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notaplaceofhonour · 6 months

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I am pro-Palestine, but I've been getting a little uncomfortable with some of the things that some people have been posting. I've been looking for more nuanced takes, that still support Palestinian liberation. I don't know if this is okay to ask, but I was wondering if you could take a look at a couple of instagram posts that I was unsure about, because they seemed a little biased. I'm asking because some people have been acting like condemning Hamas is bad, and I'm genuinely confused at this point. I live a relatively privileged life, so I have no answer to the people who say that we're not allowed to police how the oppressed fight back. Also, I'm really sorry if anything I said was offensive. I'm still learning, and your post was on an important starting point.

Links:

https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cy0sgSxtboS/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

https://www.instagram.com/p/Cy9J8KLSuc8/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

It’s good that you’re open to growing and learning! Ignorance is where we all start, and it takes time to take in new information.

If you ever hear someone tell you you’re “policing how oppressed people liberate themselves” by being appalled by mass-murder or atrocities, they’re being intellectually dishonest. This is a thought-terminating cliche that is both misrepresenting the situation you’re criticizing and what you’re saying, and being used to shut down any attempt to step back and think critically about the situation.

They’re using the language of social justice—appealing to surface-level aesthetic markers of progressivism—while disregarding the core of what makes social justice socially just.

Because social justice isn’t just about being “on the right side” of a fight, right? It’s about ensuring the freedom, dignity, and social well-being of everyone, not just “the right people”. That’s why the concept of equity exists. The framework of oppressor-oppressed/privilege/power dynamics certainly can be a helpful tool to understanding that, but the moment it’s weaponized to enable atrocities, mass-murder, & the denial of human rights, it ceases to support that goal—the entire point that framework exists. The framework of sorting entire populations of people into the categories of “the people you can’t criticize” vs “the people it’s fine to dehumanize” is one that is fundamentally opposed to social justice—in fact, it’s one of the steps of genocide.

Being oppressed is not a license to commit atrocities or shoot up schools or concerts or ethnically cleanse a town. Being mistreated doesn’t waive a person from responsibility for their actions, and no one needs to be equally oppressed to them in order to recognize when someone is doing something monstrous that must be stopped. You’re allowed to be appalled by atrocities or anything that dehumanizes anyone, and you’re allowed to fight against dehumanizing & mass-murdering anyone, no matter who’s doing it.

Having privilege—having power—often comes with blindspots, and it’s important to fill in the gaps of your experience with the experiences of people who don’t share your privilege, but that privilege doesn’t disqualify you from having a perspective, and caring about social justice for everyone, not just for some. In fact, privilege—power—comes with a responsibility to use it in favor of ensuring social justice is delivered for everyone—not just “the right group”. The whether because they live in an open-air prison or because someone broke into their house and executed their family in front of them.

As for the instagram posts:

The reel:

It’s a very whitewashed & over-simplistic presentation of Jewish-Arab relations in the Levant. Why exactly it’s wrong is difficult to fully cover without writing a novel’s-worth to debunk it, but essentially it pushes the myth that Palestine existed as an Arab homeland prior to the establishment of the modern state of Israel, and that the two countries would’ve been fine if Israel hadn’t gotten greedy & tried to take it all over.

In fact, the League of Nations created Mandatory Palestine in 1920 as a British territory out of land Britain got from the dissolved Ottoman Empire after WWI, which the Allies had made separate promises to both Jews & Arabs to give it to each of them as a homeland for their respective peoples. The twin movements for Arab & Jewish national independence (the latter of which is called Zionism) rose in the Levant around the same time. Arab-Jewish solidarity existed between some people in the movements, but there was also tension & fighting between other parts of the movements. The League of Nations drew up a partition plan in 1947 to give land to both Jews and Arabs, but that partition plan did not go through because the Jewish leadership accepted it and the Arab leadership did not. Negotiations fell apart, Israel declared its independence the next year (it was not created by the US or UK), and the Arab League invaded, creating the client state of All-Palestine. The Arab League tried to destroy Israel, and Israel won the war.

It’s true that Israel *did* seize more land than the 1947 partition would have allotted them, Israeli soldiers did commit atrocities during the war, and a lot of Arabs who refused Israeli citizenship were displaced to Gaza & the West Bank (it’s worth noting that Jews were also forced to flee from there to Israel in that time as well, but that doesn’t negate the horrors of the Nakba for Palestinians), which remained under the control of other Arab countries for a long time after.

I know less about the other Arab-Israeli wars, but I know Israel took more land during the Six Day War in 1967, displacing even more of the Arab population to what is now Palestine. The modern State of Palestine itself wasn’t created until 1988. Under Bibi Netanyahu & Likud, Israel has continued to move Israeli settlers outside Israel’s borders, deeper into Palestinian territory, often terrorizing & displacing more Palestinians.

The reel also uses the phrase “Zionist Media” to present the sum total of art & news media in Europe & America as a propaganda arm of Zionism/Israel. Bias can exist in any media, but when you hear this specific phrase, or any claim that amounts to painting “the MainStream Media”/“Western Media”/“Corporate Media” as one entity that is single-mindedly Pro-Israel, as shills for Israel, pushing “Zionist Propaganda”, that the media is in Zionist hands, in Zionist pockets, funded by the “deep pockets” of the Israel Lobby, that Israel “has its hands in” international media etc., this is a reference to a conspiracy theory from The Protocols of the Elders of Zion (an antisemitic hoax document claiming to be the minutes of a Zionist meeting detailing their plans to exploit, control, & genocide non-Jews; originally published by Tsarists, and since reprinted by antisemites across the world, including the Nazis, Henry Ford, Milton William Cooper, & some factions in Palestine, including Hamas), which claims that the media is in Zionist hands, that they decide what does or doesn’t get printed. Anywhere you see the phrase “(((Zionist Media)))” you should heard it with the triple parentheses. I would call it a dogwhistle, but I feel like it’s too blatant.

The slideshow:

It’s straight up just pro-Hamas propaganda. It’s full of terrorism apologia, revisionism, selective presentation of quotes from Hamas, and atrocity denial.

Anyone claiming Hamas hasn’t committing extreme & horrific atrocities against civilians or that those atrocities are just made up is out of their goddamn mind. Hamas has sent suicide bombers into densely populated areas. Their rockets have frequently targeted populations with no military installations anywhere nearby. We have footage of Hamas executing unarmed Israelis, including children, a terrorist trying to behead an incapacitated Jewish man with a shovel, a terrorist calling his mother on the phone of a Jewish woman he murdered to brag about how many Jews he had killed that day. Anyone invoking the name of MLK, Malcolm X, or Nelson Mandela to deny or justify any of that as though it’s just “armed resistance” is a disgusting, antisemitic person.

Hamas denies the Holocaust, claims that it’s Zionist propaganda. Hamas’s original charter included passages detailing their plan to kill Jews anywhere they lived, including a vivid fantasy about hunting down Jews (not “Zionists”, it explicitly says Jews) even as they tried to run away and hide and begged for mercy; they’ve since tried to whitewash that in the revised charter, mostly just swapping out the word “Jew” with “Zionist” without changing much of the actual content, while claiming they never were antisemitic (saying in fact they can’t be antisemitic because antisemitism “isn’t a part of Arab culture”—something else they have claimed isn’t “part of Arab culture” is teaching that the Holocaust even happened), despite the fact that their new charter still pushes several cartoonishly antisemitic conspiracy theories from The Protocols of the Elders of Zion, including the claim that the Free Masons are a front for global Zionist control.

I’m going to go into further detail about the antisemitism of Hamas’s rhetoric with sources on a different post eventually (I promise), but yeah, if anyone ever tries to claim Hamas “just hates Zionists, not Jews”, no they don’t; they are cartoonishly antisemitic; they just mean “Jew” when they say “Zionist”. It’s a dog whistle.

#i/p #social justice #antisemitism

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radioactivepeasant · 11 months

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Fic Prompts: Free Day Thursday

As per Monday's poll, here we have the Prisoner Exchange AU! If I added everything I've got for it this post would be super long, so what I'm actually doing is giving you the angsty bits from the beginning here, and later this afternoon I'll post the later and less angsty part HERE and THERE

_________<________<________<_______<____

"Shift change."

Tomsin couldn't help breathing a sigh of relief. The prisoner -- gods it felt wrong to even think that -- hadn't moved much since the force field went up, but it was still unnerving to sit in the silence with him.

"Thank the Precursors. I'm gonna lose it if I have to stare at these walls another second." Tomsin stood up and stretched, trying not to show how eager she was to escape.

Her relief, Giles, shifted uncomfortably. His arm was still in a sling where Jak had all but snapped it in two. Green eco was rationed, even for soldiers now. It would take a few days for the bone to mend.

"How's he doing?" Giles asked, peering around Tomsin's shoulder at the figure crouched in the cell.

"He was pretty violent for a couple hours, but then he just went quiet," Tomsin admitted.

"Well can you blame him?" Giles shifted uncomfortably and crept closer to the force field.

Jak, their one time hero, huddled in a corner, knees pulled to his chest and staring blankly at the wall. He rocked back and forth, completely silent.

"This feels wrong, this feels so wrong," Giles whispered.

"This isn't what we got the tattoos for."

"I know." Tomsin looked away.

"Heard the stories. But I only ever saw Jak in creature mode, y'know? I didn't think he was this young."

Giles winced at the pitiful figure's silent rocking and let a traitorous thought escape.

"Is this really worth it?"

Tomsin gaped at him. "Giles, this is Torn we're talking about! Loyalty aside, losing him would compromise the whole city! And then Veger would be the governor's second in command."

Giles shuddered. Nobody wanted the pompous nobleman taking Commander Torn's place.

"I know, I know. I just...he can't be that much older than my Rosie. Feels bad."

"It's him or all of us," Tomsin said, but she wouldn't look at either of them.

Giles knew it was to hide the uncertainty in her eyes.

Tomsin signed out and Giles took her seat. Working up his courage, he swallowed hard and called softly, "Hey, hey kid. You hungry? I can...I can get something delivered if you want. You want anything?"

Jak curled tighter -- the first reaction Giles had seen so far -- and barely audibly croaked,

"No drugs."

The words soured and withered away on Giles's tongue. The kid expected them to drug his food? Giles thought of his daughter, twelve and full of pre-teen impudence. His stomach churned, imagining her in Jak’s place.

Are we selling our souls to get Torn back? he wondered.

"I'm sorry, kid," he said quietly. "If...if I had the passcode, I'd let you out."

He was not that surprised to find that he meant it.

"The governor is pretty darn sure those Wastelanders don't want to hurt you but- well. Who ever trusted a Praxis anyway?"

"I did," Jak answered unexpectedly.

He buried his head in his arms.

"Wish I hadn't."

____________<><><><><><><><>______________

In any other context, the morning would have been beautiful. Birds were beginning to fill the empty buildings of Dead Town with their nests, and for the first time in more than ten years, signs of life filled the ruined streets. It was a perfect summer morning, still spared the waves of heat that were already sweeping the western archipelago.

It was, in Ashelin's opinion, deeply inappropriate weather for what might as well have been an execution.

Jak hadn't spoken to her since the night before. Actually, Jak hadn't spoken to anyone since the night before. He glared at the ground, but didn't seem to be really seeing it. His movements were mechanical, a kind of autopilot just quick enough to prevent the Freedom League guards from dragging him bodily to the stretch of land where the exchange was to take place. He looked...broken. Like he'd finally lost his will to fight.

Ashelin wanted to be sick.

"I...I'm sorry, Jak," she whispered. "The Council overruled me. There was nothing I could do."

She tasted the lie on her lips and closed her eyes.

"I know that you're the only person who can get through this, and beat these raiders at their own game. I hope- I hope one day you'll forgive me, Jak."

From his shoulder, Daxter bunched himself up and growled, "Don't count on it."

Count Veger marched out ahead of them and raised his staff to signal the warlord they called The Dune-Wolf.

"Show us the commander, unharmed, and we'll release the boy to you."

"Well look at that," a Wastelander -- Sig, Ashelin thought his name was, Krew's heavy-- jeered.

"A Praxis can do the right thing after all! And it only took a hostage and some blackmail to accomplish."

The Wolf snorted, an echoing sound behind his mask. "Thank heaven for little miracles," he said sardonically, and once again Ashelin was struck by the familiarity of his voice.

She could have sworn that for just an instant she felt the ice in his stare, piercing her throat when he caught sight of Jak and stiffened.

Cold and hard, he hissed, "You bring him to me in chains?"

Jak’s eyes flicked upward for a brief second, meeting his, then they seemed to cloud over again. It was the most reaction he'd shown to anything since they'd taken him from the cell.

Veger hid his nerves better than the soldiers. Better than Ashelin.

"For your own protection," he murmured, feigning deference as he stepped back. "The boy is...violently unsuited to society. Feral, in a word."

"You want feral?" Daxter snarled from Jak's shoulder, "Oh, I'll give you feral-!"

Sig stepped forward at a gesture from his commander and shoved Torn in front of him. Torn stumbled and nearly fell. He sucked in a breath. Jak looked rough. Disoriented. Clearly, this wasn't a willing trade. He looked to Ashelin, to Veger, and knew in his heart that this was always going to happen. But this marked the second time he had betrayed Jak, albeit unwittingly this time. And this time, Jak wasn't coming back.

"I'm so sorry, Jak-! I didn't want this!" Torn croaked.

Jak did not seem like he was even aware of his presence.

When the two prisoners reached the halfway point, Sig all but threw Torn at the Havenites. He grabbed Jak by the arm and yanked him away from the guards as if they were going to change their mind and whisk Jak back into the city.

"Easy, cherries," he murmured, softening his grip, "Y'all just sit tight. S' gonna be okay."

The Wolf tilted his head to watch Jak for a moment. The boy was slumped, listless. Resigned. Slowly, the warlord's posture tightened and tensed until he looked to be a hair's breadth from killing someone.

"Take them back to base camp," he commanded.

"Aye, sir."

Sig wrapped his arm around Jak’s shoulders -- and Daxter by extension.

"Come on, boys. Let's get that wristwear off you."

The Wolf watched as Sig led Jak to one of the ominous looking vehicles behind them. Then he lifted his chin and gestured with his staff at the Havenites in a parody of a magnanimous benefactor.

"The House of Mar thanks you for your...cooperation, Count. Governor," he declared mockingly.

His guards kept their eyes trained on the slack, horrified faces of Ashelin, Torn, and Veger until the Wolf had swung himself back in the retrofitted Hellcat.

#Jak and Daxter #jak and daxter au #prisoner exchange au #angst/comfort #fic prompts #writing prompts #free day thursday #dadmas #king damas #jak and daxter sig #count veger #ashelin praxis #Ashelin isn't a villain but she can be selfish. you know. like Samos but with less manipulation #Haven didn't realize the warlord was Damas and now they're panicking #part two to follow this afternoon #illustrations #my art

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istumpysk · 1 year

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Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: The King's Prize (Asha II) [Chapter 42]

Asha Greyjoy rode in the baggage train, in a covered wayn with two huge iron-rimmed wheels, fettered at wrist and ankle and watched over day and night by a She-Bear who snored worse than any man. His Grace King Stannis was taking no chances on his prize escaping captivity. He meant to carry her to Winterfell, to display her there in chains for the lords of the north to see, the kraken's daughter bound and broken, proof of his power.

Almighty tree, show me Stannis Baratheon's power.

+.+.+

Between Deepwood Motte and Winterfell lay one hundred leagues of forest. Three hundred miles as the raven flies. "Fifteen days," the knights told each other.

"Robert would have done it in ten," Asha heard Lord Fell boasting. His grandsire had been slain by Robert at Summerhall; somehow this had elevated his slayer to godlike prowess in the grandson's eyes. "Robert would have been inside Winterfell a fortnight ago, thumbing his nose at Bolton from the battlements."

[...]

This king lives in his brother's shadow, Asha thought.

I'm guessing the brother inferiority complex will be present when Jon becomes king.

In truth, the young lord commander and her king had more in common than either one would ever be willing to admit. Stannis had been a younger son living in the shadow of his elder brother, just as Jon Snow, bastard-born, had always been eclipsed by his trueborn sibling, the fallen hero men had called the Young Wolf. Both men were unbelievers by nature, mistrustful, suspicious. The only gods they truly worshiped were honor and duty. - Melisandre I, ADWD

+.+.+

"No man has ever died from bending his knee," her father had once told her. "He who kneels may rise again, blade in hand. He who will not kneel stays dead, stiff legs and all."

Does that count as another Asha / Arya similarity?

+.+.+

Qarl and Tris and the rest who had survived the wolfswood were all she had to care about. Only nine remained. We ragged nine, Cromm named them. He was the worst wounded.

Nine? She had two hundred men and now she has nine.

Damn, I was wrong at the time, maybe she should have stayed in the castle.

+.+.+

Stannis had given her their lives. Yet she sensed no true mercy in the man. He was determined, beyond a doubt. Nor did he lack for courage. Men said he was just … and if his was a harsh, hard-handed sort of justice, well, life on the Iron Islands had accustomed Asha Greyjoy to that. All the same, she could not like this king. Those deep-set blue eyes of his seemed always slitted in suspicion, cold fury boiling just below their surface. Her life meant little and less to him. She was only his hostage, a prize to show the north that he could vanquish the ironborn.

Stating the obvious. The man does not pass the vibe check.

+.+.+

Her very womanhood seemed to offend him. Men from the green lands liked their women soft and sweet in silk, she knew, not clad in mail and leather with a throwing axe in each hand. But her short acquaintance with the king at Deepwood Motte convinced her that he would have been no more fond of her in a gown. Even with Galbart Glover's wife, the pious Lady Sybelle, he had been correct and courteous but plainly uncomfortable. This southron king seemed to be one of those men to whom women are another race, as strange and unfathomable as giants and grumkins and the children of the forest. The She-Bear made him grind his teeth as well.

+.+.+

Even prisoners have ears, and she had heard all the talk at Deepwood Motte, when King Stannis and his captains were debating this march. Ser Justin had opposed it from the start, along with many of the knights and lords who had come with Stannis from the south. But the wolves insisted; Roose Bolton could not be suffered to hold Winterfell, and the Ned's girl must be rescued from the clutches of his bastard.

The mountain clans have doomed Stannis and I'm loving it.

+.+.+

The king cut him off. "We all know what my brother would do. Robert would gallop up to the gates of Winterfell alone, break them with his warhammer, and ride through the rubble to slay Roose Bolton with his left hand and the Bastard with his right." Stannis rose to his feet. "I am not Robert. But we will march, and we will free Winterfell … or die in the attempt."

I believe you, ellipsis of truth.

+.+.+

Whatever doubts his lords might nurse, the common men seemed to have faith in their king. Stannis had smashed Mance Rayder's wildlings at the Wall and cleaned Asha and her ironborn out of Deepwood Motte; he was Robert's brother, victor in a famous sea battle off Fair Isle, the man who had held Storm's End all through Robert's Rebellion.

Mance Rayder and his ragtag army were PARLEYING.

You had two hundred men, and ABANDONED THE CASTLE. He didn't even smash you, the mountain clans did!

Zero credit. None.

+.+.+

Stannis need only bloody Bolton, and the northmen will abandon him."

So you hope, thought Asha, but first the king must bloody him. Only a fool deserts the winning side.

Trying to think of who this could be hinting at.

+.+.+

It made no matter. Her father's lands would never be hers, no matter whom she married. The ironborn were not a forgiving people, and Asha had been defeated twice. Once at the kingsmoot by her uncle Euron, and again at Deepwood Motte by Stannis. More than enough to stamp her as unfit to rule.

It's true, that will be a problem. Asha needs a big victory for the ironborn.

+.+.+

"Do you have brothers?" Asha asked her keeper.

"Sisters," Alysane Mormont replied, gruff as ever. "Five, we were. All girls. Lyanna is back on Bear Island. Lyra and Jory are with our mother. Dacey was murdered."

"The Red Wedding."

With their mother where?

The last time we saw Maege Mormont she was supposed to be sailing up the Neck to Greywater Watch. I would love to know how Lyra and Jory got to her.

+.+.+

"Aye." Alysane stared at Asha for a moment. "I have a son. He's only two. My daughter's nine."

"You started young."

"Too young. But better that than wait too late."

A stab at me, Asha thought, but let it be.

The probability that Asha's pregnant is increasing.

+.+.+

"No. My children were fathered by a bear." Alysane smiled. Her teeth were crooked, but there was something ingratiating about that smile. "Mormont women are skinchangers. We turn into bears and find mates in the woods. Everyone knows."

I'm surprised the Mormonts aren't ostracized from the rest of the north.

+.+.+

The king stood outside his tent, staring into the nightfire. What does he see there? Victory? Doom? The face of his red and hungry god? His eyes were sunk in deep pits, his close-cropped beard no more than a shadow across his hollow cheeks and bony jawbone. Yet there was power in his stare, an iron ferocity that told Asha this man would never, ever turn back from his course.

We love a stupid stubborn man.

+.+.+

"Torrhen's Square is not worth the mud beneath my heels. It is Winterfell that matters."

"Strike off these irons and let me help you take it, Sire. Your Grace's royal brother was renowned for turning fallen foes into friends. Make me your man."

"The gods did not make you a man. How can I?" Stannis turned back to the nightfire and whatever he saw dancing there amongst the orange flames.

Ser Justin Massey grasped Asha by the arm and pulled her inside the royal tent. "That was ill judged, my lady," he told her. "Never speak to him of Robert."

I should have known better. Asha knew how it went with little brothers. She remembered Theon as a boy, a shy child who lived in awe, and fear, of Rodrik and Maron. They never grow out of it, she decided. A little brother may live to be a hundred, but he will always be a little brother.

Bran is also a little brother, are we going to see that play out too?

+.+.+

"Would that we were ravens," Justin Massey said on the fourth day of the march, the day the snow began to fall. Only a few small flurries at first. Cold and wet, but nothing they could not push through easily.

But it snowed again the next day, and the day after, and the day after that.

+.+.+

On the third day of snow, the king's host began to come apart. Whilst the southron knights and lordlings struggled, the men of the northern hills fared better. Their garrons were sure-footed beasts that ate less than palfreys, and much less than the big destriers, and the men who rode them were at home in the snow. Many of the wolves donned curious footwear. Bear-paws, they called them, queer elongated things made with bent wood and leather strips. Lashed onto the bottoms of their boots, the things somehow allowed them to walk on top of the snow without breaking through the crust and sinking down to their thighs.

Bwahahahaha.

+.+.+

Some had bear-paws for their horses too, and the shaggy little garrons wore them as easily as other mounts wore iron horseshoes … but the palfreys and destriers wanted no part of them.

Guys I'm starting to lose hope for a Dothraki Christmas.

We could have had it all! :(

+.+.+

On the fifth day of the storm, the baggage train crossed a rippling expanse of waist-high snowdrifts that concealed a frozen pond. When the hidden ice cracked beneath the weight of the wagons, three teamsters and four horses were swallowed up by the freezing water, along with two of the men who tried to rescue them.

Foreshadowing for the The Night Lamp theory.

Long story short, Stannis will use a beacon of light to trick the Frey army into travelling over a frozen lake.

We'll cover it all in Theon I TWOW.

+.+.+

That was the night that Asha first heard the queen's men muttering about a sacrifice—an offering to their red god, so he might end the storm. "The gods of the north have unleashed this storm on us," Ser Corliss Penny said.

[...]

The king said nothing. But he heard. Asha was certain of that. He sat at the high table as a dish of onion soup cooled before him, hardly tasted, staring at the flame of the nearest candle with those hooded eyes, ignoring the talk around him.

Speaking of foreshadowing, I think we all know what this is pointing to.

+.+.+

Asha thought she had known cold on Pyke, when the wind came howling off the sea, but that was nothing compared to this. This is a cold that drives men mad.

What are you saying about Canadians and Russians, George?

+.+.+

Later, when Ser Corliss Penny wondered aloud whether an entire army had ever frozen to death in a winter storm, the wolves laughed. "This is no winter," declared Big Bucket Wull. "Up in the hills we say that autumn kisses you, but winter fucks you hard. This is only autumn's kiss."

Peak asshole behaviour. Big fan of Big Bucket Wull.

+.+.+

"A sacrifice will prove our faith still burns true, Sire," Clayton Suggs had told the king. And Godry the Giantslayer said, "The old gods of the north have sent this storm upon us. Only R'hllor can end it. We must give him an unbeliever."

"Half my army is made up of unbelievers," Stannis had replied. "I will have no burnings. Pray harder."

No burnings today, and none tomorrow … but if the snows continue, how long before the king's resolve begins to weaken? Asha had never shared her uncle Aeron's faith in the Drowned God, but that night she prayed as fervently to He Who Dwells Beneath the Waves as ever the Damphair had.

... good question ...

+.+.+

The cold count, Asha heard it named. The baggage train suffered the worst: dead horses, lost men, wayns overturned and broken. "The horses founder in the snow," Justin Massey told the king. "Men wander off or just sit down to die."

"Let them," King Stannis snapped. "We press on."

The northmen fared much better, with their garrons and their bear-paws. Black Donnel Flint and his half-brother Artos only lost one man between them. The Liddles, the Wulls, and the Norreys lost none at all. One of Morgan Liddle's mules had gone astray, but he seemed to think the Flints had stolen him.

+.+.+

On the twenty-sixth day of the fifteen-day march, the last of the vegetables was consumed. On the thirty-second day, the last of the grain and fodder. Asha wondered how long a man could live on raw, half-frozen horse meat.

Go home, Stannis.

+.+.+

Finally, after a nightmarish day when the column advanced a bare mile and lost a dozen horses and four men, Lord Peasebury turned against the northmen. "This march was madness. More dying every day, and for what? Some girl?"

"Ned's girl," said Morgan Liddle. He was the second of three sons, so the other wolves called him Middle Liddle, though not often in his hearing.

[...]

"Ned's girl," echoed Big Bucket Wull. "And we should have had her and the castle both if you prancing southron jackanapes didn't piss your satin breeches at a little snow."

I'm stupid, is this where Middle Brittle comes from? Bwah!

The armorer considered that a moment. "Robert was the true steel. Stannis is pure iron, black and hard and strong, yes, but brittle, the way iron gets. He'll break before he bends. And Renly, that one, he's copper, bright and shiny, pretty to look at but not worth all that much at the end of the day." - Jon I, ACOK

+.+.+

"Winter is almost upon us, boy. And winter is death. I would sooner my men die fighting for the Ned's little girl than alone and hungry in the snow, weeping tears that freeze upon their cheeks. No one sings songs of men who die like that. As for me, I am old. This will be my last winter. Let me bathe in Bolton blood before I die. I want to feel it spatter across my face when my axe bites deep into a Bolton skull. I want to lick it off my lips and die with the taste of it on my tongue."

How can I not stan Big Bucket Wull?

+.+.+

Even in his bulky fur cloak and heavy armor, Stannis looked like a man with one foot in the grave.

Every once in a while George abandons the art of subtlety.

+.+.+

The next day the king's scouts chanced upon an abandoned crofters' village between two lakes—a mean and meagre place, no more than a few huts, a longhall, and a watchtower.

[...]

Asha crawled out from under her sleeping furs and pushed her way out of the tent, knocking aside the wall of snow that had sealed them in during the night. Her irons clanked as she climbed to her feet and took a breath of the icy morning air. The snow was still falling, even more heavily than when she'd crawled inside the tent. The lakes had vanished, and the woods as well. She could see the shapes of other tents and lean-tos and the fuzzy orange glow of the beacon fire burning atop the watchtower, but not the tower itself. The storm had swallowed the rest.

Night Lamp things.

+.+.+

Somewhere ahead Roose Bolton awaited them behind the walls of Winterfell, but Stannis Baratheon's host sat snowbound and unmoving, walled in by ice and snow, starving.

Sounds like he's a wildling.

Final thoughts:

The Kraken's Daughter

The Wayward Bride

The King's Prize

Someone on Reddit made the great observation that despite her self-assurance, Asha is always defined by (male) others.

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #adwd #the king's prize #asha ii

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minseologs · 6 months

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if tenderness was measured by how much one was in pain

Minseo had learned at an early age that if she wanted something, she would have to earn it in ways that would please the other so much to the point that she would accept pain and suffering on her own. It applied in everything in her life, as if that was the only thing she had ever come to know. The root could be traced back as far as when she was born. Always off to the side, uncomfortable in the public’s eye when her family acts as though they didn’t spite her existence previously. It was always a surprise when others have come to realize that second child was there as a spare. Soft-spoken in a lot of ways, there wasn’t much to talk about her aside from her supposed kind nature on the surface.

It wasn’t new that she often rejected people’s help and only took the ones familiar to her. There was always an initial assumption of needing something from her due to the fact that whenever her own family displayed any sort of will to assist or give, it would usually mean they needed something else— anything. A reflective form of response. For many years, Minseo had thought being kind was like this. A mere transaction to get by, most often with financial depth. It made her happy, somehow. The mind set has trickled down to the point where she had already hurt people without knowledge. Her entire existence is to give and give, until there is nothing left.

“--Fucking hate it when I’m feeling this way.” Minseo’s voice cracks as a single tear rolls down her cheek, wiping it away as quickly as it came. The emotional toll of being captive in her own hospital room had caught up and she’d be lying if she said it didn’t affect her. “I don’t understand why I can’t be home. Won’t it be safer? Wenhan’s there to care for me— Xian's been watching me so he can vouch.”

“That’s the thing, Miss Choi.” Her legal advisor looks over reports of challenging authority, most of the trouble she’s put herself in had been akin to people watching her every move. “Your excuse for this behavior could be possible from the medication, but excessive force and — ‘attempt to asphyxiate’ a guard — is out of our league. This isn’t a place we can handle things easily. I’d have to bribe hush money and erase records of things here— do you know how difficult that was?”

She looks on, her recklessness has caused even more isolation. Minseo felt more like a prisoner of a place that shouldn’t have felt the way it did while everything around her continued.

“I have a feeling this is more than just what had happened—“ her advisor flips a page, to look on. “You’ve been too erratic lately. How can we know you won’t be the same in Seongbuk? On top of all of it, the trial is still finishing up. We can't do anything but hide you away from everyone.”

Minseo kept her lips shut, thinking about how things would’ve been better off if she just didn’t survive. She admits, the feeling of just being content was so distant.

“We’ll go ahead and arrange for you to meet some psychologists. Talking to someone aside from the two will help, I’m sure. You’re not a lost cause.” She watches as the woman packs her things and heads for the door. “Why don’t you talk to your other friends? Talk to staff and try not to kill them?”

“I’d be a nuisance…”

"Why?" A voice on the phone challenged the idea. "It can't be a private donation if you're giving in large amount. This is a private institution."

""You're my financial advisor, let's figure it out. There has to be a way..."

"Well, you can make a charity event. Pass it off as multiple donations."

"I don't want to bring anymore attention to myself, thank you." Minseo furrows at her reflection in the mirror of her room, watching the time with thought. "What if it's like a small gathering? passed off as charity, by me. No press, no attention. Just the department and a few friends or something. We always did that for the orphanage."

"It's different, Miss Choi. Even then, I'd have to ensure your name is not with in this." the man was distressed with the request. "How am I going to split a hundred million won in between the orphanages and then the hospital all of a sudden?"

"I was in my session today that I found out the hospital is cutting annual financial support for therapy considering they found other things to worry of... how sad is that?" she chimes over the phone, looking of her reports. She had another week to show them she can sustain survival on her own. She was eyeing one nurse that appeared easiest to be kind to. "I swear... it's like sometimes I was meant to know things at the right time."

"I'm sure they're doing their very best to get you out."

Minseo was simple in life, but gave more to people who could need it without being asked. She was a patron of many associations under her name, even more so than her family. But what was a charitable deed on the surface for the rest to see was her own selfish reason to fill a void in her. A reason to cope. The gratitude filled her with joy even if she wasn't recognized. Still, even in the end, she kept looking for kindness in the wrong places. Defining it with tainted feelings and devoid of its purpose.

"Yeah.. I've been told 'money buys happiness' right?"

#cms:story #so basically #she misses everyone lol #I was suppose to release this last month but whatever

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lydias--stiles · 2 years

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jopper | drabble | stranger things post-s4 spec |

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

As with most nights, Joyce woke up from screaming. At first, rustling and shiftiness, then heavy breathing and mumbling, incoherent words, finishing off with an outburst of screams and shouts. It was unfortunately routine at this point.

Jolting awake, she turned her head and found the man in question thrashing the bed.

"Hopper! Hopper! Hop! I'm right here," she urged, shaking his broad shoulder. "Wake up!"

The man woke up with a start, breathing heavily as his skittish eyes surveilled the bedroom. It was dark, but the instant smell of Joyce's faded perfume and the aroma of home slowed his heart down to a steadier beat. Not normal. Never normal again.

He sighed, "Sorry, Joy."

"It's okay," she whispered, big eyes blinking at him with worry he wished to make disappear. The guilt ate at him: he made her worry. And yet, she stayed. She read his mind. "And don't you dare feel bad for me, Hop. I'm here, because I love you. Not because I pity you. You better know that damn well."

Hop nodded, quiet, unsure any of his own words sufficed. He was never good at speaking about his feelings.

"What was the nightmare about?" she asked.

"Same as usual," he muttered, wiping a hand across his sweaty forehead. "The commies. The prison. Thinking I'm dying. Thinking you're dying."

"You should go to that shrink I told you about."

He sighed. "Joy--"

"No, I'm serious, Hop." Her voice was firm. "And not just to talk about your time in Russia. But about Vietnam as well. And about Sara. I may not understand everything, but a shrink? They will. In their own professional way."

"You're saying I need professional help?" he scoffed, but he knew the answer to that already; knew it for himself, too.

Her eyes narrowed. "Yes," she said, clipped. "You need professional help."

He couldn't see himself doing it: sitting in some plush chair as an Ivy League snob asked him about his past from their ivory tower. But he'd do anything for Joyce. Even if that meant he had to get uncomfortable. Hell, he tried to escape a Russian prison for her, didn't he?

"Can we discuss this more in the morning?" Hop asked. His arms curled around her warm body, pulling her closer. They weren't the cuddly type of couple, but sometimes... he just needed that.

She sighed, head dropping back on her pillow. "Okay..."

His face pressed in her slender shoulder, hoping that the contact would keep him grounded in reality. "I promise we'll talk about it."

Humming, Joyce raked a hand through his newly grown hair. It was courser than she thought it would be, but thicker than before; like his body gave him a new chance. She felt him melt under the touch. It felt heavy, but she rather had the pressure on the side of her body than no weight at all. The air of ghosts had haunted her long enough.

She knew now, with Hopper and Will and El and Jonathan in the house, that they'd be safe. No real nightmares could catch them again all the way in Lenora Hills.

"I love you, Joy," he whispered, warm breath fanning her skin.

"I love you, too."

#jopper #joyce x hopper #stranger things 4 #st4 #st fanfiction #queue

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acethedria · 1 year

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My thoughts on cops in Drawtectives

The Drawtectives have a whole weird relationship to cops and honestly it’s very inconsistent. This is common for detective stories so I wanted to think about it more.

Warning for spoilers for both seasons and the one shot

The Drawtectives themselves

Are the Drawtectives cops? If I were to classify them, they're only like cops in the way that a Superhero is, where they effectively act as law enforcement but with morals. They’re not real private investigators, they’re fictional, and can thus be like how they are. The Drawtectives would never go after anyone who didn’t "deserve it." However you define that.

However, they’re still a form of law enforcement and I believe I would be remiss if I didn’t say that they are still putting people into prison. They’re still putting "bad" people into the hands of actual full on cops, so they’re entirely complicit in the process. This is quite common in detective stories. We love Benoit Blanc but he still is in leagues with cops so y’know in real life how good could he possibly be.

The B Team

Okay so S1 starts off with a sympathetic character as a cop. Flem Mucowsy was only added to be a front door guard but it’s still an odd thing to start the group of cops we meet with a sympathetic / pathetic guy who’s so sick he can’t even do his job correctly.

This is contrasted immediately by an overly serious Inna Urfass. She is the only competent cop we really meet in the entire season, gathering evidence, putting people into individual rooms, acting as security for the entire building. She gets close to copaganda. Especially since the fact that she is stated to be the only competent person on her team, it sort of portrays her in a sympathetic light, that she is smart and everyone around her is holding her back because she "Does her job" (paraphrasing).

Pierce Steel is an absolute idiot and so is still Bogan, but during interactions with Pierce Steel we do know that Jancy used to work with him often and even had him declared innocent for a crime he didn’t commit. This reflects quite well on Jancy, as she absolutely ensures that the innocent are not punished, although of course it doesn't question the system itself. Pierce doesn’t either cause that’s what made him want to be a cop? For some reason? Pierce is a weird character in this regard.

Imagine a bunch of unequivocal idiots being the ones to decide who gets arrested and put into the process of the justice system and who gets to walk free… oh wait.

Paladins

Well, first of all, what even is a paladin? Sorin stops corruption and worker mistreatment but he still arrested Sam Ug, so Paladins seem to be different but very similar to cops where they arrest and investigate suspects. I don’t really know what makes Sorin as a paladin captain different from Pierce Steel. Sorin is a bastard too even if he was a socialist cop, however the hell that works.

The A Team

The A Team is like actual copaganda I think. A bunch of cool cops who know what they’re doing and do cool flips and shit while coming to take down the bad guy is such a stereotypically positive view of cops. It’s such a weird contrast with the entirety of the other cops in the series. Every single other one is either an idiot, comically serious, or Sorin who’s dead and also a socialist who hates corporations. They fully just do not fit in.

The One Shot

The one shot is when the Drawtectives literally interrogate witnesses with the help of cops arresting people. It is so out of character for the Drawtectives to be interrogating people honestly. Which by the way they should not be able to do legally unless they are actual cops so I don’t know what’s going on with Fancy Town’s policing system.

The real odd bit is Norm. Norm is a cop and is kind of just treated like a run of the mill guy. Harper is treated as unreasonable to freak out about the cop who arrested you walking towards you but tbh I get incredibly uncomfortable with law enforcement officers generally despite never having been arrested. I couldn’t imagine if you see the literal officer who once arrested you walking towards you in the park. Idk Norm is such a weird character and while I like his personality, the fact that he’s a cop is such an odd wrinkle in his whole thing that I can’t like him.

Also I mean hey at least the police aren’t afraid of treating other cops like suspects? That’s a positive.

Season 2

It has no cops. Not a one. Closest we get is Felix but he just thinks he's sending people home so, not really a cop.

Leland is arrested by cops with Jancy having called them but that’s kind of just the same issue as above with Jancy working with cops in general.

ACAB

#drawtectives #drawtectives spoilers #drawfee #my post

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hullomoon · 1 year

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hullomoon’s 2022 works: part eight

it’s the end of the year, which means it’s time for a work round-up! this year i really tipped into being podfic heavy (and more multifandom!). if you haven’t yet, check out my 2019 roundup, 2020 roundup, and 2021 roundup! all works are ordered in chronological posting order.

[podfic] amongst the rubble and stone | Stranger Things | Ronance | 46:59

When Alice finally gets the letter that tells her she’s been accepted into Emerson, they slowly send her all of the admissions information required as well as the information about her accommodation and her new roommate for freshman year. Someone called ‘Nancy Wheeler’ sounds both pretty harmless and like someone who would be, at the very least, easy to live with if not be friends with. So, going in, Alice isn’t expecting a ‘friends forever’ pact and camp-style braided bracelets, but she also isn’t expecting the girl that Nancy Wheeler ends up being.

[podfic] i got new rules (i count ‘em) | A League of Their Own | Greta-centric | 09:48

They become her unspoken rules, her sanctuary and her prison protected by armor of eyeliner and red lipstick:

One: Always be seen in the company of a man when you’re in public.

Two: Don’t get too close.

Three: Don’t fall in love.

[podfic] The Big Chill | Schitt’s Creek | David/Patrick | 1:40:34

David Rose learns to thaw while being chilled.

❄️ A modern-day Ice Age AU. ❄️

[Podfic] just a little bit of magic | Schitt’s Creek | Alexis/Twyla | 15:28

Twyla Sands has always known the day that she would meet her true love.

[podfic] exeunt ; enter stage | Stranger Things | Steve-centric | mature | 59:23

Nancy inhaled slowly as she took a meaningful step towards him. Steve's eyes flickered back over to her instinctively, and he got a firsthand view of how her face had crumpled, eyes wide and shining and worried. "Steve," Nancy said, slow, gentle, quiet, like she was trying to calm a cornered wild animal. "None of us said those things."

Steve's mouth opened, words piling on the tip of his tongue: what, so I was just hallucinating, then? he wanted to ask, nearly did ask, and then he realized—heart stopping in his chest and the floor very suddenly feeling like it had been ripped out beneath him—that was exactly what was happening.

Steve's jaw shut with a click.

"Oh," Steve breathed shakily. Oh, fuck.

Vecna curses Steve. As you could imagine, it isn't a very good time.

[podfic] and yet i love her | A League of Their Own | Max/Esther | mature | 15:27

“You need to get up now or I’ll be keeping you in bed all day,” Es says with a lascivious grin. It’s an empty threat, and they both know it - it’s not like they could ever risk being caught in here together, but it’s enough to make Max laugh and swing her legs over the edge of the bed.

“Save that for after we win the game,” she tells her, and begins to dress before they can distract each other.

('I love you', Esther said. No woman has ever told Max they love her before.)

----

Esther says 'I love you'; Max wonders if she's ready to say it back.

[podfic] i wanna make a supersonic man (out of you) | Stranger Things | Lucas & Steve | 22:01

Lucas is the man of the group, he knows this. He's got to be the man, like Steve, and wear polos and khakis and come between evil and the weak and be a lady killer and a charming, funny, sweet guy. Like Steve who has started hanging out with Eddie Munson and getting piercings and wearing eyeliner and not being the man Lucas thought he was.

“Steve is that an earring?” says Dustin, at one of his highest pitches, slap bang in the middle of one of Eddie’s tirades.

Everyone pauses. Number one, you never interrupt Eddie, especially not during D&D. Number two, what? (Lucas has strong suspicions he can’t let Max ever find out about this, or she’s going to break-up with him and become a full-time Steve admirer.)

They all lean forwards.

Steve shifts slightly uncomfortably, but he looks amused. “Yeah.” He shrugs. And there it is, a single tiny silver hoop in his left ear. Lucas stares, amazed.

“You’re a guy,” says Lucas, without thinking about it.

Steve only laughs. “I am aware, Lucas, thank you.”

[podfic] Exactly Like You | Check Please! | Bitty/Kent | 09:12

in which, Kent V Parson is an ENORMOUS sap. But quietly, inside his head, because he knows being all possessive and shit is not Healthy Relationship Goals and he is trying for that. Eric is worth trying for.

[podfic] Things We Do For Love | Stranger Things | Dustin & Steve, Steddie | 04:57

When Steve starts to feel a little left out of the 'nerd culture' talk and references, Dustin helps him catch up on the most important bits.

[podfic] Bells All Ring, Horns All Blow | Schitt’s Creek | David/Patrick | 01:24:43

“Um, I can’t—I’m not going home." Patrick says. "Not, ah, not this time. There’s a lot of ice in the forecast.” It feels just like the excuse it is when he says it out loud, and he remembers his mom’s disappointed oh over the phone earlier when he told her the same thing.

To his relief, David nods. Stevie looks at him funny, but she’s usually doing that so he doesn’t take it too personally. “That’s probably good,” David says.

“Just because you don’t want to move the overflow shelving on the twenty-sixth,” Patrick says, but David holds up a hand.

“It’ll be fun to have you around,” David says. It’s more honest than he usually is, which he realizes a few seconds after Patrick does, lips twisting up in self-deprecation.

Patrick nods hesitantly as a plan takes shape in his head. He thought for David’s birthday that maybe...but he can try again. He can do it right this time.

Or, Patrick and David find a different way to each other.

my 201st Schitt's Creek Work

#hullomoon podfics #ronance #alexis rose x twyla sands #greta gill #david rose x patrick brewer #steve harrington #stranger things #a league of their own #schitts creek #max x esther #lucas sinclair #bitty/kent #dustin henderson #steddie #long post

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skiller0dani · 3 years

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Old Prison Blues | Spencer Reid

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

smut | dom!spencer x bau!reader requests info w.c | 7.2k summary | when your husband Spencer gets released from Prison, he's much different then you remember.

I have it so bad for this man, enjoy! Also guys this piece made butterflies squirm in my belly lmao this one is so HOT it made me blush. Guys, it made me B L U S H. I need to go dunk myself in holy water to atone for this SIN. (just kidding lmao I'm agnostic).

you can see his bulge in this gif and I can't stop admiring looking at it.

When you were in college you'd been an undergraduate in Criminal Justice, so you were familiar with the effects Prison has on the psyche. In other words, you knew Spencer would come back different. No person could pass through Prison unscathed and frankly you'd be more concerned if he came back and nothing had changed at all. At home, he seemed to be relatively okay, and those 6 mandatory weeks of break had allowed him the rest he deserved. Nothing exciting had happened during those weeks, the only thing you did was curl up on the couch next to him and watch movies. You'd made up for all those weeks in Prison during the evenings when you would cling to him and cry out his name in ecstasy.

Spencer really did seem to be fine, until you returned to work. That's when you started to see all the ways Prison had hardened him.

At first, it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. If you were someone who knew Spencer well then you knew that he wasn't a man who was confident in his looks. When you and Spencer first got married he was insecure, and would be discouraged when you hung out with other guys. You wouldn't say he was jealous because jealously in itself requires a certain amount of anger. But when Spencer saw you around other men he wasn't angry, he was sad. Absolutely convinced you were going to leave him any second, despite you telling him you married him because you love him. Deep down, he always thought somebody would steal you from him even though you consistently reminded him how much you love him. That's just the kind of guy Spencer is.

Or, was.

The darkness that brews in Prison, the violent hatred, the anger seems to have followed Spencer to freedom. It has made a home in his chest, and while you're not worried about Spencer flying off the deep end and shooting an innocent, the anger reveals itself in much more subtle ways. It's in the way he clenches his jaw when he can't figure something out, or the blanching of his knuckles as he grips the steering wheel with a crushing force, it's the agitation in his eyes when he watches Alvez's knuckles brush against your lower back for the 3rd time since you two had arrived at the office this morning. The anger has adapted to civilian life like Spencer has, it's learned. It's subtle. Unfortunately you know Spencer almost better then he knows himself, you can tell when something is bothering him.

You slide your hands over his shoulders, and much to your surprise you feel him tense.

"You okay?" You know it's a stupid question, but you have to ask.

"Yeah, fine." Spencer's tone is clipped, shoulders rigid, back straight. Something is definitely bothering him. You squeeze his shoulders and begin to work at the tightened muscles, slowly easing them to relax. The tension flows out of him as he relaxes back in his desk chair, the frustration ebbing away slightly when his eyes catch your wedding ring. The object that binds you to him.

"Don't shut me out." You whisper, a soft plea in your voice. Spencer's heart wretches when he hears the fear in your tone, and one of his hands comes up to catch yours. He presses a chaste kiss to one of your knuckles before swiveling around to face you. You always find a way to soothe the violent, raging beast inside of him. Spencer's hands find your hips as he turns his gaze up to look at you.

"You're right I'm sorry. Just tense today." He says softly, and while there is a little lie to his words, his statement remains mostly the truth. He just leaves out the part where he pictures enacting varying forms of violence on Luke Alvez. The man who keeps unnecessarily touching his wife. You lean down to press a kiss to his forehead, your head snapping up when Garcia calls from the conference room.

"Got a case folks, and it's an ugly one." Her nose scrunches up into a frown before she turns into the room. You pull away from Spencer, yanking him to his feet by his hand. Luke sends you a playful wink as he trots up the stairs, and while you don't necessarily react to it, it still puts Spencer on edge. Deep down Spencer always knew you were way out of his league, but that never became clearer then when you came to visit him in Prison.

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

You were trembling as you lowered yourself into the chair. Dried tears were on your cheeks, and you haven't even seen Spencer yet. The last time you saw him was a few weeks prior after he first got back from Mexico. Seeing his wrists bound in those metal handcuffs had broken your heart in a way you never anticipated. You wrung your hands together, luckily when Penelope had made the visitation Chart she scheduled you as the first person to come see him. The plastic chair was uncomfortable, but what was worse was the plastic guard separating you from Spencer. The clock ticked loudly, it was clearly mocking you. Reminding you of the seconds you were losing with Spencer, reminding you of all the seconds he was spending in Prison.

When you hear the buzzer scream loudly, you nearly come out of your seat you're so excited to see him. You and Spencer got married back in 2005, and you've never been separated from him for longer then a week. It's been over a month now, and each day he's not with you leaves a bigger hole in your chest. You watch him follow the other prisoners out, and the handcuffs around his wrists breaks your heart. His eyes light up the second he sees you, he nearly shoves the other guy over to get to you faster. There are tears in your eyes as Spencer's wrists are released from the cuffs from the guard standing nearby.

"Hey baby." Spencer says softly as he takes his seat across from you. All you want is to reach across the stupid barrier and touch him, hold his hand, anything. But you know the guards will punish him if he does, but being this close to him without being able to hold him is absolutely killing you. You try to blink the tears out of your eyes so that Spencer won't see, but it's all too much. Seeing him in a jumpsuit, with cuff bruises around his wrists, having to sleep in the same building as murderers. The first tear falls and you immediately look away from him.

"Please don't cry." Spencer begs softly. "I'm okay, really."

You wipe your tears before you look back up at him, digging around in your bag for a gift from Henry. You smile when you see the happiness cross onto his face as you pull the piece of paper out.

"Henry drew this for you, it's from when you guys went to the park." You hold it up for him to see and you try to fight another onslaught of tears when you see his eyes misting.

"You know, when I get out of here we should have one." Spencer says it so casually, you almost miss it. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head as you carefully lower the drawing.

"You want to try for a baby?" You can't hide the smile, and you see Spencer's eyes shine for the first time since he's been in here.

"Yeah, I want to have a baby with you." You and Spencer had a brief conversation about kids a few years ago, and you knew Spencer wasn't ready for it back then. His Father ran out on him and Diana when Spencer was just a kid, it made Spencer insecure about the type of Father he would end up being. In Spencer's mind, a fatherless man would never make a good Father. But it seems he's changed his mind. You had no issues agreeing to wait before you had kids until he was ready, you always knew Spencer would be a fantastic Father.

Suddenly from Spencer's right you hear a low wolf whistle. The tenderness that was on Spencer's face is instantly wiped away. His expression tenses, his jaw clenching as he turns his gaze to a large burly looking man covered in tattoos. The man sitting across from him, the one who was visiting, looked similar. Both of the biker looking men were eyeing me hungrily, it made my skin crawl.

"Something I can help you with?" Spencer asks, his voice tense. The tension in the room grows tenfold, and you fight the instinct to try and scoot closer to Spencer. The Biker looks Spencer in the eyes, a taunting smile on his face.

"That your sister?"

"Wife." Spencer snaps instantly.

"Your wife?" The Biker says incrediously, Spencer raises a brow, daring him to continue. "There's no way a woman with an ass that tight would marry a man as scrawny as you."

You expected to see insecurity flash in Spencer's eyes, instead all you saw was rage. Unbridled, violent rage.

"Choose your next words carefully." Spencer's voice was low, and as sharp as the edge of a blade. You almost didn't recognize him. The Biker leaned forward, fueled only by the knowledge that he was getting under Spencer's skin.

"She as tight as she looks? If I wasn't locked up, I'd fuck her so good she wouldn't even remember what your little pecker feels like."

Spencer's jaw clenches, and his fists curl tightly. The Biker is about 2 words away from a broken nose.

"Baby just let it go." You plead, and normally you don't really use pet names in public but right now you needed to show him that you're his.

"I'll tell you what Klein, I'll fuck her for you and tell you how it felt." The other man says, the man visiting. Upon hearing the words come out of his mouth, Spencer is shoving up from the chair but almost instantly a guard is tightly gripping Spencer's shirt and shoving him back into the chair. Spencer is fuming, and there's nothing you can do to calm him down.

"If you so much as lay a finger on her, your friend here will be dead before you can have another visit." Spencer hisses, and the two large men chuckle.

Spencer instantly took you off the visitors list, and while that felt like a blow to your heart you understood why. You didn't want to stress him out by visiting him.

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

So, yeah, Spencer knew you were out of his league and when Luke pulled your chair out for you at the table before he had the chance to, it made his blood boil. Why is Luke trying to take care of you? Doesn't he know that Spencer has been released from Prison? You don't need anybody else to take care of you, your husband is more than capable of doing it himself. When Spencer sat down in the chair next to you, he rested one hand on your thigh. You're only slightly surprised, normally Spencer isn't this 'handsy' in public, but in recent weeks he's been more assertive around other men.

"The body of 23 year old Cassandra Richardson was found 2 weeks ago in Lincoln, Nebraska. Her body was mutilated and showed signs of sexual assault. Yesterday another body, 20 year old Francesca Williams was found around the same warehouse district with similar wounds to the first victim." Penelope rushes the words out, almost as though saying them pains her. Various images show on the screen of the two victims, both bloodied and battered.

"Other than similar injuries, what makes the local police think it's the same unsub?" Luke asks, his eyes flickering towards you for the briefest second. While Spencer was locked away, Luke became a shoulder to cry on. Normally when you were upset and Spencer wasn't around, you'd talk to Derek. But since he's been gone you've felt more isolated then you normally do. Luke had found you crying one morning before you had taken off, and ever since he's had an "older brother" protection over you.

"A tattoo on both of the victims thighs, the words 'temerata virginem' which is Latin for 'desecrated virgin'." With the click of a button on her remote, Penelope pulls up a photo of the tattoos. The lines are shaky, although they stay mostly straight.

"It almost looks professional, except the lines aren't perfectly straight. A professional would make the line work perfect." JJ says, examining the photo closer in the folder each of you received. You turn your gaze to Spencer when you feel his hand leave your thigh to examine the photo closer. You could practically see the gears turning in that beautiful mind of his.

"It's possible an outside source is causing a tremble in the unsubs hands, if he is a professional tattoo artist." Spencer mumbles, almost to himself. Sometimes when he's in deep concentration, he nearly forgets other people are in the room with him.

"Could be drugs-" Luke starts but is sharply cut off.

"Actually it's more likely to be alcohol, withdraw from other drugs would be too severe to operate the tattoo machine." Spencer snaps, causing a few heads to turn and look at him. Maybe under other circumstances someone would say something to him, but since Spencer got released from Prison only a few weeks ago, nobody says anything. Luke's eyebrows furrow together as he shoots Spencer a confused look, one Spencer chooses to ignore as his hand returns to your thigh. Spencer knows he's acting like a jerk but he can't help it, Luke needs to know who you belong to. Spencer had everything taken from him in Prison, he won't let anyone take you from him too.

"We've been personally asked by the local police to assist, so wheels up in 30." Emily concludes, shooting one more look at Spencer before everybody rises.

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

The tension on the jet is thick, you're absolutely sure everybody can feel it. Hardly anyone has interacted with Spencer, except to ask him a question about the case. You sit back against the couch, Luke sitting in one of the chairs at the table, and Spencer sitting on the arm of the chair next to you. In your hand was a nearly empty cup of coffee, and just as you move to refill, Luke rises with his own empty cup.

"Need a refill?" He asks, offering you a friendly smile.

"Yeah actually-"

"I got it." Spencer says abruptly, standing from where he was sitting. His eyes meet Luke's, silently challenging him. You try to be understanding, but you can't help but feel annoyed at Spencer. If he was acting like this to some random guy then that's one thing, but this is Luke. He's your friend, he's Spencer's friend. Luke, and the rest of the team, put everything on the line to free Spencer from Prison.

"It's cool man, I can do it-" Luke offers again, but Spencer isn't having it.

"I said I got it." Spencer reaches his hand out for your mug, which you instantly give to him. His eyes don't leave Luke's until he turns around and heads to the back of the jet to refill your coffee. Luke pauses for a few seconds, his eyes meeting yours and mirroring the same look of concern before he heads for the coffee pot as well. Luke isn't even upset by how Spencer is treating him, he- like everyone else, is worried about Spencer's psyche.

"What is going on with Spencer?" JJ whispers once she's sure Spencer is out of earshot. You shrug, your worried eyes landing on your husband. His posture is tense, almost defensive.

"Well can you blame him? In Prison, everything that's yours can and will be stolen by the other male inmates. Now that he's free, Spencer is being protective of his wife, someone that is his and can be taken by other men." Rossi says, always naturally a tad protective of Spencer.

"There isn't a man on this planet that would make me leave Spencer." You say defensively, although you know Rossi didn't mean anything by what he said.

"That might be obvious to you, but not to Spencer." JJ says, eyeing Spencer standing back near the coffee machine.

"Doing okay man?" Luke asks hesitantly as he moves to stand next to Spencer.

"Yep." Spencer says shortly, waiting for the pot to brew. Luke feels the tension rolling off Spencer in waves, and it's all being directed at him and he's not sure why.

"Look, if I've done something to upset you, just talk to me about it Reid." Luke's voice is gentle, understanding. Spencer's jaw clenches again as the pot finishes brewing and he refreshes your cup before reaching for the creamer.

"I'm fine Alvez. Really." Spencer says again, but Luke isn't willing to let this go yet.

"No Reid, you're not-"

"Stop flirting with my wife." Spencer's tone is firm, and the look in his eyes tells Luke just how on edge Spencer is.

"You got it." Luke agrees instantly, even though he was never flirting with you. But he knows that right now arguing with Spencer will only make things worse. Seemingly satisfied with Luke's answer, Spencer carries your cup back you, slinging an arm around you.

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

Spencer twists his wedding ring around his ring finger, something he does when he's stressed out or tense. You're currently sat in the interrogation room with the male suspect, a tattoo artist attending AA meetings, the tattoo on the first victim was the shakiest because he had just quit drinking. The other, more recent, victims tattoo's were more steady. The longer he stayed sober, the more his trembling faded. In Spencer's other palm is your wedding ring, you fit the physical preference of this killer perfectly, but he only went after single women. Emily thought sending somebody in fitting his victimology would throw him off enough to say something incriminating. In order for the rouse to work, you needed to appear single- meaning the wedding ring had to come off. The thought didn't settle well in Spencer's gut.

"You have to relax." JJ said suddenly from Spencer's right. He nearly ignored her but his frayed nerves were beginning to eat at him.

"I can't. Do you see the way he's looking at her?" Spencer was pacing back and forth in front of the one way glass like a caged animal, unable to take his eyes off of the train wreck happening in front of him.

"She can handle herself Spence." JJ insists gently, almost using a motherly tone to talk to him.

"She's mine!" And suddenly the crux of the issue comes to light, and Spencer pinches the bridge of his nose, releasing a heavy breath. JJ thinks about her words carefully, trying to find something to say that will calm him at least a little.

"Yeah, and nothing is going to change that Spencer. You need to relax, and you have to trust her. You're not in Prison anymore, nobody is going to take her from you." JJ says, looking him in the eyes. Suddenly the sound of metal screeching across a concrete floor sounds from behind Spencer and when he turns around, his blood boils hot in his veins. The suspect, Alan Baker, has shoved out of his chair and has started towards you.

"Spencer-" JJ's voice is distant, and comes too late. Spencer isn't listening to her anymore when his fist curls around the door handle and he nearly rips it off its hinges.

"You need to step back." Spencer snaps, reaching for his gun as Alan Baker backs you into the corner of the interrogation room. You weren't ever truly afraid, you could have handled Alan. Slowly, Alan backs away from you and Spencer instantly reaches for you. He leads you out of the room with a gentle but firm hand on your back. Once you're out of the interrogation room you turn to Spencer.

"What the hell? I could have dealt with him!" You insist, frustration laced in your tone. At this point JJ silently slips out of the room, giving you and Spencer some much needed privacy. Spencer crosses his arms as he leans back against the one way mirror.

"You didn't need to, I did." Spencer huffs and you seriously resist the urge to throw something at him.

"What is your problem today? You could have compromised my entire interrogation, he's never going to tell me anything now!" You snap, anger pinching at your features.

"Good! Now you have no reason to talk to him again." Spencer snaps back, can't you see that he's just protecting what's his?

"Spencer we're trying to save somebody! You're being selfish!" You say to him angrily, trying your best not to start yelling at him. Spencer's selfish possessiveness over you could have just ruined your entire investigation.

"This is why the Bureau was hesitant to reinstate you. They were scared you wouldn't be able to control yourself." You snap at him, crossing your arms.

"Are you saying they made a mistake?" Spencer asks incrediously, suddenly becoming defensive.

"Maybe they did. Because you're acting like an asshole right now. You've been a jerk to Luke the entire day when he busted his ass to help get you out of Prison and back to me! Since when have you not trusted me during an interrogation? What did you think was going to happen? That I was going to let him touch me? I thought you trusted me." You cry out, tears filling your eyes now. Spencer didn't say anything as you turned for the door, anger still laced in his features.

"This has nothing to do with me not trusting you-"

"If you don't trust me, then maybe you should just hold onto my wedding ring for a while. I don't want it." You snap quietly, and you regret the words the second they leave your lips. No matter how mad he makes you, you'd never leave Spencer. You watch Spencer's expression shift from anger to...hurt. He watches silently as you slam the door behind you. Prison has turned him into somebody he isn't, and Spencer doesn't know how to turn off this part of his brain. The part telling him that you belong to him, and that he needs to protect what's his.

Rossi catches the sight of your tear stained cheeks as you move back towards the kitchen in the precinct. You wipe your tears as he comes to stand beside you, and the look on his face tells you that he overheard your fight with Spencer. Rossi bumps you with his elbow gently, a small smile on his face.

"You don't look okay." He says softly and you let out a self-depreciating laugh.

"I'm not. I don't know how to help Spencer, he doesn't trust me." You say sadly, your heart breaking in your chest.

"It's not you he doesn't trust, it's other men." Rossi clarifies, although it does little to ease the pain. You reach up to brush your hair behind your ear when Rossi catches your hand, examining your ring finger.

"Where's your wedding ring?"

"Told Spencer I didn't want it." The words are laced with heavy regret, and when you remember the look on his face when you said it you almost start to cry again. Rossi wraps an arm around you, and you lean your head on his shoulder.

"Deep down, he knows you didn't mean it." He tries to reassure you.

"That's the problem, he probably thinks I meant it."

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Normally it only takes you and Spencer a few hours to smooth things over after a fight. But this time, it's been nearly 3 hours and you haven't spoken a word to each other. You're both working on searching through Alan Baker's financial records without speaking at all. Neither of you have said anything, and Spencer still has your wedding ring. You desperately want it back, but you don't know how to start that conversation. You're angry about how he's been treating everybody, and you feel like asking for your ring is accepting defeat. You're not ready to accept defeat. When Emily comes into the room, her eyes settle on the two of you.

"Okay, what's going on with you guys?" Her arms are crossed.

"Nothing." The word comes from both yours and Spencer's mouths at the same time, and you say it far too quickly. Emily raises one brow at the two of you before closing the door behind her.

"Alright I'm going to have to be a boss now. We are not going to lock this guy away if the two of you are fighting. We need everybody on their A-game. Fix it. Now, and I mean right now." She says, leaving the room but closing the door behind her. There's a suffocating silence that fills the room, both you and Spencer too stubborn to speak first. But you can't take it, you hate it when he's mad at you. You hate it when you guys fight, which isn't often but it does happen occasionally.

"I didn't mean it." You whisper, leaning on the table, facing away from him. Spencer doesn't say anything but you know he's listening.

"I didn't mean it Spencer, I want my ring." He'd be lying if he said he wasn't relieved to hear you say that, his entire world crashed down around him the second you told him to keep the ring. The irrational part of his brain told him you were going to divorce him.

"Can I please have it back?" You ask, barely turning your head to look at him. With a huff Spencer pushes away from the table to move in front of you. His eyes are focused on your hand, he has yet to look at you. Spencer fishes around in his pocket before he finds your ring and gently slides it onto your ring finger.

"You have to stop glaring at any man that gets to close to me, especially Luke." You tell him, but he continues to look away from you. Spencer pushes past you to stand near the windows, his back facing you. The thing about Spencer is that he's stubborn, really stubborn. You take a few steps towards him, nibbling on your lower lip.

"I love you Spencer, I'm sorry. I was an ass, but you acted like an ass too." You tell him, but Spencer only turns his head further away from you. You move to stand in front of him, but his eyes turn to the ground and his arms are crossed tightly. Seriously?

"Please talk to me Spencer, tell me what's going on." You can see the frustration laced in his features, there's something on the tip of his tongue that he needs to say.

"Spencer."

"After you left from your visit, do you know why I didn't let you come back?" Spencer snaps, his hands finding your shoulders to yank your body against his. Your chest collides with his and suddenly you feel a dampness building between your legs. You instantly turn to putty in his hands.

"I didn't let you come back because that asshole told everybody about you. Told everybody what a tight little body you have. Soon the entire cell block was fantasizing about my 'sexy wife'. Do you have any idea what it's like to listen to men constantly talk about fucking your wife?" Spencer's voice is tense, but you can see it. The lust building behind his eyes, the frustration, and the fear of losing you simmering underneath it all.

"N-No." Your voice is breathy, and your eyes are lidded as Spencer's hands slide up your arms to your shoulders.

"It's fucking hell Y/N. Every time I see any man look at you I want to rip his eyes out, and I can't turn it off. I've tried, and the way that Alvez looks at you- it drives me fucking crazy." Spencer snaps, the anger building by the second. Your entire body begins to hum with an intense need, and Spencer can see it in your eyes. Spencer releases you then and he turns for the door, at first you're afraid he's going to leave but instead he locks the door. Luckily it's late, so the police station is more deserted then it is during the day. Turning back to you, Spencer reaches for the blinds next and you can't help but follow his every movement with your eyes.

"Get on your knees." Spencer says suddenly, and you freeze in shock. Did he just say...?

"Get. On. Your. Knees." Spencer says again through clenched teeth, leaning back against the table, heat simmering in his eyes. His hands grip the edge of the table and you feel a throb from between your legs. Quickly you scramble onto your knees in front of him, your hands reaching up to undo his belt. Once the belt is unfastened, you're quickly unbuttoning his dress slacks, your eagerness making your hands a bit clumsy. Spencer has never been this dominant during sex, but you have no complaints. He has your knees weak and he hasn't even touched you. You quickly dip your hand into his boxers to pull his hardening cock out. As soon as his cock is freed, your lips are wrapping around the head. Spencer's head tosses back in ecstasy.

"Your lips look so pretty stretched around my cock. Those bastards could only imagine having you on your knees for them." Spencer snaps, his hand weaving into the hair at the back of your head. You moan softly around him at his crude words, slowly sliding down his cock. Spencer groans when he feels your tongue laving the underside of his cock, along the vein that runs from base to tip. Apparently feeling impatient, Spencer pushes your head further down his cock. He feels his tip right at the entrance of your throat, and with one gentle thrust he breaches your throat and his cock slides all the way into your mouth.

"Fuck," Spencer hisses, and Spencer does not curse often. So the fact that you have been able to draw curses from his mouth is nothing short of a miracle. Spencer's chest heaves slightly as you gag lightly around him, drawing another deep groan from his chest. You feel nearly desperate to please him, you need to make him cum. You want him to fucking pound you, you want him to use your body for his pleasure. You want him to release all of his frustration out on you, you want to be sore when he's done.

"You're mine. This is my body to touch and admire, my tight pussy to stretch open, mine." Spencer growls, thrusting gently to meet your hasty movements. You whimper around his cock, gagging slightly again as spit dribbles down your chin. Your eyes are wide and watery as you look up at him, and the sight of you nearly causes him to blow his load. You just look so fucking beautiful on your knees in front of him, drool on your chin and your mouth full of cock. It's a sight he will never forget. You move your head faster, keeping your eyes locked on his. Spencer squeezes the edge of the table, his head tossing back when his orgasm hits him. You feel his cum shooting in spurts to the back of your throat and you swallow every drop. Once you pull off him, Spencer is grabbing your elbows to pull you to stand.

Spencer's hands are reaching for the button of your dress slacks as his mouth presses messily to yours. Spencer's tongue pushes into your mouth, his hands pushing your pants down and you kick them off. Instantly, Spencer's fingers are sliding into your panties and through your slick folds. You whine loudly against his mouth, your eyes fluttering shut as his palm roughly cradles the back of your head.

"Need to make sure you know who you belong to." Spencer snaps as he pulls away from you, quickly pushing two long fingers into your dripping hole. You cry out before Spencer is slapping a hand over your mouth, your back pressed against the wall. Spencer's slender frame is leaning against you, effectively trapping you against the wall and his body. Your eyes are rolling when Spencer's finger crook inside of you while roughly thrusting into you.

"Gotta be quiet, wouldn't want Luke to catch us now would we?" Spencer breathes in the shell of your ear, sending goosebumps spreading over your skin. You are completely at Spencer's mercy and you wouldn't have it any other way. The pleasure shooting through you goes rocketing up your spine when Spencer scissors his fingers inside of you. You're mumbling incoherently against his palm, desperate pleas not to stop, to please let you cum. Your entire body is flushed, and you feel sweat on your skin like a sheen layer over you. Spencer feels you begin to squeeze around his fingers and he replaces his palm with his mouth, swallowing all of your moans and desperate cries.

Your back is arching as your high approaches, and you climb higher and higher to meet it. Spencer never lets up, his fingers steadily pumping into you and his lips muffling all of your cries of pleasure. The sounds you make are music to his ears, they tell him that you will always be his, no matter what childish fears he has. Your hands come up to unbutton the buttons on Spencer's dress shirt, you need to feel more of him. Before you can finish undressing your husband, his fingers nudge your cervix and you instantly clamp around his fingers, your body convulsing.

"You look so beautiful when you cum." Spencer praises, his cock rock hard again. He needs to be inside of you as soon as humanely possible. Spencer pulls away from you to grasp the base of his cock, no need to bother with protection. The two of you already agreed that you want to try for a baby anyway.

"Please baby, please get inside me. How could you think I'd ever leave you? I love you, and nobody could make me cum like you can." You moan desperately, turning to bend over the table. Spencer's hand runs up your spine, enjoying the way you wriggle your hips in search of his cock. There are butterflies squirming in your stomach as you spread your legs apart wider for him, but he still doesn't bring his cock closer to you.

"Oh c'mon Spence don't do this please. Baby, fuck me." You plead, nearly sobbing as you shamlessly beg. He presses his tip against your soaked entrance and you whine. You hear fabric rustling around and you turn your head just in time to see him pull his tie from around his neck.

"I needed to hear you beg for me, and this is to keep you quiet. As much as I love the sounds you make when I'm inside you, I can't let anyone else hear you." Spencer says, his voice low and rumbling from his chest. You open your mouth to let him tie the silk fabric in your mouth. You try to whimper but you gag around the tie in your mouth, and you see a pleased smile cross onto Spencer's face. Your fingers grasp at the edge of the table as you impatiently wait for Spencer to push into you. You feel his glorious cock nestled at your entrance, the tip barely nudging in. You feel another wave of slick gush out of you and Spencer is running his tip through your already drenched folds. Such a tease.

You whine softly, trying to push back against him. Spencer chuckles darkly before his hands grasp your hips to hold you steady. With one firm thrust, Spencer is breaching your folds and sliding deep inside you. You feel heat searing through you, your head dropping to the table as you whimper through the burn. The stretch burns more then you anticipated, and you hear Spencer groaning softly, which sends another wave of liquid heat rushing through you.

"God you feel so good baby, you take my cock so fucking well." Spencer praises, gently pulling out to slowly thrust back in. His eyes are locked on the place where you two connect, watching with hooded eyes as his cock disappears inside you.

"I wish you could see this baby, I love watching you take my cock." He praises through a soft moan, and you drink up every sound he makes. Spencer needed this so bad and you love the fact that you can give him a type of relief nobody else on the planet can give him. Spencer steadily thrusts into you when you both hear footsteps slowly passing outside the room. You expect Spencer to stop, to pull out of you and start redressing but he doesn't. He slows his pace considerably, but he still slowly thrusts into you.

"Shh, I would hate for whoever that is to see my cock buried in your pretty pussy." Spencer whispers as he leans forward to whisper in your ear. You struggle to contain the whimpers, but somehow you remain completely silent as Spencer gently thrusts into you. Once whoever it is passes by, Spencer resumes his quicker thrusts. His pelvis hits your ass with enough force to send you lurching across the table and your fingers scramble to find purchase against the smooth surface.

"This is my pussy, you're my wife, you're mine. Not Luke's, not that dick from the Prison. Mine." Spencer says, punctuating the words with a sharp thrust into you. You wished you could answer him, that you could cry to the heavens that you belong to Spencer Reid- that you never want to belong to anybody else. You settle for squeezing his cock whenever it returns to your velvety warmth, chanting the same word in your head over and over.

Yours yours yours yours yours.

Your forehead presses against the table, muffled and strangled cries escaping your lips every time Spencer hits deep inside you. His cock stretches you perfectly, and always hits places deep inside you. Places you didn't know existed. Soon you feel your orgasm creeping up on you, and you feel lightheaded so you reach up to yank the tie away from your mouth.

"Please make me cum Spence, I'm so close baby please don't stop." You beg, muffling your moans with your palm as he drives his cock into you. You feel sweat covering your entire body and Spencer holds your hips with a bruising force. You feel that coil winding tighter and tighter, and you release a high pitched whine when Spencer's hand snakes around your body to thumb your clit.

"Oh Spencer your cock feels so good, soo good baby. Always feels so good, fuck baby I love you," You're not sure what you're saying at this point, an incoherent mess of praises for the man above you. Spencer loves when he reduces you to this, speaking in a jumble of words and disconnected statements because you can't think with his cock inside you.

"I, shit, I love you-" Spencer gasps, slamming his cock inside you and rolling your clit before you're squeezing around him tightly, your mouth falling open in a silent scream. You cum in hot gushes around him and Spencer can only offer a few more stuttering thrusts before he's cumming with a loud growl, coating your walls in his hot cum. Spencer keeps his cock inside you, ensuring his cum stays inside you. He wants to get you pregnant. His palms gently hold your hips, and all the frustration he's felt all day has completely disappeared. His chest is heaving from the exertion but he feels more relaxed then he has all day. There's a smile on your face and your eyes are closed as your legs finally give out and you collapse against the table.

"You okay?" You hear Spencer's voice, and you can't help but smile when you hear that he's panting slightly. You hum with a smile on your face.

"I'm amazing." You mumble back, feeling Spencer begin to gently massage your back. You love enjoying the afterglow with him, even if you're laying on a table. Slowly Spencer pulls out, but he groans softly when he sees his cum inside your pussy. He reaches to the floor to pull your panties and dress slacks back up your legs and he quickly tucks himself back into his pants. He buttons the 4 buttons you managed to open on his shirt before he's gently pulling you to stand.

"You sure you're alright?" Spencer asks, concern in his eyes. You nod with a smile, but when he releases his hold on your shoulders, you feel your legs tremble and give out underneath you. Spencer immediately catches you and sets you down on the table. You laugh softly.

"Guess you fucked me good."

"Sorry." Spencer says sheepishly, but you press a chaste kiss to his lips.

"Don't be, that had to have been the best sex we've had in a long time." You mumble against his lips and Spencer hums in agreement. Reaching for his tie, Spencer shoves it in his pocket before he pokes his head out of the room you guys just defiled.

"Spencer, I'm so sorry about what I said. I love you so much, I didn't mean what I said about my ring-" You blubber suddenly, drawing Spencer's attention to you. He cradles your head against his chest, pressing kisses to your forehead.

"I know baby, it's okay. I love you." Spencer answers quietly, holding you to him tightly.

"I'm sorry I was a jerk today. I'm just so protective of you. I can't let anything steal you from me." Spencer admits softly and you cup his cheeks to make him look at you. There is a sadness in his eyes that you want to obliterate, you can't stand it when he's sad. It breaks your heart.

"Nothing could steal me from you. I only want you Spencer." You say quietly and you see tears misting his eyes. He presses his lips desperately against yours, and you feel tears cascading down yours and his cheeks. The kiss is wet, but it's passionate and you throw every ounce of love you have for this man into it. When you and Spencer part, your foreheads are pressed together.

"Hey Spence? How am I gonna get to the hotel. I can't walk." You say softly with a giggle and Spencer smiles mischievously.

"I guess I'll have to carry you." He scoops you bridal style into his arms then and you blush deeply when he carries you out of the room and towards the front entrance.

"Spencer! Everybody is going to know!" You whisper into his ear and he chuckles.

"Good."

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer x y/n #spencer x you #post prison spencer #jealousy #possessive #criminal minds #smut #spencer reid x you #spencer x reader #jealous smut

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hopeless-ro-simptic · 4 years

Text

Familiar Cerulean Eyes Pt. 6

Click here for other parts! Part 7 is up now!

Just gonna leave this here...

Warnings! Seriously read this before continuing!: This part contains an attempted rape scene. Please just skip to the next part if you are uncomfortable reading that.

Word Count: 3.3 k

TAGLIST: @skzero-99 @superblyspeedydragon @jparra4587 @flyingowls @emrysaaryn @imuziawi @sheedaabee @peculiarinsomniac @littlelovebug98 @plutoneu @giftofwonder @kitty-kat-ash @fukyouthink @anarchys-bnha-mess @threbony @orenjineki @toobsessedsstuff @bamf-barnes @x-a-delama-x @inanabsentia @reallyshey @godsblesstheboi @operatorsdime @drownedbytears @emilymikado @fluidfandoms

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The walkie-talkie they had provided to you only had one station. The station that spoke directly to Kurogiri. You had tried fiddling with the knobs to see if you could get literally anyone else on the line but after 30 minutes of messing with the stupid thing you gave up. At least it told you the date and time so you could keep track of how long it has been since you were left alone in this damned cell.

You hadn’t moved from your spot in the corner since everyone left, curled up with your snack bag and blanket, using the pillow to prop yourself up against the cold wall, choosing instead to sleep the time away. Your body however decided you could only sleep for so long. Apparently 14 hours was the mark. 14 hours of off and on sleeping and now all you could do was pace.

You never thought you would be bored when you were kidnapped, but if you had to go one more minute with nothing to do you were going to start trying to dig your way out of this cell with your fingernails. So you caved.

Picking up the walkie-talkie you pressed the call button and cautiously spoke out loud into the room.

“Kurogiri?”

The mist beta conjured himself into the room within seconds, well dressed as always. A calming aura surrounding him.

“Yes Y/N? What can I do for you?”

Your cheeks heated up as you thought about your request, suddenly feeling like a child. You didn’t want to come off as whiney, you definitely didn’t want the League to deem you as annoying and decide to kill you. But you were so bored. Bored enough to threaten your life with the company of villains.

“H-hi… um… I just wanted to know if there was like…I just wanted…”

“Company?” The knowing eyes of the mist in front of you was a little unsettling as he immediately guessed as to what you wanted.

“H-how did you know?”

“Omega’s are very social beings, it’s a wonder you lasted this long with nothing to do…and you have been pacing for the last 45 minutes” You glanced up at the camera a shiver going down your spine.

“You’ve been watching me?”

“Only for a brief bit, I was concerned when you didn’t reach out earlier for food. I am surprised it took your this long to reach out for anything at all. I was simply checking to make sure you were alive.”

You relaxed a bit at this. The beta didn’t seem in a hurry to get out of here, and even though he was a villain, you were more than happy for the company. So you sat back down in your nonexistent nest, pushing your hair behind your ears as you thought of how to keep a conversation going.

“So you have to babysit me.. I bet that’s annoying.” You cringed at your words. Why would you say that? What were you supposed to say to a villain to strike up a conversation?

“Not at all, Y/N. I have many jobs here at the league, making sure our guests are fed and comfortable is just another thing that I have been tasked with. If it makes one of our members happy then it makes me happy. Dabi seemed particularly concerned with your treatment while he was gone.”

“Oh…” You paused for a minute unsure of how to proceed. It sounded like Kurogiri did a lot for the league, you wondered why.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You may, though I may not be able to answer it.” He nodded at you to proceed and you fiddled with the blanket in front of you.

“Why are you a ..” You paused, unsure if this was a good way to start, only to be encouraged by the mist in front of you. “Why did you join the league? You don’t strike me as the same as the others.”

“Well Y/N, I have been with Shigaraki for some time now, long before this group was formed... I believe in his cause, and I want to help him achieve it. The hero society is not as pretty as it seems from the outside, I promise you that.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” You mumbled it softly, enough that if you weren’t in a completely silent room you don’t think you would have even heard yourself. But the beta in front of you didn’t miss your comment.

“The question is Y/N, what side of the fight are you going to choose to be on.”

“I’m not in the fight.. I’m not a hero..” You looked at Kurogiri, confusion across your face.

“Everyone is in the fight… even if they don’t want to be.”

Kurogiri had brought you a deck of playing cards after that little chat, advising you of how to set up a solitaire game to keep yourself busy. You couldn’t help but feel grateful for the kindness he was showing you. Even though you were literally their prisoner right now, he did seem like he was trying to make you as comfortable as he could.

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The next time that you called on Kurogiri was because you ran out of food several hours later. Part of you felt really bad, whispering softly into the walkie-talkie that showed a time of 4am. You didn’t want to wake the villain up, but your stomach was growling so loud you couldn’t sleep. You had just resigned yourself to the fact that you would have to wait until a more appropriate time when the black mist swirled in front of you, the man appearing with what looked like a freshly made bowl of meat and veggies with rice balls on the side. The smell had your mouth watering as he presented the bowl to you.

“I’m so sorry to wake you up this late Kurogiri, you didn’t have to cook…” You immediately dug into the food after thanking him, your stomach thanking you for waking him up anyways.

“No worries Y/N, I wasn’t asleep. We are quite used to being up late at night here, and I usually cook for the other members anyways when time permits.” You had to force yourself not to imagine the mist man in an apron, doting on the other league members like a mother would a young child. He was so different. You also ignored the way he mentioned the other members, like he was already considering you as one as well.

“Is Dabi back yet? Is he okay?” You didn’t even notice yourself asking the question as you continued to eat, just glad for company once again, after your chat last time, it was easier to slip into conversation with Kurogiri, but still a little awkward.

“He has not returned yet, but he has checked in and is fine. He should be returning tomorrow afternoon if all goes well with his mission.”

That’s good you thought, you were halfway through this. Just another day and a half and then you could at the very least have a semi-comfortable bed. You found yourself missing the cinnamon scent mixed with smoke and whiskey, like your omega couldn’t relax without it, finding a comfort in the warm and spicey smell that you shouldn’t have. Maybe you should have had him scent the blanket for you…

“May I ask just who you are to Dabi? I must say we are all quite confused on the two of you’s relationship seeing as you are not bonded.”

“Hmm? Oh…” You could feel your cheeks heat up, realizing you were daydreaming again. You had been thinking about those blue eyes a lot when you were by yourself, the handwriting on his note etched into your mind, it nagging you in the back of your mind like you were missing something about it. You were still upset at the alpha, but your omega was polluting your mind with thoughts that you rather ignore, images being burned into your brain at his words before he left.. he wasn’t wrong. You did want him. You just didn’t want to want him.

“It’s nothing…. He just kidnapped me is all...” That’s all you thought, just a villain kidnapping a random omega off the street. You snorted internally at how silly that sounded while your omega was yearning for him. Maybe you have Stockholm syndrome.

“Interesting…” Kurogiri looked like he was about to say something else, when the familiar click of a walkie-talkie sounded, a voice ringing out.

“Kurogiri, ready for pickup.”

“Ah, it seems Mr. Compress has finished his part. I will return later for your dishes Y/N. Please enjoy your meal.” And with that, the mist man disappeared again without a trace.

Once Kurogiri had gone, and you had finished up your meal, you curled up onto the crappy mattress, pulling the blanket tight around yourself as you cuddled up against his pillow, breathing in the scent as you replayed every moment since you woke up in his room, thinking of those familiar cerulean eyes as you drifted back to sleep.

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You were playing solitaire, like Kurogiri had shown you, several hours later when you decided to check the time again for what was probably the sixth time in the last hour. You glanced at the time on the walkie-talkie, trying to decide if you wanted to bother Kurogiri again for some more food, when you heard a creak. Looking up you noticed that the wall was opening up and in stepped Mr. Compress, a hot plate of food in his hands, only for him to close the wall behind him, locking it in place his scent enveloping the room immediately.

So there was a door.

“Hello Y/N, Kurogiri said you would probably be hungry around this time. He’s a little busy right now so he sent me instead.”

You shuffled in your place on the bed, you weren’t expecting this, to have to deal with another alpha by yourself. You didn’t trust the alpha in front of you but he wasn’t lunging at you to kill you, and Kurogiri and Dabi had been nice so far..and he brought food. He sat the plate down at the end of the bed, bowing to you lowly glancing up through his eyelashes a polite smile on his face. This one wasn’t as comforting as the mist mans but it wasn’t threatening either.

“I don’t believe I got to properly introduce myself last time we spoke. I’m Mr. Compress.”

“H-hi… thank you for the food.” You expected the alpha to leave it at that and disappear back the way he came, but instead he straightened up, twirling his cain in his hands as he watched you with interest.

“What an interesting quirk you have, might I say. We were all very shocked at the little show that you and pretty boy put on.” The smile on his face grew wider as you cautiously reached for the plate of food, taking a whiff of the air. He was pumping out his pheromones like an omega in heat, like he was trying to cover every other smell in this tiny room. It wasn’t a particularly unpleasant smell, you think it was a mix of amber and leather, but there was something about it that made your omega tense up. It was like he was peacocking and you could only guess at why.

“So you and Dabi? What’s going on there, that is of course, if you don’t mind the intrusion?”

Your omega chirped in the back of your brain, encouraging you to claim Dabi as your alpha, if only to get this other alpha to back down. You ignored it though, telling yourself that the alpha in front of you was being nothing but kind to you. He hadn’t done anything remotely threatening to you, like Kurogiri he was probably just trying to make you more comfortable and was looking for gossip, he seemed like the type.

“Nothing…”

“Hmm… see I don’t believe that, and neither does anyone else in the league. You see, we’ve never seen Dabi act so… interested in an Omega before. Can’t say I blame him, you do smell delicious.” You could feel his eyes slowly moving across your form, drinking you in much like Dabi had done a few times now, but this felt different. The alpha in front of you had a weird look on his face that made your chest tighten and not in a good way. You had seen a similar look before from alpha’s.

“I don’t know what you mean. I barely know Dabi..” You shifted uncomfortably under the alpha’s gaze, your heartrate picking up as you glanced briefly at where the door had been. Your omega was taking over, the alarms in your brain ringing louder. Were you sure it was locked? He had to get out of here somehow, meaning you could get out too.

“Oh? Well in that case, why don’t I get you out of here? There’s no need for a pretty little omega like you to be cooped up in this cage, waiting on a disfigured manchild. Wouldn’t you like that? A chance to get out of here.”

You stayed silent as the alpha leaned down to you flicking your eyes back to his own, his gloved hand reaching up to stroke your cheek gently before he lightly grabbed your hand, lifting it to his lips in a gentle kiss.

“I-I’m good right here.. I’ll wait for Dabi..” The charming alpha stood up, straightening his glove as his lips a sigh leaving his mouth.

“Why would you want to stay here? In a cell, waiting for the walking cigarette? I can provide so much more for you, you just need to say the word and I could treat you like a queen.”

“I-I’m okay… Dabi will be back in a couple hours…actually if you could leave I really need to go to the bath-” you were standing up, the words barely leaving your mouth as you watched the façade in front of you crack. You weren’t prepared for the wind to be knocked out of you, his cane jabbing you in the stomach forcing you to drop to your knees holding your stomach gasping for breath as he looked down at you.

“Look, I tried to ask nicely but you’re apparently too dumb to get the hint little omega. You are coming with me, you are going to be mine, and you are going to like it.”

Compress gripped your wrists pulling you up to be standing, an annoyed look on his face as you struggled against him. You immediately raised your knee up in reaction, hitting him right in the crotch. You expected him to go down. To let you go. You only succeeded in making him more angry. He slammed you harshly against the wall with a sickening thud, your vision going blurry at the pain in the back of your head. You were pretty sure that you were bleeding. He pushed you stomach down onto the mattress, your face landing down onto the pillow thankfully, instead of the wall behind it. He dropped down on top of you, his weight holding you down from behind, immediately trapping your legs with his own to stop you from kicking at him again. He leaned down, running his nose up along your scent glands, his tongue following shortly after.

“Don’t fight it. If you’re good maybe I’ll even end your suffering and bond you like someone should have a long time ago.”

You couldn’t help but let out a soft whimper, your hands reaching up searching around wildly for the one thing that could save you, gripping the fur blanket.

Compress smirked at your response as he scented you heavily to the point where you were dripping in the smell of leather, softly cooing in your ear at an attempt to sooth your omega. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to smell like that burnt idiot anymore.” You could feel the tears welling in your eyes as you wriggled against him, you didn’t want this. You didn’t want the smell to go away. You deeply inhaled the pillow in front of you, trying to block out your senses, only for Compress to snatch the pillow away with a growl. His alpha canines leaning in close to your face as he wrapped his hand into your hair yanking hard on it.

“What did I just say my dear?”

“Please..”

“Darling, quit whining. What do you think Dabi was going to do to you? Wouldn’t you rather it be me instead of that walking patchwork? At least this way you can have pretty pups to entertain yourself with, I doubt that ashtray can even breed.” He was yanking down your sweatpants now, ripping the drawstring that held them tight around your waist. You could feel his eyes roaming along your body, could feel his erection twitch when he noticed the lack of layers to deal with.

You wanted to vomit. Reaching your hands further under the fur blanket you finally found what you were looking for. Dragging the walkie-talkie out from under the blanket you clicked the call button and sobbed into it.

“Help me! Da- Dabi! Help!” You were practically screaming into the microphone, hiccupping through your tears, but Mr. Compress snatched the walkie-talkie away from you throwing it against the wall and shattering it with the force.

“Naïve Omega, no one is coming for you. Stay still” The alpha’s voice rang out and you froze your omega immediately tucking tail at the demand. You couldn’t help it. You fought as hard as you could against your instincts forcing you to listen to the alpha, begged your body to move, to react, to fight back. You heard the zipper of his pants, felt it as he shoved them down past his knees, his legs rubbing against you as he moved, felt his erection hot against your skin as he lined it up to your entrance, not even bothering to prepare you for what was to come. All you could do was lay there and hiccup through your tears and snot and pray that this would be over quickly. You knew better than that though. You had heard the stories of what happens when an alpha goes into a rut. How they can and will go for hours on end until they finally run out of steam. How they usually tended to go a little more feral than normal, and sometimes ended up hurting omega’s especially if they didn’t want it.

You knew that you would rather die in this moment then have to live through the next few hours, but you wouldn’t have such luck. So instead you let your mind wander, focusing on the smallest hint of cinnamon coming from the pillow behind you across the room. Focusing on the singular word that was etched into your brain as clear as day, the handwriting nagging at you. Focusing on the blue eyes that haunted your dreams that were too close to the ones that had been trained on you when you woke up in his apartment just the other day covered in soot and the smell of smoke. You closed your eyes, bracing yourself, a single thought on your mind, of two boys with cerulean eyes.

You could vaguely hear the sound of an anguished scream in the back of your mind, but you ignored it and focused on the growing smell of cinnamon, whiskey and smoke. Lot’s of smoke. You felt warm, uncomfortably so, but you forced yourself to ignore it, focusing on the feeling of floating away.

Your eyes fluttered open looking up at a familiar red-head, cerulean eyes staring down at you with worry. He had you cradled in his arms, and didn’t look like he was going to let you go any time soon. He was saying something… maybe your name?

“Touya... I had the weirdest dream…”

“Y/N thank god, stay awake for me princess, it’s okay, you’re okay.”

“You died…. And I got kidnapped… and then… Touya it was a nightmare.” You felt your eyes fluttering shut again, your head really hurt. Everything was so bright.

“No, don’t go to sleep yet, princess come on wake up.”

“Touya... please don’t leave me.”

With that you were out, the world going black.

#bnha omegaverse #alpha dabi #omega reader #bnha #mha #mha omegaverse #dabi is a todoroki #dabi is touya #dabi #dabi x y/n #dabi x female reader #dabi x you #dabi x reader #crispy

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mrsalenko · 3 years

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ME1, Shepard/Kaidan, Shepard/Toombs, Jealousy.

Kaidan first noticed something was weird when Toombs said quietly to Shepard, “Your hair grew out, Shepard. Looks good.”

They had sat around waiting for pick-up from the Alliance for the former doctor turned prisoner. Kaidan sat on a crate, his gun held casually in his lap, as a warning and deterrent to Doctor Wayne to not try anything stupid. Shepard had none too gently bound his hands behind his back and shoved him to sit against a wall. Then she split off to speak to Toombs quietly down a dark corridor. Kaidan had thought nothing of it. They were from the same unit, he was sure they had a lot to speak about.

That’s when he heard it. He turned slightly to watch them, intrigued despite telling himself it was none of his business.

They were standing too close together, closer than old comrades would. Kaidan frowned.

“Greg…”

Toombs rubbed a hand over his face. “It’s been so long. At first I thought the Thresher Maws had got you.”

“I am so fucking sorry,” she was whispering. “If I knew, I never would have left you behind. You have to believe me.”

“I know, Sade. I know.”

Shepard sighed and took a step back from him. “It’s been so long.”

Toombs took a step closer to her, heedless of her body language. “Commander now, huh? I still remember when you were the smallest in the unit and the Commander used to ream you out for being late to drills.”

Shepard smiled crookedly. “I remember that too. That old bastard’s lectures are in my nightmares.”

There was a long silence. Kaidan stood and began pacing while keeping his eye on the doctor. He felt a sudden flash of something deep in his belly. It made him reflexively grip his gun a little tighter. He shouldn’t be hearing this.

Kaidan wondered if he should clear his throat, say something, say anything, to let them know he could see them. Perversely nothing escaped him. He couldn’t think of what to say.

Toombs lifted his hand and traced the line of Shepard’s jaw.

“You look older. You look good.”

Shepard averted her chin slightly and looked at the floor. “Greg… we had some good times, didn’t we?”

“We did,” he said, his voice full of tears. “Feels like another life now.”

“It was.” Shepard’s voice held a quality he had never heard before. “You can get yours back now.”

“Yeah…”

Kaidan looked away when Toombs bent his head and kissed her on her lips. The last thing he saw was her perfect red lips kissing him back.

“Get up,” he said roughly to the doctor. “We’re waiting outside.”

The doctor had a nasty little look on his face but wisely held his tongue as Kaidan hauled him up and shoved him down the corridor.

Whatever they were doing, they stopped when Kaidan appeared in the corridor. Shepard sprung away from Toombs as if she had been burned.

Toombs was staring at Shepard.

“I’m taking him outside,” Kaidan said roughly to Shepard. “I’ll meet you out there.”

She stared at him, wide-eyed, and just nodded in reply.

Kaidan took several deep breaths when he made it outside, looking at the tall green mountains around them but not really seeing them.

When pickup finally came, Toombs and Shepard reappeared.

Kaidan deliberately turned his back to them.

“I’ll see you around, Shepard,” Toombs was saying.

“Okay. Take care of yourself.”

“You too. Go out there and give them hell.”

After the debriefing Shepard hovered in the comm room, like she wanted to talk to him. Kaidan wasn’t really in the mood. His head had been spinning ever since he had saw him kiss her.

All these weeks getting to know her… he thought she felt the same. He liked her - there was no getting around it. He felt he had been as transparent about it as he could be given their respective ranks and regulations. She had always seemed receptive…. but maybe not. Maybe he had gotten his wires crossed.

There was no getting around it. He thought she was a beautiful woman, and what’s more he found her magnetic and interesting to talk to. She always had a unique spin on things, funny in disarming ways and was whip sharp. Whenever he spoke to her, he thought he could speak to her for hours and never get tired of the conversation. She had made comments to him that implied she was receptive to his advances... but maybe she was that friendly to everyone. Christ, Ash would make fun of him… She’d already picked up on it and gave him hell over his crush.

He felt like a fool. It wouldn’t be the first time he had pinned his hopes on the wrong person and gotten hurt because of it.

Well at least you didn’t kill someone in front of her this time and terrify her… he told himself dryly. This time you were just a optimistic fool. Way out of your league, Alenko.

She’d never mention Toombs, nothing about a former flame even as Kaidan spilled his guts about Rahna and made an idiot of himself. She must think him a stupid lovesick puppy. How embarrassing.

“Alenko,” she said, just as he made it to the door. “Can we talk?”

Kaidan paused and closed his eyes for a second, steeling himself.

“Fuck,” he mouthed silently. He didn’t want to have this conversation. He’d rather slink off to his bunk and lick his wounded pride in private.

He turned around, taking a deep breath. “Yes, ma’am?”

Shepard crossed her arms over her chest, like she was shielding herself. She looked as uncomfortable as he felt.

“Drop the ‘ma’am’ for a minute, please. You must be mad at me.”

He stared at her, knocked off kilter.

“No, ma’am- I mean, no, Shepard. Of course not.”

She stared at him. He stared back in a silent contest of wills.

To his surprise, she broke first and looked away.

“Okay, I’m not gonna fuck around here,” she said, dropping her arms from her chest. “You saw Toombs kiss me.”

“…. Yeah,” he said but gave nothing else away. “It’s none of my business.”

She glared at him. “Either you’re lying or… or I’ve got a lot of things wrong in the last couple of months.”

Kaidan honestly didn’t know what to say to her. What was she trying to say? He was confused. This didn’t sound like a gentle let-down.

Shepard paced closer to him and lowered her voice. “I’m not a great person, okay? I’m not what you think I am. Greg and I… we used to be together. I was young. He was higher ranked than me at the time. It’s done now, okay? He was just saying goodbye.”

“Pretty funny way of saying goodbye,” Kaidan said before he could help himself. Damn it. That wasn’t playing it cool.

“Okay,” she nodded, “I’ll let you have that one. But he’s been through a lot, okay? At some point in time, before his life went to shit, I used to be something to him. I moved on with my life. He didn’t.”

Kaidan stood silently, studying her.

“I feel like I owe him. A proper goodbye or something like it. We talked. We’re different people now, he understands that.”

Her expression wasn’t quiet defiant… but there was a challenge there, like she was daring him to judge her.

Kaidan sighed. “I’m sorry, Shepard. It really is none of my business. I’m glad Toombs got some closure, whatever it is.”

He turned to leave, but she snatched his hand up and pulled him back.

“Kaidan. I want you to know that… that I want to get to know you. That this isn’t a game to me.”

Kaidan held on to her hand. She didn’t let go.

“It’s not a game to me either, Shepard. That’s why… I guess I… well, I didn’t like to think of you with someone else.”

Her face was so close he could see her faded freckles.

“I’m not with anyone else, I promise. I still want to see how shore leave plays out,” she said quietly. “I’m serious.”

She let go of his hand. Kaidan didn’t step away.

“I’m serious, too, Shepard. I meant it when I said you were special.”

Shepard nodded and stepped backwards. “I… you don’t know how that makes me feel.”

Kaidan managed a smile, his emotions frayed. This was getting too complicated… he had no idea what he was doing, no idea what he was getting into. The smart thing to do would was to back off entirely, get some distance from her, realize that trying to date his commanding officer was an entirely bad plan.

He just couldn’t. He wanted her so badly that he couldn’t stay away.

“I’m here, Shepard,” he found himself saying. “I’m not going anywhere.”

#shenko #kaidan alenko #sadie shepard #i haven’t actually posted fic on tumblr in forever because i’m shy but here we are

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