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skiller0dani · 3 years

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Broken Paradise | Spencer Reid

M A S T E R L I S T Criminal Minds Masterlist

smut requests info wc | 9.1k summary | you run into an ex boyfriend during an interrogation. except it's you being interrogated, and it's your ex boyfriend doing the interrogating.

song

another draft just waiting to be published. really obsessing over Spencer Reid.

also there's mentions of abortion, nothing graphic it's literally just a short direct reference and nothing else.

You always hear people say your past will come back to haunt you, you just didn't know they meant literally. You leaned back against the metal chair in the interrogation room, you've been in here for what felt like hours. You couldn't complain too much seeing as it's your fault that you're in here at all. You wished they'd come in and tell you something, give you an update, say hi, say anything. You seriously underestimated how maddening silence can be. You knew little about the murders the police were investigating, something about druggie women being found mutilated. The pictures they showed you were downright horrifying, you'd need at least one solid bottle of tequila to forget the bodies of those poor women.

The Las Vegas Police Department were a bunch of judgmental pigs, the only reason they'd brought you here at all was because you were from the wrong side of the tracks. Both of your parents were users, and if you were lucky, also dead. They probably assumed you used as well, and seeing as you seemed to fit the killers physical preference the police brought you in for questioning and also for your own "safety". But really you knew they didn't give a damn about your safety, they just wanted to know where you got your shit from. No matter how many times you insisted you didn't use, they kept pushing. When one male officer started throwing your parents in your face, you stood up and promptly broke his nose. That's how you landed yourself cuffed to the table, tightly.

"Oh thank you so much for gracing me with your presence once more." You smiled sarcastically as another officer walked in, wait he's definitely not an officer. The man who entered the room had cleanly cut dark hair, and wore an expensive looking black suit. Not the run of the mill beat cop that you were expecting. You bit back any other fiery remarks, if you wanted to get the hell out of here you needed to cooperate. Diana would be expecting you, not that you were itching to see her but after letter number 75 of her begging you to swing by- well lets just say that Spencer's mother was never the problem. You doubt Spencer even knew Diana was contacting you, which was good. You wanted nothing at all to do with him.

"I'm Agent Hotchner here with the FBI I need to ask you a few questions." This man was all business, you seriously had to fight the urge to fuck with him a little bit.

"I'd shake your hand but..." Your eyes flickered towards the table, where the police officer who's nose you broke had very tightly handcuffed you. In fact he cuffed you so tightly that your wrists were already raw and bleeding a bit.

"They wouldn't have handcuffed you if you didn't punch an officer. Did he hit a nerve?" The Agent's face was level, and gave nothing away as to what he was thinking. You tongued the inside of your cheek, your foot tapping quickly on the concrete floor. These assholes were really starting to piss you off.

"He was being a dick, how many times do I have to tell you guys that I don't use? Are your heads filled with sawdust?" You snapped roughly, yanking away from him to lean back in your chair despite the biting pain in your wrists.

"That's not why I'm here Miss Y/L/N." Agent Hotchner said, his voice even and his eyes on you. The way he was looking at you made you feel exposed, like he could read all of your secrets because of the way your eye twitches when you're nervous. You hate these damn FBI profilers- wait.

"How's Spencer?" It's a shot in the dark, a very long shot in a very dark tunnel. Before the scumbag left you without warning, Spencer mentioned that someone was trying to recruit him for the BAU department of the FBI. The profilers. Spencer left and never came back, two guesses as to where he went. Your eyes locked onto the Agent's in front of you, and from the slight upturn at the corner of his brow you knew you got him. Spencer is here.

"You know Dr. Reid?"

"So he's a Doctor now, doesn't surprise me. Let me guess, he has PHD's and Doctorates in Math, Chemistry and something to do with Geography right?" You say as casually as you can and you can only hope this man is wondering how you happen to know so much about one of his Agents.

"Unless I'm speaking to Spencer Reid, I want my lawyer." You snap, leaning back. You know Spencer won't talk to you, and unless they have physical proof you're guilty of something they'll have to let you go.

Check mate.

Spencer couldn't ignore the questioning glances from his fellow teammates even if he'd wanted to. He watched you lean back in your chair from the other side of the one way glass, what are the chances that you are wrapped up in this case? You of all young petite blonde women in the metro area. The world was fucking with him, it had to be.

"She a friend of yours?" Derek's voice was the first to cut through the silence.

"No." One word answers were the safest route, the shortest diction would give little time for them to draw information out of the way Spencer was speaking. There was a tremble in his tone, he knew there was. Spencer prided himself for having little to no baggage behind him, but of all unopened suitcases- his previous relationship with you was the largest one.

"Really? Cause she seems to know a lot about you." Derek said, his eyes fixed on Spencer. The tension in the room was palpable, and suddenly it felt hard for Spencer to breathe let alone compose himself. After shoving free from the small viewing room, Spencer found it a lot easier to exist without the scrutinizing gazes of his coworkers.

"You hear her?" It was Hotch, with a patiently guarded expression on his face. Spencer and drugs wasn't an uncommon problem, although in the past his poison of choice was dilaudid. Now there's a string of drug related murders and a possible junky who seems to know a lot about him.

"Yeah, from before the Bureau." Spencer clarified quickly, and Hotch honestly looked the tiniest bit relieved.

"Think you could talk to her, she's made it obvious she won't talk to any of us." Hotch said, and from the tension building in Spencer's shoulders he can tell there's some bad blood between the two of you. Spencer took a deep breath before taking all of those unresolved emotions and forcefully shoving them down. Deep, deep down. It's time to do a job, there's a missing woman who needs to be saved.

When that door opened again, you thought you'd won. You thought they were coming to begrudgingly release you. Instead you were met by the big doey eyes of Spencer Reid, your first and last love. All the air was stolen from your lungs in an instant, the memories flood back and you can't stop them. The anger rises then, this is the first time you've seen him since he left you. The one person you trusted not to leave you did, he left like everyone leaves you. Like your parents left you. He's very clearly all business, his face hardly giving anything away as he swiftly reached down to unlock the handcuffs around your wrists. If you wanted to walk away from this without your heart getting broken you needed the upper hand.

"Heya baby." You smiled, you hoped that maybe it would disarm him. At least a little, but when you looked at him all you saw was a stoic and focused expression. Nothing? Really?

"I need to ask you a few questions Miss Y/L/N." Spencer's voice was controlled, even in tone. His voice... God his voice could bring you right to tears. You could still hear him saying how much he loved you with that stupidly angelic voice of his. Spencer was very quickly taking control of the situation and you did not like that at all.

"You know you can ask me anything, there's no secrets between us right Spence?" You leaned forward on your elbows, trying desperately to ignore the throbbing in your wrists. One of Spencer's biggest giveaways is eye contact, when he's upset or feels guilty he'll avoid looking into your eyes. You turn your gaze up to meet his, but once again you're completely disarmed to see him unabashedly looking into your eyes like it isn't a problem at all. Either Spencer has amnesia and forgot who you were, or what happened between you two doesn't hurt him like it hurts you. You refuse to believe it's the latter, he just forgot. Definitely forgot. Somehow he must have forgot.

"Nina Fredricks, have you ever seen her?" He slid a photo in front of you, you recognize her as the woman who was most recently kidnapped. Most recently being 12 hours ago so chances of her still being alive are unfortunately slim. You nibble on your lower lip, come to think of it you actually might have seen her.

"Yeah, saw her at Winchell's, little coffee shop on the corner of 5th? You remember right Spence? You used take me there all the time, I loved giving you head under the table." You smirk, but it quickly falters. Whatever training he went through must have stripped him of all emotion and turned him into a machine. Built only to solve cases and do nothing else. That wasn't the case however, you just didn't know how good Spencer is at compartmentalizing his emotions. He could only imagine the looks on his coworkers faces upon hearing you say that, at least he can just say you were lying to try and illicit some sort of reaction from him. They don't have to know that you totally used to slip under the table and swallow his cock in a diner full of people. They don't know about that side of him, and Spencer doesn't plan on changing that.

"When?" He presses on with the interview, and surprisingly you're forthcoming with information when you're speaking to Spencer. Even after all this time, he has this annoying power over you. This innate ability to get you to do whatever he wants you to, although you would prefer him to use this special ability in the bedroom. No! No you have to eradicate thoughts like that, Spencer hurt you worse then anyone else ever has. He hurt you worse because he made you think he was going to stay, and then he didn't.

"Few nights ago, she looked really messed up though. Winchell threw her out, definitely doped up on something. Before you ask, no I didn't see where she went." You sigh, finally giving up flashing Spencer the all too familiar 'you win' look. Usually a victorious grin stretches across his face, but not this time. Those times are over.

"Did you see anybody with her?" You're not entirely surprised that Spencer isn't writing any of this down, that stupid eidetic memory. You're fooling yourself if you think he forgot what happened, Spencer never forgets anything. Ever.

"Every detail matters."

You genuinely try to remember if anybody was with Nina, and while you didn't see anyone you remember shortly after she left the diner there was this horrible screeching sound. "After Nina left I heard what sounded like tires screeching on the street. Never saw a car though."

"Thank you Miss Y/L/N, is there anything else you can remember about that night? Anything that sticks out?" After a few moments of quiet contemplation, you shake your head.

"Am I free to go?" You ask quietly and Spencer shakes his head.

"Unfortunately we're going to have to keep you in protective custody. We'll move you to a more comfortable room, but you'll need to stay in the precinct."

"But why? I'm not a drug addict-"

"You are exactly this killers type, and we don't know if looking a certain way is more important or if being a drug addict is when it comes to him choosing his victims." Spencer explains simply, his mouth moving a mile a minute as he stands. When he turns his eyes back on you, you realize he's waiting for you to follow him. You stand and follow him out of the cold interrogation room to a comfier waiting room. It has a table and chairs, vending machine and a big plush couch.

"You can stay in here, we'll let you know when it's safe to go home." Spencer says, and this is when you finally catch the crack in his façade. His eyes flicker away from yours, trying to disguise the waver in his voice, the desperation to vacate the room as quickly as he can. But now that you've seen him break, even a little, you're going to crack him wide open. You won't let it go that easily.

"Spencer?" Your voice is soft, with an innocent drawl that Spencer can't resist. He turns his head to look at you, swallowing thickly when his eyes meet yours.

"You do remember me don't you? Once upon a time we were in love." You see the rest of his coworkers trying and failing to look like they're not listening. But it's not like you care if they do, Spencer will though but luckily his back is to the door. After a few moments of tense silence, he finally speaks.

"Of course." It's not the answer you were hoping for but it's an admission, which is more then you were getting earlier.

"Do you miss me Spencer? Miss me in bed next to you?"

"W-Well I-"

"Do you miss when I used to cook your favorite dinner every night when you came over? Do you miss how I loved you unconditionally?" Your voice was steadily growing more hostile, and you knew there were tears building in your eyes. This has all been building up for so long you know you can't stop it now.

"Y/N-"

"Do you miss being able to fuck me whenever the hell you want? Is that what you miss the most Spencer? You must not miss me that much because when you left I didn't even get a fucking call! You didn't even say goodbye, you just left!" You were yelling now, with tears streaming down your face. Spencer had slyly shut the door by now, he knew this was going to happen the second he saw you. He wished he could help you understand why he had to leave the way he did. He was trying to protect you, and he still firmly believes he's protecting you. Look what happened to Haley, what happened to Maeve. Spencer loved Maeve and he lost her like Hotch lost Haley, and Spencer can't lose you. Not you. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if something happened to you.

"Please try to understand-" You never even let him get close to finishing his thought.

"Understand what? Leaving me? You said you loved me! How could you love me and then leave me alone? While I was pregnant!" Your hands flew to your mouth, you honestly never planned on telling him that. Spencer's eyebrows rose high in the air, and you can tell you just knocked the wind out of him. Spencer's hand reached back for the door handle, "pregnant?"

"Spencer I'm sorry I didn't mean to tell you that way." You tried to explain, and despite the fact that he'd abandoned you, you were dead terrified of him leaving again now that he was stood in front of you.

"Do I have a child you never told me about?" His voice is shaky, afraid. Now you can see all his coworkers heavily invested in your conversation.

"N-No, I...I got rid of it." You said softly, watching the mix of emotions swirl across his face. When his trembling palm curls around the door handle you launch forward to grab at his arm.

"I'm sorry, please don't leave. Not again-" But he's pulling his arm free from yours and turning out of the room, nearly slamming the door behind him.

Spencer ignored the questions, he ignored the looks. His legs gave out somewhere near one of the couches. He stared ahead numbly, trying to make sense of what you'd just told him. Trying to somehow wrap his head around the terror of you being pregnant and then the grief of the lost possibility all at the same time. By now, JJ and Rossi had shooed everyone away from Spencer. Which he was immensely grateful for, the only thing he wanted now was to be alone. Completely and entirely alone.

Pregnant.

The word kept replaying like a scratched record, screeching in his ears every time he closed his eyes. Spencer pressed the balls of his palms into his eyes when he heard the distinct sound of footsteps approaching him. Whoever it was, he already wished they would go away.

"Damn Kid, I didn't expect you to date such a spitfire." Derek joked as he sat down, doing what he can to ease the tension. Spencer didn't even bother looking up at him, his head stubbornly lowered and his gaze locked on the ground. Derek racked his brain for something adequate to say, but what was there to say? How could Derek find a way to make this right? Spencer just found out you were pregnant with his child and that you'd got an abortion all in the same 10 seconds. It was a lot to process.

"You gotta talk to her Spence." Derek's voice was less humorous this time. Spencer wrung his hands nervously, his eyes finally lifting to meet Derek's. A sharp shake of his head and a flash of the tears in his eyes and Spencer stands, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands. Time to get back to work. Someone has to talk to you, Derek can't stand of someone crying by themselves like that.

"It's not really my place-" JJ tried to argue as Derek stood in front of her.

"Someone needs to talk to her, and Spencer isn't going to." Derek said, rubbing a hand down his face as his eyes flickered back to Spencer. Who was currently throwing himself headfirst into the geographic profile of the killer they're looking for, because maybe if he works hard enough the rest of the entire world will just disappear. Maybe if Spencer keeps working and does nothing else you'll just vanish from that room and he won't have to deal with this. It's not that Spencer wants you to go away, the opposite actually but there isn't room in his life for you anymore. It's not safe. Spencer would rather be alone for the rest of his life then put you in danger because he's lonely and misses you.

"Alright, fine. But only for Spence." JJ says, jabbing a finger in Derek's direction before reluctantly heading towards the room you're in. She glances back at Spencer, who has become consumed by the map in front of him. JJ can always tell when something is bothering him, he has physical giveaways. The way his shoulders are rigid as he scribbles something on the whiteboard, the furrow in his brow that lets her know that while he's working on something, his mind is elsewhere. The tremble in his palm from trying so hard to hold everything back, everything he doesn't want anyone else to see. To someone that doesn't know Spencer, he looks perfectly composed, his attention and focus completely on his work. JJ knows him well enough to know that his mind, and heart are sitting tattered in this waiting room on the couch next to you.

JJ creaks the door open, flashing you a smile that makes you absolutely hate her guts. Spencer probably has some puppy love crush on her, she's beautiful. Long blonde hair, slender body, stunning smile. Everything you're not.

"Hi I'm Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, but you can call me JJ." The way she's looking at you lets you know that she came in here to try and understand. You're not in the mood to talk to her or anybody else in this stupid building except for Spencer. You want to hate him so bad but you can't. You can't because of how much you fucking love him. The bastard.

"Look I know you're probably not all that excited to talk to me-"

"I want Spencer." You snap, and by the look on her face you can tell she isn't surprised that you said that. JJ chewed on the inside of her cheek, how does she say that Spencer doesn't actually want to talk to you?

"Dr. Reid is needed elsewhere right now, but I'm willing to talk if you need to."

"You don't have to lie Agent Jareau. I know he doesn't want to see me, he's doing that thing where he pretends to work on something while secretly obsessing over something else." You say casually, and the fact that you can pick Spencer apart so easily is somewhat off-putting to JJ. But that could be her unrequited crush on him shining through, deep down JJ doesn't like that some other woman knows Spencer better then she does. While you'd love to sit here and wallow in your misery, a much worse idea strikes you then. If you can't talk to Spencer why not fuck with the woman who's clearly in love with him.

"And the little twitch in his fingers, the slight clench in his jaw. See that? He keeps rolling his shoulders back," while everything you were saying isn't a lie- it's guaranteed to annoy her. JJ stayed quiet, she hated that she didn't know what the goddamn twitch in his fingers meant.

"He's tense, but there's more. He can't stand still, keeps shifting from foot to foot. It's driving you crazy that you don't know why he's doing that." You laugh as her annoyed eyes flash to yours for a second before settling on Spencer again.

"You're a profiler, you can't figure it out? That doesn't surprise me, you've probably never considered the fact that Spencer has an unusually high sex drive." Your words completely stun her, and JJ's cheeks flush profusely.

"It means he's horny." You say casually, leaning back against the couch. You love the blush on her cheeks, and the fact that she's clearly biting her tongue to avoid saying something rude. You love that you got under her skin, and yes you're aware that you're a bad person. Now that you've said it, JJ can't get it out of her damn head. Spencer is horny. Spencer isn't a virgin. The thought of Spencer having sex makes JJ feel a sick turning in her gut. She was happy believing Spencer was a virgin, believing that nobody has gotten to experience that side of him yet. Happy to believe that he was untouched, but apparently that was not the case. Now that the illusion has been shattered, JJ feels as though the jagged pieces of it are cutting into her, and she knows you enjoy watching her bleed.

"Trust me, I know just what to do to relieve the tension, I know how to get him off quick. Do you?" You smile as you let your eyes shamelessly drag down his slender frame.

"You're only saying this because you want to control the conversation, and you hate that I see him everyday. That I can talk to him whenever I want, about whatever I want. You wouldn't lash out if you didn't feel intimidated." JJ says calmly, rendering you just as speechless as she was moments ago. The pain that was sent stabbing into your heart caused you to recoil back from JJ, trying to hide your misty eyes from hers. You can't let her know that she's winning.

"Look, we can both get nasty all we want but that's not why I'm here. I just want to help." JJ says sincerely, but you still don't budge. JJ taps her fingers against the wood of the table, thinking about leverage she can use to get you to talk to her.

"Spencer fell in love again." JJ says finally, and this time you turn your gaze up to look at her. You push your emotions down, no matter how much it hurts to hear her say that. Who is she? Are they still together?

"If you want to know more about her, then I suggest you talk to me. An answer for an answer, fair?" You can see her trying to bait you, and damn her because it's working.

"Fine." You grumble, leaning back fully against the couch. Your eyes catch Spencer's for a second when he turns to face the table, presumably looking for a map you remember being on the right side. You point to the right side of the table and Spencer looks nothing but annoyed when he follows your direction and finds what he's looking for. He hates that he functions better as a person when you're around.

"What's the deal with you and Spence?" JJ asks, and there is a lot to unpack with that question.

"Gonna have to be more specific." You say with a shrug, your eyes hesitantly meeting hers.

"How long were you two together?"

"2 years 8 months." You answer without pausing, causing her eyebrows to raise. JJ didn't expect you to remember down to the month, it's been years since you and Spencer were together. That's not a short fling like JJ originally thought, that's a substantial amount of time.

"What's her name?" You ask, desperate to get information on this mystery woman who has stolen Spencer from you.

"Her name was Maeve." Was. You don't miss how she says was instead of is.

"Why do you hate Spencer?" JJ looked like she cared, but you know it's not you she cares about. She's in here to try and protect Spencer in some way, she's acting like you're the villain.

"I don't hate him. He abandoned me. Just packed up and left, no note, no goodbye. Haven't heard from him since." You snap, hating the amount of emotion that was in your voice. JJ's eyebrows furrow, that's just so unlike Spencer. He's not cruel, he's never been cruel but that...is cruel. You see a look flash across her face.

"Sweet boy isn't as sweet as he seems." You say softly, folding your arms over your chest.

"He must have had a good reason." JJ insists, her eyes landing on Spencer's back as he continues to map out the hunting grounds of the killer. You know he's just wasting time to avoid coming back in here. Spencer is a certifiable super genius, he finished mapping it out a while ago. He's just pretending he hasn't finished yet.

"Spence still with her? Maeve." Her name felt like poison on your tongue, and JJ slowly shook her head.

"She died in front of him, really tore him up." Your heart cracks a little bit at her words, you can't imagine how hard that must have been for him. You see JJ open her mouth to ask something else when the door opens, and a man with darker skin pokes his head in.

"JJ? Reid found him, we gotta go." As soon as he arrived, he's gone with JJ hot on his heels. She sends you a smile before she rushes out of the room, and you see Spencer following her path out. They're going to arrest a murderer who has an arsenal of weapons at his disposal.

"Spencer! Y-You can't go, it's not safe!" You blurt from the doorway, and he pauses. His eyes find yours as he holsters his pistol, an unreadable expression on his face.

"It's my job." And that's all he says before he disappears out of the precinct, leaving you once again.

You couldn't quell the anxiety turning in your gut, you're not sure how to exist while Spencer is out there hunting a murderer. You wished that you could turn off the part of your brain that's still so damn attached to him, but no matter how hard you try you can't silence your heart as it calls for him. You're not sure you could survive the constant fear of losing him if you ever ended up with him again, this life is too much for you to take. Maybe he knew that all those years ago when he left you the first time, Spencer always could see right through you. Maybe he left because he knew staying would only lead you to live a life of constant fear, maybe he was trying to protect you. Either way the reasons don't matter anymore because he left, and nothing can change how badly that hurt you.

"Does it normally take this long?" You ask a passing officer, who in turn shrugs before continuing on his path. You feel like you're going to explode or vomit, or both. It's been over 2 hours, should it be taking this long? What if he got shot? What if he's dead right now and you're sitting here with your damn thumb up your ass worrying about him like a useless housewife? Feeling useless, that's what you hate the absolute most. Knowing there's nothing you can do to stop a bullet on it's trajectory to his heart.

"Spence, are you sure you're okay?" You hear a flurry of voices and when his name graces JJ's lips you're pushing out of the room. Your eyes find him instantly, and then travel to his palm which is pressed tightly to his neck. His bleeding neck. You feel your heart rate spike, hammering like the hooves of wild horses as you move without thinking about it. Before you even understand that you've moved, you're stood in front of him. Your eyes try to scan his neck for wounds but his palm covers the location the blood is coming from.

"C'mere." You grab his wrist and yank him back towards where you saw a first aid kit earlier. Luckily your 2 and a half years of nursing school taught you how to stitch a wound and perform basic first aid. Spencer offers no resistance as you yank him to a back corner of the precinct, pushing him to sit down. You grab the first aid kit, slowly prying his hand from his neck. Your eyes mist at the wound, it's a bullet wound. Looks old though, there's scarred tissue. This had to have happened a few weeks ago at least. You see the thin line of the scar, the middle section seems to have opened up again.

"You didn't wait long enough for this to heal." You scold gently, not missing how his eyes watch you with an intensity smoldering in them. You miss the way he used to look at you, the way he's looking at you right now. You miss being the center of his whole world, you scoff. Look how easy it was for him to walk away from you. You threat a needle to stitch the center of his wound shut again, and when you look for numbing cream you discover that there isn't any.

"Spence, there isn't any- I can't find the numbing..." Your voice trails off as you begin to yank things out of the first aid kit to search for the numbing cream. Spencer's hand catches your wrist and it's only just now that you realize you're trembling.

"It's okay. I'll be fine." He settles back against the chair he's sitting in, turning his head to reveal his neck to you. You hesitate, the Spencer you remember had a very low pain threshold. All of a sudden he's expecting you to stitch him up with no numbing agent?

"Y/N, I can handle it." Spencer says again, his voice firmer than before. You swallow a lump in your throat before reaching forward to begin stitching. You press the needle against his neck, eyeing him to gauge his reaction as you puncture his skin to make the first thread. To your surprise he hardly flinches, a small quirk in his lip is the only giveaway that he's in pain. Is this the same man that got squirmy getting a shot? That would shy away from the needle? Now he's sitting here letting you stitch him up without moving a muscle, without even flinching? The more time you spend with him the more proof you get that this isn't the same Spencer that left you all those years ago.

"How did it happen?" You ask, wondering how he could have survived a gunshot to the neck. He shifts uncomfortably.

"Got shot, two inches away from hitting my jugular." Spencer says it so casually, but you're so stunned that you halt your movements for a moment.

"How many times have you been shot?" You ask, your voice hoarse. Is him getting shot a common occurrence?

"Twice. Also got shot in the leg." The casual way Spencer talks about it almost convinces you it isn't a big deal. But it is. It's a bullet ripping through his body, and it's happened to him on two separate occasions. You finish stitching and bandaging him up, your hands moving away from him as soon as you can.

"Thank God you went to nursing school or I'd be six feet under." He jokes. You know he's kidding but still, the thought of it makes you feel lightheaded.

"Don't say stuff like that." You snap softly, and you know Spencer can see the fear and vulnerability in your eyes. You hesitantly steal a glance up at him once he's stood up only to find he's already looking at you. You shy away from his intrusive gaze, and you could practically feel him probing at your mind. Reading your thoughts as if they were written down for him. You hate that he can always tell what you're thinking, you hate that it was so easy for him to read you. Like a damn book. You have to fight the urge to reach out and grab his hand, it's what you always did when you felt lost or unsure. Spencer was always there to ground you and bring your mind back out of your thoughts.

"Miss Y/L/N?" You hear JJ's voice gently interrupt you two. You shoot away from Spencer as though you were doing something scandalous. He doesn't move an inch.

"Yes!" You blurt a little too loudly, suddenly flustered being so close to him. Why does your sharp tongue always leave you when you need it?

"You're clear to go home."

"I can take her." Spencer speaks up before JJ has a chance to offer, and she knew he would. You swallow a nervous lump in your throat, your palms shaking.

The SUV has dark tint, you weren't expecting that. The second you sat back in the plush leather seat your mind flew to lewd thoughts of you leaning over the center console, Spencer's hand in your hair as he helps you take his cock in your mouth. You steal one glance at Spencer, his right hand holding the steering wheel loosely. Your cheeks heat up as you glance down between his legs, get ahold of yourself.

"The address is-"

"I remember." You knew he would. That damn eidetic memory ensured that he never forgot anything. It broke your heart a little, because some naïve part of you was hoping he remembered because it meant something to him. You hoped he remembered the way to your house because he didn't want to forget, because forgetting it meant forgetting you. But you know the reality, you know that he remembers because he has no choice but to remember. His memory is too good to allow him to forget anything, even if it was something he wanted to forget. You're grasping at straws and you know you are, holding onto that foolish notion that Spencer still held onto the memories. That he still held onto the gifts you gave him, crying softly in the night like you did sometimes.

"JJ told me about Maeve." You say softly into the silence, and you saw Spencer swallow thickly out of the corner of your eye. "I'm so sorry you lost her Spence."

"Thank you." He honestly wasn't expecting you to say that, to acknowledge the pain. Because acknowledging the pain meant that you knew he loved her. He did love her. But it was a different love then the love he feels for you. It was special, but so are you. You're special too.

"Have you...dated anyone else?" Spencer can't help but ask as he subconsciously continues the drive to your house. A drive he's committed to his memory, a drive he never wants to forget. You shift to look at him, there were a few you dated. You know when you tell Spencer about them that it'll drive him crazy.

"Tony Anderson." You say and just like you thought, Spencer groans deeply. Spencer detests Tony, they were practically mortal enemies when he still lived in Las Vegas.

"Tony? Seriously?" His tone is incredulous as his grasp on the steering wheel tightens ever so slightly.

"He was a good fuck at least." You know you shouldn't wind him up, but he hurt you for Christ's sakes. He deserves a little bit of pain too. Spencer flinches, a look of anger and something else simmering in his eyes.

"Please tell me you didn't have sex with Tony."

"Why does it matter?" You shouldn't enjoy upsetting people as much as you do. But there's still a small part of you that's convinced that Spencer deserves this.

"Because I can't live with the fact that somebody else has gotten to feel that perfect cunt of yours, let alone Tony." His crude words take you by surprise, and you can't fight the gasp that escapes your mouth.

"Well before you start digging your grave, relax. I never had sex with Tony." You decide to put him out of his misery, and you see the relief physically flood his body. You lean against the window, the next admission from you will leave the air heavier in it's wake.

"I've never slept with anyone but you Spence." You realize it's been a long time since you've seen Spencer let alone had sex with him but you could never bring yourself to sleep with someone else. It's not as though the opportunity never presented itself, you had plenty of chances to have sex with someone else. But you couldn't because there's still a stubborn part of you that doesn't want to betray Spencer.

"Really? Why?" Apparently this revelation surprised him.

"Because no matter where you go I will always belong to you." You snap without thinking, blinking tears from your eyes as you avoid his gaze. Spencer fell silent then, and you know he feels guilty. Probably because he's slept with someone else in the time since he's been with you.

"I know you have and it's fine I'm not trying to-"

"I haven't." Spencer corrects instantly, his eyes meeting yours through the darkness of the SUV. If he could see you he would see the look of utter surprise on your face. It's not as though Spencer was an overly sexually ambitious person when you dated, but you figured he probably slept with at least one person. "I haven't slept with anybody else either."

"I know someone that wants to though." You grumble without thinking, your mind drifting to JJ and the obvious crush she thinks isn't obvious. Spencer tilts his head in a way that resembles a confused puppy, you resist the urge to ruffle his hair.

"Who?"

"Agent Jareau." As soon as the name slips past the threshold of your lips, Spencer's jerks the wheel in surprise. You see a dark blush color his cheeks as his other hand reaches up to steady the wheel.

"J-Jennifer? No way! She's my best friend." You nearly laugh at his flustered state, and normally you would push it a little further but you decide to let it go. You don't want to completely destroy the way he sees her, you know you already destroyed the way she sees him.

"You have no idea what a catch you are Spencer." You tell him as you unbuckle your seatbelt, getting ready to exit the SUV. Spencer reaches over and places a warm hand on your wrist to stop you from leaving, his eyes searching yours for an answer he isn't sure you have.

"Come in?" You ask hopefully, you're not ready for him to leave again. Damnit why did he have to turn up again after so long? You were just starting to think that maybe you could move on and find someone new. You were finally starting to feel okay, and then Spencer reappears and turns your entire world upsidown all over again. Deep down you know that nobody will ever compare to Spencer Reid, and you don't want them to. You don't want anyone to be like Spencer, you want him to be his entirely own person. It's what you love the most about him, is his ability to be himself no matter where he is or who he's with. All of his little quirks, the things about himself that he doesn't notice but you do.

"Yeah." His answer comes across as an exhalation of breath, and you try to hide how excited you are. You want to hold on to any moment you can, stolen moments that you take as you please with no regret whatsoever.

"Nothing has changed." Spencer muses once you unlock the front door and push inside the darkened living room. You blush, admittedly nothing about your small townhouse has changed. It's all basically the exact same as when Spencer saw it last. You rub a hand down your arm as Spencer's eyes go wandering. Trailing over the curtains he remembers hastily pulling closed to protect your decency on more than a few occasions. His gaze then travels to the couch, all those movie nights you two spent curled up together. Or when he got you into Star Trek and you couldn't stop watching it. Pain stabs his chest for a moment, it's hard to remember everything he had to let go of to get the job he has now.

"I miss you too, you know." Spencer says off-handedly. It takes you by surprise, the sureness in his tone is jarring. He sounds so comfortable admitting when he's vulnerable, it's never been easy for you to be vulnerable with him. Maybe that's part of the reason he left, maybe you drove him away by shutting him out. His eyes meet yours, a look so soft in his eyes it feels as though his gaze is caressing your skin. You bite your bottom lip to keep the emotions at bay, what is it about this man that makes you so emotional?

"I never said I missed you." You try to snap, to add an edge to your tone. But instead it came out watery and broken, and in turn Spencer reached up to swipe away a falling tear.

"But you do." You can't even deny it, it's obvious.

"Damn you Spencer Reid, I was finally starting to feel okay again." You cry softly, curling your arms towards your chest in an attempt to shrink away from him. He cups your cheeks in his palms, turning your face up towards him.

"I wasn't." He admits before his lips are on yours, and it's not frenzied and desperate like you've been picturing all these years. It's slow and calculated, soft and passionate. Firm but with a tenderness that makes your knees buckle from the gravity of it. Spencer's fingers card into your hair, pulling your head closer to his. He nips at your lower lip, his arms crushing you against his chest. You throw yourself into him, your arms holding him as tightly as you possibly can. Afraid that if your vise grip loosens, even for a second, that he'll slip through your fingers like trying to hold onto water. You almost don't want to let your eyes close, you don't want him to disappear again.

"I missed you, I miss you-" You gasp against his lips, grabbing fistfuls of his dress shirt. Spencer continues to move his lips languidly against yours, backing you against the wall. His hand ghosts down your side to the hem of your shirt, his fingers toying with it.

"O-Off." You beg, and in an instant Spencer is pulling your shirt over your head. His eyes land on your bare chest, shocked that he almost forgot that you never really wear a bra. His hands curl around your back, drawing your chest up into his awaiting lips. His mouth curls around your hardened nipple, your hand flying into his hair from the contact.

"Is this a dream? Please tell me you're really here Spencer." You beg, almost becoming lost in the emotions again. His eyes flutter up to meet yours, his mouth reluctantly leaving your nipple. He brushes his lips over yours, his hand trailing down your stomach towards the waistband of your leggings.

"This is real, I'm here baby. I'm home." Hearing those words was too much, and you launch yourself into his chest as the first tear trickles down your cheek. Your lips press sloppily to his, the kiss messy and wet as his hand slides into your leggings. His fingers find your wet slit in an instant, desperately parting your lips to slide a lithe finger into you. Your body reacts to him instantly, in a way that surprises you. Almost as though it too was crying out for him, keening into him and begging for his touch as much as your mind is. Spencer hauls one of your thighs up to hook around his waist as he presses another finger into you. You cry out softly into the quiet air, accompanied only by the labored breathing fanning across your face.

"I need to feel you, I- I need-" You can barely get the words out as he steadily pumps his fingers into you. His mouth on yours silences your desperate pleading, his chest firmly pressing your back into the wall. You missed being able to feel him and you hate that you forgot what it feels like to have his body on yours. It's been so long you forgot what the sting of his cock feels like. What it feels like when you stretch wide open around him, to feel like you're being ripped in two. Spencer continues his pace, his thumb rolling your clit to provide the extra stimulation you're missing. It's not enough to satisfy you, but its enough for you two cum. Which you do. You gush around his fingers as you gently come undone, your back arching into him.

"Please," You beg wantonly, curling your other leg around his waist as his hands hook underneath your thighs. Spencer's lips press against yours, moving slowly against your own. You know now that you will never stop loving Spencer, and that he's completely ruined you for life. You'll never be able to love anybody else without your heart wandering back to him. But then again, you don't really mind because you don't want to be with anybody else. You don't want to love anybody else. You just want him, only him. He pushes into your room, walking the entirety of the way with his eyes closed and his mouth pressed against yours. He has the layout of your house mapped out in his head? He never even bumped into anything until he was dropping you unceremoniously on the bed.

"Tell me what you need, I'll give you whatever you want." Spencer husks against you, hovering above you. Your fingers are already unbuttoning his shirt before you even have the chance to respond to him. You know instantly what you want, what you need from him.

"I want all of you, give me everything." You plead, your lips practically chasing his as he kneels up over you. He's being soft tonight, and that's something you appreciate greatly. You need to feel his love, you need to feel everything you know he can't quite put into words. His hands are shaking as he undoes the button and zipper of his dress slacks before kicking them off the edge of the bed. You stare up at his naked body, looking as though it's been sculpted by the Gods specifically for you. Spencer smiles softly at you as he pulls your leggings down your legs, leaving little nips and kisses on your inner thighs as he goes.

"Hurry." You groan, nearly clawing at his bare shoulders to pull him back up to you. Spencer chuckles at how eager you are, watching with interested eyes as the head of his cock breaches your folds. You reluctantly stretch open as he continues his intrusion, his fists curling tightly around the sheets. Christ you weren't lying about not sleeping with anyone else, you're so tight it's making him feel a little lightheaded. Inch by inch Spencer presses into you, his forehead resting against yours once his pelvis is sitting flush against yours. Sure, you've had sex with hi before but never have you felt this connected to him. Spencer sits like a gentleman and lets you adjust to his size, trying to take a few deep breaths himself. It's hard to breathe with your heat sucking him in with a vice grip.

"Can I move?" You're surprised by how collected his voice is, but the furrow of his brow is a giveaway that he's losing the battle to stay stock still inside you.

"Yes, please." You moan, unashamed. Spencer gently draws his hips back, pulling himself nearly all the way out before swiftly sliding back into your inviting cunt. He sets the pace slow and deep, his hands reaching up to lace through yours. Every time the head of his cock nudges that spot deep inside you, you can feel your toes curl. Your head slams back against the pillows, unable to keep your gaze on him any longer. You feel yourself becoming one with him, and you wish you could capture this moment somewhere other then just in your minds eye. Your memory is nowhere near as good as Spencer's, he'll be able to recall every detail of this moment up until the day he dies. But over time, this memory will fade for you. It'll wear out, all the details becoming fuzzy and blurred. If he's not here in front of you, you'll forget and you don't want to forget.

When the night draws to a close, and the moon has reached its peak, Spencer slips carefully out of bed. It chisels away pieces of his heart as he carefully gets dressed, reaching for his go bag which he'd brought inside upon realizing that he'd be staying a while. He pulls out a t-shirt he'd worn recently and leaves it folded neatly at the end of your bed, something for you to hold onto when he's gone. Spencer's cheeks are wet with tears as he leans over and presses a kiss to your head.

"I love you." Is the last thing he whispers in the space between you two before he's gone again.

On the jet, Derek can't keep his eyes off Spencer and that helplessly broken look on his face. A book is laid nestled in Spencer's lap, but Derek can tell he isn't really reading it. Trying to bother Spencer into opening up probably won't work, but it's worth a try. Derek has to do something and this is all he can think of.

"You okay kid?"

"Yeah fine, why?" Spencer draws his eyes up from the book, his gaze meeting Derek's from across the table. While Spencer might be a talented actor, he can't lie to Derek.

"Look I know how hard it must have been leaving her again-"

"Did you know that on average the FDA allows a minimum of 1 rodent hair per 100 grams of peanut butter? They have to allow themselves room for error just in case of-"

"Alright you win, forget it." Derek sighs, turning his gaze out the window. In an instant Spencer drops his peanut butter spiel, turning back to his book. A guaranteed way to get people off his back is to start rambling about something boring or gross, they usually leave him alone pretty quickly. It's not that Spencer doesn't appreciate Derek's concern, he just doesn't want to talk about it. He can't talk about it, because every time he imagines how you're going to feel when you wake up, tears come to the surface of his eyes. He hates this case more than all the rest even though they saved the victim. Spencer hates this case for ripping open an old wound, one he thought healed.

He was wrong.

When you wake the next morning you knew he'd be gone. That didn't stop the tears from coming when you reached over and felt cold sheets. That didn't stop the tears from coming when you cried how much you loved him over and over again even though he couldn't hear you. It doesn't change how badly this hurts, how much worse it feels compared to the first time he left. Your eyes catch the shirt folded at the end of the bed and you grab it instantly. You pull it over your body and you lay down in your bed, inhaling his cologne that you know will fade over time. Eventually his scent will disappear, removing all traces that this fabric belonged to him at all. Every trace of him will disappear over time, every mark from your body will slowly vanish. When it's all gone, you'll be left with nothing more than a t-shirt that's too big for you, and a cold reminder that the man you love will never truly be yours. A reminder that every time he comes home, he leaves again.

A cold reminder that this world is cruel for bringing you Spencer Reid, only to rip him from you again and again.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #spencer x y/n #spencer x you

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yourtamaki · 3 years

Text

the wanderer’s lodestone

dabi x f!reader

word count: 3.6k

warnings: violence, detail of injury, murder, morally grey reader, dry humping, mutual masturbation, oral (m receiving), angst ending

if there was one thing dabi has learned over the years, it was that people always fell in one of two categories. there were those who would meet his gaze and those who avoided it. he’s not sure which is worse. the brave ones and their wide eyes, always staring at his marred skin with such sick fascination it made his palms itch in the worst way. or the spineless bastards whose eyes stayed glued to the ground when he walked past only to gawk at him like a sideshow freak when they thought he wasn’t looking.

two sides of the same judgemental coin, all part of the same corrupt society that preaches love until someone doesn’t fit their mold. it was getting harder to differentiate between them and at some point he stopped trying all together. what did it matter if he couldn’t remember how it felt to be regarded like a human being? he didn’t need to be human to carry out his vengeance, he only needed to be alive.

that changed when he met you.

it wasn’t his cleanest break-in but he couldn’t care less, too busy focused on not passing out from blood loss. it was shit luck that the alley he had chosen to rest in was part of a new hero’s patrol route. the kid was clearly scared out of his mind when he realized dabi wasn’t just another thug on the streets, his pale face illuminated in the night by blue flame. it was a shame, for a rookie the kid had talent with his dagger quirk, being able to throw and call them back at will, even change their trajectory midair. he could’ve made it far in the ranks.

dabi wondered if they’d bury him with his daggers, scorched bones and all.

it wasn’t his problem anymore. all he cared about was finding something clean to wrap the nasty cut on his abdomen. there was no special reason he chose your bedroom window to climb through. it was the first apartment with a fire escape he stumbled upon just far enough away from the ashes of the pro hero that he wouldn’t have to worry about being followed. your dim window was the first he reached and it didn’t take much effort to jam a knife between the glass and the lock to force it open. he thought the place might be empty for the night when he stepped inside and heard no signs of life. he got to work tearing the bedsheets in long strips and was nearly done when you walked in.

there were people who met his gaze and there were people who avoided it. you were neither.

you saw him.

even in near darkness, your eyes found his and didn’t flinch at the monster that stared back. the room stayed silent as you seized each other up save the drops of blood that slipped past where he held his wound shut and splattered on the floor.

“could you not rip my sheets up?”

your voice was enough to startle him from his initial shock, twirling the knife once before going back to cutting up the fabric. “i need them more than you do. i’ll be gone in a minute, scream and i’ll kill you.”

you scoffed but didn't reply, walking across the room and flipping the light on in a bathroom he hadn’t seen earlier. a wave of irritation washed over him as he watched you rummage through drawers. who would turn their back to someone who broke into their home? did you have no self preservation?

you walked back, tossing several things onto the bed before making your way back deeper into the apartment. “close the window on your way out.”

and with that you’re gone. a part of him wanted to chase you, to tie up the loose end but the memory of your eyes kept him frozen in place. the thought of those same eyes looking at him with fear made his gut twist and he didn’t understand why. he grabbed whatever you tossed at him, the few strips he’d managed to make and left the way he came. it’s not until he’s found an empty alley to rest in did he inspect the items. ace bandages, an entire bottle of hydrogen peroxide, fish wire and a sewing needle.

your kindness tasted like pity and acid. he couldn’t convince himself to spit it out even as it burned a hole straight through his tongue.

dabi hated you and he etched that hatred into his skin, stitch by painful stitch. hated you for reminding him that he had yet to purge the weakness from his soul. the same weakness that forced him to walk past your apartment over the next few weeks. it was stupid to stick around in the city for so long, especially after killing that hero. he told himself it was to make sure you’d upped your security since he’d tumbled into your home but it sounded the excuse rang hollow with no one to hear the lie.

it became such a mindless part of his routine it took him a moment to realize one night that your window had been shattered open. his throat tightened almost painfully, your eyes flashed in his mind and he was flying up the fire escape a moment later.

a lean figure was pulling open drawers when the sound of dabi stepping on broken glass made him whip around. it’s a pain, not being able to turn the man into fuel for his ever hungry flames but he didn’t think you’d appreciate him saving your house just to burn it down.

the man’s movements were clumsy and uncoordinated, taking desperate swings that left him wide open for dabi to sneak under his defences. he’d just managed to grapple the intruder into a chokehold when the bedroom door creaked open and both men’s attention snapped to you.

“you done yet?” you asked and dabi had to force himself to speak under the full weight of your gaze.

“were you here the whole time?” you nodded, acting far too casual for his liking. “why the fuck didn’t call the cops or something?”

“i figured you’d show up.” you cocked your head at the incredulous look he threw you. “what, you thought i didn’t notice you coming around all the time?”

he clicked his teeth in annoyance. “well, what do you want to do with him then, sweetheart?”

it was a test and it was clear you knew it, glancing down at the intruder that had started weakly clawing at his arm. dabi would kill the man regardless of what you said but your answer would speak volumes on where you stood in this society rotted by false gods.

“i don’t care what you do, just dump the body far from here.” you didn’t blink once as you sentenced the man to death, didn’t blink as dabi shifted his hold and the echo of a snapped neck rang out in the room. you held steady and a begrudging respect rose up in him.

he heaved the man over his shoulder, being mindful to keep the head hidden from your line of sight. you’d already passed his test, there was no need for you to see it any longer then he’d already made you. he just had to know if you were putting on a front or not. if you were, it would’ve been all the more likely for you to put in a tip about a certain villain that lurked around your neighbourhood.

but instead you had held his gaze, didn’t look at him any differently and dabi didn’t want to know why he felt so relieved for it.

he honoured your request, carrying the body through back alleys and shadows to the very edge of the city. his thoughts wandered, as they always seemed to where you’re considered, wondering how soon he could see you again while he watched the flames climb high into the night sky.

“a tarp? seriously?” he’d lasted two full nights before his feet led him back to your fire escape and the brand new thick tarp that covered the missing window. you were in bed this time, reading a book the title of which he couldn’t make out with the dim light from your bedside lamp, not even bothering to look his way as he made himself comfortable on the window sill.

“shitty landlord is taking his sweet time replacing the glass so yeah. tarp.”

“you should move. i hear there’s a lot of break-ins going on around here.” he didn’t like how much your huff of laughter to his poor attempt at humour felt like a reward.

“not all of us can afford to live in the hero sectors, you know?”

the venom in your voice when you mentioned the hero sector caught him off guard. they’re one of the more subtle forms of corruption present in all cities with a hero presence. living in the hero sectors ensures one’s total safety from any threat. from robberies to natural disasters, a hero’s priority is focused on the rich who can afford the protection. no hero will ever admit to it, though. on paper, the sectors don’t exist. and yet the heroes flock to the same handful of neighbourhoods the moment a threat occurs. another underhand tactic to keep the poor in their place and the rich comfortable.

you’ve become that much more interesting in his eyes.

“so, you here to bleed all over my sheets again or what?”

dabi scoffed, “no, but i was hoping you could take these stitches out and we’ll call it even for saving your ass.” he could rip them out himself but where was the fun in that?

“yeah right. who saved who first?” despite your grumbling you waved dabi over, gesturing for him to sit on the bed while you went off to grab supplies from the bathroom.

he expected you to pull up a chair once you returned but instead you placed a hand on his chest and pushed him onto his back. it took all his concentration not to flinch when you straddled him, your hand trailing under his shirt, fingertips grazing his burnt flesh as you pulled his shirt up, bundling the material and forcing it into his mouth.

“you might wanna bite down on that, i’m all out of painkillers.”

there was a gentleness in how you cut the stitches from his body, how you took care to dab an alcohol soaked cotton pad over each one. it made his chest go tight, unable to recall ever being this close to someone and not walking away with new scars.

dabi found himself lulled into a trance by the rhythm of your hands, a trance that shattered as your fingertips strayed from the path of the cut, following the rows upon rows of staples that held him together instead. he watched your face closely, waiting for the disgust and horror to swim to the surface but your eyes kept the steadiness they always seemed to have.

“does it hurt?” you whispered.

he wanted to tell you that it didn’t hurt, not in the way you thought it did. that the nerves beneath his burnt and darkened flesh had died long ago and he couldn’t even feel the patterns you were now tracing on his stomach. it’s the unblemished skin that hurts, that always hurts. the parts of him that still cling to life.

the human brain processes pain differently than any other stimulation it feels. pain never dulls, never vanishes no matter how long it lasts. every waking moment, his own mind tortures him with fresh waves of pain and never lets him forget the countless staples that pierce his flesh and tear him open everytime he moves.

there’s so much he could tell you but the words refused to come out, burning up in his throat and leaving him choking on the ash.

you didn’t push when no answer came, prying his shirt from his clenched teeth and pulling it back into place. “you’re good to go, stranger.”

his hands that had been clenched by his sides twitched when you started to move away from him and judging by the tilt of your head, it didn’t escape your notice. you settled back over him and this time he couldn’t stop his hands from gripping onto your waist, trying to stop you from shifting.

“stop that.” he said through gritted teeth.

you gave another roll of your hips and smirked when his fingers dug deeper into your sides, “stop what?”

“you’re a fucking menace, you know that?”

“yeah. but you like it.”

he hated that you were right. but he’d be damned if he gave you the satisfaction of seeing him lose it from a little grinding. he used his hold on you to push you back slightly, spreading his legs even further until you were straddling his thigh instead. syrupy smugness filled his veins seeing you flustered for the first time since he’s met you.

“go on, don’t get shy on me now.” you were quick to shake off any reservations, growling at his teasing tone and grinding down on his thigh with a desperation that sent a thrill down his spine. “just like that, make yourself feel good.”

he couldn’t wrap his head around how right this felt. there should have been a moment of hesitation from either of you as you walked hand in hand over a line you’d have no way of crossing back over but instead you melted into each other, all his senses heightened and flooded with you, you, you.

he was so focused on memorizing every minute expression that crossed your face he didn’t realize you were asking for help until you moved his hands from your waist to your ass. he was more than happy to take over, setting a brutal pace that had you crying out, bunching his shirt up in your fists to try to stay grounded.

“c’mon baby, let go.”

you cum with a strangled cry and he can feel every pulse and clench of your cunt through the layers that separated you. your whole body shook in his arms as he helped you ride out your high before you collapsed on top of him, your head buried in the crook of his neck. he let your hands wander up and down his sides but grabbed hold of your wrists when they started to make their way between his legs.

he was about to tell you to forget about it, to not worry about the ache that sat heavy and hard in his jeans but the pout on your face when you looked up made him freeze.

“can i?” you asked, so close your warm breath fanned his face.

“you don’t- i didn’t…” he didn’t want you to think that this is all he’d wanted from you, that this wasn’t why he was compelled to return to you over and over. you seemed to understand his silent struggle, gracing him with a small smile.

“i know. i want to.” any hesitation vanished at the challenging look you gave him while you freed his cock from its restraints. you held your palm out to him and dabi spat into it, never breaking eye contact as you do the same and wrapped your hand around him, coating his length in the mixture of you. you took as much care touching him as you did cutting his stitches, careful and sure with each stroke, sweeping a thumb over his sensitive tip to gather the precum that leaked like a faucet.

as you worked his cock, he grabbed your leg that had fallen between his and pulled it up until your thighs were spread over his own. he couldn’t help the low groan that escaped him when he slid a hand into pants and past your panties and felt just how wet you were, sinking two fingers inside you just to hear you whine from the stretch.

it wasn’t the best angle but dabi made it work, crooking his fingers and letting his rough palm slap against your clit with each thrust. when your eyes started to roll back into your head, he used his free hand to grab the back of your neck, pressing your forehead to his and making sure your vision was filled with nothing but him.

“keep your eyes on me, don’t fucking close ‘em.” your mouth fell open as you nod, somehow keeping your pace steady even as he felt your walls fluttered around him. “show me that pretty face you make when you cum, sweetheart, i wanna see it again.”

“‘m cumming ‘m cumming oh fuck- ! ” you gasped as your orgasm hit you. he moaned right alongside you as you squeezed just underneath his blunt tip in a sudden death grip, the pain-laced pleasure was almost enough to push him over the edge.

you dropped to your knees quickly as you felt his cock twitch in your hand, popping the head into your mouth and rolling his heavy balls in your hand. the sudden sensation of your wet, hot tongue pressing at his slit had him shooting rope after rope of cum down your throat and his head spun when you swallowed every drop and showed him your empty mouth.

dabi pounced, tackling you to the ground, cradling your head before it could hit the floor and crashing his lips onto yours so hard he already knew he’d have to give a gruff apology when they ended up bruised. he chased the bitter taste of himself that lingered on your tongue and shivered when your tongue ran across his scarred bottom lip and you didn’t recoil at what you felt. frantic, rough kisses melted away into a lazy make out that banished all but one thought from his mind.

he could get used to this. he wanted to get used to this.

“hey,” your voice pulled him back down to earth, something soft glimmering behind your eyes and dabi didn’t want to look away until he figured out what it was. “i wanna show you something.”

you wiggled out from beneath him, making your way to the window and pushing the heavy tarp out of the way before stepping onto the fire escape.

following you up the winding stairs felt natural, like he was born to witness the small smile you threw over your shoulder to make sure he was keeping up.

the view at the top was underwhelming. too many buildings pressed too close together, all the exact same height as the one you two stood on stretching as far as the eye could see to create the most painfully ordinary view he’d ever seen. but it was quiet. the roar of the streets below couldn’t be heard at all and dabi hadn’t realized how loud it all was until deafening silence took its place. and it was cold. cold enough that he couldn’t tell if the ache in his lungs was from the freezing air or the hazy memory of white hair that floated through his mind.

it was the closest thing to peace he could remember feeling in years.

“you like it?” you were watching him closely, hopping from foot to foot and he didn’t know what possessed you to come out wearing only your flimsy sleepwear. you seemed proud of the little hidden treasure you found and something stirred in his chest thinking about how you chose to share it with him.

“‘s nice.” he said, reaching out to cover both your hands in his and using just enough of his ever burning flame to warm you both. he found himself waiting once more for the sudden twist of revulsion in your features, for you to jerk away from his touch but you sighed in contentment as heat seeped back into your fingertips. you brought his hands up to your face, making him cup your cold cheeks and closing your eyes to savour the warmth.

it was as you nuzzled into his palm that dabi realized exactly how dangerous you were to each other. undeserved kindness and crooked smiles and sharing secrets. he hadn’t earned any of these things and yet you handed them to him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

and he’ll take them. because that was the nature of the fire he had been cursed with. it takes and takes and takes and you’ll be left with nothing to show for it but the grey ash of your generous heart. and in return you’d lull him with the false belief that he is more than the hatred that flows through his veins, that there was still a person buried under the mountain of rage he carried inside him. he doesn’t think he could survive without it but you would make him believe that he could.

he’d destroy you. you’d ruin him.

this, whatever this was that was growing between you was doomed to end before it had even started. he should leave you on this rooftop, leave the whole damn city and forget whatever you had tried to awaken in him. but dabi could never resist the call of destruction, would always want to know exactly how hot and how bright things could burn. what did love look like when it’s been bathed in flames?

dabi pulled you closer, determined to find out.

dedicated to: @saintdabi

#dabi x reader #dabi smut #dabi imagine #bnha x reader #bnha smut #mha x reader #mha smut #bnha imagine #mha imagine

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leonicscorpio · 3 years

Text

Batboy Headcanons because I made this for me but you all can enjoy this too if want. (May contain mild NSFW)

Dick:

Has a weird relationship with unwanted gaze and the attention he receives because of his physique. He genuinely likes the attention but he draws the line when people start getting touchy. Just because he's shirtless working out doesn't mean he gave you consent to touch him.

Has good dieting skills but he's in his mid-late 20's and his metabolism has 0 signs of slowing down. He once ate a whole xl bag of M&M's in front of Steph and Babs and both said they wanted to murder him because he won't gain a pound.

Dick has ADHD and I'm sorry if you don't think otherwise. He has hyperactive type ADHD and while he's gotten better at controlling his symptoms he still stims stretching and flexing his arms and shaking his arms.

While not so much in Gotham, Dick is very politically active and volunteers at voter registration and working with organizations with the mission of police demilitarization in Blüdhaven.

Dick is a very sexually driven individual. However, I don't think it's entirely healthy. His ADHD also comes into play with this but Dick just needs to have a release at least twice a day or he'll feel physically sick.

I don't know if you all have seen male gymnasts. But Dick, like the rest of them, has FREAKSISHLY large biceps. Everyone talks about Dick has the best ass in the bat family and while Jason may be larger and stronger, Dick has the best physique.

Dick's apartment is littered with sticky notes in places such as the fridge/in front of his computer. If it's not written down and in a place where he can't ignore it, it's not going to get done.

I'm sorry I know everyone says his birthday is in March but I have to go to the older Nightwing comics and say his Birthday is December 1st. I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me this man doesn't give off Sagittarius energy. You can't. I respect you but you can't look at that and tell me that man isn't a Sagittarius or has super heavy Sag in his birth chart.

Dick's at home doing nothing but chilling? You best believe he's gonna be shirts off, tits out, and rocking some blue flannel PJ's.

Dick is currently the only member of the family asides from Barbara who is regularly attending therapy. And he actively encourages each of his brothers and sisters to go every time.

After his Agent 37 days. He sits down with Jason and talks about having to use a gun and how hard it was. And how having to kill people has affected him. When he had to kill the KGBeast (Agent 37 days he snapped his neck) I headcanon Dick just trauma v*mit*d. Jason hugged him and just consoled him.

It's canon that Dick has anger issues but to me, it's not explored or talked about enough and not a lot of people like to talk about it. Dick is very much the 'if I ignore it it'll go away' type when it comes to his anger and he can brush most insults or harassment off fine enough. But when he breaks, he makes Jason look like a saint. I'm talking slamming you into a wall and screaming in your face angry. He'll be profusely apologetic afterward but still.

Despite popular belief, I don't think he's that bad of a cook. He's just not very experimentative. He can follow a recipe and does look at some guides. But to me, Dick Grayson just is that guy who is like Chicken veggies and rice are a meal that I can cook 4-6 times a week.

Dick has a slight fear of dentists. He doesn't have bad teeth and has good dental health. He just doesn't like the idea of a drill going in his mouth and the few times Bruce has to take him to a dentist he had a panic attack every time.

Everyone lives for the fics where Jason beats the shit out of Tim and everyone is just like lol well Bruce and Dick just forgives him. No. When Dick found out it was Jason who beat Tim to the ground, Dick was literally seething and told Jason "Pick on someone your own size or else I'll make you wish you back in that f'ing coffin."

Dick's favorite foods (some based in Canon*): Milk Chocolate*, Cereal*, Asparagus, Bananas, Banana flavored candy, Hawaiian Pizza* (suffer its canon) Rum, thanksgiving Turkey.

Jason:

He may be the self-diagnosed black sheep (rightfully so) of the family, but Jason does genuinely love spending time with his siblings. Whether it be sharing memes with them on social media or just randomly showing up where they are and abducting them to go get ice cream/coffee/snacks.

He'd probably attempt to harm you if you told him this to his face. But he is the closest acting to Bruce out of all of the family. In terms of mannerisms and inherent warmth and kindness behind a dark façade.

Has two moods: either exceptionally, almost neat-freak levels of clean, or his life is completely falling apart and Jason can't tell you for sure what color his floors are because there's so much stuff scattered about.

Despite their initial hatred of each other, Jason truly feels closest to Tim and Tim is the only person asides from maybe Barbra who he can just talk to without feeling any judgment.

Jason only smokes when he's extremely nervous about an operation or a hit. For those who don't know criminal justice cigarettes are the fastest way to get genetic material on someone. That being said he does still like to smoke occasionally.

Me, plus a lot of people give him this sort of 'Lazarus Rage' as I like to call it. When he's in the heat of a mission or if he's getting upset/angry his vision will get blurred with green, and it feeds on his anger and just gets perpetually harder to contain until he releases it. Jason has gotten much better at controlling it. But as he will tell Tim or Babs, he's "seeing green" which means they need to be careful because Jason could kill.

Everyone says Dick is the mother hen. I see you, I accept you, but let me raise you. Jason came to realize that he died because of his rash decision to go after The Joker alone. If Jason finds any of his siblings out acting alone, or even at the very least without Oracle. Jason WILL forcefully interject himself and ask them what the fuck they think their doing.

I've said it before and I'll say it again. Trying to get close to Jason is hard. He will degrade you can attempt to try to get you to hate him before he lets you in (that cheeky Tsun of him)

He genuinely cares for and supports all of his siblings but has been rough on them needlessly. But if Bruce is being the distant or absent parent he is, you better believe if any of the siblings drops him a text or a call, Jason will be there in a heartbeat.

He's the most physically powerful of the whole Bat Family. You don't understand because of his time in the League, his time with the All-Caste, and having abused Venom for a time, he can snap an arm bone like it's a carrot with little effort.

Everyone in the family likes dogs and goes out of their way to gush over a dog, but Jason takes it to a whole new level. And even when he's masked up dogs just gravitate to Jason.

Can and has grown a beard in a matter of a few days. He usually likes to be clean shaven but some days he likes to wear a beard just to throw everyone off.

One time him, Steph, Tim, and Duke all went to a restaurant (Red Robin lol) and the waitress got his order wrong and his burger had raw tomatoes on it, Jason took the tomatoes off and ate it while looking absolutely miserable. Tim: Jay why did you eat that you didn't have to you know you could have asked the server to fix your burger. Jason, almost in tears: "She works really hard and she tried and I'm a scary dude I don't want to make her upset.." Duke: "... Jason you literally shot at a cop for looking at you funny the other day. But you're afraid of upsetting a waitress?!? I mean ACAB but dude.. "

Jason's happiest big brother moment™ was taking Tim and Damian to the shooting range and watching them both get their first bullseye.

You can't tell me Jason Todd was into the Emo/Screamo/Warped-Tour Scene. His favorite bands/Albums in no particular order, That's the Spirit (Literally the whole album is Jason Themed and I'm gonna die on this hill) & Sempiternal by Bring me the Horizon, Digital Renegade & Everyone's Safe in the Treehouse by I See Stars, The Resistance: Rise of the Runaways by Crown the Empire,

Jason Todd's favorite foods: (Also some based in Canon*) Burgers, Chili Dogs*, Lager-style beers, Freshly baked bread*, Neopolitan ice cream, grilled corn, and Chinese Chicken noodle soup with Duck.

Tim:

This boy *slaps car roof* gives off so much asexual energy. I know New 52 exists but I just feel like Tim is the person who really, REALLY has to trust you and like you before he's sexually active with you.

HYPERFIXATES. You also can't tell me Tim isn't on the spectrum/or has ADHD.

Is the only member of the family who regularly checks up on Jason and talks to him every day via text message. The two are memelords together and love to play pranks on the other members.

While Dick may give the most frequent hugs and Jason gives the tightest, most secure hugs, Tim's hugs are always the warmest and make you just feel good.

Tim's birthday is July 19th. Meaning he's a Cancer. Let that sink in.. no, really let that information just soak. (Note I have nothing against Cancer women, cancer men however....)

All of the bat boys really struggle with talking about their feelings. Dick will manipulate you into changing the subject via twisting it to be about you, Jason will just cut you off or will ignore you, Damian will deflect everything and harass you until you stop, Tim however, Tim is very emotional and while he's very calculated about who he's emotional with, he's not afraid to break down and cry if he trusts you.

Everyone who says he's the level headed Robin haha how's it feel to be WRONG. Tim is at best the least functional college student and at worst a lemming. 'No Tim, coffee isn't a meal I'm going to make you some food or I'm going to stick you in a room with Damian for an hour.' Richard (Dick) John Grayson.

People overblow how addicted to caffeine Tim is. But it's true. Just overblown. You can talk to him before he's had his caffeine just don't expect him to be anything but curt and blunt.

Everyone says Jason would be the worst at texting but it's Tim. He's the master of leaving you on read. While Jason may do it on purpose, Tim is just really bad at texting people and while he always will read your messages he forgets to respond unless it's really funny or really pressing.

Everyone sees Tim as this bean pole super skinny boy Robin. Tim may not be stacked like Dick or a freaking tank like Jason, but Tim is NOT super skinny. He's just as muscular and likes to work out as anyone, but he just is super lean, so he looks a lot bigger and his muscles are more defined because of how thin his skin is. He has those almost disgusting spider veins on his arm. Kind of gross to look at, but he's the dream of any nurse. This means Tim is also the king of accidentally sending/posting thirst traps.

He really is the glue of the Bat Family. Everyone kidnaps Tim for 'Tim Time'.

Dick likes to spar with and in general just hang out with Tim. Tim tried to teach Dick how to skateboard and you'd think the boy who mastered the trapeze would know how to skateboard but you'd be wrong.

Babs and Tim always hang out and talk about computer stuff and Babs knows she can vent to Tim about anything and he won't say a word.

Tim and Steph were a thing for a while and even though they're just friends now, they still are very close and the two have a very deep bond, liking to shop with each other and watch movies,

Cass just loves to be around Tim because of how calming he is but also she knows she can spar with him AND Cass can also skateboard with Tim too.

Even though him and Damian are always fighting, the two still end up being together and have this unspoken bond. They work great together on a team but other than that they still hate each other.

And while everyone still is hesitant around Jason, and despite the fact that Jason literally beat Tim to within an inch of his life, AND would still trigger Tim and taunt him about it. The two have this odd closeness that rivals even him and Steph. Tim will always be the first to bat for Jason. Jason was Tim's Robin. And despite the fact Jason literally beat it into Tim's head to "never meet your heroes." Tim will always be there for Jason should he ask. The two are just close. And it's hard to describe. Bruce has caught Tim and Jason just platonically sleeping next to each other or just doing their own things shoulder to shoulder silently, just enjoying each other's company.

Tim and Duke also have a really positive relationship with one another and the two can stay up all night just talking about anything. Their minds just mesh well together. The two also love to team up and prank the other members of the Batman Family.

Tim's favorite ASMR/Stim? Watching those Tik Toks of people cleaning computers or cleaning phones. The sound of an air duster is like music to his ears and if any of the Bats need their technology cleaned it secretly makes Tim so happy to help them.

Wear his hair up or wear his hair down? It depends! While Tim likes his long hair he also has gotten plenty of compliments for his short hair and likes to style it to suit any occasion.

My one pet-peeve with Tim is that he probably is that person who lets his privilege show from time to time. While he was essentially raised to just sit down, shut up, and be a perfect trophy son to the Drake's. The Drake's were in the same tax bracket as Bruce and Tim definitely was a rich kid. He never means to come across as spoiled, but sometimes Jason will give him harsh looks if Tim just throws away food he doesn't like or says things like Chipotle is 'poor people food'

Tim Drake's favorite foods (you know by now*) Donuts*, Shallot and Artichoke Pizza with Canadian Bacon* (odd choice but it could work) Artichokes in general are his favorite vegetable, Strawberries, and Beef Pho.

Damian:

I headcanon that he has the worst teeth of all of the Bat Boys and he actually has to use lingual braces. (Hence why you can't see his braces)

Canonically is a very good artist and while him and Tim don't get along, Tim introduced Damian to digital art and gave him a photoshop pack and a nice tablet for his birthday one year and Damian loved it so much.

Damian is a capricorn and I will die on this hill. A January capricorn too.

Now you want a good chef? You've got Damian. Having converted to veganism Damian has had to get creative whenever he goes out to eat so he tends to like to eat more home cooked foods. Damian loves all matters of mushrooms, eggplant, and bell peppers.

Damian really struggles the most with his wanting to just be a normal kid. Despite the fact he will dismiss you for it, anytime he gets to spend at Gotham Academy with Jon and the rest of the kids he's naturally the happiest.

Damian LOVES to give gifts. He loves the look on people's faces when they are shocked when they actually get something from Damian.

Despite the fact that he's been traumatized from both his times with Ra's and Talia as well as with Bruce. He just wants Bruce and Talia to be together because he loves them both equally.

While he's the least flexible and least gymnastic of the Robins do let your guard down around him. He is the fastest runner and the guy is rivaled only by Jason in terms of lethality.

So someone (Jason Todd & Duke Thomas) introduced Damian to trap music and ever since anytime his phone gets stolen people will be shocked to find he's listening to some combination of Lil' Yachty, X, Kendrick Lamar, Wiz, and Kodak.

If any random person tries to hug Damian he'll immediately push them away, he'll bitch and moan about just about anyone hugging him other than Bruce & Dick.

Damian loves to go to the beach/the ocean. He just thinks it's so vast and he loves the brineness of the air. Also being half white, quarter middle-eastern and quarter Chinese (Yes everyone forgets Talia is half Chinese) Damian gets DARK. And although he's just okay as a swimmer he still likes bogeyboarding and eventually wants to learn how to surf.

I'm genuinely afraid once Puberty is done with this kid and everyone in the family is. He has Bruce Wayne AND Talia Al-Ghouls genes and those are two SEXY human beings. Damian's gonna grow a beard one day and people aren't going to know how to act.

Damian secretly plays Fortnight and not even Jon knows. He doesn't want to get shamed. He'd rather lose a match and ruin his streaks than deal with the shame of anyone in that family finding out he plays Fortnight.

Damian Wayne's favorite foods (canon*) Cereal*, Avocados, Grilled Tempeh, his mom's Tabbouleh, Mushroom Tacos, and Vegan Sushi rolls, and grape juice.

Duke Thomas

Duke is like, freakishly good with a piano, and he picked it up naturally!

Also everyone says Tim brews the best pot of coffee in the Bat Family, cue to everyone's surprise when Tim was sick one day and couldn't make a pot. Only to find the coffee was freaking amazing. Duke didn't take any credit at first until Alfred let it slip that Duke was the one who brewed the pot.

Duke being the only Meta of the family originally thought he was the double-token because he was a Meta and a black boy. Needless to say his fears were seriously unfounded the moment he got to know everyone.

Although he somewhat fears Jason and his temper initially, he and Jason have one of the closest relationships in the family. If Tim isn't around to bat for Jason, Duke will happily take his spot. The two work on each other's bikes and grew to share the same taste in music.

Duke uses his Photokenetic powers as a force for good and for shenanigans. Jason wants to play a prank on Dick and Damian while Dick is reading Damian a story? Duke will hide Jason in the shadows and will cover up his shadow. Alfred dropped something in the dark? You better believe Duke will find it in 3 seconds or less.

Duke makes it a point to visit his parents every weekend to talk to them. Although they are making some progress in their recoveries, it's still slow going. Eventually, he starts bringing members of the family to see his parents. It started with Cass, then Jason, and the rest followed suit.

Duke loves playing video games with Damian and even helps Damian beat some tougher levels when Damian is about to rage and destroy the console.

Duke is into Magic the Gathering and you cannot tell me otherwise. Duke also is the DM for the Bat Kids annual D&D games. I can and will make a D&D Batfam Headcanons if asked.

Loves Pho just as much as Cass and Tim and they all call it a date night every now and then where they can go to a hole in the wall pho place. It's really a secret between the three of them.

DUKE THOMAS IS THE BEST SWIMMER OF THE BAT BOYS AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL. HE JUST THRIVES IN THE WATER.

Finding out his birth father is a supervillain was really tough for him. He went into a shell for a little bit afterwards. Cass and Steph were there to help talk him out of his funk.

Duke Thomas's favorite foods (lol what canon DC hasn't acknowleged our boy in a while..) Chicken Pho, Thai Iced Tea, Papaya, Crab Cakes, Italian Hoagies, his mom's Lemon Poundcake, mint chocolate chip ice cream.

I hope y'all enjoyed! Up next (eventually) will be the Bat Girls!

#Dick Grayson #Batfam #Batboys #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #Duke Thomas #Bruce Wayne #Barbara Gordon #Cassandra Cain #Stephanie Brown #Headcanons #Slight OOC but hey If DC can't stay in character neither should I

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chandelier-s-notebook · 3 years

Text

Hello and welcome to a mulit-chapter story! basic info: Tubbo-centric, talk of contracted murder that never goes to fruition, kinda deus ex machina-y

If anyone wants to be part of a taglist for Assassinate But Nah, feel free to message me/send an ask/or mention it in reblogs.

Taglist: @sleepysnails

Ao3 link

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“Tubbo! My boy! You’re my favorite agent.”

Toby Maron pulls out a chair at a private poker table at Quacksino. “I really shouldn’t be honestly,” he says to the leader of the Jays, one of the Mafia groups in Houver.

“Of course you’re my favourite!” Schlatt says. He gestures to Quackity, who’s acting as dealer tonight, to deal this looks-younger-than-sixteen year old into the next round. “You’re a cop’s son? Those guys never get caught.”

Quackity slides Tubbo a packet of M&Ms before dealing in Tubbo, Schlatt, and his two main lackeys Slimecicle, and Ted.

Tubbo grimaces. “Right.” He opens the packet of M&Ms and separates them into the six colours, acting as the six chip types. “Why am I here?”

Slimecicle looks at his cards and slides Tubbo a folder. “Right here.”

“Thanks.” Tubbo looks at his own cards. “Ten.” He puts his cards down on the table and flicks a candy to the pot. He opens the file, he sighs heavily. “Another assassin job?”

“Oh yeah.” Schlatt grins like the two of them are in on a little secret. “That’s why I like you.” He throws in a chip. “Call.”

Tubbo skims the reference sheet in front of him. “Thomas Rough?”

“Call,” Slimecicle says.

Schlatt’s grin stays on his face. He takes a swig of beer. “What do you know about him?”

“Thomas Rough? He’s the son of Dan Rough.” Tubbo continues to skim the papers in front of him; blond hair, blue eyes, 6’3”. “Dr. Rough was a kid from the Teenage Mall District, bad place for a kid to grow up.” Tubbo thinks back to his memory of headlines and research projects. Dan made some big advancement in microbiology, I don’t know what though. He now has his own lab and a nice house in the suburbs. The Houver Mailer called him a ‘Diamond in the Rough’ in their series on him.”

“Good.”

“Call,” Ted says.

Quackity puts down the flop.

“Two hundred.” Tubbo throws in the equivalent amount of candy.

“Playing it safe are you?”

“Mhm. Shoulda said that with my ten.”

“Call.”

Tubbo continues to rattle off information. “Thomas Rough spends the first semester abroad at Oak Park Academy, a Swiss boarding school.” He glances up from the papers to Schlatt. “Nice. He comes home for Christmas break, then spends the second semester in a local public school: Granite Bay.”

“Something about balancing rich kid privileged education and being a normal kid.”

“Call.”

“I can understand that.” Tubbo eats a couple M&Ms.

“Hey! Don’t eat your chips,” Ted jokes. “Call.”

“Chips? These are chocolate.” Tubbo seems to remember that he’s talking to the top guys in the Jays and shuts up.

Quackity burns the top card and places the Turn.

Tubbo’s eyes flick up. “Add another hundred.” He flips the page. “Who’s this?”

Schlatt puts his elbows on the table and leans in. “Ranboo Alastair. Nothing special about him, but he’s Rough’s best friend during the half year he’s in the city.”

“Does he need to go as well?”

“No. You just need to befriend him while Rough it’s around.” Schlatt looks towards his men. “Call.”

“But will you dispose of him once I kill--”

“Assassinate.”

“Kill Thomas Rough? He’ll be able to point me out in a line up.”

“Ideally, he won’t know that you disposed of his best friend”

“Fold.” Slimecicle slides his cards to the burn pile.

Schlatt continues. “You know Eret?”

“Yeah. Informant on the drag scene.”

“Ranboo’s her little brother. Your mark is Thomas Rough, but befriending Ranboo will be a warning to Eret as well.”

“Killing two birds with one stone.”

“More like killing one, injuring another.”

“Fun.”

“Isn’t it! And you’re a police kid, nothing will happen to you.”

“But won’t Dr. Rough want answers to what happened to his son?”

“We’ll deal with that. You deal with Thomas Rough.”

“Call.”

The next card gets burned and the River gets flipped.

“Five hundred.” Tubbo puts the fold to the side and tried to read Schlatt, not that he wasn’t already doing that. “So I’m supposed to befriend Ranboo, hope that Thomas Rough keeps he around as a friend, then kill him?”

“Yes. Call.”

“Fold.”

Schlatt turns to Quackity. “Burn these. Flip a new five cards please.” He then gestures to Tubbo’s pile of M&Ms.

“One thousand.”

Schlatt looks at his cards once more. “Call.” He sits back in his seat. “We’ll be putting you in Public School, Granite Bay, as you mentioned. You’re junior year I think.”

“It would be,” Tubbo says wistfully.

“If you take it--”

Tubbo cuts him off, “If? I have a choice?”

“If you take it,” he looks Tubbo in the eye. “This’ll be your last job. I’ll be asking your father to overlook first degree homicide. Even his debts have limits.”

Tubbo thumbs at his cards.

Schlatt flips his. He gives Tubbo his first proper smile of the night. “Flush.”

“Blue-Eyes White Dragon,” Tubbo says. He takes great pleasure in how Schlatt is visibly thrown. “I’ll take the job, but my cover isn’t in this folder.”

Ted hands Tubbo another thin packet of paper.

“Tubbo Jacobs?”

“That’s your name for the next year. You’ll be living with Karl Jacob’s, chief editor of the Houver Mailer.”

“He works for you?”

“Yes. He’s getting redeployed on another mission next year, so once you get the job done, Tubbo Jacobs will disappear with him.” Schlatt grabs a few M&Ms from his winning pot. “And Toby Maron will be allowed to go back into public school.”

“But not Granite Bay.”

Schlatt nods and drops the candy in his mouth. “But not Granite Bay.”

Quackity taps Schlatt’s forearm.

“What is it Flatty Patty?”

“The kid wins,” he murmurs. “Hands off the pot.”

“What was that?”

“The kid wins.”

Schlatt scoffs. “The nerve of some people. Fine. Take your candy and chips. Get out of here kid.”

Tubbo puts all his papers back in the manila folder and slips it into his bag. “Yes Schlatt.”

“You have until the end of next summer to get it done.”

“Yes Schlatt.”

“Good boy. Remember. Do the job, and it’ll be your last one. Chicken out, and you’ve still got a few years ahead of you.”

“Yes Schlatt.” Tubbo picks up his chips but leaves the candy on the table. He pushes the chair back in behind him and goes to the counter to cash out his two thousand, three hundred, and thirty bucks.

“Bye Sapnap.” Tubbo may be an unwilling assassin due to debt, and he may hate it, but he’s still polite. Tubbo walks into his house, eyes downcast. His dad, Captain Maron, is reading in the newspaper. “I’m back.”

He tosses down the paper and comes to hug his son. “How was your meeting at the Quacksino?”

“Good. Schlatt’s sending me to public school.”

“What?” Captain Maron holds his son by the shoulders. “Public school?”

“Yeah. Catch s I have another assassin job.”

Captain Maron’s face falls. “At public school?”

“Thomas Rough, he goes to Griante Bay second semester.”

“Oh.” Jordan’s expression flickers.

Tubbo doesn't have the energy to even try to decipher it.” On the bright side,” he tries, “Schlatt says that this is the last job I need to do for him. Something about debt limits and that you can’t prosecute me.”

His dad gives him a tense smile. “Did he really say that? Or are you paraphrasing for your old man?”

“That’s what he said, he was very clear about it.” Tubbo pulls away and heads to the kitchen. “But you can’t prosecute me. I don’t know what I’m going to do after though. I feel like Schlatt has been setting me up to go crawling back to him for a sense of purpose.”

Jordan looks at his son sadly. As one of the top cops, he’s seen a lot, and he’s seen that very story play out so many times before. “I’m sorry.”

“No. No. Don’t apologize. It’s grandpa’s fault for getting tied with one of the Mafia families. It’s not your fault. He’s the one who died with debt to the Jays.”

Jordan comes to hug his son again. “Get some rest. You’ll have time to brush up before the school year starts.”

“Yeah.” Tubbo grabs himself a bowl of cereal, directly opposing what his dad just suggested. “I’m a new transfer. Tubbo Jacobs. Starting tomorrow I’m going to be living with Karl Jacobs, but only until the job is over,” he reassures his father. “And Lani will still be at home. Think of it as an exchange; like I’m going to school in europe or something.”

“I just. I don’t like the idea of you living with Karl Jacobs,” Jordan admits.

“It could be worse. At least he’s got a proper office job. It’s a good cover.” Tubbo shovels a spoonful of cereal in his mouth. “Relax dad. I’ll be fine. I’ve been fine. I will keep being fine.” His gaze softens. “Besides dad, this case file tells me to befriend some kid. So I’ll get that experience.”

Jordan smiles at his boy and ruffles his hair. “Goodnight son.”

“Night dad.”

- - -

Jordan walks up the stairs and goes to the safe in his closet. He spins the lock and opens the door. He digs up an old photo album and pulls it to his lap. He flips through old polaroids of him and his two childhood friends.

He pulls the last photo out of its clear sleeve. Then flips it to the back and reads the mailing address scrawled on it.

He mutters it under his breath and puts everything back in its place.

Jordan goes to find a pen, a piece of paper, and an envelope. He writes out the address and starts to pen two letters.

Dear Philip Wright, I’ve been in some trouble with the Jays for the past six years. Sorry for not mentioning it earlier. You know me, I’m stubborn. I’m a cop. I thought I had it under control. I don’t. Most of the debt has been worked off, but if you could advise me on how to proceed. That would be great,” Yours, Jordan Maron

Dear Daniel Rough, Just got a tip that Tom is in danger. Yours, Jordan Maron p.s. sorry for never returning your requests to catch up

#Tubbo #jschlatt #Captain Sparklez #Quackity #TommyInnit #Ranboo #Assassinate But Nah

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heyheyloki · 4 years

Text

Desperate

Summary: The reader gets shot and argues with Reid.

Spencer Reid x M!Reader

Word Count: 2508

requested by @fivecoffe

It was supposed to be like any other case. Catch the killer, everyone makes it out, go home. That’s how it was supposed to go. You only wanted to help. You only wanted to make sure he didn’t get hurt.

It was a normal day. A normal case. A normal killer that needed to be caught. While nothing about a killing is normal in itself, it was normal to you, it was normal to your team. After working for the BAU, at some point, you just become used to these people. Sure, you don’t get used to the murder scene pictures, that you’ll never get used to. The people that commit these crimes? They rarely spook you as much as they did in the beginning, when you started this profession.

This guy was no different. He was just another killer, another guy that you had the opportunity to put behind bars were he belonged. But for the first time in a while, he actually got the jump on you. He scared you. Not so much during the entire case, just more at the end. You swear. you were only trying to help, to protect what you hold dear. Isn’t that what anyone in your position would do?

Your team and you stood outside of the house the unsub broke into, his body standing only feet in front of everyone with a woman against his body, an arm wrapped around her neck to keep her in place with a gun to her head. She wept, tears staining her cheeks as she prayed for the FBI to do something. Anything.

You stood between Hotchner and Reid, all of your with your guns drawn and pointed at the man before you. He was like you all predicted in your profiles. White, mid-30s, of average height and build. A normal looking guy you wouldn’t even think twice about on the street, and yet not one that would make your eyes want a second look at him with attraction.

“Put the gun down and let the woman go!” Derek screamed as he used the car door as a shield. His eyes narrowed with fury.

“If I do that you’ll all just kill me anyway!” He cried out as he pulled back the safety on the gun, everyone tensing up at the small click that made way through their ears louder than any gunshot.

“Hey, hey!” Reid suddenly began to yell, his voice quickly making your eyes start to flicker between the two men. Only started to flash with concern as Reid started to put his gun back in his holster as he said, “You don’t have to do that, okay? We aren’t going to kill you, I promise.”

“Reid,” you called out lowly, your voice stern and demanding.

He glanced over at you, nodding as a way to tell you that it’ll be okay. In your mind though, something was wrong. It was like all this heavy disgust from over the years, all the repressed fear came swelling up. It was suffocating, almost killing you when he started to move around the car doors. No cover. His hands up in the air as he started to approach the man.

You didn’t know what to do, sure, Reid was great at his job. You admired that about him. But this was a paranoid, frantic killer who had a gun aimed at the woman’s head, and Reid had nothing. He could shoot her and him within seconds and it would be too late. That ‘what if’ ran in your mind what felt like a million times in mere seconds, your body moving on its own as it went against your minds screaming to stop. This was wrong. It’ll get him hurt. It’ll get her killed.

You didn’t listen. Instead you did what any emotion driven person did and started to approach the man slowly with Reid as your cover from his line of sight. You were only trying to help. Help. That’s it. That’s all you wanted to do.

One. Two. Three. Three steps was all it took. Three simple steps and his eyes locked with yours. A certain type of fear coursed through your veins at the look on his face. It was distorted, crude. It was vulgar and something that felt like it only existed within a horror movie. But the main thing, besides anger, was this type of betrayal that didn’t quite make sense to you. The only thing running through your mind was Reid when you saw the gun the killer held moved from the woman’s head and point right between your friend’s eyes. It was quick, but yet it was almost the most long lasting moment in your life. It felt like some higher being was laughing at you, mocking you with having this video so engrained in your mind to the point where you could hear every breath that was taken. Count every blink the killer made.

You believed that, but you also believed another being was being kind to you. Forgiving you for whatever sins you may have committed in your past and allowing you to hold onto the only thing that actually matters in your life. Him.

A simple twitch of the fingers, the mute sound of footsteps, and gunshots began to invade your sense of hearing. It was like a strike of lightning in a way. Quick, loud, and yet deadly if aimed right.

There was a moment of silence, silence as everyone started to recollect their thoughts. Understand what just happened. Understand surroundings. Understand the actions of the others around them. If one didn’t shoot, they wonder who did. If one did shoot, they wondered if the target was dead.

Personally, neither of those descriptions fit you quite right. Yes, you did look to see if the killer was taken out, but you didn’t shoot a thing. Yes, you watched as something started to register in the killer’s eyes. It wasn’t pain, that hadn’t come yet, but it was shock. His chest leapt backwards, his hands almost shaking as he looked down with wide eyes and an open mouth at the four bullet wounds in his chest. It was only mere seconds later that his knees gave out on him before his body hit the ground with an unpleasant thud. The woman quickly running over to the federal agents and cops on the other side.

A deep sigh of relief left your lips. It felt like you had accessed some sort of euphoric moment, especially when you noticed Reid on the ground besides you, like he had been pushed. Though, that look on his face confused you greatly. It was like everything he feared was just threw in his face, like he was experiencing his worst nightmare. As your eyes furrowed, everything started to flood right back. Your hearing came back full circle, the sirens blasted loud in your ear drums, calls from your teammates louder than ever, and the cries of a woman still present like before. In the moment, everything seemed more than normal. That was until something jolted up your nerves again, like a jump start to the battery of a car. It was quick and made a low hissing noise come from deep within your throat. Quickly, you gazed down towards your arm only to noticed the bullet wound that leaked out blood from your upper arm.

You knew it wasn’t going to kill you, but damn did it hurt like hell. You didn’t have much time to think. As soon as you knew it a hand was placed against your back gently. When you turned you noticed Rossi besides you with a look of worry yet care.

“Let’s get you patched up, son.” He said calmly, his voice smooth against the rest of the loud, blaring noises that entered your ears.

You only nodded in response before heading over to the ambulance, the medics quick to patch you up the best they could before heading the hospital to fully take care of the wound. Your stay wasn’t long since the bullet had an exit wound, but it sucked when they kept poking and prying at you.

When you got home you felt relieved, thankful that you had a quite heaven to return to. The first thing you did was grab a bottle of hard liquor to held with the pain as the meds started to leave your system. You thought maybe you’d have a night to yourself since Hotchner wasn’t allowing you back to work for the next few days. Just until you had no pain when moving your arm.

You started to prepare some food for yourself. The usual junk food anyone would eat at a movie marathon. Popcorn, chips, pretzels. They all were neatly laid out on the counter next to your couch. You were at some sort of level of peace, only sinking more into a relaxing state of mind before several patterned, rhythmic knocks came at your door. You paused, making sure you didn’t just imagine it before letting out a sigh, wondering who it could be as you approached the door. When you opened it though, you felt your breathing stop. Your heart skip a small beat before going back to its normal behavior as you stared at Spencer who stood outside your door.

“Hey,” he said as he pressed both his lips together. His body rocking on his heels for a moment before asking, “may I come in?”

You leaned your body against your door, your arms completely exposed thanks to the black tank-top your wore with a simple pair of black sweatpants. Your bandaged arm limp at your side.

“Why? Shouldn’t you be home?” You asked in a stern tone, your mind racing to why you were so aggressive. You swear you didn’t mean to be. You never wanted to be like this towards him, ever.

“I should.” Spence agreed. “But, we need to talk.”

You stared at him for a moment before opening the door wider and slipping to the side. You watched Spencer carefully as he moved from the outside into your home before shutting the door behind him. When done, you rested your back against the front door, your observing eyes keeping on Spence.

“How’s your arm?” He asked softly, and yet as gentle as it was something was boiling under it that made your stomach begin to twist.

“It’s fine, hurts a bit, but I did get shot.” You said nonchalantly. You truly didn’t think your words would make him explode, but you just guessed he planned to do it anyway as soon as he knocked on your door.

In a sudden and swift moment, he turned, his lean body nearly cutting the air in two as a small hiss was heard. When he looked you in the eyes, you cautiously began to straighten your back against the door frame. You held your head up, your nose rising hiring then before. Something distorted in those chestnut orbs of his, something that didn’t quite sit with you right. You knew you were in for it, you just thought it would be Hotch instead of him.

“Do you know how stupid that was?” He asked as he leaded in his head to the side, his brows beginning to furrow in pure rage. “I had it under control. I had it. Why couldn’t you just trust me on that?”

“Trust you?” You questioned in a sour tone. You leaned your body off the door, your chest puffing up for a moment as you took a step forward. “Every time you get the chance you end up in the middle of cross-fire. How was I supposed to know for sure that you would be okay? Huh? For I know if I didn’t do what I did you could have been hurt, at worst, killed right there in the street like a dog!”

Spence’s teeth began to grind against one another. “And what? Get yourself killed in the process? You were lucky, that’s it. Any further and you could be dead because of me!”

“So what? You want me to tell you that I’m sorry?” You questioned taking another step forward. Close enough now to pull him into a hug. “Cause I’m not. I’m not sorry.”

“You’re so infuriating!” Spence yelled.

“You just figured that out?” You asked, cocking a brow up as you watched Spencer’s brows narrow on you. When he didn’t respond to your smug comment, you sighed. Lowering your head as you started to move past him. “If you wanna stay you can, but I’m not talking about this anymore. It’s over and done with, so leave it alone.”

Just when you started to pass Reid, thinking this was over and done with, a tight grip was at your wrist. It stopped you dead in your tracks, turning your head to him with a deadly look that would normally cut him down. Today though, it didn’t work and instead the look that mirrored your own made you feel weak at the knees. He was dead serious.

“Do you even trust me?” He asked lowly. His tone laced with something that made your trigger happy fingers twitch, especially when you felt his hand grip even tighter, almost like he was using your wrist as a stress ball.

“I do.” You said. It was plain, without a tease nor a substance of sarcasm. You didn’t have to even think twice about the question.

“Than why did you do that?” Reid asked gently, his voice glimmering with great confusion as he tried to read you. Profile you.

Without a second though you said, “Because I’m selfish when it comes to you.”

“What?” He asked, eyes moving all over the place. “I don’t understand.”

You gave a dry chuckle. “For a genius, you’re pretty stupid at times.”

Spencer didn’t speak. His mouth hung open a bit, but no words came out. Instead he gave you this look that made you justify every action you made earlier even more. You had no guilt anymore. You had no second thoughts. In the end, nothing else mattered but making sure he was alive and well, but perhaps just the distorted view of him kicking into your brain. The irregular and slamming pattern of your heart aiding in the distortion.

And maybe in that moment he saw through you for once, maybe you let the persona you always put on slip. Maybe he managed to slip through the small crack in your mask and saw the infatuation you held for genius in front of you. Either way, before you even had time to register his movements you felt his breath graze over your cooler lips. The next thing you knew he was kissing you. It unlocked something in your that you repressed for a while now, and while it slipped to the surface at times, now you couldn’t help but let it free from its cage. You had no right to like him, you thought, but when he kissed you, you knew it sighed some kind of contract between the two of you that would make you the happiest man alive. Especially with him alive and well at your side.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x male reader #x male reader #male reader

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remnantoforario · 4 years

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Unmerry Men AKA The Problem With Robyn Hill

I’ve been sitting on this rant for a while. I’m sure there are people who have talked this topic to death since Volume 7 ended, and did a much better job than I am about to, but I still feel the need to throw my hat in the ring (or shoot my arrow at the target given the subject matter) and say definitively and without question: that Robyn Hill is a terrible character.

Get some snacks. This is going to be a long one.

Let me preface this rant by saying I don’t hate Robyn HIll...in CONCEPT. That last word is very important.

The idea behind her character is a sound one: Atlas is characterized as a country with a VERY clear disparity between the rich (Atlas)

and the poor (Mantle)

So it makes perfect sense that there would be a Robin Hood (see what I did there) type character that would bridge this gap between the two and seek to make things equal, or at least a little less lopsided. As an idea this is great, but the problem (as with most everything in RWBY) is in the execution.

Outside of Forrest extolling her praises in the back of a cop car in Chapter 2, the first time we see Robyn is when she stops Clover, Ruby, Qrow, and Penny from reaching the Amity tower site.

During this introduction, she tries to coerce Clover into disclosing classified government information via her Semblance, and Penny has to expose her ambush tactics. Not the best first impression.

Now in a vacuum, this scene isn’t really that bad. Thanks to (clunky) exposition, we are already aware that there is friction between the military and the Happy Huntresses. As such it makes sense that we the audience first meet Robyn as an antagonistic force against RWBY and their allies.

The thing with this though is that all four of the writers of this volume forgot to lift the perception of Robyn being an antagonist until around the final third of the volume. Objectively, there is no reason anyone outside of her own group to want to trust or follow her.

The M,K,K, & E are trying to position Ironwood and Robyn in the roles of the Sherriff of Nottingham and Robin Hood respectively. The main problem with this is that they fail to establish Ironwood as a tyrannical threat on par with the Sherriff.

Does he make questionable decisions? Certainly. Are his choices morally wrong? In some cases, yes. But they are more often than not written in a way where the choices he makes are OBJECTIVELY best for everyone (even if they try to frame it otherwise).

Closing the borders, hiding the Amity plan, diverting resources to FINISH said plan, and his other tactics (while at times misguided) were done in order to protect as many people as he could from Salem and her forces. They were all calculated risks that clearly took a mental and emotional toll on him. He’s a severely broken man trying to keep whatever he has left from falling apart, but everyone is working against him (including his own allies but that’s another story).

This brings me back to Robyn. She is hailed as the “Hometown Hero of Mantle”, but all we ever do is see her take shots at Ironwood and Jacques and talk about how much the former ISN’T helping Mantle. My question to her, her hardcore cans, and CRWBY is “What has Robyn done to help Mantle?”. RWBYJNR and various talking heads mention how Robyn is helping the people of Mantle, but because the volume (seemed) so rushed to get to Salem’s arrival, we never see her doing anything that’s not directly tied to the plot.

She’s not working on Mantle’s wall, she’s not in the streets talking to people, handing out medical supplies, giving away food, or anything that actively helps Mantle. We don’t even see her fight Grimm in the streets until the FINAL episodes of the volume. All she and her group do is actively antagonize the military and steal (which we never see them give to the poor). For someone hailed as the town’s hero, she doesn’t seem to really be doing anything to earn that title.

After the election night massacre, she openly declares war on Ironwood essentially and begins stealing resources needed for the Amity project, until she is ultimately stopped by Blake and Yang.

Now in theory I have no problem with Yang and Blake telling her about the Amity plan; my main hang up about it is that Robyn has done nothing to earn this trust.

Until this point Robyn has been getting in their way as they try to reestablish global communications, but now they suddenly feel comfortable telling this sensitive information to a complete stranger and risking a leak even when they KNOW Tyrian is in the city? Instead of telling her that, why not tell her about Tyrian instead? I’m sure she would want justice for the people he killed.

Then she is later invited to the Council meeting (despite not being a member) and made aware of classified information that she shouldn’t know of, as well as make a complete ass of herself and show why she probably shouldn’t have won in the first place.

This leads to her finally believing Ironwood, but eventually that gets tossed out the window at the end of the volume where her actions almost directly lead to Clover’s death.

As she, Qrow, and Clover are transporting Tyrian back to Atlas, Ironwood’s order to arrest RWBYJNRQO is issued. Now there are three things that are very important to keep in mind here after this order is issued:

1. Clover is clearly conflicted about following this order.

2. Qrow is calmly trying to talk things out.

3. Robyn is NOT under arrest.

Let me repeat that. ROBYN IS NOT UNDER ARREST.

So as Qrow is level headedly suggesting they all talk it out, Robyn (who again is NOT under arrest) starts a fight that results in Tyrian escaping his restraints, the plane going down (after Tyrian kills the pilot and co-pilot), Robyn herself being unconscious, and Clover being ultimately being murdered.

Now tell me after all the information is presented, why we are supposed to care for this character? What have the writers done to position her as someone we should invest in?

A lot of her accomplishments are told to us rather than shown, and whenever we do see her onscreen she’s mostly a nuisance that makes pretty much any situation she’s in worse. Yes, I know this is just one volume and she will obviously be a central character in V8 and possibly 9, but the damage has been done. Any attempt to salvage her will just be cleaning up the fall out from V7.

Now since I’m not one of those people that likes to complain for the sake of it, I’ll voice my opinion on how Robyn could have been written better.

The first thing we do is distance her from the Happy Huntresses. She will still be the leader, but that information won’t be revealed until AFTER the election. It’s not really a good look for a vigilante to try and run for a public office if they are still breaking the law. That’s like Bruce Wayne running for mayor of Gotham AS Batman (though the people would likely still vote for him).

So as far as the public (including Ironwood and RWBYJNRQO) are concerned, Robyn is a normal Mantle city official and Joanna Greenleaf is the leader of the Huntresses. For those of you who don’t remember who she is (and I don’t blame you), this is Joanna Greenleaf:

The second thing I’m going to do is give her a more established connection to Ironwood. My idea? Former military. Robyn was once a part of the Atlas military’s intelligence and recon division because of her lie detecting semblance. When she discovers corruption within the system (lets say something having to do with Faunus, the mines, Mantle, or the SDC) she exposes it but quickly becomes disillusioned with military life and is discharged. She then begins living in Mantle and becomes their representative. We can say this happened maybe five to ten years before the series itself starts.

She served under Ironwood and has a deep respect for him, but does not agree with his decisions as defacto head of the Council. This is what leads to the friction between them.

Next, we change up how she and the Huntresses are introduced in V7. When RWBYJNRQO arrive in Mantle the election race has only barely begun (we’re pushing it back). We see posters for Robyn and maybe hear snippets of an interview she is giving to a news station on one of the TVs.

When the Grimm attack, instead of RWBYJNRQO running out to help immediately, they are cut off by the Happy Huntresses who quickly get rid of the monsters. Ruby and the others wonder who they are before the Huntresses scatter when Penny and the Ace-Ops arrive. The heroes are still arrested for stealing an airship and violating Atlas airspace (as they should have), but now there is some intrigue about who that group of women were.

Forrest still gives his exposition, but leaves out Robyn because no one knows she’s their leader.

When the gang arrive at the school they meet with Ironwood and Winter, but hear Ironwood complaining about “that woman” after having just finished a call on his scroll.

Fast forward to the mine mission. Instead of Jacques showing up, this is where we gets their first full appearance from Robyn. She is brought via airship to the mine (along with an exasperated Winter and Penny) and begins to badger Ironwood about ducking their meeting, stating that Mantle still hasn’t received the supplies he promised days ago. You could also have her briefly greet the kids and Qrow before going back to argue with Ironwood.

Things proceed as normal, but inbetween some of the bigger story events we see news reports of Robyn helping people around Mantle. Feeding the poor, cheering up the miners, handing out supplies, giving speeches, and other things to show that she really is the hero of the people. Not everything has to be directly tied to the plot, you can use extra devices like tv news and the like to expand on characters. They tried this in V7 but they didn’t go far enough with in my opinion. This would inform us more on Robyn’s character without her being the direct focus as well as give the audience an actual reason to get behind the things she says.

The main aspect of Robyn’s character that I would focus on would be her relationship with Ironwood. Nothing romantic, just how their ideologies align (or don’t) and how they view each other. They respect one another. Robyn knows Ironwood is a good man, but she doesn’t fully understand why he’s doing the things that he is doing. She doesn’t know why he’s being so secretive. She wants to give him a chance, but he keeps denying her.

On Ironwood’s part he knows that morally Robyn is in the right and genuinely wants to help everyone in both cities, but his paranoia will not allow him to simply tell her what is really going on. Salem’s reach is far and if she was able to turn Lionheart (one of Ozpin’s closest confidants) then she can get to anyone and that is frightening.

This is why Robyn utilizes the Happy Huntresses. They are able to move outside the law and do the things she can’t (similar to Jim Gordon and Batman). She doesn’t want to condemn Ironwood because of all the good he’s done, but people are suffering and something needs to change.

Neither are wrong, but they can’t find common ground.

I’d position Robyn more as a fringe type of character. She doesn’t directly intervene in the plot, but you know she’s always there bidding her time until she can be more prominent.

I have more ideas for her, but this post is long enough as it is so let’s just end it here.

TLDR; Robyn Hill is a good character concept with horrible execution. Hopefully she will be somewhat better utilized in future volumes, or kill her off at the start of V8. At this point I’m good with either.

#RWBY #Robyn Hill #Happy Huntresses #Long Post #Tyrian Callows #Jacques Schnee #James Ironwood #Joanna Greenleaf #may marigold #fiona thyme #writing critique #Qrow Branwen #Clover Ebi #this is probably one of the longest posts I've ever made #RWDE

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hisunshiine · 3 years

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𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 - Part 4

Min Yoongi.

𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 ထ written by @sunkissedwriter / m. a. tw.

↳ au based off of The King: Eternal Monarch | Cross posted to her AO3

Republic of Korea

You kept replaying the voicemail on the flip phone, unable to understand what the voice was saying.

The northern K stadium created a big buzz-

A hand shutting your laptop caused you to jump, revealing Namjoon’s hand with a coffee. You pulled your headphones out of your ears, “Can you announce yourself any louder?”

Namjoon laughed, “I thought that was pretty loud. Have you found anything yet?”

“Listen to this.” Reopening the laptop he shut and pressing play on the recording. You looked at him expectantly.

Namjoon shrugged, slinging one leg onto your desk, “It sounds like the news.”

“But why? Why would he have saved a voicemail of the news? And he never once made an outgoing call on this phone. They were all incoming.” You leaned back in your chair, cracking open the coffee he brought you.

You weren’t able to take a sip before the phone on your desk rang, “Yes this is Lieutenant (YLN)”

A lifting voice came through the line, “Lieutenant, I was hoping you could meet with me today.”

“How did you get this number?” You hissed, waving away Namjoon’s questioning eyebrow.

“Jungkookie gave it to me. I’ve never met someone so eager to help. It’s such a breath of fresh air compared to Jeongguk.”

“Get to the point Jung Hope,” you snapped, “I’m at work and this phone is for emergencies only.”

There was a soft sigh, “I believe there has been a...misunderstanding between us. I want to apologize and explain myself to you.”

You took a deep breath, rubbing at the bridge of your nose, “Okay. I will meet you at the hotel when I’m done.”

“No, meet me at the bamboo forest, the trailhead right at the entrance.” He answered, “I have something I wish to show you there.”

“Fine, I will meet you at the bamboo forest. Do not call me unless it is important.” You slammed the phone down onto the receiver, meeting Namjoon’s blank expression. “Don’t ask. Did you interview the suspect?”

Namjoon unwrapped a chocolate bar, snapping a piece off for you before stuffing the rest in his mouth, “Mmhmm, he claims the victim had struck him first when he was leaving the bar but that he didn’t strike the victim back, that he just took off running.”

“If that’s the case then how did the body end up in the trunk of his car?” You stretched in your seat, “The victim owed him millions of won, why not just fess up to the crime, get a lesser sentence.”

“You know, Lieutenant, for as good as you are to turn a gambling bust into a homicide. I don’t think you have the criminal right.” Namjoon came around your desk, pulling you to the side as he typed away, “This, it’s the CCTV from the bar.”

The grainy footage showed the suspect stumbling out the door, holding on to the wall. The suspect turned as if he was called, taking one step and gesturing, appearing to yell at someone. Another figure stepped from behind the suspect, striking him with a crowbar, dropping the suspect immediately down to the ground. You focused on the screen, trying to make out the dark figure. A flash of headlights revealed the victim, tossing the crowbar to the side as he quickly ran off.

“This still doesn’t prove the suspect as innocent, do we know where the suspect was after this?” You crossed your arms, the timeline of the crime becoming blurrier with each new lead.

“Whether or not this is proof, this still helps us with finding the murder weapon.” Namjoon, pointed at the screen, “Ready to go dumpster diving?”

You let your head thunk against your desk, “I thought when I became lieutenant I wouldn’t have to do anything like this.” Your phone rang again, “Lieutenant (YLN) speaking.”

“Ah yes Lieutenant, this is the Korean Racing Association, did you send us that inquiry about the white horse?”

You sat up, “Yes! Yes I did, is it stolen?”

“No not stolen, in fact this horse is a rare breed from Spain they are incredibly hard to find and even harder to bring to Korea. We were wondering if we would be able to come see the horse in person.” The man on the other line continued to ramble on, spouting facts about the horse that was currently staying on your father’s lawn.

“You know...I am a bit busy right now, let me call you back later to schedule a better time to see the horse.” You set the phone down gently, running your hands through your hair, “Let’s go dumpster diving. I need a distraction.”

******

Hoseok stood with his hands clasped behind his back, searching for you among the crowd. He couldn’t stop the smile on his lips when he saw you, your hair flowing free around you, scowl in place. “You made it, thank you for meeting me.”

“You said you were going to explain yourself. Go ahead.” You shoved your hands into your pockets.

Hoseok held his arm out, “Walk with me.”

You hesitated slightly but slipped your arm into his, falling into step with him, “Why did you want me to meet you here. Why not at the hotel.”

“I’ve been at the library all day, reading on the history of this world compared to my world,” Hoseok glanced down at you, “I wanted to just take a walk with you, get some fresh air.” He continued the slow pace, “The two worlds diverged after the death of Prince Sohyeon, in this world he passed away before he became King. In my world he went on to live as King Yeongjong, there was never a separation, the invasion was stopped early. However it appears that in this world, this country thrived after the separation, advancing like no other country has seen before. It’s amazing.”

You started laughing, “You write fan fiction right? And you’re just testing out your writing on me. That must be it. I thought you were going to explain yourself, instead it’s more nonsense.” You tried to pull your arm away, instead being pulled to a stop.

“If you don’t believe me, then why are you helping me? Is it some sense of duty, Lieutenant?” Hoseok questioned, “You can’t deny there is some sort of connection between us. You seem to be the reason as to why I was brought from my world to yours.” Hoseok took a breath, “You are also the reason why I can’t go back to my world. At least not yet.”

You pulled your arm free, “What are you talking about?”

Hoseok gestured, “Here. There was a gate here, a large stone obelisk that acted as a door between worlds. I didn’t hear the…” Hoseok’s eyes widened in realization, “The manpasijeok . That has to be it...that has to be the key between worlds. That’s why no one can hear it...because it-”

“It sings for the person who’s fate it will change,” You huffed.

“You know the story of the manpasijeok ?” Hoseok questioned, “How?”

You shrugged, “It was something my mom would always tell me...a magic flute made for Kings. It would only play for those when Fate calls, or in times of great need.”

Hoseok started to laugh, shaking his head, “I searched for hours about the manpasijeok in your world's history. I couldn’t find anything of it.” He met your eyes, “You’re a brilliant young woman, you became a cop because of your deduction skills and sharp mind. The evidence is in front of you, yet you still choose to not believe me.”

“What evidence?”

Hoseok held up his hand, curling one finger down, “Myself, you can’t find my fingerprints and I know for a fact my DNA will not show up in your database.” He curled a second finger, “My horse. Kookie told me how you sent Mang’s pictures to the Racing Association and they contacted you about how rare he is.” He curled a third finger, “Your Detective Kim Namjoon recognized my sigil.” He curled a fourth finger, “You.”

You swallowed past the knot in your throat, “There’s always an explanation to everything. You can’t expect me to believe that just based on your ‘evidence’.” You ran a hand through your hair, “Jung Hope. Don’t you have a family? Don’t you think they’re worried about you?”

Hoseok gave a sad smile, “No. I don’t. My family passed a long time ago.” He took your hand, running his thumb along your palm, “The first duty of the new King is to carry out the funeral of the old King.”

He could see your guard break at the sadness in his tone, “You’re an orphan…”

“I am. I have been since I was eight. Since then Jeongguk has been my only family. I have extended relatives but they only speak to me about the succession of the throne.” Hoseok’s eyes flicked up from where his hand connected with yours, “I have decided, Lieutenant, you shall be my Queen.”

You blinked, “Your Queen? You want me to be your Queen?! You don’t even know who I am and yet you want me to be the Queen of a country in a different world that I don’t believe exists!”

“You’re as slow witted as a bear.” Hoseok said slowly, watching as you walked away from him and began to scream out into the bamboo forest.

“A bear?! You’re...and would your people allow you to marry a bear?!” You screamed, grabbing at your head, feeling pressure to begin to build behind your eyes.

“No actually they wouldn’t and the cabinet would be highly opposed to me bringing a bear into the palace.” Hoseok snapped back, “But it’s not a bear I want to bring into the palace...it’s you.”

“Jung Hope-” You started, leveling him with a glare as he cut off your answer.

“My name...is Jung Hoseok.” Hoseok answered, giving you a smile, “You were close. If you are to be my Queen...you should know my name.”

Your brow quirked, “I thought no one could speak the King’s name.”

“You can’t say it in public, at least in my world.” Hoseok took a step towards you, “Here all I can ask is that you don’t share it with this world.”

You shivered, “Fine. Continue to live in your delusion. Leave Kookie alone, leave everyone alone. I get your DNA results in a few days, just...just stay out of trouble.” You turned to leave, feeling another coat draped on your shoulders.

Hoseok gently pulled your hair out from beneath his coat, “You won’t have to worry about me, Lieutenant. I will be a model citizen.”

Hoseok patted your shoulder and left you alone, knowing the information load would be too much for you to handle with him around. He meandered his way back to the hotel, thoughts full of hope that you would find it in your heart to accept the truth. He smiled slightly to himself, “My stubborn bear.” How he would end up with the love of his life refusing to believe him, Fate only knew.

A drop hit his nose, signaling the incoming rain. Hoseok picked up his pace, moving through the crowd of umbrellas, trying to make his way back to the hotel before the rain got worse. He bumped shoulders with someone, pausing to apologize as he knocked the man’s umbrella to the ground. The stranger took the umbrella and smiled briefly, thanking him.

Hoseok stood shocked as the stranger walked away, blending into the crowd. The rain picked up but Hoseok couldn’t care less as his hair stuck to his forehead, the man that he had bumped into, the stranger who’s umbrella he knocked down; had a face he hadn’t seen in years .

That man held the face of his uncle.

Min Yoongi.

The warm water couldn’t chase the chill in Hoseok’s soul as he rested his forehead against the tile of the shower wall.

The memories of his childhood flooded his mind, the smell blood, the sound of the gunfire, the feeling of the manpasijeok pressed against his throat. But above all else, he remembered the fury in his uncle’s face and the joy in his uncle’s eyes at having Hoseok nearly dead in his hands.

Hoseok slammed his palm against the wall, feeling the pressure build in his chest. The man he saw out on the road hadn’t aged a day . He still held the same dark, calculating eyes set against pale skin, how.

How could he be here? How could he have…

The second half of the manpasijeok .

It was never found.

He slammed his fist against the tile, could it be that his uncle had been called by the manpasijeok as well?

But the body…

He punched the wall harder, if Jeongguk had a doppelgänger, who’s to say his uncle didn’t have one as well.

One that he could use to swap and frame as his own dead body .

He punched the wall a third time, a sharp pain traveling up his hand as the title shattered under his force. He needed to return to his world, immediately. He watched as his blood dripped down the broken tile, your face popping up into his thoughts. His eyes fluttered closed, why you had to be so stubborn he didn’t know, but he hoped you would be safe in the time that he was gone.

Grabbing his things, he quickly packed a small bag, “Kookie, I’m leaving for a while, can you grab the things from the hotel room and hold onto them for me?”

Kookie’s tired voice flitted through the line, “Hyung, you’re leaving?”

“Yes. I’ve left the palace empty for too long. I must return. But I will be back as soon as I can...Jungkookie, can I trust you to be the Unbreakable Sword of this world?” Hoseok asked the younger, having grown fond of the Jeongguk of this world.

Jungkook yawned over the phone, “Of course, hyung. I’ll protect your stuff with honor.”

He smiled, “Thank you Kookie...take care. I will see you soon.” As he set the receiver down, he heard the familiar tune once more. The manpasijeok was singing its song once again.

With your words ringing in his mind, he found himself in front of your window, wishing desperately he could say goodbye.

But the manpasijeok had other plans and sang its song louder, stirring Mang to rear back and whinny into the night. Hoseok saddled his stead and swung a leg over, barely able to hold onto the reins before Mang took off, leading him straight to the gates. Hoseok burst out into the bamboo forest on the palace grounds, startling a younger guard.

He ignored the shouts, driving Mang towards the barn. He hopped off, landing lightly on the balls of his feet as Mang ran into the barn, huffing at the stable attendant. Hoseok continued on his path into the palace, throwing open the doors of his study.

Fury quickly replaced his shock at the sight of Jimin arguing with Jin over his whereabouts. He squared his shoulders and projected his voice, “Prime Minister Park.”

Jimin’s back stiffened, “Ah, Your Majesty, I didn’t think-”

Hoseok strode to his desk, “No you didn’t think. I believe I said all reports were to be submitted electronically, and that there would be no visitors to the palace at all?”

Jimin cleared his throat, “I am not a visitor.”

“You certainly are not a resident of the Palace, that makes you a visitor,” Hoseok turned his attention to Jeongguk, noticing the relief that eased the crinkle of his frown, “Captain Jeon, is Prime Minister Park considered a visitor to the Palace?”

Jeongguk bowed his head, “Your Majesty, based on your orders, Prime Minister Park is a trespasser on the Palace grounds.”

Jin looked smug as he stepped forward, “I will be happy to escort the Prime Minister to the door, Your Majesty.”

Jimin held up a hand, “Your Majesty, I have urgent news from the Cabinet. Something you must hear from me.”

Hoseok sat down at his desk, “Jin leave us. You can escort the Prime Minister after he has given me his report.”

Jin bowed his head with a clenched jaw, shutting the door to the study as he left. The tension in the room growing exponentially as Jimin turned back to Hoseok.

“Your Majesty, it’s good to see you. I honestly just came here to see if the rumors about you missing were true.” Jimin spoke with arrogance, perfect smile in place.

Hoseok rose to his full height towering over the smaller man, “You dare speak that way to your King?”

Jimin stepped forward causing Jeongguk to place an arm on Jimin’s chest, keeping him from approaching the King further. Jimin merely ignored the guard, “I do dare. You see, Your Majesty, while you were away ‘solving a problem’, I was here solving multiple problems that your people had. The Cabinet may not have loved it, but the people did. In fact...they all are starting to cheer for me to have a second term.” He tilted his head, “You were gone for a week, Your Majesty, and I kept this Kingdom running. You’re now indebted to me, you should be thanking me.”

Hoseok’s fury rose, his voice deepening as he spoke, “You forget your place, Prime Minister. Disrespect your King again, and we shall see how loudly your name will be called when I behead you for all to see. Leave.”

Jimin’s eyes sparkled, grin showing off brilliant teeth, “See you next week, Your Majesty.”

Hoseok let himself fall heavily onto the chair, exhaustion settling into his bones, “Jeonggukah, please close off the palace to any and all visitors.”

Jeongguk muttered the order, then questioned the King, “Your Majesty, where have you been.”

Hoseok chuckled to himself, “A parallel world.”

Jeongguk blinked, “You can’t expect me to believe that.”

Hoseok started to laugh even harder, “That's exactly what she told me.” He settled his gaze on his guard, “I followed the White Rabbit, Jeonggukah and I found a clock.” He placed the riding crop on the desk, “The manpasijeok , it led me to her . She’s...incredibly stubborn, fixed in her ways, but loyal beyond all belief. She didn’t even know who I was, or even liked me at all and yet she was doing everything in her power to attempt to reunite me with family.”

“Your Majesty...your family…” Jeongguk couldn’t finish his sentence.

Hoseok continued to stare down at the crop, “I thought my family was all dead...however in this parallel universe...there are dopplegangers of almost everyone I knew...they all looked the same as they do now except,” his hands started to shake, “I saw him Jeongguk. I saw the traitor Min Yoongi , and he looked exactly the way he did the day he killed my father.”

Jeongguk furrowed his brow, “How can that be? He was killed by the Royal Guard.” His guard shook his head, “You’re just tired, Your Majesty. You need rest, all this nonsense of ‘parallel worlds’ and the traitor being alive. You’ve overworked youself.”

A crack of thunder sent a pain down the King’s back, sharp cry leaving his lips as he doubled over his desk, clawing at his shoulder. Jeongguk rushed forward, pulling at the King’s clothes until he revealed a mark, as if he had been struck by lightning.

Hoseok’s shoulder burned once more at the second crack of thunder, the mark illuminating once more on his skin before dulling down and vanishing completely. He tried to catch his breath, gripping the wood of his desk, “I need you to bring me the autopsy report of Min Yoongi. Now. ”

“Your Majesty, I should be bringing you the Court Physician! Your shoulder it…” Jeongguk ran his fingers lightly along the King’s exposed skin, “The mark is gone...it had looked as if you were struck by lightining.”

Hoseok leaned against his chair, shutting his eyes, “It must be the power of the manpasijeok . It must be because I crossed the gate...do as I said Kookie.”

“Kookie?”

Hoseok waved his hand, “Sorry. Your doppelganger, his name is Kookie. Jungkookie. He is the complete opposite of you...more bright and full of life.”

“I can be bright and full of life,” Jeongguk dead panned, but nonetheless bowed and went to fetch what the King had requested.

A large knot settled in the King’s chest as he waited for Jeongguk to return with the report. His thoughts drifted over to you, if you were safe, and how long it would be before he could see you again.

↣ please do not repost work. images, netflix posters, and synopsis screens were made by @hisunshiine please do not repost. translations/modifications are not allowed.

↣ all stories are posted with the authors permission, and each story provides a link to the author and to their original content. due to some of them not having tumblr, they have asked me, the creator of the event, to post their stories.

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Stephen King’s Favorite TV Shows According to His Twitter Raves

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“NOW WE’RE SUCKING DIESEL! If you don’t get it, you missed a great series.” Stephen King’s recent discovery of British police thriller Line of Duty – as relayed via a series of highly enthusiastic Tweets – was a delight to witness. King’s zeal is enough to make UK fans wish that he hadn’t binge-watched the BBC series from his home inside the sewers of Derry, Maine, but instead watched it at broadcast pace in the UK, where he would no doubt have made a sizeable contribution to the show’s Twitter larks. (King proved himself happy to join in with online TV show speculation when he correctly predicted the killer in HBO/Sky’s Mare of Easttown. You can bet he’d have had a take on the mystery identity of Line of Duty baddie ‘H’.)

Line of Duty isn’t alone in attracting King’s online praise; when the horror author watches a TV show he loves from inside the creepy Castle Rock devil shop he calls home, he lets his 6.5 million followers know about it. Below is a list of endorsements King has made on Twitter in recent years, from the usual sci-fi and horror suspects to a few less expected titles.

US MODERN CLASSICS

The Americans, Game of Thrones, Homeland, Sons of Anarchy and The Shield

In Stephen King’s house (inside Derry’s landmark water tower, The Standpipe) as of February 2018, only three shows were considered ‘appointment television’: FX Cold War spy drama The Americans, HBO fantasy epic Game of Thrones and Showtime spy thriller Homeland. King describes all three as “a cut above”. Going one further, three days after the Game of Thrones series finale aired, King called out the New York Times’ list of 20 best TV dramas for neglecting to include the HBO dragon epic. He’s glad the Times included FX cop drama The Shield, a show that “fundamentally changed TV”, but feels it should also have tipped a hat to FX motorcycle gang drama Sons of Anarchy. Get it right, New York Times.

INTERNATIONAL DRAMA

Dark, Fauda, Hotel Beau Sejour, Les Revenants, Marianne, Money Heist, To The Lake, ZeroZeroZero

Nothing scares Stephen King, not even subtitles. When he’s relaxing in his converted alien spaceship half buried in the woods of Haven, Maine, he enjoys nothing more than streaming a foreign-language box-set. He particularly rates German sci-fi Dark, which he called terrific, complex and very German, and recommends these explanatory recaps for anybody confused by its multiple timelines. Virus thriller To The Lake was called “a pretty darn good Russian series on Netflix,” while Israeli spy thriller Fauda was described as “all killer and no filler”. King called Belgian crime drama Hotel Beau Sejour “eccentric, brilliant and strangely touching. Supernatural fare for those who don’t ordinarily like it.” Speaking of the supernatural, King’s a fan of celebrated French horror Marianne, which he says could scare even “a sicko” like him. Also in French, he loved atmospheric supernatural zombie drama Les Revenants/The Returned, calling it sexy and scary. Netflix’s Spanish-language thriller Money Heist is “a firecracker” while he found Italian-Anglo crime drama ZeroZeroZero “bone-shaking, chilling, terrifying, epic,” and King found it hard to believe it could be bettered. High praise.

Why You Should Watch Black Summer on Netflix

By Ron Hogan

The Best French TV Shows on Netflix

By Louisa Mellor

BRITISH DRAMA

Black Mirror, Life on Mars, Line of Duty, The Stranger

From underneath his massive, transparent dome in Chester’s Mill, Stephen King will often enjoy a bit of British telly. Back in 2013, when it was still a Channel 4 show only just available worldwide on Netflix, King Tweeted that he loved future-tech anthology series Black Mirror, calling it “terrifying, funny, intelligent,” and compared it to an R-rated The Twilight Zone. The show creator Charlie Brooker, told Den of Geek at the time that despite being a huge Stephen King fan, his reaction was characteristically muted:

“I think I probably smiled? That’s about as effusive as I get about anything, because whenever anything nice happens in the world I always expect something appalling to happen immediately afterwards.”

BBC crime-drama-with-a-time-travel-fantasy-twist Life on Mars is another British favourite that King described in September 2020 as one of his favourite shows of all time, “the kind you go to when you’re feeling sad.” That same year, he called Harlan Coben’s mystery thriller The Stranger, starring Richard Armitage, as an excellent, addictive mystery. King’s British TV crush of the moment of course, is BBC crime drama Line of Duty, which he praises for having a central Mulder/Scully-type vibe between main characters Steve Arnott and Kate Fleming.

US THRILLERS

Big Sky, Bosch, Designated Survivor, Escape at Dannemora, Fargo, Mindhunter, Perry Mason, The Good Fight, The Man in the High Castle, The Morning Show

After he’s finished all the two-finger KitKats from the minibar at Room 217 of The Overlook Hotel, where he lives, Stephen King puts a thriller on the TV. Crime thriller, political thriller, legal thriller, alt-history Philip K. Dick thriller… he has time for them all. King is a particular fan of ABC’s murder show Big Sky, which stars Ryan Philippe and Vikings’ Kathryn Winnick. In February this year, he called it the best drama on network TV and said the final three episodes were stepping into Emmy territory. He calls Bosch an excellent detective series, one of the best on TV, with an engrossing story and superb cast. Kiefer Sutherland-starring series Designated Survivor he called excellent, complex and involving after its move to Netflix. Prison drama Escape at Dannemora is TV at its best according to King, who in 2015 described the penultimate episode of Fargo season two as the best thing on television in the last three years. In 2017, he strongly recommended David Fincher serial killer drama Mindhunter, and last year called the Matthew Rhys Perry Mason reboot a “damn good show.” In 2019, King called The Good Wife spin-off The Good Fight “the best show on TV”, and found nothing not to like about Apple TV+’s The Morning Show starring Jennifer Aniston. That was the year he also named Amazon Prime’s The Man in the High Castle season four as “amazingly good”, challenging and involving.

HORROR & SUPERNATURAL

Black Summer, Dracula, The Haunting of Hill House, Servant, Stranger Things, THEM

When he’s not nursing kidnapped novelists back to health in the remote Colorado cabin where he lives, Stephen King goes in for a bit of scare-action on the TV. He called Mike Flanagan’s adaptation of Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House “close to a work of genius” despite not being a fan of revisionism of its kind in general, and praised M. Night Shyamalan’s Servant for its focus, acting and atmosphere, adding “if there’s anything creepier or more binge-worthy than this, I don’t know what it is.” He loved Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss’ BBC Dracula, calling it terrific and “VERY bloody”, found the first episode of Amazon Prime Video’s THEM scared the hell out of him, and praised Netflix’s Black Summer for reinvigorating the zombie drama: “Just when you think there’s no more scare left in zombies. THIS comes along.” As for Stranger Things, he described the first season as like “watching Steve King’s greatest hits” in a good way.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Next week on What Famous People are Watching: is Stanley Tucci really that big on the Westminster Dog Show, or is he more of a The Underground Railroad guy? We find out.

The post Stephen King’s Favorite TV Shows According to His Twitter Raves appeared first on Den of Geek.

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longlivelindanny · 3 years

Text

You’re Alive, You’re Alive

Paring: Danny & Linda Reagan

Rating: M

Genre: romance, smut

She didn't know exactly where she was- somewhere in Manhattan, but she had no idea where. She had a feeling, a weird, strong feeling she needed to find someone- a man. She had no idea if she knew the man, but her gut and heart were screaming "find him!" She tried, asking around for him and getting now where since she couldn't produce a name or face or any sort of defining feature or characteristic. Feeling almost defeated, she went into one more bar.

She stood at the bar, talking to the bartender. "Excuse me. I know this is going to sound weird, but I'm looking for a man. I don't know his name or where he lives or what he does, but I need to find him."

"How can you be lookin' for someone you know nothin' about?"

"I don't know." She sighed and looked up at the tv. There on the screen, was a handsome man talking to the press. "Hey! That's him!"

The bartender looked up, "that's the commissioner's son- Danny Reagan's his name."

"Danny Reagan. Do you know where he works, where he lives?"

"Where he works, yeah. Over at the 5-4."

"The five-four? What's that?"

"Have you been livin' under a rock? It's a police station."

"Could you tell me where it is?"

She listened closely to the directions, nodding along, everything sounding vaguely familiar. "Thank you."

She set out on her journey, not knowing at all what to expect. What if this Danny character was married? What if he had kids? Or what if he was sleeping with that pretty Latina standing next to him on the tv screen? The woman had so many questions, questions she craved answers for: the most important one being "who the hell am I?"

**********

"There has to be something we missed," Danny was standing at his desk, shifting through papers strewn haphazardly across the surface.

"We just told the press everything's fine." His partner, Maria Baez, lifted her hand in a shrug.

"We have to lie to the press to keep them at bay. This doesn't seem like a normal murder. It's all too... neat."

"I can head over to the neighbor's again, see if they actually have more to tell us."

"Good idea."

"I'll keep you posted." Baez grabbed her coat and left the building.

"Um, excuse me."

There was a tap on Danny's shoulder and he turned around to face the woman. His heart immediately started pounding for reasons unknown.

"You don't know me, and I don't know you, but... something is telling me to look you up. I think- what's the matter?" She stopped her talking, a look of concern crossing her face. "You look like you've seen a ghost!"

"What's your name?"

"I don't know."

"Where'd you come from?"

"Somewhere dark and dingy and scary. Jersey, I think."

"How'd you get here?"

"Hitched rides until I came to Manhattan. Asked around about you, and when I got an answer, I came here. Why? Is something the matter?"

"This is going to sound weird, but do you have a tattoo on your ankle? Two Chinese symbols?"

"Those are Chinese?" She plopped her foot on his chair, the skirt she was wearing riding higher up her thigh. "What do they mean?"

"Peace and mind, love and happiness."

"Oh! Those are good things to have."

Danny licked his lips, swallowing hard. He was freaking out, and he was sure it was due to the stress of the case. "This will sound weird again, but... do you have a tattoo, right above your ass? Left side. A puzzle heart, one side blue, the other side purple? The blue has 'Danny' and the purple has 'Linda'?"

"Uh... I don't know."

"Can I check?"

"Here? In front of all these people?"

Why wasn't she protesting him looking in the first place? If she was who he thought she was, she'd protest immediately. "No, back here."

She let him take her hand, and her stomach fluttered. She followed him as they weaves through the detectives and into a back room.

"May I see now?"

"Okay." She turned around and pulled her skirt past her ass, letting rest at her thighs.

There he saw the tattoo, and the scar on her back from the bullet. He backed up until he sat on one of the cots.

She looked behind her, and pulled up her skirt. She walked over to him, "what's wrong? Are you sick?"

"I know who you are."

"Really? Who?"

"You're Linda.... my wife."

"Your wife?" She smiled widely, "alright! My name's Linda?" When he nodded, she continued, "Linda what?"

"Linda Rose O'Shea Reagan. We have two kids: Jack and Sean. Jack's in college, and Sean will graduate high school this year."

"They're so big!"

"Gentleman, too. Like you taught them."

"Danny, if I'm your wife, then why aren't I with you and our boys? Why was I-"

"In New Jersey somewhere?"

Linda nodded, sitting next to him on the cot. A warm feeling filled her chest; it was familiar and comforting, and something she hadn't felt in three years.

"You were airlifting a patient-"

"Nurses don't do that." She interrupted, "how did I know that?"

"They don't, which means the crash and everything was staged. Meaning you were kidnapped for three years, and are now back. But you've got amnesia."

"Amnesia? Is that why I can't remember anything?"

"Yes."

"Where do we live? Will you take me there? How did you know that I'm your wife?"

Danny answered the last question first. "You look exactly like my wife. Only her hair was dyed blonde, and she had cut it a little past her chin." He pushed her long brown hair behind her ear. "And the tattoos. Linda had- you have tattoos like the ones I described, and are on you. You've got a-"

"A what?"

Should he tell her about the bullet in her back? About how she was shot twice? "A scar on your back, sorta near your spine. I'd know those tattoos and scar anywhere. It was your eyes, too. My wife has the most electrifying blue eyes I have ever seen."

She looked into his eyes, again feeling the warmth in her chest, and somewhere decidedly lower. "Are you going to kiss me?"

"Oh, hell yeah." He cupped her cheek with his palm, bringing her lips to his. A sense of relief and euphoria washed over him as she kissed him back; if he had any doubt she wasn't his wife, it was gone now. No one in the world kissed him like Linda kissed him.

Linda didn't want the kiss to end; she hadn't been kissed for three years, and she didn't even remember being kissed before she was taken away from her husband. Her breathing became heavier as the kiss intensified. Reluctantly, they both pulled back for air.

"Danny, you said I was a nurse. I was wearing scrubs before I was able to shower and get a new pair of clothes."

"You were the best nurse... can I take you home?"

"Will you?"

"Yes." He left work with her, leaving no explanation with anybody as to where he had gone off to this time. The drive to the house was a little awkward- what does one say to their dead wife who's actually alive but has no memory of anything?

“Is this it?” Linda looked at the cute home when they pulled up to the driveway.

"Not much, but it's home."

"No, it's cute. Did I live here?"

He swallowed again, "no."

"How come?"

"I'll tell you later." He walked over to her, reaching for her hand.

She wouldn't let him, "tell me now."

"Our old house- there was a fire, and we lived with my Dad for a bunch of months. You died- were kidnapped May 28th. I got this place in August."

"Oh."

"C'mon," he held his hand out again, and this time she took it. "I'll show you around."

Linda listened carefully as he told the story behind the pictures to her. She was filled with love and melancholy, realizing she didn't remember the life she had.

"It looks like a nice life. I wish I could remember it."

"You will. It'll come back to you." Danny frowned when she started to cry. "Don't- don't cry. It'll be alright." He hugged her tightly, rocking her back and forth.

When her tears stopped, she quietly asked, "will you take me to the bedroom?"

Danny was surprised to hear that, even though that had been what he wanted to do ever since he discovered that Linda was alive. He led her to the bedroom without a word, and closed the door behind them out of habit. "It's lovely in here, without you."

She smiled at that, "I've missed you. I didn't even know who or what I was missing, when I was gone. But I now I know. It was you.... you protect me, don't you?"

"I didn't protect you from being taken." It was out of his mouth before he could keep it in.

"That wasn't your fault." She had no idea if that was true, but her husband needed reassurance. She stepped up to him, pressing her lips against his in a sweet kiss. She slipped her hand to the back of his head, the other one resting on his chest. The warmth inside her spread much like her husband's warm tongue in her mouth. She knew she missed this, even if she didn't remember it.

Linda moved her hands beneath his jacket, resting them on his shoulders. She took the jacket it off, and it landed on the floor in a crumpled heap. She moaned when Danny took off her cardigan, her hair getting frizzy from the dry air and static electricity.

"I was a blonde?" She nearly whispered, focusing on popping the little white buttons to his powder blue Oxford shirt.

"And a brunette some of the time. But mostly blonde." His shirt joined his jacket on the floor.

"Semper fi," she traced the inking on his chest, above his heart.

"Code of the Marines. Always faithful."

"You're a marine and a cop?"

"Ex-marine."

"Were you honorably discharged?"

Danny thought about his answer- he really wasn't. He could'nt be 'honorably discharged' if he was the only one who made it home. But he didn't want to upset his wife, so he answered, "yeah."

She traced his other tattoo, the Orange one on his right shoulder. "Linda Rose, with a rose."

"That's you." He took her blouse off, then her bra, and they were both half naked, standing in the bedroom.

As sexy as he was, standing there in no shirt and his tie still around his neck, Linda slowly started to remove the tie. "Were we kinky? Did we ever use this tie?"

He thought about being literal, telling her it wasn't that exact tie, but he decided against it. "We were fairly kinky. You liked being constrained."

"Really?"

"Mhmm."

"Interesting..." she pressed against him, sloppily undoing his belt. "Your pants sit low on your hips." With the belt discarded, she dipped her fingers into the waistband. "I like it."

Danny moaned when her hand sunk into his underwear. How he missed this, missed her! He missed everything about her, and was thoroughly convinced all this was a very vivid dream. There was no way he was this lucky, getting his supposedly dead wife back in his arms again.

Linda kissed his neck, nipping at the flesh as she unbuttoned his pants and slid the zipper down. Together they kicked their shoes off, with as much ease as they had had before she went away. If they had been sitting, drinking coffee, Danny would have to come up with the impossible task of telling the family all of it was fake. He didn't even know it was fake until an hour ago, and dare he say he was happier than the day he married the Angel?

"Linda," her name escaped his lips as her own found that spot on his neck. He felt his pants slip down to his ankles, and he stepped out of them while tugging Linda's skirt down. He picked her up slightly, away from the skirt, and sat on the bed. She straddled him, both of them in only underwear.

"Is this a rule?" She whispered nearly breathily, sending more heat through her husband's body.

"What?" He started kissing her jaw, palming her breasts with his hands. He smirked at the moan that came from her when he tugged on a pert nipple.

"The... the mutual taking off of- ah!- of clothes?" She barely got the question out, mostly focused on how she was pressed against him.

"Unwritten rule."

Her "Oh" turned into a low, dirty groan in the back of her throat as Danny's fingers tapped the front of her underwear. He dragged his finger across the dampening fabric, nipping at her collarbone. "Danny..."

"What is it? What do you want?" How easily he fell back into one of her favorite bedroom games.

"Touch me." She moved her hips, her core rubbing against his fingers. "More."

Danny obliged, feeling his underwear tighten further as he felt Linda's now wet undies. He scratched at them, pleased her eyes closed and her mouth dropped open. "Your wearing too many clothes."

As he hooked his fingers in the band of her underwear, she answered, "you too."

Clumsily, they rid of their underwear, and soon she was sitting on his lap again, fabric barriers gone. A curse fell from her lips when she felt him against her. It had been years since she was this happy, this pleasure stricken. It felt fantastic and very, very new all at the same time.

Danny's fingers found her entrance, and he teased her by doing the 'come here' gesture. She rolled her hips, signaling she wanted more. He slipped one finger inside her, then quickly added another, her choppy breaths hot against his ear. Only for a moment or two did Danny stop the movements. He faltered slightly when Linda's hand wrapped around his aching length. He moaned her name, and she kissed that spot beneath his ear, moving her hand up and down.

He had had about thirty seconds to think on how this would go. He was pleased how easily it was going, as if Linda hadn't been taken away from him at all. It had the feeling of a normal nooner. He pulled his fingers out, picking her up and laying her on the bed.

Linda attached her lips to his, her hand still pumping his length. He moaned in her throat, and she knew she was so close. Her toes curled as he started kissing his way down her body; a filthy sound came from her mouth when he pressed his lips against her heat. She was breathing through her mouth as shocks or pleasure pealed through her body, "Danny."

He lifted his head slightly, "yes?"

"I want you... inside me."

He complied, pressing himself into her until she whimpered. He stopped quickly, knowing that whimper wasn't one of pleasure. "Linda?" He swept her hair from her face.

"I... it's been a bit."

He felt stupid for not thinking about that. He found her hand, lacing their fingers together. "Tell me if it's too much?"

She nodded, squeezing his hand. They locked eyes as he slid fully into her, and for a few moments, the sting was enough to make her cry. Then she got used to it, and kissed him, murmuring into his mouth to continue.

She found her high first, screaming out his name. He followed her, the old habit of making sure she was happy first, still with him. After another round in the shower, they laid together beneath the covers.

Linda traced nonsense patterns on his chest, her eyelids getting heavy. "That was fabulous."

Danny chuckled and kissed her head. "I'm so glad you're back. You have no idea- I was..." he had wondered when the tears of joy would hit him.

Linda lifted her head, "you're sad?"

"No, I'm so happy." He crushed her against him, hugging her tightly. "You're alive, you're alive. And it's real."

#lindanny #Linda Reagan #Danny Reagan #lindanny smut #how the show should end

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sergeant-donny-donowitz · 4 years

Text

The Intern (CliffxReader)

Requested by @perawuat

Let me know if you want me to add you on the OUATIH taglist! :)

"Y/n? You comin' or what?" Your roommates stopped and looked to you for an answer.

You shook your head with a sigh, "Not tonight, sorry guys."

One of your friends, Ziggy, raised her eyebrow, "Oh come on, Y/n. Live a little!"

There was a party on campus. One of the many....many parties you'd bailed out on that month alone.

They just weren't your scene.

You were a bit old fashioned. More of an intellectual. You liked cafes, ballets, and developing photos. Your friends loved clubs, protests, and being in those photos. Most of your friends were hippies, and whether you liked to admit it or not, they kept you balanced up with the times.

Your other roommate, Rowan, nodded, and nudged you a little with his elbow, "Come on! It's gonna be far out, man!"

Your other friend, Odie, adjusted their collar, "I heard there's gonna be some cats from Berkeley, baby!"

You sighed.... Berkeley kids were known to be on another level of hippy-ness.

Ziggy wrapped her hands around your forearm and bounded up and down with pleading, wide eyes, "USC kids are coming through, come on!"

You studied at UCLA, USC also happened to be a bit of a party school, and was also a rival school. It was certain there'd be a fight or two added to the expected chaos.

"There's gonna be booze, dudes, and no narcs! C'mon, it'll be groovy, baby!" Odie held their hands in the air, vibing and dancing with the wind, "Live a little, Y/n!"

You shook your head, your arms crossed over your books across your chest "Maybe next time, guys." Rowan groaned, "Aw don't be such a drag, Y/n!"

You smiled a little, "You guys go ahead. Catch you tomorrow?"

You walked to the end of the block together. They'd cross the street to get to the party, you'd keep walking down the block to get to your dorm.

There was a parking lot on the corner. It was empty save for a single trailer.

As you waited for the lights to change you all looked into the lot.

Rowan leaned in, and whispered "I heard it belongs to professor McHarris. Say his wife ditched him and how he lives in a trailer."

Odie shook their head, and rolled their eyes with a sigh, "Ugh boys. Who told you that? I heard..." They leaned into the circle, and muttered in annoyance, "It's. Just. Abandoned. Here."

Rowan frowned in disbelief, "Who'd abandon a perfectly good trailer?!"

Odie shrugged, pulling on a pair of shades as they squinted against the setting sun, "Who wouldn't?"

Ziggy, a theater major, and naturally a lover of storytelling, smirked as she leaned in. "Well...I heard some weird stuff goes on in there. Some cult leader or something crashes there late at night after he goes PSYCHO." She waved her fist around like Norman Bates and laughed as the rest of you stepped back and shuddered in horror.

The light turned green and your friends waved goodbye.

You turned and walked down the block as they crossed the street.

You sighed as you climbed up the stairs to your apartment and opened the door. You sat down, and stacked your books and projects up, and started working. You didn’t like parties, but you liked fun and adventures. You liked doing your own thing, sometimes. But, right now you had some work to do... You could have sworn you'd studied the whole night through.

You slammed the books shut. Your eyes were dry and tired from all the reading. You sighed and looked up at the wall. You had strung up photographs you'd developed over the weekend. Some of them were a bit questionable, a little on the avant-garde side of art. But all in all, your work was a masterpiece. The rows of strung up pictures were just a snippet of your impressive portfolio.

Consequently, you'd just gotten an internship in Hollywood on a set.

You were starting the next morning, and looking forward to it, though you were understandably nervous about it.

It was also part of the reason you didn't really want to go to the party..

True, you could have gone just for an hour or two...but acid and protest tunes weren't really up your alley. Maybe a cigarette, gin and tonic, and some Rat Pack records.

Your roommates and friends were probably talking about a protest that would happen on campus next week. But, that also wasn't your thing. You just weren't comfortable with crowds and loud noise. Mysteries.. Now that was where it was at.

At least to you.

You looked at your watch, expecting it to be 3 or 4 am... It was only midnight.

The night was still young.

And you were restless.

You stood up... For once in your life you were going to be impulsive and assertive. You were going to do something crazy.

You were going to find out who the hell really lived in the trailer.

You pulled on your denim jacket, and put on your red go-go boots, rushed out the door, and down the stairs, rushing to the parking lot before you lost your new found sense of curiosity.

You wrapped your fingers against the chain link fence, your eyes zeroing in on the lone trailer in the center of the dark lot.

You sighed, trying to force yourself to do one exciting thing with your life. "Don't be a drag. Don't be a drag, don't be a drag..."

You trudged through the darkness and hovered around the trailer. It was dark and silent. Maybe Odie was right. Maybe it really was just abandoned...

Or maybe...

Maybe Rowan was right. It was rare, but he had his moments.... Maybe that professor really was just trying to get by...

Or...horrifically but also possibly, what if Ziggy was right?! She always had hear-say and gossip down to a t... Besides...

Serial killers weren't not a thing in big cities.... What if this cult leader rumor was real?!

You were close to the door.. You didn't even knock on the door when you heard a guttural growl and a loud bark.

You fell back in fear, and pushed back on your heels and palms.

You unexpectedly ran into something...

You turned around, feeling cold with fear, "Holy shit it's the serial killer..."

You looked up and he looked down.

He was wearing sunglasses for some reason...

You held your breath, "Definitely a serial killer."

He wore a denim jacket over a black shirt.

He reached down and pulled you up, with a seemingly, and oddly friendly smile. "She doesn't bite." He threw his cigarette onto the ground and put it out with his foot.

"Wh...who are..." He was kinda cute... A bit on the older side. And...also still probably a serial killer.

"My dog. Her name's Brandy." He shrugged matter-of-factly, as he looked through a key ring.

You sighed calming yourself down a bit, reasoning that a serial killer wouldn't be human enough to have a dog. You hoped...

He started to unlock the door as he clicked to calm his dog down. "So any particular reason why a kid like you's fuckin' around here and isn't home and asleep?" "Why wouldn't a kid like me be out?" You thought you had him. He shrugged, "Out in the street alone where there's some real creeps?"

"You're not a creep, are ya?"

He chuckled a little " No. I dont think so at least."

You smiled a little as he sat on his makeshift porch, his dog sitting by his side.

"I'm not a kid anyway. I'm twenty-two."

He chuckled a little. He remembered what it was like to be so young, "So why aren't you at a club or a party or a protest or somethin'?"

You shrugged a little "Not really my scene."

"So you're not a hippy?" He sighed a little, a bit more at ease. Even if they were for peace and all, they made Cliff Booth a little uneasy, which wasn't an easy thing to do itself.

"Not really. And you.... Youre not a m..." You bit your lip. Why would a murderer admit to being a murderer?

"A what?"

"Well... Your trailer popped up out of nowhere and there's been... rumors about you..."

Cliff chuckled a little. He wasn't quite a star in Hollywood but rumors always managed to keep him in the spotlight.

"Yeah? What kinda rumors?" He petted Brandy as she laid her head on his leg.

"The best one was you were either a professor that got divorced and lost everything. Or a culty serial killer."

He laughed, "That's crazy talk."

"Yeah...so...who are you?"

He took his glasses off and you saw his beautiful blue eyes under the moonlight. "My name's Cliff. What about you, intruder?"

"Intruder?!"

He nodded, a little amused by your response, "Pokin' around somebody's home at midnight? Makes you an intruder."

"Student parking lot. You are ...probably not a student right, Cliff?" You smirked a little.

"Touche, kid. So...intruders are strangers. You don't wanna be a stranger, right?"

You laughed, "Guess not." You shrugged, "My name's Y/n. I study photography there." You pointed to a building down two blocks, looming like a castle over the new city lights.

Cliff whistled a little, "UCLA. Nice school. You know what you're gonna do when you're through?"

You nodded, "I graduate in a few months. And I just got an internship on some set in Hollywood. I start tomorrow. I wanna work cameras for movies some day. Guess this is how I'll start."

Cliff smiled, "Sounds like a dream, kiddo. Good luck out there." Cliff knew more than anyone that Hollywood was a cut throat place.

He meant it when he wished you luck.

And something about the way he said it let you know that. "Thanks Cliff," You smiled, until you looked around the parking lot and the dark streets. A few hours from then it would be awake with cops raiding the parties and kids scrambling to get to their dorms.

"You gonna be ok, old timer?"

Cliff laughed a little, "Does get loud around here sometimes. College was never really my thing."

"No?"

He shook his head "Nah. I got drafted."

"Heavy."

"Yeah... So I move around every now and then to keep things fresh. There's an empty lot behind this theater. I've been thinkin' of movin' out there next."

You felt a little sad for him. It felt so lonesome out there at night.

You asked again "You gonna be ok, Cliff?"

He smiled a little, "I get by, kid. Don't worry. You go out there, show em whatchu got tomorrow, ok?"

You nodded, "Thanks again, mister," you smiled as you started walking away. "See you around, Cliff!"

You waved back at him and he waved back with a soft smile and a sigh, "See ya, kid."

And...he did...

You were an intern on a set that you knew nothing about.

"Alright L/n. When the director says action you're gonna move down here with this camera. When you get to the third line you have to zoom in on Rick."

"Rick?" Your mentor of sorts nodded "Yeah. Rick fucking Dalton."

Your jaw dropped, "Rick Dalton? Like Bounty Law- Rick Dalton?!"

The cameraman nodded understanding you were star struck. You were fairly young so you'd probably grown up watching his shows. "Yeah. And. After lunch were gonna work with his stunt double over on the horses. That guy's crazy. His name's Cliff."

What were the odds...

"Cliff?"

You heard a third, familiar voice. "Yeah?"

The camernan smiled, "Speak of the devil!"

You turned around and sure enough there he was.

Cliff....

He took off his sunglasses, trying to figure out if it was really you. "Y/n?"

You smiled "Hi!"

He laughed "Well I'll be damned! This is where you're working!?"

You smiled and nodded "Yeah!"

Cliff smiled. He wanted to make sure you didn't end up like him. He knew a few names that might come in handy for you. He wanted to make sure you were alright.

Cliff didn't do that for many people...

Frankly...Well, he liked you.

And Cliff Booth didn't like many people.

He wasn't too social. A bit like you...

Somehow Rick convinced you to go to a Hollywood party with them.

Cliff had to go because Rick needed a ride, as always. And you went because you just wanted to spend some time with them.

They were quickly becoming some of your closest friends.

Cliff was becoming a little more than a friend, a little less than a fling.

But you wanted it to be so much more.

Cliff left you and Rick to get some drinks for the three of you.

Rick laughed as you told him the story of how you and Cliff met. "A serial killer?!" He laughed and wiped away a tear, "Wait till you hear the rumors about him around Hollywood!"

You laughed a little but then Rick noticed something was wrong. You were worrying about something as you looked around at the producers, directors, and actors.

"What's goin' on sweetheart?"

"You think I'll make it?"

He lowered his cigarette and asked, "You shot the Mexican stand-off scene in this week's episode?"

You nodded, "Yeah...? Shit...did someone say something? Fuck did I blow it?!"

Rick shook his head, "Oh, no, no, no! You did great! You're all they talk about in the editing room! You're gonna make it out here, kid."

Rick realized that couldn't be the only thing in your mind. He followed your eyes over to Cliff at the other side of the party.

Rick smiled a little as he murmured so only you could hear, "You know he really likes you?"

You smiled a little, "Ah, you’re just saying that."

Rick laughed and gestured to Cliff, "You really think he gets that cleaned up for just anybody, Y/n? You've seen him on set."

You giggled "I guess you're right."

Cliff made his way through a crowd and made his way back to you and Rick.

He smiled at you, and you smiled at him.

Something told you Rick might have been right...

You were going to make it.

And you were going to have Cliff by your side.

#ouatih #once upon a time in hollywood #cliff booth #cliff booth x reader #rick dalton

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blueberryraindrops · 4 years

Text

Blueberry’s Ultimate TUA Masterlist

KEY

Fics are organised alphabetically (articles e.g. ‘the’ will not count)

mostly gen and fiego fics

Download links are EPUB files only

authors can feel free to send me a msg if they want their fics’ download link taken down

Links are now unavailable on PC due to a Tumblr link limit (I also had no idea this was a thing, but apparently it is?)

Regular updates can be expected as long as I remain in the fandom

Last Update: 15/10/2020

FANFICTION

☁︎ actions are worth a thousand words by achilleees { E }

→ Download Here

“I think it would be best if we keep up the ruse for a short while longer,” Five said. “For the sake of time-space continuity.”

“Oh, so Klaus was right before, huh?” Diego said. “The fabric of the universe unravels if my hairdresser knows we’re not boning?”

☁︎ Adventures In Childhood [Series] by just_a_sunflower_girl { G / Partially WIP }

→ Download Here

Five really should have guessed that something would go wrong. The universe hated him, it was an abject fact. And right now, Five hated the universe right back.

The commission turns Five into a four year old, hoping it will make him easier to kill.

☁︎ all dressed up and naked by cathect { E }

→ Download Here

The skirt hanging off of it is pleated and pale pink, with two white stripes near the hem— like a cheerleader might wear, Diego thinks wildly— and Five looks almost awed. Diego doesn’t want to assume anything by an expression alone, but he can’t quite help it.

Before he can stop himself, the words are tumbling out. “That would look good on you.”

Or, the one where diego fucks five while he's wearing a skirt.

☁︎ another cog in the murder machine by Ford_Ye_Fiji { T }

→ Download Here

Five finally gets the breakdown he deserves

☁︎ As I Want You to Hear Me by karcheri { E }

→ Download Here

“It’s hard to explain.”

“Try me.”

Five sighs.

“I’m trying to prove that our current timeline has branched off from it’s initial trajectory by such a large margin that it could only have been caused by the existence of unknown variables interrupting the timeline at non-linear points throughout history. I believe that we are living in...let’s call it timeline 2.0.”

“I don’t understand,” Diego says. Nutcase, he thinks. Insanely hot nutcase.

This time Five smirks at him, looking bratty and arrogant and entirely too sharp; “I know you don’t.”

Or: What I like to imagine alternate/Sparrow Academy timeline 2019 Five and Diego are up to

☁︎ Bizarre For You Is Normal For Us by pupeez4eva { G }

→ Download Here

“I think he’s talking to himself again,” Ashley said, leaning forward. “Okay yeah he is — oh my god, is that kid talking to the mannequin?”

Maggie shot a glance behind her. Yes, the boy was talking to the top half of a mannequin.

“I love working here,” Ashley breathed.

Wherein Klaus, Dave, Five and Dolores go on a double date, and people are confused and very concerned.

☁︎ Blink by Lady_Origami { G }

→ Download Here

When Five blinks, sometimes he's back in the world of ash and embers. It's hard to remember how to breathe when that happens. In which Klaus tries to play the role of supportive brother with Ben's help, and Five struggles more than he lets on.

☁︎ Blood like Lemonade by Ford_Ye_Fiji { T }

→ Download Here

Hunting high and low to seek revenge, Brand new moral code, got made reluctant renegade. Leaving empty souls when he avenged, Evil spirits flowed he drank the blood like lemonade.

Five's sordid past comes to light in, quite possibly, the most unpleasant way

☁︎ Bloom by jenpix { E }

→ Download Here

The first thing he noticed was the heat. A sudden, overwhelming heat. It started by his neck, his throat tightening, cutting off oxygen to his brain. The heat spread lower, permeating throughout his chest and abdomen, focusing and growing in his groin. Every inch of his skin was on fire. He couldn’t breathe; he couldn’t think. He needed something- anything- to relieve the ache that had abruptly settled in his bones. Lust utterly consumed him.

“Something’s wrong.” Diego concluded.

☁︎ Call Me Wild Thing by Electra_XT { E }

→ Download Here

“Diego’s been screwing guys who look exactly like you,” Klaus said.

“True,” Five said.

“He acts embarrassed when you encounter him with one of these lookalikes,” Klaus said.

“True,” Five said.

“You want to bang him,” Klaus said.

Five hesitated.

☁︎ Comes And Goes (In Waves) [Series] by hujwernoo { M }

→ Download Here

The apocalypse happens, Five arrives in the rubble, and his entire family is dead.

However, one of them has power over ghosts. And even if being dead seriously sucks sometimes, Klaus is going to be there for his brother.

☁︎ Dead Aren't Good Company, The by RosyPages { G }

→ Download Here

They’d been back in time for less than a month when their father forced Klaus back into the mausoleum.

But maybe this time his family can do the right thing.

☁︎ Details [Series] by VeteranKlaus { T }

→ Download Here

The last time Klaus saw his siblings was at Allison and Patrick's wedding. A lot had changed since then; including the not-so-accidental, irreversible loss of his sight.

There's no time to tell them that, though. Not with the return of their long-presumed-dead brother and the impending apocalypse. Plus, it doesn't matter. He's got Ben as a good seeing-eye ghost.

☁︎ Digging Up The Past by FiveUmbrellaAcademy { E / WIP }

→ Download Here

"You want to roleplay me being raped." Five muses, stirring his margarita. He plucks out the tiny umbrella and leaves it abandoned on the edge of the table.

Diego splutters, before glancing wildly over his shoulders.

Five and Diego are in a busy bar, and Diego had absentmindedly suggested Five looking particularly hot, especially when he's pliant, almost as if he's being -

"What the fuck? Shut up, Five." Diego hisses, eyes darting around. "Anyone can hear you."

Five says nothing.

Or: Unfortunately, the roleplay triggers a memory Five desperately wishes he'd forget.

☁︎ do androids dream of electric sheep? by the_crownless_queen { T }

→ Download Here

Number Four is crying, and Grace was made to care for those children.

In which Grace was created to protect the children of the Academy. Even, as it turns out, from their father.

☁︎ don't waste your time (or time will waste you) by rosewitchx { T }

→ Download Here

He was an old man. He is sixteen. Ben dies next week. How does he know that?

“I think I broke it,” Five stutters, and for the first time in her short life Vanya sees absolute terror in his eyes.

Or, Five travels back again. Something goes wrong.

☁︎ Dulce Periculum (Danger Is Sweet) by Anonymous { E }

→ Download Here

Klaus swallows heavily.

He brings up the hand that says “Goodbye” on the palm up to Five's hair and rakes his fingers through the strands. When Klaus is blessed with a high pitched whine, he knows he's done for.

or: Five wants something stronger than alcohol.

☁︎ Fighting (Pre)Determinism by chibi_tantei { T / WIP }

→ Download Here

They go back in time, determined to rewrite their own family history. Only problem is, only one of them looks the proper age to get near their younger selves.

Or, six months after Five stormed out, determined to time travel, he returns home. His siblings are happy to have him back, but he's acting differently...

(Or, Five goes undercover as himself. Twice the siblings should make saving the world easier, right? Yet somehow, he's only now realizing how many issues his family has to fix.)

☁︎ Five and Dave's Life Changing (Life Saving) Field Trip by neuronary { T }

→ Download Here

The little boy, who Dave could now see was not as little as he’d first thought, shoved a tin mug at him. “Drink this.”

Dave drank. It tasted sickly sweet and slightly citrus-y. “Who are you?”

“Five.” The boy’s scowl deepened at Dave’s confusion. “Klaus’ brother.”

Or, Five saves Dave's life to stop Klaus from moping. From Dave's perspective, a very grouchy, sleep-deprived twelve-year-old kidnaps him and he finds it much more entertaining than he should.

☁︎ Five And Diego Take Ukraine by yawarakai { G }

→ Download Here

It’s definitely her. She's around fifty, and striking – Diego can see where his brother gets his features. Light skin, grey eyes, hair dark and straight, slim. She’s a carbon copy of the boy standing before her.

“Da?” Five’s mother asks warily.

☁︎ Forward Trajectory by karcheri { M }

→ Download Here

“Ha ha,” the cop replies,” How’s your little troupe of nerds today anyways?”

His Professor groans, burying his face in the man’s neck and Nick winces. He should’ve anticipated that answer.

“That bad, huh?”

Or: Every semester students work themselves to the bone to score the highest mark on Professor Five's final project.

☁︎ Ghost Math by pinstripedJackalope { G }

→ Download Here

Number Five needs a new hobby now that the apocalypse is off. He decides to help Klaus--and in turn maybe he'll help himself.

☁︎ game of waiting, a by sky_blue_hightops { G }

→ Download Here

He was always the fastest. He always beat the others up the stairs, down the halls, through time and space. If there's one lesson he's learned, it's that there's always a finish line. A stopping place. Blood bubbles from between his fingers, and suddenly there's no air in his lungs.

Five jumps in front of a bullet. He calls it quick reflexes. Diego calls it stupidity.

☁︎ Gift-Wrapped by punk_rock_yuppie { E }

→ Download Here

Diego discovers Five's secret.

☁︎ god-intoxicated by chrysostomos (nantes) { E }

→ Download Here

Of all the things Diego expected to get dragged into this month, meeting a mythological witch, finding out Five is married, and rescuing him from his unwanted sun god husband were not on the list.

☁︎ handling myself by achilleees { E }

→ Download Here

Five pressed his lips together. “I advise against… touching them with your bare hands,” he said, taking the pills out of his pocket and dropping them into Diego’s gloved palm. “It would be unwise.”

In the light streaming from the Academy windows, Diego could see the sheen of sweat on his skin, trickling down his temple.

“Oh my god,” Diego said, starting to laugh.

☁︎ Happy Accidents by Starrstruck_64 { G }

→ Download Here

You’re making a mess, is what Diego wants to snap back. Instead he hears his mom’s voice clear as day say ‘boys will be boys’ and without thinking he’s moving on autopilot.

Diego can feel his hands clenching rhythmically at his sides before he’s moving forward to take the bowl from Klaus and ripping the apron off in one smooth motion. Discarding the bowl to the side he works on getting the strings untangled and slips the apron over his own clothes.

“Out.”

He has so much work to do. The pancake is beyond salvaging, the kitchen is a mess, and he’s fairly certain the batter is inedible.

Aka: the fic where Diego’s mothering instincts go wild

☁︎ haven't you heard of meditation? by rosesareredvioletsareblue { T }

→ Download Here

"Klaus, you have a piece of glass sticking out of your neck!"

Klaus felt for the glass, wincing as he found it.

"Oh yeah. Fun." It took all of Five's willpower not to throttle him.

☁︎ Hidden Variables Theory, The by siriuspiggyback { T }

→ Download Here

Something has disturbed the space-time continuum, and it's up to Five to figure out what it is.

With a bit of luck, and a lot of alcohol, he might even manage to do it before he snaps and murders his siblings.

☁︎ Honey and Vinegar by JayTRobot { M }

→ Download Here

The Handler sends Five on a mission only he can complete - to seduce a known pedophile for information. Then kill him.

Five doesn't appreciate playing the honeypot.

☁︎ I Want It (I Got It) by Electra_XT { E }

→ Download Here

“Oh, Christ,” Five said, starting to grin. “Diego, no. Don’t tell me you’re actually into being called—”

“Shut up,” Diego muttered.

“It’s not sexy,” Five said. “It’s cliche and corny and macho and self-aggrandizing, and I’m disappointed in you.” He waited a beat. “Daddy.”

☁︎ i'm gonna be here til i'm nothing (but bones in the ground) by iguessyouregonnamissthepantyraid { T }

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Someone definitely just punched him in the chest, right? That’s the reason for that feeling? Or that last batch of pills had something seriously off-label mixed into them. Because there’s no way. There’s no fucking way.

He squeezes his eyes shut until dots burst behind his eyelids, but when he opens them, the hallucination doesn’t go away.

“… Five?”

☁︎ I'm The Daddy? by TUA (IAMS) { G / WIP }

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Five spends fifteen years in the apocalypse and two years working for the Temps Commission before breaking his contract and time traveling back to the year 2003; just a year after he originally went missing.

According to his calculations, wiping Reginald's existence from the timeline means the apocalypse never occurs. But of course, this leaves several newly orphaned fourteen year olds in his care.

Let the family bonding and therapy ensue.

☁︎ if the sky comes falling down by synchronicities { T }

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The equations are still wrong.

In 2002, Number Seven wonders why her siblings are acting odd.

(Or, the post-finale “Vanya doesn’t remember the time travel” fic)

☁︎ If You're Different And You Know It (you're not alone) by M3zzaTh3M3z { T }

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Five was different. He’d always known. Different from most people, what with his freakish birth, powers and unconventional upbringing, all that old news. And different from his siblings. He was smarter. His powers were stronger. And he’d never picked a name. All that was old news too. But there was something else that separated him from the rest, something he didn’t know how to put a finger on, how to categorize, analyse, understand. Five didn’t like not understanding. It was probably Klaus that made him first notice something was off.

☁︎ Is the sadness everlasting? (love, I think it is) by ArmedWithMyComputer { T }

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A look into what Klaus' newly discovered ability could mean for the siblings.

Diego could feel his whole body trembling as he faced the ghosts, only able to take shallow breaths as he struggled to process the true horror of what he was seeing.

And then they started howling.

The sound pierced though his stupor and forced him to his knees instantly. It was like nothing Diego had ever experienced before, and he was consumed with the intensity and overwhelmed by a deep chilling fear. It felt as though his mind had been taken over and all he could hear was the shrieks of grief, more intense than any emotion he had ever felt.

☁︎ It Does(n't) Matter by MYSTERYstew { T }

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It’s a familiar feeling, being lifted up by Luther and tossed around like he weighs nothing (to Luther he certainly does), it was a favorite move of Luther’s as a child. Nostalgia is not what Five feels, he’s too busy flailing as Luther throws him over the railing.

or, Five fails a jump

☁︎ Jealousy Sucks by FiveUmbrellaAcademy { E / WIP }

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"God, Diego." Five rubbed his temples, sounding exasperated. "He's our brother."

"I'm your brother, too." Diego blurts out. Fuck, now he's sounding like an insecure, whiny boyfriend. Perfect.

Five just stares back at Diego, his eyebrows burrowing.

At the physical age of seventeen, Five has, in Klaus' words, grown up hot.

☁︎ Just One Minute by willowhisperer { T }

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Five holds up his end of the deal, soaked in blood. The Handler decides to toy with him a little while longer.

Maybe it's revenge, maybe she's riding the high of her shiny new position as head of the Commission.

Really, she just wants to win, once and for all.

☁︎ Kinktober Day 12 - Crossdressing by Multifangirl69 { E }

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The Umbrella Academy Kinktober Fest//Day 12

☁︎ Kitten Socks by sky_blue_hightops { G }

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Klaus's lost his favorite pair of socks (again) (Ben shut up) and finds them in an unexpected place.

☁︎ Lessons 'verse [Series] by Soulykins { T }

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Five was maybe four years old when he figured out that he was pretty much ride or die for his siblings. He was also four when he figured out that in the Umbrella Academy, you could never let Reginald Hargreeves figure out what you loved lest he use it against you. There was safety in aloof indifference, more than could be found anywhere else under their roof.

Five times Five Hargreeves protected his siblings the best ways he could, and the one time he failed.

☁︎ Lethe by shoelaces { T }

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Le·the | A river in Hades whose waters cause drinkers to forget their past.

Or: Five loses his memories instead of Vanya, and it falls to his siblings to raise a superpowered teenager in the 1960s, all whilst preserving their own new lives and preventing yet another apocalypse.

☁︎ Like an abyss by fridayyy { T }

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For the second time, Five has to (gets to?) grow up.

☁︎ Like Oxygen by sevansa { T }

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Klaus's powers may be a bit more extensive than just seeing the dead, he's not sure what to do about that.

The one where Klaus's power is not ghosts, but souls and that makes a hell of a difference.

☁︎ master of my domain by achilleees { E }

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“You’re asking five 13-year-old boys not to jerk off for – it can’t be done,” Luther says. “Now that we’re older, it would be different, but back then –”

“Excuse me, I could do it,” Five says. “I could certainly outlast all of you.”

They all look at each other.

“Oh, no,” says Allison.

☁︎ Meet the Hargreeves Siblings by AmyR { G }

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Klaus is found passed out by a confused Patch and Beaman. When Diego comes to get him, refusing to divulge who the unconcious man was, things get weird. At least the first time. The second time, it was a different person. And then the third. Then the fourth.

Until finally, explanations are demanded.

☁︎ Mellow Rays of a Departing Sun [Series] by Emotionally_Detached (Yeah_Toast) { T }

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He makes it. He time travels and makes it through another apocalypse. He makes it, but his siblings don't.

His siblings don't make it, except he's in his own childhood and they're still here, alive and thirteen and he can fix things.

He will fix things

☁︎ Midmorning Coffees and Therapy Sessions by wereworm { G }

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Local woman working at coffeeshop accidentally adopts a child and gives advice with a focus on getting closer to siblings when she, herself, has a sub-optimal relationship with her sister.

Or the time Five went to get a good cup of coffee and ended up slowly befriending the barista while trying to reconnect with the siblings he hasn't seen since his childhood without the looming threat of the apocalypse anymore.

☁︎ most dangerous place in the world, the [Series] by Princess_Sarcastia { T }

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"Grace is the third model in a series created by and for Sir Reginald. She has access to the knowledge obtained by her predecessors in their time assisting Sir Reginald in his many endeavors.

All three of them were primarily designed as protectors. Do no harm, just as Mr. Asimov said!

But Grace is slightly different."

[priority one: protect the children]

☁︎ Need a Vacation by Electra_XT { E }

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“You ready for a relaxing weekend at the beach?” Diego said.

“Thrilled,” Five said, looking down at the map in his hands. “A relaxing weekend of hunting down a hired killer and pretending I’m dating my brother.”

☁︎ New Life, A by BirdInTheCave { T }

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Allison had convinced Ray to come back to 2019 with her and her family and after a month of being cooped up in the house with the other Hargreeves plus their own unconventional guests, Ray suggests they spend some time alone. He's still struggling to fully comprehend the new world he's stepped into but he's determined that with Allison at his side he can get used to anything. Allison can't find a reason to say no. She should have said no.

Luckily for her, Five will always be there for his family, now that he's back.

☁︎ Next time, hire a nanny by TheArchaeologist { M }

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While the rest of his family go out to Vanya’s concert for the evening, Five, still recovering from the remains of a lingering chest infection, agrees to watch Claire. He is fifty-nine, he can handle a little girl for the night.

Everything goes fine.

Until it very much doesn't.

☁︎ Not my body, not my life (But I am here) by Panonnymous_Bloom { G }

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He wasn't going to explain to Diego why exactly he was following Allison's every move with his eyes because he didn't own anybody any explanations, especially not his simpleton of a brother who seemed to think that every Alpha was going to pounce on Allison at the first sign of any heat.

Allison's decision to spend her heat in the house leads Five to a small realization - and even smaller desire - but he will kill a thousand men before admitting to it.

☁︎ Not with me by ClaraCivry (Kat_Of_Dresden) { T }

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They never asked if any of that blood was his. Five is bleeding, and he is also giving up.

AU to 2X07, with hurt Five because after all that boy has been through...

☁︎ Number Five | And The Things that Make Him Tick [Series] by Kraeyola { T }

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It's only been two weeks for him.

AKA: Five succumbs to two weeks worth of badly cared for (physical and emotional) injuries, and ends up extremely feverish.

☁︎ On My Terms by CivilBores { T }

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“I did what you asked,” he tells her. “Now, the briefcase.”

Her eyebrows raise in mock-surprise, red lips curling up her face in a sadistic smile.

“You didn’t think that was all, did you?” she asks.

AU: The Handler gives Five a slightly different deal.

☁︎ On This Day In History by telm_393 { M }

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Five had a...special relationship with the Handler during his time at the Commission, or maybe he didn’t. After the apocalypse doesn’t happen, he tries to order his memories of the last few years while also actively suppressing them. It goes badly.

His siblings are worried, and genuinely want to help. They are not unsuccessful.

☁︎ Out of My Mind by Electra_XT { E }

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“What happened?” Diego said. He looked down at himself. “Am I hurt?”

What happened? echoed a voice from the back of his head.

☁︎ Outside, For the First Time by Trees_Frogs_andPotentially_Treefrogs { G }

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Grace is torn between her programming to obey the rules set by Mr. Hargreeves, and her duty to the children, and decides that being a person is self determined.

☁︎ Partners, Parents, or None of the Above by DarkFairytale { T }

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Kenny's mom assuming that Diego and Klaus were A) a couple and B) Number Five’s parents was both bemusing and amusing at the time. But that was because it was the only time it had ever happened. Now though? Now they just can't understand why these misunderstandings keep happening.

☁︎ Raising the Bar by Electra_XT { E }

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Five looked ten years older. He was still youthful, early twenties, but he had suddenly and visibly become an adult. Diego had braced himself for… something, but not this. He was dressed heartbreakingly preppy— neatly tailored slacks, a shirt that fit him like it was made for him, and a casual blazer. Diego hadn’t known a blazer could be casual before, but the way Five wore the linen jacket made it seem genuinely effortless.

Of all the ways this new body thing could have gone, Diego didn’t expect him to be hot.

☁︎ rude awakening by Soulykins { T / WIP }

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When Five wakes up, he just knows someone is in the room with him. Of course, even he didn't except to come face to face with the Handler who he'd thought to be very very dead. And he especially didn't expect her to break into his room and watch him sleep while waiting for him to wake up.

It's very fortunate that Diego and Klaus show up to wake him up and take offense to some random lady in the same room as their very uncomfortable, very thirteen-year-old brother.

☁︎ Screaming in the Face of Communication by papayaromantic { T }

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It's not that he doesn't want to pay attention to Five, just that he seriously can't hear what the boy is saying past the wailing of the torn apart woman in front of him.

☁︎ Second First Time by venDi { E }

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Five spent his early years learning about Alpha biology -- and he knows, recognizes the sudden shift in his family's scent, that his heat has sent them all into a very, very early rut.

☁︎ Servus by Anonymous { E }

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"They had been given a chance to start over, all of them, together. At least, that’s what Five intended, when he pulled he and his siblings from imminent death...He had watched his siblings be swept back to their collective childhood, armed with the knowledge of what was to come, and how to prevent it. He, on the other hand, had ended up somewhere entirely different."

Five receives one, final business proposal from the Handler, and her methods of persuasion are far from conventional.

☁︎ Shadow Elixir, The by Phantom_Vidar { E / WIP }

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With the apocalypse averted the Hargreeves attempt to rebuild their lives and transition into something that resembles a fraction of normalcy. A year later and strange visions start appearing to Klaus, of a dark space contaminated by souls bygone and a voice who aches to be free; especially Ben's. The apocalypse has passed but now another disaster awaits— one that Diego and Five might have accidentally walked into.

Alternatively: Diego and Five have sex and coincidentally start the next stage of the end of the world.

☁︎ shaking like I shook before by Anonymous { T }

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Five tries to deal with it alone, until he learns that he doesn’t have to.

☁︎ skirts and sweaters by slightlyworriedhuman { T }

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"I don't want to be a ‘cute little schoolboy’ anymore, alright?” Five snapped. For some reason, the thought of himself as a schoolboy was enough to make his skin prickle. Was it the implication that he was younger than the rest of them, less mature despite his life?

...Yeah, it was definitely that. Absolutely.Five wants a change in wardrobe. His siblings are more than happy to help.

☁︎ small changes by calypso42 { T }

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“I need to ask you something.” He set down the large stack of books he was carrying beside him. Klaus glanced at a few of the titles - Consciousness in the Brain - Memory & the Role of the Hippocampus - Soul vs. Matter: A Comprehensive Look at the Origins of Sentience - and grimaced.

“Are you… having an existential crisis, or something? Because I am possibly the worst person you could go to for that.”

...

When Five goes to Klaus to ask him something about his powers, Klaus doesn’t think much of it. At least, until he realizes that what he thought was simple curiosity was actually deeper than that, leading to a revelation about Five himself.

☁︎ Snacktime. [Series] by HotCocoaaa { G }

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There was a wolf spider, just, chilling on the table that morning when Diego came down for breakfast. A...a really big wolf spider. Just...a real hunk of a thing.

(“You...you just….you just ate a spider.” He murmured.)

It didn't end well.

☁︎ Special punishment by Anonymous { M }

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Five was the only one with a tattoo on his rib

☁︎ sweater weather by KittenAnarchy { G }

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Number Five, a dryer, and his first blink.

☁︎ take shelter by aloneintherain { T }

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AU where the apocalypse doesn’t follow the Hargreeves to the 1960s. Without the threat of nuclear annihilation hanging over their heads, the siblings can take the time to be a family again.

Until they find out that the Handler has been blackmailing Five.

☁︎ There are Stones in my Stomach and Worms on my Plate by TheArchaeologist { M }

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If you ever need a crash diet, try the apocalypse. It is fat free, dairy free, lacking in all the vital vitamins and minerals, and totally organic.

After all, look at Five. Weeks after stopping the apocalypse and he still can’t finish a plate of food.

☁︎ there is simply nothing worse than knowing how it ends by Drhair76 { G }

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"What's this?" He said pointing a finger at the bread and peanut butter that was laid across the table top.

Five rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "What do you think. It's a sandwich."

"Oh?" Klaus reached out a hand to brush the sleeve of his beloved hoodie. "And what's this?"

or, the one where Klaus 'loses' a hoodie, Five gets a hug and Ben is proud.

☁︎ they could care less (as long as someone'll bleed) by Ford_Ye_Fiji { M }

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Number Five is cornered once again by commission agents, but this time with his family.

Diego and Klaus learn something about their littlest-oldest brother.

☁︎ this is a bad town (for such a pretty face) by luciimariiellii { T }

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Five’s gone. (How the Hargreeves cope, and how they reunite.)

☁︎ time on my hands by achilleees { E }

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“If you orgasm, you’ll die,” Five said with a grimace.

Diego’s eyes went wide.

“Bet you wish you’d just been sterilized now,” Five said.

☁︎ Timelines 1-2.1 [Series] by dgalerab { M / Partially WIP }

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As the world ends, Five takes his siblings back into their child bodies on the day he originally left. With the knowledge of how the world ends fresh in their minds, the Hargreeves siblings do what they can to leave clues for their past selves on how to grow up a little less fucked up before returning to the present.

A present where they all have different lives they can't remember, there's a fun new apocalypse on the way, and Reginald Hargreeves remembers the day where all his children suddenly and inexplicably lost their minds and all respect for him at once a little too well.

☁︎ to unexplain the unforgivable by darkviverna { T }

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Ability to see the dead and having a temporal assassin for a brother don’t mix well.

☁︎ Too Much Too Little by 1spideyson { T }

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Five says nothing on the ride back, just gently presses the tips of thin fingers to his eyes and temples like his head is a new instrument he’s learning to play. Like he’s searching for the right notes.

Diego tries not to cast too many worried glances the boy’s way, but when Five crawls into Diego’s bed, shaking and grey, he can’t stop himself from speaking up.

A look at Five and Diego's relationship through a h/c lens.

☁︎ Too Old To Be So Young by KaseyBeth { T }

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Five winced loudly, pushing his head off the floor to see bright red smeared across his chest and stomach; crimson soaked into his shorts, running down his leg. His head fell back against the ground dizzyingly, and he groaned as someone touched the wound, biting his bottom lip as he tried to stay conscious. The end of life, of everything, was in three days; they didn’t have time for this, he didn’t have time for this. A bullet wound, a stupid bullet wound and all that stupid concern and worry, was just going to slow them down. There wasn’t time for mistakes, or hiccups, or rest and recovery. It was the end of the fucking world.

☁︎ trans diego & child five [Series] by iamnotalizard { G }

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eudora and beaman are surprised to find out diego has a kid; they're more surprised when they see what their relationship is like

☁︎ traumaversary by WeWalkADifferentPath { T }

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It follows him like an unscratched itch. Under his skin, over his body, around his energy, like a mosquito that won’t leave him the fuck alone.

April 1st. April 1st. April 1st.

(A character study of Five, with some inevitable family feels, in honour of March 24th).

☁︎ two can be as bad as one by myeyesarenotblue { M }

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“Five, sweet little Five” Klaus says, from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, next to one of the living room’s couches, instead of sitting on it like a normal person. “We love you but what the fuck”

Five growls, like he’s a dog or something. “It should correct itself”

☁︎ Uncle Five PT1 by glitched-coffee { G }

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Allison has to take care of Claire without warning the others but its all fine and dandy until Claire thinks she’s old enough to hear everything about Five. She’s seven.

☁︎ Unexpected Future, An by aseies { T / WIP }

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“I’m sure you’re looking forward to finding a way back to your own time as soon as possible,” Nedzu said. “I want you to know that U.A. will do everything in its power to help you achieve that goal. Time travel is a complicated equation to solve, but I’m sure if we put our heads together we’ll come up with something!”

Five raised a skeptical eyebrow. “And you’re just going to do that out of the goodness of your heart? I’m not even old enough for high school yet.”

“Well, we’re all heroes for a reason, no? What good are we if we can’t help a single child in need?” Nedzu pointed out with a pleasantly neutral smile as he sipped his tea.

OR: Instead of time traveling into the apocalypse, thirteen-year-old Five Hargreeves teleports in the middle of the USJ fight.

He gets a couple of new dads out of it.

☁︎ Vital Signs by aye_of_newt { M }

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Sometimes, it's difficult for Klaus to tell if someone is alive or dead.When Five shows up, covered in blood after killing the Board, Klaus panics.

☁︎ walls kept tumbling down, the by Ingu { T }

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It started small.

There was a nagging ache in his chest, phantom pain from where the bullets had pierced his flesh, in the overwritten timeline that never will be.

(the one where rewinding time doesn't miraculously resolve mortal gunshot wounds)

☁︎ We All Deserve Second Chances (but don't repeat your mistakes) by justarandomword, wolvesandnovas { T }

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Time-travelling gave Ben a second chance at life. He's not about to let Reginald Hargreeves ruin that for him and Klaus.

(a.k.a. Reginald takes Klaus' dog tags and the aftermath.)

☁︎ we didn't choose this life, we're just (kind of) living it [Series] by noodlerdoodler { T / Partially WIP }

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Five couldn’t move, standing by and watching complacently, as his younger brother grabbed him roughly by the front of his sweater. It was like he was watching a play he wasn't apart of, yet that was definitely his small body being tossed over the balcony. No doubt, Luther thought that he would just jump out of the way. He'd always jumped out of the way, sometimes without even meaning to, but now visions of a world on fire flashed through his head as his body plummeted towards the ground. Seemingly, he was tumbling through the air in slow motion and absentmindedly, Five wondered if this was his life flashing before his eyes. All he saw was the desolate world he’d left behind weeks ago.

When Five hit the ground, it was with a sickening cracking noise.

“Oh my god, Luther, what have you done?”

☁︎ with two arms by karcheri { T }

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What it comes down to, really, is that Five had been too eager for results. Once it became clear to him that there was a connection between his powers and his energy level the obvious course of action, as he saw it, was to test this information. The hypothesis was this: higher energy levels = stronger powers and the easiest way to get more energy is to eat more. Pretty simple stuff. Too simple.

or Five times that Five starves himself and one time that he gets called out on it.

☁︎ world of options, a by achilleees { E }

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“So did you ask Five about me?” Klaus asked.

“Was I supposed to do that?” Diego said.

“You are the worst fucking wingman,” Klaus said.

☁︎ year that wasn't, the by achilleees { E }

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Diego turned to Five. “I’ve already, uh, lived today. This has already happened.”

Everyone went still.

“Ooh, that’s a mind-fuck,” said Klaus.

☁︎ you from yesterday by questors (sieges) { T }

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The difference between who his siblings once were and who they are now.

☁︎ You Put Your Head In My Hands by shadowsapiens { M }

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“I need a favor.” Five scrambles to his feet, fluffy dark tail lashing behind him. “Don’t worry, it’s not the apocalypse.”

☁︎ You Shook Me All Night Long by Persephxneeee { M }

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Diego was right, Five thinking too much sometimes.

☁︎ zero to sixty by achilleees { E }

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“Man, have you seen me?” said Diego. “Are you really that surprised?”

Oh, Five thought.

“Seems right,” said Klaus, pleased. “Other than the turtlenecks. Very hard to take you seriously as a Dom in the turtlenecks.”

#the umbrella academy #tua #fic rec #masterlist #blueberry's fic recs

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solynaceawrites · 3 years

Text

Wires [5]: Marie Walters

Rating: Mature Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death Categories: F/F, F/M Fandom: Devil May Cry Relationships: Dante/Original Female Character(s), Implied Nero/Kyrie, Implied Vergil/Original Female Character(s), Implied Lady/Trish, Dante/Lirael Thorne, Dante/Lir Characters: Dante, Morrison, Nero, Original Female Character(s), Lirael Thorne, Lir Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Violence, Gore, Dark, Horror, Supernatural Elements, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Serial Killers, Angst, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut Summary: In Red Grave City, a serial killer stalks the streets. Lirael Thorne, recently transferred from Fortuna and looking for an escape from her past, winds up on his trail. Hunting him with her veteran partner, Dante Redgrave, they try to piece together the wires that bind the three of them together. In a race to catch him before he leaves more victims in his wake, the things thought buried will come to the surface, tearing lives and comfort apart.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

“A void in my chest was beginning to fill with anger. Quiet, defeated anger that guaranteed me the right to my hurt, that believed no one could possibly understand that hurt.” —Rachel Sontag

»»————-　⚜　————-««

There’s a particularly gruesome quality to death in the daylight. It’s a stark reminder that everyone will eventually die, a brush with human mortality that leaves those who see it uncomfortable, and the fact that the sun now is hidden by clouds and rain does nothing to lessen the effect. The body is located in an open expanse next to a jogging path, tucked neatly underneath a statue of an angel in prayer; all around the scene, yellow tape is strung from tree to tree to create a barrier that keeps the gathering of curious onlookers at bay, even if does nothing to stop them from craning their necks, their whispers drowned out by the patter of water on leaves and grass. Lir takes in everything else: the blood, the slick, dark asphalt of the trail, the cops in jackets with Forensics emblazoned on the back picking carefully through the debris. So much for good forensics, she thinks bitterly, though he’s never left us much to begin with.

At her side, Dante stands with his hands in his coat pockets, his expression frustrated and thoughtful. “Couldn’t have picked a better day,” he says tightly. “We’ll be lucky to get anythin’ off of her now.”

Lir nods in agreement. Back up at the top of the hill, a cruiser is idling at the curb with an officer standing by the back door and a man seated within, his face drawn and miserable. “Witness?”

“Dunno. We’ll have to ask.” He cranes his neck, then shouts, “Simmons!”

The young officer walks over hesitantly, his wide eyes darting from Dante’s face to the body and back again. Lir remembers how upset he’d been by the first victim and feels a mixture of pity and annoyance; Homicide is always tough on rookies, but if his stomach is truly this weak, he’d be better off in another department. “Yessir?”

Dante gestures to the statue. “You gonna fill us in?”

“Oh! Right. Sorry, sir.” Simmons fumbles a notepad from his belt and flips it open. She notices how he favors his right arm, which is slightly odd looking: like it was broken once and never quite healed correctly, leaving his hand resting a little crooked. He holds the notepad close to his body to keep it safe from the rain, which by now is a soft drizzle. “The call came in forty-five minutes ago. A woman walking her dog heard shouting and what she described as a girl begging, and she thought it was a domestic until someone said, and I quote, ‘I’m going to fucking kill you, you bitch.’ That’s when she phoned 9-1-1.”

It doesn’t sound at all like their killer, and her shoulders tighten with a new frustration. A distraction is the last thing they need now. “Where’s the witness?” Lir asks.

“Officer Galstin is getting her contact information, but I already took her statement,” Simmons responds, not meeting her eyes.

“And the guy in the cruiser?” she prompts.

Simmons glances over his shoulder. “He was here when Officer Galstin and I arrived. There’s blood all over him, and he had a knife on him, but he clammed up as soon as he saw us and tried to run. I caught him,” he adds with a bit of pride, and Lir looks down and notices the mud on the knees of his trousers. “We cuffed him and read him his rights, but he hasn’t said a word so far.”

Dante places his hands on his hips as he surveys the scene. “You rope everything off?”

“Yessir. Put up evidence markers on anything that looked interesting and contacted the M.E., too.”

Lir feels a begrudging speck of respect. “You did good, Simmons. Go see if Galstin is finished with the witness, then take our suspect back to the precinct and get him settled in interrogation.”

“Yes ma’am.” He flushes. “Sir.”

She waves off the mistake, then turns to Dante. “Doesn’t look like this is our guy.”

“Nope.”

“Morrison said it was.”

“That’s my fault,” Simmons interjects. “When I heard there was a killing in the park, I thought . . .”

“That’s alright, Simmons,” Dante says before Lir can think of a way to verbalize her frustration at the false alarm without ripping him a new asshole. “Rookie mistake. From here on out, get your facts before you come to any conclusions. Go help Galstin.”

The youth snaps a salute and hurries off, and Lir lets out a slow sigh. “Fuck,” she mutters.

“Don’t hold it against him,” Dante advises.

“I’m not,” she replies sharply. At his raised brow, she shrugs. “Like you said, rookie mistake. Doesn’t mean I can’t be pissed that someone else is out here killing women, now.”

He snorts. “At least this one was stupid enough to hang around.”

“Yeah.”

Together, they cross the clearing towards the statue and the body beneath. At first look, it’s easy enough to tell that the man who did this is not the same as the one who mutilated Sophie Marsons: this victim is clothed, her knitted scarf knotted around her throat, the front of her white shirt ripped and soaked with blood. Dante lets out a low whistle while Lir leans down, pulling a pair of gloves from her pocket and sliding them on. Trish is standing nearby, talking to a man with a camera, and Lir calls out, “You got your pictures?”

“Yup. Look to your heart’s content, Detective,” Trish replies.

Lir lifts the girl’s arms, first her right, then her left, taking in the deep cuts to her palms and fingers. Then she carefully tugs the scarf to reveal the livid bruises and claw-marks beneath before reaching into the purse on the ground next to the body. Inside is a wallet that she opens, pulling out the driver’s license. “Marie Walters.” Lir rocks back onto her heels. “She fought, and she fought hard. There are defensive wounds on her hands, and the ground is churned like she was kicking.”

Dante nods. “Reads like anger to me.”

“The scarf, though . . .” she murmurs. “Why start with strangulation, then end with stabbing?”

The leaves rustle as he crouches next to her. “You gotta think like a pissed off man, Lir. Look around you. What do you see?”

She bristles at the coaching. “A struggle.”

“Walk me through it.”

“I’m not a rookie, Dante.”

“Humor me.”

Huffing, she pushes herself to her feet and moves from marker to marker, talking as she walks. “They came down from the road. There are skid marks up here, which means one of them slipped in the mud and the other probably kept them from falling. Somewhere around here,” she pauses by a cone next to a tree, “they paused for a bit. There’s a half-smoked cigarette with lipstick on it that matches the shade she’s wearing, so she was either comfortable enough to enjoy a smoke with him or nervous enough that she needed one to calm down.”

“Right.” He stands, shoving his hands in his pockets. “So, somewhere between the cigarette and here is where the argument started. It gets heated, probably somethin’ she says going by what the witness heard. Strangling someone carries a lot of different meanings, but . . .”

“It’s a silencing tactic,” Lir finishes.

“Mm-hm. He didn’t want to hear what she had to say, and didn’t want anyone else to hear it, either. You know how long it takes someone to die from suffocation?”

The casual way he asks the question throws her so that she can’t formulate a reply other than, “No.”

“Five minutes until brain death occurs, if consistent pressure is held.” Dante looks around. “Public park, people walkin’ their dogs, he needs her quiet so no one knows what’s goin’ on. Now, even if you know what you’re doin’, strangling someone with a scarf ain’t easy. They’re in pain, fightin’ back, scratchin’ you and themselves bloody to get you to stop. You lose pressure for a second, the screamin’ starts.”

Lir’s stomach twists, shoving acid up her throat. “He didn’t know that. That’s why, when she wouldn’t stop struggling, he used the knife.”

“That’d be my guess.”

“What a bastard.” She takes off her gloves, shoving them into her pocket. “I say we go talk to the guy Galstin and Simmons pulled in.”

Dante nods in agreement. Together, they climb the rain-slick slope back up to the road, and Lir bemusedly uses the towel he offers to clean mud from her boots before getting into his car. The station is only a few blocks away, but morning rush traffic delays them so that what should have been a ten minute trip winds up taking closer to forty, and in that time Lir’s mind stews. It flips back and forth between Sophie and their newest victim, Marie Walters. Two women, murdered by men, brutalized and terrified and left to rot. Her nails bite into her palms as bile flavors her mouth. Are they connected? Or did this new bastard just get enough courage from seeing someone else do it that he decided to take a life, too? She’s so tense by the time they arrive at the precinct that her jaw aches from being clenched, and Lir forces herself to relax as they head inside to avoid any probing from her partner.

At the back of the building, down a hallway lit with bright white fluorescents, are the interrogation rooms. The three of them sit on the left-hand side, each with two doors: one for the observation room, one for holding suspects for questioning, separated by a wall and a pane of one-way glass with recording equipment set up to capture the conversations that occur within them. Lir and Dante step into Observation 1, where they find Morrison waiting, watching the man through the window.

“His name is Jonas Miller,” Morrison tells them. “No prior arrests, lives in Hyde Park with his wife, Lucille.”

Dante makes a low noise of surprise that mirrors how Lir feels. Hyde Park is one of the more affluent neighborhoods in Red Grave City, a gated community with manicured lawns, neat hedges, and large houses that start out with six figure mortgages. “He give you anything?” she asks, stepping closer to the glass.

“No. Hasn’t even asked for a lawyer.”

“Huh.” Miller certainly looks like he could afford one without a problem. Even from here, she knows that the watch on his wrist is a Rolex, that the shoes on his feet are too nice to be anything other than genuine leather, probably Gucci. “I’ll take him.”

“You?” Dante doesn’t sound angry, just startled. “Why?”

Lir is already halfway out of the door. “Because he killed a woman. Being questioned by one is going to throw him off.”

The door shuts off his answer. She pauses for a moment outside of Interrogation 1 to put her thoughts in order and breathe deeply to fight off the anger that’s been getting sharper all morning, since she first spotted that guy in the alley where Sophie died. Then she opens the door and steps inside.

Miller doesn’t look up as she takes the seat across from him and pulls out a notepad and a pen. His eyes remain downcast, focused on his hands, and Lir takes him in. His hair is mussed, his eyes bruised and bloodshot, and there are deep scratches in the tanned skin of his face, neck, and forearms. His shirt is too dark for her to tell if there’s blood on it, and if there was any on his hands, he’d been allowed to wash it off, a fact that makes her frown even as she takes the cap off of her pen and writes the date and time at the top of the paper. “Jonas Miller,” she says. He flinches. “Want to tell me what happened this morning?”

“Nothing,” he mumbles. “I don’t know why I’m here.”

Her fingers tighten on her pen. “You were found in Tellula Park with the body of Marie Walters. Officers Simmons and Galstin both stated that you ran from the scene with a knife in your hand.” Miller says nothing. “If we test that knife, do you think it will match the wounds on Marie Walters?”

Slowly, seeming dazed, he shakes his head. “I didn’t touch her.”

He’s lying, a voice whispers. The hair on the back of her neck stands on end at the sound of it, furious and grieving and not at all her own, and she takes a slow breath and counts to ten until the gray at the edges of her vision recedes. “We have a witness, Mr. Miller, one who will be able to identify your voice threatening to kill someone, we have your knife, which will match Marie Walters, and, going from the state of your face, there’s going to be enough skin under her nails to crucify you in court. If you cooperate with me, there’s a chance that the D.A. will work with you. If you don’t, then whatever it is you’re hiding is going to be blasted in the news. Do you understand?”

That gets his attention. He stares at her, his eyes wild, and stammers, “My wife, I-I have to get home to my wife—”

“I’m very sure Marie Walters would have liked to go home, Mr. Miller,” she says coldly.

“My wife is—”

“Why did you kill Marie Walters, Mr. Miller?”

“I never—”

“Did she threaten you, Mr. Miller?” Lir knows she should stop, that anything she gets out of this confession is going to be shit if she goads him any further, but, fuck, he’d been Mirandized and hasn’t asked for a lawyer, and it feels good to see him squirm. “According to her license, she was five foot five and weighed one-twenty. She was half your size, a college girl, so I’m struggling to see how she could have been so dangerous that you stabbed her eighteen times and strangled her with a scarf. What did she do to piss you off, Mr. Miller? What could a girl like that have possibly—”

“She lied to me!” he shouts, slamming his hands on the table. Lir refuses to let that frighten her, because there’s a gun at her hip and a knife in her boot, and he’d be an idiot to come after a cop with all the trouble he’s already about to get himself into. “She swore that she was on the pill, that she didn’t want anything other than a-a partner, and then she called me and said she was pregnant and demanded I leave my wife or she’d tell, and I . . . I . . .” He tapers off, hiding his face in his hands. “I just wanted her to shut up. Just once. She was such a bitch, always mouthing off, I just wanted her to shut the hell up for once.”

“So you killed her,” Lir states flatly.

Whimpering, he nods. A wave of revulsion rises within her; here is a man who looks no older than forty, with a million-dollar house and a wife, wearing designer brands, a man who had decided that he wanted to get his dick wet with a girl half his age, who had killed that girl like she was gutter trash when the consequences of his actions came to fruition, and he’s snivelling like an infant. “Did it ever occur to you, Mr. Miller, that it takes two to cause a pregnancy?” Her voice is ice. “Or did you simply assume that you were too good for a condom?”

His head snaps up, his mouth agape with shock. “What—”

“This is how it reads to me, and how it will read to a jury.” She pushes back her chair and stands. “You entered into a relationship with a college student, telling who knows how many lies to your wife. Did you promise Marie Walters that you loved her? That you would leave your wife for her? And then,” she continues, ignoring his sputtering, “when she, quite naturally, got pregnant—birth control fails, Mr. Miller, all the time—you killed not only her, but her unborn child, all because you were too much of a coward to deal with your actions. You are nothing more and nothing less than a repugnant, low-life, inexcusable—”

The door slams open, and Morrison steps inside, his face passive but his eyes furious. “Thank you, Detective. We’ve gotten what we need from him. The interview is now over.” To Miller, he says, “Officer Simmons will be along to book you while the D.A. decides which charges to press. Excuse us.”

Lir follows Morrison when he leaves, knowing that she’s fucked up but too wired to care. In the hall, Dante is waiting, and he gives a little shake of his head when he catches sight of whatever expression is on her face. Don’t, he mouths.

Morrison turns on her. “Are you out of your mind, Detective Thorne? Do you want that man to walk free? Because that is the only reason I can think of to explain why you’d behave so irresponsibly.”

“I got the confession,” she starts.

“A confession that we’ll be lucky to get admitted,” Morrison snaps. “One look at that and whatever defense attorney Miller hires will petition to get it thrown out on the basis of coercion! You didn’t question him, Thorne, you rode his ass and degraded him, and we’re lucky that he was read his rights and denied an attorney, because those are the only things that might sway a judge into keeping the confession intact.”

“He killed her!” Her voice raises despite her attempts to keep it under control, and she sees Dante wince from the corner of her eye. “It wasn’t some accident. He took a knife with him, he fucked her and then he stabbed her eighteen goddamn times! And you think I rode him too hard?”

Morrison’s mouth twists. “You might want to reconsider your tone unless you want to be working vice from now on, Thorne.”

She opens her mouth, only for Dante to step forward, his hands raised placatingly. “Chief, it’s been a long day. Hell, a long weekend. Neither of us have slept more than four hours, we lost a suspect this morning, and we’re getting nowhere with Marsons. Thorne’s a damn good detective, but even good ones have bad moments from time to time.”

Morrison cuts his eyes from Dante to Lir. “That true, Thorne?”

As much as it humiliates her to do so, she takes the lifeline Dante has given her. “Yessir.”

“Fine.” Morrison studies her a moment longer before turning away. “Even if we lose the confession, forensics will get enough to nail him. You go home and rest. I don’t want to see you for twenty-four hours, understood? I’ll need that long just to clean up this mess.”

She nods, and he glances at her over his shoulder. “I expected better from you, Thorne.”

Then he’s gone, leaving her to wallow in the unpleasant heat of chastised embarrassment, swallowing thickly against the tears that prick her eyes. A hand grips her shoulder, but she refuses to look at Dante, merely shrugging when he says, “Let me give you a lift home,” wishing, not for the first time, that her father was still around to give her advice.

#dmc #devil may cry #dmc dante #dante #dante sparda #dmc oc #lirael thorne #lir #dmc fanfic #dmc fanfiction #writing #story #myfic #wires

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thecatsrippedpajamas · 4 years

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THE PROBLEM WITH PRIDEFALL, EVEN IF IT’S NOT REAL: HOW THIS HAS HAPPENED BEFORE, IS STILL HAPPENING, AND WILL HAPPEN AGAIN, AND WHAT TO DO ABOUT IT.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE READ THIS REGARDLESS OF WHAT YOU KNOW ABOUT/HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT PRIDEFALL

I woke up this morning to a ton of posts about pridefall, and reblogged a bunch of stuff before soon finding out it had been “blown out of proportion”. I will not remove those posts. Just because pridefall has been revealed to be much, much smaller than we thought does not mean we shouldn’t think about it. I’m going to tell you why.

If you don’t know what pridefall is/was, it is a small group on 4chan who want to go to Proud people’s social media posts and do/say bad shit to them. At first, everyone assumed it was a massive group that everyone had to worry about, but it is slowly being revealed to supposedly be just a few people. Of course, everyone had already panicked and spread the word about it before fully looking into it, including myself, but you know what? That’s okay.

Some people now are saying that people are stupid for believing pridefall might be a problem, and to those people: Fuck you.

If you think someone is stupid for believing they might be outed to people: Fuck you. If you think someone is stupid for believing they were about to get heavily made fun of and threatened: Fuck you. If you think someone is stupid for believing they might get doxxed, and therefore beaten, r*ped, and/or m*dered: Fuck you.

Here’s why I’m saying fuck you and here’s why we still have to worry, even if “pridefall” isn’t a huge group of people:

NO ONE SHOULD HAVE TO THINK THEY ARE ABOUT TO BE OUTED WITHOUT THEIR CONSENT. NO ONE SHOULD HAVE TO THINK THEY ARE ABOUT TO BE THREATENED. NO ONE SHOULD HAVE TO THINK THEIR LIFE IS ABOUT TO BE IN DANGER.

EVEN IF PRIDEFALL ISN’T REAL, THE FACT THAT IT COULD HAVE BEEN IS STILL A PROBLEM.

Some people have recognized this. Some people have not.

If you are in the Community (any community, including being a race other than white) this should worry you. Because it’s already fucking happened. Every damn day people like us are taken down for no reason (Tony McDade, George Floyd), so something like pridefall, even if it is small or fake, is still a threat to us. THREATS WITH NO ACTION FOLLOWING THEM ARE STILL THREATS.

And here’s the thing: I’ve seen plenty of proof to say that pridefall is “only a small group of people”, but nothing saying it isn’t a thing at all. That means there potentially is still an organized group out there that are planning on doing hurtful things to people! And to some of those people who are threatened, a small group of people will be enough.

A small group of people, even one person, could be enough to destroy someone. To k*ll someone. To make someone k*ll themselves.

And some of you people are calling that person stupid for worrying.

We should not be happy that the amount of pridefall people is smaller than we thought. We should not be happy about it until we are sure the number is zero. Because even if one of us passes on because of something like this, it should be a tragedy. It is a tragedy. It’s not okay.

But the number will never be zero, will it? Because just because the “pridefall” group is longer doesn’t mean there’s no people out there who are still horrible to us. THERE ARE STILL MILLIONS OF PEOPLE OUT THERE, OUTING US, DOXXING US, BULLYING AND HARASSING US, K*LLING US. WHETHER OR NOT THEY HAVE A GROUP ON 4CHAN SHOULDN’T FUCKING MATTER. Did you all forget that this was happening? That it’s been happening for a hundred years and will happen for a thousand more unless we do something about it?

And it’s happening in our own community! Proud people discriminating on race. Proud people acting like certain sexualities and gender orientations don’t or shouldn’t exist. The people who do that shouldn’t be proud. They’re nearly as bad as the people we’ve been trying to fight.

My point is that some of you are acting like we shouldn’t be worrying, when we really should be. People are still going to be absolutely awful during every Pride month we have, regardless of if they are part of an organized group.

Now, I’m not saying we panic. I don’t want people staying off the internet for the entirety of Pride month, missing out on loads of support, just because they are scared. Not at all. Just that we be careful. Always. Because someone, someday, might come for you, and you need to be prepared.

Below are some things I suggest you do if you are worried about or are getting harassed online for being Proud. These are merely suggestions and are not perfect so please don’t sue me.

How to avoid it:

Honestly, there’s no way to completely avoid it. If you are extremely worried, though, and have a lot to lose (maybe you aren’t out irl, yet), then I suggest quietly taking down any blatantly prideful things from your social media. I despise telling people to do that, but I honestly don’t know how much of a problem that could cause some people, so that’s my suggestion.

What you definitely need to do is REMOVE ANY AND ALL PERSONAL INFO FROM SOCIAL MEDIA except maybe one of your names. This is more a general internet safety thing.

What to do if it happens to you:

The best thing you can do would be to ignore/delete/block/flag/report any negative things you see, without saying a word.

THEY WANT A SAD, SCARED, OR AGGRESSIVE RESPONSE; DO NOT GIVE THAT TO THEM. I REPEAT: DO NOT GIVE THEM A SAD, SCARED, OR AGGRESSIVE RESPONSE. IF THEY SEE THAT YOU ARE NOT GOING TO GIVE THEM THE RESPONSE THEY WANT, THEY WILL LIKELY LEAVE YOU ALONE.

Even if you’re sad/scared/angry about what they said, do not respond that way. That will just make them do more.

If you do feel the need to yell at them, a good thing to do is pretend they are in your room with you and argue with them there. Get your anger out somewhere else so you don’t give them the response they want.

There are good ways to respond, and I will list them below the cut, but it’s better to not respond at all.

Talk to a therapist if you have one handy.

If they say they have any of your personal info, report it. If you feel threatened enough by it, or especially if you think they found your house or if they actually contact your phone number/email address, REPORT IT TO THE POLICE. I know cops are kind of scary right now, but someone threatening you in this way is unbelievably dangerous.

I ASK THAT PEOPLE PLEASE SPREAD THIS POST AROUND TO HELP ALLEVIATE ANY MISINFORMATION OR RUDENESS TOWARDS EACH OTHER BECAUSE OF THIS WHOLE PRIDEFALL SITUATION. THE WORLD IS A SCARY PLACE RIGHT NOW. LET’S DO OUR JOB AND TRY TO MAKE IT A LITTLE BETTER.

How to respond in a good way:

You could CALMLY tell them you have/will report them to either the social media itself or the police. Many of these people are actually extreme cowards and will back off after you say this one or two times.

If you’re like me and think getting hate is a little funny, you could give a quick response like “lol” or “not today thanks” and then not responding anymore. Like I said earlier, if they see that you are not going to give the reaction you want, they are likely to go away. But the key is to not be aggressive while doing this.

Turn your response into something nice and helpful! Say something like “you saying that makes me think you may have had a troubled life and you are therefore lashing out. Here are some great places to find therapy for anyone who needs it!” and then link to some therapy sites. If they tell you to k*ll yourself, say something like “I don’t think anyone should do that. If anyone is thinking about that, here are some numbers you can call to get help” and then list some hotline numbers. Or you could find a really good website or something that explains why Pride is good, needed, and helpful for people. Maybe the person being rude doesn’t even understand what they’re so against.

If someone says something religious that is also rude, remind them of some things they may have forgotten from the Bible. The 6th commandment: do not murder. The 9th commandment: do not tell lies about others. Matthew 7:1-5: do not judge others. Matthew 7:12: treat others how you want to be treated. Mark 12:31: love your neighbor. (Also, you “going to hell” has nothing to do with them, so they have no real reason to use that against you.) DO NOT BASH ON THEM JUST BECAUSE THEY FOLLOW A RELIGION. NOT ALL RELIGIOUS PEOPLE ARE BAD AND NO RELIGION IS INHERENTLY BAD. SOMEONE BEING AN ASSHOLE IS SAYING SOMETHING ABOUT THEMSELVES, NOT THE RELIGION THEY ARE ABUSING.

#pride #pride month #pridefall #gay #lesbian #bi #pan #trans #nonbinary #advice #politics #tony mcdade #gay rights #gay pride #george floyd #feminism #black pride #proud #tw: discrimination

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kiruuuuu · 5 years

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Bandit/Jäger oneshot in which they’re on holiday, and maybe, just maybe, Bandit is up to something. Includes Sledge/Maestro, Smoke/Mute, Blitz/Rook and my recruits!! (Rating T/M, chaos, shenanigans + fluff, ~9.3k words) - written for @grasshopper643! This was an absolute blast, thank you so so much for commissioning me, and also for including the recruits 💖💖

Bandit awakens to birdsong, crickets chirping up a storm, bright sunlight falling into the comfy room smelling of old wood, and another body draped over his. Mind blissfully blank, he takes advantage of the marvellous situation he finds himself in: a deep breath fills his lungs with warm, fragrant summer air, and when he tilts his head to feel the soothing rays on his cheeks, he just happens to snuggle closer to the man atop him. Hands wander over exposed skin, travel down the dip of the lower waist, climb the gentle rise a bit further down, fingertips digging into inviting flesh.

Jäger stirs, not much, just enough so Bandit knows he’s awake, and wraps even tighter around him with a contented sigh. Normally, an embrace this snug would feel suffocating, and normally, the start of a new day would be met with unwilling groans and mutual shoving, but they’re on holiday. Bandit’s mind is at peace here, aided by the floral scent of all the flowers thriving not only outside the small house but scattered inside, too, inhabiting vases everywhere and mixing with the building’s own organic smell. Jäger’s personal one is merely the cherry on top.

Lazily, Bandit mouths at his lover’s shoulder while continuing the really quite lovely groping, massaging plump cheeks in preparation of early morning sex, something for which they rarely have the time. But they’re on holiday. They can do what they want. If he was any more awake, he might endeavour to take Jäger apart with his tongue until his moans turn into these hoarse pleas which never fail to drive Bandit insane, yet he’s afraid they’ll have to make do with languid humping amid deep kisses – travelling to their destination yesterday was surprisingly exhausting and they needed the sleep.

Nibbling at Jäger’s nape of the neck earns him his first moan for the day, so he uses more teeth, continues down that vein and grins to himself when Jäger stretches into his ministrations, sees a shadow move by the window and looks up, over Jäger’s shoulder, to -

- to be faced with five pairs of eyes. Very wide, and very curious.

His gaze must’ve turned murderous as all five idiots drop out of view immediately and, from the quiet sounds of it, scramble to get away. Vague regret befalls Bandit not for the first time: this half-baked plan might come to bite him in the arse eventually.

Oblivious to this distraction, Jäger curls into him and captures his lips in a sloppy kiss, and just for a moment, Bandit considers not getting up at all. Give ‘em a show, who cares – part of him wants to show off his boyfriend with his long limbs, the adorable little smiles, confident movements so unusual for him. And Jesus fucking Christ, not even twenty-four hours in Italy, and he’s already let its sappy atmosphere seep into his thoughts.

“Off”, he orders and slaps Jäger’s backside hard enough to leave a bright red mark. With a dissatisfied grumble, Jäger obliges and rolls off him, but not without reaching between Bandit’s legs and hell, he really doesn’t make anything easy, does he? There’s a brief scuffle accompanied by sleepy giggling on Jäger’s part and vanishing resistance on Bandit’s, and when he ends up pinning the other man down by the wrists, he still hasn’t won. Because Jäger beams up at him so unguardedly that it feels like a stab to the heart. He’s just, he’s just so -

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots movement once more and that’s it.

“I’ll be right back”, he promises and, despite being incredibly pissed, briefly sucks on Jäger’s neck for good measure just so his smile doesn’t fade before untangling their limbs and getting up. On the way out, he pulls on a t-shirt and underwear since he doesn’t feel like digging through their luggage for his sweatpants, takes one set of keys and leaves the house to face his delegation of idiots.

The five recruits have piled up outside the door, the majority visibly uncomfortable.

“Sorry for interrupting, chief”, the Irish lad, Shay, brightly addresses him and gets shushed by the others immediately before continuing much more quietly: “We just wanted to report back.”

“Did anything happen?”, Bandit asks and looks to the only competent one of the bunch, the Russian lurking in the back, always seeming uninterested yet no doubt watching like a hawk out of the corner of his eyes. Bandit probably likes Ivan Ivanovic the most as he has him largely figured out – he’s familiar with the cool façade of nonchalance hiding a sharp mind, while he never has any clue what’s going on in Shay’s, Jojo’s or Gian’s heads. Nor is he particularly curious. And Valenti reminds him too much of Blitz sometimes: an overachiever, someone who fancies himself a leader.

“They had romantic breakfast, so Gian called cops on them”, Ivan Ivanovic replies levelly.

Bandit waits a second to see if they’re joking, but Shay merely nods encouragingly and since he can’t lie for shit, they must be serious. He massages his temples and, to buy time in order to process this revelation, barks at Valenti and Jojo: “If either of you glances at my cock one more time, I’m going to shove it up your ass.”

Both gazes snap up in instant terror and both faces flush a satisfying crimson. Well. He could’ve phrased this better.

“To be quite frank, we were in a state of non-negligible panic”, Gian points out calmly. “An interruption seemed the necessary course of action, yet revealing our presence unwise, so I acted swiftly.”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal anyway”, Jojo cuts in, sensing Bandit’s disbelief, “they turned out to know some of Maestro’s relatives, we think, so they had a pleasant chat and left and were none the wiser.”

“So let me get this straight – you made a false emergency call and are patting yourselves on the back now?”

Valenti opens his mouth to protest yet realises much too late that this is exactly what happened. His sheepish expression soothes some of Bandit’s anger, though it does nothing to improve the situation. “You did say we could use whatever means necessary”, Shay chimes in good-naturedly and Bandit belatedly understands how in the world these five usually land in these kinds of situations.

“Not only did you fucking violate the law, but you also ogled my boyfriend in order to tell me that ultimately nothing happened?”

They exchange uncertain glances until Valenti of all people attempts to appease him: “Well, we figured -”

“Fuck off. Don’t talk to me again unless it’s urgent, and if you miss me so much that you can’t bear living without me yelling at you, text me. Got it?” His razor sharp tone has them all nod and flee into different directions, leaving him to consider just aborting the entire mission.

But no. He has to get revenge.

The infuriating incompetence at least does have a positive side effect – he’s not only awake but also riled up enough to tongue punch Jäger into never-never land, and when he returns to a long body prettily stretched out on the bed, one hand wrapped around a very interested member, he only needs to grit out a turn around to spark a smile full of anticipation.

He still closes the curtains for good measure.

When it comes down to it, it’s Jäger’s fault. He fed Bandit genuine laughs, secretive grins and all the attention he could ever ask for whenever he let the other German in on a joke, and over time Bandit got used to it: shenanigans mean admiration, a few stolen kisses here and there, a re-telling both excited and exaggerated, and even pride. Jäger used to be proud of his innovations, all the creative ways in which he terrorised those around him. Therefore, when Bandit changes all of Blitz’ personalised ring tones to – as he finds – fitting alternatives and merely garners a crushing, accusing look together with a devastating sigh, his world view crumbles.

Admittedly, it did take Blitz an entire weekend to set up the system Bandit single-handed destroyed during two afternoons. Admittedly, most of the song choices were in poor taste and some of them genuinely offensive, but that doesn’t make them any less funny, does it? And admittedly, maybe, just maybe choosing Weird Al’s ‘Fat’ for Rook when the Frenchie only recently voiced wanting to lose a few pounds was a tad misguided. Especially when Blitz hadn’t noticed Bandit’s stunt and asked Rook to call him to locate his misplaced phone.

Well. Alright. Maybe he did deserve the tired look Jäger gave him.

But after that? No matter how hard he tried to impress him, how much of a menace he was, he never managed to regain Jäger’s favour. Instead, he got a talk.

Please stop, was the baseline. Don’t play pranks anymore. Focus on other, more constructive activities. Stop wasting all these resources on messing with people.

And so Bandit stopped. Not because Jäger told him, obviously, but without his partner in crime it just wasn’t fun anymore. It took most of his self-discipline not to tamper with Rook’s new shoes – heelies, of all things, it would’ve been child’s play to make him eat shit – and leave Mute’s new jammer prototype alone, despite him forgetting to lock it away one day. God, it could’ve been glorious. Bandit could’ve strapped it onto Diana and declare her a denial of service dog.

But no, he didn’t even want to mess around anymore anyway, and if he stretched towards Jäger’s resulting affection like a sunflower, it merely was a pleasant side effect. If only the others didn’t notice.

Smoke was the first. Out of boredom, he taped the kitchen door shut and texted Bandit about Monika having baked fresh brownies, then recorded him enthusiastically giving himself a black eye, and Bandit couldn’t retaliate. Because that night was going to be the fourth night in a row on which Jäger would pet his hair until he’s asleep which he’d never really done before, and Bandit wasn’t going to let anything get in the way.

Then Mute hacked his phone and literally every link led to fucking Rick Astley and every time Bandit typed ‘I’, his keyboard replaced it with the entire lyrics to the song, and Bandit still couldn’t take revenge because Jäger was in the middle of watching a series together with Bandit despite not being super into it, and he didn’t want to finish it alone.

And when a handful of others got wind of being immune to his wrath, it turned into hell. People openly approached him to criticise the way he led his team during a training exercise, and sure, he did a shite job due to acute laziness, but who does that? Others let him know they appreciated all the extra care he put in during their most recent mission and fucking Christ, if they don’t even stop shy of compliments, he might as well quit because what’s even left of him in that case? Horrifying.

Obviously, he keeps track of every misdeed. Just in case Jäger gets deployed for a few weeks, allowing him to punish all the wrongdoers. Even if he has the feeling he’d be too distracted to really make it count in that case.

But Sledge puts the cherry on top. One day, he pulls Bandit aside and says a few things which are inexcusable. Unforgivable. And thus, Bandit hatches a plan.

They have breakfast in a small café together with Smoke and Mute, both of whom immediately expressed the wish to tag along when Bandit mentioned his plans to go on a short holiday to the beautiful Western coast of Italy and who is he to turn down their company (especially when they potentially distract Jäger, allowing him some breathing room)? The Brits share the vacation house next to theirs and Bandit just hopes they didn’t notice the early morning commotion, but then again it seems as if Mute ensured they haven’t noticed much since their arrival.

“I’m going to eat fucking ten of these overpriced cardboard pastries”, he announces mid-chew and chases down the second half of Smoke’s cornetto with a sip of Jäger’s coffee before anyone can stop him.

“Babe”, Smoke tries to gently reason with him and earns a wild glare.

“Don’t ‘babe’ me, not my fault they fold up the footpaths at night, I’m starving.” He gestures to the vaguely horrified-looking waiter to bring more sustenance and finishes Jäger’s latte in one go.

“If I’d stayed up all bloody night high on energy drinks I’d be starving too”, Smoke mutters with a helpless shake of the head which alright, that explains both Mute’s manic restlessness as well as the bags under Smoke’s eyes.

“Are you sure you should be getting more caffeine?”, Bandit wants to know dubiously and realises too late that the young lad’s gaze is worryingly unfocused.

“Huh?”, he makes and it’s obvious he hasn’t been following anyone’s conversation but his own so far. “Bloody hell, if this horrifically sweet stuff is all they eat for breakfast it’s no wonder Seamus is getting fat. I’ll ask whether they have bacon. They must have bacon. Right? Everyone has bacon. Or sausages at least. Fucking cold cuts, anything. Maybe there’s a salt shortage going on in Italy, though the people definitely had more than enough. Bacon.”

The other three stare after him as he makes a beeline towards the poor guy stuck serving them. “I would be salty, too, if some asshole insisted on New York style pizza being better than the original”, Smoke points out drily.

“Is he gonna be alright?” So far, Bandit has witnessed Mute on caffeine overdose (result: the attention span of a squirrel), sleep deprivation (result: endless ideas better suited for a mad scientist, particularly terrifying coming from someone who can actually implement most of them), and excessive hunger (result: an exceedingly sharp tongue plus an infinite supply of irritation), yet never all three together. He has to admit, it’s a sight to behold.

Smoke shrugs. “The crash is gonna be hilarious, no lie. He did tell me he hates energy drinks but didn’t specify why. Had I known, I would’ve put up more of a fight.”

Just as Mute returns triumphantly with an entire plate of fried eggs probably meant for all of them despite him making no move to share, Bandit notices that Jäger has been unusually quiet ever since they’ve left the house – and it’s even odder that he’s just watching Bandit with a small smile. Does he… does he know about his plan? Is he suspecting something? “What?”, Bandit asks defensively.

The smile widens. Uh oh. “Nothing. I’m just happy we’re here.”

Abort mission, abort mission. “Yeah, me too, and isn’t it a shame Elias and Julien have to rot at base without -”

“I was really surprised when you made the suggestion to come here, I would never have expected anything like this from you.”

“Well, we’re here now and we should make a list of everything that’s bad so we can annoy Maestro when we’re -”

“But it’s wonderful. The house is pretty, the beach is gorgeous and the town picturesque. It’s really romantic and I like it here. A lot.”

Bandit just laughs nervously. His face is on fire and he has to get out of this as soon as possible. Maybe he should split up the dumb recruits and have two of them watch him so he can give them a secret signal whenever a situation like this happens because holy shit, this is -

“Even so, you could’ve chosen any place and it would’ve been great, just because you’d be there. Thank you, Dom.”

He’s scarlet. Across the table, Mute is still stuck in the motion of salting his eggs while gaping at the two of them, unaware he’s created a veritable heap crowning one of the yolks by now. Jäger continues to smile at him and there’s no way he can bear another second of this. “I have to take a piss”, he declares loudly before fleeing to the men’s where he sits down on the lid, trying to will away the blood from his cheeks. Maybe coming here was a mistake after all.

To distract himself from the odd sensation in his stomach, he checks his phone and finds a message from Valenti: two lovebirds heading to the water, unsure how to interfere.

Alright. At least he can do something on this front. Once he’s cooled off a little, he returns to Mute nearly dunking half an egg into Smoke’s glass and Jäger observing them with a shit eating grin. “We should go to the beach afterwards”, he suggests and tries his best not to react to the hand straying to his thigh as soon as he’s sat down.

It wasn’t pickpocketing per se. Not really, because the odd object was half sticking out of Sledge’s trousers anyway, screaming to be taken. A rectangular box, while not too bulky, definitely not made for being carried around in front pockets for an entire day, and so Bandit merely… relieved the Scotsman of this burden. After all, he might’ve lost it otherwise and who knows how valuable it is. Better keep it safe for him than fill him with panic when he can’t find it and has to retrace his steps.

Bandit can’t deny it came at a pretty fucking opportune time seeing as he’d been obsessing about vengeance for Sledge’s uncalled-for insults, and so he nicked the velvety item without thinking and, as he hopes, without anyone noticing. For once, having to sit next to Sledge during meetings paid off. He’s patient for the rest of the day, carries his prize around without taking a proper look in case anyone catches him, yet when he opens it at home, he blanches.

Oh the possibilities.

For a few seconds, his mind is filled with delicious scenarios, one better than the other: replace the ring with one from a bubblegum dispenser. Replace it with bees. Add a noisemaker which produces a fart sound whenever the box is opened. Superglue it so it can’t be taken out. The more he thinks, the more absurd his ideas become: have it reduced in size. Engrave it with a random name. Coat it in a substance which dyes skin for weeks.

It’s a really tasteful ring. If he’s honest, it’s gorgeous. At the same time, he knows Maestro will flip the fuck out no matter what it looks like because it’s the act that counts, the intention.

Not only that, but Sledge is certain to inspect the entire box with extreme prejudice once he gets it back, and if he identifies any tampering, Bandit is dead meat.

“You dropped this yesterday”, he says the day after and hands the box back.

Sledge, as expected, examines it thoroughly before nodding – he doesn’t even hide it and alright, that’s fair. Given Bandit’s history of messing with him, he wouldn’t even bat an eye at Sledge sending it in to some lab. “Thanks”, he replies, and Bandit isn’t even offended at the astonishment in his voice. “What do you think? Do you like it?”

Relationships really do turn most people into utter fools if Sledge deems it a fruitful idea to ask Bandit for his opinion. Fortunately, he’s very different. He’d never change himself just because of Jäger or fall into the trap of hopeless, helpless infatuation. He’s always in control. “It’d be way too small for me”, he shoots back, unimpressed, “but hey, you measured it, so I’m sure Maestro will love his new cock ring.”

The genuine laugh he gets in return tells him that Sledge really has it bad. “I’m planning to propose to him on our trip to Italy next month”, he foolishly divulges and Bandit’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Oh?”, he prompts politely. “Tell me more.”

If looks could kill, Bandit would’ve dropped dead the instant Sledge catches sight of him. He would’ve spontaneously combusted and his ashes been blown away by the wind, because the Scotsman must know instantly that he’s up to something, judging by how the sun itself darkens along with his mood. He’s stretched out on a towel on the beautiful fine-grained white sand, shielded from the harsh sunlight by a large parasol and ready to wring Bandit’s neck.

“What? How?”, Mute is still going on, not having recovered from this remarkable coincidence. “It’s impossible that we end up in the same vacation spot by pure chance!”

“Yes”, Sledge grits out. “Impossible.”

“Adriano recommended this place to us”, Smoke jumps in and Bandit owes him so many drinks, “and I thought you were gonna visit his family?” Some of Sledge’s suspicion fades, even if Jäger throws Bandit a curious glance. He still needs to be careful, so he keeps quiet.

“This… isn’t a set-up? You’re not up to anything?”, Sledge wants to know accusingly and Bandit just snorts.

“Of course not, as if I didn’t have anything better to do in my free time. Are you getting paranoid?”

Sledge looks like he has a few choice words to say, but when Maestro joins them, his attention snaps to him like metal to a magnet – not like Bandit could blame him, not with the Italian’s tan skin glistening all over and his dangerously short swimming trunks clinging to his body. Bandit takes note of this: should he ever need to divert the Scot’s attention, he merely needs to dump some water over his boyfriend.

“Amici miei! What a wonderful surprise, how great to see you!”, Maestro greets them warmly and smooches their cheeks, in the process getting all of them wet, and then turns to where Mute is chasing seagulls while screeching along with them. “What, uh, what happened with my cucciolo?”

“He’ll tire himself out”, Smoke assures him with a sigh.

“How do you like it here? I will show you everything! Isn’t it such a fortunate coincidence, cioccolatino?”

“Marvellous”, says Sledge.

“We can spend all our time together and I will teach you the most important phrases!”

And while the Scotsman looks like he bit into a lemon, Mute rushes over to detail all the sand castles he’ll build.

No more than five minutes later, the youngest Brit is already conked out and snoring softly on the very towel Sledge had occupied previously, and when he seems to be wholly unperturbed by the others talking around him, they set up their own beach equipment and share their experiences and impressions of Maestro’s home country. He seems genuinely delighted over their presence, unlike Sledge, and generously shares anecdotes about this particular holiday favourite. Normally, Bandit would rather chew off his own leg than allow the Italian to chew off his ear, but Jäger’s holding his hand and so he really has no other choice. Besides, his lover seems stoked over the opportunity to ask about everything local and his enthusiasm is contagious. At least a little bit.

Eventually, the group breaks up a little, with Sledge announcing his intention to go for a walk along the beach with Maestro, and Jäger urging Bandit to go swimming as well. He shoots Ivan Ivanovic a message about keeping an eye on the unlikely couple and interrupting them should the atmosphere become a little too amorous, and notices a text from Rook: the Frenchman seems to be making the most out of being stuck in Hereford and challenges the holidaymakers in a group chat to snap the best ‘out of context’ selfie they can. Attached is a peace-signing Rook in the foreground, with a half-naked Buck getting his chest hair shaved behind him, looking not at all amused with a doubled-over Valkyrie.

Half a minute later, Blitz contributes by sending a photo of him giving a cheery thumbs-up, while Rook in the background is apparently getting yelled at by a half-shaven Buck. Days since the last superglue accident: 0, Blitz adds.

Bandit, despite being highly entertained, silently vows to upstage him, upstage all of them really, even if he hasn’t figured out how yet.

“At least he’s prepared if he wants to compete with Meghan in the pool again”, Jäger comments good-naturedly, following the chat on his own phone. He turns around to photograph himself grinning while also capturing Smoke drawing a dick on his boyfriend’s unconscious body with sun cream. “You guys are cute”, he adds inexplicably.

Smoke takes one look at the drooling man haphazardly flung onto the fabric, shirt riding up enough to expose a canvas for him to abuse, and nods. “I’ve never loved another human being more”, he responds gravely and adds a few cum spurts shooting from the tip.

“Give the balls some hair too”, Jäger suggests sweetly before dragging Bandit off towards the splashing waves.

The hot sand burns their soles, so they awkwardly skip towards the sea, tackling each other once they’re largely submerged and nearly lose the beach ball they brought. Bandit supposes it’s a bad time to mention how he never really liked going on holiday, figures it’s usually more effort than it’s worth, and hanging around at the beach all day not having anything to do seems like a massive waste of time – but since his presence here has purpose and the cogs in his head never stop turning, it’s actually not that bad. He keeps one eye on the couple strolling along the beautiful shore, almost far enough away that he can’t see them anymore, and focuses the rest of his attention on Jäger.

Because dear God.

He belatedly understands Sledge’s distraction upon seeing his boyfriend emerge from the sea, cheeks rosy, rivulets running down exposed skin, playful smile plastered on his face and -

- and there’s an entire pack of dogs swarming Sledge and Maestro in the distance.

Bandit stares because what else is there to do? It looks as if all stray dogs from the region had assembled to circle the two, jump up and apparently try to slobber all over them, and while his brain is still trying to process the view, he gets thwacked in the head full force by the beach ball, losing his footing in the process.

He’s still coughing up salt water as Jäger drags him towards the sand, unsuccessfully trying to stifle his laughter and apologising simultaneously. He should be more upset, seeing as not only did the recruits choose one of the flashiest ways of bothering Sledge again, but also he’s got a headache now and his lungs are burning, he will probably end up with a nasty sunburn on his scalp as he refuses to wear any kind of hat, keeps stepping on sharp seashells, hates the way sun lotion feels on his skin and despises the taste of tangy water – but when they trip and fall, and his field of vision is filled with nothing but Jäger, and his lover smiles and quietly asks whether he needs CPR, and when there’s warm lips on his own cool ones, none of it really seems that dramatic.

Mute is awake and has aged by ten years as they return, but at least he seems to have mellowed out considerably – even though he doesn’t look at all amused with the jellyfish Smoke keeps lining up next to their shadowy spot. “Can someone tell him that sleeping for sixteen hours is a worthwhile activity?”, Mute sighs, massaging his temples.

“If I hadn’t sent you out to get some food, you wouldn’t have let me sleep last night either, babe. Stay up till evening and reset your sleep schedule.”

“I’ll reset your fucking schedule if you don’t stop with these stupid gelatine blobs. We’re not taking one home and that’s final.”

“Glad to see everyone else also enjoying their holiday!”, Jäger pipes up cheerfully while towelling himself dry. “But what happened to you two?”

Sledge, sipping what looks suspiciously like coffee instead of his usual tea, glances down at his scratched up legs, at Maestro’s paw print covered loafers as well as the general dirt smeared over them, and replies flatly: “We’ve gone to the dogs.”

“This has been a really odd trip so far”, Maestro adds, “the first evening we couldn’t turn off any of the lights in our house though they switched off by themselves some time during the night. Just this morning, we were approached by policemen about allegedly causing a disturbance even though I’m fairly sure we had the curtains closed the entire time -”

“He’s referring to the fact that he likes to sleep naked”, Sledge hastens to explain due to several pairs of eyebrows shooting up at this comment.

“Then someone threw a few Playboy magazines through the letter slot, and just now we became an irresistible attraction for the local wildlife.”

“It’s almost as if someone was up to something.”

And while the others continue discussing these odd and unfortunate turns of events, Bandit pretends he missed Sledge’s meaningful comment.

“I think I’ve got sunburn on my hands”, Smoke mutters to himself as Jäger and Maestro encourage each other to come up with the most complicated conspiracy theory which would explain all that’s happened to the happy couple, with Sledge merely shaking his head. “They’re pretty red.”

“Why don’t you tell me about your collection”, Mute prompts tiredly and indicates the shrivelling, dead creatures by Smoke’s feet.

“You see, most of them are just see-through slime, but this one is real pretty. Looks like an omelette almost, don’t you think, babe?”

Mute blinks slowly. “Go and buy some vinegar with Adriano, will you? Doesn’t matter what kind, and don’t ask.”

The suggestion makes most of them spring into action as Jäger was considering heading out for lunch anyway, yet he lingers when everyone but Mute and Bandit trail after a happily bubbling Maestro. “Don’t you think it’s weird that all these things happen to the two of them?”, he asks and it takes all of Bandit’s willpower and focus not to smirk. “You’re not up to anything, are you?”

“Of course not”, he promises as sincerely as decades of professional lying allow it, and sends his boyfriend off with a kiss to his nose.

Once he’s out of earshot, Mute mumbles: “You’re absolutely up to something, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am”, he scoffs and blames it on the energy drinks that it took Mute this long to realise.

“It’s a fucking fried egg jellyfish”, Mute explains without being prompted. “Nothing serious, but the bloody idiot is probably gonna feel it for a few days.”

“Why didn’t you tell him?”

“And have him start early with asking me to piss on his hands? No thank you.”

~*~

“To be fair”, Valenti, the little fucker, tries to justify himself, “you didn’t say not to use perfume bombs.”

The effects of just 24 hours of Italian air are noticeable on the five recruits: Valenti has gotten even cockier than usual and revels in the warm weather, Shay has turned a lovely shade of lobster red, Jojo has bought a new wardrobe and, remarkably, looks just as fashionable as Maestro, Gian is distracted by everything and anything around him, visibly enjoying himself and writing novellas into his notebook, and even Ivan Ivanovic is smiling. If only Bandit himself felt the soothing touch of the country, he probably wouldn’t be this close to shaking some sense into the confident tiny Frenchman.

“You’re extremely lucky Seamus isn’t into crossdressing or any of that shite, because his soon-to-be fiancé smelling of several whorehouses at once caters pretty well to these fantasies and would’ve set him off, and then you’d have to keep two randy lovebirds apart and not just two sappy ones.”

“How do you know that’d happen?”, Jojo chimes up curiously.

The five of them are eating ice cream while sitting on the stone balustrade separating the promenade from the beach below and Bandit develops the sudden urge to toss the other German off it. “Look”, he starts and immediately gets interrupted by Shay smushing his face into his chocolate ice and Gian starting to giggle uncontrollably.

“The hell are you doing?”, Valenti wants to know, aghast, and rolls his eyes at Ivan’s reply: “I told him milk good for sunburn. Takes off heat.”

“I do feel much better already!”

Jojo grabs the cone out of the Irishman’s hand and sticks it against Shay’s forehead. “Shame you’re not called Shaun because now you’d be a uni-shaun.” Without any hesitation, he leans in and starts licking the ice cream off of Shay’s cheek, causing him to squeal and wield his damaged cone like a weapon and mere seconds later, they’re having a lightsaber fight in the middle of the fortunately empty street, with Valenti acting as referee.

Bandit’s earlier headache is starting to come back, and this time he’s sure it’s not related to heat stroke.

“Like children”, Ivan comments. He’s still got that smile on his face.

“Regardless of how we might achieve the goal you set for us”, Gian addresses Bandit, “our reward remains unclaimed. You’re confident you can procure it?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you what you want, provided you guys keep your end of the -” And then he’s cut off by a screaming Shay colliding with him full force, sending him stumbling and dangerously close to the low banister but not yet over – though when he tries to turn and yell, Jojo joins the dogpile and sends them flying.

Jäger looks fucking gorgeous when Bandit returns to their cottage, shorts and boots really hitting the spot and if he complains about having forgotten lighter shoes one more time, Bandit is going to show him just what he thinks of his outfit by having him keep it on as he blows both him and his mind. Thoughts like this one have become second nature and he’s still not entirely sure how.

“Don’t touch me, I need a shower”, he warns his lover before he can wrap around Bandit the way he usually does, no matter how long he’s been gone, “I’ve got sand everywhere, even up my arse crack.”

“What did you do?”

“Slipped and fell on the beach. And other people might’ve also slipped and fallen on me.”

“Odd. Seamus had ice cream tossed at him from inside a bush.”

“Huh. Did he find out by whom?”

“It was a thorn bush, so he stayed away from it.” Yikes. Bandit feels like his conscience shouldn’t be as clear as it is, but on the other hand he’s largely paying for their trip. So if he gets free entertainment out of it, he’s not going to complain. “Look, Elias and Julien sent another selfie.”

On screen, the happy couple is smooching in front of Echo sleeping on one of the workshop tables, with a variety of objects stacked on top of him in an impressive display of balancing skills. Next to him, Dokkaebi is showcasing a veritably demonic grin, much to Hibana’s concern. “Cute”, Bandit comments sarcastically yet it seems Jäger takes him at face value.

“Right? I still don’t understand why you kept gagging next to them when they were freshly together. They’re so good for each other.”

And he’s never understood how Jäger can support kitsch on four legs this openly. “This might come as a shock to you, but I’m not really the romantic type.”

The knowing smirk following his statement is what drives him away, ears burning, and it’s still adorning soft lips when Jäger joins him in the shower a few minutes later.

~*~

“Mutiny”, Bandit repeats after a grave-looking Jojo. “Are you taking the fucking piss?”

“We’ve spent almost three days of constant surveillance, spontaneous action, consistent communication as well as doing a remarkably good job, if I may say so”, Valenti jumps in, eager to support his mate, “and you’ve not met your end of the deal.”

They’re huddled behind the very stone balustrade which has painted Bandit’s back a hideous shade of yellowish-green due to an acute case of getting bodychecked over it, and he’s beginning to feel like a repeat performance is preferable over dealing with these numbskulls. “My end of the deal?”, he parrots in disbelief. “I’ve paid for your fucking vacation, you ungrateful little shits, and all you’ve done is ruin their holiday.”

“I wouldn’t go that far -”

“Well I fucking would. You nearly gave Seamus food poisoning, caused him to fall into the sea, harassed him with prank calls which weren’t even remotely funny -”

“Billy’s roadkill diner – you kill ‘em, we grill ‘em”, Shay interjects cheerily, earning a snort and an addition from Jojo: “You frag ‘em, we bag ‘em!”

“- and you even egged Maestro’s favourite shirt.”

“That was little funny”, Ivan Ivanovic butts in, and alright, the string of expletives exploding out of the hot-blooded Italian was admittedly hilarious, especially when even Sledge seemed genuinely scandalised over some of them.

Still, he’s understood by now that engaging any of the clowns leads to madness, so he simply keeps talking. “Besides, what the fuck do you want me to do about a Scot who flat out refuses to take off his shirt at the beach? I can hardly go and undress him, can I?”

“You could show creativity, like we have. Aren’t you supposed to be resourceful?”

If this had come from anyone but the Russian, Bandit might’ve slapped some sense into them, yet this gives him pause. “I mean – I tried, but he wouldn’t budge. Why is this so fucking important to you anyway, are you that bloody horny?”

Jojo looks ready to hold an entire speech as to why it’s crucial for mankind’s survival that they witness the buff Scotsman shed his shirt, but fortunately it’s Gian who speaks up instead: “I cannot help but feel your heart is not in this endeavour.” How fucking dare he. “You informed us of your wish to exert revenge, yet your glee has been muted, your undertakings half-hearted and your satisfaction with our actions astonishingly low.”

Bullshit. Bandit enjoyed watching the one guy suffer who usually throws wrenches into his plans, who reprimands him constantly and sabotages his pranks – it was extremely satisfying, he enjoyed it so much that he’d say it was the best part of his holiday so far.

…he would say that, wouldn’t he? And simultaneously know he’d be wrong.

Because his focus really wasn’t on Sledge, and with passed time it’s gotten harder and harder for Bandit to remind himself of why Sledge’s words stung so much. Why what he said sent Bandit into a white hot fit of rage.

Five pairs of eyes are staring at him expectantly. They might’ve gone about it arseways, but they did indeed accomplish what he asked of them, to the best of their capabilities. They even managed not to get caught, and while there’s no doubt someone is up to something, no one has been able to prove it was Bandit, even if Sledge, Smoke and Mute continuously side-eye him.

Maybe he should call the whole thing off after all and enjoy what’s left of his holiday.

“Give me a minute”, he asks and thankfully, all of them nod. When it comes down to it, they’ve proven reliable in the way a thunderstorm is – no way of telling when the next lightning strikes, but thunder always follows. Besides, now that they’ve overcome their terror of speaking with him, their natural banter reminds him of the familial atmosphere of his own team. Fuck. He’s starting not to mind them, even if they look like vaguely reverent meerkats staring up at him for any kind of signal as he paces back and forth next to them.

This is when he spots Sledge and Maestro, a short distance away from where Jäger, Smoke and Mute are building a proper sand fort: they’re holding hands, facing each other and seem to be deeply moved and fucking shite, it’s the perfect atmosphere with the gentle sea retreating in low tide behind them, the sun sliding lower and lower and flooding the beach in a warm, orange light. Sledge is gonna go down on one knee any second now and Bandit has no way of stopping them.

Shay must’ve noticed the horror in his expression as he peeks over the banister and immediately rips open Valenti’s backpack. “Code red”, he announces more professionally than he’s ever sounded in his entire career, stands up and -

And lobs a water balloon at the two lovebirds. A water balloon which bursts upon impact with Sledge’s broad chest, no doubt interrupting their little moment. A water balloon filled with neon yellow paint.

There’s a second of perfect silence.

Then Shay throws a second one.

In an impressive demonstration of his skills, Sledge catches it without it detonating in his hands and hurls it back full force, a detail the other four recruits quite obviously missed as they rise to get a better look, and when the second paint bomb explodes on the balustrade in front of them, literally all five end up coated in hot pink, with Bandit only suffering a light dose.

Well. That could’ve gone better. For another brief moment, the spattered recruits, Bandit, and the eye-wateringly yellow couple stare at each other.

“You fuckers”, Maestro then screams, and Sledge yells: “Dom, you little prick!” And the recruits and Bandit exchange a single glance before individually coming to the conclusion that an escape is in order. Especially when the two star-crossed lovers start running.

Shay shrieks like a little girl, Ivan takes a brief moment to wipe some of the paint off Valenti’s eyes with the inside of his shirt, and Jojo is already halfway down the street. Bandit is in great company. Gian nearly gets run over by a scooter and apologises in fluid Italian, Bandit slides over the hood of an expensive-looking car and leaves behind frankly hideous pink streaks, and Ivan seems to consider scaling the nearest building while Valenti is still coughing up paint. Shay trips and gets dragged along by Gian, and together the six of them scramble their way through the picturesque seaside town, garnering more than a few odd looks from the locals.

“Whose fucking idea was this?!”, Bandit wants to know and struggles to make it up the steep stairs to another busy road, though he does appreciate Ivan lending him a hand eventually.

“I didn’t think he’d catch it”, Valenti admits between breaths.

“He played fucking rugby, you moron!”

“May I suggest postponing this argument and instead focusing on the task at hand?”

“This colour actually suits you, Jojo, did you know?”

“Let us make left here, come on.”

“Jesus fucking Christ”, Bandit mumbles to himself though he can’t curse away the rush of endorphins in his system – he’s started to become complacent, and though Jäger will no doubt be disappointed in him, he’s missed this, the chaos, the knowledge of doing something forbidden, the guilty laughter bursting out of them now and then as they weave their way through alleys and between cars. He wastes no thought on what’s going to happen once they’ve successfully evaded their pursuers, right now he’s preoccupied with feeling the wind in his hair, jumping obstacles, running with the pack, rushing around corners and -

And apparently colliding with what feels like a brick wall. Something that doesn’t look like one though. Because it’s neon yellow.

“I will fucking castrate you and shove your own balls so far up your ass you’ll be able to taste them”, Maestro growls while Sledge causes another pile-up next to him by letting the recruits bounce off him easily.

It seems like this is it.

“How on earth are you so fast?”, Shay wants to know with wide eyes as the five of them take turns shoving each other to the front to face the Scotsman glaring daggers.

“Shouldn’t have let the one guy among you with no sense of direction lead”, Sledge explains. All eyes slide over to Jojo whose face starts matching the paint he’s covered in.

“Who’s the ringleader here?”, Maestro demands to know. All eyes slide back over to Bandit.

“It was a group effort?”, he tries.

“Will you let us live if we tell you?” Hell, he really should’ve gotten rid of this French gremlin sooner. A single nod from Sledge, and now five fingers are pointing at Bandit.

“Look”, he begins and gets interrupted by being slammed into the wall next to him, and it’ll be a miracle if the furious Italian lets him get away with mere bruises, though fortunately a hand on Maestro’s arm stops him.

“Adrianito. Let him go.” Sledge’s intervention is welcome yet Bandit’s relief short-lived when the two of them part to reveal the rest of their group: Mute and Smoke who are only missing popcorn, judging by the unadulterated amusement in their expressions – and Jäger.

A very unimpressed-looking Jäger. This is worse than a few bruises. He pushes to the front, brow raised and demeanour so calm it instils paralysing fear. For the first time ever since they came here, there’s not even a hint of a smile on his lips and it does unpleasant things to Bandit’s insides. He wasn’t meant to prank anyone, let alone follow Sledge and Maestro like this just to terrorise them. Whatever will come out of his lover’s mouth next is sure to be devastating.

“What were you doing?”, Jäger asks quietly. So far, so good. Around them, everyone seems to be holding their breath.

It’s the perfect opportunity. Seeing as Bandit won’t be able to interfere anymore after this, he could mention his plan off-handedly, complete his revenge by spoiling the surprise waiting in Sledge’s pocket. He can see it in Sledge’s eyes that he knows it too: a few words, and he’d be forced to show the ring, do it all on Bandit’s terms. He holds power over the Scot he never thought possible, and even if he doesn’t ruin his proposal right now, he could use it as an excellent source of blackmail later. The idea of Sledge having to do whatever he wants is more than enticing. “Annoying the hell out of him”, he replies, buying himself time. Sledge’s hazel eyes are boring into his.

Jäger just shakes his head a little. “And, what, were you planning on following them to his parent’s place too?”

Maestro senses his hesitation and though he hasn’t overcome his animosity, he doesn’t leave Bandit in the dark: “My mamma invited us for a family reunion. We’re leaving tomorrow morning and spending the rest of the week with my family.”

Oh. He didn’t know this, their plans must’ve changed since he talked to Sledge about their vacation. It’d be lovely. He pictures it, Sledge kneeling down, surrounded by Maestro’s relatives, all of them freaking out and cooing over them. It sounds heart-warming. And he could destroy it with a single sentence. If he doesn’t do it now, the two will be gone tomorrow and he’ll have missed his chance.

“Well”, he says. Jäger looks ready to cross his arms. “I hope you two have a great time.”

And Sledge gets it. His smile speaks volumes, he relaxes and even graces Bandit with a slight nod. Despite how much they clash the rest of the time, Bandit doesn’t want to do this to him, not like this. There are other methods he can employ without messing with Sledge’s love life and potentially ruin what could’ve been a wonderful memory.

Even so, he’s not out of the shite yet, there are still five recruits looking like they’re going to be gutted any second now, a seething Italian just waiting for his signal to rip them apart, and Jäger. So far, he’s not done one of his sighs. There is hope.

“Why did you do all this?”, he wants to know and Bandit realises something belatedly: namely just how truly fucked he is. Conveniently forgetting about this little detail, he pushed it to the back of his mind, merely holding on to his rage about Sledge’s words yet ignoring their content. His gaze snaps to Sledge and oh boy, how the tables have turned.

You’ve been behaving well recently, Sledge said to him that fateful day Bandit swore revenge at all costs. It’s Marius’ influence, isn’t it?

Bandit grumbled a little, waved him off, tried to change the topic but Sledge wasn’t having any of it: Have you told him you love him?

And fucking Christ, how presumptuous could any one person be? Not only wasn’t it his business, but also was he plain wrong. One fact Bandit had accepted long ago was that he cared about no one but himself. His life was littered with selfish decisions, no matter how much he tried to care, tried to hold on. Ultimately, the only one he ever protected was himself. He said something along those lines, unusually earnest with his nemesis, and felt more than just irritation rise in him when he received the response: Stop running from him and ask him to move in with you.

Preposterous. Frankly insulting. And Bandit silently vowed to have Sledge’s head for this.

“Oh well, who cares, just yell at me and let’s move on, alright?”, he hastens to change the topic and doesn’t miss Sledge’s grin amid everyone’s bewilderment.

Jäger doesn’t seem happy with this answer. “What do you mean? You can’t tell me there was no reason for you to pull this shite.”

“He pissed me off, I wanted revenge, here we are, now let’s stop dwelling on the past and -”

“What did you do?”, his boyfriend turns to the Scotsman in question, fuelling Bandit’s panic.

“Don’t ask him, he probably doesn’t even -”

“Be quiet. If you won’t give me an answer, Dom, let him.”

This is bad. Bandit’s and Sledge’s eyes meet and he’s well aware to be completely at his mercy – and he doesn’t harbour much hope, not after the past three days of constant torment, not after he very nearly spoiled their holiday. The recruits are holding their breath, neither of them fully aware of what’s going on but Bandit knows they treat the members of Rainbow like celebrities, so it must be exciting for them to witness drama like this up close. Smoke and Mute are following the conversation silently, gazes darting back and forth like in a tennis match, and Bandit wouldn’t be surprised if they’d placed bets on the outcome. Maestro has postponed his fury, though he’s clearly waiting for his time to lay into pretty much anyone involved.

Sledge seems to have made a decision and there’s no way in hell he’s not disclosing Bandit’s innermost thoughts to the world. He simply has to take this opportunity to humiliate him, uncover the secret he carries in his heart, waiting for the perfect moment to reveal it. He fixes Bandit with a level stare and says: “I insulted his bike.”

A beat.

Oh, thinks Bandit.

“You did what?!” And suddenly, Jäger’s composure has vanished. “How dare you! It’s a piece of art!”

Like a real trooper, Sledge keeps it up. “I called it a death trap waiting to happen and the decals juvenile.”

“Luce dei miei occhi, you can’t be serious!” Unbelievably, even Maestro looks offended. “It has fire, spirit, passion – that motorcycle has a soul, who are you to call it names!”

“I bet you’ve never even ridden it, it sounds like a large cat purring”, Smoke chimes in as well now, and all of a sudden, nearly everyone is directing their ire at Sledge who admittedly takes it like a champ. It’s a miracle. And Bandit instantly forgives him everything he’s ever done, from uncovering his candy related Ponzi scheme which not only involved Rainbow’s recruits but even spread to the SAS ones, to winning against him in hand to hand literally every time. He can’t believe it, merely gapes at the outrage directed at Sledge of all people and vows to try and never cross the Scot again.

Even so, there’s something he still has to do. “We need to talk”, he quietly informs the very upset Jäger and gently drags him a few steps away from the loudly arguing group, ignoring Mute’s encouraging about time! and Smoke’s meaningful wink. For some reason it seems that pretty much all people present know more about Bandit’s emotions than he does, and though he should find this fact concerning, his mind is currently trying to wrap around what he’s about to say. It’s been a while since this particular phrase has left his mouth, indubitably much too long. He doesn’t use it nearly enough and is painfully aware, so now’s his chance.

He takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

Jäger simply blinks at him. “What for?”

Now it’s Bandit’s turn to be gobsmacked. “Wha – for doing all this behind your back. For not listening to you. For almost ruining this holiday.”

His lover softens and shakes his head with a smile. “Dom. I knew you were up to something. I may be horribly in love, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind.” Bandit almost chokes on nothing. He what. “It was never about the stupid pranks, it was about them getting so elaborate that we spent less and less time together. I’m fine with you doing whatever as long as you pay enough attention to me. Which you have in the past days. I’m really happy with this vacation – and besides, you’re adorable when you’re shifty.”

Closing his mouth seems impossible at this point. “You – I’m -”

“We’re staying here for the rest of the week, right? So let’s make the most of it.”

The friendly, unguarded smile is killing him. Killing him. How can Jäger say – how can he stand there and just – it’s impossible, and his face is on fire yet again, and maybe, just maybe Sledge was spot on with what he said. He should stop running. For now, he merely nods, disarmed, and avoids Jäger’s much too intense gaze. There’s so much he still has to tell him, but it can wait. He doesn’t think there’ll be a shortage of romantic moments any time soon.

Looking towards the others, there’s at least one battle he can win. Maestro has switched to yelling at the poor recruits and doesn’t seem to notice anything else, so Bandit calls: “Seamus! Could you take your shirt off for me?”

The selfie Bandit posts in the group a minute later has him and Jäger in the foreground, lips touching and both ears crimson, but the background is pandemonium. A neon yellow Maestro is giving the splattered recruits a well-deserved bollocking, though neither of the five seems to be listening – instead, they’re staring over Maestro’s shoulder, eyes wide and transfixed on a shirtless Sledge who seems ready to humour anyone (probably courtesy of the fact that Bandit will leave him alone from now on) and is flexing for their benefit as well as showing off suspicious scratch marks and bruises all over his chiselled torso. Next to him, Mute has donned Sledge’s paint-soaked shirt and dragged his fingers through the viscous liquid to write TWAT on the bandages around Smoke’s hands, both of them beaming into the camera while making obscene gestures.

Blitz’ reply summarises the scene quite aptly: wtf, he writes and adds a row of appropriately dumbstruck emoji. Are those our recruits??

You guys are cute, is Rook’s contribution and for once, Bandit wholeheartedly agrees. And while he holds on to Jäger’s slim form, ignoring the chaos next to them and grinning at his lover’s suggestion of involving him in future plans so they can kill two birds with one stone, he decides to let the recruits enjoy the rest of their holiday unbothered.

After all, everyone deserves a bit of peace and quiet now and then. And it just so happens that he’s currently embracing his own.

#rainbow six siege #bandit #jäger #bandit/jäger #sledge/maestro #smoke/mute #blitz/rook #recruitverse #fanfic #oneshot #commissions #boy it wasn't easy fitting all of them in here #sledge and bandit make the best frenemies #next to everyone is a disaster in this #thank you again!!!! I really enjoyed myself :)

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friendlylocalwhumper · 5 years

Text

“I think you need to see for yourself what happens to warlocks.” The cop unlocks Lux’s wrists from the interrogation table and cuffs them back together in front of him, pulling him along with fingers wrapped around his bicep. Lux’s jaw is clamped shut with his determination not to show an undue flash of fear, falling in step and keeping quiet.

He’s led out into the main area, walked past desks where cops type on their computers and write reports and answer calls. The cop guides him through a door, down a stairwell, down a hall, and they’re under the station, now, heading toward two metal doors. They swing open, and the smell of antiseptic and formaldehyde makes Lux cringe.

“Coroner’s office,” The cop informs, tugging on Lux’s arm until they’re standing next to an autopsy table. There’s a body on it, hidden by a white sheet. “Pull that off, let’s see what’s under there.”

He’s anxious, growing nauseous with the smell, but Lux tries not to hesitate too long before he reaches with cuffed hands to take hold of the edge of the cover and lift it carefully, folding it over onto the person’s waist.

It’s someone young like him. A guy, maybe twenty-five, so pale he’s nearly blue, straw-colored hair limp against his forehead. His eyes are closed, his lips forming a slight frown like he’s just a little put off by his untimely death.

A hand presses to Lux’s back and shoves him forward; Lux yelps as his arms are pinned against the edge of the table, his palms trying to push against the metal so that he doesn’t collide with the corpse. One of the cop’s hands goes to the dead guy’s face and pulls his eyelids open, the other slipping up from Lux’s back to grab onto his curls and shove his head down, mere inches away from those drying, cloudy, empty eyes.

The warlock is making a string of terrified sounds, breathless ones as he pushes against the table and only succeeds in pressing his back into the cop’s chest.

“Died of two bullets to center mass,” The man explains by Lux’s ear. Blue eyes flick to the side and Lux can just barely see the two small holes past the cuts across the cadaver’s torso. “Bullets from my gun. Best to shoot a warlock in the heart. He came after me, that damn magic in his hands. This is what happens to your kind - you ever see what it’s like in a morgue, warlocks taking up all the tables, all the drawers? Like rats picked up off the street and dumped in a room to get dissected and stored. You know why we do that, ‘stead of leaving them in the gutter?”

“N-n-no,” Lux grunts, arms trembling. “W-why?”

“Because we’re the good guys. We don’t want dead bodies along roads to churches, to schools, to communities. You know why we budget the cost to keep coroners here all day and night, all year? Why we crack open those bodies after they’re already dead and out of the public eye? Because we’re making sure our reports match up. We need to make sure there are two bullets in this boy instead of twenty, make sure he had magic at some point. We’re kept in line, we’re moral. There’s a system, rules, order. You bastards don’t respect that, but I want you to remember it. Just because the system works best for me doesn’t mean I’m gonna abuse it for fun. If one of us hurts you, it’s because that’s what’s best for society, it’s what keeps families safe. When we turn you loose, let you live, warlock, don’t run and whine to your friends about what we did to you, because all you’ve ever gotten was justice.”

Arms burning from the exertion of pushing back, Lux makes a startled sound when they give out and he falls forward, forehead meeting the corpse’s with a dull thud. Those eyes aren’t being held open anymore; with a sticky sound, they fell half-closed, and Lux can see into them, he can smell the stench of halted decaying.

“This is gonna be you. Lying in some morgue, cold and stiff, nameless. Happens to all warlocks, unless you die with your kind and get buried by one of them illegally. Chances are, though, this’ll be you. Unless - well, you know.”

Breathing through his mouth isn’t making it any better, isn’t taking away the smell, because now Lux can taste it. “Wh-, know what? Unless what?”

“Unless you stop using your magic. This kid died trying to hurt cops with his, and he got shot for it. If he’d kept to himself, let his freak powers die and just lived a normal life, he’d be breathing right now. Just don’t use your damn magic. Goddammit, I don’t want to kill kids, take a fucking hint and change, will you?”

This dead warlock couldn’t have attacked for no reason. Maybe he was protecting a friend. Maybe he was goaded into it. Maybe he’s been hurt before by cops, like Lux, and he wanted to stand up for himself for once, even if it meant he’d end up here.

“I d-, don’t think we’re the ones who need to change,” The warlock answers, bracing himself for violence.

The cop groans in frustration and yanks Lux back, the grip returning to his upper arm. “Typical. All rhetoric with you magic types. Normal thugs, criminals, they make excuses, but you mutant fuckers have some kind of pride. Gets you killed every time. Listen, I already killed one of you today, I did my part, not trying to write another report for your death. Let’s go.”

As he’s led back out of the coroner’s office, Lux looks back, rubbing at his face and trying to forget the smell as he takes one last look at the dead warlock so he can remember what the guy looks like. It just feels important, to remember.

“I, I can le-earn,” Lux stammers, once they’re back out in the hallway. “I need to learn, how to m-make sure I don’t die like that. Don’t wanna die, and - and I don’t want to hurt a cop, even if I don’t think they’re good people. You don’t want to kill us, not as much as you do… can we, can we m-maybe, talk about it? I didn’t know you check reports, do autopsies… I’m i-ignorant, you are too, we can talk, we can both learn.”

The cop stops dragging him along and gives Lux an odd look. “You want to learn how we operate?” His expression darkens, and in a flash, Lux is pinned to the wall, a forearm across his throat. “What, so you can go tell your warlock friends how to evade us?”

“No - no! I just - you’re wrong, about us, wrong to kill us, but - you can’t be evil, can’t be all bad, you - you stop murders, go to houses and stop h-, husbands hitting wives, you find lost kids - that’s good stuff, and you have a system, and I w-wanna learn about it. I wanna know why you do it how you do.”

It takes a good minute, but the arm is lowered, and Lux is pulled along again.

“Fine. We’ll sit in the Lieutenant’s office, she’s out on vacation. Talking with a warlock, pff,” The cop huffs, half frustrated with himself and half incredulous. “You try anything, I’ll bring you back down here and shove you in a locker with one of the frozen corpses, you got it?”

“Y-yes, got it, I understand,” Lux answers with a shudder, following along once more.

“Alright. Let’s start off with one thing. You’re not righteous. Warlocks are civilian-killing fucks who don’t deserve as many rights as they’ve got, so don’t come into this thinking you’re going to change my mind about anything.”

Lux leans back, sets his cuffed wrists in his lap, and frowns. “Oh.”

“Oh, what?”

“Well, I’d rather go back in my cell, then.”

The cop grows flustered, crossing his arms where he sits a few feet away. “That’s it? You’re giving up?”

Careful not to overstep his bounds, Lux answers slowly. “I, um… well, I think for two people to have a conversation, there has to be respect. You just shoved my face into a corpse, but I’m being polite anyway. I don’t know what I’ve personally done to deserve - what did you call it? - rhetoric.”

The man stares at Lux like he has two heads, but he has to either return him to his cell or rethink, so he sits back with a sigh. “Show a warlock respect. Hmph.”

“Trust me, I feel the same way about showing a cop respect,” Lux replies, although he reconsiders his tone when the officer’s shoulders square off. Okay, Lux really does have to show more respect here, remember his position.

“So. You wanted to know about our system. How do you think we operate?”

“Well, you - I mean… I guess I think that cops ride around, spot someone they think could be a warlock, and put pressure on them. Hurt them, a lot of the time. Kill them sometimes. And they just go about their day after that.”

The cop barks out a single laugh, shaking his head. “Go about our day. If we so much as spot a warlock using magic, we have to call it in. If we end up shooting a warlock, we have to turn in our gun, come to the station, write a report, wait for the autopsy and witnesses and our partner to do their report. Sometimes, IAB - Internal Affairs - has us sit down for an interview where we get recorded, repeat the report out loud but try not to sound rehearsed… used to stress me out, first couple of years.”

Lux tilts his head in confusion. “I didn’t know that. IAB - what do they do if a cop’s story doesn’t hold up?”

“Fuck, they take your badge, investigate further, hold your pay. Usually we don’t get fired, but it’s a career killer, having IAB keep an eye on you after suspicion is raised. Lose the respect of other officers, and that could get you killed on the job, just that hesitation.”

“Killed on the job… is that something you guys worry about? I mean, is it a real threat?”

The officer leans forward. “Hell, why do you think we hate warlocks so much? Number one cause of death for a law enforcement officer. Stories I’ve heard, blood boiling and guts exploding and mind control… I’m not too proud a man to say that if I have to step out of my car to face a warlock, I’m halfway to shittin’ my pants.”

“Oh - oh, it’s, it’s scary?”

“Facing death itself? Yeah. My wife left me ‘cause of the heartbreak it gave her, hearing my buddies tell her stories about days I nearly died. That’s no life to give a woman.”

Lux watches the man lose himself, a little, in his recollection of being left. “I’m sorry.”

With a lopsided shrug, the cop moves on. “Anyway. Yeah, it’s dangerous. Before the war with warlocks, precincts had a wall with framed pictures of officers who lost their lives in the line of duty. All respectable, their portraits with the American flag in the background. Now, we’ve got walls covered in little bronze plaques with just their rank and last name. Too many dead to put up pictures.”

The warlock doesn’t have a way to respond to that.

“So. What’s it all look like from your side of things? Shit, don’t think I’ve ever sat down with a warlock to ask that.”

“Mmh, it’s… scary for us, too. I think… you’re scared of us, and you turn it into hate to get by, to feel like you can face it. We do that too. I don’t r-really hate cops, ‘m just scared of them. Of you.”

“You’re not scared of me,” The cop dismisses with a wave of his hand. “Not scared to be here, you’re just trying to make me feel bad for you, let down my guard.”

“I’m scared,” Lux insists, the chain links between his cuffs clinking when he shifts his arms. “I’m so scared, I - I know I might die, every time I’m caught, and every day I’m not even seen, I know it’ll happen. Normal people on the street, they hate me, want me dead, but only when they feel like it… you, though, police, it’s your job to kill me. I know that, I know it, I never stop thinking it. There’s people out there waiting for me to mess up so they can kill me.”

“That’d sound like something I could sympathize with… if it wasn’t your fault for being hated like that. Just stop using your magic.”

The warlock shakes his head, trying not to get frustrated. It’s silent for a moment as he gathers his thoughts, sorts through them. “...I know if I use magic in public, it’ll get me killed. And I don’t want to die. Don’t wanna get hurt, don’t wanna be hated… never thought I’d live to fifteen, but here I am, and - I didn’t finish high school. I don’t own a house, or a car, I - I’d pay taxes if I could get a job and learn how to do them. You’re scared of warlocks, but - this isn’t our world. We’re just trying to survive. You see how we live as hiding and breaking the law, I see it as… living off scraps.”

“Living off scraps.” It’s quiet again, and Lux fidgets nervously as the cop thinks. “Afraid of us. Hmm.”

“Y-yeah,” Lux responds uncertainly. Waits. Speaks up again. “Do you really think we’re - evil, and disgusting, and we should die? Or… are you just scared of us? Do you just feel like we’re an unknown threat?”

“...I think you should stop using magic, be like us.”

“Okay, but, but other than that - like, do you think I should die? Not if I use magic again, not if I hurt a cop, just, how I am right now, sitting here?”

The cop looks Lux up and down, tenses defensively. “...No. I’d need a reason to kill you.”

“Okay,” Lux answers and then falls silent with a sense of finality.

“Okay? What, that’s all? You’re not going to argue more?”

“Argue? No, I, I just wondered how you think. I’m not gonna change anything by talking more. You’re probably gonna let me go, and another cop will pick me up some other time, and I’m gonna get hurt, and then one day I’ll get killed. I’m not saying that to be dramatic, it’s just what’ll happen. I’ll be down in that morgue, and it’ll be over. Probably pretty soon. I’m old, you know, for a warlock. Twenty years of not dying. Glad I heard a cop’s side of things before I go. I’m, uh, I’m gonna try to never give one of you a reason to think I’ll hurt you. I don’t like making people feel scared.”

“Well, if you don’t present yourself as a threat, you won’t die like that.”

“Right.” Lux’s tone clearly conveys his disinterest, his disbelief in that reasoning. Like the simplest fact in the world is that he’s going to be killed for no reason other than for being alive.

The man before him seems unsettled by the reaction, by the conclusion to their conversation, but he only takes ten seconds more to think about it before he stands back up.

This time, he waits for Lux to stand up on his own instead of pulling him up by his arm.

“What’s your name, officer?” Lux asks as he’s guided out of the Lieutenant’s office.

“...Chambers. Detective Chambers.”

“I’m Lux,” The warlock responds. “Thanks for letting me listen, Detective Chambers.”

“...Yeah,” The detective grunts, bringing Lux back to the holding cell he’s been kept in for the past few hours. He seems uncomfortable now that Lux has established himself as a person instead of just a part of the magic menace. “Wasn’t a waste of time, I guess.”

#mine #whump #afraid #threats #drabble #cops #lux #death tw #police brutality tw

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