (is 7am early???) even though customers are NOW complaining that they don't get answers forever (because they're in other time zones). He complains about how long she spends on issues, aka she doesn't rush them and handles the customer with respect and grace. Questions every single one of her timesheets that she puts through, implies she's stealing company time?? He is literally threatening to fire her because she was 30 minutes late, he calls her argumentative and combative in every breath.

And here's what pisses me off the most, he put her on some kind of fucking probation for all the sick time she took...

I'm sorry?? You mean that sick time she took to FIGHT CANCER???? YOU MEAN THE SICK TIME SHE TOOK THAT YOU TOLD HER TO TAKE???? THE SICK TIME YOU SAID SHE DIDN'T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT??

Okay fuck, maybe it all wasn't directly related to cancer treatment I can acknowledge that, but it was all genuine sick time or personal emergency? Like when she's up all night in pain and needs some extra sleep, when my fucking sister was in the hospital in surgery, or when my brother needs special exams due to an undiagnosed neurological condition. They are treating her like some fucking criminal for having an awful year, forcing her to take docks in pay or sacrifice vacation time to "pay back" the sick time she took. Is that not fucked up? To tell someone to prioritize their health and then threaten to fire them due to that very same sick time? Like, I won't say they have to do that, but I will say they should stick to their fucking word. This women has put her all into this company, often for no extra pay, for 8 years. Then when she's struggling, when her family is experiencing some of the hardest issues we've had in years, you start to threaten her? What happened to fucking loyalty, respect and morality? No one in the company takes her problems seriously, (There's not even an HR department) and are all sitting by and letting fucking Jerry bully her out of her position. I could sit here and come up with reasons why I think everything is going to shit, (the new investors, Jerry's inferiority complex, the fact that she's the only women around/only person with more than one child, ageism, sexism, etc.) but honestly it doesn't matter.

My mother doesn't deserve this, has done NOTHING less than her absolute best in every situation. Again, I'm not saying the company has to accept it, but the least you can do is reign in the fucking dictator that is actively harassing a women in your workplace. There are ways to critique and change a persons work habits without harassing them, without reducing them to tears on phone calls on a regular basis.

I don't wish ill on anyone, but I won't shed a single fucking tear when Jerry, and all those old white men above him die. I might just take a shot.

[absolutepokemontrash]

Kid!MC/Teen!MC Needs someone to go to Parent Teacher Interviews for Them and Guess Who’s Available?

Masterlist

The brothers being bad babysitters/dad figures is something I love very much, I bet you all could already tell that considering the Fic/Headcanon series I have going on. I would just like you all to know that Asmo’s section is based on a true story. Anyhoo~ onto the Headcanons!

Why? Why Him? (Lucifer)

Is MC really dumb, or are they just a kid? No one knows.

Obviously MC asked Lucifer, the only competent one in the house, the most professional, hard-working, controlled-

MC got their things together and gave Lucifer the run down on their teacher(s) before Lucifer got too absorbed in extolling his own virtues in an intense internal monologue.

News flash Lucifer, this isn’t a Shakespeare play, you can’t have a dramatic monologue or soliloquy about how great you think you are

At the actual meeting, if MC is in there, no, MC is not actually in there. Lucifer will speak to the teacher as if MC isn’t there. As someone whose not a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down kind of person, Lucifer expects the teacher to behave the same and not spare MC’s feelings.

Feelings do not deserve to be spared if MC is being a nuisance. No fake-kid/little sibling of his gets to be the class idiot!

If MC’s doing very well academically, he expects to be pointed at projects or tests they’ve done and the grade on it. It really makes him proud to see MC doing well.

Even if they’re not the best academically, if they’re not failing and they’re doing well in other aspects of school, he’s proud.

If MC really struggles in a school environment and just hates it there but they’re still keeping their head above water, they get a head pat of approval.

On the drive home, if MC came with him to the parent teacher interviews and everything went well, he just happens to turn onto the street that has a Baskin Robin’s or something of that caliber.

If they didn’t go, he picks something up on the way back.

No fun treats if MC is being a disruptive little heathen in class, no kid under Lucifer’s care is going to be the class Mammon. Not on his watch.

MC was busily stuffed their face with the treats that were gifted to them. Lucifer had to hold himself back from rolling his eyes at the kid’s blatant disregard for basic table manners when it came to sweets.

“Is everything the teacher said true?” Lucifer asked, MC looked up at him with a smile.

“Yep!”

“Good, good.” Lucifer held out his hand and patted them on the head. “You’re doing well. Keep it up.”

“Geez,” MC mumbled as they continued to stuff their face. “Can you get anymore affectionate?”

“Don’t be sarcastic, MC. It’s uncouth.” Lucifer said sternly. “Besides, I’ll have you know that many people enjoy my headpats. I’m quite affectionate.”

“Really now? Name one person.”

Lucifer opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He and MC stared each other down, one pair of eyes much more nervous than the other. Spoiler, MC was still calmly eating their treat as they maintained eye contact.

“…Cerberus.”

“If you’re reaching for Cerberus, you’ve already lost.”

…his pride was under attack. Right in front of his desert…

“You’re grounded.”

“Worth it.”

*Rides by on a Skateboard* School is for NERDS (Mammon)

Pff! Stupid human! He’s not goin’ to some lame parent teacher conference-

Wait! What’s with that face?! Ugh… fine. MC’s gone and forced his hand with those damn puppy dog eyes…

Mammon does not dress up for this event, he dresses like he would every day, maybe throw on some designer stuff to let all the parents and teachers know he’s hot shit.

If MC goes with him, he pulls up in his beloved car and takes up two parking spaces (pure evil.). Every parent present already hates him, but at least the other kids there are impressed with MC’s sweet ride. MC would have gained some street cred if Mammon hadn’t managed to trip up the stairs to the classroom in front of everyone.

He’ll act way to casual with the teacher, turning the parent chair backwards and sitting down so he can lean on the seat.

Mammon gets bored crazy quickly while the teacher lists and explains all the stuff the class is learning, so his eyes begin to wander to any and all displays in the classroom. Projects, annoying posters, class pet, anything is more interesting than this teacher’s explanation.

When MC finally becomes the main topic of the interview, he’s all ears. MC’s doing great in school academically? Ha! Nerd! Maybe giving MC a playful noogie and interrupting the whole interview wasn’t a good idea, but whatever.

If MC’s failing anything, or just isn’t that gifted when it comes to grades, it’s very much a “Aw man me too” from Mammon.

This teacher is speaking with the Great Mammon, the first demon in RAD’s history to fail three semesters in a row. If this teacher thinks bad grades will phase him, they’re dead wrong.

Grades don’t mean anythin’ about smarts anyway! I mean, look at him! He’s a fuckin’ genius but he can’t get through a history test without sobbing even though he LIVED THROUGH MOST OF IT.

MC gets treats no matter what’s up in class. Though, if MC didn’t go with him, he’s likely to forget and just order something for the two of them when he gets back home.

“Goddamn teachers and their rambling!” Mammon whined, grabbing a slice of pizza from the open box on his coffee table. “You owe me, MC! Ya really do!”

“Yeah yeah yeah.” MC said, they leaned over and rolled a pizza slice into a pizza-scroll then proceeded to eat it like a veggie roll. “How do you think I feel, listening to them every day? You know how long it takes to get to the actual class material?”

“Five years?”

“Ugh! Five years if I’m lucky! I swear, I know more about my teacher’s grievances with like… five of my classmates than I do about trigonometry, and guess which one’s on the test next week?”

Mammon winced in sympathy, then remembered he was supposed to be whining and went back to it. “School’s shit and a waste of money, ya should drop out as soon as you can and help me run my new business.”

“You mean your pyramid scheme?”

“It’s not a pyramid scheme, MC! It’s legit! It’s a multi-tiered marketing-”

“It’s a pyramid scheme.”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA SOCIAL INTERACTION (Leviathan)

Everyone else must have been sick or something for MC to have asked Levi. He’d flat out refuse to go otherwise.

So, Levi couldn’t exactly go to the interview in his usual “I haven’t left my room or changed clothes in eight weeks” look. With the help of MC, he was able to find his military uniform at the back of his closet.

Asmo nearly fainted when he saw Levi in the uniform, not because “oooo, a man in uniform~”, it was because the outfit was so crumpled and wrinkled that it made it physically painful to look at. No time to iron and wash, the conference was in an hour!

Levi (and MC if they went with) rolled up to the school in a less than impressive ride, but one look at the uniform and all the other people present went “yep, time to be respectful (tm)”

For the first time in his life Levi was more intimidating than Lucifer! And he wasn’t even trying!

When the teacher starts explaining the course material, Levi spaces off in horror as he realizes he remembers literally nothing from school (AND HE’S STILL IN SCHOOL!) all that’s running through his head is “A squared + B squared = C squared” and “the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell”.

The actual interview was the least interesting part of the trip, the real stuff happened when Levi passed by some art on display in the hallway and something caught his eye-

Those colours… that hair… that adorable smile..!

IT WAS HER! LEVI’S PRECIOUS RURI-CHAN IN ALL HER GLORY!

Levi immediately started fawning over the art class fanart and by sheer coincidence, one of the kids walking through the hallway happened to notice.

The kid asked MC if their… parent and or guardian liked anime. MC responded with “obviously.” Levi then asked the kid if they drew his adorable Ruri-chan. The kid said no, and that they drew the My Hero Academia fanart a few rows down.

Levi was absolutely floored that there were two anime fans in one class, then his entire world shattered when MC explained there was more anime art inside the art room and other classrooms.

H-hang on… did that mean that… a lot of people here… liked anime..?

Levi needed a while to process. No snacks on the way home…

Levi and MC were sat in the back of their Uber, Levi, the Avatar of Envy himself, was having his entire sense of reality warped. S-so much anime fanart… in a school of all places..! What did this mean for the future of anime?!

“Levi. Stop.” MC sighed. “If this were an anime, the camera angle would be doing that thing where it’s right on the bridge of your nose and dramatic music plays in the background.”

“S-so many kids in your class like a-anime huh..?” Levi stuttered, weakly trying to smile. “Must be nice..?”

“Oh, that’s just my class. The other classes and grades have their fans too.”

“Oh… really?”

“Levi,” MC stopped looking out the window and looked at the otaku that was having a full scale silent mental breakdown. “Anime isn’t even a niche interest anymore. It’s a pretty casual thing to watch now. At least a third of my class watches- Levi?”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGHHHHH! ANIME! A THIRD OF THE CLASS?! ANIME… HIS PRECIOUS ANIME… WAS BECOMING A NORMIE INTEREST! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

“Levi?” MC waved their hand in front of their spaced out demon’s face. “Leviiiii? Okay he’s dead.”

The Know it All (Satan)

Ah, a smart choice, MC. Satan would be glad to help further their education. He’ll do everything in his power to make sure that the human’s brain is fed all that sweet sweet knowledge.

Satan can’t dress himself normally, MC had to coax him into a suit jacket, but he still only wore one sleeve.

MC was coming along to the interviews whether they wanted to or not, it’s important to hear what they need to improve on from the teacher themselves after all.

The two arrived pretty early, so Satan asked MC for a tour of the school. It was pretty tame until they reached the library. Satan was horrified at the state of some of the books…

Their spines lined with duct tape… pages missing and torn… someone apparently used a taco as a book mark…

The first thing Satan does when it’s time for his interview is demand the teacher take better care of the library, even though they’re not the librarian. MC tries to explain this, but Satan is too distraught to listen to reason.

He enjoyed hearing about the course material, but he made it known if MC thinks the assignments are too easy that they need to be given more challenging work. THEIR BRAIN NEEDS TO BE STIMULATED DAMN IT.

It was up to MC to either agree with Satan and nod to the teacher, or make frantic eye contact with them to try and communicate “NO DON’T PLEASE”.

Similar to (ugh) Lucifer, as long as MC is doing their best, he’s happy for them.

…but if they are in any way in the running for valedictorian he is HELPING THEM WIN.

He decided to stop at a cafe or bookstore to let MC pick out a “congrats on surviving your pitiful school” present after the interviews.

MC gleefully perused the shelves of the bookstore, there were so many books too look at…

“I’ll buy you as many books as you’d like, MC, just,” Satan shuddered slightly. “Promise me you won’t treat them like those poor library books…”

MC put their hand over their heart. “I swear on the duct taped book spines that I will never treat a book like that.”

“Good… good…” Satan breathed a sigh of relief and went back to looking at his book about cats.

“Are you… reading a Warrior Cats book..?” MC asked tentatively.

“Yes, why?”

“Satan, put that back.”

“I Will Seduce the Teacher For the Sake of Your Grades, Don’t Worry.” (Asmodeus)

Oh MC dear! He’d be delighted to go! Just let him get ready~

Asmo may not be the best choice, but he was at least going to be the best dressed person at that conference. (And MC just had to come too so all the other parents could be jealous of how well coordinated their outfits are)

He teased MC a little by saying he was going to flirt with their teacher to make sure they passed the class, but he was just kidding! …but he made sure to ask if their teacher was cute, he needed to know!

While waiting for his turn, Asmo flirts with some of the single parents, if he doesn’t see a wedding ring, they’re fair game.

Once his time slot arrived, MC realized that Asmo is one of those “my child has done and will do nothing wrong ever” types. This may have ended up working in MC’s favour if they were a class nuisance.

If MC is doing very well in sports, clubs, grades, anything, Asmo is fawning over them and gushing to the teacher about how great, smart and adorable they are.

Asmo surprisingly does not exactly flirt with the teacher, he was just teasing MC after all. But um… if MC’s teacher just happens to be cute and young, he may turn up the charm, just a little. Enough to make the teacher giggle and make MC cover their face in embarrassment.

After the interviews Asmo will probably schedule a nice day out for the two of them, shopping, a movie, mani pedis, something fun!

The real weird stuff happens in the months after the interviews… if Asmo did lightly flirt with the teacher, MC gets quite a few questions about their guardian. Questions that ask if Asmo is single in not as many words…

Oh lord, MC’s teacher developed a crush on Asmo.

Nail painting night was supposed to be a fun occasion, but MC was hopping mad and embarrassed. Asmo didn’t seem to notice as he continued to paint the little human’s nails.

“And then I told Phenex to get lost. The nerve of that little monster, right MC?” When MC didn’t reply, Asmo looked up and tilted his head. “MC?”

MC’s angry face would have been much more threatening if they weren’t just so adorable, but it was getting the message across.

“MC..?”

“Asmo.” MC’s glare deepened. “My teacher wants to know if you’re single.”

Asmo blinked a few times, before he hit his tongue to keep from laughing. “Really now~. I knew they’d be madly in love with me-”

“WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIIIIIIIIIIIS?!”

Oh My Demon King is That a BAKE SALE?! (Beel)

Of course Beel said yes! He’d gladly go to MC’s parent teacher interview!

He even put on a nice outfit :D he ended up looking a bit like a secret serviceman guarding MC, the tiny president.

Beel stopped for McDonald’s on the way there, all the other kids were so jealous of MC when they stepped out of the car eating fries.

But a little something something caught Beel’s eye when he and MC walked into the school… was that a… bake sale?

MC quickly explained that the bake sale was fundraiser for their class trip that year and the snacks weren’t complimentary. He had to pay.

And pay Beel did. He cleared out the entire table. MC’s grade’s overnight trip was going to be decadent as hell. That was no longer a crowd funded thing, that trip was privately funded by a tall buff ginger secret service member and this tiny in comparison child.

Kids are incredibly blunt, just like Beel, so when a random kindergarten kid wandered over, looked up at Beel, and very knowingly said “you’re very tall”. Beel was like “yeah”. The kid then said “what’s it like being that tall?”

Beel’s response to this kid’s question was to pick them up and hold them for a few seconds before placing them back down. For just a few moments this kid knew what it like to be over 6’4. Of course, more kids swarmed in and asked to be picked up.

Sure it was cute, but Beel now has an army of kids ranging from kindergarteners to third graders.

Finally, the conference actually began. Beel snacked the entire time and dutifully listened to everything the teacher had to say.

After the interviews are over, he checks with MC to make sure everything the teacher said was true and that they weren’t lying. If all was well, the two made their exit.

They stopped at Wendy’s on the way home.

“I’m so full…” MC groaned, Beel held up a massive cookie.

“So I can eat this?”

“No. Gimme that.” MC took a very defeated bite out of it. “My stomach says no but my mouth says yes…”

“I don’t want you to get a stomachache, MC,” Beel said worriedly. “No more snacks.”

“It’s a little late for that. It’s past nine and I’m still eating, there’s no way I’m getting to sleep at a reasonable hour.”

“Oh…” Beel mumbled. “I may have not completely thought this through.”

“*Snore* Huh? Wha? MC’s Grades? Uh… Fuck…” (Belphie)

MC must be failing a class or something because why on earth would they pick Belphie otherwise.

They ask him to go while he’s delirious from just waking up from a nap, he sort of half nods and mumbles some gibberish before going back to sleep.

MC had to basically carry his ass to the school. Belphie drooled all over them in the waiting room, and when it was their time to go into the interview, Belphie had to be manually put into the chair and slapped awake.

He barely listens, he just sits and nods along with whatever the teacher is saying. The teacher could say MC brought an alligator to school and he’d just go “uh huh…” “mmmph… yep…” “really now?” then yawn.

The only thing that could possibly get Belphie to be interested is if MC is studying space. If they are, than boy howdy is Belphie suddenly interested in their education.

Other than that? *snore*

If MC is in fact failing or doing poorly, MC’s teacher asks to see another one of MC’s guardians at a later date. Their plan failed miserably.

MC drags Belphie out of the school and yells at him for not helping them. Belphie, still sleep delirious, tries to press the snooze button. MC does not have a snooze button.

“Belphie!” MC shouted, shaking the Avatar of Sloth awake. The House of Lamentation’s resident bastard was somehow sleeping standing up outside. “HOW COULD YOU?!”

“Eh?” Belphie half-snorted and looked around confused. “What’d I do? Where are we?”

“At my school! You said that you’d go to my parent teacher interviews!”

“…MC I don’t think I’d pass well for you.”

“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO GO AS MY GUARDIAN!”

“Sheesh,” Belphie murmured while he rubbed the remaining sleep from his eyes. “You humans are so noisy.”

MC looked up at their dearest demon friend, and gave him their best glare. “I’m going to take all your fancy temperature changing pillows and switch them with normal pillows you traitorous bastard.”

[reidingmelodies]

Finders Keepers

A/N:  It’s been ages since I’ve written anything, so I figured it was about time I got back into it!  Hope you enjoy, any feedback is appreciated :) Warnings: None Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2.7K

“What’s wrong with you, Pretty Boy?” Morgan questioned as Spencer rushed into the BAU Tuesday morning, fingers threading through his curls and a look of pure agitation gracing his features.  As if he didn’t hear the question directed towards him, Spencer continued to storm through the room, nearly stumbling into Morgan in his quest to reach his desk.

Pupils dilating, Morgan looked towards JJ who had taken stock of the scene from her chair, brows already furrowed and legs moving to stand and head towards her fellow colleague.

Taking the lead, JJ swiftly headed to Spencer’s side, moving to place a hand on his shoulder before thinking better of it and placing both hands on the edge of his desk instead, Mama Bear instincts dialed all the way up.  “Everything okay, Spence?  You seem annoyed.”  

Morgan scoffed before thinking better of it, “I’d say he’s a bit more than annoyed, JJ”.  No sooner than the words had left his mouth he was given a swift elbow in his side from JJ and an eye roll from Spencer and all that was left for Morgan to do was raise his hands in defeat.

Sighing, Spencer turned back to his desk before mumbling a response back to them, “I’m fine, guys.  I think I lost my copy of War and Peace on the Metro this morning.  It was in my bag when I left my place, it must have fallen out when I was trying to grab my umbrella.  I thought maybe I just forgot and left it here, but apparently not”.

“You and I both know you don’t forget anything, Pretty Boy,” Morgan chimed in, visibly less tense now that he knew there wasn’t any immediate danger.

“Actually Morgan that’s not entirely true.  I have an eidetic memory which means-”

“There’s the Reid we all know and love,” JJ chuckled, heading back to her desk to get ready for the day ahead of them.  Morgan followed, leaving the bullpen in search of Garcia and Spencer sighed, trying to move past the fact that one of his favorite books was no longer in his possession.  Logically, he knew he could buy a replacement copy after work, but deep down he knew it wasn’t the same.

The words dancing across the page would be the same ones that brought him entertainment and the comfort found in familiarity throughout his life, but the book within his hands wouldn’t hold the same nostalgic memories.  He wouldn’t look down at the tattered cover and reminisce on his first jet ride with the BAU, thinking back on how he brushed his fingers against the book’s familiar spine while trying to calm his stomach filled with nervous jitters at the prospect of working with unfamiliar people.  He wouldn’t look at the dog-eared pages and remember how the words on those exact pages brought him comfort on nights he would escape to his bedroom and try to leave memories of aggressive classmates and whispering peers behind.  

Any thought of potentially buying a new copy of the book after the workday was dispelled though as Garcia called everyone into the conference room to discuss a pending case in Phoenix, no sooner followed by a “wheels up in thirty” announcement from Hotch.  Grabbing his go-bag and leaving the bullpen, Spencer filled his head with thoughts of the case, half of his brain racing ahead to connect victimology and significant locations while the other half was stuck repeating a never-ending mantra of “it’s just a book” in the back of his mind.

***

As Spencer was boarding a jet to head 468 miles north, Y/N was playing with a loose thread on her sweater, thinking about the long day of work ahead of her.  Breaking her trance, she looked up and instead glanced up at the now empty row of seats in front of her.  Her brows furrowed as she saw a book stuck in the crack between the far left seat cushion and the back of the chair, and before she knew it her curiosity overtook her.  Y/N found herself standing from the seat, travel mug and bag in tow, before reaching for the dictionary-like book that was calling to her.  The title War and Peace glared back at her, and a quick turn of the cover revealed faded words written in blue ink proclaiming that the book was the “Property of Spencer Reid”.   With the announcement of her stop blaring over the loudspeaker and the weight of someone else’s book in their hand, Y/N made a split second decision to stuff the book into her bag, leaving the Metro with not only thoughts of the upcoming workday but visions of whom the mysterious Spencer Reid could be.

The workday passed by slowly, each passing second filled with the overwhelming desire to search for Spencer Reid on Google.  By the time Y/N was on the Metro ride home, any and all motivation to search for the book’s rightful owner went out the door as her irritation grew with the rising heat of the increasingly packed subway car.  Needing a distraction, her hand reached into her bag, initially moving for her cell phone but making a last second switch as her hand brushed the spine of the book.  May as well spend my time doing something productive, she thought as she gently pulled the book out of it’s temporary home.  With a final sigh, she turned to the first page and began to read.

As Y/N was tearing through the pages of War and Peace at an alarmingly quicker rate than she anticipated that night, Spencer was filling out a WMTA lost and found form in the hopes that someone had the decency to return his book.  Knowing his luck, he assumed it was long gone and in the trash somewhere, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to make one last ditch effort at finding it.  Groaning, Spencer called it a night and went to bed, silently vowing to find his book the second he stepped foot off the BAU jet again.        

***

Six days later the BAU team landed in Quantico, making plans to head to a bar for a drink before a well deserved day off.  As designated drivers were assigned and phone calls home were made Spencer gathered his things, making a beeline to the door in the hopes of reaching the WMTA’s designated lost and found area before it closed for the night.  He was a foot away from the door before a soft hand grasped his wrist, immediately stopping him in his tracks.

“Skipping out on the bar tonight, Reid?” Emily questioned, head tilted as she noticed how frazzled her friend was.

“I’m just gonna go home and watch a bit of Dr.Who” Spencer began, desperately trying to think of something that would let him out the door without further questions.  “Speaking of Dr. Who, did you know that it was originally created to be an educational show for kids?  It’s actually really interesting-”

“Say no more, Dr. Reid,” Emily laughed, letting go of his wrist and heading back towards the others, “enjoy your night”.  Spencer tightly smiled, leaving the bullpen and making his way to downtown DC in search of his book.  An hour later and he wasn’t any closer to finding his book, ultimately giving up and heading to the bookstore to buy himself another copy.

It was at that same time JJ and Derek found themselves hysterically laughing at a corner booth in the bar, thinking about how Spencer probably missed out on meeting the love of his life that night- a woman sitting in the booth directly across from them, War and Peace open on the table in front of her and a pen and highlighter busy at work marking up post its that were being meticulously placed on the book’s pages.

***

A month and a half went by and Spencer had officially given up hope on finding his lost book.  In the six weeks since he had last seen it he refrained from reading his new copy, not willing to give up the small amount of hope he had that he would be reunited with his original book.  That evening though, as the Metro had yet another delay and the subway car continued to get hotter and hotter, he figured there was no better time than the present and pulled out his new copy of War and Peace.  A few pages in, a sudden jolt of the car made him glance up and almost immediately he locked eyes with the woman across from him.  In the span of ten seconds, his thoughts ranged from she’s beautiful to hold on- she’s holding my book and before his legs fully alerted his brain what was happening he found himself on his feet and sitting in the empty seat directly next to her.

As Spencer’s brain began to register just how bad of an idea it was to sit next to a stranger as abruptly as he just did, the woman next to him gripped her bag slightly tighter, tilting her head to the side as she peaked a look at the man next to her.

Her mouth opened to speak, but before she could do so Spencer interrupted her, desperately trying to save himself from any embarrassment her words could bring.

“That’s my book,” he bluntly stated, mentally hitting himself as he watched her adorably confused features morph into a look of defense.

“No.. that’s your book,” she pointed down to his lap, where his new copy of War and Peace was resting between his palms.

“No it’s not- well, it is but it isn’t really?” Spencer tried to explain, his face growing more and more red with each word that left his mouth.

“So it’s your book, but not your book?” She questioned, lips curling up into a slight smile as she witnessed the sweet agitation of the man in front of her.

“Yes!  I lost my book on the metro almost two months ago.  This is just my replacement copy, and I don’t know how I know, but I’m positive the book in your hands right now is the one that I lost.”  Spencer finished his spiel, watching as the woman’s eyes widened in realization and her mouth formed an “o” shape.

“You’re Spencer Reid?” she asked, and now it was his turn to play the part of the confused companion.

“I- yes? But, how do you know my name?” As soon as the question left his mouth the image of the title page of his book filled his head and all too soon he was practically yelling with joy in the poor woman’s face.  “Wait, that is my book then!  Does it say Property of Spencer Reid on the cover page?”

The woman laughed, and Spencer watched as any traces of tension left her body.  “I’m so sorry!  I found it on the Metro on my way to work, and I meant to look you up- not in a creepy way,” she continued, growing more flustered with each passing second.  “I was gonna try and find you to return it but then I started reading it and I liked it more than I thought I would and I just,” She stooped, taking a breath and giving him the most adorable set of puppy dog eyes he’s ever seen.  “I’m just really sorry, I shouldn’t have held onto it as long as I did”.  She finished, and held the book up, holding it out towards Spencer’s hands.  “I think this belongs to you”.

“It’s not a problem at all, I promise,” Spencer reassured her with a warm smile on his face, “thanks for keeping it safe”.  Something about her filled his stomach with joy, and as he looked at her he saw a similar smile mirrored back at him.  It was at that moment he knew he would do anything to keep that look of happiness on her face, stranger or not.  “You know what,” he continued, “you should keep it- finders keepers and all that”.

Y/N laughed in disbelief, immediately shaking her head and pushing the book closer to its rightful owner.  “It’s bad enough I’ve had it this long,” she admitted.  “It belongs with you”.

“At least take this one then?”  Spencer’s brain continued to be a few steps ahead of him, and before he knew it he was taking the book in the stranger’s outstretched hands and placing his new copy in her grasp.  “It looks like you still have a hundred pages or so left and I wouldn’t want to keep you from finishing it.  Besides, I definitely don’t need two copies”.

The woman smiled and gave him an enthusiastic nod, and Spencer couldn’t help but think he just made the best decision of his life.  The speaker above them announced the next stop, and with a sudden jump she left her seat, discarding the new book into her bag and turning towards Spencer on her way to the door.  “Thanks, Spencer!” she exclaimed, “maybe I’ll see you around sometime”.  Another smile was sent his way, and before he earned up the nerve to ask for her name she was gone, disappearing into a growing crowd of commuters desperate to get back to the comfort of their homes and begin the weekend ahead.

***

The following morning, Spencer found himself in his living room with a mug of coffee in his hand, completely lost in his thoughts.  He was trying to calculate the chances of seeing the mystery woman again, considering it took six weeks after losing his book to see her for the first time at all.  

He groaned, inwardly cursing himself for his lack of courage the day before and wishing he at least had a name to match to the face that wouldn’t leave his mind.  As the coffee cooled, he found his gaze wandering to the coffee table where he had laid the book and his satchel the previous night.  With a sigh, Spencer picked up the book only to notice a bright orange post-it sticking out of one of the pages.

“The strongest of all warriors are these two- time and patience” was written in loopy writing, highlighted in yellow with exactly twelve exclamation points in red ink under it.  He was a man of science, but he couldn’t help but feel as though finding one of his favorite quotes from the novel staring up at him was a sign.

As he continued to skim the pages, he found note after note filled with quotes, reactions, and doodles and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of admiration for the stranger who put them all there.  It was a book that held countless memories for Spencer, but already he could tell that this was going to be his ultimate favorite.  

Backtracking to the front page, Spencer saw his familiar scrawl had been slightly covered by a light blue post it note.  “If this book gets lost a second time I don’t want to make the same mistake as the first guy… please call Y/N at-” Spencer laughed, immediately grabbing his phone to dial the number before he has time to talk himself out of it.

As the phone began to ring, he thought about how he couldn’t picture her name being anything else.  It was as beautiful as she was, and he longed to properly meet the woman who managed to get his heart racing with just a few post-it notes.

“Hello?” the voice on the other end of his phone answered, and Spencer could immediately tell it was the same woman from the subway.

“Hi, is this Y/N?” he began, fingers nervously twiddling together.  At her hum of acknowledgement he continues, “This is Spencer, the guy who’s book you had?  I was just looking through the post-its you left behind and I love the perspective you have on the book.  Plus, it was so nice of you to even hold onto it in the first place so I was wondering if you’d wanna get coffee, maybe?  So I can say thank you for everything and talk about the book with you?”

The opposite end of the phone was silent and Spencer’s face grew red, his hands moving to his hair because how could he possibly think she wanted to meet him, she didn’t even know him and-

“I was hoping you’d find that post-it note,” she giggled, and with the sound all of Spencer’s worries completely washed away.  “Absolutely”.

***

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[whumpsday]

heyy so today I’ve been thinking about the whumpers attending some sort of hunters convention black tie event, like a large gathering of hunters from all around the area, where they discuss tricks of the trade, new discoveries, and of course, party hard. Like a fancy business conference, but with a lot more weapons.

Our hunters decide to take Kane to show off, (I’m picturing tortured scared kane like mid-end arc 2) like “look we captured a vampire, a vampire without persuasion, and look what we can do to him, look what we can make him do.”

I’m picturing some sort of “presentation of their findings” aka straight up torture demonstration in front of a large audience, where they can take “questions from the crowd” that are really just torture prompts… just, the added humiliation of it being a semi-public display of Kane’s torture

And then the part that really won’t get out of my head, the afterparty. Maybe they just chain Kane up in the middle of the large venue, hands tethered to the ceiling high above his head, and just leave him there, he’s free real estate!

Just a bunch of semi-drunk and extra sadistic hunters who are so thrilled by the novelty of a vampire like Kane and are way too excited to torture him, experiment on him, and all around just humiliate him in front of all the other hunters, make him humiliate himself, and yeah this is usually the point where my brain just starts vibrating

what a fun idea!!!

this'd never happen in canon bc the hunters who have kane are actually of a minority opinion. most hunters are more like liz, holding the "just kill it" opinion. when the hunters first got kane, there were actually a lot that left the organization because they thought the situation was fucked up. even now, there's a lot of hunters in the organization that just don't participate in kane's torment. they don't go downstairs. also that "vampire hunter" isn't quite a "black tie event / business convention" type job. HOWEVER. i am absolutely a proponent of ignoring canon/plot holes for Fun Idea Potential.

kane doesn't care about humiliation. he'd gladly take humiliation. humiliation is a replacement for pain. but he'd be in a ton of pain, too. so miserable. he just wants to go back to his cell and rest.

[dokidokitsuna]

GO! GO!

It’s really been bugging me that most of my art for SSS so far has been mediocre at best (by my standards). I know I’ve always struggled with group shots, but I can definitely do better than what I’ve been doing. I just need to pay more attention…so voici, my first attempt at actually paying attention. ^^

And since most of the important images come with lore, I think what I’d like to talk about this time is how these multicolored suits actually work. What advantages do they confer; how can they turn 4 ex-cons and an engineer into superheroes…?

Well…they kinda can’t, to be honest. ^^; The suits mainly serve to protect them against the elements of a planet in shambles: poisonous gases in the atmosphere, extreme temperatures, UV radiation, occasional run-ins with magma, etc. They’re basically highly-sophisticated spacesuits, which can achieve that level of sophistication through something I’m currently calling Star Power~

That Star Block that Susie is holding is one way of storing Star Power, the main energy source used by Evil Kirb and his alien friends. Not much is known about how it works, but at its most basic, it will usually serve to protect or heal any living things in the vicinity. This functionality is heavily relied upon to create the Green Zones, as well as the SSS suits themselves.

BUT, in order for it to be possible for them to fight Evil Kirb and co. (or even to just escape them alive), that healing power would have to be ramped up…like, a lot. This is a guy who literally punched the Earth in half; any semi-serious attack from him would instantly red-mist a normal human body. ^^ The suits do generate opposing forces to negate most of this damage, but it’s to be expected that some things would get through occasionally. When this happens, the suits immediately radiate a ton of Star Power into the body, which (coupled with various drugs that should already be in the bloodstream) initiates a process kind of like cancer on steroids. ^^; The point is to force the body to replace all the lost cells as quickly as physically possible.

And one of those drugs in the bloodstream is designed to prevent them from losing consciousness while this happens...like, if you think about it practically, there’s no point in being able to heal super-fast from grave injury if you black out from the pain anyway. So nope, gotta stay awake so you can get back in the game as soon as possible, even if that means experiencing levels of agony the human brain is not designed to even comprehend. ^^

All that is to say, that these suits have purely defensive functions. They don’t enhance the heroes’ senses or reaction times; they’re literally just designed to keep the wearers alive against all odds.

Although this does mean they can behave a lot more recklessly-- they can jump off buildings, try parkour, or really push their muscles to the breaking point when trying to move things or hit opponents, since they don't have to worry about permanent damage. And until they can gain access to more powerful abilities (hint-hint~) that’s about as much as they can do: their ability to be ‘super-human’ depends on how comfortable they can get with destroying themselves.

[lfnr-blog-blog-blog]

White Picket Fence

Pairing | Bucky x f!reader, OC (Cameron) x f!reader

Warnings | Mentions of injury, blood, non graphic domestic abuse, arranged marriage. MINOR DNI. Please don't read if this could be triggering for you, as always my inbox is always open if you need to talk or need help escaping a situation.

Summary | Running from a situation you don't want to be in leads to making a message for the true love of your life.

A/N | Thank you to @riverevelations being there for me tonight. I love and adore you and thank you for letting me bounce ideas off of you. and thank you to @extremelyblackandwhite for encouraging me to use this prompt. Part 2

Angsty prompt: "Know that I loved you, Know that it wasn't enough."

Faith is a funny thing, people always promise that if you have enough faith some higher power will solve all your problems, well I don't subscribe to that theory. Faith sucks, trying to believe in something that has real consequences when you cannot see, touch or interact with it.

You break through the trees, out of breath and soaked to the bone. Your panic shows in the breaths you can see in front of you, the snow falling around the shack you have been sprinting towards as the sun started to dip below the horizon. Nearly falling as you mount the stairs to the one hope of help, Bucky, you can just hear him, “Three more steps doll.” Reaching the door, “Now open the door, step inside and find something to stop the bleeding.” Activating the flashlight on your cell phone you find the towels, pressing them to your side to help stem the bleeding from the stitches you ripped open, running from the monster at the party.

Love should be enough to make faith work, faith that you would find me, faith that I could be saved, faith that we would get our happy ever after, but like I said faith is something that I cannot believe in. The concept of faith increasingly fleeting as I lie here bleeding.

It all started so nicely, a party in your honor, celebrating your engagement to Cameron, you didn’t want to be there but your family insisted on a grand party, drinks flowing, fancy food, and stuffy clothes. You should have felt like a princess in the dress your fiancé made you wear but you felt nothing but trapped, the large skirt with its layers of tulle suffocating, the top too tight, too revealing. This wedding, nothing more than a scheme to keep you quiet, his family happy, and your dad richer, and Cameron in control of you. His method of control more violent as each day passes, the stitches on your ribs from his most recent outburst. It ended with you running out of the roundhouse and into the woods, running from the danger in the room. His hands wrapped around your arm, holding you in a bone crushing grip, whispered threats swirling through your brain, disguised as kisses to your temple. A marriage of convenience and nothing else, everyone to make sure you were aware of that glaringly obvious fact.

Bucky's voice starts again, “Hold pressure doll, I am coming for you. Just tell me where you are. Click the button on your necklace.” You are barely able to press the beacon with the shaking in your hands. He is nearly a day away, stuck at a conference with Steve, but the beacon will alert him. Stripping the dress from your body, trying to get warm under anything you can find, an old tarp, a ratty blanket, and damp newspaper. You pull out your phone, the X at the top telling you that you won’t be able to reach him, which you knew anyways. Looking at the pictures of the love of your life, your Bucky, the pictures he took on top of the Ferris wheel this June, pumpkins in the fall, and the snow that was falling around you now, picture of the two you doing what you loved most, being with the other. The puddle of blood growing despite your efforts to stall it. You click over to the camera, taking one last message for him.

We should have had it all Bucky, all the ups and downs, the fights, the kisses, the white dress and pretty flowers. Three kids and a dog, the white picket fence. But instead we are cut short, nothing but convenience ending our future. Know that I loved you, know that it wasn’t enough. Not enough to save us from this fate, I would have given you the world, but now all I can give you is this, a cold body and a video saying goodbye. Faith can’t save us now. I loved you Bucky Barnes, and I would have loved to be your doll forever.

You click the camera off as you wipe the tears from the darkness growing in your eyes. His voice coming to you one last time “I love you doll.”

[keilemlucent]

Oh Salem, the panicked Keigo idea just speaks to my mean little gremlin heart. I want to see the guy trained to keep calm and cool lose his shit over losing his s/o. RIP his handlers if they try to slow him down. I want to see the relief when he finds them and the reckoning for the people dumb enough to try. This. This is my bedtime snack.

so this is less of reckoning, more relief. soft. ive been thinking about this a LOT and i feel like <3 poor keigo would be ruined:

heres a wittle drabble for your thoughts 

warnings: kidnapped reader, descriptions that may trigger claustrophobia (light, just a cave setting), insults in a not fun way, hurt/comfort baby

You were so cold.

The ‘cell’ you were in was more of a hovel, a small hole dug into the elaborate cave system you found yourself trapped in.

You weren’t sure for how long. There was no sun, only a guard that came and went with your meager meals and stale bottle of water. He and the other villains that had captured you spit vitriol and profanity like it was their duty to grind their verbal heels against your fragile psyche.

You tried to block them out, curling up in a tight ball against the rough back wall of your cell. Ignorance was better than hearing their profanities. 

The worst part was that you weren’t really sure what was going on. Other than that it had something to do with Keigo, considering you were exclusively referred to as “the number 2′s brain-rotted whore”.

Once again, you tried not to listen. 

...

You awoke to the sounds of chaos. 

Shouting, crashes, explosions--

The walls of your prison shook as you scramble to stand, smashing your head into the low ceiling as you did.

Your vision spun as your staggered to the rusty bars, bracing yourself and hopelessly tugging as you had so many times before.

There was a crash particularly close, bits of debris falling from stone tunnels, frail support beams falling.

No. 

Your blood ran so cold, you couldn’t move. Your body went completely still at the bars as you switched between panic and rage. It wasn’t fair, none of it was, you didn’t even get to say fucking goodbye to him. No last words, you’d been plucked from the street on your commute however long ago.

Keigo had left early that morning too, letting you sleep in with a kiss to the forehead instead of his normal heapings of sleepy, dawn-time affections. You’d been clinging to those sleepy, half-memories as anchor over the days in the cramped caves.

And, in the end, that was all you would have. Cloudy recollections of Keigo’s raspy morning voice as the caves around you began to shift and crumble.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you tugged at the bars, trying fruitlessly to get past them. Frustration made your hands sweat and fear made them shake as they became littered with small cuts. 

With the next crash, just as close, a vibrant blur of red whizzed past your cell. The shock and gust from its speed sent you jolting back, a hand clasping over your heart.

“... Keigo?” 

You hadn’t even realized you said it aloud. 

Not until the blur, feathers, a bundle of a maybe thirty returned, hovered and spun in front of the bars.

“Keigo?”

The feathers shuddered.

It felt like you were dreaming.

“KEIGO!” 

You practically screamed, jolting against the bars. Though it wasn’t him, not really, he’d hear you through the feathers. One of them spilled through the bars, pressing to your chest and pushing you away as the rest of the warm sharpened and began to beat on the thick padlock.

Something about your bodily state must’ve changed, as the feather at your face moved to under your chin, sweeping over your jaw in a small motions. 

...

Even from afar, Keigo was trying to comfort you.

When he’d felt you on the end of one of the feather swarms he’d sent into the caves, he thought he’d imagined it. The quiet hesitance with which you practically gasped his name was so fucking soft, he almost missed it.

But, he didn’t, thank fucking god.

The villains had been smart, corralling their captives (beyond just you, unsurprisingly. The string of disappearances over the weeks prior had all been linked. There were at least a dozen other lovers and family members of heroes tucked away into the mountain side with you.) 

Hence, it was a whole operation to retrieve you all, with some of the most pissed off, downright enraged heroes leading the charge and preceding investigation.

And Keigo?

He’d been at the front of it. 

HIs PA had to convince him to get a few solid hours of sleep every few days, in an actual bed, rather than on the floor of his office, or one of the many conference rooms the rescue team was occupying. 

He’d been wasting away, quietly, but he hardly noticed. Food was secondary, drinking was a burden, and his other bodily needs were just holding him back. He had a singular goal--

To find you.

He’d torn up the skies and the earth for just a trace of you, after you’d been taken. And finally, he found it, in the side of a fucking mountain, and an operation was launched to get all of the taken back.

Problem was it was a fucking mountain. A cobbled together base for the villains made of old mine tunnels and shafts, and organic caves.

And infuriatingly, Keigo and his wings were too damn big to properly navigate them. So, even if you were found, he wouldn’t be there. He couldn’t be there to tell you that everything was okay.

He couldn’t guarantee your safety by his own hands, and it fucking hurt. 

That being said, his feathers had done a good enough job. 

He could feel your heart hammering as you neared the entrance.

And then Keigo saw you.

...

You stumbled from the blown out opening, a flurry of feathers on either side. The brawl was somewhere else in the cave, shut out from your mind as you followed the tugs and touches of the plumes.

And as you felt the rays of setting sun hit your cheeks, you caught sight of Keigo.

Before you could even open your mouth, and breath the sigh of relief you needed to, or cried his name like you wanted to, Keigo was on you, scooping you up and away from the shuddering caves. 

His grip was so tight, it hurt, but neither of you cared. Your arms had looped behind his head, burying themselves in his greasy hair as you hid your face in his neck. Keigo’s hands were shaking as they held you close to him, not wavering even when you returned to the stable, safe ground below. It teemed with heroes and medics, but no one dared to interrupt or get between the two of you.

They’d all seen how wrecked Hawks had become in pursuit of finding his partner.

Keigo lowered the two of you to the ground, all feathers returning and making his feathers thick and broad once more. They rose and curled around the two of you, sealing the world away.

Your mouth felt too dry as you tried to sit up, but Keigo wouldn’t let you. He kept a firm hand on your hip as he tore off one of his gloves with his teeth, keeping you in place in front him. 

When you tried to shift, he gathered you by your waist and crushed you to him. HIs chest shuddered and his shoulders quaked with the force he was wrapping you, and you returned it all, as much as you could.

“P-please,” Keigo’s voice broke. “I just gotta hold you for awhile, o-okay, Dove? You’re s-safe now. I’ve got you.”

And he did.

You pressed your cracked lips to his cheeks, lungs going tight as you wrestled for one of his clammy hands to hold.

“I-I know,” You sniffled, tears squished between your cheeks. You pressed your interlocked fingers to your lips, choking on a sob of pure relief. Whatever kisses you had planned to grace his knuckles with were swallowed elsewhere.

Keigo pulled your face to his, hands and mouth hungry as he desperately kissed you, finally, nothing like the fleeting ones you both clung to while cruelly apart. It was messy, sloppy, but ringing with sweetness as Keigo sputtered and nipped at your lips.

“’M sorry,” He breathed, barely pulling away before slotting your lips together once more. 

As much as you wanted to reply, remind him that this wasn’t his fault, you words were too gummy and jumbled for anything meaningful.

So, you both settled for touch.

You stroked over each other’s sunken in eyes and dark circles. Keigo nipped at your dry lips, while you tasted the staleness of his breath. His bare hands braced against your back from just under the hem of your shirt,  feeling the deep chill in your skin and the residual dirt and grime.

You finally mustered up some words, the mix of so many needs and desires that needed sating.

“K-Keigo?” You lingered as close as you could, craving the heat and mingling of your breaths. “I-I want to go home.”

His breath caught and his grip got tighter still.

“Can we go home?” You asked, soft and breaking as you fell into the safety of his arms.

“Y-yeah,” Keigo pressed his teary cheeks to the top of your head, letting out a final shaking breath of relief. Keeping his words firm as firm as his touch, he put every ounce of ease that he could offer into his words:

“Let’s go home, dove.” 

[witchymarvelspacecase]

Spread Your Wings: Pt 13: Safe

Summary: Reader is a HYDRA experiment (like the Maximoffs, but not voluntary) who grows wings (like Angel from X-Men). She escapes, and is now trying to rescue and prevent further kidnappings and experiments.

Word Count: 2373

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of violence… honestly, I’m not even sure anymore

A/N: This isn’t beta-read cause I took for-GODDAMN-ever pulling this from my brain. Honestly, I’ll be shocked if anyone even bothers with me anymore

Spread Your Wings Masterlist

It was days after the incident when you finally left the cell. Though if you were being honest, you wouldn’t have called it a cell. If it weren’t for the fact that all the walls were white, it would have been pretty comfortable. Well, except the fact that where a 4th wall should have been, it was completely clear so you could be monitored; that wasn’t great. It was still leaps and bounds above any other holding area you’d even been seen.

In the time you stayed in the cell, you talked with Tomás everyday. He was settling into his new home, and it sounded like he was starting to actually believe he could trust the family he was with. They were teaching him all about snakes, and he realized he may have more in common with them than just his eyes. The kid didn’t elaborate any more than that. It was great to see a bit of a personality showing through, even if that personality involved being a little sneaky.

Your wing had healed enough that you no longer had to keep it immobile. You wouldn’t be flying anytime soon, but it didn’t kill you to hold your wings up enough to keep the tips from dragging on the ground. That was win enough, because even though Tony kept the Tower floors spotless, it still felt dirty to drag the feathers on the floor. Plus, removing the broken ones was not a completely painless process.

After all the drama, the trigger removal had actually been incredibly straight forward. You didn’t understand a goddamn thing about the process, but one video conference and a short procedure that you’d been able to sleep through, and poof, no more HYDRA triggers. At least that’s how it seemed. When you had made mention of the seeming ease of the procedure, Tony must have read the uncertainty on your face, because he smilingly produced a small box.

“And here is your extra insurance policy,” he said with a wink.

Curious, you opened the box to see a small silver, cuff style bracelet. You gave him a questioning look as he reached in and opened the bracelet, holding it out for you to slide your wrist into.

“It’s vibranium,” Tony explained, “as close as we can figure, something in the metal itself acts as a rudimentary release for you. This way, if Barnes and or Rogers aren’t close, you have some on you at all times.” That had an odd thought popping into your head. How exactly would Steve release you? Toss his shield at you and hope that when you touched it, that minuscule contact would be enough to bring you back? It was a good thing that wasn't a theory you needed to test.

Tony secured the slim bracelet with a decorative screw set into the side; it wouldn’t be popping open on its own at least. When he released your arm, you pulled the bracelet closer to really look at it. There were gorgeous, but understated designs etched into the entire body of the bracelet, and when you looked closer, you spotted stylized wings throughout. You smiled and met Tony’s eyes when you looked up.

“Thank you Tony, it does make me feel safer. And it’s beautiful.”

“Just cause it’s got a purpose doesn’t mean it can’t look expensive.” Tony gave you a smirk, and led you out of the cell.

You sat still while Natasha and Bucky ran though your trigger words in every language they could, then the very few they weren’t fluent in, FRIDAY subbed in. Your triggers no longer worked in any known language. You still weren't ready to breathe a sigh of relief, but your shoulders definitely felt lighter.

All that being said, when the team started planning for their next run at a HYDRA facility, it seemed like every butterfly on the planet was somehow in your stomach.

The team invited you into the conference room with them, and when you piped in, they took your comments to heart. Once again, FRIDAY and Hermes, who’d been revived not long after your trigger removal, worked seamlessly together to supply augmented blueprints and as much detail as you could provide. You kept your demeanor as calm as you could; deep, even breaths, and controlled tone of voice, you didn’t want everyone in the room to know just how shit-your-pants scared you were.

You’d tangled with HYDRA countless times by now. How was it possible they still affected you to this degree? Weakness. You should be stronger than this.

The group broke for a while to let Tony and Steve cool off, for some reason they ended up butting heads about something every single time a plan needed to be made. It almost seemed like they just disagreed on principle, but you hadn’t been around long enough to make that decision.

While most of the others went to either the kitchen or their own space, you went to the roof. It was a windy day, and when you let your wings spread, it almost felt like flying. The sensation of air moving the small filaments of your feathers was soothing, and it let your mind wander while silently assuring yourself you weren’t trapped. Closing your eyes, you leaned slightly into the wind.

If the team decided to go after HYDRA in the way they planned, you needed to go with them. You couldn’t guarantee their safety if you weren't there. You owed them quite a bit, the least you could do was have their backs. Even though the thought of walking back into HYDRA’s range was fucking terrifying. You’d do it.

“No one expects you to be okay going back there.”

Your wings tightened to your back on instinct, though you kept yourself from whirling to face Bucky when his voice spoke from very close behind you.

You turned slowly, meeting his eyes with a small smile. “Second time sneaking up on me now, I must be slipping.”

“Nah, you just feel safe up here so you let your guard down,” Bucky shrugged, his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he walked up almost right beside you. You almost reached out to stop him.

“We can step back,” you suggested, knowing he would be more comfortable. Bucky smiled a little and stepped back several paces. When you followed he repeated his statement.

“Nobody expects you to be okay going back there, doll.”

You exhaled heavily, “Why does this still… I thought with the triggers gone- Fuck, I didn’t even know the fuckers were there until what, a week ago? How can it fuck me up so much?” Your shoulders sagged, and you wanted to throw something, there was nothing around, and it wouldn’t help, but god you wanted to chuck something anyway. You had turned away from Bucky at some point, but he grabbed your wrist. When you looked over your shoulder at him, you realized that you had taken several steps toward the edge of the roof. You couldn’t tell if the discomfort on his face was due to his proximity to the edge, or because you were primed for take off, but it was clearly there, so you stepped back towards him.

“Sorry,” you said, not meeting his eyes. When he didn’t release your wrist, you spoke again. “I’m alright, I’ll be fine.”

Instead of responding, Bucky tugged on your wrist. You looked up and met his eyes, but he tugged again. You took another step towards him, confused but curious. You end up pulled up against him in a tight hug, and you froze for a moment, your body stiffening at the sudden contact before relaxing slowly. Your arms come up under his, your palms resting on his shoulder blades as you rested your cheek lightly against his chest.

“Take a deep breath,” Bucky’s voice rumbled, and you felt the vibrations against your cheek and at the top of your head where Bucky rested his chin. “Nothing to be sorry for. It doesn’t matter if you didn’t know before now. You’re supposed to be able to trust your own mind, and to find out that you can’t, no matter how long or short, is goddamn terrifying. No one here is judging you, least of all me.” His arms had your upper arms held against your sides, one of his hands above your wing stalks and the other at your lower back, like he was trying to make sure you couldn’t leave. You still could have if the situation had called for it, but he clearly felt like he had to hold on. Normally, you would feel uncomfortable, out of control, but this wasn’t the first time Bucky had held you in some way. He hadn’t tried to hurt you in any of the previous times, so though it wasn’t completely comfortable, it felt… good. He was warm and solid, and … safe? Is that what you felt? Fucking stupid thing for someone your age to be asking. “Is this what ‘safe’ feels like?”.

“Bruce thinks your wing ought to be healed enough to train a little,” Bucky said after a while, “but no one thinks you're going on missions with us until your wings are 100 percent. And even then, it’s your choice.” His arms tightened and his head tilted down, his lips by your ear. “It’ll always be your choice now.”

That one sentence had you fighting back a sob. A fight you lost.

You had no clue how long you stood there. Bucky didn’t complain, or shift uncomfortably, he only held you close and occasionally rubbed small circles on your back. You hadn’t cried in front of someone in longer than you could remember, since you were a child, but the discomfort only came once the tears had dried up. Only then did you wonder how exactly you ended a hug. They’d been a rare occurrence for you, outside the kids you helped, and with the kids, you only gave the briefest of squeezes unless they clung to you.

You must have shifted, because Bucky’s arms loosened, allowing you to pull back. Quickly, you turned your face away and scrubbed at your eyes, grateful you didn’t bother with makeup that morning.

“Well, just in case I hadn’t made enough of a fool of myself,” you laughed humorlessly, turning your face to the sun. Behind you, Bucky scoffed.

“Not like everyone else here hasn’t had a meltdown. Hell, Stevie and Tony were practically screaming and pulling each other’s hair this morning. Over granola bars.”

You laughed a little and lightly shook out your wings, releasing the tension there. “Did they narrow down the location yet?” you asked, moving back into comfortable conversation territory.

“Dunno, I haven’t checked. Let's go see,” Bucky said, indicating toward the door with his head. You nodded and fell in step beside him, giving your cheeks one more swipe to make sure there weren’t obvious tear tracks.

Moments later, you were back in the conference room, looking in disbelief at the location code in front of you.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

That had the entire team looking at you with varying levels of concern and interest.

“Un-fucking-believable,” you growled, looking through the papers stacked beneath the one you read the location code on. Nope, you hadn’t read that wrong. You resisted the urge to chuck the entire stack of paper across the room, knowing it would only make your day suck more, but you shoved your chair back from the table and paced instead.

“Share with the class?” Tony asked, looking at you over the top of his glasses.

“Fuck off, Professor,” you reply, still pacing, your hands in your hair.

“Y/N,” Wanda calls, “please tell us what has you upset.”

You freeze in place and rattle off the location code

“Siberia somewhere,” Natasha translates, while Tony has FRIDAY opening a satellite image of the location at the same time.

You turn to look and for a second you can feel the snow and ice biting at your exposed skin. The scrubs you’d been wearing were thin, and the lab coat you’d swiped wasn’t much better. You’d been out there in socks for fuck’s sake.

“Y/N.” You shook your head a little, but didn’t look at Steve, instead, you crossed closer to the image FRIDAY was displaying.

“That’s the only door in or out of the facility. It reaches 12 stories down and there’s only one central elevator shaft. I can only tell you about the security they had, no idea if that’s changed, or how.” You took a deep breath before continuing, “I can give you the layout I remember, but again, it may have changed since-” Someone’s hand was on your shoulder.

Natasha. She squeezed your shoulder just slightly before she spoke. “Is this the place? The one you escaped?”

“Yeah.” Your voice sounded scratchy to your ears and you cleared your throat before speaking again. “Home sweet home.”

“Have HERMES transmit what you know, and go take a break,” Tony instructed. “We’ll handle this. If you feel up to it, you can work coms, but you’re not going back to that shithole.”

You stopped dead, and shook your head a little. “What?”

“You’re not coming with us. Period.”

“But-”

“No.”

You looked at Steve, but he and Tony were agreeing for once it seemed. He stood firmly, feet shoulder width apart and arms crossed, shaking his head at you.

“You can help just as much without being there, Y/N,” he said, “You can stay back here and run coms. Clint’ll be back soon and he’s sitting this one out too. Try and keep him on track.”. You double blinked.

“O-okay then. I’m happy to help Clint back here.”

“Did I hear my name?” Clint half shouted as his head popped in the door.

Steve sighed and walked over to you before setting a hand he shoulder Natasha had squeezed. “Good luck,” he mumbled and patted your shoulder before moving past you.

Clint walked in, rolled his eyes at Steve and gave you a sneaky grin. Well, at least you had an idea what to expect from Clint. This may not be so bad.

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[hercleverboy]

taunted

spencer reid x reader 

summary ↠ hours after his release from prison, spencer’s girlfriend is kidnapped. can he pull it together long enough to save her?

category ↠ angst/fluff

warnings/includes ↠ swearing, reference to sexual assault, blood, kidnapping

word count ↠ 5.7k

“People go, but how they left always stays.” — Rupi Kaur

Spencer felt overwhelmed to say the least. 

In the last 24 hours, he’d undergone more stress than any human should ever have to endure. Between his release from prison and racing against the clock to save his mother, he was grateful to finally able to take a moment to stop and breathe. 

In between the chaos, he hadn’t been able to see one of the people he’d missed the most during his imprisonment; his beloved fiancee, Y/N. 

He knew that the team had contacted her to inform her of his release, but there’d been no time for heartfelt reunions when he was released, the safety of his mother being the only thing on his mind. As much as he’d missed his girl, it would have to wait. 

As he stood walked through the lobby of his apartment complex, he couldn’t help the small smile on his lips at the anticipation of seeing her. She’d been to visit frequently while he was incarcerated, giving him just that little push to fight, to fight like hell, to come home to her. And now he was there. 

As he walked up the flights of stairs, he remembered all the times he’d wished he could reach out to grab her hand when she was sat across from him, with the glass separating them and preventing him from touching her. He remembered the sleepless nights in his cell, on a bed that was cold and hard with a single uncomfortable pillow. He recalled how badly he yearned for her on those nights, craved the warmth of her arms, their bed.  He was so eager to finally hold her in his arms, remind her how much he loved her, thank her for sticking with him, for being his lifeline during the hardest months of his life. 

Any excitement that he held was diminished as soon as he climbed the final few steps to their floor, his eyes landing on their apartment door. 

Their open apartment door. 

Spencer’s eyes blew wide, part of him trying to calm himself down, she just forgot to close it behind her, and the other part knowing Y/N was too cautious to make such a silly mistake. 

He wasn’t armed, after all he wasn’t planning on having to deal with shit like this for at least a few weeks following his release. 

He cautiously made his way into the apartment and was immediately greeted with the obvious signs of a struggle in his living room. The coffee table’s contents had been scattered across the floor, the little table they normally placed cups of tea or snacks on had toppled over. The pretty white vase that Y/N’s mother had bought the couple a few years back was shattered on the floor, the yellow daffodils that had been inside the vase laying there limply. By the fireplace was a small pool of blood, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out who it belonged to. 

Seeing the blood sent Spencer into a panic, his breathing increasing as he anxiously called out for her, opening up the doors to their bedroom and the bathroom, finding all the rooms empty. 

He ran a hand through his hair and down his face as he tried to steady his breathing, so that he could think. 

“She’s not here, She’s not here, She’s not-” Three whispered words were all that left his lips, a broken mantra filled with worry and despair. 

*

“Okay, let’s start from the beginning, how did the unsub even gain entry to the apartment?” Rossi asked, grimacing at the state of the room around them. 

After coming to the realisation that his fiancee was missing and had indeed been taken, Spencer had called Emily, who’d assembled the team together to help the distraught genius. Emily sent Garcia, Luke and Matt to the BAU headquarters to work from there, while the rest of the team met up with Spencer at his apartment. 

Once they’d arrived, they found Spencer outside, anxiously pacing the hallway outside the door as he mumbled to himself, desperately trying to fight off the raging headache he had. JJ was quick to attempt to console him, but to no avail. His brain was essentially mush. As if the stress of everything he’d been through wasn’t enough- the love of his life was missing, potentially dead, and he couldn’t even string together a coherent sentence. How was he supposed to help? 

Emily had nodded to the rest of the team, silently telling them to head inside the apartment to check things out while she came to stand in front of Spencer. 

“Reid? Reid. I know this is a lot but I need you to listen to me. You can’t be here. You’re not in the right headspace for this. You’re better off back at the BAU with Garcia, Luke and Matt.” Emily tried. She didn’t want to upset him further but it was the best thing for him. There was no chance of him thinking clearly at the scene, so sending him back to HQ was the best option. 

Spencer knew that. However it didn’t stop him from looking at Emily with anger flaring in his eyes. “You’re not seriously kicking me off the case? My fiancee is missing-” His voice raised but Emily cut him off. 

“I’m not kicking you off the case. Y/N is a part of this family and we won’t rest until she’s home, but you’re not gonna be able to think here, Spencer. I’m just trying to do what’s best for you.” She promised and he nodded, forcing him self not to grunt in pain as his splitting headache worsened. 

*

As he stepped off of the elevator, his legs carried him quickly through the glass doors into the bullpen. He b-lined for the conference room, where Garcia, Luke Matt were sat at the roundtable. Garcia was typing away furiously at her laptop, Matt looking over her shoulder whilst Luke reviewed pictures from the crime scene. When Spencer entered the room Garcia looked up, her fingers faltering. 

“Reid..” Garcia started, but quickly realised she didn’t know what to say. 

Spencer said nothing, stalking toward her and leaning his hands on the table. “Emily told me you’re looking at security footage from outside our apartment complex? Did you see anything?” 

Garcia exchanged a look of sadness with Matt before clearing her throat. “Uh, the cameras outside the lobby caught the kidnappers vehicle as it left, a blue Sedan, but it’s too dark for us to make out the plates.” 

“Did the camera’s catch her being taken?” His voice was quiet but sturdy. The coldness of his tone almost made Garcia shiver. 

“Yes.” She squeaked out. 

“Show me.” He demanded, walking to her other side so he could lean over her shoulder to watch. 

Matt shifted, standing up straight. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea, Reid.”

“Did I ask?” He spat, not bothering to spare Matt a glance as he looked at Garcia’s laptop screen. “ I said show me.” 

“O-Okay.” She murmured, clicking a few buttons before the video started up. 

The four of them watched intently as a man in a dark hoodie carried an unconscious Y/N out the front doors of the complex. Spencer noted the splotch of red on her forehead, likely from where the bastard had hit her to knock her out.  The man forcefully shoved her in the back of the car that waited by the front of the building, before moving to get into the drivers seat and taking off. 

Spencer was gripping the edge of the roundtable with such force that his knuckles were white, and it seemed a miracle that the wood hadn’t splintered under his force. 

Luke spoke first. “Did we get a good enough look at his face?” 

Garcia shook her head. “Not really. His back was to the camera’s a lot.” 

Matt sighed. “It means he knew where they were, and how to avoid them. This kidnapping was planned, likely weeks in advance.” 

Spencer slammed his hands down on the table, and Garcia let out a yelp at the sudden movement. “So we have nothing then?” He yelled, starting to pace the end of the conference room, his hands gripping handful’s of his hair. 

“I’ll call Emily and see if they found anything at the scene.” Matt mumbled, quickly leaving the room. 

Spencer rubbed as his eyes frustratedly, before turning toward Luke and Garcia. “You guys need to get out.” 

“What?”

“Get out, you need to get out. I’m sorry but I need to think, I need to focus and I can’t do that with you here.” He ushered the two out of the conference room, slamming the door shut behind them as he looked around frantically. He grabbed the photos that were on the table that Luke was previously looking at. He stared at them, willing his brain to work, hoping he’d figure out what he was missing. He quickly grew frustrated with his lack of progress, picking up one of the books from the table and throwing it at the wall in his angry haste. 

Garcia gasped, a loud bang sounding from the conference room where Reid was working tirelessly to find Y/N. She shared a look with Luke, who shrugged. The pair quickly moved toward the room, gently opening the door, to find Spencer pacing the room anxiously, running his hands through his hair as he tried to control his breathing. 

Spencer didn’t know what to do. He’d exhausted the few leads they had, he was mentally and physically exhausted and he wasn’t sure when the last time he ate was. All he knew, all he could think about, was that his girl was out there somewhere, waiting for him to save her. And he wasn’t even close to finding her.

“Reid, I know a lot is going on but you’ve got to try and clear your head-“ Luke started but Spencer interrupted him, his tone cold and unforgiving.

“My fiancée is missing, and I can’t get it together long enough to figure out where she is!” He yelled, and Garcia flinched at his words. He saw the looks on their faces and frowned. “What?”

“You threw a book at the wall..” Garcia mumbled, still cautious of her words.

“If Y/N dies because I was too slow I’ll be throwing a lot more than books.” He seethed, before brushing past the stunned pair.

*

The cold water felt refreshing on his boiling skin as he splashed it against his face in an attempt to calm himself down a little. He gripped the sink tightly in his hands and forced himself to look in the mirror. He wasn’t shocked by what he saw staring back at him. A shell of the man he was before prison. Cold and harsh and unkind, a man who would kill another and still sleep easy. His breaths were heavy and he felt the familiar feeling crawling up his throat, the feeling that he wanted to cry, to sob and plead for everything to just end. Hadn’t he been through enough? 

He choked the feeling down. Crying and pleading weren’t going to bring Y/N back home to him. 

He could feel the panic bubbling within him, and so he forced himself to think of happier times, times where the weight of the world wasn’t on his aching shoulders. He screwed his eyes shut, willing himself to go somewhere better, somewhere happier, even if just for a minute. 

“Spence?”

It was her voice. Oh thank god. 

He blinked his eyes open, his gaze landing on her sat next to him. He immediately knew which memory he was recalling. It was one of the happiest days of his life. 

He’d taken her out that night for dinner and then up a mountain of sorts so they could get to a high enough point where they’d have a perfect view of the stars. He’d explained the constellations to her as she sat next to him, cross-legged with her head resting on his shoulder and his arms around her. 

He looked at her as she stared up at the night sky in awe. He took in every detail of her face, letting it really sink in that she was his, a woman so kind and compassionate and beautiful was all his. She raised her hand to point up toward the sky, an amused smile on her lips. 

“What about that one, what’s it called?”

He was more than happy to tell her.

As they sat in a blissful silence, Spencer noted how this was the happiest he’d felt in a long time. With her, he was sure there could never be a bad day again. 

He broke the silence by clearing his throat, unwrapping his arm from her as she turned to face him, her brow furrowed. 

“Spence? You okay?”

“Yeah- I- Um, I didn’t just bring you out here to watch the stars.” He started, his palms quickly becoming sweaty and his voice dying in his rapidly drying throat. He kept trying to speak, to say the words he’d practiced a thousand times over in his head, but he simply couldn’t form the words. 

She reached out to grab his hand, taking in gently in hers as an act of reassurance. “It’s okay, It’s only me. Take your time.” 

He squeezed her hand in thanks before taking a deep breath and moving up from his seated position, manoeuvering so he was now down on one knee in front of her. He kept the grip on her hand, his other hand reaching into his pocket for the small red box that he’d carried with him for months prior to this moment. 

Y/N gasped when he opened up the box, showcasing the beautiful silver ring sat inside. Her eyes grew wide and filled with tears. 

“Y/N.” He started. “Over the two years, two-hundred-and-seventeen days, six hours and fifteen minutes we’ve been together, there’s not been one moment where I’ve not loved you. Even through petty arguments and silly fights, I have never and will never stop loving you. I don’t think I could if I tried. You’re always there for me when I need you. When a case has been rough, you’re at home waiting to hold me and make everything better. You’ve never failed me, and if you accept this ring, I promise I’ll never fail you. You’re my whole life, Y/N. There is nothing I wouldn’t do if it ensured your safety, if it meant coming home to you. You’re everything I’m ever going to want, you’re everything I need. So Y/N Y/L/N, would you do me the extraordinary honour of marrying me?” 

Words failed her in that moment so all she could do was nod her head as tears cascaded down her cheeks. She launched herself forward, wrapping her arms around him as she cried happily into his neck, and he chuckled to himself, arms wrapping around her securely. 

She pulled back a moment later, swiping her fingers under her eyes to wipe her tears away as she flashed him a breath-taking smile. “Yes.” She answered quietly, watching as he carefully slipped the ring on her finger. she gazed down at it in awe. “It’s beautiful, Spence.” She grinned back up at him, her hands coming to cup his cheeks. 

“You’re beautiful.” He murmured, before moving forward to connect his lips to hers.  

He wished he could cling onto the warmth that bubbled in his chest forever. 

A voice came from behind him, causing his eyes to snap open. He looked behind him, to where Luke stood by the door. 

“Reid, You gotta come. Garcia found something.” 

*

“What have you got Garcia?” Luke called as soon as he entered the conference room, Reid rushing in behind him. 

“I managed to get the footage from the cameras that are outside the shop opposite the apartment complex.” She started, and Reid came to stand next to her, watching the footage play on her laptop. “If I zoom in close enough I should be able to get an ID on our unsub. We can see his face, but it’s still a tad blurry. Not to worry, I’ll work some magic and get it as clear as I can. Hopefully then we can run it through facial recognition and pray it turns up something.” She sounded hopeful, and Reid was grateful for her optimism. 

It wasn’t much, but it was a lead. And honestly that was all he could ask for at that moment. 

*

Garcia skilfully managed to unblur the video they had of the unsub, but facial recognition didn’t turn up any matches or any new leads. The team were at a loss. It had been seventy-two hours since Y/N went missing, and with every hour, the possibility of her coming home alive decreased. Spencer knew the statistics, he knew the chances. it was the curse of an eidetic memory, he supposed.

With every hour, Reid lost more and more of himself, any hope he had being chipped away with the annoying tick of the clock as seconds passed by. He had barely slept, even when being ‘ordered’ to by Emily. The only time he’d slept was when he got so drained and exhausted that he actually passed out for a few hours. He refused to eat, drinking as much caffeine as he could in order to force himself to stay awake. How could he sleep at a time like this? Whenever someone on the team tried to encourage him to eat, if only a few bites of a cereal bar, he’d snap at them. 

Eventually, JJ had had enough. She watched Spencer snap at Luke, who was just trying to encourage him to put something other than coffee in his system. She stood up from her seat, grabbing his wrist and pulling him with her. He attempted to protest but she gave him a look that made him decide that it was best he keep his mouth shut. She pulled them into an empty office, closing the door behind them for privacy.

“You gotta listen to me, Spence.” She spoke calmly. “I know this is killing you. I know how badly you want to find her and bring her home. Everyone out there is trying so hard to do that for you.” She pointed to the doorway to emphasise her point. She dropped her arm back down to her side as she watched him run his hands over his face exhaustedly. “Talk to me.” 

“I just I can’t think straight-” He whimpered out, rubbing his eyes with his hands. “I need her to come home, I can’t live without her.” He got a little choked up, his hands trembling slightly as he desperately tried to keep his emotions in check. 

JJ gently placed her hand on his shoulder, still cautious of touching him since his release from prison, not wanting to alarm or startle him. 

“There’s not a doubt in my mind that we’ll find her. Y/N is tough, she won’t let him break her.”

Spencer nodded, wiping his eyes on the cuffs of his blazer. He was about to thank JJ for her comfort when a knock sounded through the room. Tara came in, a morbid look on her face. “You guys need to come see this.”

When they reach the conference room again, all of the team is gathered around the table, their gazes all trained on the phone in the middle of the table that was ringing.  

Emily looked to Garcia. “Are you ready to trace the call?” 

Garcia nodded. Spencer was about to ask what was happening when Emily reached over, answering the phone and putting it on loud speaker. “This is Agent Emily Prentiss with the FBI, who am I speaking to?” 

“I want to speak with Dr Reid.” The unsub’s voice boomed through the speaker, and Emily exchanged a look with Spencer as she shook her head, placing a finger over her lips. 

“We want proof of life before we negotiate anything with you.” She stated. 

“She’s listening, perfectly alive. I want to speak to Dr Reid.” 

Emily nodded toward Spencer, signalling for him to speak. 

“I’m here.” He spoke, keeping his voice strong despite how he wanted to cry. It was a skill he’d learned in prison- tears equated to weakness, and weakness got you killed. 

“I’d like you to know, I’m feeling generous today.” The unsub sounded like he was smirking on the other end of the line, almost proud. 

“You are? What does that mean?” Spencer continued the conversation on, keeping the unsub on the line long enough for Garcia to get a location. 

“I’ve spent a fair bit of time with Y/N. She’s fierce. Hard one to break, this one.” He was mocking Spencer, taunting him, and he had to try ridiculously hard to keep his building anger in check. “She begs for you, you know? When my punches make pretty bruises bloom across her skin she pleads for you to save her. But she’s tough, always hitting me back with insults. You know earlier, she actually spat at me, the bitch.” He chuckled, and Spencer breathed in deeply, gripping the edges of the table in a death-grip. 

Rossi shot him a look from across the table that said ‘Keep it together’. 

“No worry, I’m sure I can break her. If you give me some more time with her, maybe I can try some.. alternative methods.” 

That was the line for Spencer, who spat through clenched his teeth and stood to hover over the phone. “You listen to me, you son of a bitch, if you touch her I swear to god-“

“I’d be careful about threatening me, or I might not be so generous.” The unsub tutted. 

“What do you want? Tell me what you want in return for Y/N’s safety.”

“This isn’t a bargain, Doctor. This is a kindness. I’m going to let pretty young Y/N speak with you before I kill her. I’m not so much of a monster that I would stand in the way of young love. You have five minutes to talk. You’re welcome.” 

There was more rustling on the phone, and then silence. 

And then finally-

“Spence?” 

Her voice was croaky, likely from the lack of water and her screaming. It sounded so broken, and Spencer’s heart ached because he could tell she was using all of her strength to try and sound okay for him. 

Spencer sighed out of relief. despite how it sounded, proof that she was alive was enough to lift the slightest bit of weight from his shoulders. “It’s me, sweetheart. Are you okay?”

“I think some of my ribs are broken, my wrist definitely is. I’m trying to be strong Spence but I don’t know if I can-“ She choked and tears filled his eyes as he willed them to keep at bay. 

“Y/N, listen to me. I will find you. Do you understand me? You will not die there. You’re gonna come home to me, I promise you that.” The tears he tried to hide away slowly trembled down his cheeks as he made promises that he wasn’t 100% sure he could keep. 

“Spencer. I’m so sorry-“ She started but he interrupted her. 

“Please don’t apologise, It’s not your fault, baby.” He pleaded, the feeling of dread filling him the longer they spoke. 

Around the table, each team stood watching in shock, tears swimming in their own eyes. 

“Two minutes.” The unsub shouted through the phone. 

“I need to tell you something.” Y/N whimpered. 

Spencer shook his head although she couldn’t see it. “No, I know where you’re going with this, stop it.”

She ignored his plead. “Spencer Reid, I’ve loved you ever since we met, when you spilled your coffee all over me. I remember it like it was yesterday. Your coffee ruined my outfit, and you were an apologising mess, so you gave me your jacket, even though it meant you’d get cold. I’ve loved you ever since that moment, Spencer.” Her voice broke at the end and she cleared her throat, determined to finish what she wanted to say. “You have to promise me you will move on, Spencer. You’ve got to let yourself be happy. You deserve it, so much.”

Spencer whined, his own voice croaky. “Don’t. Don’t you dare say goodbye to me, Y/N.”

The booming voice of the unsub came through the speaker again. “Times up.” 

“Spencer I love yo-” The end of her sentence was cut off by the unsub ending the call, the dial tone ringing out when the line went dead. 

Spencer’s hands were shaking in anger as he closed his eyes, bowing his head, hopelessly trying to keep himself calm. 

Emily was the first to speak. “Did you get it, Garcia?” 

Garcia continued to click away from a few moments before gasping. “Yes! Yes! I got it!” 

The exclamation made Spencer’s head shoot up. 

“Send us the address.” Emily ordered, as the team headed out toward the cars, with no time left to waste. 

*

The team pulled up to the location Garcia had given them, splitting off into two groups to cover the front and back entrances. 

Spencer, JJ, Luke, and Emily were all cautiously walking down one of the warehouse’s winding corridors, before turning the corner, guns in hand. They’d entered a large room, and Spencer’s eyes immediately landed on the limp figure hunched over in a chair in the centre of the room. 

Whilst the other members made sure there were no other possible threats in the room, Spencer rushed forward, the only thing he could think of was getting to her. 

Oh god please be alive, please. 

As he got closer, he took note of the wounds she has sustained. There was blood pooling from a wound on her thigh, and a few other cuts and bruises. 

Why was she so still? 

As soon as he reached her his hands cupped her cheeks, her head lolled towards him, as she struggled to hold it up. He pressed two of his fingers to her neck and had never been so thankful to feel a shallow pulse beneath her skin. 

“Y/N? Y/N, wake up, come on sweetheart.” He pleaded, swiping his thumbs over her cheeks. 

She blinked her eyes open, groaning in pain as she came to. She hissed at the pain in her thigh, her eyes focusing on the man in front of her.  “Spencer?”

“It’s me, I’m here. We’re gonna get you out of here alright, just stay with me.”

“He left a few minutes before you got here-“ She coughed mid-sentence, nodding her head weakly toward the back entrance of the room. “He went that way.”

Luke and Emily moved towards the back entrance in pursuit of the unsub, while JJ stayed back to untie Y/N’s wrists from behind her whilst speaking into her radio requesting medical attention. 

Y/N groaned again as she felt Spencer’s hands on her thigh, desperately trying it slow the bleeding. She blinked, despairingly trying to stay awake. Spencer could see her fighting and scrambled to find something to distract her with. “Hey, hey. you remember when we met? Like you said on the phone? That I completely ruined your blouse with my coffee because I’m an idiot.” He gave her a small forced smile that he hoped would reassure her as she wailed out again in pain.

He looked at JJ, who looked back at him with tears in her own eyes. “I don’t think we can wait much longer for the medics, we’re gonna have to bring her to them.” 

“Are you sure we should move her?” JJ asked. 

Spencer simply nodded. “She might die if we don’t move her now, she’s losing too much blood.” He pulled his belt from his waist, tying it tightly just above Y/N’s leg wound. She let out a shrill cry of pain, sobs escaping her lips. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I know it hurts. We’re gonna get you up and outside okay.” He cooed as he hoisted her up bridal style, holding her as gently as he could so as not to agitate her wound. With JJ beside them, he began to walk back towards the entrance. “It’ll be okay. I promise. You’ll be okay.” He pressed a kiss to Y/N’s forehead as a promise. 

Her head dropped against his shoulder and he looked down at her, his tone pleading as he spoke. “I know you’re tired baby but you gotta keep those beautiful eyes open for me, okay?” They were just stepping through the front door when she spoke.

“Spence..” She whispered, her eyes fluttering as she defeatedly attempted to stop the darkness from consuming her.

“Yeah?”

She didn’t answer. 

Everything was a blur after that. 

* 

The hospital waiting room was one of Spencer’s least favourite places, he’d decided. 

The strong smell of disinfectant along with the bright lights and white walls irritated his eyes, making his headaches even worse. He didn’t dare try to sleep though, not until he knew if she was okay. His head was in his hands and his leg bounced anxiously as he sat in the waiting room, his team surrounding him, all aching for any news. 

Finally, after what felt like hours had dragged on, a nurse entered the room calling for Y/N’s family. 

Spencer stood so quickly he nearly toppled over. He moved toward the nurse nodding his head frantically. “I’m her fiancee, is she okay?”

The nurse gave him a smile and nodded. “She’s absolutely fine, sir. The wound on her thigh bled quite heavily, but we were able to stabilise her. She has a few bruised ribs and a broken wrist, but she will make a full recovery. She’s awake if you’d like to see her?” 

He nodded again, sparing a thankful glance at his team before following the nurse down the hallway. 

He’d never felt such a sweet relief as he did when he saw her sat up in her hospital bed, a small smile on her lips as she drank from her water cup. Her smile brightened at the sight of him and she gave him a little wave, setting her cup down on the tiny side table.  

“Thank god you’re okay.” He murmured once he reached her bedside, leaning down to engulf her in a light hug, so as not to cause her any pain. 

She grinned, reaching her good hand up to hold him to her. 

When he pulled back he placed a gentle kiss on her lips, one that just further assured him that she was okay. Once they pulled away, he moved his hands to cup her cheeks. 

“Hi.” He grinned, the tears pricking at his eyes. 

“Hi.” She gave a light chuckle, immediately regretting it when a sharp pain seared through her chest, making her wince. 

He pressed his forehead to hers in a sweet gesture, closing his eyes as he basked in her warmth. He tuned his ears into the rhythm of her soft breathing, focusing on them and trying to keep his in time with hers. 

She gently brushed her hand up and down his forearm in a comforting manner. “It’s okay, Spence. I’m okay.”

“I nearly lost you.” His throat caught on the words, and she noticed the stray tears that quivered down his cheeks. 

She smiled sadly as he opened his eyes, hazel orbs meeting hers. “But you didn’t. I’m here. I’m alive, you’re alive, and it’s all gonna be just fine.”

He nodded before pulling away from her. he reached for the chair that was up against the wall of the room, pulling it so he could sit at her bedside. “I’m so sorry I let this happen to you.” He frowned, placing his hands in his lap. “I should’ve protected you. It’s my job to protect you. How can even think I’ll be a good husband, even a good father someday if I can’t keep you safe?”

She reached over and gripped his hand tightly. “You will be a phenomenal husband Spencer Reid, and an even better father. In less than five months I’ll be your wife, and I’ll be the happiest woman alive.” She ran her thumb over the back of his hand in a soothing manner and he smiled a little at her compliment. “And when we have a baby, they’ll be the luckiest kid on earth to have you as their father.”

“Yes ma’am.” He teased and she smiled, happy she’d been able to quash his worries, for the moment at least. 

His fingers hovered over the engagement ring on her finger, bringing her hand to his lips to place a kiss on it. “Why wait?” He murmured. 

“What?”

“Why should we wait five months? The nurse said they’re gonna discharge you on Thursday morning. So as soon as you’re up to it why don’t we go down to the courthouse and elope?” He queried, a smile on his lips. 

“Spence.. the weddings all planned. Five months isn’t a long time.” She countered, a small smile on her lips. 

“It is, it’s too long. I don’t want to waste another minute of my life not being married to you. I want you to be Mrs Reid and I want us to start living our lives together. We can still have the wedding, we’ll just get married twice.” He shrugged, and Y/N couldn’t believe she was really considering the idea. 

“Spence, I don’t know..” She trailed off, still needing a little convincing to get on board. 

He released her hand and stood from the chair, moving it over slightly before lowering himself down onto one knee, taking her hand again. “Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me-“

“You know you’ve already asked me this? Like a year ago.” She teased, and he chuckled shaking his head at her. 

“Hush, let me finish. Will you marry me, on Thursday?”

“Yes.” She answered with a grin, as though it was the most obvious answer in the world. 

He beamed, surging forward and wrapping her in his arms.

“You know, Garcia will kill us for getting married without her there.” She smirked as they pulled back, and Spencer nodded in agreement. 

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

“You think she won’t find out? I’ll leave you to deal with her when she gets angry, Dr. Reid.” She joked, and he laughed with her. 

“I think I can handle it, Mrs Reid.”

She grinned at the premature use of the name. “You can’t call me that until Thursday, you know.”

“Technically I can’t. But as soon as I can, I’ll never stop.” He promised, leaning down to kiss her once more. 

[sugiwa]

small dreams

It took one 27 second long video for Keigo to fall in love

The video looped through every news cycle, and each reaction varied from outright derision to almost mythical awe emerging. On YouTube, it was viral in fifty-three different countries and Starburst—a name derived from a candy company that the pro-hero was fond of—jokingly tweeted that she was more famous than All-Might.

And she might have been thanks to the reporter that not only caught her decking the father of a girl she just saved but also recorded the subsequent twenty-seven seconds it took for three police officers to pull her off him and pull her away. The peace sign Y/N threw up as the police led her into a car probably didn’t help, nor did the live stream of her twenty-four hours in a holding cell while they investigated her claim of the man’s abuse and finally released her.

Though there were news outlets that tried to pin Starburst down as a hero on the edge of villainy, her public reputation hadn’t taken any damage. It was hard, after all, to claim that she did the wrong thing when they heard the girl’s testimony and pulled her medical records. But, Starburst—or L/N Y/N—still faced punishment from the Hero Public Safety Commission despite all this.

Attacking an unarmed civilian was apparently a big no-no—even if he was an abusive asshole. She was spared having her license revoked until she retested the simple principle that she had refrained from using her quirk. Her sentence was lessened to a month-long suspension with a strict patrol schedule in some city near Tokyo.

Y/N could work with it. She could put up with the Commission’s inane chatter for the sake of her job, but she drew the line at issuing an apology. It took three hours to wiggle her way out of a press conference to address the event. By the time her meeting with the Commission and sentencing was done, Y/N retweeted the initial video with the caption: Totally worth it.

Keigo was slightly in love with Starburst. Maybe it was the way she strolled into the Hero Public Safety Commission building fresh out of handcuffs and bluntly told them that she wasn’t apologizing and would rather become a vigilante than listen to ten more minutes of them debating the future of her career.

Or maybe it was the video which he’d seen a hundred times over, where she looked like a hero. The kind he’d always dreamed of as a kid, the kind who swooped in and beat the bad guy and then offered you stickers and candy and told you everything would be alright because it was exactly what she’d done for that little girl.

Either way, L/N Y/N was a hero who deserved a little rest, which was why he was currently tailing her patrol route and taking care of the problems before she could move. Her quirk was right out of a comic book too. The golden energy that left her capable of issuing an instant KO.

“Will you leave me alone?” she snapped, finally turning around to glare at him. She had a warm face, not made for anger which was probably why the glare fell away a moment later, replaced by a smile. “I appreciate the help, but I’m not offering any fanservice in exchange.”

“Who said I was a fan?” His wings flapped, feathers flying back toward him.

“You regularly stalk girls mid-air? That sort of thing does not fly with me.” Y/N laughed, nose scrunching at her own joke. “Get it…cause we both fly….”

He smiled innocently, “Thought of that all on your own?”

Y/N groaned, twisting her earring, “Just because I didn’t go to a fancy-ass hero school like Wet Jeanist and Flameo Hotman doesn’t mean I’m dumb.”

Slight insulted by the nickname she gave his favorite hero, he asked, “Flameo Hotman? You mean Endeavor-san?”

“Ohhh, that’s a man-crush voice.” Her eyes tightened with mischief, “I’m gonna have to dip since I got a hot date with my credit card. See you later, Chicken Little.”

He watched her go in slight awe because Y/N really was as crazy as the stories said. Starburst was a hero that had a bit of a cult following. She wasn’t high enough in the rankings to be wildly popular the way he was—up until she went viral, that was. A graduate of Ketsubutsu who went on to attend college before actually becoming a hero, she was on a watch list with the Hero Public Safety Commission.

Apparently, non-conformity was an issue…who knew.

A rain of confetti fell over Keigo’s head, brightly colored and all covered in specks of glitter. He inhaled deeply, turning to see Starburst’s grinning face as she eagerly clapped. Endeavor, like always whenever he was forced to be in Starburst’s proximity, turned around and stalked down the hall. Her confetti burned in his wake. Y/N’s voice followed him, offering an empty congratulations to the hero.

“How’s my precious senpai doing?” she asked, turning her attention to him.

“You really know how to annoy him, huh?” asked Keigo staring at the empty hall. If you gave Y/N too much attention, she ran with it. “What’s the deal?”

Y/N shrugged, rolling her shoulders confidently, “Some people are not equipped to handle true talent.”

“Yeah, right,” snorted Keigo.

“I may or may not have drunkenly confessed that I had no idea who he was to a bunch of reporters during last week.” Y/N made a rude gesture with her hand. “I mean, if you’re not Number One, then do you really matter?”

“Harsh,” he ruffled his wings, freeing the last of her glitter confetti and letting it rain on the ground. “You all good with the Commission now?”

“All thanks to you! I owe you one, you know that?”

“Nah,” Keigo waved her off, resisting the urge to laugh as she made her bright eyes as wide as possible. “It was pretty brave of you. Plus, I think anyone would have done the same thing.”

Three months out of trouble, Y/N once again made headlines for ‘accidentally’ dropping a child trafficker off a building. She caught him before he hit the ground, but apparently, the authorities deemed the emotional damage a little extreme.

“They probably would have been a bit smarter about it, though.”

“Well, don’t worry, no one expects you to be the brains.”

Y/N pouted. “True.”

Keigo laughed. “What are you doing here anyway? You’re not in the top ten.”

“Is bullying the new rage these days?” Her pout grew, arms crossing over her chest, “Everyone’s got something snippy to say to me. Where’s Rumi when I need her?”

“Gonna hide behind her?”

“Fuck yeah.” Y/N nodded emphatically as she reached into her pocket for a pack of gum. She offered him a piece. “Let’s see how your chicken wings stand against her legs.”

Keigo looked at the gum and then her. The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them, “Wanna get something to eat?”

Her smile looked like the sun, “Thought you’d never ask.”

“So, what’s the deal with you and Dragonbreath?” asked Y/N, sprawling across his couch. It was the third time this week she was here. He should tell her to leave, but the words die in his throat in his mouth every time he tried.

There’s too much risk. Dabi’s listening in on everything he does these days, and he doesn’t want her anywhere near them. Not when he’s aware of what they’re planning. Not when he knows how Y/N would react.

She was rough and improper in everything she does, but there’s no one brighter or better when it came to genuine goodness.

Keigo dodged the question with his own. “Endeavor again?”

“Ran into him last week and got yelled at for ten minutes for getting in his way. The guy was in my path, and I’m the one getting yelled at? Next time, I’m drop-kicking him off his skyscraper.” She kicked her leg in the air, reminding him that she was scarcely dressed.

Was this what having a girlfriend like? Constantly jumping between fondness and horniness? He wasn’t complaining.

He heard this threat a million times. “Still mad about the fact that he has one?”

“I’m a simple country girl. I’d be happy with a peach orchard and some chickens.”

“Come here,” he crooked his finger at her. Y/N got up instantly, crossing the room toward the balcony where he stood. Her hands wrapped around his waist, slipping under his shirt, across his skin, over his chest. Too much and too little at the same time.

“You’ll get cold out here,” she murmured. He could sink in the warmth she offered.

“It’s nice seeing the world so still.”

A noise left her throat, wet and worried, “Hawks, whatever it is, whatever they’re making you do, I’ll be here. I promise.”

People joked about Y/N being dumb—he did it too often to count, but she saw more than most people did when it mattered.

“Why’d you become a hero?”

“Saved a cute boy once, and he gave me a kiss,” she said. He’d heard that story before. She offered it in every interview, never expanding on what boy or how she saved him. It was also a glaring lie.

He didn’t push her. He lied about too many things to count.

Keigo took her face between his hands—the urge to kiss that tiny speck by her eyes thrummed through him. It would take a thousand-thousand years for him to forget her face. Y/N turned, her lips skimming his palm, cold and warm at once.

He loved her because she was Y/N. Because in her, he could love himself and not grow cold from it. Because the numbness he’d always known leaked out in place of affection. He loved her boundlessly—above, below, and across—unhindered, without ill will, without enmity.

It was with her that he was Takami Keigo and not the current Number Two.

His hand cupped her neck, fingers tangling in the curls of her hair. Her lips opened under his. A trail of fire burst across his lips, and for a moment, he only knew the sweetness of her mouth. He drank her in, each breath, each hushed sound leaving her throat.

He would do what they asked and make the choices no one else could.

It was worth the world he dreamed of.

[tanoraqui]

There actually are enough good fics about postcanon tentative reforging of assorted pairs and even the whole of the Gusu Summer School No Brain Cell Trio to satisfy my niche itch, so pls enjoy these stray snippets of a fic I don't have to write:

Nothing would've happened if the cultivation conference wasn't at Cloud Recesses. But it was, Cloud Recesses with its pale stone and gracefully winding walkways and too many memories, including Lan Xichen sitting the whole thing out in seclusion somewhere... If it'd been at the Unclean Realm, Nie Huaisang would've been busy and if it'd been at Carp Tower the memories only would've been manageably bad, and if it was Lotus Pier or one of many smaller sects, it would've been...fine. Just fine.

But it was Cloud Recesses this year, this first conference since Jin Guangyao's downfall, and specifically it was half past ten at night, and Nie Huaisang was wandering the elegant pathways with a mostly full jar of wine in one hand. The previous jar, now entirely empty, had been left back in his room. He was a Nie, so he was only half as drunk as he'd always used to pretend at these things - but at least twice as drunk as he'd ever actually been.

After da-ge's death, of course. Before that, he used to get plenty drunk. Playfully drunk. With friends.

It would be a terrible idea for him to go appear on Lan Xichen's doorstep. Neither of them was ready for that yet.

So he appeared on Jiang Cheng's.

[ . . . ]

"Fine." Nie Huaisang pouted and turned. "I'll go ask Wei-xiong - "

And Jiang Cheng was easy, he was so easy, he'd always been easy, the only new thing is the faintest edge of wariness to his fury -

He grabbed Nie Huaisang's elbow in a flash and snapped, "Ugh, fine, I'll go - but I'm holding the wine."

Nie Huaisang laughed and handed it over. Jiang Cheng immediately took a deep swig.

[ . . . ]

It must've been a quiet night at the Jingshi. Wei Wuxian's sleeping robes didn't look the least bit hastily pulled on, and his lips were only the slightest bit red and puffy.

[ . . . ]

[for the record, this takes place in a book-show postcanon fusion wherein immediately post-Guanyin Temple, WWX and LWJ ran off to fuck in the bushes at least once a day for as long as possible, but in their absence, various sect leaders voted that Lan Wangji should be Chief Cultivator now, and alas some messenger caught up with them about six months into their honeymoon. Definitely caught them in flagrante delicto. Tragic for all. I’d probably communicate all this hereish somehow. It was definitely NHS who finally tipped someone off on how to actually find them.]

[ . . . ]

"Yes, yes, I'm coming," Wei Wuxian said, with a lidded look at Nie Huaisang, and Nie Huaisang burst into a giggles because the two most unequivocally lethal people he knew were afraid to leave each other alone with him, and it was satisfying to be recognized but also what's he going to do, personally? Cry at them? It'd taken him years to destroy Jin Guangyao, and at this point it'd take him months, if not years again to re-destroy the Yiling Patriarch, much less Sandu Shengshou. Especially when they both kept doing things like watching each others backs while pretending they weren't.

[ . . . ]

"Of course we need more!" Wei Wuxian declared. "This isn't even Emperor's Smile!"

[ . . . ]

"It's just a rat or something," Jiang Cheng scoffed.

"So?!" Wei Wuxian cried grandly. "Are we not noble cultivators? Is it not our duty to investigate this woman's complaint, and to slay whatever monster plagues her good inn’s wonderful cellar, whether deathly or monstrous or rodential it be?" He turned to Nie Huaisang and begged, "Help me out, Nie-xiong. You agree with me, right?"

Nie Huaisang clutched his cup against his chest, eyes wide, and shook his head in sharp jerks. "I don't know! I don't know!"

Wei Wuxian laughed and elbowed him in the side.

[ . . . ]

[while waiting for Wei Wuxian to send some sort of signal]

"You know I don't bear any grudge against Jin Ling, right?"

Jiang Cheng's impatient glare snapped to him, darkening with threat; his hand shifted on Sandu's hilt toward a drawing position. "What?"

"I don't bear any sort of grudge against Jin Ling," Nie Huaisang repeated, holding only the last jar of Emperor's Smile. "That's why you've been side-eyeing me all night, right? All conference." He took another sip (it really was the best!) and added recklessly, "If I wanted Jin Ling dead and disgraced, or all Carp Tower burned to ash, they already would be."

Sandu slid an inch out of its scabbard and Nie Huaisang watch it with fascinated curiosity. From a greater distance, he wondered if that was entirely healthy.

"What about Lotus Pier?" Jiang Cheng asked abruptly.

It took Nie Huaisang a blinking moment to focus on him.

"What about Lotus Pier?"

Jiang Cheng sat beside him on the cold earth and yanked the jar out of his hands, cruelly before Nie Huaisang could take another sip.

"Where's your grand terrible vengeance against me and mine? I get it, but if you're being honest for once right now, you could at least tell me when it's going to hit, and how."

"What?" Nie Huaisang pushed himself against his tree trunk, genuinely confused. "Why would i have a terrible vengeance planned against you?"

"I benefitted from Nie Mingjue's death, didn't I?" Jiang Cheng took another swig of wine of his own, and swung the jar illustratively. "My disciples have hunted in your territory while you 'weren't paying attention.' I absolutely fleeced you in that trade deal four years ago. And I worked with that bastard as much as anyone but Lan Xichen, especially on those damn watchtowers, and you broke him. So when's it my turn?" He pointed at Nie Huaisang, finger only wavering slightly. “If you fuck with Jin Ling, Wei Wuxian, or my sect, I will fuck you back.”

"You- oh, gimme that. Gimme. Gimme!" Nie Huaisang leaned forward and tried to grab the wine jar, and more importantly whined until Jiang Cheng handed it to him.

He stared at it for a moment, thrust it back and ordered, “Drink,” without letting it go, and once Jiang Cheng had dutifully tilted it back, pulled it back and slugged down the last swallows. He needed more alcohol for this much honesty, and so did Jiang Cheng.

He set the jar down very carefully, because the ground seemed to be moving, and leaned forward with even more care. He enunciated clearly, “Everyone fleeced me, and hunted in my territory, and I acsh- ass- let them. Why would I expect you to go looking for trouble with Jin Guangyao, when he had your heart locked in a box in his treasure room?”

Jiang Cheng, who was a respected master of all five arts but probably hadn’t actually read poetry for fun since an instructor had officially declared him as such, and who was himself at least a full wine jar in, squinted in angry confusion.

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes. “He had final say over where and how Jin Ling spent his time, and could’ve tried to poison him against you. What would you have even have done if I had come complaining?”

Jiang Cheng’s face only fell further, with the very sort of drunken moroseness Nie Huaisang was out here to avoid.

Nie Huaisang attempted to swap him sharply. He failed on both the swap and the sharpness. 

“Stoppit! Stop thinking you’re not useful! You weren’t! I needed to pry er-ge away from him and for that only Lan Wangji would work, and I needed someone to watch his back through thick and deadly thin, and to be so disruptive that even Meng Yao couldn’t...circle, sneaky, planning...”

They were waiting for the pulse of a light talisman from the other tunnel entrance, half a mile away. There was a small but very bright explosion. laced with resentful as well as spiritual energy.

“Motherfucker!” Jiang Cheng cursed, leaping to his feet and drawing Sandu in one hideously coordinated motion. 

“Just Lan Wangji, I think,” Nie Huaisang said, because Nie Mingjue himself couldn’t have stopped him. He groped for his own weapons - fan, check; wine jar - 

“Oh no!” 

“What?”  Jiang Cheng snapped, as he bent and dragged Nie Huaisang to his feet with one hand. (Hideously coordinated. Sword people, honestly...)

“He’s going to be so mad that we finished the wine without him!”

[ . . . ]

[three grown-ass men, two sect leaders and one Yiling Patriarch, flying at high speed through Caiyi Town on one sword, all screaming. Nie Huaisang is clinging to Wei Wuxian; Wei Wuxian is flinging to Jiang Cheng, a little bit to Nie Huaisang, and most importantly to a chicken, Jiang Cheng is flying the sword. There is a bedsheet draped over all of them from where they ran into a laundry line. It’s 2am. Again I say, all are screaming]

[ . . . ]

[it probably wasn’t a rat - not just one, at least. Wei Wuxian does something incredibly clever, possibly including a creative use of that bedsheet; Jiang Cheng singlehandedly defeats something in combat, probably after he and Wei Wuxian shove each other out of the way of blows without either of them acknowledging it. Nie Huaisang shoves them both under cover and then with perfect professionalism tells whoever came to check on the ruckus that they handled the problem exactly as planned with absolutely no involvement of alcohol, and the Chief Cultivator will foot the bill for the unfortunately absolutely necessary property damage. Overall, they did handle the problem, but the local cryptid they were chasing will only have its reputation swelled and its continued existence assumed by all locals. it is possible that they themselves made this cryptid up two decades ago, but idk how heavy-handed we want to be.]

[ . . . ]

Nie Huaisang was leaning heavily on Wei Wuxian by the time they got back to the guest quarters. He could hold his alcohol, he was a goddamn Nie, and frankly he’d had it adrenalined out of him at least twice this evening. But he’d also had rather a lot, and he didn’t have Jiang Cheng’s golden core or Wei Wuxian’s blithe lack of sleep schedule. 

“I missed this,” he admitted, head on Wei Wuxian’s (Mo Xuanyu’s) shoulder while Jiang Cheng opened the door.

Wei Wuxian leaned his head on Nie Huaisang’s. “Me too.”

“You’re both fucking annoying,” Jiang Cheng grouched, which meant, Me too.

Wei Wuxian stripped off Nie Huaisang’s muddy outer robe and tucked him into bed, and Jiang Cheng poured a glass of water from the pitcher by the door, drank it, poured another, scowled at Wei Wuxian for a moment, and set it on the bedside table. Wei Wuxian glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, finished with Nie Huaisang and started backing out of the room.

Nie Huaisang sat up more or less abruptly. “Both of you have got to stop that bullshit. I miss my brothers, okay? I’d I had a second chance...” He sagged back down with the plural, and flung an arm over his damp eyes. There was a glimmer in the sky; it’d be morning by Lan standards soon. “I fucking miss them.”

“...Ah,” said Wei Wuxian, who always spoke even when he didn’t know what to say.

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng said abruptly, and, “Drink your fucking water.” And the door slammed behind him as he walked out.

[...a few lines of dialogue later...]

“Seriously, you can go.” Nie Huaisang flicked a few tired fingers in dismissal.

“Are you sure?” Wei Wuxian added with an audible smirk, “Because if I stay up for another half hour, I can wake Lan Zhan with a morning...big ol’...loving...”

Nie Huaisang finally adjusted his arm to crack one eye up at him.

“People usually cut me off before I get that far,” Wei Wuxian admitted.

[ . . . a bit more dialogue and the end.]

[a-simple-gaywitch]

Resident Geniuses

Summary: When the BAU is called to NYC for a case, they weren’t expecting to have to pair up with the local Interpol team. Spencer wasn’t expecting to meet his female counterpart

Word Count: 1496

Warnings: Implied Sexual Content, Talks of Murder Case and Crime

Requested: Yes/No

“The measure of intelligence is the ability to change.” -Albert Einstein 

~

The BAU team was in New York working on a case. The city had yet another serial killer demanding their attention. The team was set up in the FBI field office, trying to lay down a profile. Unfortunately, this unsub would dump the bodies in New Jersey, making him harder to pinpoint. The team was getting closer until the next body showed up. Same MO and signature, but the victimology was completely different. 

Then the local Interpol team arrived. Hotch and the woman in charge of the other team went head-to-head almost immediately.

“The man who was murdered is an international art thief. That makes this our jurisdiction, Agent Hotchner.”

“But he crossed the state line into Jersey. That makes this our jurisdiction, Agent Langley.”

“Um, Maura, Agent Hotchner?” a shy woman towards the back of the group spoke up. “You’re missing the obvious solution of us working together,” she said. “Wouldn’t collaboration help us both reach our goal?”

Agent Langley looked at the woman. “You’re right, Doc.” She sighed. “Agent Hotchner, we should pair up our teams to combine what we know and what you know.”

After a bit of discussion, Maura and Hotch returned to the two gathered teams. 

“Morgan, Prentiss, you are going with Agent MacKenzie and Agent Leavitt to the crime scene,” Hotch said.

“Lorenzo, you’re staying here with Agent Jareau to keep the media at bay.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Reid, you’re staying here with Doctor (L/N).” Spencer’s head snapped up when he heard Hotch addressing him. Spencer looked over at you. You were sitting at a table, going through the FBI’s files. Spencer thought the way your brows furrowed in concentration was adorable. Just looking at you put butterflies in his stomach.

The two teams split up. Tanner MacKenzie, a man who was like your brother, patted your shoulder on his way out. 

“Good luck, Doc.” He looked at Spencer. “I’m sorry man, she’s gonna drive you mad before the end of the day.”

You flipped him off as you took a seat and looked through the files. “Why don’t you bugger off and go catch up to Steph.” It was the first time Spencer was really noticing your accent. 

After the other agents cleared out of the conference room, Spencer cleared his throat. “So, Dr. (L/N)-”

“Oh, (Y/N), please,” you interrupted him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I just don’t like the formality.”

He smiled at you. Spencer found you so endearing. “Call me Spencer.”

~

You and Spencer got along like a wildfire. While the two of you worked, Spencer learned that you were from a small town in Northern England but that you went to Oxford for your degrees. You just about matched him, with 3 PhDs and 4 Master’s degrees. 

He learned that your nickname was Doc, but only your team could call you that. He learned about your family and how hard it was for you to be an ocean away from them.

You laughed at all Spencer’s jokes, and you actually understood them. Spencer had never met anyone he got along with as quickly or as easily. You were intelligent, funny, and beautiful. And when the team finally got back to the hotel for the night, you were the only thing on Spencer’s mind.

Spencer looked up at the hotel ceiling, realizing he was truly, completely, unequivocally, fucked.

~

When Spencer arrived at the office the next morning, the Interpol team was already there. They were rushing around the office, functioning as a well-oiled machine. 

“What’s going on?” Hotch asked. 

“There was a double murder last night,” Agent Langley informed him. “Both were women. One has ties to a crime ring my team has been investigating, the other doesn’t. Both fit your preliminary profile for victimology.”

“This changes our whole outlook. We need to sit down, all of us, and discuss this.”

Once everyone settled at a conference table, Hotch said, “So, start giving me theories. Why the seemingly random kill before reverting back to his original victimology?”

“Was he a victim of opportunity?” Morgan asked. “Or he got in the way and needed to be eliminated?”

You shook your head. “No. Marcel Delacroix is -was- a recluse. He only left his apartment for jobs.”

“A hit job?” Prentiss suggested. “Maybe the unsub was hired by someone to take the art thief out?”

“That could be possible,” Agent MacKenzie said with a nod. “The world of an art thief is competitive, much like the world of the one making the art. Jobs can be hard to come by, especially if people know someone is good, like Delacroix.”

“But that brings up another question- what is this unsub’s true motive?” Jason Gideon asked. 

You were muttering under your breath, looking at the case file. 

“What’s going on up there, Doc?” MacKenzie asked. 

“Can I see the information on the previous victims again?” Hotch slid the files over to you. The BAU watched as you arranged the photos around the table. 

“What is she doing?” Prentiss asked.

“It’s her process. It only makes sense to her, but her genius always pulls through,” Langley said.

“Sounds familiar.” Morgan nudged Spencer, who was just watching you work. “Reid?”

“What? Sorry, I was trying to see if I could figure out what connections she made.”

“I got it!” you said. “None of these are random. They’re all linked to the same crime family.” You went on a spiel about how they all connect, and who the unsub was. “The only problem is, we don’t know where to find him.”

“Leave that to us,” Hotch said.

~

The two teams worked together to bring the unsub into custody. Thankfully, he didn’t make things harder for everyone until he was put in restraints. 

“Well, good work, Agent Hotchner,” Maura said, holding her hand out to shake the man’s. 

“You too, Agent Langley. It was nice to work alongside your team.

“Likewise. Well, I guess we should be going back to our own office. We have a lot of paperwork to fill out.”

Before your team left, you walked over to Spencer. “You know, Dr. Reid, that cell phone in your hands can be used for more than just work,” you said in a low voice. You handed him a card, brushing your fingers against his. It sent a shock through Spencer. “Goodbye, everyone! It was nice working with you!” She waved to the BAU before following her team out of the FBI office. 

Spencer smiled as he watched her leave. He looked down at the business card you gave him, your personal number scrawled on the bottom. In Roman Numerals. He tucked the card in his pocket before his team saw. 

~

“Hey, has anyone seen Reid this morning?” Hotch asked the team as they waited for the jet to be ready at the airstrip. 

“No, I thought he left for the hotel with Morgan last night,” JJ told him.

“He told me he was riding back with you,” Morgan said. 

“I’m here, I’m here!” Spencer said, running over to the team. “Sorry I’m late.”

“That’s not usually like you. Are you okay?” JJ asked. 

“What? Yeah, I’m fine. Just overslept.”

Gideon squinted at him. “You’re wearing the same clothes you had on yesterday.”

Spencer looked down at his rumpled clothes. “I, uh, I fell asleep reading last night and didn’t have time to change this morning.”

“Is that a hickey?” Emily asked him. Spencer’s hand flew up to cover the dark spot on his neck.

“No way, Pretty Boy has a hickey?”

Spencer’s face was bright red. “Shut up, Morgan.”

“So… Tell us about her!” JJ said.

“Yeah, who’s the lucky lady?” Morgan asked him.

“Um…”

“Guys. If Reid doesn’t want to tell us who he’s sleeping with, he doesn’t have to. As long as it isn’t interfering with his job.” Hotch gave Reid a pointed look. 

He shook his head. “No, sir.”

“Good. And I don’t want to hear any of you pestering Reid about it.”

The team climbed onto the jet. After everyone got settled, most falling asleep, Gideon took a seat next to Reid. 

“So, how was your night with Dr. (L/N)?” he asked.

“How did you-”

“You’re not that discrete, Spencer.” Gideon gave him a soft smile. 

Spencer smiled back. “She’s amazing. She makes me feel… normal. I don’t feel like I’m weird or just a brain with her.”

“She sounds like a lovely girl. Why don’t you want to tell the others about her?”

Spencer sighed, looking out at the clouds. “I guess I just want something for myself for a bit. I really care for (Y/N) and I know how invasive the team can be. I don’t want them to scare her away.”

“I don’t think they could scare her away if they tried. She’s perfect for you.”

~

“Never give up on something you can’t go a day without.” -Winston Churchill