#I will write the first person who knows where I pulled John from a prompt of their choice
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The Ghost King is my Uncle Drabbles #2
A/N: Some more linked to a prompt week writing I did
>>Masterpost
Original this builds on: Link
Rowdy Cousin
Batman swore internally, from the outside he stoically sat in his chair and did nothing to indicate the absolute chaos that was going on in his mind. The Meeting rooms light flickered and the speakers once more started up loudly blaring a song all over the Watchtower. He was pretty sure one of his sons had told him once that playing that song was a meme.
"Someone do something about that kid! He is Rickrolling us!" Green Lantern screamed above the music.
"Constantine is already trying to do something." Superman's hands covering his sensitive ears as the music must sound to him even louder.
Batman very much only looped one thought in his head. -It's only for world ending purpose, I cannot use it right now.-
He had a responsibility to uphold, he was the patriarch of the earth branch family. This was not something that required him to use that. No he would not use it. He refused. This was not a world ending matter. Surely Constantine or anyone else of the Justice League Dark would solve this problem any second now.
The screens flicker and Batman did anything he could in his mind to not let his eye twitch even if no one would be able to see it. Cat videos were playing where second earlier statistics and observatory programs had been running.
No he would not, they could handle this problem no need to involve family.
The music stopped and some of his hero colleagues let out a relieved sigh only for a familiar laugh to echo through the watchtower and a new song starting to play. One that apparently counts all 100 dumb ways to die.
"Why is Klarion even targeting the watchtower like this?!" The Flash shouted over the lyrics before turning to him.
"Did one of your kids piss him off or something?!"
"No." At least not as far as he knew, though considering the recent discovery as well as the surprise visits his uncle had done lately he might have a guess why the witch boy was targeting them right now. Didn't mean he would elaborate this reason to the other heroes present.
Before Wonder Woman could comment John Constantine stormed in the room and slammed his hands down onto the table staring right at Batman with blood shot eyes. "Call him."
"Who?"
"Don't play fucking dumb bats. You know who I mean. This is not the witch brat alone. There is another entity and if you don't want the fucking watchtower crashing into earth you call him right now."
"Bats, he is not talking about who I think he is?" Superman carefully asked while the other heroes looked at him just as questionable.
He held his staring contest with Constantine a little longer before he grunted and reached into his utility belt pulling out a small bat-shaped pendant. A personalized upgraded calling card, his uncle had gifted to him as well as each of his children and extended family members.
This was not how he imagined a meeting in regards to his new discoveries and a possible sure fire contingency plan against world ending emergencies would go. He rubbed his thumb against the engraving waiting for a short moment for it to pulse, before tapping the pendant three times, paused and tapped it two more times. This was a non-emergency call, even if his colleagues might disagree.
He still thought they could very well handle this situation without the help of his uncle.
"BABY BAT, YOU CALLED THIS IS THE FIRST TIME YOU DID!"
The present heroes watched in stunned fashion how a white haired, 20 years old man stepped out of a green portal and instantly zoomed across the room to hug THE Batman around his head rubbing his cheek against the bat's cowl mindful of the pointy parts.
And Batman was letting the man do that only looking resigned.
"We agreed that I would only call on you with this pendant for emergencies."
The white haired man only hummed before his head turned sharply and green glowing eyes narrowed at Constantine, who visibly paled and took a step back standing straight and looking very much like he regretted what he had asked Batman to do. "Trading game is not being rude to you is he?"
The bat only grunted and the white haired man finally let go of him, humming as he took in his surroundings, eyes glinting in mischievously as he saw the flickering lights, animal videos on screen and heard the blaring music over the speaker. "When I okey-ed Klarion to go playing with his cousins I didn't think he would seek you two out. He had been talking about his older cousins starting another game of 'who's the better demon lord' in different dimensions. I thought he was joining their bet."
Wait did he say two? Batman grunted and the white haired guy chuckled. "I will be back in a second."
Not even the Flash could react as fast as the white haired man disappeared and reappeared with Klarion next to him. Clearly pulling on the witch boy's ear like a father would when their child had been naughty. The flickering lights and blaring of music over the speakers had stopped.
"Ow DAD what in the name of chaos are you doing here."
"Your Cousin called me. You are disturbing his work and risking them crashing into earth with Technus' help."
"YOU SNITCHED TO MY DAD?!"
"Hn."
"Technus get out of their network or I will lock you up on a Medieval Island for three decades."
As if the present heroes weren't confused enough a face appeared on one of the screens. Glaring at the white haired man. "You wouldn't dare."
"Watch me, if you stay in there any longer. I will also dig out the old thermos and soup you additionally for a decade or more."
The face on screen grumbled and the heroes nearly flinched back as a ghostly, green skinned man came out of it, looking every bit frustrated and annoyed. "I was just getting a good look at this modern technology, you have banned me from any big shot Industries…"
"We had that discussion 100 years ago, Technus. Back to the Ghost Zone." The white haired man commanded by opening a portal next to them with the wave of his hand and surprisingly, the green skinned guy listened.
"Sorry about this Baby Bat and Little Demi. Klarion will be grounded for a bit and re-educated in how to bond without risking potentially killing any bystanders. Oh and remember I will come by later for Baby Ghost to get his checkup with Frostbite!"
"Dad, please no grounding! Anything but that!"
"I am sure your Grandpa will be happy to have your help during your grounding."
"Dad! NO! I don't want to keep time in order! I live for chaos not order!"
The man was just smiling and completely ignoring Klarion's complains as he turned towards Batman and Wonder Woman, for reasons the hero's didn't understand.
"Well we will be on our way then Baby Bat, Little Demi!"
Batman grunted and the white haired man chuckled, leaving through the portal and dragging along a whining Klarion, who apparently was that man's son.
Just before the portal closed, the man stuck his head back out looking towards Wonder Woman with a mischievous smile. "Oh before I forget! Pops Clockwork sents his regards Little Demi . He doesn't want me saying this, but he is glad about the path you choose. Says you're set on a pretty good timeline!"
The head disappeared into the portal again and it finally closed. Wonder Woman was left blinking at the empty space, her mouth slightly open with the silent question of "What?"
"Bats, who was that?" The Flash was the first to break the silence that had followed as eyes turned to the dark knight.
"His Uncle." / "The Ghost King."
Superman and Constantine spoke at the same time. The JLD member flinched back as he looked at the glowering bat. Muttering something the man took his leave or rather escaped the room as quickly as possible as Batman kept glaring. Meanwhile Wonder Woman was slowly having a crisis of her own as suddenly family relations that had been hinted to her through Pandora made sense. "Clockwork... no, Titan Cronus? The Ghost King... Uncle Daniel?"
Chaos broke among the present heroes.
"WHAT UNCLE?!"
#danny fenton#danny phantom#dp x dc#fanfic#crossover#batman#klarion#superman#wonder wonder#clockwork#john constantine#dpxdc#dcxdp#Ghost Uncle Danny#Klarion is messing with his cousins#Wonder Woman is part of the family#Klarion is Rickrolling the Watchtower#crackish#no beta wie die like danny#drabble#oh and Technus is there too
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less than tactical touch
prompt 1: hand holding
well wELL WELL!!! Look who's back at it again. Oh? What's this, you ask? Well, nothing really... just my attempt, yet again, at posting for Writingtober, or whatever. SFW Kinktober, if you will.
Yes, I'm so very behind. No, I will not catch up. You can partially count these prompts for NanoWriMo. They're definitely not being finished during the month of October. but!!! here's the first one.
it's Ghost. Yes. What about it? This year, I'm also doing something a little different in that I'm only going to be writing characters I want to write instead of randomizing a few of my favs amongst fan favs. It'll just make the writing process for me easier.
either way!! without further ado, here's a bit of touch starved ghost to kick these prompts off! I hope you enjoy :)!
Word Count: 1.7 k
The rescue went as smoothly as it could, but the rebound is showing its taxing nature. You’re incredibly tired, but Kate brought you out here to do your job. With all that's come to light in the past twelve hours— you were grateful to be on this side of things.
Finding out what happened to Ghost and Soap seriously gutted you. Hearing the report by word of mouth when Kate and Captain John Price found out what Graves and Shepard had attempted to do with Ghost, Soap, and Los Vaqueros… it makes your blood boil thinking about it now.
Laswell had told you to ‘pack your shit together’ as soon as she’d heard word from Price that they’d been successful with extracting the boys from Grave’s personal prison. That’s what you could only describe it as, the stupidity of it all. They were out and heading to a base where, apparently, you had been requested to appear at too.
You didn’t need a hint to know who had requested your being there in the first place. So, following Laswell’s directions, you quite literally packed your shit together as quickly as possible, got in a car, and you were off to the safe house.
Here, feet imprinting into the dirt floor of this other warehouse for Los Vaqueros, you weren’t waiting more than a couple of minutes before the vans arrived. The one leading holds Alejandro and the majority of his men, the next van is the one Rudy hops out of. They barely recognize your person, or don’t fully acknowledge that it’s you. Rudy might’ve lightly waved, but you weren’t sure. There was an understanding amongst everyone— the circumstances existed. There was no changing that, or them, there was going forward with them. Stakes were just different, seriously for better or for worse.
The third truck pulled up as you pushed forward to take a peek outside, observing the unfolding chaos already emitting from the first two cars. It slowed to an easy halt next to the first two vehicles, and the doors kicked out. The team members of 141 all immediately begin to pile out. Price fronts the group as always, but instead of his approachable demeanor from when you’d first met him, you swear there’s almost steam emitting from his head he’s so pissed. Gaz is behind him, slamming the truck door shut and starting to march into place behind the leader before he scans his surroundings and finds you.
Kyle’s demeanor shifts entirely, the glare shifts into something softer. He’s approaching you before he can think twice, and you’re grateful that someone like him is also present through all of this.
“Hey…” he sighs, sounding too tired. “When’d you get here?”
“Couple minutes ago.” You reply simply, tilting your head on its side. “… Is everything okay? What happened with you guys?”
Gaz is back to looking uneasy, and he averts his eyes toward the floor, “…Well—“
“It was fuckin’ Graves.” The Scottish accent angrily hisses on the other side of your head, you alarmingly turn to address it. Soap is marching on, following after Price. “Graves and Shepard, to be exact. The fuckin’ twats tried to kill us.”
“How?” You turn back to Gaz, seeing that Soap wasn’t going to stay and chat details.
“He—“
“He tried murderin’ us, that’s what.”
You barely have time to process what’s just been spoken in your direction, and your eyes are bulging wide as the six-foot-three soldier comes marching up to you and Kyle— promptly pulling you off by your arm. The only heads-up being the singular statement.
“Uh? Ah?” You start to vocalize— Gaz only helplessly watches as the large, skull-faced soldier drags you away by your upper arm. And you’re fumbling with coming up with something to say. How to interject, get him to stop. But he’s so much bigger than you, and Gaz is nowhere near his stature either.
You both watch each other as it happens, Gaz helplessly sending a single wave in your direction before turning off to follow his captain who was barking orders to get a handle on the situation. You want to be in that conversation, not dragged away and hidden which seemed to always be the goal of Ghost whenever you were both present at debriefings.
“Stop stalling,” Ghost growls, pulling your closer, “I know you can walk faster than that.”
“I— sure? But— Simon.” You pull against his grasp, and it’s very clearly not going to do anything. His fingers were still pressing marks into your wrist, a reassuring soreness. “Simon. Please?”
Your voice is softer than you expect, and it must catch him by surprise too. He let’s go, turning back and peering down at you through the eye-sockets of his skull mask. The dark eyes shadowed by the black face paint, it always captivates you in so many ways. This time, it is tender. He’s really seeing you, and you can’t grasp entirely why.
“I wasn’t there, and I’m now here. You’re here, you made it back, nothing’s happening right in this moment.” Gently, you reach your own hand in his direction. Brushing your fingers over the space in-between his tactical gear. The long sleeve is thick, but it’s warm from him, and the moment is suddenly careful. “We’re okay.”
Simon never looks away while you stay focused on his arms, and the silence isn’t anything new. He’s typically quiet, everyone knew this, but the presence in his stare holds a weight in your chest. It compels you to look back, the warmth in his stare all the more evident. It holds you there, it closes you off from the rest of the warehouse and makes it your moment together.
“…I can’t let you out of my sight.” Simon’s hand reaches for his glove, he’s ripping at the velcro and pulling the item from his palm. His veined hand stretches out once free, and it’s reaching for your bare palm as well. “It was you, in the back of my mind. Last night…”
“Simon…” you murmur, letting him take up your hand and delicately turn it over so your palm faces the ceiling. His fingers, weightless, brush over the creases in your palm. It tickles, and you sadly smile. “I’m right here. Shepard was never in contact with me.”
Reaching the edge of your palm, his hand finally clasps around your own. His touch is forever warm, and reassuring, and your heart feels like it might as well leap out of your throat. Physical touch is rare with Simon, and this isn’t the first time he’s been soft with you… but, it’s not just you two alone. There are Vaqueros, and 141, and no one’s actively paying attention, but you know that they’re there. And he knows it too. So why—
“I don’t care,” he squeezes your hand tightly, “You weren’t with me.”
“I was with Laswell.” You meekly reply, like it will help whatever turmoil Simon is feeling over the fact he was away from you.
Ghost’s head shakes in displaying Laswell wasn’t enough. He takes you in by your hand, and suddenly the towering man envelops your waist in one arm. He still holds tight to your hand, your grasps carefully remaining between your chests. You can feel your heart beating lightly against your knuckles, Ghost’s gear swallows his heartbeat in full. But he’s breathing, his shoulders are gently rising and falling with that much evidence.
Lightly closing your eyes, you press your forehead against the front of his jacket. Plastic straps slightly dig back against your skin, and his hand snakes up to gently lay against the back of your skull.
“I’m here now?” You offer softly.
“Hah,” his laugh is humorless, but the sound makes you smile. A pathetic, maybe grateful smile.
His hand squeezes against yours again, and it’s only then when your eyes sting. You both were here, and the weight of it presses down on your shoulders with a newfound emotion. It’s almost unexpected, how the sadness wells up and hits you in your sinuses. He’d clearly been prepared for the worst when he you couldn’t recognize it until now. The degree of what happened… what is now going to happen with handling the Shadows and Shepard. Moments like these were few and far between, no wonder it’s happening all like this suddenly.
Who knew when there would be time to have another moment like this. Caresses and whispers and warmth. It’s all too fleeting, and before one of you can highlight that, there’s a call from a few feet away.
“Ghost.” It’s Soap, and as you turn to look at the man who’s tone resonates with you, the shorter Scottish man frowns further. “C’mon. Price got Shepard on the line. You should listen in.”
He doesn’t wait for a reply, instead walks back in the direction from which he came. Simon is still protectively wrapped around you, and evermore slowly he begins to unravel.
His accent utters your name softly, and you reach up to place a quiet hand reassuringly on his shoulder.
“I’ll still be here when all is said and done. We are going to make it out of this together. Okay?”
You’re holding his worrisome stare, and though he looks nervous, your words make sense to him. He softly nods, leaning in and managing to angle the tip of his chin so he could press his lips through the fabric of his ski mask and lightly kiss you on your forehead.
After a brief pause, he completely pulls away. Turning back in to the Special Force member he knew was expected of him. “Right, I’ll be off then. See what Shepard has to say for himself. In the meantime—“
Simon turns back towards you to which you hold out your hand. As if to pace him. “I’ll be right there as soon as your done. Don’t worry.”
He nods again, turning forward and marching on. “Yeah. You better be, otherwise it’ll really turn into a shit show around here too.”
You snicker softly at the man’s stubbornness, but don’t say anything more. You don’t need to imagine the result of his frustrations if that was how he was going to act as soon as he laid eyes on you just moments before.
Instead of waiting around, you pull out your phone. Opening your messages with Laswell, you give her the update…
Made it, safe and sound. You made a good point on why I should be here. Someone’s happy to see me.
Laswell: Good to hear. I knew he would be. I hate to say I told you so, but… well. I definitely told you so.
You don’t hate it.
Laswell: You’re right. I don’t :)
#fanfic#oneshot#writing#x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost#ghost cod#ghost mw2#reader insert#ghost x reader#ghost call of duty#cod mw2#hand holding#sfw kinktober
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rest and recovery
prompt: "take it easy"
whumpee: john reese
fandom: person of interest
hi here's the follow-up to this fic from day 7. hope you like it!!
John wakes up and he does not know where he is or why he is there. His surroundings are strange, vaguely medical but not hospital-like. His whole body aches and breathing itself hurts, although he can feel that there’s some sort of drug pumping through his system.
He needs to get out of this room. Needs to figure out who else is nearby. Needs to know what has happened to him.
He sits up, pulls the IV out of his arm, swings his aching legs over the side of the bed.
He stands up and his body protests. Hard. His legs all but give out beneath him and his head spins and he tries to fight it off, should be able to fight it off, but everything feels awful and he only just barely manages to sink down and sit on the edge of the bed instead of hitting the floor.
His ears are ringing and everything is fuzzy and he doesn’t realize that someone else is there until there’s a hand on his arm.
He jumps, hands instinctively reaching around him for something, anything to use as a weapon, and then -
“Take it easy, Mr. Reese. It’s only me.”
Finch.
The fight drains out of him and he relaxes quickly. If Finch is here, everything is more or less okay. He’s safe, that much is certain.
“I’m sorry I startled you. That was rather foolish of me.”
John shakes his head. “I should have known you were here.” Why hadn’t he realized someone else was in the room?
“You’ve been through quite an ordeal,” Finch says. “It’s perfectly understandable that your senses aren’t operating at their usual capacity.”
He should be fine, shouldn’t be weak like this, no matter what Finch says about his having been through an ordeal, which in any case he does not remember at all.
“I need to -” Need to stand up and get out of here, need to get back to work, need to be fine.
Finch stops him, seeming to know exactly what it is he’s thinking. “The only thing you need to do is rest and let yourself heal. The Machine and I can manage on our own for a little while longer.”
He doesn’t - he should be fine. Should refuse to lie around uselessly when he’s awake, healing process be damned.
But despite his mind’s insistence that he should be getting up right this very second, his body is exhausted and hurting. And beneath his deeply ingrained training, there is a person who, though he himself does not remember it, has very recently been close to death.
“You’re sure?” He both wants and does not want what Finch is offering. He needs to know if everything will really be okay without him.
“I’m sure. Rest, John.”
Finch puts a hand on his shoulder, gentle and certain, and John, without fully knowing why, does as he says.
thanks for reading!! with that i am now a whumptober completionist for five years straight! i cannot believe i made it through the month and i also cannot believe how long it's been since i first started doing this event...it's crazy tbh. i had a great time writing this month and i hope you enjoyed whichever of my fics you happened to read! love you all <33333
#whumptober2023#no.31#take it easy#person of interest#fic#john reese#medical#beat up#my writing#i say things#also i am 21 tomorrow woahhhh#does not feel like my birthday tbh but. it is very soon.#although funnily because of the time i was born at home and the time difference where i am now i won't Turn 21 until the day after my bday#but yeah. crazy how time flies and things change like when i started whumptober i was 16 and kind of miserable and not a very good writer#and now i'm in my 20s straight vibing and am at least a decent writer perhaps#ok. enough of that. love you!!
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For your 25th -- Khanolly, blue, 1
A few years ago I had written a personality/character swap Khanolly fic called "Reconsidering Plans" and I decided to write a prequel to it for this prompt. Enjoy!
Revelations - Molly deduces that John found out about her past, but by the end of their conversation, neither seems to care about it too much.
READ @ AO3 | SERIES PAGE
"Are you the villain?"
"Depends on who you ask." Molly turned from her workstation to look at the lieutenant posing the question. John Harrison was attractive, albeit in a more...odd sense. The blue of his science officer’s uniform reflected his eyes in their dreamlike color. She’d noticed that first when he was assigned to assist her at the Kelvin Archives, though it was more of a partnership these days. But he must have found out her true identity, somehow. And thus the question he had just asked. “What is it exactly that you want to know, John?”
“How many people have you killed?”
“Thousands, I think. I never cared to keep track.” She shrugged. “It was what I was born and bred to do as an augment. I did it without much thought at first, and then when I realized me and mine were being manipulated…”
“Like you are now?”
“At least now, no one remembers the wrath of destruction wrought by Kate Noonien Singh. I have some privacy. Or I did until you found out about my past.”
“Why do you have an Indian surname?”
“Because the scientist who was in charge of my development was the only person who was...nice...to me. When we began forming personalities of our own, I chose her last name as an honor to her. She never lived to see it, though.” Molly frowned. “And now I’m Margaret Hooper. Who the hell knows where that name came from.”
John leaned against the door frame. “I like Molly better.”
Molly raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re a strange one, Harrison. You know about my bloody past and you still want me to answer to that soft nickname of yours?”
“It suits you. Kate does too.” He paused. “I won’t tell anyone.”
“I know you won’t. You’re loyal to Starfleet, but you’re also in love with me.”
John pulled away from the door, sputtering slightly. “I am...I am not!”
“You are, you know it and I know it.” She turned back to the work she was doing. “We should do something about that.”
“Like what?”
“Sexual intercourse.”
“Or how about a kiss first? I mean, let’s just not start a relationship over the fact I have a small crush on you.” He moved closer to her, and she had to admit, there were worse ways to spend her time than by kissing an attractive man. She stood up to her full height, which was still at least a head shorter than John, and pulled him in for a passionate kiss. He was stunned for a moment but almost immediately recovered and kissed her back with a ferocity and passion she may have underestimated. She allowed herself to be lost in the kisses and in the back of her mind she had to admit, maybe she has a small crush on him too.
#star trek aos#sherlock#khanolly#khan x molly#fanfic#fanfiction#khan noonien singh#molly hooper#my stuff#afteriwake's 25th Anniversary Prompt-A-Thon
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for the fic prompt: "Black Holes and Revaluations"? Thanks!
Send me a fake fic title, and I'll tell you what I would write about it!
I just learned a new word today :)
Also, this title RULES!!!
SO!
Here comes another character study one!!
It starts off with saying something along the lines of, "a black hole is a place in space with mass great enough to consume everything around it", but probably more flowery, idk. And then something along the lines of, "Because it contains so many things, does that make it valuable? Does it increase in value everytime it adds to its mass? Is the worth of something the amount of things it holds or the quality of the thing itself?"
Then it gets into Merle's first few meetings with John, and his reflection on them about how it went and his opinion of John, which in the beginning is very antagonistic, obviously, and he's just thinking about how much the Hunger has already consumed and how much more it will consume in the future and how John finds value in that because it gets him closer to reaching his goals.
Then there's like, basically a montage of Merle's continued visits with John and how their relationship grows, and how the more he gets to know John, the more he considers him a friend and sees him as a person who is lost and depressed and taking it out on everything and everyone and most of all, someone who needs help. And he's convinced that the way to stop the Hunger is through helping John.
And John gets better as time goes on. He laughs more, talks to Merle for longer periods of time before killing him, they have full conversations eventually before they ask each other the one question they each get before the meeting is over. Of course there are hiccups where John is like, I'm still going to kill you and your family and it would be easier on everyone if y'all just gave up, but Merle knows he's wearing him down little by little.
Then in their last meeting, Merle is heartbroken when John gives that whole speach about how love and joy are fleeting and don't matter because he felt like he was so close. He thought that this would be the conversation that could turn from We Are Actively Working Against Each Other to I Know You Need Help And I Care About You So Please Let Me Try. But John pulls away and basically spits in his face and on all the hard work he's done to try to reach him, and he snaps at John, and then the next cycle, after he tells everyone that he's not going back, he lays in his bunk and wishes he didn't snap at him because he knows now that he can't help him because he can't force him to get better or even to see a problem that John forcefully believes isn't there. So if that really is the last time they talked, it sucks and feels wrong that it ended in anger and hatred and not with an understanding Let Me Know When You're Ready Because I'll Still Be Here When You Are
And basically the moral of the story is he found more value in John as he is than in the Hunger as an entity that consumes everything it touches. Which will be incorporated more in the actual writing of it lol
#thank you for sending this in!! :D#I'm super excited about this one now :3#taz#taz balance#taz fanfic#sort of#merle highchurch#john hunger#written works of Gab#kind of#stolen century
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Part Three: No Room For Fear
Part Three: No Room For Fear
Vox Machina characters Created by Critical Role
Dark Tower created By Stephen King [Funerary Prayer]
Annie and Declan, Serendipity Johns and Galen Allgood created by Melissa C. Scraper @whoviancumberbunny
Title from Title Prompts by @youneedsomeprompts
Used This Prompt and this one by @seaside-writings
Part One: Stand and Be True
Part Two: Ne’er-Do-Wells and Insufferable Bastards
They were on the edge of the village that Chroma Conclave had taken over and, Roland joined them, as Tet-Fa [Friend of the group]. It was clear to him and that both Annie and Percy were the Dinhs, as they sat around come up with a plan he pulls her to the side and put the Horn of Eld in her hand “Da, Gan gave this to you.”
He looked at her trying to hide the fact that in the short few weeks he had been In the life of his daughter he had seen that she was a Gunslinger. Never mind that to parts of the world she is a thief. “May Luck Rise to meet us all.” He looked at her “Don’t be like me my child. I have spent my whole life not listening to those around me.” He had seen three figures of young adults hiding on the other side of town. Time would tell if these people were good or not, they would be people Annie knew well.
Percy looked at her, the Horn of Eld, like so many other things he had believed that was only legend. Like the vestments, he blushed as Annie looked at him. Maybe it was just that he felt he was undeserving of love , then of course that was also because the demon might kill those around him. Last time she had managed to stop him before he had killed an innocent person “Darling, you should just tell her.” Vex said breaking his concentration “Everyone can see it. Even her father sees.”
“Oh Dawn Father, I am not sure what to do with my heartbox,” he hadn’t realized he had started peppering his speaking with the high speech she had been teaching him.
“All I am saying is let me be annoying?” Scanlan said
Pike “No these are dangerous dragons.”
After Coming up with a battle plan, they study the area a short time later as Vox fights off the dragon “Great work, asshole; I hope they eat you first!” Vax said as he and Scanlan dodge flames and deadly acid
On the other side of the town Female figure staring at one of the two male figures. “It doesn’t matter if we kill it; it will just keep coming back,” she nearly pushed him off the cliff “Sorry, Galen.” She grabs his hand
Male figure you would assume is a ranger by his bow and arrow “And so will we,” he takes out an arrow his father killed dragon with “we wait for a signal and we join In the fight.”
Galen “But Peter, we don’t know what kind of signal to pay attention for. Shaun Gilmore only told us to Meet Annie here because she would need help saving Declan and several other people.” Galen Allgood, and his cousin Serendipity Johns part of the last generation of Gunslingers of Gilead.
Peter, who is friends with Annie because she saved his life because warriors of the red had tried to kill him in his sleep just after he escaped from prison “I wouldn’t be known as Good King Peter, if she hadn’t helped me last year.” Peter, Age 18 years, framed for the murder of his Father and served three years in prison. Tall and slender if he hadn’t been king he likely would have been gunslinger.
“If we get out of this alive you need to tell Declan you love him, Galen.”
“No, he probably doesn’t see me that way.”
Peter raises his hand to quiet them as they hear a sound that was unfamiliar yet felt like call to arms, Annie had blown the Horn of Eld. “Here we go.”
On the battlefield, The members of Vox machina had never heard the sound before but something about sound the horn of eld made them focus and become more coordinated.
Annie “Percy! Canda!”
Percy looks at everyone “Spread out!” Suddenly an arrow shoots past them into the heart of the dragon “Where did that come from?”
Annie “Foehammer? Good King Peter how did you know we’d need back up?”
“Will explain that later Lady Annie.” The man said as absent mindedly ran his finger along the scar on his cheek.
“Scanlan, we need you to be annoying so we can untie the prisoners.” Annie said
Percy shot a few low level dragons “They are not attacking Annie .”
Thordak “The Female gunslinger who came with Vox Machina smells of the Queen of the Great Worms.”
“I am getting tired of monsters saying I smell like Lady Dragon. Your Minions took my brother so I am here to rescue him and the others.” She said as her eyes briefly the color of her spirit guide.
“The human with the soul of a dragon. We didn’t think she existed.” The chroma conclave stops in their tracks
“I don’t want to kill you. I just want my brother. Leave!”
After the smoke clears “We found this In the dragon’s cave, Milady. We think it belongs to you.”
Roland “Crown of Eld.”
“I am no ruler. I am a Gunslinger. Thankee for returning this to my family.” Annie replied
Later at the Keep “Percy, you asked about the gem embedded in the grip of my gun.” She said after Declan retrieves his own gun “Our grandfather, Steven gave us each one of these just before he was killed. Mother kept them safe for us and she gave them to use just before her own death.”
Declan looks Percy up and down, “He’s kind of skinny.”
“So are you brother.” They hug each other “you are just jealous I have boyfriend first.” She blushes “everyone this tall dork here is my twin brothers Declan. That idiot over there is our best friend, Galen Allgood and his cousin Serendipity Johns. This is King Peter of Delain.”
“Before you ask, I am not ranger. My father taught me to hunt from a young age. This arrow, foe hammer was used to kill a dragon with nine cambered and I was conceived after my father killed the dragon.” Peter explained as he cleaned foe hammer. He goes over to Annie “You left this in Delain.” Hands her medallion engraved with the crest of the Delain, a unicorn slaying a dragon with its horn.
“I told you I didn’t do it for recognition. I did it because Ka willed it.” She takes the crest, she really didn’t want to be seen as champion of Delain. She sticks it in her bag. It wasn’t humility, everything she did she did because it felt right.
“Wait….you just said I am your boyfriend.” Percy said as he walked over to Declan and Annie, Annie blushed “I admit to having feelings….of love but I worry my darkness will hurt you.”
Annie places her hand on his cheek “Percival De Rolo. Stop being a twat. I can tell you want to keep from hurting me but you know almost everything about me and now you have met my family and best friends. If you want I can have Declan punch you in the face.” She grinned
He kisses her gently on the lips “Why didn’t Croma Conclave attack you?”
“Lady Dragon, she is their queen. They called me the human with the soul of a dragon.” Annie said
King peter “You all have an invitation to the reaping festival in Delain.” He grinned “Lady annie matched me In the reaping festival archery contest. I happen to think she lost on purpose.”
“That may be true, friend. But Declan did the same thing. Neither one of use wanted to be better than you. We were just keeping our skills sharp.”
“I knew that when I saw that his arrow went through the heart of the skinwalker that jumped us last year.” They sit around telling stories
“Galen screamed louder than we did.”
“No I didn’t.”
When Annie gets up to stretch her legs, Percy follows her “Does Galen have romantic feelings for your brother?”
“they are both really bad at pretending it. I knew if he was told Declan was in danger he would come. I just Didn’t think peter would leave Delain. He’s been working hard to regain the trust of his village since Walter O’Dim , framed him for murder and used his brother, Thomas as puppet ruler to tax people of Delain .”
“I wondered why you never mentioned courting anyone. It is because the only men in your life are people you know wouldn’t betray you. I promise you I will do my best to be worthy of the trust you give me. What is a skin walker, again?”
“in this region they are called lycanthropes. They tear the host apart from the inside.” She shivered “I didn’t sleep for three days after we fought the skinwalkers.” She rested her head against his chest “For most of our lives Declan and I have needed to be strong for ourselves. It is not easy for us to let our defenses down.” She places her hand on his chest “Your heart and your mind don’t need to be two different things Percival.” When he gently takes her hand in a single move he puts ring he made for her on her finger
“It is a promise. That when the time is right I will ask you to be my wife. The time is not now.” She looks at it and it has the crest of his family on it “I added the seal of eld to it too. I want to follow the way of the beam with you. If you will let me Annie.”
“It brought me to you, until you are rid of your darkness you can’t handle the Dark Tower.| she stopped just before saying, on her previous time loop only she and Roland had survived Can Ka-No Rey, in the previous time loops she ahd needed to call out the names of all the people sitting around the fire “She and read the funeral rites 13 times before reaching the tower. She’d be damned if she had to watch them all fall to the Crimson King again “the other involved were still on keystone earth living their lives mostly unaware of what had already happened save for one, the son of the demon king, her friend Magnus. Why had gan given only her Annie her memories back, at least she assumed she was the only one who could remember bit and pieces of the four previous time loops. The third time loops she was married to king peter and that was all she could remember. It couldn’t happen again and she’d be damned if she let vox machina die to ensure that the tower would remain standing “What is Can Ka-No Rey?” she finally heard percy asking
“It is the field of roses around the dark tower. They have razor sharp thorns they beckon to be picked but they kill whomever touches them.” She looked at him “Why?”
“When you fainted after we met your father. You were muttering about it and calling out my name in your sleep?”
“Let’s go for a walk.” as they walk “Remember I told you my father is in a time loop my existence created separate time loops and as far I can recall they have converged at least four times already. You asked me why I wrote down your name.” she looks down “In the previous time line when I had to call out the names of everyone I lost. I couldn’t remember yours. It is the reason why you canlt remember we have met before. When gunslinger reaches the top of the tower time resets. But Gan resets it to different point In the time and places everyone in different places.”
They nearly jump when they hear Roland’s voice “My journey was my choice and it has always been, Anastasia. I can see your friends would follow you to end world and back. You have allowed yourself the thing it took me centuries to allow myself, to let people help me. You on the other hand let people help you all the time. I remember that day too. You couldnlt remember percy’s name at the the base of the tower and that’s what broke your spirit.”
Another When at the base of the Dark Tower, as the menacing eyes of Crimson king stare them down “I am Anastasia Gabrielle Jenna Delgado Deschain De Rolo, I offer you the names of the fallen as entry.
Declan Alaric William Delgado Deschain, My brother and fellow Gunslinger, Serendipity Johns, Gunslinger, Galen Allgood, Jenna of Eluria, Susan DelGado, ……
“Damn it why did his name have to be so long.” She fell to her knees looked into Can Ka-No Rey. He had came this for with her and for her and she couldn’t present his name to the tower. “Percy forgive me. I never wanted you to be lost in the void. She could hear the death nill coming from “I wasn’t strong enough to not lose anyone this time.
Present day “Forgive me. As soon as Da appeared in the cave it…. the end of the previous timeline came flooding back to me. I realized I was leading everyone to possible death again. Forgive me.” She felt her leg buckle but Percy caught her
“We are not in the todash space anymore. Look at me, your father is right his path is not your path. Gods know why you even thought his journey was your responsibility.” He takes a handkerchief out his pocket gently wipes away her tears “You saved me. Let me protect you.” She rested her head on his shoulder, as he scoops her up to carry her over to the fire “If she didnlt call out my name how am I here.”
Roland “I did. I couldn’t let you lose her how I keep loosing her mother.”
Another when as his daughter sat collapsed feelings emotionally defeated he repeaeated the name she had listed along with the names of his friends and finally “Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III!” as the door swung open “Anastasia you can come with me if you want.”
“No Da. Not this time I going to give them the death rites.” It would take her three days to bury everyone. “Time flies, knells call, life passes, so hear my prayer.
Birth is nothing but Death begun, so hear my prayer.
Death is speechless, so hear my speech.
This is my friend, who served his ka and his tet. Say true.
May the forgiving glance of S'Mana heal his heart. Say please.
May the arms of Gan raise him from the darkness of this earth. Say please.
Surround him, Gan, with light.
Fill him, Chloe, with strength.
If he is thirsty, give him water in the clearing.
If he is hungry, give him food in the clearing.
May his life on this earth and the pain of his passing become as a dream to his waking soul, and let his eyes fall upon every lovely sight;
Let him find the friends that were lost to him, and let everyone whose name he calls call his in return.
This is my friend, who lived well, loved his own, and died as ka would have it.
Each man owes Death. This is my friend. Give him peace.” She placed his pepperbox on his grave “If ka wills it we will meet again Percival.”
Present day…. “Thank You, Roland. May Gan always hold you in his favor.”
“We are well met Percy De Rolo III. This is your path. You are meant for better things than I ever was, Lady De Rolo.”
“He was having conversation with Lady Dragon.” She said as they sat down and her father continued his journey alone
To Be Continued
Wednesday, February 1st. 2023
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A Pitch Black Room, A Velvet Ribbon, A Secret Box
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This was my first year doing NaNoWriMo. It started as a writing prompt (the title is literally just the prompt) and it's a collection of short stories from many different peoples' perspectives linked by various objects. I won this year but never looked back at it. In fact, I am kind of embarrassed by it but I try to remind myself I was literally a child. Instead of being broken up into chapters, it's broken into characters.
Written in November 2016
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Part 2, John
“Oo, look! It’s pitch black in here!”
“Better hope there ain’t nothing livin’ in there, John!” Ronald called, following behind him “My pa told me rats can grow big ‘nuff to take your fingers off in these abandoned houses.”
“There ain’t no rats in these parts.” Replied John as entered the room “The people who lived here last ain’t never even once so much as called the pest control people.”
“Yeah, but how long ago was that?” The last boy, Reuel, asked.
“I dunno. A few years, I guess. My dad said this house hasn’t had a person who lived in it for more than a few months since he was a kid himself. ‘Parently, someone had it for years, then sold it. No one’s stuck ‘round for long ever since.”
“It’s probably haunted.” Reuel said matter-of-factly “That’s the only reason so many people are afeared of it.”
“It is not.” John shot at him “Don’t ya think we’d’ve heard ‘bout that by now if it was? We’d know if anyone was killed here or somethin’ like that.”
“I dunno,” Ronald said “Sam told me ‘bout some spooky stuff happenin’ ‘round here.”
“Sam’s always seein’ spooky stuff.” John scoffed “He probably never actually been inside, though.”
“What’re ya expectin’ t’ find in this dump anywho, John?” Ronald asked “If nobody’s been here for so long, there’d be nothin’ to find.”
“Abandoned houses are the best for findin’ hidden treasure, ya idiot.” John snapped.
“I ain’t an idiot!” Ronald cried “You’re the--”
“Cool it, will ya?” Reuel interrupted “He don’t mean nothin’ he says. Jus’ let him alone.”
“What makes ya think there’d be treasure here, anywho?” Ronald asked, crossing his arms unhappily “Did ya find a map, or somethin’?”
“Who needs a map?”
“We need a map.”
“Says who?”
“Says me.”
“Oh, yeah? Who’s in charge, here?”
“How are ya goin’ find hidden treasure without a map or anythin’?”
“We don’t need no map.”
“Hey, I found somethin’!” Reuel called in excitement from the other side of the room. The other boys instantly stopped their bickering and clamored over to him.
“What’s ya find?” John asked in anticipation.
“Some sort of string or somethin’.” Reuel answered, pulling the ribbon up from under some of the floorboards. The boys gasped in excitement and quarreled over taking turns to examine it.
“This ain’t no string!” Ronald cried when it was finally his turn to hold it “This is one of them ribbons girls wear in in their hair! What use is a ribbon that’s got girl cooties all over it?”
“It’s goin’ lead us to the treasure whether it belonged to a girl or not!” John said, snatching the ribbon back.
“How’s it suppos’ t’ do that?” Ronald asked.
“There’s probably some secret cipher or somethin’ hidden on it.” John answered.
“What’s a kifper?” Ronald asked, cocking his head to the side.
“Kinda like a code.” Reuel explained.
“There’s a secret message on here.” John restated “We jus’ gotta find it.”
“And decipher it.” Reuel added flatly.
“Why’d we want t’ decider somethin’ if we found it with a cider in the first place?” Ronald asked, scratching his head.
“Can ya read words in code?”
“No.”
“That’s why.”
“Oh.”
“We need t’ find where the code is on this thing.” John said, turning the ribbon over and over in his hands “Come on, let’s get a look at it.” The three of them sat down on the dusty floor in a circle and John placed the ribbon in the center of them.
“It would help we had some light or somethin’.” Ronald said.
“Use your head, will ya?” John snapped at him “If we take it out of here, someone else is gonna see it and find out the the code before us. We’d never get t’ find the treasure.”
“Alright, alright.” Ronald grumbled. Reuel picked up the ribbon first and ran his fingers over the soft velvet. There was silence for a bit, then he tossed it back into the center.
“I don’t feel nothin’ weird ‘bout it.” He concluded, crossing his arms.
“How d’ya know what a girl’s ribbon feels like?” John asked.
“I don’t.” He replied sharply.
“Then, how d’ya know there’s nothin’ weird ‘bout it?”
“I jus’ know.”
“How else could we find a code, John?” Ronald asked.
“How’m I s‘posed to know?” John cried “All I know is that there’s a cipher hidden somewheres on this ribbon and it’ll lead us to the treasure!”
“But, if we can’t find a cipher, how can we get it t’ lead us t’ the treasure?” Reuel asked.
“We jus’ have t’ figger it out.” John said firmly “It’s probably gonna take plenty of time, though.”
“How else would a cipher be hidden on a ribbon?” Reuel asked. The boys started brainstorming, moving the ribbon from hand to hand between them. Ideas were tossed back and forth, tested, then debunked. They did everything they thought of, but soon it was time for them to get back home.
“We need s’more time t’ think ‘bout it, that’s all.” John said as he lead the other two out of the house. They had tucked the ribbon back between the floorboards where Reuel had found it and hoped no one would come looking around and find it.
“I’m gonna ask my pa ‘bout sliphers.” Ronald announced “See if he’s got any ideas.”
“Ya are not gonna ask your pa.” John said in a warning tone.
“Why not?” Ronald whined.
“Ya can’t let no one know ‘bout the ribbon or the treasure.” John said authoritatively.
“It won’t stay a secret if ya go ‘round blabbing ‘bout it to everyone.” Reuel put in.
“Well, shoot, I wasn’t gonna blab to everyone!” Ronald claimed “I jus’ wanted to ask my pa if he had any ideas!”
“Well, ya can’t tell no one ‘bout it.” John said “When we find the treasure, ya can tell your pa, but not before.”
“Alright, alright,” Ronald grumbled “It’s gonna take forever t’ figger out the slipher, then.”
“For the last time, it’s cipher.” Reuel said, rolling his eyes.
“And it don’t matter how long it’ll take us, we ain’t tellin’ no one.” John said “The treasure is ours and I want to make sure it stays that way.”
~*~
John had gotten to the pitch black room first and waited impatiently for the others to get there. He hadn’t a clue as to how to extract the cipher from the ribbon and he was counting on the others to bring fresh ideas. Though he was “in charge”, as he liked to remind the others constantly, he was often at a loss without them. Reuel, with his complacent and easy going attitude, brought most of the intelligence to the group. Ronald often looked at things in a very basic manner, easily solving problems the other two would overthink. He also had a tendency to ask stupid questions, which made John feel better when he could answer them without thinking. The three of them worked well together (ignoring their minor bickers and bantering over small things) and complemented the others’ weaknesses. John turned when he heard someone coming into the room behind him.
“Ron’s not here, yet?” Reuel asked, sitting next to John.
“Nope.” He answered.
“His pa’s probably askin’ him why he’s goin’ out so late.”
“Well, if he tells him ‘bout the ribbon, I’ll bash his head in.”
“I didn’t tell nobody.” An offended voice came from the doorway. Ronald came and sat with the other two, arms crossed.
“Ya can’t blame us for wantin’ t’ be cautious.” Reuel said.
“Yeah, you’re the one wantin’ t’ tell everyone and their dog ‘bout--”
“I don’t want t’ tell no one!” Ronald cried “I jus’ said--”
“Shut it, will ya, and let’s get started.” John said “Now, what’d ya think we could do t’ find the secret code?”
“Well, I was thinkin’ ‘bout how we found it under the floorboards.” Reuel said “What if the message was under them, too?”
“And the ribbon was jus’ t’ mark the place, huh?” John said thoughtfully “That might be it. Let’s take a look.” The boys scrambled over to where they had left the ribbon the night before.
“How we s’posed t’ get them boards up?” Ronald asked “We ain’t got a scewdiver or nothin’.”
“They’s loose already.” John said, poking them with his toes “If we can squish our fingers ‘round ‘em, we might be able to pull ‘em up.”
“They are pretty spacious ‘tween the boards.” Reuel contemplated. The boys dropped to their knees and wedged their fingers between the boards and wiggled and pulled with all their might. Eventually, a board was loosened and came up a little.
“Lookit! Lookit!” Ronald cried in joy “We getting the boards up!”
“Stop clamourin’ and help.” John snapped. Together, the boys were able to pry the board, along with a few nails, off and peered into a shallow hole.
“There ain’t nothin’ there.” Ronald whined.
“Ya ain’t lookin’ close ‘nuff.” John said “Here, put your hand down there and feel ‘round for a bit.”
“I ain’t puttin’ my hand in that hole! Glory knows what kinda critters are livin’ down in there!”
“I’ll do it, ya big sissy.” Reuel scoffed, reaching his hand into the hole.
“I ain’t a sissy!” Ronal yelled “You’re--”
“Shut up.” John cut him off “Find anythin’?”
“Nah, there’s jus’ dirt and crud down here.”
“Well, shoot, the code must be on that ribbon, then.” Ronald said.
“And we’re right back t’ where we started, John.” Reuel added, pulling his hand out of the hole.
“Give me a minute t’ think, will ya?” He said irritably, picking up the ribbon again.
“D’ya think there might be somethin’ else ‘round the room that might help us?” Ronald asked.
“It won’t hurt nothin’ to look.” Reuel answered with a shrug. The boys began to scour the corners of the room, brushing aside cobwebs and dust. After a few minutes, they came back to the center.
“There ain’t nothin’ here.” Reuel said in disgust.
“We ain’t never gonna find that treasure!” Ronald cried in horror.
“Now, cool down for a minute.” John said “Why would there be a ribbon in the middle of an old abandoned house when there’s nothin’ else?”
“Maybe someone jus’ left it.” Reuel said with a shrug.
“Nah, they put it here a’purpose.” John said “That’s why the rest of the house is empty. We’re jus’ gonna have to find out what’s goin’ on with the ribbon.”
“My pa’s gonna be wantin’ me back home soon, John.” Ronald said “How we s’posed t’ find the code b’fore I gotta go home?”
“I know.” John said, snapping his fingers “We’re gonna have t’ take turns takin’ it home and keep tryin’ to figger it out. I’ll be first, of course.”
“Why do ya always get to be first?” Ronald whined.
“‘Cause I’m in charge, that’s why.”
“But you're always first. Can’t I be first for once?”
“And have you tellin’ everyone ‘bout the treasurer? I don’t think so.”
“Come on, John, I won’t tell nobody!” Ronald pleaded “I won’t even tell my pa nothin’ ‘bout the treasure, or the ribbon, or the house--”
“Best let him so he shuts up.” Reuel breathed to John, who sighed.
“Do you swear that ya won’t tell a soul ‘bout any of this?” John interrogated solemnly.
“I swear, John!” Ronald cried in earnest.
“Cross your heart and hope to die?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“Stick a needle in your eye?”
“Yes, John! I ain’t gonna let anyone get our treasure!”
“Fine,” John said, handing him the ribbon “but I get it next and you’d better come up with some good ideas.”
“I will, John, I will!” Ronald cried, clutching the ribbon in excitement. He turned and ran off, leaving John and Reuel to walk slowly to their own homes.
“D’ya really think there’s a treasure, John?” Reuel asked as they walked in the cool night air.
“What does it matter?” John asked with a shrug “It’s the hunt that’s the fun part, after all.”
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Unit 5: Science, and the pleasure of not knowing.
One of the things I’ve enjoyed the most about this course so far is the fact that it gives me the opportunity to take an hour or so, listen to a bit of music (usually Elton John), and reflect on a topic which I enjoy - the natural world and our role in it. Sometimes the writing is a little more rushed than I would like (like tonight), and sometimes I don’t fully connect with the prompt, but the process of coming up with five or six hundred words to try and tell a story is always fascinating and rewarding. Having a week where the prompt is a bit of free association is not only a lovely reprieve from studying for midterms, but also lets me reflect on the semester up till now, and look back on what I’ve learned so far.
This week’s lesson finally tackled the part of environmental interpretation that I love the most: the science! While I will always be pulled by the arts as much as by the sciences, when it comes to the natural world, I find that looking at it through an inquisitive, scientific lens to be the most fulfilling. In previous posts, I’ve alluded to figures who have had an influence on me in terms of environmental interpretation: David Attenborough, the Kratts, Steve Irwin, Bill Nye, the Mythbusters, Jane Goodall, Carl Sagan, Jay Ingram, Ziya Tong, Dan Riskin, Richard Feynman, Hank Green… the list goes on for days.
The unifying feature of all of these individuals is their clear breadth of knowledge and enthusiasm for sharing it. In particular, Professor Richard Feynman was famous for his ability to explain complex ideas simply, and the adage about not truly understanding something until you can explain it to a child is variously attributed to him, and whether he was the first person to say it or not, he certainly lived his academic life by this principle. Feynman’s socratic ability to dissect very complex ideas such as magnetism or quantum physics into digestible chunks that can then be further broken down into simpler and simpler questions, such as in this example. In this example too, he makes a very important point about the nature of interpretation.
The interviewer at the beginning of the seven and a half minute clip asks why magnets repel one-another when in one orientation but are attracted to one-another when one is flipped around. After about six minutes of explanation about why this is both such an interesting and important question, Feynman finally ends up admitting that because the audience doesn’t have a certain amount of prior knowledge in physics, he can’t explain the concepts in any way they understand, meaning that he doesn’t truly understand the concept. This is an important part of being an environmental interpreter - knowing when the audience will be receptive to a deep dive into the details and facts and tangents, and knowing when to split the difference and make a slight simplification or generalisation or admission that, in fact, you don’t know, in order to improve overall understanding.
The last point, the admission that you don't know something, is one of the most important tools an interpreter has. Being able to confidently say that I am not sure of the answer to a question can be a joyful and exciting experience, because it means there is something to discover, and even more questions to ask and answer.
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That anon again. Thank you for listening to my rambling. And if it matters any, Joseph gets plenty of chances to Suffer during my dep's canon. Because we're (plural because this is all from an RP verse my best friend and I have where she plays Joseph and a 'John fucker' GFH while I play my dep and John) bitches like that and can't let the Seed boys get away with being the worst without suffering for it. (1/?)
A major theme of Joe and Dep's relationship is 'be careful what you wish for' since he spends a good early portion of things wanting to change her to fit his whims (for her 'own good' of course), but oops, he gets attached to who she is but by the time he realizes it, his actions are already responsible for her having begun to change for the worse. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, Joseph. Now suffer. And I'm rambling again, but I had another question to ask. Two actually.
First: how did you first get comfortable with sharing Syb with the rest of tumblr? I ask because part of me is tempted to do this with my Dep, but the other part of me is scared of being perceived and judged for my dep, my interpretations of characters, etc. Two: With Augustine becoming Faith, did Joseph specifically pull this to punish Syb? Because I'm getting big 'you took my family member, now I take yours' vibes. And it sounds about right and petty and fucked up enough for Joe. (3/3)
f;lakdjfaldfkj that's TOTALLY FAIR i sure as hell don't let jacob off easy either fal;dfjkadf
and OOF well...to answer question 1: i've been shouting about my ocs into the void of the internet for the past several years (got started in the dragon age fandom, moved to the general dnd fandom, and ended up here) having friends already on tumblr/in the fandom space to share ideas and bounce off of certainly helps. it's for sure scary!, but tbh? the more you talk about them the more curious people will get. at least that's been my experience. and then of course, engaging with other people who have their own ocs, rb-ing their art/fic/sending asks for ask games and prompt lists are a great way to kind of find your place in the fandom/community and make friends! And to address your fear of being judged for your dep/interpretations of characters, i'll just say this: fandom would be boring if everyone had the exact same interpretation of the characters and it's ok to disagree with an interpretation as long as you're not a dick about it, yk? And, just like people irl, everyone's deputy is different and adds to the fandom!
my advice: do whatever you feel most comfortable doing. make your characters in picrews and do those uquizes! I normally open tag, so if you see one from me that you like! tag me! this includes wip wednesdays/whenevers too if you ever feel brave enough to share any writing you have! BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY, you are your oc's number one fan! if (god forbid, and i've never seen this happen personally) someone doesn't like them and has the gall, the sheer audacity to say that to your face? block them. have fun with your oc is what i'm getting at. they're your little barbie/bratz/whatever doll that inspires the most nostalgia for you. we're all just playing little games, telling little stories and dressing up our personal blorbos however we want. :)
as for question 2:
ahh.. poor sweet Augustine. So, Augustine is a park ranger who was on duty at the Whitetails Ranger Station the night of the Reaping and was injured in a pretty nasty fall. One of his coworkers (another oc, Shaw) is one of Jacob's Chosen (who spent a lot of time undercover as a civilian), and after hearing that the Deputy escaped, he essentially lets Jacob know that they have a piece of leverage against her. He's sent to Joseph to heal, where he's very subtley and slowly indoctrinated into the cult. He keeps Augustine hidden from Syb and he also keeps it secret that Syb is the one causing misery to the Cult/newfound family Augustine has found himself welcomed into (as much as he and syb love each other, they're not perfect and uh...there are some abandonment issues there). anyway, i'm still kind of ironing out the details of it all, but essentially, after john and faith are neutralized (john dead and faith/rachel safe and getting clean) jacob and joseph are like, "alright, time to use our secret weapon." Syb knows they have Augustine at this point, but she's under the impression that he's a prisoner, not a member of the cult.
So they meet up on neutral ground (i'm thinking tanami island) only instead of a loving and wholesome reunion, Syb finds out that her brother drank the kool-aid and Augustine finds out that his sister is the one causing the "unnecessary" violence plaguing the Project (which also, Joseph is very careful to shield Augustine from the actual violence, and paints the Project as a much more peaceful organization than it actually is). Anyway, cult tactics win over in Augustine's head and he turns against Syb, and given the power vacuum in the Henbane and his *ahem* closeness to Joseph, he's offered the mantle of Herald/Brother Faith. And. Yeah. It's definitely a method to punish/break Syb, and it's also a way to reward Augustine for his loyalty. Even she wouldn't kill or arrest her own brother. That reunion with her brother is the beginning of Syb's breaking point, and everything after that is just her slipping into misery, helplessness, and despair. everything about this is exploitative as hell :)
#faldjkfadf i'm sorry this got so long. again i hope i answered your questions#i've been in fandom (both actively and lurking) since 2011 and i have very few fucks to give#which makes sharing 'cringe' things like ocs and x reader fics SIGNIFICANTLY easier#but i also understand that's not an easy thing for everyone#but genuinely: fuck what other people think and have fun
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Fake SamBucky fans: We love Sam and Bucky as a couple if Steve can't have him in Canon. He's not white or a woman. But until someone better comes along, Sam will do. 😅
Me:
I ship SamBucky because Sam choose on his own to search for Bucky after how badly they treated each other with Sam dropkicking Bucky on the street and Bucky ripping off Sam's wings before kicking him off the hellicarrier.
Sam literally went from 'I don't think he's the kind you save. He's the kind you stop' to 'where do we begin' in his steps towards helping bring back Bucky. Steve didn't ask it. Sam volunteered. It's sweet that no matter how much Sam acts like he hates Bucky, he was willing to give up his secure job to search for him. Clearly, he saw Bucky was redeemable enough to risk approaching a guy who normally attacked first and asked questions later.
No matter how much they pretend they can't stand each other, they always find themselves drawn together in a crisis. Whether its fighting a teenager in pjs at an airport or dealing with an alien invasion, Sam and Bucky always had each other's backs.
Sam doesnt need to write out in big letters in the sky that Bucky means everything to him. Sam shows his care in little ways and Bucky is lucky to have someone in his corner to treat him like a person and not a weaponized accessory or just Captain America's best friend. He sees Bucky as Bucky and let's his opinions be known accordingly with no ulterior motives.
Sam is someone who checks in on him without prompting because he recognizes Bucky as a PTSD victim and POW without trying to lecture him like he's one of Sam's patients. Sam defends Bucky automatically against people like John Walker and Zemo. He teases and argues with Bucky like a schoolyard kid with and crush. Fights at his side, trusting Bucky to have his six.
Sam is someone who gives him that little drop of normalcy by welcoming Bucky into his family. He let Bucky around his most vulnerable, precious people because Sam trusts Bucky and wants to show him off to his family.
Bucky showed he cared with how determined he was to give Sam the shield. The fact he considered that shield his only family and Bucky fought to give it to Sam means something that people fail to notice. Bucky could have stolen it for himself. It was his last reminder of Steve; wherever old man Steve is. But he wanted it for Sam because he believed in Sam and he clearly wasn't ready for that kind of responsibility in Infinity Wars.
Bucky gave Sam a whole suitcase full of Wakandian tech, using his last favor from the Dora Milaje because he believed in his man that much. He knew he was on thin ice with them but he needed something to convince Sam that he was the one.
Bucky doesn't trust easy. So for him to put all his trust in Sam time after time. They consuled each other in Endgame. Sam was the only Avenger remaining that kept checking on Bucky despite their supposed bad blood. Bucky willingly opened up to Sam about his nightmares when it was like pulling teeth for Dr. Raynor to open about anything.
When they both refused to acknowledge what they had, Bucky was willing to face off John Walker so that Sam could talk to the terrorists. They argued constantly but Sam and Bucky where never vicious to each other like jaded Sharon Carter was to Bucky. Their arguing was their own love language. Whenever they would say 'I hate you' it had no real fire and is said more with fond annoyance.
Sam worried about Bucky long after Steve disappeared and Bucky gave his blessing the moment he saw old man Steve on the park bench. SamBucky is amazing because they went from two perfect strangers whose only connection was their best friend Steve Rogers; to two petty and in love people who proved they can survive together without Steve as long as they have each other.
Sam Wilson deserves Bucky Barnes and Bucky Barnes deserve Sam Wilson because they can be real with each other and know the other ain't going anywhere.
Periodt.
#sam wilson#bucky barnes#sambucky#winterfalcon#sam x bucky#sam wilson and bucky barnes#real sambucky fans only#sambucky should not be a substitute for stucky#sam wilson deserves romance#sam wilson deserves bucky barnes#bucky barnes desrves sam wilson#sambucky purist#sambucky super husbands#super husbands#there is no good reason to deny sam wilson his bucky barnes#there is no good reason to deny bucky barnes his sam#enemies to friends to lovers#sambucky should be canon#the falcon and the winter soldier#tfaws#sambucky is a enemies to friends to lovers trope#what we not going to do is use sam wilson as a substitute for steve rogers#what we not going to do is hate on sam wilson#petty and in love
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When he pushed her away
and when she pulled him back (part II)
[gif creds @tairoberts]
JJ Maybank x female!Reader
Warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking
Based on the quote ‘To douchebags!’ He said, gesturing to brad. ‘And TL girls that break your heart,’ he bowed his head to me. His eyes lost focus. ‘And to the absolute fucking horror of losing your best friend because you were stupid enough to fall in love with her.’ from the book Beautiful Disaster by Jamie McGuire.
Thank you @yourroyalyaverageprincess for sending this prompt and for trusting me with writing it, I hope I made it justice 🥰
Part 1
“Have you seen JJ?”
“Uh, he was here not even five minutes ago.” Pope answered (Y/N).
She had just arrived at the chateau and, after greeting everyone, there was only one person left. That person being the boy who she missed like crazy even though she had been hanging out with the Pogues everyday. JJ had been quieter, and she would even say distant, since the episode at the country club. She assumed he was probably just ashamed for crying in front of her. He usually went back to his dorky self no longer after a day, but it had been almost a week and she was dying to hug her best friend. He was there but at the same time he wasn’t.
“Do I stink or something? It’s like every time I arrive here he runs away.”
“You don’t stink.” Pope assured, passing her a beer, “He has been acting kinda weird, though. He usually behaves like a kid on Christmas when he knows you’re coming.” he smiled, convinced his friend had some kind of crush on the girl. If only he knew.
She smiled at the comparison and studied the beer can, wondering where he had ran off this time and if she really was the reason for that.
..
JJ missed her like crazy. It had been three weeks since he had had a proper conversation with her. That is, if you can consider a hi or a see ya later a conversation. He just couldn’t help the way his hands trembled, his heart raced and the way his mind went blank at the sight of her. (Y/N) was driving him insane without even trying, making him behave in a foreign way, and he couldn’t stand it because he didn’t know how to control or act on it, let alone stop it. It was scary. He was scared and he just wished he could at least push all of that aside and be able to hug her or even look her in the eye without having this desperate urge to kiss her and tell her how he felt. JJ felt ridiculous for not being able to even be left alone with the girl without starting to sweat and overthink what he should say. I love you and I’m an idiot and I’m sorry. If only it was that simple.
He took a glance at (Y/N) half sitting, half laying down on one of the couches as he stood on the opposite side of the porch. Kie had gone to use the bathroom and Pope was helping John B wash the Twinkie after the dark skinned boy had insisted the van needed an urgent bath. Which left the duo alone, much to JJ’s distress and (Y/N)’s nervousness in making conversation after her anxiety had convinced herself that she probably had done something wrong and her best friend was still mad at her.
“So,” she started, experimenting looking at him, “how’ve you been?”
He nodded his head, not holding her gaze for more than a millisecond.
“I’m good.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
She scoffed, not as discreetly as she intended, making the blonde finally look at her.
“Really?”
JJ shrugged his shoulders in response, pretending to not know what she was talking about. It was stupid of him, he was aware of that. He couldn’t possibly believe she hadn’t noticed the way he was acting towards her. Or more so, the way he wasn’t acting towards her. (Y/N) rolled her eyes after a few seconds of waiting for a proper answer, hopefully an explanation, but nothing came out of his mouth.
“Whatever, JJ.” she got up and went inside. It was the first time they had such a short, vain and insecure exchange of words. The pair was always so carefree and loving towards each other, it felt so painfully out of place, like they were strangers.
But it was the way she looked at him disappointedly that made tears form in his eyes as he stared at the wooden floor. He was too stubborn to let them fall though, no matter how much it hurt to see that he was losing her a bit more every day. And it was all because of him.
..
The Carreras were kind enough to let the Pogues stay at The Wreck after closing time to celebrate Pope’s birthday. It was just the five of them, as usual, but the place felt crowded with the tension between JJ and (Y/N) taking up the whole room. No one could really understand what was going on between the two, not even the girl herself, who was involved in the mysterious fight.
JJ had decided to try and drown his emotions a bit and start early with the drinking, because if he would have to force himself to not crawl back to her the entire night then he would need the help of something stronger than his feelings for her.
The evening went by more tolerably than she expected, mostly because her friends were being good distractions and JJ seemed entertained enough with his drinks and Pope’s jokes to hamper her job of trying not to think of him. But to see him smile for the first time in weeks, even with a few drinks on top to blame, it was like she wanted to save that image in her brain. She missed him so fucking much and she swore she could tear up just at the sigh of it, like she did some many nights lately.
A few games in, it was finally time to sing happy birthday to Pope and try the cake Kiara spent the whole afternoon making, stating that was her birthday present to the boy because it gave her a lot of trouble.
As Pope finished his random speech, making everyone laugh with the nonsense that were his words under the influence of the alcohol, JJ filled another shot and stood up, raising the glass to the ceiling.
“To Pope.” he simply said, drawing the shot. He immediately filled the shot glass again and repeated the gesture to continue his speech, “To douchebags!” his eyes filled with tears and everyone looked at each other, confused, no one recalling ever seeing JJ being emotional when drunk, “To all the girls that break your heart.” his eyes, now tired of holding the tears, letting one escape and fall over his cheek, fell onto (Y/N), who observed him with genuine concern and her own tears threatening to fall. They held each other’s gazes as the blonde continued, “And to the absolute fucking horror of losing your best friend because you were stupid enough to fall in love with her.”
JJ hit the bottom of the glass on the tabletop and drank it and, with an unbothered wipe of the stubborn tear, he turned his back to the table and walked outside.
The silence that followed the scene was heavy and (Y/N) felt like she was being crushed by it. No fucking way she kept repeating in her head. Of all the things she had pictured to be the reason her best friend had pushed her away, him falling for her never even crossed her mind. She had discarded the hope of her feelings being reciprocated a long time ago. It never got easier, though, and in that moment, all she wanted to do was scream, yell at him for how stupid, blind, and a straight up idiot he was.
“(Y/N/N)?” John B’s voice broke her out of her trance, and it was only when she looked up that her tears took the liberty of falling from the movement of her eyes.
“Well, that was unexpected.” she joked and tried to smile, but it felt like her lips weighed tons from how heavy and difficult it was to smile at that moment.
“Everything makes sense now.” Pope mumbled, understanding it was a JJ thing to do ro run away from his problems and feelings, but no one ever expected that would happen with the girl. Everybody was sure nothing in the world could break them apart.
“I should probably go talk to him.” (Y/N) stated, wiping her tears.
“You sure? Don’t you think it’s better to give him some time?” Kie asked, holding the girl’s hand as she got up.
“I think we both had plenty of time.”
JJ was resting against the guardrail, his elbows supporting his weight as his hands fidgeted loosely in front of him. His head was down, not staring at anything in specific, but anywhere that could hide his features. Anywhere his vulnerability couldn’t be seen.
A presence next to him made him stiffened. He knew it was her and oh how he wished he could fall into her arms and cry again. But he wanted to cry about her so it didn’t seem plausible. She positioned herself close to him but with her back towards the water, as if to give him some privacy with his thoughts. She knew Kie was right, she should probably give him and herself time to process that new information. Information that could change everything. But she was so tired of overthinking possibilities as to why he pushed her away, if it was her fault. She just wanted answers and go back to hold her fucking best friend. He’s more than that now. He always has been.
“Is this why you have been avoiding me?”
“Are you mad?”
“I asked first.”
JJ paused for a moment and stood straight, his head lifting just a bit, enough to see the moon reflected on the water and her figure in his peripheral vision.
“Yeah.”
She nodded, relieved for finally getting an answer. He didn’t need to elaborate on that, it wasn’t necessary when she knew damn well how he prefers to avoid his problems and refuse to accept his feelings then facing the music. It’s always too loud for him.
“For how long?” she asked, turning on her side and holding her weigh on her hip against the guardrail.
“A few months I guess. Probably longer.”
(Y/N) smiled, this time with no effort, her lips like a feather. She let out a chuckle causing him to look at her, “Yeah, go ahead and laugh. Take your time.” he rolled his eyes and looked back to the water, getting himself ready for the embarrassment that would follow. (Y/N) shook her head. He really was oblivious.
“You know, I think the reason we get along so well after all is because we’re both really, really stupid.”
“We are?” he was genuinely confused, having no clue where she wanted to go with that.
“Yeah. You really don’t see it, do you?”
“Look, if this is some weird joke about you friendzoning me, save it. Just go straight to it, I really… I really don’t wanna do this right now.” his voice cracked in the end. For a moment, she felt bad, but at the same time, he was just proving her point.
“JJ.” when he didn’t bulge at her soft calling, she reached for his hand, bringing it to her lips and planting a kiss on his knuckles, “Hey, can you please look at me?” she spoke as gently as she could to let him know she wasn’t trying to make fun of him or friendzoning him. She just wanted JJ to look her in the eye and read her like she could read him. Hesitantly, he looked at her.
“I think it’s fair for you to know” she took a deep breath, “that I fell for my best friend too.”
His eyes widened a bit, as if it would help him retain that information. Is this real right now?
“And in case you need, like, reassurance and shit, yes, the best friend is you.”
“Well, shit.” his voice was still low, but the use of words showed a bit of the mild kleptomaniac JJ Maybank was coming back, “I really am stupid, aren’t I?”
“Yeah, a bit.” she laughed along with him, “But I don’t mind. I mean, you could’ve just told me instead of pushing me away.”
“You never asked.”
“Why would I ask, dumbass?” she accused, which made him laugh harder.
(Y/N) brought his hand back to her lips, his eyes following their intertwined fingers as they were kissed again by her. He released the grip, moving his hand to move a strand of hair out of her face and then grabbed her hand again, her turn to have her fingers kissed by him.
“So, are you for real?”
She rolled her eyes, her smile never leaving her face.
“Yes, I’m for real for real.”
They stood in silence, a comfortable and heartwarming one, as they stared at each other. It was easy to read their faces, the amount of love they held inside of them for each other being hard to cover up and there was no need to try.
“I’m gonna throw you in the water if you don’t kiss me right now.” (Y/N) broke the silence, not bothering to put distance between them as she spoke. He grinned at her snarky attitude.
“God, I fucking missed you.”
And there he was, not only back in her arms but experiencing his new favorite thing: kissing her. No amount of daydreaming could compare to that moment and he felt, indeed, really stupid for wasting so much time. He could’ve been feeling those fucking restless butterflies that whole time but he was too scared to act on it. It would take a while for him to forgive himself for pushing her away, hurting both in the process, but he was also forever thankful and damn proud of (Y/N) for pulling him back, closer than ever, and he just hoped she didn’t plan on letting him go any sooner, because he wanted to stay.
…………………………………………………………………..
@fandomspov
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drunk in love - john shelby x reader
a/n: hello my loves :) here is the john fic that i'm personally really excited about bc i fucking love him & i hope you guys like it!! i'm taking requests if you guys want me to write anything in specific and as always, feel free to message me :)
love, abi xxx
gif by: @deeptheon
prompt: you're john's secretary & he takes you on a trip.
warnings: nsfw!! smut with a teeny tiny bit of fluff if you squint, choking, power play, john being generally irresistible
There were many words to describe John Shelby. Cowardly was not one of them. In the short time you had known him, you had seen him fight god knows how many people, in countless bars across Birmingham. You had seen and heard stories of John blowing up buildings and setting bars on fire. And of course, there was the matter of his arrogance. John dripped confidence from his shoes to his slicked back hair. So cocky, in fact, that you almost wanted to tell him to shut up as much as you wanted to ride his face. Almost.
So, there you sat wistfully at your desk, sneaking glances of him in his office whenever you could. Not that you would even have a chance if you tried; you were his goddamn secretary. Despite the fact that he oozed arrogance, John was a good boss, who always approved your requests for days off. Sure, you were at his beck and call pretty much 24/7, but this also meant you had a front row seat to all the girls he fucked. The women were always stunning, making your hopes deflate even further. However, for the last month, there had been no women. You chalked it up to him finding some sort of girlfriend, so you kept your interactions with him as businesslike as possible. Deep down, through every meeting, phone call, and even just through the windows of his office, you drank in every second of John you could get. He was intoxicating; the smell of his cologne nearly brought you to your knees.
You snapped out of your thoughts, training your eyes back on the work in front of you and taking a drag from your cigarette. Suddenly, you felt a tap on your shoulder. It was Lizzie, a cigarette between her slightly pursed lips. “John wants you in his office. He doesn’t seem mad, but then again, who knows,” she stated. You stood, smoothing out your red pleated skirt and black blouse and quickly opening your compact to make sure your lipstick hadn’t smudged. “Thanks, Lizzie,” you replied, shooting her a smile as she made her way back to her desk. You made your way across the open office space to John’s office, knocking softly on the frosted window pane that read Shelby Company, Ltd in gold lettering.
“Come in,” John called out, his voice muffled behind the wooden door. You turned the doorknob and entered his office, shutting the door behind you. John sat at a tufted leather chair, puffing from a cigar, flipping through a folder. His suit jacket was abandoned on the velvet settee that sat in front of the fireplace, the gold chains of his sleeve garters glistening in the light. The glow from the fireplace glinted off of John’s profile, catching the frame of his jaw just right. You admired the way the light reflected off of the rings on his hands, making you want to feel the cool metal against your body. His hair was neatly slicked back as usual, along with his dark grey vest, white dress shirt, and tie, making him command the attention of the room.
“Lizzie said you wanted to see me?” You questioned, standing at the back of the room.
“Have a seat, Y/N,” John responded, gesturing towards the empty chairs that sat in front of his oak desk. You sat, crossing your legs and tucking them under the chair. John took another puff from his cigar, smoke billowing through the room. “I need to go to London, and
I need you with me.” You were a little surprised at this, since John had never asked you to go somewhere this far with him before.
“For how long?” You asked, taking a cigarette out and lighting it, your lipstick staining it a dark pink as you took a drag. John’s blue eyes bored into yours as he absent-mindedly flicked his cigar, ashing it into the crystal ashtray on his desk. It was almost as if he could read your mind and see all the filthy things you were imagining him doing to you. God, he was fucking irresistable.
“A week,” John replied, shooting his glass of whiskey as he stood, making his way to a locked cabinet and pulling out a wad of pound notes. He peeled a number of them off, making his way towards you and holding them out for you to take, leaning back against his desk facing you. “Buy yourself some nice dresses, eh? There’s going to be a lot of dinners, and I need you there to take notes.”
You accepted the cash, taking a long drag from your cigarette as your eyes met John’s. You couldn’t bring yourself to resist the urge to flirt back. “What’s your favorite color?” John seemed a little surprised at the question, but his normal confidence quickly returned as he smirked. “Black. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning, eh?”
You nodded as he poured himself another whiskey, daydreaming about the way his rough hands would feel around your throat. “Is that all, Mr. Shelby?” You asked, black kitten heels tapping against the carpet.
John nodded, taking a sip from his glass. “I’ll see you at eight tomorrow.” You stood, turning to walk out of John’s office as you felt his eyes on your figure. As you closed the door behind you, you shivered in expectation. A week alone with John Shelby. How were you going to manage to keep your hands to yourself?
***
The rest of the work day passed quickly, and you headed to the nearest department store, choosing three different black dresses. As much as you hated to admit it, you wanted to look good for John. You wanted him to want you; to feel that longing that you felt between your legs every time his eyes met yours. You chose a longer formal black dress made of silk, a black sequined dress for a party, and the last, a short black dress with fringe that made you look almost like a burlesque dancer. You knew it was risky, exposing that much skin, but then again, John Shelby wasn’t a normal man. He knew what he wanted and he took it, never paying mind to what others thought.
As the rest of the night flew by, you found yourself tossing and turning in bed. No matter how many times you touched yourself, you couldn’t get the image of John’s smirk out of your head. You wanted him to bend you over right in his office, and you didn’t care who heard. You wanted him to take everything you had to offer. Eventually, you fell asleep, waking up to the sound of birds chirping loudly outside your apartment window. You almost jumped out of bed, blood pumping with excitement. You got ready, slipping on a dark purple silk dress with black tights and purple pumps, stuffing your cigarette case and pocketbook in your black handbag. You poured yourself a cup of tea, hurrying to get all your bags ready as you didn’t want to keep John waiting.
Right as eight o’clock arrived, you heard a knock on your door. It was John, smelling sweetly of cologne and wearing a freshly pressed black pinstripe three piece suit with a grey tie. His cap sat tilted on his head, and dangling from his lips was a cigar. He was a fucking vision to behold, and your head spun at the thought of the two hour car ride in close quarters that you were about to endure. The driver came in to take your bags, leaving John to walk you to the car. He held out his hand to help you step into the Bentley, your skin buzzing with electricity where his fingers touched yours. John closed the door, making his way to the other side and sliding into the leather interior while the driver finished putting the bags in the trunk and made his way to the driver’s seat, starting the engine and taking off.
John’s blue-grey eyes met yours as he puffed at his cigar, cracking the window slightly to let the smoke waft out. “You pack everything we need?” You subconsciously pressed your legs together, filthy images swirling through your brain as you managed to ignore them. “Yes, Mr. Shelby, I got the list you sent me for what to bring. Did you need anything other than that?”
John shook his head no, putting out his cigar in the ashtray. A comfortable silence settled over the two of you as the car rumbled along over the brick roads.
“What’s your favorite color?” You looked over at John in surprise. He must have understood your confusion as he added, “You asked what mine was. I want to know yours.”
“Red,” you replied, fumbling for a cigarette, and when finding one, striking a match to light it.
John’s eyes fixed on your dark red stained lips. “Red, aye?”
Your instincts got the better of you. “Is there a problem with that, Mr. Shelby?”
“Call me John,” he said, words muffled by the cigarette in his mouth that he was lighting. After he finished, he took a drag, fixing his eyes back on you. “And, no. The opposite, actually.”
You weren’t brave enough to ask what that meant, so you let silence take over once again. Maybe later, when you had had a few drinks in you. What the fuck were you doing?
Finally, the dirt roads underneath once again turned into cobblestone, and you knew you were in London by the smell and smoke that hovered over the city. The Bentley rolled to a stop in front of a massive factory building, stretching blocks long. You could hear the yells of the workers from inside the car. John reached for his gun, loading it and affixing it back into his holster.
“We’ve got a meeting first, then dinner. Driver’s going to drop off our bags at the hotel. C’mon sweetheart, and stay by me. Who knows what these fuckers are going to pull around here,” John said, opening the door and reaching his hand out for you to take. You blushed at the pet name, taking John’s hand as he quickly whisked you off the street and into the building, up a flight of stairs where two men directed the two of you into a meeting room with a large table and dark leather chairs. John sank into the chair at the head of the table, and you slid into the seat next to him, taking out a notebook. Before you had any time to even write the date, John’s hand was on your waist, pulling you close to him. Your skin prickled with goosebumps at the proximity.
“If anybody pulls a fucking gun, you get behind me. You understand?” You nodded, crossing your legs at the ankle as you tried to focus your thoughts on something other than how fucking amazing John smelled. John’s hand left your waist as the door opened, the men whom he was meeting with entering the room. The meeting was uneventful, John successfully closing the deal with these men, who you found out were the Chinese. The driver picked you both up out front, taking the two of you back to your hotel to get changed for what you found out was a French restaurant in London’s downtown. The hotel room was a suite with two rooms, one for you and the larger one for John. You decided to wear the short black dress with fringe along with black fluffy kitten heels, and when John walked out of his room, the first word out of his mouth was “Fuck.” Your cheeks blushed a bright pink as John’s eyes traveled down your body.
“You look amazing.” John held out his arm for you to grab, leading you into the car as you took off. It didn’t take long to reach the restaurant, passing through busy streets packed with people of opulence. As John held the door for you to walk in, you almost gasped in amazement at the massive gold chandelier that hung from the ceiling. The waiter led you and John to your table, and as John pulled out your chair for you and walked around the table to sit at his, you almost couldn’t believe you were here, let alone with John Shelby, one of the biggest and by your standards most certainly the most handsome gangsters in Birmingham. Yet, there he sat across from you, looking fucking delectable in a dark grey three-piece suit and black tie.
The dinner was amazing, time passing quickly as the two of you fell into conversation. John Shelby was funny, you realized, and at the heart of it all, sweet. Soon, a glass of wine turned into five, and the driver eventually dropped the two of you back off at the hotel, as the other customers had complained about the raucous laughing coming from your table. You burst into the room giggling, John following close behind, as the two of you flopped onto the velvet settee, knees and shoulders brushing.
“God, you’re fucking pretty,” John said, eyes locking with yours. Your jaw almost dropped as your cheeks turned pink. “What?”
“You heard me,” John said, lighting a cigarette. “You’re fucking pretty.”
You stared at him, alcohol fueling your confidence. “Then why don’t you do something about it?” The words spilled out of your mouth. John wasted no time in pressing his lips against yours roughly, picking you up and setting you on the bed. You moaned into his mouth as he pressed himself against you, feeling his cock hard against your lower stomach, earning a grunt from John as he ripped off your dress, sending buttons flying across the room. You opened your mouth in protest, but John beat you to it. “I’ll buy you three new ones, yeah?” He questioned before running his hands down your hips, a finger slipping underneath the waistband of your black panties. Goosebumps ran down your skin and John chuckled, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh.
“God, you look so pretty all spread out for me. Better than I fucking imagined,” he said, pulling your panties down your legs and rubbing his thumb in circles on your clit. Your body jolted in response. “John,” you panted. “Oh fuck John, please don’t tease me..”
John grinned up at you, pushing one finger in you slowly. “What do you want? Tell me, darling.”
“Your mouth, John, please,” you gasped, squirming for some sort of relief. John responded by licking slowly up your cunt, flicking his tongue in circles around your clit before returning his attention to your pussy, his right hand rubbing your clit. You cried out, back arching as you pushed against John’s mouth. You felt him growl in response, vibrations pulsing throughout your body and sending you over the edge and you came all over John’s face. You attempted to catch your breath as John stood with a boyish smirk, wiping the back of his mouth with his sleeve before discarding his clothes, his large cock standing at attention against his taught stomach muscles.
“God you taste good,” John rumbled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I think I’ll have you tomorrow for breakfast too,” he grinned. You laughed in response, John cutting that laugh short by running the head of his cock up and down your dripping cunt.
“Sir, please,” you whined, eyes widening when you realized what had just left your mouth. Before you could apologize, you felt John’s hand wrap around your throat.
“You going to be a good girl for me, hmm?” John’s blue eyes bored into yours.
“Yes, sir,” you whimpered, crying out as John entered you at a ridiculous pace, covering your mouth with his. He kissed like a starved man, hungry for everything you had to give, and you gave it gladly. John’s cock bumped up against your g spot with every thrust as he fucked you, your moans echoing throughout the hotel room.
“Your pussy is amazing,” John groaned as he fucked into you relentlessly. “Fucking mine now, yeah?”
You nodded, unable to form the proper words as John chuckled darkly. “Pretty little thing, can’t even talk when I’m fucking you this good, hm?” Your only reply was a moan as John gripped your throat tightly, causing you to see stars.
“That’s right, sweetheart, come all over my cock,” John crooned as you reached your release, continuing to fuck you through your orgasm. You cried out as John fucked you even harder, eyes locked with yours.
“Mine,” John grunted, hips snapping flush with yours as he continued to thrust inside of you, your pussy squeezing around his cock as you neared your second orgasm.
“I want you to come in me, sir, please,” you begged, hands clawing at John’s back. John groaned in response, fucking you at the fastest pace he possibly could as your cries echoed off the walls before eventually releasing inside of you, falling onto the bed next you as the two of you caught your breath. John slung an arm around you, pulling you close to him as he locked his eyes with yours.
“I meant what I said, you know.”
“What did you say?” You asked, brow furrowed with confusion.
“That you were pretty,” John said, sitting up to grab a cigarette and light it, his blue eyes glistening in the light of the fireplace. “I’ve thought about you more than I’d like to admit.”
You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “And I’m not just drunk,” John continued, eyes meeting yours again. “I think I’m in love.”
“Me too.” You couldn’t stop the words from coming from your mouth. John followed them with a deep kiss, pulling you on top of him.
“I’m gonna fuck you until the sun comes up,” John grinned as you laughed, covering your mouth with his.
#john shelby x reader#john shelby smut#john shelby imagine#peaky blinders#tommy shelby smut#tommy shelby imagine#peaky blinders imagine#peaky blinders smut#john shelby
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enough is enough
prompt: knees buckling
whumpee: john reese
fandom: person of interest
hi here's my second poi fic! i'm still only in s1 so apologies if anything seems wonky, i'm very much just getting to know the show but it's just so fun to write!!! i hope you like it :)
The wound in his side is sluggishly leaking blood, staining the crisp white fabric of his shirt bright red. It pulls uncomfortably with each running stride he takes, but he has no time to slow down to try to fix it.
He’s in hot pursuit of their latest number. For the second time. The first chase had ended not five minutes ago when the number - one Peter Davis - had shot him.
Despite having been shot by him, John doesn’t think that Davis is bad. He’d just gotten involved with the wrong crowd in a desperate attempt to afford cancer treatments for his wife. He owes money he doesn’t have to people who won’t accept that he doesn’t have it. And he’d apparently used some of this money to buy a gun.
He’s scared. John had seen it in his face right before he’d been shot, as he had been trying to explain why he’d grabbed Davis off the street. If he’d kept going in the same direction, he would have been ambushed by the men he owes, probably shot and killed. It’s the middle of the night in a bad part of town. No one would have cared.
But John had barely been able to get a word out before Davis had wriggled out of his grasp, pulled a gun, and shot. While John had been briefly incapacitated, he’d taken off, right towards the danger.
And now John is here, running down the sidewalk with his hand wrapped around the pistol in his pocket, trying to get to Davis before Davis gets to the men who are looking for him.
“Security cameras just caught Mr. Davis three blocks ahead of you,” comes Finch’s voice through his earpiece.
“That SUV still parked in the same place?”
“Yes, it is.”
Davis is rapidly approaching the men who want his money. Very likely he is rapidly approaching his death. John runs faster, all-out sprinting now. He feels the bleeding increase. The pain follows suit. He takes notice of these things, and that’s where their effect on him stops.
“Are you still okay, Mr. Reese?” Finch asks, as John sprints through a crosswalk. He has to be gaining ground on Davis. The man isn’t exactly a professional athlete.
“I’m fine, Finch. Where’s Davis now?”
“Two blocks ahead. He just passed by a bodega.”
He is catching up. But, if he’s done his math correctly, in another three blocks, Davis will run right into the hands - and guns - of the very men John is trying to protect him from.
He sprints even faster, pushing the pain aside. He’d maybe lied to Finch, a little. He is fine at the moment, but Finch thinks he’d only been grazed. The bullet lodged firmly in the middle of his right side would beg to differ.
He catches up to Davis when the man is all of a building’s length away from the intersection with the street where the SUV is parked. He grabs Davis, pulls the gun out of his grip before he can do any more damage with it, and clamps a hand over his mouth before he can make a noise.
“Be quiet,” he hisses, dragging the man backwards. “You know the men who’ve been trying to hunt you down?”
Davis nods. He’s shaking. John removes his hand, and he stays silent.
“They’re just around that corner, waiting for you. So how about you turn around and walk the other way? Get yourself to a hotel, register under a false name. Let me handle this.”
Another nod. John lets him go.
Davis takes all of two steps in the other direction, and then he spins back around and wrenches his gun out of John’s hand. It’s unexpected, and John doesn’t react quickly enough. Davis starts running towards where the men in the SUV lie in wait.
“I’m finishing this!” he shouts. "I've had enough!"
John runs after him and does the only thing he can - he tackles him to the ground. The impact makes the pain in his side flare sharply. The gun goes off. A window shatters.
He gets to his feet quickly, adrenaline quickly replacing the pain. Davis shoots up just as fast, gun still in hand. John draws his own gun. There is no time to run now. Everything is too close.
A car door slams just around the corner.
“Mr. Reese?”
“A little busy at the moment, Finch.”
The men round the corner, guns out, and John starts shooting. Davis joins him. He’s a surprisingly good shot for a man who has apparently never handled a gun before this week.
The other men return fire. One of them has a machine gun. John takes him out as quickly as he can. Bullets spray the sidewalk around him, kicking up sparks.
Davis takes out two men in rapid succession before taking a bullet to the shoulder. John sees him hit the ground just as he hits the final gunman straight between the eyes.
The silence is deafening. Smoke rises from the bodies, illuminated by a single streetlight. They need to get out of here. A shooting of this magnitude will have the place crawling with police in less than fifteen minutes.
“Mr. Reese.” Finch’s voice breaks the silence, insistent and loud.
“We’re okay, Finch. Davis took a shot to the shoulder, but he’s alright.”
“You’d better get out of there. There have been three 911 calls already.”
“I’m sure there have been. What’s the best route?”
Finch tells him. John mentally notes all of the information as he walks towards Davis, who is slowly getting to his feet with a hand pressed to the bleeding wound at the top of his shoulder.
This reminds John of his own injury. The adrenaline of the fight had masked it almost completely, but once he remembers that he’d been hurt, the pain returns at full force. John bites back a wince and looks down. The amount of blood on his clothes is surprising. So is the sudden, overwhelming dizziness that accompanies it.
“Hey, Finch?”
“Yes, Mr. Reese?”
“I think I might be…in a little bit of trouble.”
His knees buckle beneath him, and he hits the ground hard. He’s unconscious before he has time to hear Finch’s response.
--
He wakes up in a bed. It’s not a bed he knows. The room around him is dark, lit only by moonlight coming in through a single window. It smells like antiseptic. His side is throbbing. His throat is sore.
He looks around as his eyes adjust to the darkness. He seems to be in a bedroom. It’s sparsely furnished, with a table beside him and a dresser on the opposite wall and a bookshelf in the corner. Based on the noises coming from beyond the window, he’s still in the city. The smell suggests medicine, though this is clearly not anything close to a hospital.
But he can feel fresh stitches pulling his skin together beneath the blanket. There’s a pad of gauze taped to his arm where an IV would have been. The work of one of Finch’s many acquaintances, he guesses. Very possibly, he’s in someone’s house.
He wants to get up, explore his surroundings, find a weapon, but sleep takes him back under before he can even fully sit up.
--
He wakes up a second time, still in the same bed. It’s light now, and the pain is more insistent. He reorients himself, remembers waking earlier. He wonders for a second about the absence of drugs in his system.
The door opens. He sits up in a flash, looking around for something to use as a weapon. He grabs a book off of the table next to him and aims.
It’s only Finch. John drops the book and leans back against the pillows, his side hurting even more now. Luckily, he doesn’t feel anything bleeding.
“Be careful, Mr. Reese. You wouldn’t want to tear your stitches.”
“Where are we?”
Finch shakes his head. “All in good time, Mr. Reese. You’re safe, which is all you really need to know for now.”
About the answer he’d expected. “How’s Davis?”
“He’s fine. The bullet only grazed him. Unlike you. You lied to me, Mr. Reese.”
“Right, and neither one of us has ever done that before.”
Finch looks at him severely. “You told me, repeatedly, might I add, that you were fine. Collapsing unconscious in the middle of the street is decidedly not fine.”
There’s no good defense against that one, or at least none that John can think of. He’s tired again, which seems impossible. He forces his eyes to stay open, forces himself to speak.
“Sorry,” is all he can think to say. He doesn’t say, I won’t do it again, because they both know that he can’t make a promise like that. He doesn’t say, it could’ve been worse, because there’s no point in bringing up something they both understand.
“I know, Mr. Reese. Now get some more rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
John stops fighting off the exhaustion. He falls back asleep before Finch even turns off the light.
thanks for reading! this was def not the best but it wasn't the worst either so i'm fine with that lol. i am so tired for literally no reason ughhh. anyways though i hope you liked this!! see you tomorrow <3
#whumptober2022#no.19#knees buckling#person of interest#fic#john reese#shot#collapse#medical#i say things#my writing
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Walker (John Stones imagine) Part II
Part II, and guess what, there will be Part III as well. I got carried away with this one. I was afraid to write about John because I never did before, but I enjoyed this idea and the prompt. Anyway, thank you for the lovely comments and reblogs, especially from @bluemoonstonesy and @footballerimaginess whose work I admire. You know already: read, enjoy, heart, reblog, write me what you think (anon or not), but if you don’t want to, that’s okay too. I still love you 🥰
Part I
It had been almost a week since the little incident with the stranger that left Rosie wondering about him more than she dared to admit. No matter how much she tried to shake it off, she couldn't because there was something about him, aside from the familiarity of his face, that made her giddy by just thinking about their encounter.
Pulling at the Walker’s leash and twisting it tighter around her palm, she entered the main gate of the park just as the dusk was about to settle – a silent invitation for the evening. The rain that kept on drizzling the entire morning had stopped sometime mid-day, leaving a certain kind of musty smell in the air, but she didn’t mind it.
Just like everyone else, Rosie had no desire to be outside, but Walker did, and there was nothing she could do to coax the dog into staying indoors with a cuppa and something stupid on TV. So, she put on her brother’s raincoat that was way too big for her, and grabbed a few tote-bags, deciding to do some food shopping while giving Walker the much needed hour of activity.
“No, I am not letting you run now,” she mumbled softly as an answer to Walker’s whines, “sorry, boy, I know you want, but it’s too late, and you’ll get all dirty. Can’t stay up cleaning the carpet,” she continued, feeling extremely comfortable by herself in the park.
Walker shook his head vigorously as if annoyed with her, but kept on walking, passing the small, and with rain bloated rose-garden, several old and chipped benches before turning the corner where the large fountain was.
The same fountain where she met the stranger with the softest smile and blue eyes that didn’t want to let go of her mind.
The stranger.
He’s got a name, Rosie.
John. His name is John. John Something.
“Rosie!!” a male voice called out suddenly, making her slow down. Both her and Walker turned their heads towards the sound, and the dog let out a happy bark at the person on the other side of the park.
This time, he wasn’t shirtless, but wearing a dark tracksuit set with a light blue snood around his neck, pulled all the way up to cover his ears. Rosie’s heartbeat accelerated when she realised that he started jogging across the small path and towards her, and before she was able to do or say something, he was in front of her, with the smile she couldn’t stop thinking about, plastered across his face.
“Hi,” she mumbled, giving him a small wave, softly pulling at Walker’s leash to bring him closer to her feet.
“Fancy seeing you again,” he was still smiling, and Rosie felt her body fill with warmth, despite the chilly breeze. “Still dog-sitting?”
Rosie nodded. “Brother’s coming home tonight. That’s if he hasn’t vomited himself to death somewhere in Ibiza. He hasn’t responded to any of my texts since Wednesday,” she added with a smirk.
John smirked back, folding his snood inwards before crouching down to greet Walker. “To be fair, some of the best parties I’ve attended were on that magical island,” he admitted, squinting up at her.
“With your less-good looking mate Walker, I assume?” she inquired with a small raise of her eyebrow, earning a cheeky grin from John in response.
“You remembered,” he commented, almost inaudibly, scratching Walker’s head, and Rosie felt her cheeks redden.
She was maybe bad at doing maths and running, but remembering things was her forte.
“Well, yeah…” she mumbled back, feeling like a silly teenager in front of her crush.
John got back to his feet, and Rosie looked down at her own, nervously adjusting the heavy grocery bag that was digging into her bra-strap. She could feel his eyes on her, and it was making her slightly light-headed. Rosie was usually confident when it came to guys she fancied, but John had a different effect on her, and it scared her.
She didn’t even know him.
“Oh, let me help you with that,” John suddenly offered, and Rosie looked up, giving him a confusing look.
“Why?” she asked – her brows knitting together, making John chuckle.
“Why not?” he answered with a wink, taking the bag that she was holding in her hand without a warning – their fingertips brushing for a fraction of a second.
Rosie smiled as Walker started strolling in front of them as they made their way towards the park exit, and Rosie breathed out softly.
“Went to the store,” she started, needing to fill the silence that settled between the two of them like the dusk over the city, “I keep telling him that he’s an arse, but I couldn’t let him come back home to a tub of expired yogurt and something that resembled two bangers and a mash in a takeaway box, and—,” Rosie stopped abruptly, looking up at John with a sheepish smile. “Sorry ‘bout that. I tend to ramble sometimes.”
John gave her a smile, letting her know that it was okay. “Caring is not a bad trait to have, Rosie,” he murmured, opening the gate for her before letting her walk out first – the wrought iron squeaking when he closed it shut. Without hesitation, Rosie motioned with her free hand towards the street where her brother’s flat was. “You said you are actually from Manchester, right?”
She didn’t know why, but she felt she could trust him.
Famous last words.
“Yeah, I moved there about five years ago for uni, and stayed afterwards. Why?”
“Not only good at remembering things and caring for others, but also with a tendency to ask the same questions,” John teased, and Rosie felt her cheeks redden slightly. “I am just curious. I live in Manchester too. Well, Cheshire, but you know, it’s close.”
Rosie smirked up at him as they neared her brother’s flat, and purposely, she slowed down to buy herself more time in his company. “Isn’t that where all the rich and famous live?”
“Who says I’m not rich and famous?” he laughed, throwing his head back, and Rosie stopped at the entryway to her brother’s flat.
“Well…” she trailed off, reaching out her hand to take the grocery bag from him, “this is it. Thank you for the help. I thought that chivalry is dead, but I guess it’s not.”
A brief moment of silence washed over them, and Rosie looked up at him – the hood of her jacket sliding from her head. John smiled softly, and for what seemed like an eternity, they kept looking at one another. Rosie wanted to speak; say something, but she didn’t. Instead, she kept looking at him – eyes focusing on his own rather than his full lips.
“I’ll be straightforward, Rosie,” he started leaning in closer, “once we’re both back in Manchester, I’d like to see you again.”
Rosie felt her cheeks starting to heat up even more, and Walker, as if sensing the moment that was happening, stopped moving around and looked up, quietly observing what was happening.
“I thought you said you live in Cheshire?”
“I do, but I also own a car,” John responded gently, and Rosie wondered if he sensed the nervousness that filled her body.
Without a word, she reached her hand in the pocket of her brother’s jacket, taking out a pen and the shopping list, where she had quickly listed the things she wanted to buy earlier that day. “I don’t have my phone with me,” she whispered, “but here…” Rosie trailed off, using the doorway as a surface while she scribbled her phone number, drawing a small dog’s head at bottom. “Just text me.”
**
Thanks for reading.
#john stones#john stones imagine#manchester city#john stones fanfiction#england nt#football fanfic#football fanfiction#football imagines#soccer imagines#soccer fanfiction#england nt fanfiction
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rafebarry prompt: not canon compliant but rafe and barry are trying to get away from ward but barry gets hurt so rafe begs sarah + pouges (not on good terms w each other) to help them escape bc he loves barry<33
just a little something i thought about! totally up to you on how this all goes down if you decide to write it, anything you write is amazing !!
this was a stupid fucking idea. stupid, stupid, stupid. rafe knew from the beginning, he should’ve never agreed to this.
there aren’t many things that he and barry don’t agree on, surprisingly. even if they start off disagreeing about something, they generally always end up on the same page. but this plan had been something they’d gone back and forth on, never settling on a definitive decision.
in the end, barry had simply manhandled rafe over to the place he’d formerly called home - before ward booted his ass out - and waltzed them through the front door like they owned the place.
all to steal from ward, to get more money for coke and groceries (re: booze and hot pockets) and whatever other fleeting indulgences they could think of.
rafe had disagreed with this plan throughout its development and execution, not wanting to cross the one and only person in the entire world who scares him: ward cameron. and he’d been right to, because now barry is gasping for air, holding his side while blood spills from between his fingers.
they’re racing through the woods, trying to get as far away from ward’s long-range hunting rifle as they can.
rafe doesn’t know if ward knew he was barry’s companion in this little venture. he’d insisted they wear bandanas over their faces, but rafe is pretty sure ward would know his son in a heartbeat regardless.
he doesn’t even want to think about it. about the fact that ward shot barry, or that he probably would’ve shot rafe too if rafe hadn’t had the presence of mind to shove both barry and himself out of the nearest window, plunging into the bushes below before ward could get off another shot.
another shot on the person he more than likely knew to be his son.
ward had continued taking shots as rafe dragged barry across the yard and into the treeline, disappearing from view.
now, they’re back at the main road, barry collapsing against a tree as he clenches his hand around the wound in his side.
“let me see,” rafe demands, kneeling down and peeling up barry’s shirt despite barry shaking his head.
“ain’t got time, country club,” barry wheezes, trying to push rafe back so he’ll stand up and keep moving.
rafe doesn’t budge, just swipes at the blood with his shirt sleeve to get a better look at the wound. the bullet just grazed him, but it’s enough to warrant stitches at the very least.
“you’re not going to make it to the emergency room like this,” rafe comments absentmindedly, pulling out his phone a firing off a text to topper letting him know he’s going to need to borrow his car.
barry manages to push rafe back an inch this time, shaking his head furiously. “ain’t no way i’m goin’ to no damn hospital. i ain’t got insurance and your daddy done cut you off months ago. how you gonna pay for my little siesta in the ER with them empty pockets?”
and okay, he has a point. rafe will admit that. not to mention, ward has people all over the OBX, and if he sends out word about looking for his son, they’ll surely be caught if they’re trapped in the emergency room.
there’s only one other place rafe can think to go. one place where ward won’t know to look, one place where barry can get some medical help without having to shell out a fortune.
rafe may have to grovel a bit (or a lot), but he’ll do it. damn it, he’ll fucking do it because barry is going to bleed out if he doesn’t and that would really fucking suck because rafe was just starting to sort of like him.
he must’ve said that last part out loud, because barry manages to glare at him and say, “quit that shit. we been dating for a year, dickhead.”
then barry sort of slumps to the side, and rafe has to all but carry him to topper’s place.
rafe has just gotten the keys topper keeps in the cupholder into the ignition when he looks at his phone, seeing a text from top.
can’t let u borrow the car tonight, have a thing in the morning. srry bud.
rafe glances over at barry, who’s blacked out in the passenger’s seat, fresh blood still seeping out of his shirt.
“sorry about this, top,” rafe says to himself, turning the key and hearing the engine roar to life. “i’ll get you back later.”
he peels out of the driveway, speeding down the familiar streets until they become more and more unfamiliar, figure eight bleeding into the cut.
he zooms past more and more unfamiliar houses, searching for the only one he knows, starting to feel hopeless, starting to really worry that barry might actually die in the passenger’s seat of his car.
or topper’s car, rather. it’d be super annoying to have to apologize for that on top of having to apologize for stealing it in the first place, to be honest.
then suddenly, rafe is idling outside a house that is both familiar and unfamiliar. the few times he’s been here before, he’d been fucked up beyond belief and fueled by violent anger. it seems almost foreign to him now, while he’s sober as a judge (only due to his current circumstances, mind you) and fueled by nothing but pure adrenaline.
rafe practically drags barry to the house. there are all sorts of lights on, both inside and out, and rafe can hear the sounds of music and laughter drifting out from an open window nearby.
he only hesitates for a moment before circling around the house and banging on the door.
john b answers the door with a smile, a small wad of cash in his hand, clearly expecting some sort of food delivery. his smile fades instantly when he realizes it’s not his pizza or what the fuck ever, and is in fact rafe cameron and a half-dead barry.
“no,” is all john b says before trying to shut the door. rafe kicks his leg out, foot jamming between the door and the frame, preventing john b from closing it.
“fuck off, rafe,” john b grunts as he tries to shut the door. rafe can hear concerned voices from inside the house. “you’re not dragging us into whatever shit this is! literally fuck. off.”
“sarah!” rafe shouts, ignoring john b’s protests. “sarah!”
footsteps, and then sarah is pushing john b out of the way gently, looking at rafe in confusion, then at barry in horror.
“rafe? oh my god, what happened?”
sarah ushers them into the house, and rafe is literally dragging barry at this point. still, no one helps him get barry onto the couch. he manages regardless, but he’s panting when it’s all said and done, sliding down onto the floor with a grunt.
“i need you to help him,” rafe says, and he’s looking at pope, who’s seated in the corner beside jj, a guitar that he’s no longer strumming still sitting in his lap.
but john b is the one to answer, shaking his head. “no. besides, we can’t even help him. we don’t know how to do shit like that.”
“he does,” rafe says, still looking at pope, who’s now looking at barry thoughtfully.
“what?” kie laughs, looking bewildered. “pope may be smart, yeah, but he doesn’t have a medical degree. this guy needs a doctor.”
“i know how,” pope sighs, and rafe suppresses a smug smile. “i volunteered at the hospital last summer, remember?”
“and you knew this how?” john b asks rafe, accusatory.
“he was on my rounds once,” pope says calmly, leveling rafe with an unreadable look. “alcohol poisoning and a drug overdose all in one night.”
rafe fights the urge to look away, choosing instead to shrug nonchalantly.
“just another night in the cut, right?” rafe asks, arching one brow. “look, we can dredge up my poor life choices later, if it’ll make you all feel better and get your fucking panties out of a wad. but right now he needs help, so are you going to give him that or are you going to let him bleed out on your ugly ass couch?”
“i say let him bleed out,” john b snaps, clearly irked by rafe’s demands and insults.
rafe wants to knock the guy’s teeth down his throat, but he just breathes steadily through his nose. just like barry has been teaching him. “we can’t go to a hospital. no insurance, and ward’s hunting us down as we speak. so do i want to fucking be here? no. but i have to, so name your fucking price and we’ll pay it.”
“besides,” rafe continues, turning his eyes to sarah, challenging her, “you’re not just going to let someone die, are you?”
sarah narrows her eyes, hands perched on her hips. “no, that’s more your style, isn’t it?” then, she looks at pope. “come on, help him. he isn’t dying on john b’s couch. that’s way too creepy for me to deal with right now.”
pope nods and disappears from the room as sarah and john b bicker quietly. kie and jj glare daggers at rafe, while also eyeing barry, lying on the couch looking far more dead than alive.
when pope reappears, he has a first aid kit in one hand and a sewing kit in the other. he shoos rafe out of the way. rafe just scoots a little further to the left to give pope room, but stays close to barry.
“rafe, we need to talk,” sarah says after a moment. “outside?”
rafe shakes his head. “not until i know he’s okay.”
the room falls silent, and rafe looks around, glaring. “what, it’s illegal to care about people now? fuck off.”
“so do you want us to like… give you a room, or something? maybe some champagne and rose petals? we could get some ambient beats going, really set the mood, you know- ”
kie throws a pillow at jj, effectively shutting him up. “gross, jj. don’t put that image into my head.”
“look, whatever,” sarah interrupts, rolling her eyes. “but once he’s patched up, we’re having a conversation.”
rafe puts his hands up in mock surrender. “your house, your rules.”
he’s only trying to irritate john b, and it works. rafe smiles to himself when john b starts grumbling about it being his house actually, storming off to his room, undoubtedly to pout. sarah follows, and kie and jj trail after them a moment later. jj is the only one to look back, throwing a concerned look in pope’s direction before inevitably disappearing into john b’s bedroom.
rafe looks back at barry, all smugness disappearing from his expression when he sees just how bad the wound really is now that pope has cleaned it up a bit.
he really doesn’t care if he has to talk to sarah later - all he knows is that if barry dies, he’s sure as hell not going to be outside listening to sarah bitch at him when it happens.
rafe takes one of barry’s hands, ignoring the way pope’s eyes flicker down to the movement before returning to his work, remaining silent.
“you love him,” pope says suddenly, still not looking at rafe. he’s began sewing up the wound, his hands surprisingly steady.
“what’s it to you?” rafe asks defensively, but he curls his fingers tighter around barry’s, a little possessively.
pope just shrugs, like he doesn’t really care one way or another. “just an observation.”
he ties off the thread and cleans up the remaining dried blood from the wound with a rubbing alcohol-soaked cotton ball before applying a bandage and tugging barry’s shirt back down. it’s a lost cause, the shirt, but rafe appreciates the gesture anyway.
“it’s good to know you care about someone other than yourself,” pope says, finally turning towards rafe and giving him a hard look. “maybe there’s hope for assholes like you after all.”
rafe opens his mouth to say something bitchy back, but pope just claps him on the shoulder, stands and cracks his back, then leaves the room.
it’s just rafe and a passed out barry now. at least this way he can openly worry about his boyfriend, gnawing on his lip as he thinks about what it’ll be like if barry doesn’t make it.
rafe has been living with barry for some time now, ever since ward kicked him out. it’d started with sarah - she’d ran away and no one had known where. rafe ended up finding out through topper, but never seemed to get around to telling ward. don’t ask him why - he really doesn’t fucking know.
after sarah’s disappearance, ward’s temper reached its peak and rafe was kicked out mere weeks after his sister had gone missing. he stayed with topper for a while at first, often making trips to the cut to harass the dirty pogues who’d whisked his sister away from their supposedly happy family and her happy relationship with one of rafe’s closest friends.
when topper’s mother got sick of rafe loitering around her house, the only place left to go was barry’s. it’d helped that they’d already been screwing around for a while, initially so rafe could get discounts on coke, then turning into a full blown something over time.
their relationship has a definition now. barry had manhandled rafe into bed one evening and declared them to be officially official. meaning a relationship, meaning a bunch of figuring shit out as he goes because rafe sure as shit has never done any of this before.
he’s also pretty sure other relationships don’t involve hard drugs and robberies and shootings, so he thinks he’s got a few more obstacles to overcome than most when traveling the rocky road of a first relationship.
“rafe?” sarah calls, suddenly re-entering the room. “think we can talk now?”
rafe looks at her for a long moment. she looks different - happier, maybe? rafe wonders if he looks the same. maybe not right at this moment, with barry’s limp, clammy hand resting between his own, waiting on bated breath for barry’s eyes to blink open.
the need to hear barry’s slow drawl of coUnTrY cLUuUb is almost too much to bear, so rafe cuts his line of thought off, nods at sarah in answer to her question, and follows her outside.
they don’t talk for a long while, just staring out across the yard in silence. it’s not uncomfortable, per se, but rafe still wishes she’d say what she wants to say so he can get back inside. back to barry.
“this is a one time deal, you know,” sarah finally tells him.
when he looks at her from the corner of his eye, she’s staring directly at him, her expression serious. “i know,” is all he can come up with.
“i expect a thank you, just so you know.”
“i’m not thanking you,” rafe says immediately.
sarah actually smiles, just a little bit, then parrots back, “i know.”
“what did you want to talk to me about?” rafe asks eventually, pulling a cigarette from the pack he keeps in his pocket and lighting up.
sarah doesn’t answer for a moment, then shrugs, looking down at her hands. “i hate you, for the way you’ve treated me. and my friends. but sometimes i miss you. i miss my brother. what happened to you?”
it’s almost like she’s just thinking aloud, but rafe knows it’s a genuine question. one he doesn’t have an answer to. because he doesn’t really know where he went wrong - just that he could never seem to get anything right. not as a kid, not as a teenager, and not now as an adult.
“i don’t know,” rafe answers honestly, for the first time in a long time. he doesn’t know what else to say, so he tells her, simply, “but thank you for helping anyway.”
yeah, yeah. he wasn’t going to thank her, blah blah blah. whatever, shit happens.
the back door swings open, and rafe and sarah turn to watch barry stumble out of the house, still clutching his side but finally looking like a living, breathing person instead of a corpse.
“ain’t i tell you them things gonna rot your lungs?” is the first thing he says, plucking the cigarette from rafe’s lips and taking a drag.
rafe rolls his eyes, but lets barry rope him into a hug, careful not to bump into his wound.
“ugh, gross,” sarah huffs, making fake gagging noises before going back inside. rafe doesn’t miss the small smile that’s playing on her lips, though, and he’s suddenly filled with warmth.
it’s disgusting, and he’s surprised that he’s missed it. and that maybe, deep down, he’s missed his sister, too.
she said this is a one time deal, but maybe there’s a possibility of reconciliation. it’s a thought to revisit at a later date, rafe decides, wanting to focus on this moment right here, where barry is blessedly alive and safe.
so rafe just leans down a bit and buries his face in barry’s neck, taking a deep breath, feeling barry inhale and exhale around his cigarette as they stand in each other’s arms, companionable silence falling around them.
“you done saved my life, country club,” barry says, the first to break the silence.
rafe smiles against barry’s neck at the nickname, pressing a kiss to barry’s pulse point before pulling back a bit to look at him.
“yeah, you’re the only one who knows how to empty the septic tank,” rafe replies, deadpan.
barry throws his head back and laughs, one hand coming up to cradle the back of rafe’s head, pulling him down gently so he can press a kiss to his forehead.
“damn good thing you saved my ass, then.”
“sure is.”
when barry kisses rafe, he tastes like tobacco and blood, sour and metallic on his tongue. rafe should think it’s gross, but he just kisses barry harder, trying to scrub all the thoughts he’d had about barry dying from his memory.
it helps to have barry here, real and solid in rafe’s arms, lips soft against his own.
“can we get outta this shithole and back to our shithole?” barry asks when they separate, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “‘m pretty sure them shits would object to us christening their couch.”
rafe, for a moment, is tempted to try just to see what kind of reaction he’d get. but instead of following the urge, he lets barry guide him back to topper’s stolen car.
“who’s ride is this?” barry asks when they’re both buckled in, backing away from the routledge property.
“topper’s,” rafe explains, smirking to himself. “i, uh. borrowed it for the time being.”
“for the time being?” barry questions, and when rafe looks at him, barry is looking right back, brows raised and amusement written all over his face.
“mhm,” rafe confirms, matter-of-factly.
barry just glances around the car, a slow smirk spreading across his lips. “sweet ride. think ol’ topper’d object to a little christening, too?”
rafe starts the car, letting his own smirk grow. “as a matter of fact, i think he would.”
barry blinks at him, then stares at his nails casually.
“so where we gonna park her?”
rafe just smiles, peeling away from the routledge house, cruising into the night.
“i know just the place.”
#rafebarry#outer banks#okay so the place they park and (redacted) is literally the figure 8 country club#also this leans more towards fanon!rafe and somehow both follows canon and doesnt#it’s all over the place tbh#lastly hope u all can spot the jjpope crumbs 🥰#my fics#ask#anon
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Perfectionism
Request: HELLOO, I’ve had an idea for literally months in my head but I wouldn’t be able to write it as good as you 🥺 Would you mind doing a Spencer reaction to his crush having bad body dysmorphia that they’ve been hiding from the team (they’re working for bau) but at a case or smn someone they’re interviewing comments negatively on their body and they break down once they think they’re alone? But Spence sees and reaches out and it’s really wholesome and soft? I’m a sucker for angsty fluff I’m sorry 😔
A/N: Thanks for the prompt anon, much appreciated! I hope this does justice to your well thought-out idea. I hope it satisfies all your angsty fluff needs! Side note, to everyone of my followers/readers I hope you know you’re beautiful and finding love/happiness within yourself takes time, but trust the process, loves ❤️ Enjoy!
Category: Angsty fluff
Content warning: Swearing, mention of violence, self degradation
Word count: 2.3k
---------------
You stood in front of the mirror inside the police department’s washroom. You finished applying another thick layer of foundation on your face. You knew applying this much makeup to your face wasn’t good. Your dermatologist even recommended against it and advised you to let your skin breathe for a while to prevent over clogging your pores. He didn’t understand the problem of doing that though.
Without the concealer masking the dark circles under your eyes, you’d probably look dead. Maybe even worse. Without the foundation, your acne and healing acne scars would definitely bring unwanted attention to your face. It was certain to happen.
You had to wear them all the time, especially at work. You thought of how JJ probably never had to go through this. Her face was free of any sort of marks or blemishes. She always looked alive with her bright blue eyes with no heavy bags insight. No wonder Spencer had a crush on her a few years back.
Your thoughts were interrupted by the vibrations of your phone on the bathroom counter. You looked down to see Spencer’s name pop up informing you it was time to interview the suspect. A sigh left your mouth as you started packing up your products into your travel beauty kit.
As you walked out of the door, you noticed Spencer at the end of the poorly lit hall leading back out to the main lobby. When he noticed you were walking down the hall towards him, he smiled and waved. Sometimes you thought he was the cutest genius in the world.
“Hey, didn’t know you were waiting for me,” you said.
He shrugged. “Thought it would be nice for us to walk to the interview room together.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
He nodded as you both started walking towards the interview room. You couldn’t help noticing he kept on looking at you. Especially your face. What if he saw your acne scars? Or even the acne itself? What if he was just noticing how strange your face looked?
You stopped walking. “Why do you keep staring at me?”
He stopped walking as well as he gave you a questionable look. “What?”
“Is there a reason you keep looking at my face?” You asked.
He shook his head. “No, no reason, I just-”
“You just what?” You said before he even finished his sentence.
Spencer was taken back by your tone. Your words made it seem as if he was attacking you. You could tell from his confused facial expression. Before he could get a chance to pull his words together, you started walking again.
“Forget it. Let’s just focus on this interview.”
Spencer watched as you walked by him. He trailed behind you, trying his best not to say anything else. You knew you shouldn’t have snapped at him the way you did, but you couldn’t bear the possibility of him pointing out a flaw. You just knew he could see everything you tried so hard to hide.
As you two reached the interview room door you felt Spencer gently grab your arm. You turned to him to see how concerned he looked. Before you said anything he made sure to get the first few words out.
“Y/N, I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable back there. Whatever’s troubling you I’m here to help you get through it,” he assured you.
You smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate you, Spence. For now, let’s put what happened behind us for now and go interview this guy.”
Reid smiled as he gently squeezed your arm before letting you go. It felt nice having him reassure you, but he didn’t even know what he was reassuring you about. Maybe he didn’t notice your facial imperfections at all. Maybe he was genuinely admiring your face.
You opened up the interview room to see a dark-haired, middle-aged, white man sitting across the table. He was well put together with a buttoned-up blue shirt, black tie and his hair was slicked back. Physically he matched the profile perfectly. He looked as if he exuded arrogance as your profile detected the unsure would be like. He tried to keep a cool and emotionless demeanour, but by his furrowed eyebrows and wrinkling forehead, he was becoming impatient.
“Hello, I’m agent Y/N Y/L/N and this is Dr. Spencer Reid. Adam Boyer, correct?” You said as you and Spencer took your seats.
“Glad you can read documents, agent,” he scoffed.
“I wouldn’t get so smart-mouthed yet, Boyer. According to some sketchy transactions between you, John McNeil and Robert Morrison it seems as if you have a lot to hide for someone so vocal,” you said.
He squinted his eyes at you. “What does this even have to do with anything?”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but those two men are dead. You were the last person to contact both of them the day they died. A transaction of over half a million dollars goes missing and you get mad and-“
“I don’t know what you’re trying to imply, agent, but I didn’t murder my colleagues over money. My company makes more than that in a day, so spare me of your pathetic accusations.”
Before you could reply, Spencer jumped in to level out the tension between you and Boyer. He opened a file on the desk and pointed to a bank statement.
“It says here on your financial records your company is $1.5 million dollars in debt. We discovered Robert Morrison and John McNeil both gave you back their shares of the company to equate $500,000, which is legally a breach in the company’s contract for workers, including yourself, to share, distribute or give away company shares without a reasonable cause. According to the list of reasonable cause you failed to mention bankruptcy or were too arrogant at the time to force something like that happening to you,” Spencer said.
With everything he said, you could tell Boyer’s cool exterior was wearing off. He looked glossier in the face, started fidgeting with his tie and refused to look directly at Spencer. He decided to direct his attention to you instead.
“Well, isn’t that a huge mistake on my part, ain’t it?” He asked directly to you.
“Huge mistake or huge flaw in your plan of getting away with murdering your colleagues? I think it’s the second one, Boyer,” you said.
He leaned back in his chair without breaking any eye contact with you. He folded his hand in front of his chest. You had to admit he made your feel a bit uncomfortable.
“What else do you think?” He asked.
“I think you murdered your colleagues when they found out you had taken back their share of the company to pay back your debts. They would have ratted you out, got you fired from your own company or even worse, the whole company would have shut down and you’d have nothing left.”
“Nothing left,” Boyer said seemingly to himself.
“Yes, absolutely nothing. Your wife divorced you, took full custody of your two boys and now you spend your days throwing your money-approximately $1.5 million dollars-on trying to buy love from escorts,” you said.
It was as if something had woken up inside of him as he almost pounced across the table. Both you and Spencer got out of your seats with Spencer using his arm to block the front of you. It was as if it was a natural instinct for him to protect you before bracing himself.
“Sit down,” Spencer demanded.
“At least I have escorts willing to ride my dick. You couldn’t even pay a male stripper to look at that face of yours. Where’s the pretty agent who was in here before? If I’m going to be accused of a crime, I’d rather be accused by someone half decent looking. Get my fucking lawyer on the phone,” he proceeded to yell.
Though you shouldn’t have felt as bad as you did by the words he said, you did. The blunt force in his voice was vicious. The way he looked at you in disgust. His disgust was too real. He was bold enough to look at you the way everyone wanted to, but was too cautious to do it in front of your face.
“I’ll get your lawyer on the phone, you psycho,” you whispered before turning around to leave.
“Don’t forget to bring the real eye candy in as well, sweetheart,” he said.
You didn’t bother looking back at him or even Spencer. You felt your eyes get heavy with tears and knew it would be terrible to show weakness to such a vile suspect. You rushed out of the room before Spencer could stop you or even follow you close behind.
You rushed towards the washroom as your tears were at the brim of your eyes. As you reached the door, you paused. What if someone was in there? What if Emily or JJ saw you crying? You retracted your steps and decided to go to the family washroom instead.
You didn’t even wait until the door was fully closed before letting out your tears. You heavily wept to yourself as you replayed everything he had said to you. Spencer probably stood there agreeing with everything he said, word for word. Your face being hideous, JJ’s beauty surpassing the little you had, no one wanting you. You backed up against the wall to avoid the mirror, to avoid the disgusting reflection in the mirror.
The only reason you looked up was that you heard the washroom door open. You saw Spencer peak in. When he saw the tears running down your face, he didn’t hesitate to go over to you with concern written all over his face.
“Y/N, what’s wrong? I hope he didn’t get to you,” he said as he reached out his hands.
You assumed he was going to try to wipe the tears from your face, so you pushed away his hands. You couldn’t stand the thought of him touching your face if he thought it was hideous. You didn’t even want him looking at you directly. You looked down to avoid your face being in the presence of his.
He attempted to lift your head up by placing his hand on your chin. You flinched at his touch and moved your head out of his grasp. New tears started to spill from your eyes as you looked at him with despair.
“Can you stop, Spencer?” You wept.
He looked at you confused. “Stop what?”
“Looking at me. I know my face is ugly, okay? Everyone knows and it’s just degrading for you to pretend not to notice,” you snapped at him.
“Y/N, what are you talking about? There’s nothing wrong with your face.”
“Spencer, I know you see it. My acne and acne scars. It doesn’t help that my face is always shiny and my cheeks are chubby. You don’t have to pretend to be blind to it for the sake of my feelings.”
“You thought I was looking at you earlier because you think I think you’re ugly? Y/N that couldn’t be further from the truth.”
You rolled your eyes. “Then why were you looking at me? Be honest.”
“Because I think you’re gorgeous.”
“Ugh, Spencer, you don-”
He grabbed both your hands in his big ones, grasping them tightly. You looked down at your hands in his and then looked up into his eyes. He looked longingly at you. You could see the genuine look of love in his face.
“Y/N, I know what you’re going through. Body dysmorphia’s not an easy thing to fight off by yourself, but I want to assure you every day that I think you’re the most beautiful person I know; both inside and out.”
You let out a deep breath as you felt round three of tears coming to your eyes. Honestly, you couldn’t think of a moment you felt genuinely pretty. His words could move mountains.
“But if Adam Boyer could-”
“Please don’t let a psychopath make you feel unsure of yourself. He only belittled you because he lost control of the situation and decided to target you. His idea of a perfect girl is someone he can dominate, which makes him disgusting not you.”
He let go of your right hand as he wiped away a tear making its way down your face. You grasped his left hand hard as he touched your face. It still made you feel uncomfortable, but you were happy Spencer cared deeply for you.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have touched your face if you’re not comfortable with that yet. I know it takes time to breakdown this idea of what perfect is especially with so many beauty standards being pushed by society, but I’ll be here to help you realize you’re the most beautiful you. I wouldn’t want you to be any other way,” he said.
You smiled at his words as you wiped away the few stray tears running down your face. You had to admit you liked it better when he did it. You leaned your head back, took a deep breath, let it out and then looked at Spencer.
“Thank you for being you. I wouldn’t want you to be any other way as well,” you said.
He smiled. “I’ll always be here for you, Y/N. If you want me to be that is.”
“I do. I really do.”
“Maybe after we’re done with this case we can do something together to help you remember the beautiful person you are.”
“I’d love that.”
You both walked towards the washroom door. Spencer made sure not to let go of your hand until you two left the washroom. You felt as if he wanted you to grasp onto the positive energy he had for you. You felt uplifted in a way. This must be the benefit of the Spencer Reid effect.
—–
MASTERLIST
#spencer reid#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fic#mgg#matthew gray gubler#spencer reid prompt#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#mgg x reader#mgg x y/n#criminal minds fic#gubler-me-up#dr. spencer reid#dr.spencer reid#criminalminds#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds imagine#spencerreid#spencer reid request
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