#someone kill him in a car hammer explosion

[mirelurk-prince]

Elon: oh boy, a series where there are mini nuclear reactors in all the cars that explode when you hit them? What a great idea

[lover-of-mine]

i haven’t been on in ages and now there’s all this discourse and you usually know things about everything

so what the hell is going on with 911????

Okay so, the 8b opened with buddie being a romcom intertwined with a criminal minds episode where Maddie and Athena try to catch a serial killer and Maddie tells them to kill themselves then gets kidnapped by them, she gets her throat slashed trying to escape, because Chimney shows up where she's being held, he doesn't know and almost gets killed himself, don't worry though, she survives and saves Chimney's life with a hammer, did I mention she's pregnant? She's pregnant, doesn't miscarry. It's a boy. Hurray. Eddie moves to Texas. Buddie goodbye in the rain sponsored by U-Haul.

Bobby's mother shows up, she runs a cult being a faith healer. She's dying of cancer though, Bobby then forgives her for leaving him alone with his alcoholic father and leaving him to become a child alcoholic himself. While we are figuring that out, Eddie isn't on the episode but Buck says his name 15 times, he hooks up with Tommy, then Tommy tries to get back together but he calls Eddie the competition, Buck snaps and says he doesn't want to fuck everyone he has feelings for and doesn't have feelings for everyone he fucks, then he escalates to somehow saying Tommy was accusing him of being hopelessly pining for Eddie. Oh, all this happens while Buck moves to Eddie's house, yes, Tommy hooks up with Buck on Eddie's house, fully aware it's Eddie's house then wakes up in the morning, buys champagne and about 100 dollars worth of groceries, because the competition is gone. It didn't go the way he was hoping.

Then we finally see Eddie in Texas, no one cares about what sent Chris to Texas anymore, there isn't an opening at the firehouse, Eddie doesn't have a job, so he sells the truck, becomes an Uber in a 8 minutes long montage of random people in his car, patches things up with Chris after Chris and one of his friends get him as their driver. The episode has product placement for Uber, Prius, Playstation, and m&ms. In the meantime Maddie loses her voice in some fear reaction to getting back to the job, she's fine though.

Four buddie facetime calls later, Eddie's parents are being demons, Chris throws up at his chess tournament, Eddie "dad's up" and takes Chris back. We find out he did ballroom dancing. Not relevant, just putting it out there. He didn't yell at his mother but he did leave his father in a city 6 hours away, you win some, you lose some. While this was happening in LA everyone but Athena forgets Hen's birthday and they keep running into the same guy. The guy hijacks a bus, accidentally stabs someone, Hen ends up hostage, the guy is actually quite nice, he gets Hen a gift. This episode is actually added at the last minute, allegedly finished about 7 days before it was set to air.

Maddie gets a failed gender reveal party. They answer to a pileup, Ravi doesn't check the backseat, there's a kid trapped, Bobby goes to get the kid, the car explodes, Bobby's survives, Ravi wants to quit, Buck doesn't let him, they answer to an explosion at a lab that researches infectious diseases. Crazy scientist creates a super virus to sell the cure for the pandemic she will start because she really really really wants a Nobel Prize. There's a second explosion, Buck is locked out of the lab. Chim is infected, Hen has a collapsed lung, Bobby does surgery. Their PPE is their normal gear and duct tape. They're diy-ing treatments as Chimney is dying on the phone with Maddie. They find out the cure is in the lab after the military decides they all can die, Ravi, they call him Rav now, goes to get it, they all get threatened with terrorism charges. The cure isn't there. Everything is lit in the bluest light ever created by men. Athena and Buck go after the cure themselves, they find it, the cure was in a bedazzled Stanley cup she stole from another researcher, this is not relevant, I just like saying it. But then the army and the fbi find them, because every law enforcement agency is in the case, they distract them, with a helicopter chase, sounds cool but it was really boring, the showrunner wanted it to be 4 minutes long, had to be stopped, Athena gets the cure to the lab. Chimney is cured. We find out Bobby is infected. He got infected saving Ravi. There's no more cure. Bobby is dead. All charges get dropped because they won't risk people finding out that there was almost an outbreak in LA. We don't see a body though. Eddie is not there.

But a bunch of stuff about this episode leaks beforehand, including Bobby's funeral procession, a script that shows his burial and resurrection in the form of a 911 call where he says he's being buried alive, and a video of Peter on set in uniform with everyone at the station post filming everything for his death. Everything about this decision is confusing. The episode is rated 4 on imdb. Kenny is crying in interviews, Peter says he doesn't want to leave, Angela says there's no Athena without Bobby. Oliver is being cryptic on Instagram posting and deleting pictures of Brad who would've died in his show but didn't, and referencing the Wrath of Khan in his goodbye post, Ryan is sharing edits of Bobby with a pink bow, Aisha shares a goodbye post with an emotional caption, deletes it and reuploads with a more vague one. A Disney executive goes on record about how they didn't want or approve of this death. Oh, while they were filming the procession there was an alleged fight about tomatoes between the Ryan and Lou. Stills from 813 were also deleted because there are lines of white powder next to Kenny, the actual scene might've been edited to cut that out too.

Anyway, there's a 2 week hiatus, nothing makes sense. Everyone is wondering if Bobby is dead for real. No promotion for the episode, jounalists get screeners day of, no interviews. 816 airs. It's actually about Athena helping a mother who thinks her dead son was kidnapped and his death was a coverup. Athena goes full Athena, exhumes the body, there is no body, all signs point to the mother was right, plot twist, the mother was wrong. Lesson to accept loss or something. Lowkey feels like the show is mocking us. Athena didn't want to choose where to bury Bobby, the military was holding up his body, Gerrard is back, Chim is firmly in the anger stage. Eddie is serving after having 50 seconds of screentime total in the past 3 episodes. Buck is somehow the stable one. No eulogies. The funeral is actually the last 5 minutes of the episode. Athena sends Bobby to Minnesota to be buried with his first wife and kids. No one but her and the kids are there. The scene is somehow the same from the leaked script. We brace ourselves for Bobby to rise from the dead. He doesn't. The episode ends. The water is on fire in the promo for 817. The episode is rated 2.2 on imdb. No one is happy. Even the Facebook wine moms are pissed and saying they'll never watch the show again.

And that's what you missed on Glee.

[multifandomficsx]

Nowhere to Hide -- Chapter 3

A/N: Things are picking up!! This is a slower chapter. Gotta let Hotch and you bond a bit. 

Summary: Mainly a Hotch and reader focused chapter. Your protective detail won’t be fully initiated until morning, leaving tonight an open window for something disastrous if you were left alone. Hotch decides the best way to keep you safe for the rest of the night is to accompany you himself.

W.C: 3.7k 

Content warnings: strong language and stalking.

Chapter 3

You had moved from your desk to the sofa trying to calm your nerves. The photo’s, against Hotch’s precautions to not look at them, are spread out across the table. A sickening mosaic of your life through someone else’s eyes. Images of you at the bar, walking to your car, standing at your bedroom window - completely unaware. The realization that someone had been watching, tracking your every move and killing because of you, makes your skin crawl. Those women didn’t need to die for you and it was clear those were surrogates for what he ultimately wanted to do to you. 

Suddenly remembering the top shelf whiskey you hid in your office, you get up swiftly, fast enough to make your head spin. Pouring yourself a glass, you take in a shaky breath. Hotch had been gone for a good thirty minutes now, he said he had to make some calls, but you had started to wonder if he was coming back. 

Your hands tremble as you grip the glass of whiskey and sit back down, crossing your legs on the seat of the sofa. The burn of the alcohol promises some kind of numbness, some way to quiet the fear rattling in your chest. But before you get your first sip, a hand closes over the top of the glass and removes it from your grasp.

“ That’s not a good idea,” Hotch says, his voice low and steady. Calm. Calm in a way that makes you realize just how shaken you are. Shaken enough you didn’t even notice him walk into the room. 

You swallow hard, staring at the deep concern in his eyes. He doesn’t move right away, just watches you, silently waiting for you to breathe, to steady yourself. His presence alone is grounding, strong and unshakable in a way you desperately needed right now, whether you wanted to admit that or not. 

“ I just…” Your voice falters, your head drops to look at the oh so interesting floor, your fingers finding each other to fidget. “ I don’t know how to stop feeling like this. I need to do my job. It’s my fault-”

Hotch doesn’t let you finish. Instead, he carefully places the glass to the side and crouches down in front of you. His palm is warm when it settles on your shoulder, a reassuring weight, tethering you to reality. 

“ You don’t need to do anything. I’m getting you a protective 24 hour detail and sending you home. If it makes you feel any safer, you can pick out the police officers that will survey you.” He says firmly, his dark eyes locking onto yours. He pauses, afraid to say the next part out loud. “ You’re off the case.”

It seems like every single emotion your feeling floods to the front into a white hot rage. Your head snaps up, heart hammering, your tone dangerous. “ What?” 

He exhales slowly, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable. “ It’s not up for discussion,” He says, his voice firm and unwavering. “ You’ve been targeted. That makes you a victim in this case, not an investigator.”

Anger burns in your chest. You stand from your seat and shake off the hand that’s remained on your shoulder since it was placed there. “ That is not your decision to make.”

“ It is my decision, I am in charge of this case.” He counters, crossing his arms. “ And I won’t allow you to put yourself in any more danger when you’re already in the center of it.” 

Your laugh is curt and explosive, “ Agent Hotchner, with all due respect, I would like to decide whether or not I’m going to hide away like a scared child or if I’m going to stay and catch this bastard. I know how to handle myself. I’m not going to sit on the sidelines while someone-” You swallowed hard, gesturing toward the photos, “ While someone does this to me.”

His expression softens, just for a moment, but the concern in his eyes is even more unbearable than his stubbornness. “ I know you’re capable,” His tone hushed. “ That’s not the point.”

“ Then what is the point?” You demand.

His hands settle on his hips, his lips pressing into a tight line. The silence between the two of you, heavy and charged. He hesitates, stopping himself from saying something he might regret later on. He can’t go on a tangent about Haley, about how the fact that this is happening to someone he’s only just met is digging up past trauma of how he lost one of the only good things in his life. How that if something were to happen to you, he would never forgive himself for allowing you to continue as if you weren’t being victimized. The quiet stretches on before he exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. 

“You can stay on the case,” He says at last, the words sounding like it cost him something. Perhaps they did. “ But if you do, I’m not leaving you alone tonight.” 

You blink, thrown off by the sudden shift. “Hotch-”

“This isn’t up for debate,” he interrupts. “I can’t-” He stops himself. Eyes heavy and sad with something unknowable to you before he finishes, “I won’t let anything happen to you. It’s past midnight, it’s too late for any sort of security to get established. I’ve already arranged for a patrol car to come by your house every thirty minutes.”

Something tightens in your chest, something that has nothing to do with fear. You should argue. You should tell him it's unnecessary. But the truth is, you don’t want to be alone. And the way he’s looking at you, there had to be something from his past triggering this response. Like keeping you safe isn’t just his job, but something deeper. 

“Okay,” You barely get your voice above a whisper.

His shoulders relax just slightly. “Okay.”

The drive to your home is quiet, the hum of the engine filling the space between you. Streetlights cast fleeting shadows across Hotch’s face, his face as still as marble as he keeps his eyes on the road.  

You shift in your seat, hands resting in your lap, fingers idly twisting together. The argument at the precinct still lingers in your mind—sharp, heated words exchanged in frustration, your refusal to back down clashing against his need for control. You had been angry, defiant. The temper you kept so well under wraps, especially at work, had gotten the better of you. 

But now, sitting in the quiet of the car, the weight of it feels different. Less like a battle and more like something neither of you wanted to fight in the first place.  

You take a slow breath. "I’m sorry."  

Hotch doesn’t react right away. His hands remain steady on the wheel, his focus still trained on the road. But after a moment, his gaze flickers toward you, just for a second, before returning forward.  

"You don’t have to apologize," he says, voice calm, measured.  

"I do," you insist, glancing down at your hands. "I wasn’t being fair. I know you were just trying to look out for me. That’s your job."  

His knuckles tighten around the steering wheel, a small shift that most people wouldn’t notice. But you do.  

"I am looking out for you," he corrects, his voice firm but not unkind. "That hasn’t changed."  

You nod, exhaling softly. "I know."  

Silence settles again, but it’s different this time. Not strained. Just… there.  

After another stretch of road passes beneath you, he speaks again—quieter this time. "You don’t have to do this alone. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” Even he seemed stunned by this admission because he immediately backpedaled, “My team and I have your back. They’ve already been notified about the situation.” 

You look at him then, the passing streetlights illuminating his profile in flickering bursts. He doesn’t turn toward you, but his words hang in the air, a heavy promise you’re not quite sure he can keep.

As he pulls into your driveway, you swallow past the tightness in your throat. "I know," you say again, softer this time.

Hotch sits on the far end of your couch, posture relaxed but alert, one arm draped over the back while the other rests on his knee. He looks completely at ease, but you know better. He’s watching. Always watching.  

Just a day ago, he was a stranger. Now, he’s sitting in your living room, because some faceless monster has decided to invade your life. Because you refused to step back from the case. Because he refused to leave you alone.  

"You don’t have to hover, you know," you murmur, curling your legs beneath you as you sip the tea you had brewed for yourself a few moments ago  

His lips twitch, the closest thing to amusement you’ve seen from him so far. "I’m not hovering."  

You arch a brow. "You’re definitely hovering."  

He exhales, shaking his head slightly before glancing at you again. In the dim glow of the lamp, you catch something softer in his expression—concern, maybe.

"Are you always this stubborn?" he asks, voice low, almost teasing.  

"Are you always this overprotective?"  

His jaw ticks, but he doesn’t deny it. Instead, he shifts, leaning slightly closer. "You’ve only known me a day, don’t you know it’s rude to make assumptions." he points out.  

You shrug. "And yet, here you are. Babysitting me."  

His gaze lingers for a second too long. "I wouldn’t call it that."  

Your stomach flips, heat rising to your cheeks. You blame the exhaustion, the stress, the absurdity of the situation. Because this should be strange. This should feel intrusive. But instead, it’s oddly…comforting. Like some part of you already trusts him, even though you shouldn’t, not yet.  

"Well," you sigh dramatically, setting your cup down. “ If you’re going to be my personal bodyguard, we should at least do something to pass the time."  

Hotch lifts a brow. "Like what?"  

"You wanna put a movie on?"  

His stare is incredulous, but you see the flicker of amusement there. "You want to watch a movie? While you’re being stalked?"  

You shrug. "What, does the FBI handbook say I have to sit in silence and stare at the walls?"  

He exhales through his nose, clearly fighting a smirk, before finally conceding. "Fine," he mutters. "But I get to pick."  

Your mouth drops open. "That’s not how movie night works—"  

"It is now," he says, already reaching for the remote.  

And just like that, the tension eases—just a little. Because for a night filled with fear, with uncertainty, with the weight of an unspoken threat looming over you—somehow, this feels safe.

Hotch browses through your streaming options with the same precision he probably uses to profile suspects. You watch him, arms crossed, waiting for him to pick something unbearably serious. A documentary, maybe. Something about crime, because that would be so on-brand.  

Finally, he stops. You lean over slightly, trying to catch a glimpse. The Godfather.  

You blink. "You’re kidding."  

He glances at you, one brow lifting. "What’s wrong with The Godfather?"  

"What’s wrong?? Hotch, it’s three hours long, and I highly doubt you’re in the mood for an in-depth discussion about the downfall of Michael Corleone."  

He gives you a look, half-amused, half-exasperated, and backs out of the selection. "Fine. Your turn."  

Grinning, you grab the remote before he can change his mind, quickly scrolling through the list. After a moment, you settle on something far more ridiculous, an over-the-top action movie, the kind with terrible one-liners and explosions that defy the laws of physics.  

Hotch stares at the screen. Then at you. Then back at the screen.  

"You’re joking," he says flatly.  

"Nope." You plop back against the couch, smug. "If I have to endure your hovering, you have to endure this."  

He sighs, long-suffering, but you catch the faintest hint of a smirk as he settles in.  

A few minutes pass, the movie unfolding in all its absurd glory. It’s comfortable, easy. Until you shift to grab your cup of tea and realize just how close you are now. Somewhere in the last half-hour, the space between you disappeared, your legs stretched out near his, your shoulder just shy of brushing his sleeve.  

You tell yourself it’s fine. Normal. But your body betrays you, hyper-aware of his presence, of the steady rise and fall of his breath.  

Then, he speaks, low and casual, but with something careful beneath it. "You should try to get some sleep soon."  

You huff. "What, are you adding ‘sleep schedule supervisor’ to your list of hovering duties?"  

"You’ve had a long day." His voice softens just slightly. "Your mind needs rest."  

You could argue. You could tell him that sleep won’t come easy tonight, not with the knowledge that someone out there, someone dangerous, is still watching, still waiting.  

But instead, you glance at him, taking in the steady confidence in his expression, the quiet promise in his words.  

For the first time all day, you think maybe—just maybe, you don’t have to be on edge. Not with him here.  

So you exhale, letting yourself sink a little deeper into the couch. "Alright, Hotch. One more explosion, and then I’ll think about it."  

He shakes his head, but there’s something softer in his gaze now. "Deal."  

And somehow, despite everything, the night feels just a little less terrifying.

The credits roll, the screen bathing the room in dim, flickering light. You exhale slowly, stretching out beneath the blanket you’d grabbed halfway through the movie. The warmth of it does little to chase away the unease curling in your stomach, but you tell yourself you’re fine. You have to be fine.  

Hotch hasn’t moved much, still seated at the other end of the couch, still watching. Not you, exactly, but the space around you, his focus shifting between the door, the windows, the shadows stretching along the walls. His presence is a quiet kind of reassurance, a steady weight in the room that keeps the fear at bay, even as exhaustion tugs at you.  

You shift, curling onto your side, facing away from him. The pillow beneath your head is soft, too soft, doing nothing to distract from the tension in your shoulders, the lingering paranoia pressing at the edges of your mind. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing sleep to come, but every time you drift, flashes of the photographs flash behind your eyelids, images of you in moments that should have been private, moments stolen by someone who shouldn’t be there.  

Your fingers clutch the blanket tighter. Your breath hitches. You remind yourself that the doors are locked, that Hotch is right there, that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you.  

Still, your heart refuses to slow.  

Minutes pass. Maybe longer. The quiet of the house is suffocating, too loud in its stillness. You shift again, restlessly adjusting the blanket, trying not to seem as unsettled as you feel.  

Suddenly there’s movement. Not yours but his. 

A barely-there shift, the couch dipping ever so slightly, a presence settling just a bit closer than before. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t intrude. But somehow, the awareness of him, of his careful watchfulness, of the unwavering security he brings, makes the darkness seem less suffocating.  

Your breath evens out, just slightly.  

The tightness in your chest eases, just a little.  

Eventually, sleep finds you.  

The room is dark when you wake, the silence of your home pressing in around you. For a moment, you don’t remember falling asleep. Only the distant hum of the TV, the warmth of the blanket, and the quiet weight of knowing Hotch was there, keeping watch.  

Now, the space beside you is empty.  

You blink, disoriented, before turning over on to your side. The sheets are tangled around your legs, you must have gotten up from the couch at some point and went upstairs to your room, though you didn’t remember waking. 

You close your eyes again, awaiting sleep to find you once again. Then you heard it - a faint creak, like a footstep on a floorboard. Your heart thuds against your chest as you shoot straight up in bed. You hold your breath, eyes darting around the room waiting to hear if it would come again. It was just the house settling, you told yourself. But the stillness felt deliberate to your exhausted brain. 

Slipping out of bed, you move quietly through your home, padding barefoot down the stairs. The dim glow of the living room lamp spills into the darkness, casting long, golden streaks across the floor.  

And there he is.  

Hotch sits in the armchair near the window, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, scanning the world outside like a man waiting for something to strike. His sleeves are pushed up and wrinkled, forearms resting on his knees, fingers loosely laced together. He looks tired, not just physically, but in a way that settles deep into his bones.  

He doesn’t startle when you step closer. He must have heard you coming.  

"You should be sleeping," he says, voice quiet but steady.  

You cross your arms, leaning against the back of the couch. "I guess sleep is having a hard time finding me. You should rest too, it’s been a long day. I can keep watch for a bit, it’s nice to know you’re here if I need you."  

A small exhale—almost a laugh, but not quite. His gaze doesn’t leave the window. "I don’t sleep much."  

You hesitate, watching him. There’s something heavier beneath his words, something you know he’s not saying.  

"When did I move to my room?" you asked instead.  

"You were uncomfortable," he replies, and your question was answered in that simple message. You hadn’t woken up.

Something warm flickers in your chest. You look at him, the sharp angles of his face softened in the low light, the exhaustion evident in the lines near his eyes. 

You shift, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself. "Is it always like this for you?"  

He glances at you now, brow furrowing slightly. "What?"  

"The watching. The waiting." You swallow, glancing toward the window. "Never really letting yourself rest."  

His jaw tightens. He doesn’t answer right away, and you almost regret asking. But then, his gaze drops for a moment, something sad, but reconciled with, flashing across his expression.  

"After Haley died," he says quietly, "I didn’t sleep at all. Not for a long time."  

The admission is simple. Matter-of-fact. But it cuts through the space between you like a blade, heavy and raw.  

Your breath catches. "Hotch—"  

"It’s not the same," he says quickly, shaking his head. "I know that." A pause. "But the feeling... I recognize it."  

You do too. The fear. The helplessness. The awful weight of knowing that someone had invaded your life, had taken something from you that you can’t ever get back.  

You don’t know what to say. So you don’t say anything. Instead, you step forward, moving carefully, slowly—giving him the chance to move if he wants to.  

He doesn’t.  

“Sit with me?” 

The question is innocent enough and didn’t feel like you were breaking any professional boundaries. 

He looks up at you and nods slightly before getting up and moving to the sofa, eyes still locked on the windows and doors of your home. 

As he settles on the couch, you grab cups of water for the both of you , noticing how dry your mouth was, you only assumed Hotch was dehydrated as well. You look out from the open refrigerator over at him, to find him eyes on you. Suddenly you felt exposed, not in a bad way, but he was watching you with careful eyes do the most mundane task. 

Getting caught, he looked back over at the window and you padded over to the couch, placing the water in front of him on the coffee table.

You lower yourself onto the couch beside him, tucking your legs beneath you, your shoulder just barely brushing his. For a moment, neither of you speak. You both just breathe..  

The minutes stretch between you, wrapped in a silence that isn’t heavy, but comfortable. The kind of quiet that doesn’t need to be filled.  

Hotch doesn’t move, his gaze still fixed outside.

Your eyes grow heavy, the exhaustion creeping back in, but you fight it for a moment. Part of you feels like you should stay awake, that sleeping means letting your guard down. That if you close your eyes, you might wake to another reminder that someone has been watching you.  

But then there’s him.  

His presence is steady, unwavering. He doesn’t fidget, doesn’t shift uncomfortably under the weight of silence. He just is. And something about that, that makes your body finally start to relax, your muscles slowly unwinding in a way you didn’t think possible tonight.  

Your head tilts before you can stop it, a soft, tired movement that brings you against his shoulder.  

Hotch tenses for the briefest second, so slight you might have imagined, before you feel him breathe out, the tension slipping away. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t adjust, doesn’t pull away, doesn’t do anything except let you rest against him.  

The warmth of him is solid, grounding, and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest lulls you further into sleep.  

His scent, faint cologne from being worn all day, something warm and clean, wraps around you, familiar despite the fact that less than 24 hours ago was the first time you had properly met outside of a lecture.

Your eyelids flutter, the exhaustion winning. You barely register the way his head tilts just slightly, as if acknowledging your weight, as if making room for you to stay. 

Once again sleep had found you, but this time, for the rest of the night.

[felixcloud6288]

Higurashi: Beyond Midnight Recap

This is a side-story that takes place 20 years after the Hinamizawa Disaster.

Despite being part of the overall canon, this arc does not feel like a story in Higurashi. It takes place in the same universe, in the same place, and has some of the same characters; but that story is long over in this world.

Even the once-per-arc shot of the village feels different. The image is not painted as beautiful and serene. It is instead ominous due to occult interest in the place.

The first half of this arc felt like a horror thriller. We have disappearing vehicles, a murder, and a sense that someone is out to kill everyone. But once we know what is happening, the arc turns into an action thriller instead.

The arc's overall tone doesn't feel like the tone of Higurashi, but I supposed that's fine. Higurashi's story ended 20 years ago. We don't even hear any higurashi in the background.

The author's notes on the arc bring up Rashomon as an inspiration. Everyone has their own understandings and secrets muddying the truth.

Otobe stole a cash card and doesn't want the police involved, Towada murdered Takumi and is trying to escape before anyone finds out, Mion is being pursued and doesn't want to mention that, and Arakawa is investigating Oyashiro-sama's curse and is filtering everything through that lens.

All of these aspects fed into themselves until everyone started to weave a completely false interpretation of what was going on and believed there was a fake threat of a curse trying to trap them there to the point they almost became blind to the very real threat of a yakuza gang hunting them down.

This arc is honestly an amazing example of the unreliable narrator trope. Otobe and Towada are actively lying to the other members of the group, but they're also lying to us. And the way they lie is presented very differently.

When we see things through Otobe's perspective, we're given an objective (but not complete) perspective. We saw him walk out of the car and then slip off the cliff. When he says the car vanished, we know he's lying because we saw that never happened. This puts everything he says and does into question going forward, especially when he's not in the scene.

But when we see things through Towada's perspective, we're seeing things as she wants us to see them. We don't get to see her murder Takumi because she doesn't want us to. We don't see her hide his body because she doesn't want us to. When she's alone, Takumi is suddenly speaking and was with her when she was leaving because she wants us to believe he was alive at the time. We're not given her objective perspective. We are given a very warped narrative that hides the truth from us.

It kind of adds to the parallel between Otobe and Towada. Otobe has been acting impulsively and without thought so we can see through his lies. But Towada has been meticulous and planning so we couldn't see any obvious lies.

This arc is the epilogue of a bad ending. And the worst part to me is we invest so much time learning about the cast of Higurashi and hoping for a good ending. But when that good ending doesn't happen, and we're instead faced with another ending where everyone dies, the world moved on.

That panel where Arakawa found the list of victims at the school hostage case really hammers that in. We know so much about the casts' pasts, their interests, hobbies, traumas, hopes. But to the greater world, all we get is a list of victims.

And I'm choosing the following panel as my favorite this arc because of that. Rena's name is not mentioned. She is just a girl from the school. We don't see her face. The focus is on the blood she shed.

The world outside does not know Rena as a girl who loves cute things, who cares about her friends, who is observant and perceptive, who fears Oyashiro-sama.

The world only knows her as a girl who took her classmates hostage because she thought aliens were real and then killed herself and her classmates in an explosion.

(How does every one of my favorite panels end up having Rena in them. She was barely in this arc and still won it.)

The only times we see the faces of anyone in the main cast is when Mion or Shion thinks of them. It makes sense. No one else knows who they are.

There isn't a lot of extra detail to add to the mysteries going on. We get to learn what some of the fallout of the disaster was. Particularly we know that many residents of Hinamizawa went insane and died of mysterious deaths after the disaster. So if there is some organization or power behind the disaster, it may be interested in killing all people from the village rather than just destroying the village itself.

Bold text is new info.

Character Info:

Keiichi Maebara: He moved to Hinamizawa three weeks ago. He was a generally average student but excelled when he started cram school. However he became frustrated and his father decided to move to Hinamizawa after some things happened.

Rena Ryugu: Birth name “Reina”. She had moved out of Hinamizawa when she was younger. At some point she assaulted three boys with a bat and smashed every window in her school. In her psych evaluations, she frequently talked about Oyashiro-sama as if she is possessed by it. She moved back to Hinamizawa a year ago.

Mion Sonozaki: Leader of the group’s after-school club. She has several misdemeanors due to her actions during the village’s protest against the dam project. She’s the heir to the Sonozaki family and lives with her grandmother. She was involved in several of the past murders. She has a demon tattoo on her body.

Satoko Hojo: Related to the second and fourth set of victims. She and Rika live together. She had a bad relation with her step-father to the point she falsely accused him of abuse. She relied heavily on her brother when they were living with their aunt and uncle. She believes herself cursed because she had damaged the statue of Oyashiro-sama a few years ago.

Rika Furude: Related to the third set of victims. Rika is the head of the Furude family which is one of the main houses of Hinamizawa. She’s in charge of the priesthood. Rika is believed to be the reincarnation of Oyashiro. She has the power to see the future and foresaw the murders as well as her own imminent death in 1983.

Shion Sonozaki: Mion’s twin sister. Shion lives in Okinomiya with their parents. She’s the manager for the Hinamizawa Fighters baseball team.

Curaudo Ooishi: A detective with the local prefecture who wants to figure out the cause of all the deaths. He suspects a group within the village is behind the deaths. The villagers call him Oyashiro-sama’s messenger because he’s interacted with every victim prior to their deaths. He has dealt with the Sonozakis in the past and has a scar because of it. He was friends with the dam project manager.

Jirou Tomitake: A photographer who visits Hinamizawa several times through the year. He died by scratching out his throat. Jirou Tomitake is not his real name.

Miyo Takano: A nurse at the local clinic. She’s interested instudying the doctrines of Hinamizawa. She went missing after the Cotton Drifting Festival. She was strangled and her corpse was cremated. Her autopsy suggests she died the night before the festival however. The night of the festival, Takano was driving off the main road with Tomitake’s bike in the backseat.

Kyosuke Irie: The main doctor of the Irie clinic. He is also the coach to the Hinamizawa Fighters.

Satoshi Hojo: Satoko’s older brother. He used to be part of the after-school club. He disappeared a year ago. Prior to his disappearance, he started carrying a bat and practiced his swinging. He also became distant from the club. Satoshi may have been the one who killed his aunt. It was believed that he had been saving money to buy Satoko a doll, but then he withdrew the money and vanished on her birthday. However the doll Satoko wanted had been purchased that day.

Mamoru Akasaka: A police officer from Tokyo. He came to Hinamizawa in 1978 to investigate a kidnapping case. Rika warned him to return to Tokyo and later told him about the imminent series of murders and asked Akasaka to save her. Akasaka did not heed her warnings and as a result, his wife died in an accident. He never returned to Hinamizawa, but later wrote a book about the mysteries about it.

Village details:

Hinamizawa was originally known as Onigafuchi. The residents were believed to be descended from demons and the nearby villages offered tribute out of fear.

Oyashiro-sama is believed to be a god who gave the demons human form so they could live amonst humans

After the war, Mion’s grandfather, Souhei Sonozaki, used black market funds to bring great prosperity to the village.

There are three main houses in Hinamizawa: The Sonozakis, the Kimiyoshis, and the Furudes.

Murder Mystery details:

Since 1979, someone has died each year during the Cotton Drifting Festival.

The first death was the director of the Dam Project. He was murdered and dismembered by several people. The person who took the right arm is still at large.

The second death was Satoko’s parents. They fell off a cliff. The wife’s body was never found.

The third death was Rika’s parents. Her father died of an illness and her mother drowned herself in the swamp. Her body was never found.

The fourth death was Satoko’s aunt. She was beaten to death. Satoko’s brother Satoshi also went missing around that time. While a drug addict had been convicted for the murder, it may be possible that Satoshi was the actual killer.

The fifth death was Jirou Tomitake. He clawed out his throat after apparently being attacked by several people. Tomitake’s death is suspected of being drug induced.

Miyo Takano was also murdered. She was strangled and then burned.

Every death has a pattern of one discovered death and one missing person. People in the village refer to the disappearances as the person being “demoned away”.

The villagers refer to the series of deaths as Oyashiro-sama’s curse due to the connections to the dam project. However, each new victim is less and less connected to the project. Tomitake had no connection at all, and Ooishi suspects the murderers are just targeting outsiders at this point.

Most if not all the murders were instigated by the Sonozakis to protect the village from outside threats.

Oyashiro-sama’s Curse and other mysteries

Rika Furude was found disemboweled outside Furude Shrine. The reason and perpetrator are unknown.

Poisonous gas erupted from Onigafuchi swamp enveloping the village and killing its residents. While it could be called a natural disaster, there are some inconsistencies that could call that into doubt. Many suspect it to be Oyashiro’s wrath for Rika’s death.

Rika predicted the series of murders and her own death. However, she did not foresee the destruction of the village.

Many relatives to the villagers went mad after the disaster and several died under mysterious circumstances

One speculation is the villagers were infected by alien brain parasites and the disaster was a coverup by the government trying to eradicate them

The village was closed off for 20 years after the disaster.

back

[whyrubuyingclothesatthesoupstore]

Just saw someone call shin and midori "doomed yaoi" and I think I'm gonna explode

What about Midori actively enjoying Shin's suffering and Shin being almost completely powerless to stop him is giving you doomed romance vibes.

Shin is doomed, sure, but Midori is just having a blast torturing people until he gets himself killed

"omg this canonically abusive inbalanced relation ship is sooo doomed yaoi" you are doomed to die in a car hammer explosion

[valleyfthdolls]

I love how trans people are never protected by Tumblr's anti hate speech/death threat policy. I reported a post that literally, very explicitly threatened to kill someone for being trans, going so far as to reference the murder of Nex Benedict and just got an email back saying that it doesn't violate any policies. Fucking car hammer explosion violates their death threat policy when a trans woman says it but people are allowed to come on here and make stimboards of trans people being stabbed to death and explicitly threaten to kill any trans person who crosses them while referencing that exact thing happening to a trans person who is in fact dead in real life and that doesn't violate any policy. and our useless cumsock of a ceo is over here trying with a fucking desperation to prove that he's not bigoted and actually the people he deletes deserve it and he treats hate speech and death threats very seriously and is so very very super very truly very super trans friendly. The so called queerest place on the internet when asked to stop letting people explicitly make tangible threats (much more so than I hope photomatt dies forever and hammers explode on him) to kill and celebrate the deaths of transgender people

[canadiancryptid]

It was one threat of many according to Matt, he picked a tame one, she deserved it because she has threatened other people in far worse ways before. She has been harassing people for months.

I don't claim to know what's going on with the whole situation, but:

He didn't pick a death threat to show. He picked a death WISH. There is a difference.

A death THREAT involves intent, or at least some level of plausible intent. Saying "I'm going to kill you" or "if you do X I'll end your life" would be a threat. You may not actually KNOW this person, but you're still saying you're going to kill them. THAT would be a threat.

A death WISH is simply stating "I wish that person would keel over and die." Its not saying you're going to do something to them, just that you hate them and want to see them dead. Its still not a great thing to say about someone, but its not an active threat. Even saying "I wish someone would kill this person" isn't really a threat; you're just expressing a wish to see this happen.

Anon, please tell me you don't read this as someone threatening to drive over to his house and run him over with a car covered in carpentry equipment with the intention of killing him in a loony tunes-style explosion of hammers. You can't tell me you think that is a genuine thing someone would try to do. I know if you're on tumblr your reading comprehension is probably terrible but please tell me you have enough of a brain to see this is not an actual threat.

I'm not gonna say she didn't send more serious threats to other people. I haven't seen any; I also haven't looked. But I'm fairly certain this specific example does NOT legally qualify as a genuine threat, which kinda puts his whole argument in jeopardy. If all the threats she sent were of a similar caliber... (which they probably WERE) then I don't think he can really claim they were real threats.

[zgenerationvisionary]

Old Bruises

By Océane Makangu, L1 English, Oral Practice, Paris-Nanterre University

“How could you?! I’ll kill you if you do that shit again! I let you talk to your son, to reconnect with him… and you beat him up…?!”

At some point, I could barely hear anything while the paramedics were treating me. I just wanted Mom to come pick me up; I never thought it would make Dad this angry. The doctor kept grimacing every time he found a new bruise on my body. Maybe it was because I had gotten into the habit of coloring them in with markers despite the pain —probably to hide them. It was better to suffer when the wound looked beautiful, right?

As soon as Dad saw that I had really called Mom using his phone, he hit me hard. A well-placed slap on my ears. It left me dazed for a few minutes, to the point where I was still slightly dizzy in the ambulance. I had been hearing a long, continuous ringing in my ear for the past hour. All I wanted was to go home with Mom and Papa Gaël.

Speaking of Papa Gaël, he held my hand the entire time during the medical examination, keeping a watchful eye on Mom outside as she screamed at Dad while the police interrogated him before taking him away. Sometimes, he turned to me with his usual comforting smile, the one which claimed that everything was going to be okay, that the world would soon go back to normal. He stroked my head from time to time. To remind me he was there, beside me. Not like Dad, who, from that day on, never really appeared in my world again.

The last time I saw him, we were all gathered in a big room, and Dad signed a paper. When I asked Mom what it was at the time, she told me it was “a contract that says Dad doesn’t want me anymore and that only Mom matters now.” Dad didn’t even look at me that day. He just said, “Goodbye.” That’s all Dad said before disappearing forever.

Today, I know my progenitor just… let go of my custody and fled his job. But I am not that mad anymore, if I did, it would mean that I care. I don’t want to care for him, not one bit. I do sometimes ask myself in my inner depth, when the sky is crow… “What did I lack for him to care about? Why can’t he love me?” Nonetheless, those thoughts don’t last long; and that’s because my siblings always randomly barge in my room, and I am struck deeply by this overwhelming feeling of belonging and love.

Yes, to this day Papa Gaël is still here, he is the dad who “stepped up” as they say. He just became Dad someday, I don’t remember when, but he does. He gave me a new life, a new support. He gave me a younger sister, a joyful and re-married Mom, a—

My feet run indecisively on the hot cement, the fire braising behind me while the wheels turned upside down the road, the alarms ripping the air everywhere. My eyes roll to every corner, not knowing where to focus as the world is spinning, leaving me behind its time… Until an arm pulls me back to sit my corpse down, examining me intently.

“Sir?!…… Can you hear me?!……Sir what happened?!…………. Who was behind the driving wheel?!…………….”

All words are so hard to understand as the throbbing in my head splatters to my whole body and soul. I feel like my heart is not pumping anymore. I breathe heavily as if someone hammered my rib cage, but that’s only until an explosion stabs the world and my mind finally finds back its purpose.

“… mom……. MOM?! DAD?! MAYA?!” My corpse becomes body again and dashes out of the ambulance, the million bodies before my eyes disappearing. I just want the only people who matter. Tears fall down my face, entering in contact with the still burning flesh of my left skin, but it won’t stop. I almost reach the flaming car when a pair of arms holds me back yet again. No no no no……. “We are sorry, son… We are truly sorry…” The voice mutters in my ears as it holds me down to life. At this very moment, I finally smell the scent of burning flesh… of living-taking gasoline… of cracking leather… the scent of my family ceasing… Of the mortal condition of my joy… 

Old Bruises

…Then, I lost everything and greet my father again after so long ago. Didn’t he promised to never appear again…? It must be a dream. I must be walking in a brain-dead fish reality. It has to be that. You will wake up, so wake up body… Please wake up… Give it back to me…

“Who are trying to fool, dumb-ass? You’re just a fucking weirdo.” I groan on the floor as the harsh reality is brought upon me, again. Dammit, I am a fool. I gaze at the bruise forming on my thigh. Dammit. I can’t even look up at them as they hit me continuously, without giving me the time to decipher anything. After some minutes, I didn’t feel anything anymore, I barely hear a thing and my vision is slow. I sigh as I stare at the ceiling, while I can hear the last bell ringing from afar.

I need to stand up. That man is waiting for me. I stumble my way out of the school, getting my clothes straight, not convincing anyone truly. But even if he knew about what was happening to me, he wouldn’t do shit. He will never care. I am hit by the sunlight as I make my way to the parking lot, people already fleeing away from this seemingly educational prison, strolling to my father’s car and getting in, no question asked. I just sit in the back as usual.

“You took your sweet time.” I don’t answer to that man, I don’t want to put an inch of his nose in my business. I just gaze out the window, my eyes drawing all the shapes I have learned to draw perfectly by now, just wanting to disappear, to vanish from this Earth. My sharpened nail slowly caress my arm, snaking under my pullover’s sleeve, the soft caress turning into another psychotic scratching, inaudibly raging on this scar which took away my blissful life and innocence.

Isn’t life unfair? People like my progenitor, Connor… and even I, get to live, but not the better people. How is life made? I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be breathing. I shouldn’t have escaped.

I feel my eyes get out of my body, my skin shrivels, my burns growing exponentially… I hide my arm, a flood forming at my feet. In… Out… Breathe in and out… Shut my eyes… “Everything will be okay” A smile adorned my lips. I hope for everything to be okay again…

“A dose of this shit and you’re out for the rest of the night… I’ll give it to you as a freebie because you’re my boy… but don’t overdo it it’s strong… Heard me, Jasper…? I am giving it to you to relax a bit… Aight… I need to go now…

We’ll catch on later, aight? Don’t die on me, boy…”

My eyes follow his back until his car left the neighborhood. I get inside my dump of a habitation and sit down on the couch.

My fingers scratch the never-healing scars on my burnt body, staring at the pack on the table.

I was never better than this. I was bound to this. It was my life. Falling more and more, yet the end never comes. How beautiful to know our place in the world… How insightful…

Yet, by finalizing the last touches of my argyle figurine, I understood something: I was moving on. I was finally moving forward. By big steps, then a fall back, but a trembling step forward again. Nonetheless, I am moving forward.

I hate this place, it’s solely repulsive… It solely reminds me that I am a lost cause for society. I am a simple product of my traumas. Yet, this figurine… It reminds me that I still have time left for me; that I can leave this world and be the better me.

“The wings are very well made.” I turn my attention to the young man next to me, who only pass the doors of this hell some days ago. His hands are still skittish… Mines have ceased their tantrum long ago now. Finally… “… I just… took my time, you know… No regrets that way…” I calmly respond him, observing the statuette embraced in my fingers. It did took me two whole years, but it probably was for the best.

Now, air passes in my lungs, then every vessel of my body to reach my brain easily…

I am almost there.

[lacontroller1991]

You’re Not “Bad” (Platonic!Chris Smith x Platonic!Reader | Rick Flag x Wife!Reader)

Main Master List

Author's Note: original idea by @mochminnie​ : reader is a super hero, can someone please write a Rick Flag x Reader? Set on the Peacemaker series.... what if he’s still alive and reader still has to work with peacemaker after he “killed” him. Reader happens to become close and gotten to know Peacemaker which reader and peacemaker have an enemies to friends relationship

Warnings: Language, crude humor, crude language, spoilers for season 1 of Peacemaker, torture, explosions, use of guns, medicine usage and side effects

“Un-fucking-believable!” You storm into the bedroom, your eyes burning with a furious fire causing Rick to sit up from his spot on the bed, eyeing you warily.

“Darlin?”

“That fucker lived.” That peaks Rick’s interest.

“Which fucker?” His heart hammers in his chest, causing him to grunt in pain. You quickly run to his side, holding out your hand and immediately soothing the ache. He gives you a faint smile as he takes your hand in his, slowly soothing you.

“Peacemaker.” Rick’s face falls, confusion, anger and pain storming in his hazel eyes as memories of Corto Maltese play in his mind.

“You’re shitting me.” You shake your head, pulling out a file and handing it to Rick. Despite Rick being able to escape the claws of Amanda Waller, you weren’t so lucky. Rick grabs the file and reads it over and over. “How the hell is he alive?”

“I don’t know. But when I see him, I’m going to make sure he’s not.”

“What do you mean see him?” You sigh, handing him another file, a classified file that he shouldn't be allowed to read. 

“We’re going to Washington.”

Not wanting to take a military plane across the country, you and Rick had managed to secure two tickets to Washington where you will be working for the next few weeks. Your eyes constantly flick over to Rick who sleeps peacefully beside you, the medicine knocking him out, as you read through the file again. You couldn’t believe the balls Waller had to assign you on a mission with the guy who almost killed your husband. 

Seemingly able to feel your frustration through his sleep, Rick’s head falls to your shoulder, his hair obscuring his eyes as he softly snores. Smiling, you press a kiss against the crown of his head and go back to reading. 

“Attention passengers, we’re beginning our final descent into Seattle. Weather is rainy with a temperature of 56 degrees. Thank you for choosing us to fly with today. Enjoy the rest of your flight.” You look out the window at the city below you. By the time you de-board, get a rental, drive an hour to Evergreen and check into the hotel, you know it’ll be late. You lightly shake Rick.

“Rick, baby. It’s time to wake up,” Rick stirs from his slumber as he looks at you with a sleepy look. 

“’ow much longer?” His voice is groggy and deep, the southern accent really prominent as he sits up, stretching his arms.

“Well, we still got about another 3 hours til you can go back to sleep.” Rick groans, pulling out his phone and scrolling through emails before pulling out a reservation for a car and a hotel. 

“Well, at least we have a hotel room to ourselves. We can do anything we want,” he wiggles his brows as you lightly punch him.

“Sure, baby. We can do whatever you want,” Rick’s smile widens as he puffs out his chest. Leaning over, he nips at your ear lobe.

“Whatever I want? I want to do you all night,” his comment sends heat flooding between your legs as you subconsciously squeeze your thighs, causing Rick to smirk at the affect he has on you. “Is that what you want?”

“Ricky, I have this mission. You’re only here for moral support.” He scoffs, leaning back in his seat and shutting his eyes again.

“’m here to make sure you don’t kill the bastard,” Rick grumbles as the plane begins to lower to the ground.

“It’s really tempting.”

----------

‘How’s it going?’ A text lights up your phone causing you to look down, instantly responding. 

‘Asshole hasn’t shown up yet.’ You hit reply and almost immediately get a response. The team looks at you.

“Something important, Flag?” Murn asks, as you shake your head, pocketing the phone.

“No sir, just asking Rick what he wants for dinner.” “You brought Colonel Flag here? Are you an idiot?” Harcourt hounds as you roll your eyes.

“No, but at the same time, I can't be a whole country away if something happens. Bringing him with me was the only safest option.”

“I don't see what the issue is, I brought my wife,” Adebayo shrugs as Economos spits out his drink causing the table to look at him. 

“Holy shit, is this dude seriously wearing his costume,” your head whips around and glowers at the man. How is it that he of all people lived and is doing seemingly just fine while your husband is stuck suffering? You sink into your seat and fiddle with your wedding ring, somewhat calming you down. 

“You wore your costume?” Murn asks as Peacemaker places his helmet on the table and it takes everything in you to not just grab it and bash his head in.

“I thought I was supposed to.” He looks down and notes your clenched jaw. “Who’s this and what’s up with her?” The team turns to you as you stand up, staring him in the eye. Before anyone could stop you, you wind back your fist and strike him hard across the jaw, causing Peacemaker’s head to whip to the side. You let out a huff and move to sit back down, sipping on your drink as Peacemaker cradles his jaw. “What the fuck?”

“That was for Rick.” His eyes widen as he looks to the others, they just shrug.

“Look, I didn’t want to kill him. He left me no choice. Waller tasked me with bringing back the drive no matter the cost. I did what I had to do to keep the peace.” You roll your eyes and cross your arms.

“For one, he isn’t dead. You failed. And two, I don’t give a shit about what Waller wants, for all I care, Waller could drop dead and I would rejoice.” Adebayo shoots you a side glare.

“Alright, everyone, just calm down. Smith, take a seat. Flag, if you’re going to have a problem, you might as well just leave now.” You scowl at Murn before sitting back, Christopher awkwardly taking a seat across from you.

“For what it’s worth, I truly am glad he lived. He’s an American hero.” 

“Unlike you.”

“Is that a fucking eagle in the back of your car?” Economos breaks the tension as you all turn around and see the eagle spreading its wings in the back seat.

“That’s Eagly. He’s my best friend.” 

“You’re best friend is a pet eagle?” Adebayo asks as Christopher nods.

“Jesus Christ.”

----------

“Well, how was it?” Rick greets you as soon as you walk through the door. You set down the bag of food before launching yourself onto the bed and letting out a groan. Rick eyes your bruised knuckles, gently taking it in his hands and inspecting it. “What happened?”

“Punched him. He deserves it,” you comment into the pillow as Rick gets up and grabs an icepack from the fridge, wrapping it around your knuckles before grabbing the food. He immediately dives in and scarfs the food down, moaning as the food moves down his throat. 

“This shit is so good,” you look at him, eyes dark and hair tousled as he offers a wolfish smile.

“’m glad you think so. I was too busy scowling to even taste half of it.” Rick offers you his bowl but you shake your head. “Nah, I’m just gonna head to bed.”

“Alright, I’ll join you after I finish.” By the time he gets in bed, you’re already passed out.

----------

The shrill ring of your phone stirs both you and Rick from your slumber as you blindly reach over, grabbing the phone and holding it up to your ear. “Flag... He did what? Are you- don’t answer that. Be there in 10.” You gently remove Rick’s arm before tossing back the cover as he lets out a whine, blindly seeking you out.

“Come back to bed.” “Pissmaker killed a fucking butterfly and now is surrounded by the police. Murn wants me and Adebayo to go get him.” Rick groans, rubbing his face.

“Are you serious?” You nod, rapidly getting dressed before rushing over to him and briefly kissing his lips. 

“I’ll be back baby.”

“Don’t do anything reckless,” Rick calls back before snuggling back into bed and falling back asleep.

----------

“Come on, get in!” You shout as Christopher jumps into the car, you quickly speeding away as Adebayo looks back.

“What the hell was that?”

“I met some chick at the bar, fucked her, and then she tried to kill me. Managed to kill her but I had to go back to get my uniform.”

“Are you serious?” She asks as he nods, you roll your eyes and continue driving away to the makeshift office.

“Yeah, also tied up a couple. The chick had a nice pair.” You slam on the breaks, causing Christopher to go flying between the front seats, hitting his head on the console.

“YOU DID WHAT?” He looks up to you almost guiltily as you pulled out your phone and dial Murn. “Murn, we got a problem.”

----------

“How can you be so reckless?”

“What was I supposed to do? Kill them?”

“Yes!” Harcourt exclaims as Murn shoots her a look before turning to Economos. 

“Do you think you can change the car registration?”

“Yeah, I can.” “Good, get on that,” Economos bows his head and types away on his computer as Murn rubs his brows before turning to you.

“Flag, don’t argue, just take Smith home.” You clench your jaw and nod, grabbing your keys and shoving past him.

“Let’s go.”

----------

The car ride is filled with tensions as Chris looks between you and the road, obviously wanting to say something. Giving in, you sigh and nod your head, letting him know that it’s okay to speak.

“I truly am glad he’s alive. It’s been eating at me for weeks now. I didn’t want to have to hurt him, but Ms. Waller asked me to bring back that device no matter the cost.”

“And how did that turn out?”

“Evidently not good.”

“Exactly,” your fist tightens around the wheel as he sighs, looking down at his helmet. “One thing you’ll learn, Pissmaker, Waller is evil. She’s using all of us for her fucking agenda.” “Then why aren’t you out?”

“I have to stay in. Despite Waller being a piece of shit, she pulled some strings to get Rick the necessary surgery he needs to live. She's been holding it over me ever since.” Chris nods, guilt crawling back to him. 

“Does he know?” You shake your head, paying attention to the road.

“No. He would tell me I should’ve let him die and leave instead of saving him. But I love him too much to do that. I can’t loose him,” you comment as Chris looks out the window.

“You know, before we went into Jotunheim, when we were on the roof top, he pulled out a picture of you and him and kissed it. I thought it was weird but I guess I understand,” heat blooms under your skin at the thought of Rick carrying a photo of him and you to his mission. “In fact, he had a couple girls come onto him at the club but he pushed them all away.”

“WHAT?” You turn your head to Chris as he nods his head.

“Yeah, he had like 6 chicks ask him to dance but he denied them.”

“Never told me that,” Christopher notes that you sound almost... hurt. Hurt that Rick would keep that from you.

“I’m sure he had his reasons.”

“Reasons from hiding that from his wife?” The assassin shrugs his shoulders as you pull into his trailer park and come to a stop. “Right, well. Be at the office by 9.”

“Got it, have a good night (Y/N).”

“Yeah, whatever.”

----------

“So, they want him to assassinate Goff and his family?” Rick asks you, looking up from his laptop.

“Yep. Only if the rest of the family is butterflies,” you strap a gun to your thigh as Rick sets his laptop aside and makes his way over to you, taking your face into his hands and kissing your lips tenderly.

“I love you, you know?” He speaks causing you to smile as you lean into his touch. 

“I love you too, Rick. I’d do anything for you.” He rests his head against yours as the two of you breath together in unison before he pulls back, adjusting the strap of your vest.

“Alright sweetheart, promise to be careful?”

“When am I not.”

----------

“Smith take the fucking shot,” Murn screams in your ear as well as Chris’s as he hesitates.

“Smith, what the fuck is your issue?”

“I can’t,” you barely hear him whisper before squinting your eyes.

“The hell do you mean?”

“I can’t take the fucking shot.”

“Give it to me,” you grab the gun out of his hands and readjust it but suddenly it’s kicked out of your grasp by a flash of green. “What the fuck?” You wipe your nose as you look at the shorter man who kicks Peacemaker back. 

“Fuck!” Christopher charges at the man only to be swept out from under his feet, landing harshly on his back. You jump onto the green man’s back and wrap an arm around his throat but he easily uses his force to throw you against the pillar.

“Shit,” you groan, falling to the floor as you spit out blood and grab a switchblade from your waist band. You watch as the smaller man hands Chris his ass and for a second, you let the larger man get his ass handed to him for what he did to Rick. You’re a team, help him. Rick’s voice echoes in your head as you roll your eyes and pounce on top of the two, ramming your blade into the green man’s side as he hollers in pain. Chris manages to wiggle out from underneath and grabs the man’s leg, hoisting him in the air only for him to easily maneuver mid air and land on his feet. 

“Bitches,” you and Chris look at each other before engaging the adversary in a fight.

“How the fuck is he so good?” Chris grunts as he takes another kick to the stomach while you throw punches only for them to easily be blocked.

“Now is not the time to be asking that,” the man sweeps your leg out from under you and lands an effective blow to your face, a darkness sweeping over you.

----------

When you wake up, your head pounds with the blood flow as you struggle to move. Looking up, you note that your feet are dangling above you and that the world is upside down.

“Good, now that you’re both awake. I’m going to ask you a couple of questions.  How do you know about us, how much do you know about us, and who sent you here?”

“Smith, say nothing,” you mumble out before your body convulses with electricity.

“You will tell me everything, or she’ll get much worse.”

“I can take it,” you reply only to let out a shout in pain as Goff tases you in your stomach.

“Do you really think she can take it? Is that a bet you’re willing to take?” Chris looks between you and Goff and swallows roughly.

“Do it. I don’t care. She means nothing to me.”

Goff nods his head. “Alright, you asked for it.” Your body tenses up as Goff continues to tase you. Your muscles ache in protest before your consciousness slips from you again.

----------

“Baby, wake up,” Rick gently shakes you awake, the sun creating a halo around his head as he checks you over. “Sweetheart, wake up for me.”

“(Y/N), wake up.” Your eyes shoot open as you look around the room. Once you note that you’re back at base, you let yourself fall back against the couch with a  groan.

“The fuck happened?”

“Well, after you passed out, we created an explosion, Smith managed to escape from his restraints and killed Goff.” You rub your temples as you try to sit up, Adebayo placing a firm hand on your back to help.

“I dreamt about Rick. He had a halo around his head. Is he ok? Is he alive?” Adebayo pulls out your phone from her pocket and shows you the screen, 5 missed calls and 20 texts, most of them asking if you’re ok. “Shit.”

“I’ll give you some privacy.” You nod at her in thanks before dialing Rick’s number. He immediately picks up.

“Baby? Are you alright? What happened? Where’ve you been? Do you need me to pick you up?”

“Rick, not so fast, please. Yeah, I’m fine. A little banged up but I’m fine.”

“What happened? Why didn't you answer any of my calls?” Hearing the worry in his voice, you smile softly at his concern, Christopher walking into the room.

“A lot happened. I was unconscious for most of it though, so I don’t know exactly all that happened.” Except the fact that you do know.

“You were what? That’s it, I’m coming to get you. Are you at base?”

“No, Rick. It’s fine. I can get an uber home or something. I don’t want you going out of your way.”

“Darlin’, I’ve been cooped up in this room. Let me come and get you.” You sigh, thinking for a moment.

“I don’t think that would be wise, honey. You’re not even supposed to know about any of this,” Chris eyes you from the side of the room as he tries his best not to listen.

“Alright, fine. Come home whenever then. Love you.” He hangs up the phone and you resist the urge to throw it across the room. Instead, you set it aside and bury your head in your hands.

“Everything okay?” Smith asks, cleaning his gun. You look up from your position and eye him.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” “Sounds like an asshole.” He remarks as you get up from the couch, wavering slightly before taking a seat next to the assassin.

“It’s the medicine. One of the side effects is easy annoyance or quick to aggression. Rick would never hurt me, but it does change the way he responds to certain comments.”

“Medicine for what?”

“Gee, Smith. I don’t know. One of the many medicines he has to take because of your righteousness.” He falls silent and you groan. “I’m sorry. That was rude. It’s just on nights like these I don’t want to be around him and it sets me on edge.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to stay here,” he snorts as you roll your eyes. 

“And face the wrath of Colonel Flag? No thanks.” You stand and grab your bag, moving to head toward the door before stopping in your tracks.

“Do you mind if you could give me a lift?” You know he probably wasn’t the best person to ask considering his history with your husband, but since Adebayo had left, he was the only option unless you wanted to pay for a ride. He nods quietly, setting the gun aside and grabbing some keys. 

“Sure. Let’s go.”

----------

“You were right to not have let whatever was gonna happen to me influence your decisions. That was good.” You comment, looking out the window as the green trees whip past you in a blur, thoughts running around in your head.

“I was tempted to. If you were a guy, it wouldn’t have mattered but since you’re a chick, that’s just wrong.”

You raise an eyebrow in question. “You’re saying women are weaker?” He snorts, looking over to you briefly before turning his concentration back on the road.

“Of course they are. Their bodies aren’t made like a man’s. Plus, what if you were pregnant? Wouldn’t the taser kill it?”

“It probably would, but Goff wouldn't have cared. No one would. Well, except Rick, but that’s because the baby would be his.”

“Have you ever thought about having kids?” “Why the fuck are you asking that?” “I don't know. Just conversation,” he shrugs as a silence falls over the two of you before he pulls up into the parking lot. Christopher looks over as notes the way your chest slightly hitches with your breathing. “Hey, are you good?” You look over to him, confused at the concern he's showing.

“Yeah. I just wanna go to sleep in his arms. Leave this whole day behind me,” you comment as Chris nods. “Well, thank you, Smith, for driving me.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem. When do I need to be in the office?” You scroll through your phone quickly before looking back to him.

“Be there at 12. We have a lot of things to go over,” you slip out of the car and into the cool night air. Holding the door open, you peek your head inside the car and take a deep breath. “And Smith.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not that bad.” You offer him a small smile before slamming the car door shut and running up the stairs, stopping in front of a door. 

From the driver’s seat, Chris watches as Rick opens the door and immediately pulls you into his arms, peppering kisses all over your exposed skin as you smile and laugh in glee, wrapping your own arms around Rick’s neck as the two of you engage in a passionate kiss. Chris adverts his gaze and slams on the gas, peeling out of the parking lot and leaving the two of your alone.

“What the hell was that about?” Rick asks between kisses, pulling you back into the room and slamming the door shut.

“Beats me. All I know is right now, I want you and I need you. Think you can make me forget everything?” Rick smiles wolfishly as he dips down and presses his lips to yours again, a hand landing on your ass.

“Yes ma’am, I do.” You smile back at him as he leads you to the bed, all thoughts about the coming days leaving you as soon as you fall back into his arms.

General Tag List: @marvelousmermaid​ @yelenas-lova​ @himbovillain-anon​ @babblydrabbly​ @a-reader-and-a-writer​ @fairchildflag​ @infatuatedjanes​ @niki-xie​

Joel Related Tag List: @aestheticallywinchester​ @loverhymeswith​ @xoxabs88xox​ @witchygagirl​ @t-i-n-y-d-i-n-o​ @the1redrose​ @ratcatcher2world​ @green-socks​ @heart-0n-fire​ @weallhaveadestiny​ @yourjacketisnowdry​ @rachelh1992​ @a-girl-who-loves-disney​ @tompetersebbuckyhazleo​ @knivesareout​ @bubblegloopswampwitch​ @waspswidows​ @burntghoost​ @mattymurdocksbitch​ @katjnordstrom96​ @bb-skyrunner​ @11thstreetvigilante​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @madkovacs​ @klmurr​ @heresathreebee​

[reidsmemory]

Echo

Spencer Reid

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Y/N is abducted while working a case and the team has to find her before it’s too late.

Genre: Fluff with a touch of angst

Warnings: Mention of death of minor character, torture

not my gif!

The team had been looking into case that had targeted girls with Y/H/C hair and Y/E/C eyes. All had looks strikingly similar to you and if anyone were to see either one of the victims in a room with you, they would say you were related. You all had been on the case for about a week now and you were still no where close to catching this guy. 

     “Agent Y/L/N,” a voice called as you whipped your head to face them, “these came in for you,” the officer was holding a bouquet of red roses with a small white card on the top of it. 

      “Do you know who these are from?” you asked as he shook his head and walked away. 

      “What does the note say?” Emily asked as the whole team had watched the interaction. 

     You opened the envelope and read the note as you furrowed your brows, “echo.” The team looked at each other with puzzled faces, “what the hell is that suppose to mean? Have we already dealt with this unsub?” The rest of team began theorizing as the same officer walked up to you again.

     “Agent, we’ve got someone that say he needs to speak to you.”

      “Can’t they come here?” Hotch asked, getting defensive.

      “He says that he won’t go into a place of justice, whatever that means,” the officer began to lead you as the rest of the team followed. You began walking towards the entrance of the station as the officer looked around for the mystery man. “He was just here,” the man spoke. 

      “Spence,” you spoke out as your boyfriend looked to you before you collapsed on the ground. You head hit the flooring as a ringing sounded in your ears as well as their being two of everything. Two Spencer’s holding your head, two Hotch’s yelling and pointing fingers, two lights blinding you from seeing anything. 

     What felt like hours later you were being lifted onto a bed. Two men had arrived with an ambulance as shouting and yelling was all that was heard. “Are you family, sir?” the first responder asked as Spencer opened him mouth and closed it again, “I didn’t think so, you all can follow in cars.” The man said as his colleague gave him as weird look as the both of them lifted you into the ambulance as the rest of the team rushed to get their keys and get into the SUVs.

     The ambulance sped off as the sirens wailed and your team rushed to the cars. “What in the fresh hell?” Derek said as he looked at the tires on one of the SUVs. “My tires are popped, what about you, Hotch?” 

     “Same here,” the raven haired man said. 

     “It’s a set up,” Reid spoke as fear flooded his face. 

***

     You awoke in a cabin where you had been tired to a chair and had a gag on your mouth. Your vision still hazy and your thoughts even hazier. 

     “Oh good, you’re up,” a male voice said from the corner of the room. You tried to get a good look at him, but he stayed in the shadows. “Ben Cyrus,” he said as you furrowed your eyebrows. The name sounded so familiar, but you couldn’t quite remember where you had heard it before. 

      “Who are you?” you asked as the man chuckled. “Let me go, I’ll talk to my team and we can work this out.” He scoffed at your words and began to walk towards you. 

     “Ben Cyrus. He ran the greatest church known to man and you,” his face was hardened and his eyes had a crazed look in them, “took away our faith!” He struck his hand across your face as a burning sensation filled your cheek. 

     It all rushed back to you. A few year back you, Prentiss, and Reid had all gone undercover in a cult-like church. The leader, Benjamin Cyrus, had been suspected of child abuse and sexual harassment and the government had wanted the BAU to get involved. 

     “I remember,” you said as the man smiled. 

     “Good, Agent,” he grabbed a chair from the side of the room and brought it over to sit across from you. “Now,” he started again, “you might not know me. My name is Joey Cyrus and I would say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but I’d be lyin’,” he studied you as you did the same.

     “What do you want, Joey?” 

     “Well my daddy would be nice for one, but I don’t believe you have the power to do that. So you’ll do just fine,” he got up from his chair and walked over to the bag that you had seen from the corner of your eye. He dumped the contents on the ground in front of you and a spill of tools came out. A hammer, pliers, a baseball bat, a few knives, and other things that could do damage. “Let’s get to know each other.”

***

     Back at the station, Spencer was frantically trying to figure out who had taken you and why. The note on the roses had been laced with a medicinal herb that had knocked you out and the ambulance had been found in a ditch on the highway with all but one of the first responders on it. The medics had been killed in a brutal way that even made Spencer sick to his stomach as he thought about what this guy was doing to you.

     “Reid,” Hotch’s voice broke his train of thought as he met eyes with the older man. “Go ahead, Garcia.”

     “Alright. Our mystery medic is Joseph Mulgrew , he moved to Utah just a few years ago and before that he has been off the map,” Garcia told the team. “This guy, he’s like a ghost. No records of his name anywhere else and no former address of any kind.”

     “Did you say Mulgrew?” Spencer said as the team looked at him.

     “Yes I did Doctor, what about it?”

     “Look up Joseph Cyrus,” Spencer told her as they heard the taps of Garcia’s keyboard. The team looked at him for an explanation, “Benjamin Cyrus, he was an unsub we had.”

     “Yeah,” Emily started, “he was that guy that ran that church and...” she trailed off as the team got the gist of what she was saying. 

     “He was Charles Mulgrew before he made a come back at the church. It could be possible that he has unknown family, considering what he was really doing all those years,” Spencer explained, “Garcia, how old is Joseph?” 

     “He is 27 years of age and the good doctor is right. Joey here changed his name like dear old dad and oh...” Penny trailed off.

     “Penny?” JJ asked.

     “Joseph has been in and out of jail and juvie for as long as I can see. Charged with assault, petty theft, and oh my. Domestic abuse filed by his ex-wife who looks a lot like our Y/N,” a sounding on their tablets was heard as they opened it and saw a woman very similar to you.

     “But Spencer and I went undercover too, why would he pick Y/N?” Emily said as she immediately started to solve the puzzle, “you think it’s because of the looks of the ex-wife?”

     “I think so,” Rossi mumbled, “Penelope pull up the most current address to Joe and anything that could be used to store Y/N.”

     “I’ve got a home address and a storage unit and they have all been sent to your phones! Go crime fighters and get our princess back!” Penelope told them.

     “Thanks, Baby Girl,” Morgan hung up the phone.

     “Reid with me and JJ. Rossi, Morgan, and Prentiss take the storage. We’ll have to use squad cars until the SUVs are fixed so lets go get Y/L/N,” Hotch ordered as they all nodded ad went to the parking lot. 

***

     You muffled your screams and grunts as Joey had began to carve into your stomach. He laughed as you clenched your teeth and held your hands in fists, surely four crescent shaped cuts were to be found on the inside of your palms if you opened them. “You son of a bitch,” you struggled to get out as Joey wiped the knife off on your pants. 

     “Don’t you talk about my mama that way, girl. I’ll make sure you regret it.” You received at blow to the side of your face. You spit out the blood that formed in your mouth as Joey began to take the other tools out from his collection. “These look nice, don’t they, girl?” He held up a pack of cigarettes and a lighter as he popped one in his mouth.

     “Those things kill,” you said remembering Spencer tell you countless facts about the ‘cancer sticks’ as both of you had nicknamed them. “On second thought, why don’t you just keep smoking them.”

     He laughed, “you are a firecracker. My daddy always said the young ones are.” He stroked your hair as you tried to move back.

     “Your dad was sick in the head and you are too,” you spoke with such tenacity. 

     He looked at you blankly, “I thought I said you don’t speak of my family like that,” he took the cigarette from his mouth and stuck it on your exposed collar bone. 

     You grunted as he held your face in free hand. He leaned into your ear and whispered, “I want to hear those screams, girl.” He press the cigarette into your skin further, finally inciting a small scream to slip past your lips. “Good.”

***

     The team had arrived at both locations and there was no sign that you were there. Spencer paced around with his hands in is hair as the rest of the team was now even more worried than before, if that was possible. The team had no idea where you could be and if you were even alive. It had been at least 13 hours since you had dropped in the lobby and it was eating Spencer and the team alive.

     “You have nothing?” JJ asked Garcia over the phone,.

     “No, i’m sorry. I’ll keep looking and-” she was cut off by Spencer who had just had a revelation. 

     “Garcia, make sure the jet is ready. I think I know where Y/N is.”

***

     On the jet Spencer had explained the note and how it read ‘echo’ as saying that Joey might want to recreate the explosion at the church and now the team had touched down in Colorado where they got in SUVs to go to the church’s location. 

     A swat team followed them along the dirt roads that were bumpy and the night sky that was dark. The sun was starting to rise in the distance. Spencer remembered you always saying, ‘the same beams but a new day,’ and that made him the tiniest bit hopeful that they would find you in this new day. 

     The church came into view as they could see it was now a smaller wooden building. “What the hell,” Morgan said from the drivers seat as he say the building, “this guy built up a whole new structure to what? Avenge his father’s death?” The car came to a stop as the team hopped out of the car and Hotch began to go over the plan with the others.

     “From the front-” he was cut off by a ear piercing scream that came from no one other than you. Spencer looked at his boss in worry as Hotch returned the look and started again, “let’s go.”

     Joey drove a knife into your stomach as you screamed loudly. He left it in your body and quickly grabbed another knife from the ground. “You have got to work out your daddy issues another way,” you told him as he dragged the new knife down the side of your face as it cut into your skin. 

     “You wanna try something different, girl?” You immediately regretted your words and recalled Spence always telling you that your smart mouth was going to get you in trouble some day. He began to unbutton the top of his flannel, but quickly stopped as he heard footsteps in the distance. You heard them too. 

      “Spencer!” you yelled as loud as you could as Joey came over to you and cut the ropes on your ankles and arms as he quickly grabbed you and put a knife to your neck. 

      From the front of the house Spencer could hear your cries as his ears perked up as his heart rate grew faster and Hotch nodded as Morgan kicked the door down. The team moved through the structure and finally Spencer came face to face with you, “Y/N,” he said as you locked eyes with your boyfriend and smiled lightly, despite the situation at hand. 

     “Joseph, put the knife down,” Hotch told the man as the knife just dug deeper into your skin. 

     “I don’t think so,” he took grip on you and made it tighter. “You killed my family. He never did anything but help people in need of his guidance.”

     “Your father ruined the lives of young girls,” Spencer said matter-o-factly. 

     “No! He did them a favor, he gave them the greatest gift he could,” Joey said as he began to move his hand without the knife a bit more. You furrowed your eyebrows as you tried see what he was hold and finally saw a small remote concealed in his hand. 

     You moved your eyes to Hotch’s and blinked rapidly. You just hoped he would pick up on the Morse Code and get everyone out of the building. 

     “Let’s just talk this out, Joey,” Hotch started, “JJ get everyone out, I want to talk to Joey alone.” JJ furrowed her eyebrows at the man but he gave he a stern look as she understood and began to move the team out. 

     “No! Bring them back!” Joey yelled, “or she dies.” Spencer looked at JJ as she tried to get him to leave the building, but he refused to move so she quickly called Morgan who grabbed Reid as he struggled against him.

     “I can’t leave her!” he told them and Morgan ignored his pleas and called a couple SWAT members to help him with the genius. 

     “As much as I like her, I’ll do it,” Joey said as he continued to watch the men and women exist the building. “Bring them back!” Joey yelled as his grip on you faltered for a second which you took advantage of as you got out from his grasp and struggled to take the device from his hand. 

     “Go!” you yelled at Hotch but he jumped in and started to help you as the three of you wrestled and quickly the device was flung across the doorway to another room. You all freezed before you grabbed Hotch’s hand and dragged him towards the back of the building. 

     The team waited outside for Hotch and you as Reid screamed at Morgan, “you have to let me go back in there!”

     “You can’t Kid, you heard Hotch!” Morgan yelled back as the rest of the team cringed at the fight. “I know all of us want to go back in there, but we can’t! You gotta understand that, Kid!”

     “No! You don’t understand!” Spencer screamed, “she’s all I have! I didn’t even get to tell her that I love her! That I have been in love with her since that stupid dinner at that Thai restaurant in California!” 

     “That was two years ago...” JJ mumbled.

     “Yeah! Two years! I’ve only been with with her for a couple months now and I haven’t even told her!” Everyone’s hearts pained as they heard Spencer’s cries and saw the liquid that dripped down his cheeks. “I can’t-”

     All head turned as the house exploded a safe distance away from them. The orange flames roared as the team had their mouths’ open in shock.

     “No,” Rossi and JJ whispered at the same time. 

     Morgan’s grip on Reid was gone as he watched the flames and turned to Emily who had had disbelief and horror over her face. 

     Spencer’s mind raced a mile every second and now his mind was completely blank of everything but you. Your face, your smile, your eyes, your lips, your laugh, your touch, your everything. Spencer ran towards the flames as the team yelled after him. 

     “Spencer,” JJ’s voice breaking as she leaned into Rossi’s embrace. 

     “Kid. Come on, don’t do this,” Morgan called as Emily just watched in disbelief with a gaping mouth and teary eyes.

     Spencer didn’t care about their calls, he needed to find you. He scanned the firery rubble for any sign of you or Hotch, but there wasn’t any. Just ash and fallen wood covered in sweltering heat. “Y/N!” he yelled out, “Y/N! Hotch!” Spence continued to look through the wall of intense heat and for a second he saw a delicate hand reach up through the burning wood. “Y/N,” he whispered to himself as he began to walk through the blazing fire that threatened to burn his body and ruin his lungs. 

     He moved a piece of wood off of where he saw your hand and saw you and Hotch laying side by side. “Guys!” he screamed at his friends, “help!” The team gave each other confused faces before coming over to Spencer. JJ gasped as she saw your form next to Hotch’s as tears of joy spilled from her faces. Her and Emily joined hands as they worked to get the wood off of you. 

     “Medic!” Rossi yelled as people began to rush over to help. 

     Morgan and Reid worked to get a big piece of debris off of the two of you. Hotch’s eyes opened and he immediately looked to his side where you had been, holding his hand tightly. He coughed violently as the medics lifted him up and brought him to the ambulance. You blinked a few times and saw Spencer standing over you. 

     “Hey, can you hear me?” he asked as you gave him a thumbs up and he laughed at the simple gesture. He brought you up for and embrace as you struggled to keep your eyes open. The medic came over to you and began to carry you away as Spencer and the team followed you and Hotch to the ambulance. 

      “Can I?” he asked one of the nurses as she nodded and he climbed into the ambulance and held your hand as you drifted off to sleep.

***

     When you woke up, blinding lights had been the first thing you saw. The second was Spencer who was asleep in a chair next to your bed, his head resting on the bed and his fingers interlaced with your own. You blinked a few times and saw the rest of the team in the room with you. Hotch was in bed identical to yours, but he was up and had his eye focused on the TV in front of him. By his side was JJ and Morgan as the conversed with each other in hushed voices. Penny was writing in a card with a sparkling pink pen as she handed it off to Rossi who smiled lightly at her. Emily was just outside your room as you saw her talking with a nurse or doctor; rather it looked more like arguing.

     Derek glanced over to you briefly as he then turned back to JJ and then back to you. “You’re up,” he said quietly, a contrast to his usual booming voice. Everyone looked to you as you smiled.

     “You gave us quite a scare, Y/L/N,” Hotch said as you laughed quietly which then turned into a cough. 

     “Em! Get a nurse or doctor!” Penny exclaimed as Emily rushed and called a nurse in the hallway. JJ got up from her seat and made her way over to your bed.

     She examined your face before hugging you tightly. “God, you can never do that to us again,” she chuckled as you rubbed her back. You felt a few tears fall on your shoulders as JJ pulled away and wiped her cheeks. “He’ll be happy to see you,” she gestured to Spencer.

     “Glad to have you back, kiddo,” Rossi told you with a smile, “you need anything?” As soon as he said that a doctor walked into your room and started to go over your condition.

     “You are very lucky, Agent Y/L/N” she started, “you have a mild concussion and that wound on your abdomen will take some time to heal over. You received first and second degree burns all over your legs, arms, and torso, just like Agent Hotchner. Your eardrums are very fragile and I recommend no flying for at least 3 weeks. Your face has some minor bruising and cuts that should heal over time.” She set her chart down. “The both of you should be able to leave in a few days time, but for now just relax.”

     “Thank you,” you said as she smiled.

     “Dinner will be up in a few minutes,” with that she left and Morgan was seen grinning widely. 

     “What?” you said.

     “She didn’t mention one thing.” You furrowed your brows at his words and he started to rub his head which just made you more confused.

     “I have a concussion, you’re going to have to actually say it.” He laughed at your words.

     “Do you think pretty boy will like the new haircut?” he asked as it finally clicked and you ran your fingers through your hair. 

     “Oh my, God,” you said as everyone laughed. “Oh my, God!” you repeated as Emily handed you a mirror and as you brought it up to your face your jaw dropped. Your hair was cut in jagged parts, but none shorter than your chin. The team laughed as you continued to gape at your reflection.

     “Some of your hair ended up burning off, just a bit,” Emily said as you looked at her with wide eyes. She laughed as you began to laugh too and soon everyone joined in as you all smiled at your stupidly, funny haircut.

     Spencer rubbed his eyes as he saw your smiling face and immediately hugged you tightly. “Thank Goodness,” he whispered as he pulled back from the embrace. “Why are we laughing?” he asked as you gestured towards your hair and smiled widely at the tall man.

     “Is this gonna be a deal breaker, babe?” his cheeks flushed at the nickname.

     He laughed a bit, “no, I still love you,” he said as the team froze at what he said as did he.

     “Awh, I love you more, Spence,” you told him without skipping a beat as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

     “Even if you do kinda look like David Bowie,” he said as you opened your mouth and smacked his arm playfully.

     “Spencer Reid!”

[katsukikitten]

Part 10 of Irritated. Y'all thank Jo for this being updated lol.

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️ This is an 18+ Pro Hero AU, mentions of violence and death. Enjoy

The pungent smell of wet Earth and nose burning chemicals did not pair well with the harsh scent of rotting fruit. Sickeningly sweet as it rouses you, mind hazed as your eyelids refuse to open or even flutter. Weighted by lead and an endless sleep that tries to pull you under again. For once you submit.

More time passes, although you aren’t even sure you understand the concept any longer as that same smell stirs you again, a bang from an adjacent room pushes your eyes to flutter. Flashes of light against the start darkness before your eyes adjust to the low light of the room that seeps in from a few small rectangular windows. The panes are caked with dust while bricks are pressed into the seedy Earth, giving the room a natural coolness, there is only one set of stairs that lead up towards a door outlined in light. The sound of running water makes your throat constrict and your mouth dry, as if you swallowed cotton whole. Making you wonder just how long you had been pulled undertow. It takes your throbbing head a moment to catch up with your senses as a chill settles over your bare skin in goose flesh.

And then it all comes flooding back, the awful taste of his salty skin in your mouth, the fear gripping at your muscles as you finally realize that you are not in the safety of your apartment but somewhere forgein. Thrashing to get to your feet only to hit hard onto the icy concrete, wrists and ankles bound by white cuffs, a small whine escapes your raw throat. Your heart hammers in your chest before you feel a sharp prick in both of your wrists. A warm substance floods your system as your eyelids become heavy, mind trudging through abduction procedures before settling on blissful numb. A blurry figure comes from the only other door in the room that isn’t atop the staircase. You don’t need to fully focus on his face to know exactly what color his eyes are as they burn into your retinas before sleep hushes your frayed nerves. You dream of all consuming green that slowly fades to black.

Bakugou finds himself standing in the kitchen of his apartment, your spare key stares up at him from your paperwork. A sweating glass with melting ice and the reminisce of an amber liquid is his only company. He leers down at the address, wondering why the hell you were on such a seedy side of town, then he thinks of you shaking on the couch back at the hotel during the convention. His stomach churns, your final words and blow cause him to suck his teeth.

“Not my fucking problem.” He huffs to himself, refilling the glass before killing the light in the kitchen to settle on the couch. His grip is too tight on the crystal glass in his explosive palm, the glass threatens to shatter while an infomercial plays in the background. His mind is anywhere but the TV while indestructible pans are advertised across the large screen. Aggressively swirling the amber liquid as his thoughts become more and more loud. He swallows the whisky whole and with it the thought of you. Letting it all burn as it runs down his throat and heats his chest, a warm feeling flooding his veins as he sinks lower into the couch. Flipping channels as he forgets you.

Your key taped to your personal records, that Bakugou stole, do not sit on his fine counter much longer, soon it is swiped and shoved into a pocket. He slams the crystal glass on the counter as he reaches for his own apartment keys and his cellphone. Bakgou slams his apartment door, locking the deadbolt before he rushes down the stairs to catch the last train to you hellish part of the city.

The hour train ride sobers Bakugou and only sets him into further agitation. Glaring at anyone who thinks to look at him more than once, even going as far as baring his teeth. Before glaring at his own reflection, who sneers right back. His black tee is tight and a bit damp despite the cool air, the brim of his backwards cap pulls the hair away from his forehead as his faded sides breathe in the chill of the train. The hat, an excuse to hold in his hair, his hero gloves heating his hands as his fingers twitch, he hopes your apartment is hardwood throughout since he didn't have plastic bags to put his feet in while he looked for something. Anything. He was doing the best with what he had.

But the more he looks at himself the more he realizes he never really was doing his best. At least not when it came to you.

The address to your apartment complex is a few blocks away from the train station, his jaw clenched as he reaches the low lit building. Screaming comes from somewhere far off, his ears perk out of habit, but he was supposed to be off duty right now. Plus that wasn’t his current focus, not to mention should he help it would be suspicious as fuck as to why he was so far way from home tonight. He bounds up the stairs in the dank stairwell two at a time, huffing through his nose as he reaches the top floor. The carpet is worn threadbare and reeks of vomit and water damage. Silence envelopes the top floor compared to the yelling and crashing items on his way up. Slowly it dawns on him that you’re most likely renting out the entire fucking floor. He sucks his teeth, leaning in close to the door of the first apartment on the floor. Nothing comes from the other side of the thin cheap door, musty air flows from between the cracks as if the room had been closed for quite some time. It confirms what he’s been thinking. He finds your apartment door with ease, several bolts and locks lined up perfectly straight. He looks down at the one key and thinks about what happened in the short few years you started at the agency that you would need five, no six additional deadbolts on your door. He half wishes you hadn't made it so obvious as to which door was yours, thoughts creep into the forefront of his mind as he imagines someone else standing in his spot now. He thinks he will need a locksmith, but that would call attention to himself, he could attempt to pick them but he never really had time to practice the shady skill. Just as he is about to turn to brute force as the answer he notices that your door doesn't seem fully shut. He thinks of all the times that you bitched while on patrol about your damn door and how you had to literally slam it shut for it to actually lock. Gritting his teeth he gently pushes the door open with his gloved hand letting it swing open with an eerie creak.

Already things are out of place. Your suitcase stands alone, untouched and obviously unpacked from the clothes peeking out from beneath the zipper, by the front door. Your lanyard for your keys is on the floor instead of the table that is in the foyer and the converse you were wearing the day that you quit are missing. Faintly something gleems in the grainy light from the hallway from beneath the table in the foyer. Bakugou reaches for it tentatively, teeth gritting as he realizes what the glass rectangle is.

Your phone.

Specifically, your dead phone.

His hand hover over the unresponsive screen before deciding to leave it, this would be evidence they would need later but for now he knew he had to do something. Kamisama takes pity on the poor bastard and throws him a bone in the shape of a scrunchie. Your black scrunchie that seems to have been ripped from your arm. As he reaches for it he notices the faint residue smeared on the hardwood. His mind dredges up weeks ago of the guy trying to hide his quirk. Of the carpet by the hotel door in the hall just a touch darker.

He should have fucking killed him, he should not have listened to you. He snatches the scrunchie, heading towards your kitchen to look for a bag, tupperware, anything to trap the smell of you and possibly your assailant. He finds a plastic sandwich bag, shoving the broken hair tie into the baggie before sealing it shut. He heads for your door thinking better of slamming it shut in case he needs to return without the calvary. Pulling his phone from his pocket he dials an old number from memory, the other line picks up.

"Oi, it's time I cashed in on that favor you owe me."

After the short conversation and the long hour and a half in the cold a four door sudan pulls up to the train station by your house. Bakugou eagerly yanks open passenger side door, slamming it shut as he cranks of the heat in the car, giving the driver no room for questions let alone a greeting.

"Oi, I need you to find the owner of this." He flashes the scrunchie as the driver gives him a look, "Inu, you're hound's son aren't you? It's not impossible."

"It might as well be dude. What is this?" Inu snatches the bag from hot fingers, "Do you even know when the last time the owner wore this. And what exactly are we doing? Is this even fucking official?"

Bakugou narrows his eyes, mouth set in a harsh snarl as he leans in close to the driver's seat while Inu leans back.

"I dunno was your shit I helped you with official? Was it ethical for us to take out a mob boss for your now ex wife?"

Inu looks away into the rear view mirror, eyes boring holes into the glass and the blankets in the back seat. Bakugou doesn't notice, he takes it as admission before leaning away into the passenger seat.

"Now get to sniffing." Inu grits his teeth at the hot head's comments before sighing out. Opening the bag just a little to take a whiff. The smell was faint, indicating a large gap from the time it was last worn to now. Not to mention there was an odd smell, so unbelievably faint in the fabric that had Inu not already known what you smelt like he would have missed it. Just barely he could make out past the notes of your shampoo a salty harsh smell, almost like a preservative. Had it been any stronger it would have burned his nostrils. Sweat and...was that formaldehyde?

His stomach churns, slowly closing the baggie before cracking his window, catching the wind just right. He follows his nose, head halfway out the window as the car carries the men late into the night, all the way to the fringes of a suburb that was partly in the country. Inu parks the car on the wide street of the little neighborhood built to mimic an American suburb in the nineties. Homes of various sizes spread out and yet not too far from one another.

"This is it." Inu announces, throwing the car in park as it sits nestled between a beat to hell pick up truck and a dented sudan.

"You're sure?" Bakugou asks as he takes in the old home, it's upkeep is minimal at best, landscaping border line over grown as he can barely make out the small rectangular windows at the base of the house beneath the old dim street lamp.

"This is where both smells get stronger."

"Both?" A tic wounds tighter in Bakugou's jaw while a tremor runs through his arms. Inu nods as Bakugou reaches for the knob.

"Woah, woah!" Inu's large hand clamps down onto a broad shoulder, "Hold up man, if she really is involved then this is nothing like the sting we did bro. We need to call someone."

"Like fucking who?"

"I dunno Director Yami?"

"Yea so he can dismiss this again? Fuck that and fuck you. I'm going." He shoves Inu away reaching for the door again before the blankets in the back seat come to life. A mop of emerald curls with concern plastered across the giant's face appears to Bakugou's horror.

"Kaachan...you can't. We need to do this right, for her." And with that Bakugou snaps, lunging for his old friend, enemy. Climbing past the center console with his hands outstretched before they wrap around a thick column squeezing with all of his might. Deku doesn't do much to stop him, somehow knowing deep down that it isn't really him that the red eyed man wants to kill. He wraps broad hands around thick forearms giving them a gentle squeeze, he could snap them with One for All if he wanted. Instead Inu barks out a breathy "What the fuck?" as he wraps his arms around Bakugou's torso pulling him back into the passenger's seat. In the tussle either Bakugou or Inu hit the horn, causing Inu to panic as a light comes to life in the once darkened house. He forcefully shoves Bakugou into the front seat as he peels into the street, thankfully without burning rubber.

"Are you trying to blow our fucking cover?!" Inu shouts, "Like fuck! And what's killing Izuku-kun going to do?"

Bakugou turns to glare at the behemoth of a man in the back seat, he rubs his throat as red eyes watch bruises form.

"I'm not sorry Deku, fuck you." But Izuku can read between the lines, Bakugou saying he is sorry but still fuck you for trying to stop me while our friend is most likely on borrowed time.

"'S kay. We can help her."

A honk, rouses you before footsteps can be heard overhead rushing through the house before blinding light floods down into the basement.

"Finally you're awake." He flicks on all the lights, scrambling to put your feet under you so you can at least sit. Eyes flickering over the room as you try to give your throbbing, unresponsive mind to collect something, anything you can store away for later to aid your escape. Meanwhile the green eyed fucker monologues.

"It took some time for me to adjust your dose, I need you to be just under enough that you won't fight back, your heart rate spikes easily you know…." His words are lost to you as you glance over your shoulder only to wish you never did as your stomach churns in horror. Lined up against the wall behind you are women, women you had posed with.

But what haunts you is how it starts with your missing friend. Her eyes hollowed out, pitch black holes stare back at you as her skin looks paper thin, like a botched mummification or that whoever was trying to preserve her got lucky. She is still in her last scene clothes that are bloodied and torn. Your eyes struggling to follow the line as they progressively become more and more preserved, until your eyes finally land on your last instagram picture, you and that young girl. With the peace signs beneath your eyes.

She looks to still be alive, until you realize she is unblinking with glass eyes and a permanent smile with the help of a stich or two.

He notices your rigidness and frowns.

"Are you not happy? It's hard to save the eyes." He forces your face to meet him with his fingers on your skin, "I made them for you. They're your friends right? I wouldn't want my doll to be lonely."

Your breath comes in ragged huffs as rage consumes you, you were going to kill him. With whatever little power you had left, you were going to end him and savor it.

All these lives, twenty, that you could see, lost, because of you and you negligence. Your eyes glow before a prick comes at your wrist, the power dying in your fingers.

"No." You rasp out as your vision begins to fade.

"Ah come on, I just want you to be a wake for just a bit doll. Just a while longer before I make you mine."

Your world plunges into the depths of darkness.

Your dream of the girls behind you, of their scream as their preserved bodies animate, their glass eyes fixated on you as they crawl across the concrete. Their mouths smelling of formatihide and rot as they lean close to you, voices beneath water or worn by gravel.

"You did this. You killed us."

[sukiglycerin]

yours, senpai || katsuki bakugou.

* pairing: pro-hero!katsuki bakugou x manager!reader (gender neutral!)

* genre: kind of,,, angsty not really, fluff

* words: 1,884

* warnings: all i can say is sorry shouto, usage of sEnpAi (used for upperclassmen) and kOuhAi (used for underclassmen), i keep doing manager!reader nd bakugou, reader has a bad day, cussing, bakugou being soft

* original request:  okay so i’ve seen so many bakugou fics about him getting jealous but I remember having an idea to write about the reader getting jealous over bakugo for something so little because of them having a rough day i don’t really have the time to write it but if you get around to it and actually wanna write it i’d definitely give it a read

* a/n: this is finally here! i’m really happy with how it turned out. ngl, this was almost named “y/n and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day” but be glad i didn’t LKDSLFSL there will be a second part to this that’s just,,, pwp for fem!reader. so, look forward to that next week! @toishi is the best for proofreading this~~

bakugou always had girls over him. it was just a thing, a norm, that had come to be as a pro-hero. that didn't make you like it more, or anything, but you had to accept it. you knew it would never really change; even in your high school days, the kouhai named bakugou would be the talk of the girls in your year, fawning over his smooth skin and rugged look. (it was as though they'd completely forgotten the sports festival in your second year.) you never understood the appeal; to you, a third-year in the business course, bakugou was just an immature hero-wannabe, one of the boys that came a dime a dozen in japan. heck, this was a hero school; you were surrounded by them.

your first interaction with bakugou was in your third year. you'd been partnered up with a hero course student as a project, learning the ins and outs of marketing to a hero's strengths and managing said hero. girls absolutely ogled you for being partnered up with the bakugou, but you found it slightly revolting. to idolize a second year, a kouhai, who had anger issues and a terrible fashion sense? you did not see the appeal. if anything, you were concerned about how to contain the explosiveness of his personality and package it into a pretty looking present. his face constantly made the crudest of expressions, and the words that fell from his lips were completely vulgar. 

after the project, your perspective of bakugou slightly changed; his face wasn't always unpleasant to look at (typically when he was off-guard) and his personality had softened a bit. he, at least, had the decency to call you senpai; according to a rumour from your friend, class 2a's infamous pretty boy, shouto todoroki, spoke quite plainly. too plainly. it was like he had a bone to pick with every upperclassman he talked to, not bothering to use the proper honorifics and talking shit when upset (the latter, though, wasn't confirmed by your friend, you'd just heard it around).

you kept in touch with bakugou, and the honorifics never really dropped, even though you'd told him it was fine to speak casually. you'd both graduated from high school, thus bakugou became a pro-hero and you started an office job at a hero agency. you worked your way up through the company, though it was an incredibly slow process due to the sheer size of it. it was then bakugou offered you a position at his agency; as his manager.

manager was a heavy word in your mouth. the only times you'd even echoed the job were your school project with bakugou and the one time you'd handed a schedule to a sidekick during one of your internships. besides, you didn't want to earn the job simply because you had the right connection; you wanted to earn it, and as of then, you didn't quite feel you had. when you'd voiced this concerned to bakugou, he bluntly told you that he believed you were fit. (your first reaction was: what kind of reasoning is that?) he then followed up that he was in desperate need of a competent manager, and that if you could do one day he'd be grateful and pay however much you asked. it was a surprising request from such a popular, in-demand hero, but you supposed it wouldn't hurt.

it has not hurt at all in the five years you've been his manager. the closest thing that has come to hurting would be the fangirls, and even then, most mean no harm. somewhere in the middle you'd started dating bakugou, and it was almost as if you were dating his fangirls as well, with the way they always tried to contact you or hammered you if they recognized you in public. thankfully, the latter was extremely rare.

however, today was not a particularly good day for the appearance of fangirls. whatever power in the universe had decided to awaken you on the wrong side of bed (literally, you found yourself face-to-face with a spider and two alarms too late), and now you were blessed with a meet-and-greet for bakugou. 

fanmeets were held once in a blue moon for bakugou (thankfully), because he was more concerned about his hero duties than how his fanservice would make some girl's heart burst out of her chest. lucky for you, the universe blessed you to have one today.

really, the only thing you can think of as you drive to work is the sight of bakugou's face. he's always quite cute in the mornings; the rasp of sleep on his tongue and a slight pout he has when talking. it would be enough to reenergize you for the day, you know for sure.

conveniently, he is nowhere near his office when you arrive to work. you pull out the calendar on your phone and realize: he's currently being styled for his fanmeet, and you definitely won't be seeing him for another hour. you sigh, heading to the lounge to make yourself coffee. this was gonna be a long day.

conveniently, you burn your hand in the slightest making your coffee, and it seems to have started a time bomb of your patience. careful not to burn your tongue on the godforsaken coffee, it gets cold. you're stuck in an elevator with a bunch of stockholders who do not smell pleasant (a potpourri of conflicting fragrances is not ideal), and somehow, you almost trip up walking while fuming about the horribleness of your day.

conveniently, you forget where you put the paper copy of today's schedule and must begrudgingly adhere to the plain, unannotated one on your phone. the hold time for the fanmeet venue takes far too long for a priority customer (such as yourself and ground zero), and listening to eine kleine nachtmusik for the billionth time as the same monotone voice apologizes for the wait does nothing to brighten your day. damnit, mozart, it's morning, and you have 8 more hours of this shit. thankfully, the venue has not completely forgotten about your existence and you're able to confirm everything, and then you find yourself driving to said venue to meet up with staff. traffic is one hell of a nightmare to someone having a bad day.

you sit in your car, which seems extremely cramped and humid because you've been sitting in it for too long, clicking on and off radio channels to the point you make a rhythm based off the clicks and somehow your radio hasn't broken and traffic hasn't moved an inch.

you arrive at the venue on time with no bakugou in sight; ah, right, he's retouching his makeup and hair. he doesn't even need makeup, in your humble opinion; his natural skin is literally glowing. you're just about to approach bakugou (who, maybe on second thought, needs the makeup, considering how angelic he looks) when one of the staff asks that you check that the projector is on the right channel, and then the fans pour in. you try to convince yourself that each fan has spent an abhorral amount of money to get into this event and that you should treat them with respect, but it's so damn hard when they're all nosebleeding and making grabby hands at bakugou. you're grateful you're not a bodyguard, or you're sure you would've decked the teen with the green shirt who attempted to full-on makeout with bakugou before being politely escorted out.

you could barf at the fanservice so gracefully sown into the fanmeet; the way bakugou so effortlessly intertwines with a fan's, or how he ends a smooth line with a heart-killing smirk. it's absolutely disgusting recalling that you taught him all of that.

needless to say, you have a lot of pent-up frustration by end of the day. the fanmeet ended smoothly, though halfway in, you considered ditching your position as manager to become a nosebleeding, crying, grabby-handed fan just to make contact with bakugou. perhaps the last straw for you was after the fanmeet; as the two of you exited the venue, tired, a fan (probably around bakugou's age) approached bakugou for a picture. bakugou accepted, and she apologized profusely for bothering the two of you. you were stuck behind the camera, grumpily watching as she put her hands on bakugou. a rational part of your brain knew her touches were as polite as possible, but the rest of your brain selectively ignored this fact. you fumed taking the photo, gritting out a smile as you handed back the fan's phone (stopping yourself from smashing it on the pavement). who were these fans, taking away you from bakugou? 

"senpai," bakugou deadpans as the two of you drive home. the word brings a sense of comfort to you; strange to an outside viewer, you know, but it somewhat acts as a pet name bakugou used on you. the word brings you back to simpler times, when you and bakugou were clear-cut senpai and kouhai, nothing else. even when you became his manager, the word "senpai" rolled so smoothly off his tongue, despite the roles being switched. you started having a penchant for the word, it becoming a word of comfort to you. for you, entangled in a strange manager/lover position to bakugou. senpai. it reminds you of who bakugou was, and how much he means to you now.

"eh? what's wrong? you've been lookin' upset all day," bakugou grunts.

"it's... trivial," you say. you rarely get jealous; you trust bakugou, and know he'd only ever have eyes for you. "let's talk about it when we get home." you make up your mind to discuss it rationally with bakugou when you get home. very rationally, with cuddles and all.

one thing that fans will never ever get are bakugou's cuddles, and you smile to yourself at that. they'll never know what it feels like to feel safe in bakugou's arms, to be enveloped in his scent, to feel home with bakugou, and be able to call him only yours. in that way, he's your little secret.

when bakugou asks what's wrong at home, you simply reply, "missed you." the two words are enough; he's stepping towards you, a little hesitant, and then his arms are around you, and the familiar scent of caramel greets you.

"had a bad day," you confess, "and watching all the fans and the fanservice..."

"fuck the fanservice," bakugou says, and his grip gets slightly tighter. "i'd leave it all for you, in a heartbeat. i'm... i'm only yours." you look at him, and he's looking away, face scrunched in a frustrated expression and cheeks dusted pink.

"you should know that, idiot," he grumbles. 

you smile. "love you," you say, pecking his cheek softly. he flushes deeper at this, glancing at you then away again.

"don't make me say it back," he mumbles. "you know i love you too."

it's at night when the feelings of jealousy bubble again. you can't help but feel insecure, replaying the day's events in your mind. those girls had so much that you didn't - surely, they were much more attractive, much more sweet and kind. 

"mine," you mumble, pressing yourself against bakugou.

"stop thinking, moron, and sleep," bakugou grunts. "of course i'm all yours."

[parkrstark]

parkrstark rec list

I finally put together a list of links to my fics, even the ones stuck in multi-chaptered ficlet collections. I tried separating it as much as I could as clearly as I could. 

If you like my fics, maybe consider supporting me on ko-fi! If you’re interested in commissioning a fic, email me at parkrstark@gmail.com

Click the read more to see the full list!

One Shots: 

his guy in the chair (Interwebs, Iron Dad, 2k, may and tony co-parenting)

sick peter (iron dad, ficlet, tony takes care of a sick peter)

mind control pt 1 (iron dad, ficlet, peter is mind controlled to hurt tony) 

mind control pt 2 (iron dad, ficlet, tony is mind controlled to hurt peter)

12.15.17 (Iron Dad, 4k, Star Wars nerds)

in color (Iron Dad, 4k, Christmas fic)

Honorary Parker (Iron Dad, 3k, Christmas fic)

when the sun shines (we shine together) (Peter&Ned&MJ,  Iron Dad, 1k, the Lipsync battle video)

To My Son (Iron Dad, 3k, Tony teaches Peter how to shave)

hell on the heart (Iron Dad, 1k, the ferry scene)

see what i see (Iron Dad, 2k, Peter is being bulled)

don't quit your day job, kid (Iron Dad, 2k, Tony is sick)

our boy (Iron Dad, 4k, Peter uses BARF to cope with Uncle Ben’s death)

there you'll be (Iron Dad, 2k, Peter gets his wisdom teeth removed)

concrete angel (Iron Dad, 3k, Skip is Peter’s teacher, tw: noncon)

i hold on (Iron Dad, 2k, Peter starts college)

my arms will hold you (keep you safe and warm) (Iron Dad, 3k, Peter and Tony have oxytocin withdrawals, better known as cuddle withdrawals) 

somebody must have (prayed for me) (Iron Dad, 4k, Bad guys use the sonic taser on Peter and Tony)

i followed your ashes (into outer space) (Iron Dad, 2k, Endgame Speculation)

make me strong  (Iron Dad, 10k, Skip is an old friend of Tony’s, tw: noncon)

so tender and mild (Iron Dad, 3k, Tony holds babies to help with his insomnia)

the eleventh commandment (Happy&Peter, Rhodey&Peter, 6k, Skip is Peter’s coach and Happy finds out, tw: noncon)

i pour my heart into your hands (Iron Dad, 1k, Tony has insomnia)

you had to pick on me (Iron Dad, 9k, parallel of Peter and Tony being bullied)

the talk (Iron Dad, Iron Bros, 3k, Tony and Rhodey give Peter the talk while they’re drunk)

almost home (Iron Dad, 2k, whump)

cryin' for me (Iron Dad, 3k, Peter dealing with Tony’s death post EG)

little miss magic (Iron Dad, Peter&Morgan, 1k, Peter gets invited to Morgan’s birthday party)

my old man (Iron Dad, 8k, Peter and Tony get into an argument while on a trip and are kidnapped)

if something should happen (Iron Bros, Iron Dad, 3k, Rhodey has to look after the family once Tony is gone)

you shouldn't have to (Iron Dad, 1k, Peter is terrified of needles)

you're gonna be (Superfamily, 3k, Baby!Peter is sick)

from now on (Iron Dad, 16k, Peter and Tony are stuck in a blizzard, Peter loses his arm)

i will, i promise (Iron Dad, 1k, Peter’s hurt and Tony’s protective)

ben's old number (Ben&Peter, Iron Dad, 5k, Uncle Ben angst)

without you (i was broken) (Iron Dad, 4k, Peter doesn’t feel his spidey senses around Tony)

always on duty (Iron Dad, Happy&Peter, 4k, Tony is hurt at a gala)

would have loved her (Iron Dad, 1k, Peter is a dad and missing Tony post EG)

father knows best (Superfamily, 3k, Peter gets bit by the spider)

Iron dad-iversary (Iron Dad, ficlet, Tony and Peter had known each other one year) 

Iron Dad Reunion (Iron Dad, ficlet, Peter and Tony reunion post iw)

interwebs get together (Interwebs, ficlet, Peter kissing Ned in the scene when May walks in on them right after Ned finds out his secret) 

peter is a father (iron dad, interwebs, ficlet, dad!peter)

tony stark defense leader (iron dad, ficlet, peter has a tony stark stan blog)

peter’s birthday (iron dad, ficlet, peter’s birthday being celebrated post IW)

ned and peter’s relationship is discovered (interwebs, May&Peter, Iron Dad, ficlet, may and Tony confront Peter about Ned)

bucky&peter (Bucky&peter, ficlet, stuck in the sou stone)

the talk (iron dad, ficlet, tony gives peter the talk)

Multi-Chapter Fics:

danger or trouble, i'm there on the double (Iron Dad, 5k, underage drinking at a party)

i see myself (in you) (Iron Dad, 28k, Peter and Tony swap bodies)

standing in the gallows (Iron Dad, 59k, Peter is kidnapped by Justin Hammer)

just believe (Iron Dad, 18k, Christmas fic, It’s Wonderful Life vibes, tw: noncon)

one makes me want another (Superfamily, 12k, Steve and Tony adopt another kid and Peter feels out of place)

mr. misunderstood (Iron Dad, Harley&Peter, 19k, Peter and Harley meet and don’t immediately get along)

come morning light (we'll be safe & sound) (Superfamily, 14k, Tony, Peter, and Steve are stuck living their worst nightmares)

fortune and glory (Steve&Peter, Stony, Iron Dad, 29k, Indiana Jones AU)

Whumptober/Whump Bingo

your heart is a masterpiece (and i will keep it safe) (Stony, 1k, tremors)

stabbing (iron dad, ficlet, hurt!peter) 

bloody hands (iron dad, ficlet, Uncle Ben angst) 

insomnia (iron dad, ficlet, tony has insomnia) 

“no, stop!” (iron dad, ficlet, panic attacks, skip westcott) 

poisoned (iron dad, ficlet, peter drinks a spiked drink meant for tony) 

betrayal (iron dad, ficlet, peter talks to norman osborn at a fair) 

kidnapping (iron dad, ficlet, tony and rhodey rescue peter)

fever (iron dad, ficlet, sick!peter)

stranded (iron dad, ficlet, peter has a Really Bad date)

bruised (iron dad, ficlet, may’s abusive boyfriend)

hypothermia (iron dad, ficlet, peter and tony kidnapped)

electrocution (iron dad, ficlet, tony watches peter be tortured)

“Stay!” (Iron dad, ficlet, peter buys his first apartment)

torture (iron dad, ficlet, peter is water baorded) 

manhandling (iron dad, ficlet, people try to kidnap peter at school) 

bedridden (iron dad, ficlet, peter is stuck in bed) 

branding (iron dad, ficlet, hurt!peter) 

rescue (iron dad, ficlet, tony rescues peter from torture. pain meds don’t work) 

serial killer (iron dad, ficlet, peter is kidnapped by a serial killer)

murderer (iron dad, ficlet, bad guy tells tony to kill an innocent person or peter) 

infinity war au (iron dad, ficlet, tony dies after thanos stabs him)

ripped from each other’s arms (iron dad, ficlet, tony and peter kidnapped together) 

one way window (iron dad, ficlet, tony watches peter be tortured)

attempted rape (iron dad, ficlet, peter saves tony) 

mouth stitched shut (happy&peter, ficlet, hurt!peter)

explosion (happy& peter, ficlet, someone tries blowing up happy’s car) 

chained to a bed (iron dad, ficlet, peter is kidnapped for 7 months)

5+1s

5 times tony forgot peter was just a kid (Iron Dad, 12k)

5 times it wasn't a hug and the 1 time it was (Iron Dad, 31k)

it's always sunny (in the rich man's world) (May+Peter & Iron Dad, 7k, Peter’s financial struggles)

5 times peter clung to tony (Iron Dad, 21k)

waving through a window (Superfamily, 9k, 5 times peter says he’s okay and one time he means it)

Stardust & Nightmares Series (tw: noncon)

baby, don't cry (Iron Dad, 7k)

don't scream  (Iron Dad, 5k) 

just close your eyes (Iron Dad, 8k)

and pretend (Iron Dad, 7k)

it's a dream (Iron Dad, 40k)

Asexual!Peter Series

the broken radio (Iron Dad, 4k, realizing he’s ace)

here to stay (Iron Dad, 3k, Peter deals with bullying)

these are my people (Iron Dad, 3k, Tony takes Peter to a pride parade)

life ain't always beautiful (Iron Dad, 2k, Peter has his first heartbreak

Darling, Don’t You Ever Grow Up Series

with arms wide open (Iron Dad, 14k, Tony and Pepper get pregnant, written pre IW) 

5 times peter saved aurora (Iron Dad, Aurora&Peter, 39k, ...and 1 time they save each other)

follow your arrow (Iron Dad, 1k, Asexual!Peter)

what brothers are for (Iron Dad, 5k, Peter protects his little sister, tw: noncon)

i will keep you safe (Peter&Aurora, Iron Dad, 3k, Peter and Aurora get stuck while hiding a birthday present for Tony)

Baby Mine Series

close to my heart, never to part (Iron Dad, 63k, Peter gets turned into a toddler)

give me back my kid (Iron Dad, 5k, Peter with the Avengers as a toddler)

Superfamily Series

Sick Peter (Captain Pops, ficlet, Steve takes care of a sick peter)

plane ride (Superfamily, ficlet, Peter gets nervous on a plane ride and his dads try to calm him down) 

After school Nap (Captain Pops, ficlet, Peter comes home to see Steve napping and joins him)

Artist Steve (Captain Pops, ficlet, Steve draws Peter) 

GPS and Road Rage (Captain Pops, ficlet, Peter annoys Steve while he’s trying to drive)

boy (run like you're bulletproof) (Superfamily, 3k, Peter comes home from patrol with a bullet in his stomach)

without a fight (Superfamily, 5k, Peter gets angry at his dads before they go to a mission and then they’re presumed dead)

with me by your side (Superfamily, 2k, Peter is kidnapped and a bomb is strapped to his chest) 

but i'm stuck (in colder weather) (Superfamily, 3k, Peter falls into a frozen lake) 

you should never blame yourself (Superfamily, 4k, Peter needs his appendix removed) 

give 'em what they want (without being too different) (Superfamily, 2k, Peter discovers he is asexual)

fear is a liar (Captain Pops, 1k, Peter struggling with his trauma of a past abusive relationship, tw:dubcon. self harm)

bloom (me and you) (Superfamily, Parksborn, 3k, Peter is bullied at school for being asexual)

take my heart clean apart (Captain Pops, Parksborn, Superfamily, 6k, Peter and Harry working through their relationship when one of them is asexual and the other is not) 

how can it be time already? (Captain Pops, Superfamily, Parksborn, 15k, 6 times steve stopped tears and 1 time he couldn’t)

can you hold me? (Captain Pops, Superfamily, Parksborn, 75k, Peter and Steve are kidnapped)

Constant as the Stars Above Series

peter's stars (Captain Pops, Stony, Superfamily, 175k, Steve is Peter’s biological father and they are homeless) 

chapel, little apple (Superfamily, 3k, Slice of Life)

stars in the city (Superfamily, wip, sequel) 

Stony Bingo

steve rogers-stark: full time dad/husband, part time spider relocator (Superfamily, 1k, “go be a hero”, AU, baby Peter)

sometimes, it all gets a little too much (Stony, 1k, Cuddling)

walking a tightrope with you (Stony, 2k, AU: canon divergence, steve and tony share a bed in clint’s farmhouse)

[sneezy-cheeseloaf]

recounting the entire avengers: endgame movie, which i only saw once when it came out, from memory

because i just took the SAT and i want to do anything except think about that so get ready for a fun ride full of holes and my reenactments of scenes and quotes that i remember from however many years it’s been now since endgame came out. buckle the fuckle up

movie opens, clint’s whole ass family fucking dies. cue killing spree fueled by grief and anger. HashTag Relatable

tony is floating through space with nebula and teaching her how to play paper football

holy shit is this how tony dies

“pep” ouc h

oh hey he’s home, dope

The Gang (tm) learns where thanos’s farm is somehow i can’t really remember

“perhaps i judged you too harshly”

“???? thor????” “what? i went for the head”

“five” five what?? days?? weeks??? months???? oh boy i can’t wait to find ou- “years later” HUH???????

steve looks the exact same, so i guess he kept up that workout schedule even through the snap. i mean good for him honestly

and is also running a talk therapy group like sam did

a single smidgen of gay representation but it’s a good start ig

i don’t really remember what everyone else was doing, i just know that tony and pep have morgan now but idk if that gets revealed now or later

the only reason we had a movie is because of a rat. everyone say thank you to Rat for releasing scott lang, please. round of applause

scott’s daughter is all grown up and catch me sobbing over the fact that he wasn’t there to see it

somewhere in here nat is crying and eating a sandwich and honestly girl same

“hey!!! it’s me!!!! scott lang!!! ant man???? also what the hell happened???? lemme IN”

cue scott lang having a single brain cell and bringing up time travel. i think it was him that proposed the idea. maybe not. but imma give him credit

oh yeah bruce and hulk are besties now and bruce is just permanently Like That

and cue everyone being shook at the idea of time travel

time to go see Science Man at his house on the lake

“i wish you had come for anything else.” ouch

gang leaves dejectedly

peter. that’s it. and suddenly tony is all hands on deck

cue science mumbo jumbo in the middle of the night while he eats something out of a bag that i can’t remember

“shit!!” “sHiT!!!” “NO”

“i love you 3000″

Science Man reveals that he has, indeed cracked the code to literal time travel

cue nat, the only person with an umbrella, going to find clint who is busy with murder, as he does

“don’t do that. don’t give me home” stfu budapest man and get in the car.

thor has. enlargened. and is now playing fortnight with korg as a means to cope with what happened plus losing loki, as i think we all would

The Gang is back together and working (surprisingly) coordinately and throwing ideas around and it’s actually very cute. and it makes my heart very happy. and i want to cry every time i think about it because we all know what comes next

scott’s taco gets blown away. bruce gives him another. all is well in the world

and in this exhibit we see the only brain cell in the whole group, which is being used by rhodey at all times

“why don’t we just,,,, (choking motion)” “to a BABY???”

during the time tests someone gets reverted to a baby but i don’t remember who and it’s highkey disturbing

“i consider this an absolute win!!”

cue slo mo walk with the cool white time suits that everyone looks so good in

“see you in a minute” that smile. she looks so happy. sobbing

i think it’s in here that all the color go through steve’s eyes, so let’s just take a minute to acknowledge how pretty he is

“just for the record, that suit did nothing for your ass.” “i don’t remember asking you to look”

“that’s america’s ass.” yes it is scott you’re absolutely right

“i cOuLd dO tHiS aLL dAy” “yeah i knoOoOW”

time for tony to give tony a heart attack and then just stare in what i can only assume is amusement. i’m pretty sure that comes after america’s ass but maybe not

somewhere in here steve is just staring at peggy through blinds and it’s sad when you see it but when you think about it afterwards, it’s so funny for no reason

time to get whacked by a very angry hulk who was not allowed to use the elevator

“NO STAIRS”

tony goes flying. so does the tesseract. loki, in handcuffs, is like “oh bet this is mine now” and. Leaves.

i’m pretty sure it’s bruce who goes and gets schooled by The Ancient One on the multiverse, and i say it’s bruce because i think he’s the only one out of The Gang who could ever actually wrap his head around it

i don’t remember exactly how they get the tesseract but they do

thor and rocket are in asgard and thor has a panic attack, as I think we all would if we had to talk to our dead mother and pretend like we don't know what's going to happen

and remember kids, slapping someone is not the way to handle a panic attack. anyways

a mother always knows

"i'm still worthy!!!!" you always were, thor. you never stopped being worthy

and we have our hammer back

cue sobbing on vormir

“clint. it’s ok. it’s ok.” that smile.

nat’s fucking dead and i’m fucking dead inside let’s keep this party goin

other stones are recovered and i don’t really remember how but hey we got all six

“where’s nat?” cue more sobbing from me and from clint as you can see each and every team member’s heart drop to the fucking floor. especially steve

yeah maybe we’re doing this for half the universe and all the people we lost, but mostly for nat now

tony’s makeshift infinity gauntlet has entered the chat

Green Man is the only one who can physically take the power of the stones, so the fate of literally everything they have ever done up to this point is on him

snap rest in peace bruce’s arm

cue every single person in the theater holding their breath

“guys. it worked.”

cue explosion as their facility gets bombed and i am terrified that it has killed the entire gang

but it obviously has not and i am once again a Class A Idiot

i can't remember if it’s steve or tony who wakes up first but one shakes the other awake and is like “get the fuck up bitch idk what just happened but we got a problem”

everyone is mostly fine. but they’re all alive and that’s what matters

and now we have the setting for the entire rest of the movie basically

oh hey thanos. that’s uh. that’s a big army you got there

i don’t really remember everything that happened with The Past thanos, gamora, and nebula but i remember that gamora once again sees what a twat her adoptive father is and is like “oh hell na”

cue the gang fighting for their lives against Past thanos. literally

oh shit thor’s about to be killed????

OH MY GOD HE HAS THE HAMMER

cue the theater screaming as they should

hell yeah. bonk that giant space grape with the god of thunder’s hammer. you go steve. and look like a badass doing it as you should

shit’s still fucked and they eventually get their asses handed to them one by one

somewhere in here the shield breaks just like we saw in age of ultron. and like damn bro i liked that thing

steve stands up by himself because bitch. you cant kill him unless he says so. he dies on his own terms. he didn’t live for over a fucking century to die like this

our mans is standing up against a whole ass army knowing full well that he can’t win but damn if he aint ready to try

“ok listen strange. you have to open the portal to his left. his LEFT. you hear me???”

“steve. STEVE. on your left.”

cue the most goosebump-inducing scene that i have ever seen and probably will ever see. i would do anything to see that scene for the first time again. that feeling was like nothing i’ve ever experienced

the amazing symphonics are NOT helping my already-about-to-explode-from-excitement heart

now the gang’s ALL here. and we all cry because all of our peeps are back from the dead and we all missed them and highkey grieved for them after infinity war

i can’t remember if steve actually sees bucky yet but i think he does and i wanted to cry on the spot because not only did i miss bucky but man did i just want them to see each other again

cue sick pan of the whole ass marvel roster like smash ultimate, including howard duck somewhere in there

PETER OUR BOY SWINGIN ON IN

“AVENGERS. assemble.” “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

but we all know damn well that not a single person could hear him whisper that shit. like steve bro speak up a little

and the battle for the ages commences

we get to see all our favorite boys are girls fuck shit up and it’s absolutely incredible. wow it really feels like someone’s missing who could that be.

this is now a very elaborate game of keepaway

“catch” “Catch” “CATCH “CATCH”

“hey queens” he remembered. catch me cryin

“hey peter. got somethin for me?” god i love her. flew through a whole ass spaceship. no stoppin her

t'challa remembers clint's name. he did care

oh yeah scott is fucking humongous again, but third time’s the charm ig. maybe he won't pass the fuck out this time

somewhere in here, strange starts holding like. an entire ocean back and i dont really remember where it came from

we get a whole segment of marvel women kicking ass and taking names and i think i just need to take a minute. WE collectively need to take a minute

carol flies straight through a spaceship and everyone is like ???? hello????? where have you been?????????

carol gets literally headbutted by thanos and doesnt move a fucking inch. and that look of murder in her eyes. she could tell me to walk into a pit of lava and i would not question it. the power

“launch the missiles!!!” “but sir, our army-” “DO IT”

damn thanos our expectations for you were low but holy fuck

somewhere in here i think petter quill sees Past gamora and is like gamora???? and she like kicks him in the balls or somethin and is like “this is the ones i picked?????”

the fight continues and honestly a lot of it’s a blur but damn was it not the coolest thing i’ve ever seen. 

cue strange knowing exactly how this was gonna go down, and holding up a single finger

i dont think ive ever seen that look on tony's face before

oh shit thanos has the gauntlet and all the stones. fuck.

wait holdup that gauntlet looks a little funky

WAIT HOLDUP

“i am inevitable”

“and i. am iron man.”

the theater, once again holds its breath

all is lowkey calm and everyone is shook

thanos’s entire army slowly fades away. including one of those big worm things that almost eats (i think it was) rocket but like. dusts right as it hits the ground and is a really cool shot

and thanos sits down on a rock. and finally is gone. and it's so cathartic

oh joyous day!! they’ve won!! they’ve done it!!! wait holdup where’s tony. i remember what happened to bruce where the fuck is tony

wait

wait hold on

wait hold on a minute

“we did it. we won, mr stark. we won. please, mr stark”

“pep.”

“it’s ok. you can rest. you can rest.”

i have officially passed away and am a sobbing mess. you can’t do this to me. he’s gonna come back. there’s no way. tony stark doesn’t die. no.

this is a fucking funeral. i am going to combust into tears

“proof that tony stark has a heart”

i just wanted him to be able to see morgan grow up.

but him and nat are eating shawarma together in the sky now.

“i’m recording this in case something goes wrong, which it won’t.”

“i love you 3000.”

oh we’re still rolling. oh we don’t even get a minute to process

steve is leaving??? wait holdup we cant lose both. no

“are you sure about this?” “i have to”

“i’m with you til the end of the line” so that was a fucking lie

but steve deserves to do what makes him happy. so i can’t be too mad. actually, nah i aint even mad i’m just sad

bucky looks so dejected. so sad. someone please give him a hug. he desperately needs it

oh hey steve. but you’re old now. hey then, grandpa. how did you. get there

buck and sam go talk to him as they should

“you wanna talk about her?” “no, i don’t think i will”

“how does it feel?” “like it belongs to someone else”

sam has officially inhered the shield, and by extension, his very own bucky barnes. it’s a packaged deal

clint’s got his family back. and they can finally finish their picnic or whatever they were doing at the beginning of the movies

and steve finally got that dance. finally. and he looks so happy. so content.

and that’s about all i remember

i have not watched endgame since i saw it in theaters when it came out because i absolutely do not have the emotional stability to do it again. but damn the disney plus shows have been bangin

i hope you enjoyed the ride, thank you for joining me in my. whatever the fuck this is

[irelise]

Yassen Gregorovich - Books vs TV

With the excellent new Alex Rider tv show out, I thought I would make a comparison post for one of my old favs, Yassen Gregorovich, who has a somewhat different feel in the books as compared to the show! This post will largely cover the first book Stormbreaker and should theoretically contain no spoilers for the potential future arcs of the show, since the events of Stormbreaker are presumably non-canon now. (Spoilers abound for the episodes of the show already out, though!)

If there’s any interest, I’ll put up a second post covering Eagle Strike and some parts of Russian Roulette that delves deeper into Yassen and his complicated relationship with Alex. Just let me know!

Much like the show, Yassen was the one who killed Ian Rider. Unlike the show, however, he’s known to be active on the field and the first time we “encounter” him is prior to Alex’s first mission, where Mrs Jones gives Alex a warning:

She took out a black-and-white photograph and laid it on the table. It showed a man in a white T shirt and jeans. He was in his late twenties with light, close cropped hair, a smooth face, the body of a dancer. The photograph was slightly blurred. It had been taken from a distance, possibly with a hidden camera. “I want you to look at this,” she said.

"I’m looking."

“His name is Yassen Gregorovich. He was born in Russia, but he now works for many countries. Iraq has employed him. Also Serbia, Libya, and China.”

“What does he do?” Alex asked.

"He’s a contract killer, Alex. We believe it was he who killed Ian Rider.”

There was a long pause. Alex had almost managed to persuade himself that this whole business was just some sort of crazy adventure…a game. But looking at the cold face with its blank, hooded eyes, he felt something stirring inside him and knew it was fear. He remembered his uncle’s car, shattered by bullets. A man like this, a contract killer, would do the same to him. He wouldn’t even blink.

[…]

“Why are you telling me this now?” Alex asked. His mouth had gone dry.

"Because if you see him, if Yassen is anywhere near Sayle Enterprises, I want you to contact us at once."

“And then?"

“We’ll pull you out. It doesn’t matter how old you are, Alex. If Yassen finds out you’re working for us, he’ll kill you too.”

I always thought this was a pretty good introductory scene -- Yassen has a very deadly reputation in the books, which is established at once then hammered in over and over again. Other traits which come up again and again include his coldness and his dancer’s body which is totally something I’m into, gotta love those “elegant and deadly assassin” tropes

(also, yes, Yassen is blond in the books and definitely not a brunet or even a redhead as in the movie. he also doesn’t have a distinctive facial scar!)

Yassen doesn’t actually have many scenes in Stormbreaker, although the shadow of his presence looms pretty darkly over the narrative. Alex only runs into him twice on the mission: once from a distance -- A lean, fair-haired figure dressed in black detached himself from the assembly line and walked languidly toward a door that slid open to receive him -- and the other encounter also occurs from a distance, when Alex is spying on a mysterious delivery at the docks in the dead of the night...

And then the tower opened and a man climbed out, stretching himself in the cold morning air. Even without the half-moon, Alex would have recognized the sleek dancer’s body and the close cropped-hair of the man whose photograph he had seen only a few days before. It was Yassen Gregorovich. Alex stared at him with growing fear. This was the contract killer Mrs. Jones had told him about. The man who had murdered Ian Rider. He was dressed in grey overalls and sneakers. He was smiling. He was the last person Alex wanted to meet.

[…]

Meanwhile, the guards from Sayle Enterprises had formed a line stretching back almost to the point where the vehicles were parked. Yassen gave an order and, as Alex watched from behind the rocks, a metallic silver box with a vacuum seal appeared, held by unseen hands at the top of the submarine’s tower. Yassen himself passed it down to the first of the guards, who then passed it back up the line. About forty more boxes followed, one after another. It took almost an hour to unload the submarine. The men handled the boxes carefully. They obviously didn’t want to break whatever was inside.

By the end of the hour they were almost finished. The boxes were being repacked now into the back of the truck that Alex had vacated. And that was when it happened. One of the men, standing on the jetty, dropped one of the boxes. He managed to catch it again at the last minute, but even so it banged down heavily on the stone surface. Everyone stopped. Instantly. It was as if a switch had been thrown and Alex could almost feel the raw fear in the air.

Yassen was the first to recover. He darted forward along the jetty, moving like a cat, his feet making no sound. He reached the box and ran his hands over it, checking the seal, then nodded slowly. The metal wasn’t even dented.

With everyone so still Alex heard the exchange that followed.

“I’m sorry,” the guard said. “I won’t do that again.”

“No. You won’t,” Yassen agreed, and shot him.

Largely a reaffirmation of what we saw from the photograph scene, this time in person: Yassen is generally quiet, understated and deceptively relaxed -- up until the point he murders somebody without blinking. I think the show does a good job capturing that aspect of Yassen, with scenes like Ian’s death and Dr. Greif in the car coming to mind in particular. Gotta love that pairing of Yassen’s generally calm demeanour with the bursts of restrained yet lethal violence!

Some other minor but interesting character notes: despite being one of the most highly-paid and successful assassins in the world, Yassen is perfectly comfortable doing grunt work (passing boxes, dressing in shitty grey overalls). Similarly, despite being (presumably) more comfortable working alone, he’s also at ease with giving orders and coordinating large groups of people.

Now, moving onto the last time Yassen shows up in Stormbreaker. This is right at the end of the book after Alex successfully foils the plot of the big bad (Herod Sayle), only to get kidnapped by him while his guard is down. Sayle takes them to a rooftop where a helicopter is coming to whisk Sayle away, but first he wants to have some revenge...

"That’s my ticket out of here!” Sayle continued. “They’ll never find me! And one day I’ll be back. Next time, nothing will go wrong. And you won’t be here to stop me. This is the end for you! This is where you die!”

There was nothing Alex could do. Sayle raised the gun and took aim, his eyes wide, the pupils blacker than they had ever been, mere pinpricks in the bulging white.

There were two small explosive cracks.

Alex looked down, expecting to see blood. There was nothing. He couldn’t feel anything. Then Sayle staggered and fell onto his back. There were two gaping holes in his chest.

The helicopter landed in the center of the cross. The pilot got out.

Still holding the gun that had killed Herod Sayle, he walked over and examined the body, prodding it with his shoe. Satisfied, he nodded to himself, tucking the gun away. He had switched off the engine of the helicopter and behind him the blades slowed down and stopped. Alex stepped forward. The man seemed to notice him for the first time.

"You’re Yassen Gregorovich,” Alex said.

The Russian nodded. It was impossible to tell what was going on in his head. His clear blue eyes gave nothing away.

"Why did you kill him?” Alex asked.

“Those were my instructions.” There was no trace of an accent in his voice. He spoke softly, reasonably. “He had become an embarrassment. It was better this way."

"Not better for him.”

Yassen shrugged.

“What about me?” Alex asked.

The Russian ran his eyes over Alex, as if weighing him up. “I have no instructions concerning you,” he said.

"You’re not going to shoot me too?”

"Do I have any need to?”

There was a pause. The two of them gazed at each other over the corpse of Herod Sayle.

“You killed Ian Rider,” Alex said. “He was my uncle.”

Yassen shrugged. “I kill a lot of people"

“One day I’ll kill you.”

“A lot of people have tried.” Yassen smiled. “Believe me,” he said, “it would be better if we didn’t meet again. Go back to school. Go back to your life. And the next time they ask you, say no. Killing is for grown-ups and you’re still a child.”

He turned his back on Alex and climbed into the cabin. The blades started up, and a few seconds later, the helicopter rose back into the air. For a moment it hovered at the side of the building. Behind the glass, Yassen raised his hand. A gesture of friendship? A salute?

Alex raised his hand. The helicopter spun away.

Alex stood where he was, watching it, until it had disappeared in the dying light.

HOO BOY where to start! This is a longer scene compared to the rest but I love it so much, it’s probably the best part of Stormbreaker for me and obviously it’s fairly different from the show. I adore the last scene of the show since the tension was delightful, but this hit in a different way. Alex! And Yassen! Actually talking!!! It’s a sparse scene (like most of AH’s writing), but very atmospheric and loaded with meaning all the same.

Let’s start with the obvious stuff first - book!Yassen is fair-haired and blue-eyed (or grey, depending), and has a very measured way of speaking without any accent at all. He very much falls into the archetype of “inscrutable Russian assassin with a mysterious connection to the protagonist” and it’s delightful.

I do like the fact we only really see Yassen in person for two scenes in the entire book, and both times he kills someone ruthlessly and efficiently. (...yes, he did kill Sayle while piloting a helicopter) His reputation is well-deserved and I think the show does an excellent job with that too; every time we see Yassen on screen there’s a feeling that shit is about to go down and somebody is about to die.

The show also does a pretty good job hinting at the connection between Yassen and Alex (ughh Yassen’s expression when he sees Alex for the first time kills me every time). In Stormbreaker, Yassen does (initially) seem colder towards Alex, emotionless, just a man on a job. But even then, we get little hints of warmth shining through such as the way he smiles when Alex promises to kill him, and of course the salute! It’s pretty clear that Yassen has some measure of fondness for Alex, because no way an assassin would normally just let somebody go after they promised to kill him, even if that person is only a teenage boy (especially considering that teenage boy is driven by a desire to take revenge on his uncle’s killer). I also think it’s interesting that Alex reciprocates his salute. He’s clearly aware (even if only subconsciously) of the connection between the two of them.

Though I think what hits the hardest for me is the fact Yassen is the one to tell Alex that he belongs in school, that he’s a child and he shouldn’t be part of this world. Alex in the books is much, much lonelier compared to the show. There was no Jack or Tom there for him, since Jack was kept completely out of the loop and Tom doesn’t even exist in the book. Wolf and the K-Unit largely either ignored or bullied Alex. As for Blunt and Jones, Alex just saved thousands of kids in England yet the only thing MI6 tells him afterwards is that his actions can never be revealed to the public, his youth will make him useful for future missions, and then the only thing they give him is a doctor’s note(!!!) to explain his absence from school.

If that sounds all sorts of terrible and unfair, Alex agrees:

In the end the big difference between him and James Bond wasn’t a question of age. It was a question of loyalty. In the old days spies had done what they’d done because they loved their country, because they believed in what they were doing. But he’d never been given a choice.

Nowadays, spies weren’t employed. They were used.

And of all the people to point out how fucked up the whole situation is and how Alex needs to get out...it’s Yassen, the contract killer, his uncle’s murderer. And Yassen says it straight to Alex’s face instead of just making token protests about how wrong it is to send a teenage boy into danger and then doing it anyway. I think the moment had a fairly big impact on Alex, and I was sad it wasn’t included in the show, but ah well. Another time, maybe?

BONUS

OK i know this was meant to be a book vs tv show thing BUT I WOULD BE REMISS IN MY DUTIES NOT TO LINK TO THE LAST SCENE AS DEPICTED IN THE OLD MOVIE

‘2 minutes of questionable everything’ from the video description about sums it up. the violins. the closeness. the long lingering looks. “i’ll never forget you.”

Anyway, hope this was interesting and at least a bit informative! Do let me know there’s any interest in a part 2 of this post covering Eagle Strike and maybe a bit of Russian Roulette!

[katsukisbeatingheart]

and far away

Where two points meet in the wrong place, and second chances are inevitable.

word count: 3,090

warnings: angst, mentions of death, but it ends fluffy (and dramatic), i promise

ao3

a/n: aright this was the first soulmate au i wrote and look at it not being the first i post, comin atcha live from the wake of deadline after deadline.

Anyway. i don’t even know what kinda soulmate au this is i just sorta threw it up bc i had a dream abt this and i couldn’t get it out of my head and i had to rework it until i got it right.

thank u.

shinso

dabi

sero

You know that weird feeling you get, hearing about a piece of your little big world disappearing—how maybe you took it for granted, because it was inconsequential to your immediate life, yet it was still always just there?

Things you never thought about, but they’re gone and they’ve left behind an incalculable, gaping hollow.

You take notice, and your life changes forever.

That one flower shop you would pass by on your way to work in the morning burned down last week. You’d never considered stepping foot in to it once and yet the lingering aroma of hydrangea, bishop’s lace, and caspia melded with smoke reminds you harrowingly of the crisped possibility of something beautiful growing.

The statue sitting obscurely just at the edges of town—the one you’d see very briefly through the train car windows as it blurred into distance and hapless memory—the lightrail broke down in front of it one time, you could see it had garish red spray paint at the base—toppled over a few nights ago. You must have seen and missed it a hundred times and now it would never stand tall again.

Or, a person.

The hero surging up the ranks, commanding noise and shaking the earth with a violently righteous heart and power of will—had died last night.

He won to save.

For the first and last time, he lost to save.

You'd have expected sadness, of course—after all, he was a hero—and a person.

That empathetic sense of loss was inevitable, no matter who it could be.

But a piece of you had been broken in that moment.

You woke in a cold sweat, heart hammering in your ribcage, cheeks soaked under silent tears a thunderstorm couldn’t feel coming. The grief outweighed the confusion.

Recollections of a smoky scene billowed in and out of your consciousness, the rumbling and rubble in fresh vibrations on your skin. Though when you tried to remember—when you tried vehemently to clutch at the broken pieces—your head throbbed with an unknown ache.

It was like trying to recall memories from a life that wasn’t yours.

You were listless in your haze to the kitchen, pulling down a glass to fill with water. The coolness slipped down your throat to satiate flames you didn’t ignite.

By some spell only the universe and the promise mark branded across your heart of hearts knew, you clicked the television on through cold fingers. You can’t say that you remember fishing around the couch cushions for the remote, and you clutched to it like it was the only physical thing available. A flimsy, breakable anchor and a key to your undoing. The buttons stilled and your expression grew stony upon the red headline glaring through the room at 2:14 a.m.

The glass slipped from your fingers and you fell to your knees in the fractures.

The explosion you knew ended it all echoed in your ears, its knell a salient cackle without a voice, and existence a weightless pressure on your chest and head—places he’d have to wait to kiss for another lifetime.

You’d never focused on soulmates, the mere idea of one a luxury you could not afford.

And now a cruel, implacable taunt you could not bear.

Yours was miles away, apparently, and even before this moment you were more than a little skeptical about the idea of them. You’d heard the stories—promises from and to the universe conquering distance and time.

And love.

Love so overwhelmingly pure it stretches across ages your world just didn’t have.

To you, it seemed merciless—doomed to tie with souls you could miss in more than a few incarnations. Maybe some had multiple soulmates, you’d thought. You couldn’t be sure you were one of those people—if that was at all possible—but then again you weren’t sure how to tell.

All you knew, was right then and there, you at least had one.

It killed you knowing it took losing something you never even knew you had, to want it so, so desperately bad.

The truth curled at your throat venomously, asphyxiating a slow and decadent anguish incomparable to anything you’d ever felt before. Rip a limb, a lung, all limbs, both lungs—pull your heart right through the skin of your chest in a spiked, poisonous vice; nothing could destroy you more than this.

He was gone, and you were certain it was the kind of gone you would feel the next life over.

You barely had any strength in you to curse the stars swimming in your vision; barely any will to pray for a tear in existence—a loophole to bring him back.

Another chance.

Dilapidated and barren, you had spread out over the broken glass, impervious to what can only dream of harming you.

•.•.•.•.•.•.

The crowd swirled around you, passing faces and brushing shoulders with hardly an 'excuse me', or ‘coming through'.

One particularly harsh shoulder check sent you back a step, and you whirled to get a better view at who had crashed into you.

A man in a red turtleneck, donning a tan trench coat and a frustrated growl checked his wristwatch, before looking back up to you with kindling in his eyes. They were sharp, even as he glanced down at you rather indifferently, eyebrows pulled into a harsher expression than expected for someone who had been so kind as to gratingly remind you of your place in the crowd. Just another bit of space to skirt around into the next person, most likely.

Suddenly he relaxes, eyebrows raising up the slightest.

“Hello there, stranger.”

Your heart leaps to your throat and the tears flow—an unknown relief flooding through and you feel grief from another lifetime dissipate. You launch as best as you can into his arms, and he gathers you into palms that smell like caramel and sugar and ink and brass—in a hold that makes you feel safe.

And very warm.

You feel his hands at the top of your head and pressed into your back. They're big and steady, something you hadn’t realized you needed until they were on you.

It was as if all your life you had woven insipidly day to day on a tumultuous mundanity cracking at your feet.

And now with the hand that guided you into every curve and fold of the blazing man at your fingertips were you unshakable.

You blink and the fire flickers behind his eyes. He’s staring at you intensely—as though he’d silently asked you a question only you knew the answer to. Like it would disappear from existence if he were to look away now.

That much was probably true, as his skin paled to cumbersome bewilderment and an uncertainty to make a willow tree quiver. He had frozen, as if he could see the universe unwinding on your face.

Your voice echoed a hollow “I’m sorry”, and the crowd separated you like the tide pulling from the shoreline.

•.•.•.

You didn’t know what the sea did with the waves once they took them from the coast, but you did know that aching familiar feeling of impermanence. How an undercurrent can feel like a lifetime, and yet no amount of splashing can save a riptide. Not from brevity or grief in the same short breath.

It was still that recognizable body of water. The jolt of a new ripple in a single spot designing the whole thing entirely different, even if just for that one spot. That one moment.

A lot of it was in chance, you figured; chance that was so somberly beautiful in it’s immanence and what ifs.

Work swept you by with a complicated ease. You recall people communicating to you—you just don’t remember what they had said. Or needed. Or asked. Or pleaded. Behind calls of a name that sounded nothing like yours, yet you for some reason still answered to. Your attention fixated on the improbable, and you lived your day in a vacuum. You’d been shaken up so bad and filled by so much longing that by the end of it, you couldn’t tell your own headache from the strain of the city around you.

Your step from the platform onto the train car was cement, but you willed yourself forward for the certainty of routine and familiarity in the wake of tomorrow. The presence of other people around you was vague, and you thought to yourself how you would rather be anywhere else in the world than right there.

When the doors sliding closed behind you sounded a little too final—like the angry clank of a set of iron bars—you jerked your chin up, and leapt forward to press your fingertips to the glass.

On the other side, was the man with red eyes. His blonde hair bristled, almost as if he’d felt what you were feeling. Electric. Scared.

The cement in your step earlier felt like a ball and chain now.

You pressed further desperately against the completely solid and completely flat surface, as though you could singlehandedly figure a way to defy all known laws of earthen physics and somehow permeate through the doors. It was like watching a tsunami form, feeling the flood come and go and the wind push against your face. The motions were slow—his gaze using an eternity to find you again for the second time in this life—and you could feel yourself beginning to drown.

His eyes meeting yours became the catalyst to your fifty-second undoing. The undertow touched your face, laced your ankles, and pulled you under with the abruptly unwelcome motion of the train.

You watched each other through the window.

There was a spark of motion—he had dropped whatever was in his hands in a hastened mess—and you both took off in different directions to the same apex.

You skipped and hurdled around people cramped like bricks, strewn about like greenbriers, and stretched about like tripwire. You weren’t sure if you were actually saying anything, but your mouth moved like it was trying to apologise as you zipped down the opposite end of the train, eyes never leaving the man quickly slipping through your fingers ag—

Again.

The word rang in your ear like the piercing peal after an eruption.

Dread filled your chest as you watched the end of the train come into view, and the man in red ran out of platform to chase after you to. He stopped and stared in absolute dismay, as the light catching on your face from behind the window faded into the darkness of the tunnel.

You, in turn, leaned against the back window, throwing your shoulders around to slide to the floor. People stared and murmured, their curious gazes and exchanges doing nothing to penetrate the frenzy lurching you back and forth.

Your breath stung—but not anymore than your eyes.

He might be back. Tomorrow. You never know what'll happen tomorrow, your heart reasoned. Lucky for it, it hadn’t realized the both of you had already broken to pieces. Your skin stung and prickled with a vengeance, as though barrages of glass were sprouting where your nerves would be.

Never seen him there before. This was probably just a one-time thing, the hollow muttered. It was a bitter thing absolutely none of you needed to hear, but you figured it was the truth. After all, what are the chances of finding one man you’d never run into before in your life, among the thousands you see every day?

Way easier to give in than to hope for this ephemeral nonsense.

You hardly recognized the echoed, tin voice bleeding through the intercom, announcing that you had arrived at your destination. You briefly wondered how a trip that had felt so achingly long had gone by so fast—especially now that you realized you weren’t where you were supposed to be.

Collecting yourself as best you could, you rolled up slowly, pulling your coat around you tighter. You cleared the platform and stepped glacially up the steps, taking a moment to fix your eyes on the sunset tearing a beautiful orange, red, and yellow across the usually blue sky. It was an inferno against the usual insipidness.

You fixated on the rolling greens surrounding the scar the city made with it’s cracked sidewalks and taunting buildings and yelling cars and angry people and empty promises and—

“Hey.”

Broken hearts weren’t supposed to beat so loudly but yours did. You spun on your heal to face him.

You choked and felt unbearably like you should leap into his arms, as though something was imploring you to.

“Hey there, stranger,” you whispered, with a meek crack on the end of your breath. You were facing the beginning of the rest of your life and all you could say was hey back.

The man in front of you seemed to get the same idea, because he moved closer, sauntering up the slope to close the small distance like he had all the time in the world. Though, part of that might have been exhaustion, and part fear that the wind would catch you and steal you away. His legs trembled and you wondered what reason dominated the better bit of that.

He stopped in front of you, his hands in his pockets and shoulders slouched in a resolved curve, the smallest of smiles playing at the corners of his lips. You were certain you didn’t know him, and yet you were perfectly ready to believe that little bend in his face wasn’t a usually welcome guest. It looked so foreign on a face you weren’t supposed to have any recollection of.

His voice is like crackling and smoking tinder, deep and rich and roaring. It was getting to you in ways you never expected a sound to find.

“Don’t tell me I ran the better part of an entire city just for some shitty 'hey there'.”

You don’t think you’ll ever get over your shock and awe, but you collect your wits to square yourself against him. Your movements are sinuous as you slide forward, damn near chest to chest when you raise your face again.

“Well,” you sigh, letting a not-unkind smirk slip into your features, “looks like you’ll have to stick around longer if you want more than that.”

“Oh, I don’t think it’s a matter of want, but more a matter of deserve,” he grumbles. You snort at that, mindlessly catching a loose strand of his hair between deft fingers.

“Is that so? What makes you so entitled?” you tease.

His expression falls and some kind of grief pulls his brows down.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs. “I just feel like I’ve been missing something.”

For the first time in a while, you breathe evenly. It’s an odd feeling, but not unlike that moment of clarity you imagine tides have just before becoming a whole ocean again. Like the one you’d been dreaming of for so long.

Your raindrop fingertips find the smoothness of his skin, brushing along his cheekbones to roll down and splay across the sturdy planes of his chest. The quiet is cacophonous but you inhale gently and smile the most genuine you feel you could possibly muster.

“Hi,” you begin again, eyes sweeping the fabric of his sweater, to try and find confidence in the material. You raise your gaze to his—burning through your eyelashes—and he’s glaring at you with a quirked brow that doesn’t feel at all the threat you imagine it would be in different circumstances.

“I don’t know how to describe this, but I think… there’s this something that’s telling me I’m supposed to be with you— someway.” You glide your fingers down the curve of his arms, linking very lightly around his wrist.

“I feel like you’re someone I’ve lost a long time ago—” your fingers tangle into the cracking skin along his hands,

“—and I’m being offered this one chance to find you again.”

You measure up your hands, placing them palm to palm and he stares like they’re all he can see.

“If I don’t take it you’ll be gone for good,” you whisper in a voice so frangible.

A cheekier smirk cracks his mask from ear to ear.

“In that case, I’m definitely entitled to something, then.”

“Like what?”

Tender wouldn’t have been the first choice of words the moment you crashed into the scowling man on the street—but here he was now, cantankerousness replaced with a compassion you shouldn’t be surprised he could hold—considering you’d never met, after all.

“Your name.”

You tell him with a resounding crest in his chest and when the lightning strikes, his smile actually shows teeth that aren’t grit into a grimace. The first drop of rain spills down your face, and the man in front of you catches it with his thumb.

“Katsuki.”

It was loud, hearing that name in your ears. Like being trapped inside a clock tower—the reverb of each cog shifting and clicking into place with a harsh clang, succeeding rolling tones in succinct phrases you’d been hearing all your life.

Or rather—lives.

Your places in existence swirling in and out of mosaic focus of one another, to finally comix as clandestine breaths and fluttering of skin on skin.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Katsuki,” you smile.