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mystery-star · 3 years

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Waiting for you - Spock

Pairing: Spock x reader (gender neutral)

Warnings: mentions of injury and death

Words: 1838

Star Trek universe: AOS

A/N: Just a lil thing I wrote because I haven’t written (at least for Spocko) in ages. And didn’t feel like writing on a series.

“She’s here. She’s here” you heard someone shouting beside you and looked around and finally you could see the Enterprise approaching in one of many tunnels above you. You smiled and stepped forward a little and waited for the crew to dismount. When you saw the first of them, your smile got broader and you got onto your tiptoes to look out for your husband. Not many people of the Enterprise had someone waiting for them and those who did seemed overjoyed. It made you look down for moment because you had a feeling that Spock wouldn’t greet you like others greeted their loved ones. Finally, you could see him and slightly raised your hand, hoping he’d see you. When he did, he came straight towards you, stopping half a meter in front of you

“(Y/N)” he said “What brings you to Yorktown?”

“I’ll give you three guesses” you replied and just threw yourself around his neck “I’ve missed you, Spock” you breathed against his skin and he hugged you back slightly.

“Am I therefore right to conclude that you came here in order to see me during my shore leave?”

“Right” you let go of him but only that you could kiss him. He cupped your face and kissed you back. At some point his hand found yours, slowly stroking his first two fingers against yours. But then he pulled away from you all of a sudden, just holding your hand. You turned around and saw two older Vulcans behind you.

“Commander, might we have a word? Alone?” you wanted to ask why you couldn’t come when Spock threw a glance at you and squeezed your hand

“Do you mind?”

“Just be quick” you pecked his cheek “I’ll be waiting for you, okay?” you handed him a keycard of the hotel where you had booked a room for you both. He gave a nod, then let go of your hand and followed the two men. With a sigh you looked after him and returned to the hotel, knowing he would be clever enough to find it when he was done.

But he only came when it was dark and you were already in bed, reading a magazine on your PADD.

“Have you been waiting with sleeping until I return?”

“Well, you got some days of shore leave, then I won’t see you for another two years. I want to use every minute with you that I can” he gave a nod and sat down on the bed, placing a device on the nightstand. “What did they want?”

“I will tell you in the morning”

“Alright” you put the PADD aside and stretched yourself a little before sitting up, crawling closer to him and wrapping your arms around him again, kissing him. “We now have better things to do, don’t you think?” he kissed you back and placed one of his hands in the small of your back, pulling you closer while he ran his other hand over the side of your face. After the kiss he leaned his forehead to yours and you bumped his nose with yours. “Did you have fun out there on the mission?”

“I have written and called you three times per week, as we have agreed on, and informed you about what you call ‘adventures’ and have also answered each question concerning them I was allowed to answer”

“Well yes but your last message was two days ago. I need a recap of the past two days. Or retell me your favorite mission. Doing it face-to-face is much better” you pecked his lips. He gave a nod, pulled you into his lap and started telling you how the Captain had attempted to make peace between two species that didn’t work out as planned. Then he went on to their arrival to Yorktown and suddenly his communicator beeped “Tell me that’s your private comm”

“It is not” he leaned forward to get it and you just wanted to stop him but let it happen with a sigh. Placing you back on the bed, he gave your hand a squeeze, took the comm, opened it and left the room. With a sigh you fell back on the bed, glancing to the PADD and considering if you should continue reading but then looked at the ceiling, repeating everything you had planned to do with Spock in the following days in your mind. Soon Spock returned and you sat up with a smile but his words ruined it “I must go”

“Go? Go where? Aren’t you on shore leave?”

“I am. However, there is a matter that requires my assistance”

“What is it?”

“I cannot tell you much but I must leave Yorktown”

“You’re shitting me”

“I do not joke”

“But… but… will you at least get that time off later on? How long will you be gone?”

“I suppose it should not take longer than 36 hours”

“Oh well…. Then you owe me yet another debriefing upon your return” he gave a nod, came closer to put his comm on his nightstand and pecking your forehead.

“Please make yourself a pleasant day tomorrow”

“Okay. And then I’ll be waiting here for you… again”

But Spock didn’t come home the evening or morning after he had left, so you decided to make yourself another nice day exploring another area of Yorktown. In the late afternoon, you suddenly heard how the station went on alert and after looking around you saw that a swarm of tiny ships tried attacking Yorktown. Around you everyone was in panic, screaming, rallying kids and running away while you stood there frozen, staring at the many little ships on the other side of Yorktown.

“We have to leave. Come. Now” someone next to you shouted, pulling on your arm

“Can we go somewhere safe? Like a… bunker?”

“A bunker on a Starbase?” the man started laughing slightly and shook his head.

“Or can we do something? Something to help? Is there a defense station or militia? Or help evacuate people?”

“That’s Starfleet’s business” as if on cue, there was an announcement, informing the public that there was an attack and that you should not panic. You let out a snort and watched how the people around you seemed to panic even more. You looked around and finally saw a security, officer, going over to him.

“Excuse me, Sir?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll all be safe, just stay calm and…”

“No, I wanted to ask if I can help something.”

“Help?”

“Yeah. Weapons, evacuate people or something” he looked at you, considered it a while then said he’d have to check it out. But before he could return, they managed to somehow blow up all the small ships. Somehow you couldn’t believe that this was everything and sure enough, there was another announcement informing the public that a great part of the ship had been destroyed but that three of them had gotten into Yorktown but that they still had the situation under control and would do everything to stop them. For some reason, you found that three ships hand entered Yorktown almost worse than the initial attack. Because you knew there probably wasn’t much you could do unless the ships came to that part of Yorktown, you sat down in a café, ordered a drink and watched the news on the big screen that gave a permanent update on the situation at the other end of Yorktown. Not even 15 minutes later, you heard that everyone was out of danger and the intruders had been rendered harmless. After a sigh, you finished your drink and then returned to the scene of the action, maybe there now was something you could help, like tidying up damage or helping the wounded. You stayed there and helped until it was dark and the volunteers were sent home, so you returned to the hotel. But you didn’t get far and the receptionist called you over.

“You are (Y/N) (Y/L/N), right?”

“That’s me, yeah”

“I have message for you, from a doctor Leonard McCoy”

“I know him. He’s the doctor on the Enterprise. What is this message about?”

“He lets you know, that your husband… Commander Spock will spend the night in Yorktown hospital”

“Ho-hospital? They’re back? What does he have? Is it bad? Can I visit him? When did they get back?”

“He only told me that so you know where your husband is and in case you wish to see him. I don’t know anything else” you nodded and with a thank-you you ran out of the hotel, to the hospital, where you had brought a few people earlier today. You went to a visitor station to register your visit and once you knew where your husband was and that he currently could be visited, you rushed to the elevator and then to his room. When you saw Spock lying in bed awake, you let out a deep breath and moved closer.

“Spock” you breathed, not sure what to say and having a hundred questions at the tip of your tongue. "How are you?” was the first you asked

“I am well, (Y/N). The doctors insisted I stayed the night to ensure that my condition does not become worse” you nodded and came closer, taking his hand, pressing a kiss to it as you sat down on the edge of the bed. To your delight, he squeezed your hand.

“What happened? To you, I mean?” he explained how on the mission his side was impaled by a piece of metal and that McCoy didn’t have the correct equipment to properly treat him. “At least you’re safe” you ran your free hand through his hair. “When did you even get back?”

“4.2 hours ago”

“That was… that was when the attack happened” he agreed and said it was them who played a great role in stopping them. “Oh so that big ship that destroyed the central plaza was you, the Franklin?”

“Indeed”

“And what about the Enterprise?”

“She has been destroyed”

“Oh no. What about the crew? Are they safe?”

“We have not yet been able to ascertain who has survived the attack on the Enterprise and who lost their life, however, I am certain that at least 350 people have survived”

“Out of 428 that’s still a lot that could have died”

“Besides, I also know of at least 16 casualties from the crew” you gave a nod

“And what now? I mean is your mission over? The Enterprise is gone”

“We do not know yet but it is certain that we will remain her for longer than the originally scheduled 12 days of shore leave”

“Well, then we got more time to do something as long as we’re here. And I get to see you longer. Ha that visit was worth it” you leant down to kiss his forehead. “Now we just gotta make sure you’ll be on your feet as soon as possible because I have lot planned for the next days”

Taglist: @softsapphicideals

#spock #spock x reader #spock x you #spock imagine #aos spock #imagine

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

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Misread Details, Part One

CW: Death talk, BBU, dehumanizing language about Box Boys

A Box Boy Serial Killer On the Loose? Part 1 of 3

r/LetsTalkTrueCrime

•Posted by u/oshaycanyousee 1 month ago

Hello, r/LetsTalkTrueCrime!

I’ve posted this write-up in a couple other reddits, but someone pointed me to this one as being a good place for discussion, and this is a really weird set of three unsolved murders (well, one death and two murders? Maybe?) and I wanted to see if any of you have some thoughts or maybe more info on these cases.

Three men died within two years in three different cities.

While each death is unique, all of them have one thing in common - fingerprints and DNA from a single human pet was found in every single location.

Let’s start with the first death.

Nathaniel Matthew Benson, who went by “Nanda” (a childhood nickname given to him by a younger brother who couldn’t pronounce his full name as a toddler, apparently), was forty-one years old at the time of his death.

He was born and raised in North Dakota by very strict religious parents, and had three younger brothers and one younger sister. There is some disagreement here about whether his home life was peaceful or not. His younger sister claims that the environment at home was strict but fair, and the family was mostly happy. Two of his three younger brothers tell a different story, about a father who put too much on their shoulders, especially “Nanda” as the eldest, and the pressure they felt to be perfect.

His other brother, the youngest of the family, has never given a public interview beyond a short statement that he and Nanda were not close, and he did not feel able to speak about his character. There were nearly fifteen years between the oldest and youngest childrens’ births, and Nathaniel had moved out of the house by the time the youngest was four years old, so this makes sense.

By all accounts, Nathaniel was an excellent student, getting all A’s throughout his years of education. He was considered quiet and shy, and most of his high school classmates don’t have many standout memories of him. He graduated valedictorian of his high school class, then surprised everyone by stating he wouldn’t be attending college, and instead would be taking a “gap year” to travel the United States using money from his graduation party and also some he’d saved up from working part-time retail and restaurant jobs.

Between ages 18 and 19, he took his small secondhand four-door vehicle around the nation, calling home every week or so to give his family updates, sending postcards, etc. After about six months, though, the phone calls and postcards became fewer and fewer, and eventually he told everyone he had gotten a new job and decided to forgo college entirely.

His family was shocked - and by all accounts his father was furious - but Nathaniel refused to budge.

There was apparently a very hostile phone conversation about one year after this decision which was the last time Nathaniel Benson spoke to his father directly until his death.

After this, his family received only sporadic communications sent from a P.O. Box located in central California, in a mid-sized city known as Dosaba. He never did give anyone an actual home address.

He occasionally called them, mostly his sister and one of his brothers, but surviving family states that the phone number he called from was different every single time, and usually didn’t have a California area code.

“He used burner phones for everything,” Nathaniel’s sister Samantha told WNDR, a local news station, shortly after his mysterious death. “And he would never tell us what job he did. We asked and asked and Nanda would just say ‘oh, this and that’, or ‘I do contractor work’. Just answers that don’t tell you anything. It was all very mysterious, very secretive. You know, we talked about how maybe he’d gotten into drugs or something, but my brother wasn’t a drug user, ever. It just seems so out of character for the brother I knew.”

“He was always reading his Bible when we knew him,” Younger brother Timothy stated. “But you know, I asked him once if he had found a home church wherever he was living, and he laughed and laughed. Then he just said, ‘they’d have a lot of opinions on how I live my life if I did that’, and changed the subject. So I knew whatever he was doing, it probably wasn’t good.”

There has been a lot of speculation by investigators that “Nanda” had indeed picked up employment within some kind of drug smuggling group at this time. Evidence found after his death has even opened the possibility that he worked as a high-end hitman.

There’s a lot of international travel during this time period, far more than can be accounted for unless travel was part of his workplace responsibilities. Employment records show him working as a sales manager for a company called Sunrise Investments, but this is believed by many to be a shell corporation hiding something much, much darker.

However, all of this remains speculative, and there’s never been any proof that Nathaniel Benson did anything but the financial sales the company claims. No one ever did much work with him, and other employees at the company stated contact with him occurred entirely by phone and fax (and then e-mail) at this time.

When investigators pored over the documents after getting a warrant, they weren’t able to find anything suspicious - and that in and of itself seems suspicious to some.

For years, Benson seemed to simply drop off the map entirely when it comes to local information - investigators did find that he owned a vintage Corvette that he fixed up himself (found via vehicle registry and taxes listings, which is public knowledge), and that about two years before his death he bought a large five-bedroom house with a basement in Dosaba, which he renovated in total secrecy. I was able to find records of him paying home taxes through his mortgage company, and that he spoke to local contractors and building companies, paying for consultations about the renovations he undertook.

None of the companies he spoke to kept any kind of detailed notes about these consultations, but you’ll see why it’s relevant when I discuss what was found after his death.

Nathaniel Benson’s life came to an abrupt end on August 16th, 20XX, but nobody would find his body for more than two days.

On August 18th, his cleaning lady arrived for her usual weekly visit to discover him crumpled at the foot of the stairs, face-up. She called 911 immediately and first responders arrived within twenty minutes to her white-faced and nearly silent.

First responders noted that Nathaniel’s eyes were closed, unusual for a violent death. A wet cloth had been laid over them to help them stay that way. The medical examiner stated later that this would have to have been done within the first hour after he died, before rigor mortis could stiffen muscles and lead to them opening again.

That whoever witnessed his death knew to do this is deeply unusual, and may be a sign of affection or grief.

The autopsy found that Nathaniel had met his end approximately 36 hours before he was found, and had died due to an undiagnosed heart defect that had resulted in cardiac arrest.

Sounds like any sudden death that can simply be written off as sad but natural, right? Well, there’s a few details that make things a little murkier than that, and have led to his death being listed as “undetermined” officially, and possibly including foul play.

For one thing, Nathaniel hadn’t simply collapsed next to the stairs - he had fallen, or been pushed, and showed evidence of bone fractures and head trauma consistent with the fall. A bit of blood was found on one step that came from his injuries. This head trauma would likely not have been fatal if he had received medical attention, but cardiac arrest ensured death even if head trauma didn’t.

Did Nathaniel Benson suffer a heart attack and fall down the stairs, dying only when he reached the bottom? Maybe.

Or maybe he really was pushed, the shock of it is the reason he went into cardiac arrest.

There’s one more unusual fact that makes foul play a possibility in this mysterious death.

Nathaniel Benson owned a legally purchased Box Boy, no known legal name, who went by his original purchase number: 334235. The Box Boy was a Romantic designation, and was purchased from Facility 001 in Berras, a city in Southern California, where the WRU headquarters is located.

WRU, when contacted by investigators, easily agreed to meet and provide detectives with information regarding the Box Boy’s purchase, as well as the DNA and fingerprint samples the company keeps on file.

According to WRU’s internal records, this Boxie was not only a designated Romantic, but a specialty Romantic, trained for ‘masochism’. This tracks with multiple books on, shall we say, somewhat salacious interests that Benson had for his love life.

As Benson never seemed to date anyone or maintain a relationship, it’s theorized that the Boxie was his way of dealing with the stress of his work. WRU noted that Benson had contacted them after the purchase was complete to give his compliments on the Boxie’s training and note that he was ‘perfect’ and they ‘got along just fine’.

The Box Boy’s fingerprints were found all over the house, which is totally normal. He was living there full-time, after all. But investigators also located something a bit more unusual: a secret room within the home that the cleaning lady had never seen before, hidden behind a carefully camouflaged door.

This is what Benson had been working on when he ‘renovated’ his newly purchased home: He built a secret dungeon room with stone walls and a concrete floor, outfitted with a dip and a “drain”, plus a garden hose hooked up on one wall.

The room also had rows upon rows of cabinets full of various tools consistent with a ‘hard BDSM lifestyle’, according to one detective. I wasn’t able to get ahold of the actual list of items found, but was able to determine that whips, knives, ‘unspecified implements purchased from adult stores’, and other things were found.

Tests done on the walls and floor showed that blood had been spilled nearly everywhere in the room at one time or another, and large amounts of it. There was also evidence of blood found in Nathaniel Benson’s bedroom, primarily on the floor and in the bed. A small faded stain was found on the headboard just below a set of cuffs hooked into it.

A few small dried bloodstains were also found around the master bathroom sink, and investigators were able to determine the blood matched the DNA of the Box Boy, and was left there much more recently than the rest of the blood in the house, possibly even on the day of Benson’s death.

Here’s the thing, though: the Box Boy himself was nowhere to be found.

Was this Box Boy tired of being used as a human pincushion? Did he take matters into his own hands and commit the ultimate crime a pet can do, killing his owner? If he did, he no doubt knew what happens to pets who kill their owners, usually either being ‘put down’ or wiped clean to be resold.

Is our Boxie a killer right from the start? Or was he only a witness to a natural death who panicked and ran away?

Without locating the Boxie himself, it’s impossible to know.

The cleaning lady remembered him, and gave a description: Somewhere between 5’8” and 5’11”, wiry but with some muscle, usually dressed in just a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt when she was in the house. He has short dark hair, brown eyes, and an angular face. She mentioned visible scars on his arms, but none on his face. She was told to call him only “pet” if she needed to speak to him. She stated his voice was slightly hoarse and rough, as if he had a sore throat all the time.

They had only one significant interaction, where the cleaning lady inquired about a large bruise on the Boxie’s face and bandages on his arms. He apparently told her, at the time, that he ‘liked the reminer’, but thanked her for asking after his health. They never spoke directly again.

The detail about his face being unscarred will become incredibly relevant in parts 2 and 3.

Neighbors, when asked, mentioned that they had seen someone matching that description walking away from the house somewhere around 4 and 5 pm on August 16th. The medical examiner believes Benson died around noon, so this leaves about four or five hours between the death and the Boxie leaving.

He appeared to be walking very quickly and one neighbor noticed he was holding what looked like crumpled cash in one hand and a plastic shopping bag in another.

He was spotted waiting at a nearby bus stop, and footage from a camera mounted inside the bus shows someone matching the Box Boy’s description riding the bus all the way into Dosaba’s historic, artsy downtown. There, he was again captured on CCTV purchasing a one-way train ticket with cash. The train station employee who sold him the ticket remembers offering him a round-trip ticket for a discount, which she always did anyone who asked for a ticket to another city, only to have him “nervously” say he wouldn’t need to come back. She mentioned that he scratched at the side of his neck, and that when he walked away, he looked like his shoes were a little too big for his feet.

It is believed, as Nathaniel Benson was found barefoot but wearing clothing that suggested he had been outside doing yard work just before his death, that the Box Boy stole his shoes.

The fleeing Box Boy is captured one more time on camera as he arrived at his destination, Red Hills, approximately a two-hour train ride to the south. He walks past the CCTV quickly, hunched over as if trying to hide his face.

After that, he disappears.

Red Hills is a significantly larger city than Dosaba, with nearly a million residents within city limits and another 600,000 filling its suburbs and outer neighborhoods. Red Hills is a city that has seen better days, and it would be easy for a runaway Box Boy to simply fade away into its seedier districts. While Red Hills has had more than a dozen runaway Boxies picked up over the years, mostly Romantics who engaged in prostitution to make ends meet, it’s not believed that Benson’s Box Boy knew this when he chose the location.

As Romantic Boxies usually can’t read, it’s believed he simply chose a location he’d overheard someone else say, knowing nothing about what he would find when he got there.

Two days after his death, Nathaniel Benson’s debit and credit cards, Driver’s License, and a folded-up note he had written to himself about buying toothpaste were found in a plastic shopping bag tied-off at the top, were found inside the bus the Boxie had ridden, stuffed between the edge of a seat and the wall. The Boxie’s fingerprints were on everything.

But the Boxie himself wouldn’t be seen again until more than a year later.

Nathaniel “Nanda” Benson’s death for a time remained a one-off unsolved mystery. A little on the unusual side, but entirely possible that no foul play occurred, just some details that need filling in.

The shocking murder of a Red Hills man known locally as “Brute” would bring this Box Boy back into law enforcement’s line of sight, and open up questions about whether the Box Boy had simply been running away from Nathaniel Benson’s death… or leaving to find a new victim.

I’ll post Part 2, about “Brute”, shortly! Then Part 3 will be about a third murder, in which our potential Box Boy serial killer takes out… another serial killer.

I told you this one gets interesting.

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @whump-tr0pes @raigash @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @eatyourdamnpears @boxboysandotherwhump @whumptywhumpdump @whumpfigure @outofangband @thehopelessopus @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @butwhatifyouwrite @newandfiguringitout @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @endless-whump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whumpiary

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orionares · 3 years

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BTHB: Comatose

BTHB: Comatose

Law and Order: SVU

@badthingshappenbingo

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“Can I ask you something?”

He flinches at the small voice from across the room. Blue eyes similar to his eyes stare at him blankly beneath brown curly hair with the same tenacity and strength he'd worked side by side with for twelve years.

Elliot nods slowly, prompting the ten year old to slide out of his chair and cross the room to stop inches from the foot of his mother's bed. Noah Benson rests his hand on the foot of the bed and eyes Elliot cautiously. "Did you do something to my mom?"

Elliot chokes on his breath and pushes himself from the huddled position in his chair to face Noah. He stifles a need to burst into tears and instead answers in a cracked voice, “What do you mean?”

“If you were the one that got her hurt,” Noah muses, “you’d be in jail. But- but you aren’t arrested and you have a badge. So you're a cop. Right?”

Elliot can feel his heart shatter as the boy eyes his mother, lying unconscious in one of Sanai’s hospital beds, hooked up to a handful of wires. He himself can’t bring himself to look at her- no, not after what had happened. The guilt alone-

“Do you work with my mom?” Noah’s question comes as he steps closer to Elliot, causing the older man to flinch. “I’ve never seen or heard about you before.”

“You're inquisitive,” Elliot stammers. Noah cocks his head to right and mutters, “What’s itiquative?”

“Inquisitive,” Elliot corrects. He scratches the back of his neck and sighs, “It means you ask a lot of questions. You also like to ask the right questions. Like your mom.”

“That’s what Uncle Fin says.” His face falls as he turns towards the bed and sniffles, “Is she going to be ok?”

A knuckle raps on the door as Fin Tutola ducks his head into the door before stepping in. He pauses to stare at Olivia for a moment before shaking his head in disbelief. Even though he had dropped off Noah an hour earlier, he still finds himself shaken at seeing her in this state. “You ready to head out, Noah?”

Noah doesn’t peel his eyes from the bed. “Why hasn’t she woken up yet?” he answers softly. Behind him, Fin and Elliot exchange a worried look.

“Do you remember what we talked about yesterday?” Fin asks. He walks to the side of the bed opposite Elliot and Noah. He places a hand on Olivia’s forehead and sighs as one of his closest friends doesn’t react to his touch. Noah nods slowly and furrows his brow as he recalls the day prior’s conversation.

“She hit her head on the sidewalk when she and-” Noah quickly whips his head back to Elliot, “Detective Stabler was trying to leave the hospital. It’s a….it’s called a…”

“Cerebral edema,” Elliot finishes. “Brain swelling. They induced a coma to help the swelling go down. It’s going to take a few days for her to heal, buddy.” Using the word ‘buddy’ stings for Elliot- hell, he doesn’t deserve to use that term for the son of the woman whose heart he broke.

Noah shakes his head. “Oh, yeah. Can I stay a little longer? ‘Cause I want to be here when she wakes up.”

“Well, Elliot will be here-”

Noah’s eyes widen and he turns once more to Elliot. He mirrors his mother’s investigative scan at his badge and face. “My mom says your name in her sleep. A lot.”

Fin snorts unexpectedly at the boy’s comment. “Okay. Maybe this is a conversation for another time-”

Elliot finally pulls himself out of his daze and holds up a hand in defense. “No, I-I can head out and-”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Noah counters. “Can I talk to Elliot, Uncle Fin?”

Elliot glances up to Fin, who’s staring at Noah with contemplation. Even after ten years, Elliot can recognize the planning in the sergeant’s eyes. After a minute, Fin looks down to Olivia and whispers to her, “It’s your kid and you know I can’t say that to that face. He’s going to ask a million questions unless we nip it in the butt.”

“Fin-”

“Why don’t you take Noah down to the cafeteria?” Fin suggests, cutting Elliot off. He checks his cellphone to see 7:36 on the lock screen. “I think the cafeteria closes by 8 and he hasn’t had dinner yet.”

“Wait, maybe-”

Noah’s already moving towards the head of the bed where an empty chair sits close enough for him to climb onto the bed. He sits on his knees and begins chatting to his mother, “Mom, I’m going to be right back, ok?”

“She heard you,” Fin says. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the cafeteria, Noah slides into one of the cafeteria’s booths with a plate of a hotdog and French fries. Elliot stands next to the table and watches the boy slide off his jacket and begin eating hungrily without a word. The detective hesitates before easing down into the booth and sliding across to sit directly across from him.

“How’s the food?” Elliot finally asks after a few minutes of silence.

“Good.”

“I’m glad.” Elliot rests his hands in his lap and asks, “So your question about if I did something to your mom….what made you think that?”

“I heard Auntie Amanda and Uncle Sonny talking about you when I stayed at Auntie Amanda’s apartment,” Noah answers. He takes a bite of his hot dog and continues, “They were talking about how her ex-partner came back and how someone….named Chief said that she should stay away from you. What’d you do?”

“I- '' Elliot inhales and exhales slowly, replaying the many ways he had predicted having a conversation with Olivia’s son. “I was her partner at work for twelve years. We were inseparable and then I left her….without saying goodbye.”

“Why?”

Elliot pauses to formulate his answer. “Adult reasons.”

Noah moves onto his French fries and mumbles, “Adults always say that. It’s dumb.”

“Touché. I was married until a couple of months ago when my wife died,” Elliot explains. Saying the words ‘my wife died’ still stings. “When your mom and I were partners, I…..um…”

“You loved my mom?” Noah’s eyes widen before he shrugs his shoulders at Elliot’s sudden look of disbelief. “What? It happens in the movies all the time.”

“You are too smart for your own good,” Elliot chuckles. “I did but I was married. That’s a complicated line even for adults.”

“Then….why’d you leave?”

“Because I was afraid. Things became complicated so I did what cowards do and ran, Noah.” He ignores the instinct to stop spilling his guts to a ten year old and pushes on. “ My family and I moved to Italy and I cut her out of my life.”

Noah suddenly stops eating, pushes the plate towards Elliot and scowls at the man. “That’s stupid.”

“What?”

“I don’t get why adults do stupid stuff like that. My friend Phillip’s parents hated each other but they stayed married. Philip said they should have gotten a divorce a long time ago but didn’t. He moved away last year with his grandparents, I think. It’s dumb that you left.”

Elliot settles back against the booth, speechless. The observations and opinions shared by everyone in Olivia’s life spilled out by her son in a ten minute conversation. “It was and will be one of the greatest regrets in my life.”

Noah takes another fry off of his plate. His next question comes in a timid voice. “Do you still love my mom?”

Elliot swallows hard and feels tears forming in his eyes. “Why do you ask?” he chokes out.

“Because you keep staying with her at the hospital. And you look like people do when people they love are hurt.”

Elliot nods and chuckles. “You should be a detective when you grow up.”

“I want to be a dancer. Do you?”

Elliot smiles for the first time in days at Noah. “More than anything. More than anything.”

Noah takes another fry before stifling a yawn. “You should tell her...if she...if she…”

“Hey,” Elliot quickly slides out of his side of the boot and moves to sit next to a suddenly tear eyed Noah. Elliot rests a hand on his shoulder and says softly, “Your mom is the absolute strongest woman I ‘ve ever met. She’s going to be ok. You can’t give up hope, okay?”

Noah buries his head against Elliot’s shoulder and whimpers, “Okay.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"They're letting me stay the night," Elliot says softly as he settles back into his chair he had been sitting in for the past two days. After parting ways with Fin and Noah, he had returned to the hospital room to find a blanket , a pillow and a nurse giving a nod in approval. "I think they assume that we've..that we're…together, I guess."

Hw can't bring himself to look at her battered form in the bed. The moments of leaving the hospital after the Chief and IAB had dismissed Bell, Olivia and him to go home replays over and over every time his mind wanders.

"Elliot, I don't need protection!" Olivia growls as the three head towards the parking garage.

"Wheatley got to Angela in a hospital! I'm not going to let him get near you!" Elliot counters. Behind him, Bell's eyes are occupied on her phone, brow furrowed at the information she's just received from Jet.

“I know how to protect myself and my son. I’m a police captain,” she argues back. There’s an anger behind her statement that he can’t quite place but-

Bell suddenly holds up a hand and exclaims, “Hold up! Jet’s just sent me a-”

His sergeant doesn't finish as a concussive force slams into his body , propelling him and the two women across the pavement and into unconsciousness.

Elliot shakes off the memory and continues to talk. “I think it’s because I’ve spent a total of six hours away from you since the explosion. Liv, I can’t- ever since I’ve come back, I’ve put you in danger, caused you stress and….got Kathy killed.”

In the back of his head, he imagines the Olivia of ten years ago, sitting next to him with a cup of coffee and a comforting hand on his shoulder, saying, “El, you can’t blame yourself for something that was out of your control.”

“But I left you and that was in my control,” he answers the voice. He rubs a hand over his face in frustration. Another bit of memory- the briefest moment of consciousness after the explosion replays in his head.

He’ll never forget opening his eyes to her lying unconscious a foot away from him on the pavement with blood running from her ear onto the ground.

“I know I don’t deserve this but,” Elliot whispers, “but don’t leave me please. I didn’t deserve Kathy and I sure as hell don’t deserve you….but” he finally looks up to the bed and can’t stop the sob of guilt that comes. The tubes, cuts and her stillness break him. Elliot stands up and walks to her side, letting the tears fall. The tears don’t fall only for her, but for his wife, his kids, Noah and everyone he’s impacted since returning to New York.

“I love you,” Elliot whispers. He rests his forehead against hers and repeats the words he hopes he can say one day again. “I love you.”

#olivia benson #elliot stabler #law and order svu #bensler #bad things bingo #bad things happen bingo

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seventhrounder · 3 years

Text

I went thru my folder with old hockey magazines I had saved from around 2011 to 2015 and came across this one and thought it could be a fun to make a post about now in hindsight.

This is Jääkiekko magazine from May 2012, they always have a section of "99 questions with ..." and in this issue they interviewed Teräväinen.

I’ve translated the questions I found interesting under the cut! It ended up being about half of the interview. (*) are my additions.

On the cover "seuraava superjokeri" means the next super joker, he played for Helsingin Jokerit so it's a word play from that. Under, on the blue print it says: "The 17-year-old forward will become a first round draft pick in the summer. The natural goal scorer can dominate in SM-Liiga as soon as next season."

In the 2nd photo the headline and lead paragraph goes:

"A post with dents* - A year ago Teuvo Teräväinen was known only within a small number of hockey insiders. Few passers-by recognize him now either but after a flashy rookie season the Jokerit sensation is on the radar of every NHL team and is a strong contender to become a first round draft pick. Next season with Jokerit the talented second line center will be one of the main talking points in the SM-Liiga."

(*references the net Teräväinen had in his backyard and into which he practiced his shooting)

3. You've been described as a magician, top scorer, wunderkind and a prodigy. What do you think of these descriptions?

TT: Heh, those are some descriptions yeah. What can I really say? Don't really wanna comment on them much.

4. How nervous are you about the Draft?

TT: I try not to be nervous as best as I can. In a way I don't have anything to be nervous about since I don't care which team picks me or at what number I go.

6. Which is stressing you more, English interviews or physical tests?

TT: Maybe both. Bench press (laughs) and English interviews can be tough.

12. How far along have you planned your career with, for example, your parents or your agent?

TT: Haven't really planned things with others but I've thought about them myself. I try to go step by step and not jump too far ahead.

14. How does it feel to be so young with all the star players in Jokerit?

TT: How to say it? I haven't felt like I was young but a part of the team instead. The team's been very good with me and they haven't been looking down at me like: "oh he's young". It's been fun to play in an experienced team.

15. Is there a generational gap between players?

TT: You can see the age difference, older players look older but we're all childish, at least with our topics.

17. What does a 17-year-old do in the sauna nights of the team?

TT: I actually haven't been in any yet. I've always been at national team's camps or something.

19. Did you get the number you wanted?

TT: I did, yeah. I could've taken #18 but Semir (Ben-Amor) has it. But i'm happy with #86, it's good.

23. What are your strengths as a player?

TT: Offensive play and with that playing with the puck, passing, IQ, power play and skill, just the usual skill - skill with hands.

24. And weaknesses?

TT: They are to do with defensive play, strength and physicality. Battles and such but I think I took a step forward last season. That's a good thing.

25. Have you ever been "pressed into a mold" or has your playing style gotten to develop naturally?

TT: As a kid the play was mostly offensive/attacking, I didn't have to think about playing defence. Up until 15 years old, I got to attack pretty freely. Playing defence became more important when I started to play in A-juniors a couple seasons ago.

26. On a scale from 1 to 10 how determined are you?

TT: Maybe 8, feels like an 8.

32. What kind of role are you planning to take with Jokerit next season?

TT: I think a pretty big one. I try to be a top player and not just take others' example but give others example myself too. So that someone in the team can take something out of the way I do things on the ice and off the ice.

35. If you could pick anyone, who would be your car driver?

TT: Nico Manelius for sure. He's been my driver this season. I've had others too, like Riku Hahl but he's not nearly at the same level. Nico’s clearly the best.

36. What are the most important qualifications to be a good driver?

TT: The car is obviously important. Hahl's car is totally awful, he takes a lot of heat for it from the guys too. I wouldn't dare driving with him. Manelius is a steady performer, never lets you down.

38. What sports did you play as a 10-year-old?

TT: Hockey and floorball, probably football (soccer) during the summers at the time too.

42. When did you decide to focus only on hockey?

TT: So when I stopped playing other sports? Three years ago, before that floorball was kind of a side thing, I played a couple of games in the regular season and playoffs.

45. Do you follow floorball or other sports? Go to games?

TT: I don't go to games but I like to watch floorball on TV, it's an interesting sport. Sometimes I watch football too but I don't follow it much. Feels like they never score there.

47. Have you ever played with a wooden stick?

TT: As a kid I did play with a wooden stick.

49. You won the hockey players' golf tournament last summer even though there were more experienced players too. Are you good with all stick games?

TT: Well, I've been pretty good in all of them. I've played golf for a long time and still play it.

50. How is your swing?

TT: Pretty bold, kind of a hockey swing. I don't really care where the ball goes - as long as it goes far.

52. What do you think of off-ice training?

TT: Let's just say it's more stupid than being on the ice but you still gotta do it to be better on the ice.

56. Which word describes your professional relationship (with his coach, Tomek Valtonen), tranquil or colorful?

TT: Colorful of course. At times we're joking around, other times it's more serious but the relationship is really good.

57. Coaching you has been described in many words: good, bad, worse. What are they?

TT: Heh, well... I won't tell them here. He (Tomek) keeps the discipline during practices but sometimes when things haven't gone to a plan I've had to jump on an exercise bike in the middle of a practice.

58. What have been the reasons?

TT: I'll quote Tomek: "when I haven't been present".

59. Have you ever tried to turn the resistance of the bike to zero?

TT: (Laughs) Of course I have and sometimes I've even succeeded.

60. Describe your diet in three words?

TT: Greasy, healthy and good!

64. Your first name is not common for people your age. How did your parents come up with it?

TT: I actually don't even know. Maybe they didn't want a usual Ville*....

(*very common name for men of all ages in Finland)

66. Which of these is the most important: skill, unexpectedness or courage?

TT: Skill!

68. Your longest video game stint?

TT: Six hours, at least. I've played a lot of War of Duty lately.

72. The dumbest thing that has made you upset in hockey?

TT: Probably if I didn't get an assist on a goal even though I should have. Or even worse is if I score and they mark it down for someone else.

79. Have you had any concussions?

TT: I haven't had any, I've managed to always dodge them.*

(*ouch, tho it's good the recent one is his only as far as i remember)

84. In 2011 Team Finland finished in the 5th place at the U-18 tournament. Why only as 5th?

TT: Because we lost to Team Russia in the quarter final, just as well we could have won that game too.

89. You didn't get to be on the ice to accept the SM-Liiga bronze medal (because of the U-18's). When and where did you get it?

TT: I actually still haven't received it, I don't know where it is.

93. What is the population of Helsinki?

TT: There's like 5 million people in Finland so maybe around 500k in Helsinki? (to be exact 596k) Did i really get it right...?

94. Who's the mayor of Helsinki?

TT: I don't know, I barely know the president.

95. Do you think the municipalities in the capital city area should merge?

TT: Luckily I don't have to decide but they probably shouldn't.

96. What do you check first in the news paper?

TT: The sports section.

97. Your favorite tv show?

TT: Putous* was pretty good, I liked a lot of the characters. The grandma was pretty good.

(*Finnish live improvisation comedy/sketch show (there are still new seasons, the latest just finished). Every actor comes up with a humor character with a catchy phrase and one of them wins. "The grandma" is Marja Tyrni and I just got such flashbacks from typing this sentence.)

98. Last book you read?

TT: I don't read many books. The last book was a study book, a Finnish book. I wrote an essay on Tiki (Esa) Tikkanen's biography. An eventful book, great career and a lot of chirps.

99. Who should we ask the 99 questions next?

TT: Riku Hahl could have good stories, he's also seen a lot of the world.

#teuvo teräväinen #teuvo teravainen #carolina hurricanes #canes #hockey #nhl #mp #i knew i had this mag but i thought it was from 2014 and post draft #i really didn't rmbr i've been following turbo for this many years???#good on 16yo me for spending 8 euros on this tho that was excellent thinking

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moon-light-jukebox · 4 years

Text

“All you have to do is ask” Chapter 5 - [Reid x Reader]

previous chapter // series index // next chapter

Summary: The team has a case that takes them to Illinois. Our favorite boy wonder gets jealous and challenges Reader. So, she decides to show him who is really in charge.

Pairing: Spencer Reid / (Female Reader)

Word Count: 5.7k for Chapter 5

Content Warning: Here we go. The team has a case, so talk about m*rder, the usual criminal minds stuff. Jealousy. BDSM. Femdom. Degradation. Slapping. Spitting. Face sitting. Face fucking. Vaginal fingering. And I think that’s it.

A/n: In celebration of my 1 week of writing again, and all the lovely support I’ve gotten, I’m giving you chapter 5 a day early. Chapter 6 is still scheduled for Saturday. (Mostly because I haven’t written it all yet.) Chapter 5 is my favorite so far. I hope you love it as much as I do...because things only escalate in chapter 6. 😇 Some names on my tag list still aren’t working. I’m sorry!

y/n = your name. y/l/n = your last name. italicized text are Reader’s thoughts.

-- Chapter 5: “Are you jealous, Doctor?” –

I don’t resent my job, I repeated mentally for the thousandth time. I don’t resent my job. I am not upset. I am happy to be here to help people in need. I didn't even sound very convincing in my own mind. I had known it was too good to be true. I finally had Dr. Reid right where I wanted him…when both of our phones chimed with the same text message. "Avengers, ASSEMBLE.” But it’s fine that we’re sitting on the jet at 10 pm headed to the Midwest. Keep telling yourself that, y/n. Serial killers were such cock blocks.

The ding from the computer on the small table signaled Garcia's digital arrival. "Hello, my loves!" Her sunshine personality would not be dampened by our sleepy grumbles. Or sexually frustrated grumbles, in my case; and from the way Dr. Reid kept sneaking glances at me, I suspected his too.

“What do we know so far?” Hotch asked, cutting right to business. If he was tired, he certainly didn't show it. I'm still not even sure if he's human.

“The Illinois state police say that our 5th victim is named Sarah Gossman. She was a 32-year-old middle school teacher. Reported missing by her husband, Ralph, two days ago. Locals didn’t realize she was connected to the other victims until her body was found 2 hours ago.”

Hotch nodded, scanning the open file in front of him. “How were they able to connect them, Penelope?” David Rossi, the grandfather of the BAU questioned.

Garcia cringed. “They found the same wound on her shoulder blade. A square of her skin was missing.”

“It’s an interesting signature,” Spencer interjected. “The edges look jagged. Almost like the blade was serrated.”

“That’s what the M.E.’s thought too.”

“Babygirl, do they know if it’s the same knife that was used in the other murders?”

For a moment all that was heard was the clicking of her keys. “That is the suspicion, my beautiful chocolate sculpture of perfection.” I snorted at that one; every once in a while, their flirting quips got me. “They need the knife to be sure.”

"Thanks, Garcia," Hotch said before ending the video call. “Alright, if this unsub holds to pattern, he is going to take his next victim before 10 am tomorrow morning.”

“We might not be able to stop it,” Prentiss said. “But we can get her back. He keeps them for at least 36 hours.”

Hotch nodded. “Get some sleep if you can; it’s gonna be a long night.”

I jumped when I felt a hand on my shoulder; my fear evaporating when I turned and saw it was just JJ. “Hey,” she said softly. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” I said with a yawn that I couldn’t muffle. “I just feel like I’m stuck in a swamp, you know?” She nodded. “How he’s choosing them will be how we find him. How we find her.”

True to pattern, the unsub took his next victim the following morning after the body of Sarah Gossman was found. Alicia Sheldon, 31, was reported missing by her mother just after 10 am this morning. We had no proof that she was with our unsub outside of the profile, but we all knew that the clock was ticking if we wanted to bring her home alive.

JJ nodded, reading over my shoulder. “Narrowing down when can help too. Any luck?”

“Not really,” I sighed, closing my eyes. “I don’t think he does it at night, though. Garcia was able to see the activity for Alicia’s phone before she was taken. She replied to a text message at 4:45 am this morning.”

“Jesus Christ, that’s early.”

“What’s early?” Emily Prentiss asked as she walked into the conference room, Derek following after her.

“4:45 am is early,” I supplied. “Alicia replied to a text at that time.”

"Do we know if it was her?" That voice came from someone I hadn't laid eyes on yet. He must have followed Derek and Prentiss in. Dr. Reid was staring at me intently, his shirt wrinkled, glassed perched on the bridge of his nose. Even like this, he was so pretty it almost hurt to look at him. “Could the unsub have answered the text message to throw off suspicion?”

“I don’t think so, Doc.” I pointed at the evidence board where her most recent text messages and emails had been printed and tacked up. “Her text seemed personal. Not too much detail. It was sent to her best friend; unless the unsub was stalking her, there isn’t a way he would know that.”

Spencer nodded, walking around the table until he came to rest in front of the board. “Why would she be up so early…” His posture stiffened. What do you have, baby? What do you see? He turned and hit the phone that was in the center of the table.

“Speak and be heard.”

“Garcia, can we determine what time the last digital activity any of the women had was? We need to determine if they were all taken in the early morning hours.”

Morgan commented, “What are you thinking, Kid?”

Spencer didn’t answer, Garica spoke first. “Victim one and three are a no go; but victims 2 and 4 both had some digital dealings before 5 am the days they were reported missing, but they were all still at home according to the GPS on their phones.”

"Again, I say, Jesus, that's early."

I nodded at JJ. “Right. Who wakes up that early?”

“Someone with a strict routine,” Spencer said, his eyes never straying from the paper in front of him. “Garcia, did all of the victims have gym memberships?”

“Yeah, but to different gyms.”

Reid looked like he had just won the lottery. “What if all the women were on their way to the gym when he grabbed them? They all look athletic but have hectic schedules; it might be the only time they can fit it in. It’s still dark, but it’s technically morning. The women might feel safer. We didn't connect it right away because victims 2, 3, and 4 lived alone, no one knew their routines. He lies in wait and then grabs them, stuffing them into their own cars and driving off.” He was speaking rapidly at this point. “That could be why no one has found their cars yet. He has them.”

“Oh shit,” I muttered. “We need to see if the gyms have outside cameras.”

“Already on it, crimefighters.”

The unsub had left his car in parking lots adjacent to the gyms where the women were abducted for almost 2 days each time.

He thought he was smart; Spencer Reid was smarter.

“Hey,” a voice called from behind me. I turned to come face to face with a local deputy. He was a bit taller than me, stocky build, blonde hair that was cropped close to his scalp. “Good work out there today, Agent.”

“Thanks. You too, Deputy.” I turned, continuing to pack up my files. I was ready to go to the hotel and get some fucking sleep. Our jet was set to head out at 8 am the following morning. I’d gotten some sleep Saturday night; the team had gone back to the hotel in shifts while we continued searching for the unsub. But now it was Sunday afternoon and the exhaustion was starting to wear on me.

He cleared his throat, wanting my full attention again. “I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go for a drink?” Oh no.

I smiled at him, trying to be polite. “Oh, thanks for the offer but I’m really tired and we fly out early tomorrow.”

Deputy Douche didn’t like that one bit. He stepped forward, placing a hand on my upper arm. “Well, it doesn’t have to be a drink,” his smirk made my lips want to curl up in a snarl. “I can meet you back at your hotel and we can break in that bed together.”

Oh gross. I jerked my arm out of his grip. “No, thanks.” I turned my back to him.

He looked miffed but had the sense to not make a grab for me again. I felt his fingers brush over the end of my hair as he leaned in. “Let me know if you change your mind,” he whispered. He slid a piece of paper on the desk before he turned and finally left me alone.

Gross. I threw the paper in the trash.

My attention was so focused on finishing up so I could escape before Deputy Douche came back that I didn’t notice Spencer watching me from across the precinct with a deep frown on his pretty face.

I was unbuttoning my shirt when I heard a firm knock on my hotel room door. “Come the fuck on,” I whined. Leaving the two buttons undone I went to the door, expecting to see Hotch, given how sharp that knock was. It wasn’t Hotch. It was my boy looking angrier than I’d ever seen him.

He shoved through the doorway, making his way into my room. Luckily, we all had separate rooms this time. “Well, come on in,” I muttered before I shut the door.

Spencer was fuming. “What the fuck was that?”

I blinked. “What the fuck was what?”

His hands balled into fists at his side. “At the police station. With that Deputy.”

Maybe it was how tired I was, but none of this was clicking. “Deputy Douche? You saw that?”

“Yeah, I fucking saw that,” he scoffed. “I saw him touching you. Flirting with you.”

“Right.” Right?

Wrong, apparently, because that did nothing to dampen his anger. “Why did you let him touch you?”

It clicked then, right at that exact moment I saw what was beneath his anger. “Spencer…are you jealous?" I knew it wasn't the best idea to laugh but I really couldn't help it. The idea was so ludicrous to me. Morgan didn't call Spencer 'Pretty Boy' for no reason. On top of being one of the most brilliant people in the world, he was also the most gorgeous person I had ever seen. His bone structure alone was enough to make most women do a double-take. The thought that I would choose to spend my evening with the Deputy…over Dr. Spencer Reid? Yeah, no.

His cheeks burned pink, but he held his ground. “You said we were monogamous.”

Oh, hold up. I barked out a laugh. “No,” I corrected. “I said we could talk about monogamy in our dynamic if you wanted to continue." I felt my anger rise so quickly. "You have a fucking eidetic memory, baby. You know what I said.” Plus, I can’t control who flirts with me, dickbag, I thought, choosing not to say it out loud.

His anger matched mine. “I thought it was understood!”

“Nothing is understood until we talk about it, Doc.”

“Don’t call me that, not right now.”

Bad move, baby. “Oh, so you think you give the orders, Doc?” I made sure to put a lot of emphasis on the last letter in an attempt to rile him up further.

It worked because no sooner had the words left my mouth than his body slammed into mine. His mouth sealed over my lips in an angry kiss, his tongue demanding entry to my mouth, his hands tangled in my hair, holding me to him.

I was so lost for a moment; I hadn’t felt this in so long. For years my relationships were in perfect control, nothing unexpected. Who knew Dr. Reid would be the one that broke that pattern?

I hope you’re ready for this. My right hand grabbed the hair at the back of his head, tugging hard. His mouth broke away from mine with a yelp, but my left hand came up to hold his face, forcing his lips to pucker. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He looked scared for just a moment. Come on, baby. You can do it. Enlightenment washed over his face as he whimpered out, “I’m sorry.”

I tugged his hair again, only this time he moaned softly at the sensation. “You’re sorry what?”

“I-I’m sorry, Miss.” He licked his lips, looking more unsure than scared now.

Despite how fast my heart was beating, and how blown his pupils were, I couldn’t move forward until he understood. Spencer needed to understand the rules of a situation to feel comfortable. “We don’t have to do this, baby,” my voice was a whisper; somehow my serious tone didn’t manage to break the tension that hung around us.

“I want to,” his voice was hushed, urgent. “I trust you, y/n. And I feel so…I don’t know what this feeling is.”

I rubbed my thumb over his cheek, brushing over his bottom lip. “I know, sweet boy. I’ve got you.” I pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Green, yellow, and red,” I said knowing he’d understand what I meant. “There’s no shame here, pretty boy. I will not be upset with you if you need to use a safe word. It doesn’t mean our relationship ends, just this scene.” He nodded quickly. “I need your words, baby.”

“Yes Miss,” his voice was breathy, but his eyes were steady.

I smirked at him. “Good boy.” My hand tightened in his hair. “You’ll be a good boy for me, won’t you Dr. Reid?”

“Y-yes Miss.” I had guessed that the honorific would be a turn on for him, and judging by the whimper that followed his words, it looks like I was right.

“Take your clothes off and lay down in the center of the bed,” I released him, backing away to put as much space between us as I could. “Wait for me. You’re not allowed to touch yourself.” Honey brown eyes met mine, he wasn’t confused anymore. All that I saw reflecting in those eyes was desire.

I walked around him, never turning to look at him, and I headed into the bathroom. I finished taking off my shirt. I ran a brush through my hair. I did any tiny little task I could think of; I wanted him to wait.

The thing about BDSM dynamics that most people don’t understand is that no relationship is the same. The punishments that made one submissive tremble wouldn’t be effective on another. Anticipation would make Spencer squirm; I was sure of it. I had given Dr. Reid a lot of thought since our first conversation. I needed to understand what desires drove him if I was going to be able to bring him to the heights I wanted to.

Looking in the mirror, I puffed out a big breath. Truth be told, part of me being in the bathroom was to build anticipation for Spencer…but, part of it was because I was afraid. Even before tonight I had decided that my nervous boy deserved more than I gave the average sub. I cared about all my submissives to a point but, Dr. Spencer Reid was different. Maybe it’s because he had already held my life in his hands for almost a year; that made it easier…hell, it made it possible to trust him with this.

Squaring my shoulders, I turned and walked out of the bathroom. The main room was lit only by a lamp on the bedside table, covering our little world in a soft glow. I stalked slowly towards the bed, my eyes dragging up, up, up, until I saw him. He had followed my directions; I realized this was the first time I had ever seen him completely naked. He was beautiful, so beautiful. He wasn’t as scrawny as he looked to be with his clothes on. His body was covered in lean, toned muscles. He had no hair on his chest, giving him a slightly delicate appearance in my eyes; I wanted to mark that chest with scratches from my nails and bruises from my mouth. His cock laid against his thigh, half hard already. Like the good boy, I knew him to be, his arms were at his side, hands balled into tight fists.

I reached for the button of my pants, undoing them slowly, my eyes never left Spencer’s. Once my pants were off, leaving me in just my bra and panties, I placed a knee on the bed. I was careful not to touch him while I crawled up the bed to kneel beside him. Spencer's eyes bounced all over my body, his hands clenched and relaxing. My boy didn’t know what was to come and waiting for it was agonizing.

I reached out my hand to him, allowing my fingers to barely brush his arm. I trailed them up then down again and again. “Tell me why you came here tonight,” his eyes searched my face, still looking so vulnerable. “Why did you come to my door, Spencer?”

He licked his lips. “I-I was mad.”

My touch became firmer, a sort of reward for his honesty. I let my fingers wander up to his collarbone, over his chest. "Why were you mad, Dr. Reid?"

The whimper that slipped from his lips when I called him Dr. Reid was music to my ears. His hips were shifting on the bed, he was fully hard now.

“Because he touched you.”

I moved to swing my leg over his body, straddling his abdomen, careful not to touch his cock, not yet. “And why were you mad that he touched me?” I whispered.

“He can’t touch you,” his voice was breathy but firm. “You’re mine.”

Slap.

He looked startled when my open palm connected with his cheek. It wasn’t as hard as I wanted; I was still unsure. “No, Dr. Reid. I’m not yours. You are mine.” I leaned over him, my arms going to either side of his head to cage him in. “Do you understand?”

In the way that Spencer knew everything, he knew what I was really asking. His voice was no more than a whisper. “Green.”

I offered him a small smile. Then I lifted my hand to grab on to his face again. “I asked you if you understand, Dr. Reid?”

Spencer nodded quickly. “Yes Miss, I understand.”

I released his face before moving off the bed again. “You’ve been a very naughty boy, Spencer.” I gave him a frown as my hands reached behind my back to undo my bra, letting it slide down my arms. Spencer licked his lips, his fists becoming tighter. “I’m very disappointed in you, baby.”

“I-I’m sorry, Miss.” His voice was dry as he stumbled over his words.

"Are you, Dr. Reid?" I asked as my thumbs hooked into the waistband of my panties. "Are you really sorry?" Wiggling them down my hips, I let them drop to the floor before I stepped out of them.

“Yes. Yes, Miss. I’m so sorry.”

I crawled onto the bed, sitting back with my legs underneath me, letting my hands run up and down the skin of my thigh. “They’re pretty words, Dr. Reid, but I don’t know if I believe you.” I tilted my head to the side, bringing both my hands to my stomach, inching them up to my breasts. I let out a moan when I finally reach my destination, massaging my breasts, twisting my nipples while Spencer watched. I heard him whimper, causing a smile to tug at my lips. You’re doing so well, baby. I raised my body up so I was on my knees; I spread my thighs slightly, letting one of my hands drop to the apex of my thighs. Spencer watched so closely I’m not sure he even blinked when I dipped one finger inside the place that ached for him. I moved my finger in and out, biting my lip while I watched him.

After a moment I removed my finger, surprising him by bringing it to his mouth. “Open.” He obeyed instantly, his cheeks hollowing out as he sucked on my finger. “I wonder what else I could make you suck on.” I withdrew my finger from his mouth, bringing it back to my pussy. “How are you going to prove that you’re sorry, Dr. Reid? What are you going to do for me?”

His voice was filled with longing and hunger. “Anything, miss, I’ll do anything.”

I smirked, moving closer to him. Bracing my hands on either side of his body, I swung my leg over his torso, keeping on my knees so I didn’t touch him. Not yet. “Anything, huh?” He nodded quickly; his eyes fixed on my pussy.

I moved one hand to the headboard, the other moved to touch those beautiful curls of his, pulling hard enough to get another moan from him. “If you really want to apologize, Dr. Reid, maybe you can put that pretty little mouth of yours to better use?” I applied a tiny bit of pressure to his head.

He looked confused for a second, his eyes were wide in surprise like he couldn't believe what I was asking him to do. He probably can’t, I thought.

“What’s the matter, baby?” I teased. “Do you not want me to put my pussy on your face? You don’t want me to fuck your tongue?”

“No, no!” He whispered hurriedly. “I want that more than anything Miss.”

“Good boy.” I think he felt the significance of this moment too. “I’ll forgive you if you can make me cum before I get bored of you," I smirked down at him. “What do you think about that Dr. Reid? Can you make me cum all over your pretty little face?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Open your mouth.” I leaned over, putting my mouth closer to his, making it clear what I was going to do before I spit into his mouth. “Swallow it.” He swallowed obediently without any hesitation. Noted.

“Okay, Dr. Reid. I’ll take that apology now.”

He moved so fast. His hands hooked on the backs of my thighs, pulling me up his body while also pushing himself down the bed. My pussy was hovering over his mouth, he licked his lips, his fingers flexing on my thighs. He looked so desperate for me…but still so unsure. “Go ahead, baby,” I whisper, pulling on his hair hard enough to make him whimper.

With that, he gripped my hips and pulled me to his mouth. I felt his tongue move through my folds, gathering the wetness that pooled there. He moaned so loudly, pulling my hips down further, bringing my pussy closer to his face.

It had been so long since I’d felt this. I hadn’t let anyone touch me like this in years; it was so much better than I remembered, but that may have just been because it was Spencer doing it.

“Ugh,” I moan, starting to rock my hips. “Fuck, baby.” I pulled his hair, tugging hard enough that I knew it hurt. “I’m already getting bored, Dr. Reid, and you just started. You can do better than that.”

I wasn’t ready, not even a bit, for his lips locking around my clit. He flicked it with his tongue, then circled it, trying to find the method that made me groan and grind my pussy down on his mouth.

“That’s more like it, Dr. Reid,” I said, earning another moan from him. “I knew there had to be a better use for this smart mouth." My hips started rocking faster, his fingers were digging into my flesh. "What would the team say if they knew about what a dirty boy you are, Dr. Reid?" His tongue sped up, causing me to shudder. I bit my lip so hard I felt real pain. I didn’t want him to hear me moan; he hadn’t earned it yet. “What would they say if they heard Dr. Reid beg me to fuck his face? You’re always such a good boy, baby. But you’re not the good boy they think you are. You’re my good boy.”

My hips were moving more rapidly; Spencer hadn’t slowed his pace at all, almost like he could feel how close I was. What I had planned would be hard for me…but I knew it would be torture for him. After a few moments, when I felt my pussy spasm with the telltale signs of my impending orgasm, I gripped his hands and pulled them from me while I lifted my hips.

His mouth was red, wet, and his lips were swollen. His face morphed from one of bliss to one of confusion. “Wha-“

I moved away from him. “That was really the best you could do, Dr. Reid?” He bit into his lip, he looked almost embarrassed as his eyes moving down to my pussy.

“Please, Miss,” he begged. “Please let me finish. You taste so good. You were so close, I felt it.”

I chuckled, “Oh you felt it, huh?” I reached between my thighs, gathering some of my wetness, then moved that same hand to grip Spencer’s cock. At that first touch he let out a strangled sound that was almost a scream; my poor boy is so sensitive. I gave him a few pumps before I removed my hand.

“Miss, please.”

“You didn’t make me cum, Dr. Reid,” I said sweetly. “What makes you think you’ve earned my touch?” I moved my fingers back to my clit, rubbing slow circles, still so, so close. “Touch yourself.” He obeyed immediately, his eyes never leaving my fingers that were swirling around the place his mouth had just been. “I want you to touch yourself like you do when you’re at home in bed, Dr. Reid. Back when you still felt so guilty, but you just couldn’t help it…because I know you thought about me when you touched yourself long before Nebraska.”

His eyes shot up to meet mine; it was hard to tell if his flushed face got a little pinker in the dim light of the room. “You don’t need to deny it, baby.” My fingers started working faster. “I know. I’ve always known. So, I want you to touch yourself like you did back then. You can do that for me, right baby?”

Hand moving faster and faster now, he gave me another beautiful whimper, “yes Miss.”

“Good boy,” my finger’s slowed. “I said you could touch yourself. I never said you could cum. Stop, Spencer.” I could tell from his breathing that he was so close to the edge. “I said stop.” I reached out to grip his arm tightly, digging my nails into his skin.

Once he had released his cock, I took in his appearance. His stomach muscles kept tensing, his cock was leaking precum steadily now, his dick was an angry red, his teeth were digging into his bottom lip, and I could see the tears of frustration swimming in his eyes.

“Aw, baby,” I cooed, leaning over to put my body above his again; I caressed his cheek softly. “What’s wrong?”

"I-I" the chatterbox that was Dr. Spencer Reid was finally speechless.

I lifted my hand off of his face only to bring it back down in a sharp slap. “I asked you a question, Dr. Reid.”

I saw the desperation in his eyes. I know baby, I know. We’re almost there.

“Please, miss,” his words were so quiet. “I can’t take this anymore. I’m sorry. I’m yours.”

He deserved the world. This wonderful man deserved the entire world. “I believe you, Dr. Reid.” I leaned over him then, sealing my lips over his, my tongue stroking into his mouth softly. I felt his hands rise up towards my body only to stop just before they made contact.

He made my heart swell. I pulled my mouth away, looking down at him with an emotion I didn’t want to name shining from my eyes. “You’ve been such a good boy, baby.” I pushed the damp curls off of his forehead. “Such a good boy. I think you deserve something special.” I rose up on my knees, straddling his body again, my hand moving down to my pussy to spread myself open for his eyes. “What would you like more? Do you want me to put my pussy on your pretty face again? I’ll let you cum while you make me cum. I know how badly you need to taste me, Dr. Reid.” I bit my lip at how quickly he nodded his head. “Or, I can let you fuck my mouth. Hold onto my hair and fuck your pretty cock down my throat. Then I’ll let you watch me cum after.” I left a kiss on the tip of his nose.

Dr. Spencer Reid usually made decisions quickly; his mind worked so much quicker than everyone else, but he was struggling here. His eyes met mine, he looked so desperate and lost in a sea of his own desire.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you, baby.” I moved down his body then, trailing kisses down his stomach. I gripped his cock hard in my hand, causing him to moan so loudly I’m sure someone in the neighboring rooms heard him. “Fuck my face, Dr. Reid. I want to watch you come undone.”

Needing no further encouragement, his hands tangled in my hair, tugging the strands so hard it made my eyes water. I opened my mouth over him; he lifted his hips going far deeper into my mouth than he would have done normally. I relaxed my jaw, swallowing around the head of his cock. My eyes were watering too much to watch him, but I heard him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, pulling my head down to meet his upward thrust. “You feel so fucking good, y/n. I’m gonna…” he let out a ragged breath. “I’m gonna cum.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than he came apart. His groan was from deep in his chest and it sounded like my name as he filled my mouth. He slowed his thrusts, but I continued sucking. I needed him to feel every ounce of this.

When his hands finally dropped from my head, I released him. I wiped my eyes and I took him in. He looked so overwhelmed, shattered, and beautiful. I moved up the bed, lying beside him and wrapping him in my arms. I peppered his shoulder with kisses. “You did so good, Spencer,” I praised. “So, so good. I’m so proud of you.”

Spencer turned, his hands cupping my jaw while he stared so deep in my eyes. What I saw swirling on the surface of those amber eyes made my heart stop.

“You didn’t cum.” His voice was scratchy.

“I know. It’s okay,” I reassured. “We can take a break. Or you can watch me cum now.” I kept stroking his hair, his body. “Whatever you want, Spencer.”

My core was still throbbing, the sight of his release only pulling me closer to the edge.

His lips lifted in a smirk. “Whatever I want?” he teased.

“Yes.”

He blinked once, then again. He didn’t know quite what to do with my confirmation; but I meant it, in this moment, I was willing to give Spencer Reid anything and everything.

“…Can I make you cum?” he searched my eyes for any sign of hesitation. “I…I want to finish. What I was doing earlier.”

My laugh bubbled out of me. “I just had your cock down my throat but now you can’t ask me if you can make me cum on your face?”

I was still laughing when he leaned forward to kiss me; both of his hand cupping my jaw. There was heat behind this kiss; it brought my simmering arousal back to a giant flame in my lower belly. Heat wasn’t all that was there though. I can’t think about that. I couldn’t dwell on what I felt, but I felt it with my entire soul.

Despite what we had just done, this felt different. The scene felt over, his powerful orgasm had shifted the mood in our little bubble. I wasn’t his Miss. He wasn’t my pretty, nervous boy. He was Spencer and I was y/n; and he wanted to make me feel good. He rose over me then, wasting no time on foreplay; he knew I didn’t need it.

He settled between my thighs, his hands wrapping around them, his fingers digging into my skin. With one final look at my face to make sure this was really okay, he put his mouth on me. My back arched and my mouth hung open in a silent scream. Spencer didn’t toy with me; he knew how close I was.

“Spencer, Spencer, fuck,” his eyes opened when my fingers tangled in his hair, my pussy grinding into his face. “I’m so close. Fuck.”

I was so lost I didn’t realize his hand had moved until I felt two fingers enter me, curling expertly. He pumped his fingers and wrapped his lips around my clit, sucking firmly. That was all it took for me to cum for him.

It all happened so quickly I didn’t have time to be scared. He was the first man to make me orgasm in longer than I wanted to admit. I knew the last time I let someone put their mouth on me. It had always felt like a deeply intimate act to me, I was always nervous to let anyone do it.

Spencer rose up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Why is that sexy?

He laid down beside me; I'm not sure who's arms wrapped around who first, but we were clinging to each other, both of us breathing hard.

“So,” I said, after clearing my throat. “What did you think?”

Spencer chuckled, the hot air of his breath puffing against my hair. “I liked it.”

“Yeah?” I pulled back to look at his eyes.

“Mhm," was his response as he leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on my lips before his mood shifted. "Y/n…I'm sorry I got so mad." He looked so embarrassed as he said it as if it wasn't the sweetest thing in the world that Spencer Reid would care about me like that. “I just…I saw him touching you and I just…” he dropped his gaze. “I know we didn’t talk about monogamy, but I thought- I was just so worrie-“

My finger pressed against his lips. “I don’t want to be with anyone else, Spencer.”

We fell asleep shortly after that. I couldn’t help but wonder if his thoughts felt anything like mine; the irony of it all was I was too afraid to ask.

Series tag list: @abschaffer2 @liaabsurd @brokenanxiety @thisiscalmandits-dr @less-intelligent-spencerreid @reidsmyhusband-emilysmymistress @cielo1984 @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @101donuts @heyitssarahk @creepingfromthecorners @imjusthereformggcontent @fanfictionislifetho @annestine

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#criminal minds #criminal minds fan fiction #criminal minds fan fic #Spencer reid #dr. Spencer Reid #Spencer Reid imagine #Spencer Reid x reader #Spencer Reid x you #Spencer Reid x y/n #Spencer Reid smut #reid smut #dr Spencer Reid smut #dr reid smut #criminal minds smut

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spencersawkward · 3 years

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switchblade faith // spencer reid - chapter 1

summary: one month after joining the BAU, Clea is still settling in. between solving murders and getting acclimated to DC, the only comfortable thing in her life is her friendship with Dr. Spencer Reid.

relationship: fem!OC/Spencer Reid

word count: 3.4k

hi all! welcome to my new story.

I've never written a baby Spence fic before, but I'm gonna try my best. I just wanted to get something out of the way before the book starts:

aside from the fact that it's young Spencer, this book isn't placed in a specific season. I might pull cases from different episodes, but the characters will remain the same. I've included Emily and Rossi as characters because I couldn't bear to have a story without either of them (wouldn't want to subject any of you to a Prentiss-less world).

that's pretty much it. I'm glad you're here. if you wanna read my other stories, my masterlist is here.

happy reading :)

"HA!" I slap my hand down on the pile of cards and slide it towards me, organizing them in a neat pile with a smug expression.

"this game is a sham." Spencer sighs, reaching for his book.

"you're just mad you lost." I raise an eyebrow and shuffle the cards again. "you don't wanna play another round?"

"why would I? the only skill this game requires is fast reflexes." he runs hazel eyes down the page with an alarming quickness. I scoff at his disinterest.

"maybe if you trained those reflexes as much as you trained that big genius brain of yours, you'd get a leg up." Morgan teases from his spot next to me. Spencer glances at him with a frown, his cheeks turning a light pink, before looking to me. I throw up my hands.

"he said it, not me." secretly, I smile at the fact that Derek is backing me up.

"I could beat any of you in poker." Reid defends.

"easily. it helps that I don't even know how to play." I slide the cards back into the holder and cross my arms over my chest with a sigh.

"you don't know how to play poker?" he's shocked.

"I told you, I hate card games like that!" I emphasize. things like poker, blackjack, anything that involves multiple players, I usually don't enjoy much. Emily glances up from her case file with a tiny smirk.

"why?"

"I'm a sore loser." I admit, averting my eyes. there's also the risk factor involved, which includes giving up coins or pretzels or peanuts if I lose. I tend to cling tightly to all three. Prentiss lets out a laugh and Spencer flips the page of his book.

"and winner, apparently."

"you're sassy today, aren't you?" I grin at him, pleasantly surprised.

in the month I've been working here, I haven't spoken to Spencer very much. he's been polite and I've gotten to know his intellect quite well, but he doesn't spend a lot of time with us outside of work. when we go out to get drinks, he either declines or heads home before we can even ask, a bag full of books pressed to his side.

I think he just takes a while to get comfortable around new people-- that's what JJ said when I asked why he seemed to be avoiding me. the fact that he played cards with me today felt like a victory in itself, so I'll take what I can get.

Spencer doesn't reply to my dig, only crosses his long, narrow legs and settles into his book.

"we should start briefing before we land." Hotch and Rossi walk over from their spots at the front of the plane to sit on the couch by our table. I nod eagerly and watch as Emily flips open her laptop to FaceTime Penelope about the case.

the first couple cases were more difficult than I expected because I had never worked in the field before joining the BAU, but I'm starting to get used to flying around constantly and examining actual dead bodies. working sex crimes meant I spent most of my time in front of a computer screen or just staying in the office. this is incredibly different-- which I'm starting to find might not to be a bad thing.

"--the virus killed her hard drive and left that on the screen." Penelope explains, referring to the picture of Heather Woodland's computer.

"'for heaven's sake, catch me before I kill more. I cannot control myself'." Morgan reads the message aloud from the case file. the words feel familiar in my mind and I try to remember where I've heard them before.

"that's exactly what William Heirens left behind." Spencer sparks the memory. I sit up straighter.

"the Lipstick Killer?" my fingertips trace over the case details. it's a weird aspect of the murder to emulate, especially because he didn't even leave the message in lipstick. I guess he's not really concerned with that; based on the unsub's previous victims, we have just under 36 hours to find her.

"his first victim was Melissa Kirsh, 26," Reid scratches his nose as he reads, frowning so hard that I start to think he'll form permanent wrinkles. he's got such a baby face, it's almost funny. "stab wounds, strangulation."

"so he stabbed her first, and then strangled her to finish the job?" Morgan repeats.

"what's with using a belt for the second murder?" Emily flips through the papers, confused. Spencer stiffens in his spot as he realizes this is the perfect time to share his freakishly expansive forensic knowledge.

"strangulation with your bare hands actually isn't as easy as you would believe. he probably tried it, found that it took too long, then stabbed her. and blood takes a long time to clean, so he decided a belt would be more efficient."

"he's perfecting his method." I can't tear my eyes away from the photos, despite the roiling sensation they put in my stomach. even with the things I've already seen, I don't think I'll ever get over photographs like this.

"we'll be landing soon and then we're meeting up with the Seattle field office. be ready to split up once we hit the ground." Hotch snaps shut his case file and stands up, breaking off to go sit alone. Rossi takes note of the old card deck that sits on the table.

"poker?" he looks between the four of us.

"nope." Emily chuckles.

"this one doesn't know how to play." Morgan gestures to me, causing Rossi to turn to me.

"were you raised in a barn?" he asks in his usual manner of speaking: blunt sarcasm with a hint of mockery. I frown sarcastically.

"something like that."

"at some point this week, we'll sit down and I'll teach you." he gets up, pats my shoulder, and walks over to join Hotch. I lower my voice once he's far enough away.

"is he actually gonna make me do that?"

"you don't know Rossi." Morgan shakes his head slowly, slides his headphones back on, and sinks into his seat.

"I'll join and bring JJ with me." Emily winks at me reassuringly, noting the tapping of my nail against the surface of the table. Rossi is a legend in the field and I've read all of his books, but didn't want to freak him out by telling him so. it was embarrassing enough when I met him and got tongue-tied while shaking his hand. he's got an elusive energy that intimidates me, and I'd prefer not to showcase that by humiliating myself with poker.

instead of dwelling on thoughts of how I'm going to fail in front of my idol, I open up one of my books and try to pass the time.

...

while I'm writing some notes on one of the many white boards scattered throughout the field office, I realize that I'm one of four other women in the room, including Emily. she's talking to Hotch and another agent at the opposite end of the room; Reid is unpacking his signature book bag and seems deep in thought. Rossi is reading a document. everyone around me seems to be in a hurry to do something, and I begin to feel dumb.

"you okay?" Morgan asks me. I realize that I've been standing with my marker hovering over the board. my fingertips press into my temple before I turn to him.

"yeah, definitely. just thinking." my mind travels to the map we've got pasted up and the red marker lines that Spencer has already created with the geographical profile.

"looks like we're getting the classic Seattle treatment." Derek points outside to the rain pelting the windows, streaming down the glass and distorting the glow of the city outside. it's gloomy today, with a slight chill running through the streets. I nod and turn back to my task, suddenly realizing something.

"he's willing to travel with the body." I mutter to myself. Morgan steps up next to me, crosses his arms across his chest.

"he must drive a vehicle that can conceal one, then." he glances over to Hotch to see what the unit chief has to say, but Spencer speaks up first.

"one in seven point four drivers in Seattle owns an SUV." it's like a flip switches at the mention of a statistic, diverting his attention from something nebulous in his mind to the tangible case. he's a little similar to a robot.

"an Explorer with tinted windows?" Morgan speaks again as he looks over the case photos.

"those rate higher among women." Spencer again.

"sure, but how do we know it's his car?" I wonder.

"what about a Jeep Cherokee?" Hotch chimes in, almost startling me with the deep register of his voice. I pull my bottom lip between my teeth as I think on it.

"Jeeps are more masculine." Reid comes close to me in order to examine the picture I'm holding. he smells like clean laundry and some nice soap scent that I can't place. maybe it's the gel he uses to slick back his hair. no cologne or aftershave. I don't think he'd need to shave, what with his smooth baby face.

Spencer has some special quirks that make him a little more interesting. he usually avoids physical contact with other people-- doesn't shake hands-- but at other times, he doesn't seem to have self-awareness. like right now, where the shoulder of his red sweater is just barely touching mine. I hand him the picture and step away.

"unsubs love to assert their masculinity."

Hotch nods along, encouraging me to share more of what I'm thinking. after swallowing down a lingering nervousness, I tap the push pin marking where the last body was dumped. "he dropped her out-of-state, so he probably has a previous knowledge of law enforcement. maybe he's got a criminal record?"

"good, Williams." Hotch praises me. my fist clenches triumphantly at my side as he turns to the agent who has been watching us intently. "when do we meet with your task force?"

"four." the man replies. I balk at this, my posture shifting. the shortest time constraint I've ever had here has been a full day. it's already one in the afternoon.

"you want an accurate profile by four today?" I glance between Morgan and Spencer, but the latter is rocking back and forth on his heels with his eyes glued to the white board. Morgan doesn't seem put off by it.

"we can do that." Hotch scowls, snapping shut the case file with a finality that tells me we're about to split up. "Dave and Morgan, head to the last dump site. Williams, Reid, I want you to talk to Heather's brother and try to find out what you can about her life. Prentiss and I will stay here in case of new developments."

I nod curtly, grab my jacket, and glance over at Spencer. he runs his hand over his hair, although I can't imagine what there is to smooth down, then walks over to me.

"you ready to go?" I ask, brandishing the file. he and I have only done two interviews together; I spent most of my beginning weeks working with Emily to get a feel for the job. both times with the boy genius have been fine, if not a little awkward.

he nods in answer to my question. "would you mind driving?"

"no license?" I tease to lighten the mood, but he doesn't get the joke. instead, he frowns at me with something of a distracted expression, adjusts his bag.

"no, I don't like driving in the rain."

"oh," I recover quickly and put a friendly smile on my face. "no problem."

"thanks." he walks ahead of me and I cringe at my own behavior. he acts so differently from earlier on the jet that I start to wonder if I did something wrong. maybe he's just in his head or something; I know I would be if I had an IQ that enormous.

when we get to the house of Heather Woodland's brother, a gorgeous golden lab greets us in the entryway. she puts her paws up on my legs and I reach down to scratch behind her ears with a smile on my face.

"Sandy, calm down." her owner grabs her collar gently to calm her. "sorry."

"no, it's fine, I love dogs." I wave it off and step inside. Spencer is eyeing Sandy warily, but she seems just as eager to say hi to him as she was to me. when she lets out a singular, enthusiastic bark, he startles.

"Mr. Woodland," I suppress my laugh by changing the subject. "I'm Special Agent Williams and this is Special Agent Dr. Reid."

we shake hands, my colleague giving his usual wave and polite smile. the interviewee takes in Spencer's appearance. I know what's coming.

"you look too young for medical school." Woodland says to Reid. this has happened a couple times since I joined the team, but Spencer never seems to mind. if anything, he lights up at the opportunity to share the reason for his official title.

"they're PhD's. three of them." he gives a little smile as we walk into the house, me shaking a few stray raindrops from my hair.

"so... are you a genius or something?" Heather's brother leads us past the hallway into the living room, which is unkempt and littered with pictures, catalogs, and toys. he must have kids in school right now. that would also explain the breed of dog.

"I don't believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified."

"he's being modest," I glance over at Spencer. "Dr. Reid can read 20,000 words a minute-- he's definitely a genius."

Woodland stares at Spencer for a second as he tries to fathom the speed at which someone's mind would have to turn in order to process all that information. I still can't imagine it. Spencer's eyes avoid Woodland's shyly. instead, he watches me as I pet Sandy.

soon after, we ask him about Heather's personality and tendencies. her brother is more than willing to give us all the information we need. I'm surprised, however, by my partner's ease at wandering around Woodland's house, flipping through the magazines on top of the TV and reading the spines of books on shelves. he's quite conspicuous about it.

about halfway through my mental list of questions, Sandy keeps jumping up and wagging her til.

"I'm gonna take her to the backyard quick," Woodland tells us. "one second."

he ducks out of the room and I wait until I know he's out of earshot before sidling up beside Reid.

"there's an immediate relationship established between a buyer and a seller," he tells me, holding up a Datsun Z catalog. we know that she was in the market for one. "if I want to coax a young woman into my car..."

"offer her a test drive." I finish his sentence. of course, within ten minutes of sifting through this woman's house, Spencer has figured out the ruse used to lure her. Woodland returns a moment later with a smile, but we tell him that we've gotten the information we need before leaving.

in the car, Spencer theorizes about the unsub's mental condition as I try to navigate traffic in the storm. thunder rumbles overhead, occasionally sending a vibration through the car. my knuckles tighten around the wheel a bit. I also hate driving in the rain. his rambles fills the silence, however, and somewhat soothe my nerves.

"he doesn't have the MO of a paranoid psychotic. dumping the bodies out in the open, with a weapon nearby... that doesn't align."

"he covers their eyes with duct tape multiple times over, though. he knows he's going to kill them, but he doesn't want them to see his face?" my fingertips drum over the wheel nervously.

"what's wrong?" Spencer asks suddenly, glancing at my hands and then at my face. I still my movements at the change in subject.

"huh? nothing. I just don't like driving in the rain, either."

"oh. I'm sorry." he straightens a bit in his seat. the apology surprises me a little, but he seems genuinely sympathetic. I guess I really don't know him that well.

"it's cool."

we fall into an awkward silence and I bite my lip. we should get back to talking about the case. heaven knows Spencer has more facts to spew, more theories to share about this unsub. anything is better than the gap in conversation. I open my mouth to say more about what we learned at the house, except Spencer speaks first.

"so... how are you liking working here?" he asks awkwardly. it takes a second for the question to register with me. he sounds uncomfortable whenever we're alone and that makes me uncomfortable in turn. where everyone else was quick to include me in their jokes and discussions, Reid always sounds like talking to me exhausts him. it's obvious that he's socially awkward. there's no judgement from me; I'm just surprised that he's pushing to talk about non work-related subjects.

"I like it," not really an accurate summation. I don't think a heart-to-heart is exactly the right move when talking to him. "a little stressful, though."

"you worked in sex crimes before, right?" he looks out the window. there isn't much to see except for the rain-blurred skyline. I nod.

"yep."

"that sounds... hard." he shifts in his seat as he tries to come up with more points of conversation. it's kind of endearing, honestly. I throw him a bone.

"so is profiling."

"why'd you switch?" his eyes flit over to mine as he quickly adds, "if you don't mind me asking."

I take a second to come up with an answer. of course, there's the classic response: I've always wanted to help people— which isn't wrong— it's also not the whole answer. all through college and the Academy, I had my head focused on one thing. I could interview killers and get inside their heads, but there's something entirely different that you don't get from pure research. and one person inspired that in me before I had finished high school.

"don't tell him I said this, but I really wanted to work with Rossi." I say in a hushed tone. there's a slight smile on my lips because I haven't told anyone on the team in fear of being teased. I don't think Spencer is likely to gossip with Rossi about me, though.

"really?" now he sounds surprised.

"I've read all his books and I've been to a couple lectures. he doesn't remember me, evidently." the thought is more funny than embarrassing. he spoke at my college a few years back and I recall being on the edge of my seat, trying to come up with the courage to ask the questions that filled my head. I was too shy.

"does he know you're a fan?" Spencer loosens up a bit.

"nope," we pull off the freeway as we near the field office. I stop at a red light and look over. "I didn't want to embarrass myself with the whole 'your work changed my life' spiel."

at this, Spencer lets out a short, nervous giggle. it's a nice sound, that laugh. it makes me smile when he seems to relax in his seat.

"that's exactly what I did." he says. I frown.

"you told him his books changed your life?" I blush as I realize I just inadvertently made fun of him.

"I, um... well, I got excited to talk about his research." he averts his gaze again and his cheeks turn a slight pink. there's a dimple in his cheek, I notice, that keeps tugging upward. this is my first time having a non-forced moment with Spencer alone; a wave of satisfaction washes over me as I realize the potential for another friend here.

"trust me, I get it." I laugh. we pull into the parking ramp for the field office and I find a spot by the door. Spencer hoists that bag into his lap and runs his hand through his hair. when I pull the key out of the ignition, he waits for me to get out of the car before we start walking toward the door.

it's small, but I appreciate that he doesn't run off without me. we don't talk as we walk, our footsteps echoing along the cement walls.

oh my god first chapter holy fuck! it's short, but I don't wanna overwhelm. I'm so excited for this book!

#spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #dr. reid #criminal minds #mgg #fanfic #fanfiction #wattpad #friends to lovers #BAU #slow burn

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cozy-neko · 3 years

Text

The Cherry On Top • 02 • 03 | Charity stream disaster • 04

Kenma checked his stream overlay one last time to make sure everything was set up correctly. The streamer was only ten minutes away from his scheduled 24-hour charity stream that Akaashi had set up for him in partnership with the energy drink company, Black Sheep. For every donation Kenma receives during his live stream, all proceeds will be 100% donated to help animal shelters in need of supplies.

For once, Kenma was actually excited about a partnership. As a lover of cats and raising three rescues himself, it wasn’t particularly a hard decision for Kenma to make when Black Sheep had approached him and brought up the idea of a partnership and a charity stream campaign in conjunction with the animal shelter Black Sheep was associated with.

That was why when his sponsorship with Black Sheep had been threatened by a rumor, Kenma ultimately made a public announcement to deny the rumor and personally reached out to the PR/Influencer team at Black Sheep to talk it out with them.

Now, three minutes prior to going live, Kenma’s phone buzzed multiple times. He glanced at the lit up screen and rolled his eyes. It was Kuroo who was blowing up his phone, and Kenma had a fairly decent idea of what the texts were about.

Last week, Kuroo and Kenma had met up with Akaashi and Bokuto for their monthly dinner meet up when Akaashi had mentioned Kenma’s upcoming charity stream.

“A 24-hour stream is too easy for Kenma; the gremlin routinely stays up at least 36-hours once a week anyways.” Kuroo let out a barking laugh as he flipped the meat that was grilling in front of the four friends.

“That’s besides the point, Kuroo.” Kenma rolled his eyes and leaned back in the vinyl booth. “I’m doing a charity stream. All donations I get during the stream goes towards the animal shelter that Black Sheep partners with.” Kenma made sure to slowly emphasize the word “charity” when he explained his upcoming project.

“You know, I’ve never seen Kenma so excited about a project,” Bokuto quipped as he eagerly tucked into his meal.

“It’s for a good cause and Kozume was quick to say yes,” Akaashi added as he flashed a small smile towards the flushed streamer. Kenma still wasn’t used to hearing people praise him, no matter how often he was always featured in esports commentary and articles.

“I have three cat rescues myself, so it was a no brainer,” he mumbled, averting eye contact. He opted to push around the burnt pieces of meat with his chopsticks around his plate instead.

“Aw, you’re embarrassed that you got caught being openly excited for your next project!” Kuroo smirked and nudged his friend. It was all friendly-banter, and Kenma knew that Kuroo meant well and was extremely happy for him, but he flushed harder as Bokuto and Akaashi chimed in to cheer on their friend.

“I’m just being a nice person. Maybe you should try it some day,” Kenma shot back.

“What do you mean?” Kuroo scoffed. “I’m always a nice person.”

Akaashi and Kenma rolled their eyes at Kuroo while Bokuto let out a good-natured laugh at Kuroo’s response.

“Hey, wait! You know what you should do to make your 24-hour stream more spicy?” There was a mischievous glint in Bokuto’s eyes as he waited for his friends to respond.

“Bokuto-san, whatever you’re thinking probably isn’t a go--”

“Drunk 24-hour stream!”

“Oh, nice!” Kuroo snapped his fingers and grinned his infamous Cheshire Cat smirk. Akaashi sighed and Kenma grimaced.

"I’m not going to take ideas from two drunks. And we barely sat down to eat, how are you two this drunk already?” Kenma wrinkled his nose.

Kenma unlocked his phone and quickly scanned through his group chat. Yup. There it was: a barrage of texts from Kuroo asking Kenma if he had his booze ready followed by a spam of suggestive eye emojis by Bokuto. Kenma was quick to notice that Akaashi had purposely chosen to ignore the group texts and offered no help in diverting the suggestions.

Kenma snorted quietly at Bokuto's message as he locked his phone. He looked up at the monitor to his right and read some comments that were starting to flood in his stream chat. He gave his camera a small smile and leaned back in his chair, answering some questions that caught his attention and saying "hi" to others.

Kenma usually liked to start his stream off rather chill by interacting with his viewers. After playing his music playlist and adjusting the volume, he finally announced his agenda for the day after a few minutes.

"Today I'm partnering with Black Sheep for a charity stream. It's going to be a 24-hour stream and we're gonna spend most of the time playing some League. All donations I get will go towards helping an animal shelter which you guys know I'm all for." Kenma paused as his donation notification sounded and his text-to-speech setting began to read the donation to him and his viewers.

"meowriachi donated $25: 24-hour stream? too ezpz kodzuken"

Kenma laughed and ran a hand through his messy half-up styled hair.

"I was telling my friends about today's stream and Kuroo said the same thing. Maybe in our next collaboration we'll do a longer stream if you guys want that. We'll also be able to have more fun and do more things, too."

Kenma was smart and sneaky. He always was. Kuroo did always say he was the brains of the team back in high school when they played volleyball together. Kenma was good at analyzing situations, and because of this strength, Kenma knew when to use certain words and situations to create benefits for him and his career. This was no exception. The streamer knew Black Sheep would be moderating his stream, so now the company had slight pressure to partner with him again if there was an in demand from his fans. And this was Kodzuken we were talking about. There was no doubt Kenma knew there would already be a second sponsorship in the works.

Kenma smirked. Easy peasy stream indeed.

Kenma loved his job. He truly did. It wasn't every day someone could wake up every day and actually look forward to going to work, and for that, Kenma was thankful. He was thankful that he had the skillsets to do well in competitive gaming and that he had a knack of being able to pick up mechanics of new games so easily. He was thankful that he had a fanbase that enjoyed his commentary and sarcastic humor, and a fanbase that supported and helped him build his brand from ground up.

Kenma knew he owed one-third of his success to his fans and another one-third to his own hard work and passion. But Kenma also knew he owed the last one-third of his success to his friends.

Not once did Kenma regret making Akaashi his manager; Akaashi had gotten him way more sponsorships than Kenma himself could've if he was still balancing streaming, content creation, and managing his own projects.

Kenma was thankful for Kuroo for always challenging him to step outside his comfort zone. Even when Kenma was irritated and didn't want to hear Kuroo's words of advice and encouragement, Kenma was still grateful for it all.

And Bokuto. Kenma guesses he can be thankful for Bokuto for always hyping him up when he needed it the most. Especially when he was extremely hung over from a night out of (forced) drinking and had barely ten minutes to wake up and set up his stream on time.

Yes, Kenma was truly thankful for his friends. But right now, Kenma wanted to kill them. He wanted to kill Kuroo and Bokuto for coming over to his house uninvited even after he warned them not to and for raiding his stream in real life.

Right now, Kenma was seething. One, he was in the middle of a very important sponsorship deal. Two, he was in the middle of a ranked game in League of Legends and he didn't want to lose his winning streak. And three, his two goofball friends had showed up to his house with alcohol and announced out loud to his viewers that Kenma would now be participating in a drunk 24-hour stream.

Kenma doesn't remember the last time he got this mad. What's worse was that Kenma's fans were all for it. His stream chat was getting spammed with poggers emotes, and it was difficult for Kenma to admit that he had been getting more and more donations ever since Kuroo and Bokuto had shown up and the alcohol was brought out. And because of that, Kenma had begrudgingly surrendered and cracked open a White Claw.

Except he didn't stop only at one; not if Kuroo and Bokuto could help it. And at only about 5'8" with a smaller build, Kenma unfortunately fell victim to being a lightweight. And with Kuroo and Bokuto, kings of being instigators, were there to egg him on along with his stream chat, Kenma downed can after can.

Just a little something to take the edge off a work week, right?

end notes:

→ kenma’s twitch stream took me 30 minutes to piece together 😪

→ if you see the same comments on kenma’s twitch chat twice... no you didn’t 😀🔪

→ also peep the stream title change 👀

→ kenma’s the type to use scuffed candids of his friends as their contact photos, but it didn’t work out too well. he actually respects akaashi enough to use a decent photo, and bokuto never takes a bad photo. ever. i guess kuroo’s the only one he can easily clown.

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#the cherry on top #kenma x reader #kenma kozume #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smau #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu kenma #kozume kenma #haikyuu smau series #hq x reader #hq kenma #writings

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annerbhp · 4 years

Text

Lucky

- part one

- part two

- part three

- part four

- part five

- part six

- part seven

- part eight

- part nine

Part Ten

As they settle in for their first weekend in the Burrow, Ginny is pleased to see that Ron is behaving himself for the most part.

Soon enough he and Harry seem as chummy as ever. And, no, she is not warmed by their ridiculous friendship and how happy it clearly makes both of them just to be around each other. Mostly because Ron has also done everything he can to ensure that Harry and Ginny are never alone for even a minute.

Though it’s Molly who puts a ward across Ginny’s door.

“I’m very happy for you too,” she says, patting Ginny’s hand. “But there will be no nonsense under my roof.”

Ginny bites back the impulse to ask what she means by nonsense. Or more importantly, just what kind of things Molly herself got up to her fifth year to make her so suspicious.

Ron seems to have restrained himself from teasing Harry about the ward, probably rightly realizing he would be mortified if he knew. No, Ron saves the teasing all for her, the git.

But no one is mad or upset or making Harry feel bad, so not being able to find a minute to kiss him again the last 36 hours seems a small enough price to pay. Or so she tells herself.

Ron and Harry are currently at the sink, trimming sprouts, while Ginny sets the table. Harry is filling Ron in on everything they overheard Draco say the night of the party.

Ron glances back at her near the beginning of the recitation—though whether because he isn’t certain she should hear this or because he’s questioning her loyalties, she doesn’t know, because Harry says, “Ginny was there too, she heard it.”

Harry seems glad to have someone to back him up, especially since Ron seems dubious. Not that Ginny doesn’t have to correct Harry a few times when he overstates things.

“It’s definitely suspicious though!” Harry says.

“Yes,” Ginny agrees. “It is.” She still intends to give it the proper thought it deserves, though she’s still not sure what business it is of hers, what Draco may or may not be getting up to. If he’s a Death Eater.

“I take it Malfoy isn’t shouting about his evil plans in the Slytherin common room then,” Ron says, looking back at her.

“No,” Ginny says. “He’s rarely there from what I’ve seen.”

“See!” Harry says, grabbing onto the tidbit with typical zeal. “Suspicious!”

“But I’m not there much either,” she feels the need to clarify. “So maybe I’ve just missed him.”

“You aren’t?” Ron asks. “Why not? I mean, it’s not my favorite place, but I don’t remember it being that unpleasant.”

Ginny’s eyes narrow. “When have you ever been in the Slytherin common room?”

Ron and Harry share shifty glances.

“Uh, never,” Ron says. “Just guessing, really.”

Ginny looks at Harry, daring him to lie to her as blatantly as her brother just did.

He glances uneasily between the two of them. “Our second year,” he says, Ron immediately groaning and shoving at Harry’s shoulder.

“Whipped already,” Ron mutters.

Harry glares at him. “You want me to lie to her?”

“Fine,” Ron says. “We made polyjuice to get in. We thought maybe Malfoy was the one opening the chamber.”

Ginny feels something cold slide down her spine. “Oh.” She shoves the feeling down and away. Away, away, away. When she can breathe again, she says, “Right house, wrong person, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” Ron says, having the grace to look uncomfortable. “Guess so.”

Harry’s looking at her too, but she can’t quite get herself to meet his gaze. “Well, what I’m hearing from this new tidbit is that this is hardly the first time you’ve suspected Draco of some evil plot.”

Ron snorts. “Harry pretty much suspects him of an evil plot every year.”

Harry scowls. “That’s not true. And besides, this year we already have proof!”

“One conversation is hardly proof,” Ron says.

“What about Borgin and Burke’s?”

“We all agreed we didn’t clearly see anything there. And you told Dumbledore, didn’t you? He didn’t think it was anything.”

“Which is stupid!” Harry exclaims. “I mean, the thing with Katie too!”

It does seem like a lot of suspicious things happening around Draco. But hearing that Harry spoke with Dumbledore and was dismissed is just as interesting. Unless he’s exaggerating that too. “Maybe they’re already doing something about it,” Ginny says. “The teachers. And they don’t want you getting in the way.”

Harry turns, opening his mouth with clear outrage, but she cuts across him before he can speak. “I’m not saying that’s right or okay, I’m just saying maybe it’s what they think.”

He gives her a mulish look, taking it out on the poor sprouts.

The conversation doesn’t go any further, the twins bursting into the kitchen a moment later. They come up behind Ron, arms thrown over his shoulders. “What is this we hear about you and a certain Lavender Brown?”

“What?” Ron sputters.

Fred leans in closer. “Sucking face every available moment?”

Ron’s ears burn an alarming shade of red, craning his head around to look at Ginny. “I can’t believe you told them!”

She lifts her hands. “I didn’t.”

“Oh, no,” Fred confirms. “Our slippery little sister has failed us on that account. We heard it from a very reliable source. A Gryffindor source.”

Ginny rolls her eyes.

George nods. “Third-hand from someone who witnessed it first-hand!”

“Though from what we’ve heard,” Fred adds, “there is no one at Hogwarts who has not witnessed it first-hand.”

Ron pushes them off him, beginning to look desperate. “I think you should be a bit more concerned with who Harry has been snogging!”

“Wow,” Ginny says. “I thought Gryffindor were supposed to be brave. Way to throw your best mate to the skrewts.”

But Ron’s desperate ploy pays off immediately, the twins off and running, and nothing in the world to stop them as they turn on Harry instead.

George looks delighted. “Has little Harry caught himself a paramour at long last as well? What a bumper year for Gryffindor year six!”

Fred leans into Harry. “Has the Chosen One been chosen?”

“Tell us, Harry,” George says.

“Someone slip something into your pumpkin juice?” Fred asks.

Harry scowls. “Of course not.”

“Ah, a bit touchy,” George says, looking over at Fred. “He must really like this girl. It is a girl, isn’t it?”

“Does she know what a scrawny git you are?”

“Hopefully she doesn’t assume the Boy-Who-Lived is suave and cool.”

“Maybe she’s impressed by his Quidditch skills.”

“Likes a bloke who can handle his broom.”

Harry may look like he wants to die and sink into the floor, but Ron is the one looking more and more miserable the longer the twins talk. Serves him right.

Ginny just leans back, content to let them dig a hole as deep as possible for themselves.

“Tell us, Harry,” George insists.

“What’s she like?” Fred asks.

“Easy on the eyes?”

“A scintillating conversationalist?” Fred wags his eyebrows.

“Yes, tell us, Harry,” Ginny breaks in, feeling inexplicably perverse. “Is she a good kisser?”

The twins crow in approval, giving her proud looks as she appears to jump on to the ‘give Harry shit’ train.

Harry’s the one to turn and look at her in surprise, but she just lifts her eyebrow in challenge.

“No need to be bashful,” she says, fighting hard to keep a smile off her face.

He regards her a moment, like he’s trying to figure out what game she’s playing. “A gentleman never tells.”

The twins groan.

“Nice save,” Ginny says, rather pleasantly remembering their leisurely afternoon on the train.

“Pathetic,” Fred accuses.

“Well, it’s all I’ll say about it,” Harry says, even as a slow grin curves his lips like maybe he’s thinking about it to. Ginny gets stuck staring at his mouth for a moment.

Fred hoots with laughter. “From the look on his face, I’d say that’s a strong yes.”

“A very strong yes,” George agrees.

“You guys—” Ron tries to interrupt, looking more and more pained. But Ginny has no intention of letting him help the twins out of this before she’s good and ready.

“Ron,” she cuts across him. “Don’t be a spoilsport. We all want to know about Harry’s mystery woman.” She leans forward on her elbow, propping her chin up on her hand. “Go on, Harry. Enlighten us.”

“Yes, do tell,” George says.

“We want details,” Fred agrees.

Ginny settles back to wait, more curious to hear what he’ll say than she probably should be.

“Well,” Harry says, once he realizes Ginny has no intention of rescuing him from this, “she’s definitely got a wicked sense of humor. Downright depraved some might say.”

Ginny fights hard to keep her countenance, and Harry can clearly tell, a small smirk on his face, like maybe he’s settling in to enjoy himself. It only makes her want to kiss him more.

“Good, good,” Fred says. “It’s important to find someone capable of taking a joke.”

Harry nods. “Yes, well, she doesn’t take shit from anyone either. Especially me.” He pauses, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “Best of all, she’s almost as good as I am at Quidditch.”

“Almost?” Ginny says, forgetting herself.

“Also,” Harry continues, clearly either not recognizing or just unmoved by the murder in her eyes, “even though she would deny it with her dying breath, she is just as competitive as any Gryffindor.”

“You take that back,” she says, eyes narrowing.

Harry leans against the sink, grinning at her as he crosses his arms over his chest, clearly proud to have gotten a rise out of her. “Make me.”

Ginny pushes to her feet. “Oh, it’s on. You, me, brooms, the paddock. Now.”

“Wait, what?” she hears George say, but she’s far too focused on Harry to care.

“It’s nearly dark!” Ron tries to reason. “And cold!”

“So what?” Harry says, clearly just as keen.

“Yeah,” Ginny says. “Fred and George will help you finish up the sprouts. Won’t you, brother dears?” Crossing over to Harry, she grabs the front of his shirt, tugging him towards the back door. “Harry and I have a few things to take care of.”

They are walking out the door when she hears George says, “What the hell?”

“You mean Harry and Ginny—?” Fred starts to say, voice incredulous.

The door shuts, cutting off any further conversation.

Harry shakes his head as he follows her out into the garden. “I meant it. Depraved.”

“You had just as much fun with that, admit it,” Ginny says, leading him around towards the front of the house until they are out of view of the kitchen windows.

“Depraved,” he repeats, even as he reaches for her waist, like it’s also occurred to him that this is the first time they’ve been alone since they arrived.

“And a really good kisser?” she asks, her hand sneaking up behind his neck, Quidditch already forgotten. Or rather put off for another day. She has no intention of forgetting it.

“Yeah,” he says, “not a competitive bone in your body.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“I should have added bossy,” he says, not giving her a chance to respond before he’s kissing her.

And god, it’s almost better that she remembers, her entire body tingling as he kisses and kisses and kisses her, brothers and mysteries and competitions all completely forgotten. Neither of them even paying any attention to the two soft cracks nearby as more people arrive.

“So was anyone going to tell me that Harry and Ginny are together?” they hear Bill ask loudly as he wrenches open the front door to the Burrow. “Or was I just supposed to walk by them snogging in the garden to figure it out?”

#lucky #annerbfic #yes #i am enjoying myself

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noonmutter · 3 years

Note

Kinky Questions, Go!! ALL 50! At least the ones you haven't gotten yet.

*knucklecrack*

1: Kitchen Counter, Couch, or on top of the dryer?

"Yes. If I gotta pick one, couch. Th' dryer's noisy an' I like bein' able t' hear th' other person.

2: Your last sexual encounter: Good or Bad and why:

Answered here!

3: A fictional person that you think would be good in bed:

(I actually don't know any ingame fiction to draw an answer from here, sorry. <.<)

4: Something that never fails to make you horny:

"Pullin' me int' you. Up, down, chest-t'-chest, back-t'-chest, whatever. Not often I get manhandled, y'ken?"

5: Where is one place you would never have sex:

"I mean, never say never, but somewhere it'd take some real convincin' t'get me t' do it? Th' meetin' space at th' center o' th' Dreamgrove. I'd sooner set my 'air on fire than fuck where th' statue o' Malorne might watch me, an' Remulos would not approve."

(Rest below the cut! Yes I did do all of them!)

6: The most awkward moment during a sexual experience was when:

"...Wakin' up in a pile o' people after an especially long bender, none of 'om I recognized, an' not one stitch o' clothin' anywhere in sight except fer a gnome-sized miniskirt. An' there were no gnomes in th' pile! "Days like tha' are why I don't fuck drunk anymore."

7: Weirdest thing that ever made you horny:

"Tenderizin' steak." Sigh. "Pretty sure it was th' smell o' th' raw meat, mostly.

8: What is the best way to sexually bind someone: Handcuffs, Rope, or Other [if other please explain]:

"With my bare 'ands, or with my teeth 'oldin' somethin' sensitive. Wolf's snout kin fit all th' way 'round most people's throats without actually bitin' down as long as I get th' canines all th' way across, an' as long as neither of us move too terribly much, it's great fun."

9: What is the fastest way to make you horny:

"Hook a finger in my collar an' pull me t' yer eye level. Trouble is, if we're not already pretty damn close an' y' start grabbin' at my collar, I might punch y'."

10: Top or bottom?

"Switch."

11: We were about to ____________ but then ______________ [example: we were about to have sex but then his mom walked in] "We were about t' sneak off t' start our 'oneymoon but then I tripped through a portal some jackass dropped in th' middle o' th' weddin' party an' 'ad t' fly all th' way back first.

12: Is one orgasm enough? Are multiple orgasms necessary?

"Sometimes it's enough, sometimes it's a start, sometimes it's not even th' point. Really depends on th' mood at th' moment, dunnit? I like t'go as many rounds as either of us kin stand, most o' th' time, but I def'nitely find plenty o' value in just one long, slow go tha' ends when it ends.

13: Something that you have hidden in your room that you don’t want anyone to find:

His expression was less jovial than for most of these questions. "Th' collar I made for Vandy."

14: Weirdest nickname a significant other has ever called you:

"Squigglebird. Long story."

15: Two things you like [or dislike] about oral sex:

"Like th' noises it makes a person make--vocally, I mean--an' th' views it gives o' th' person I'm goin' down on an' th' person tha's goin' down on my. Don't like th' taste all tha' much, really 'ate some o' th' noises yer lips an' throat make if yer a li'l overzealous."

16: Weirdest sexual act some has performed [or tried to perform] on/with you:

"Li'l inflatable toy thingie in m' backside. Felt alright fer a while, cuz I mean it wasn't like it was th' first time I'd 'ad anythin' in there, but ah... she kept goin' past my willin'ness, an' it got pretty damn uncomfortable pretty damn fast. I might be willin' t' try it again but not without a lotta thought b'fore'and, an' not with my 'ands bound.

17: Have you ever tasted yourself? [If no, would you?] [If yes, what did you think?]

"Yeah." He shrugged. "Tasted like cum. Nothin' special."

18: Is it ever okay to not use a condom:

"I mean, if y'both agree to it an' y'don't fool around with anybody else, then yeah it's fine. Overwhelmin' majority o' th' time, I wrap up, even with m'wives."

19: Who was the sexiest teacher you ever had?

"...I din't 'ave any teachers I thought were sexy? My first shan'do was a 'andsome elven woman 'o could arm-wrestle a grizzly an' win, but she wasn't wha' I'd call sexy. Too gruff, too keen t' be alone."

20: A food that you would like to use during a sexual experience:

"Not somethin' I really think about in advance, t'be honest. Cook or no cook, food just kinda 'appens on a whim."

21: How big is too big:

"Can't get my mouth 'round it is usually a problem. Length isn't so much a concern, just means y' won't get t' bury it all th' way after a certain point unless y' want me dead."

22: One sexual thing you would never do:

"Mess with any bod'ly fluids besides cum. I tried real 'ard t'understand tha' one an' I just can't, sorry. Gross."

23: Biggest turn on:

"Depends on th' person; wha's 'ot from one is wierd comin' from another. Pickin' out of a hat? When Val'rin says somethin', then rolls 'is eyes up t' look at me an' tacks on a plaintive li'l 'Sir?' at th'end."

24: Three spots that drive you insane:

"Pretty much anywhere on m' throat, th' undersides o' my wrists, an' my 'air. Partic'larly yankin' on it. Just... don't come up an' do it outta nowhere. Like with m' collar, tha' shit'll get y' punched an' I'd argue y' prolly deserve it."

25: Worst possible time to get horny:

"Most times aren't really tha' bad, Iunno... middle of a warzone I guess?"

26: Do you like it when your sexual partner moans:

"I'm kinna suspicious of anybody 'o doesn't. Wha' kinna person doesn't love tha' kinda instant feedback? Tell me I'm doin' a good job, tell me 'ow t' do a better job, tell me just 'ow blown yer mind is by losin' track o' words, sing me a song."

27: Worst sexual idea you ever had:

"Really dunno why I thought it was a good idea t' let a blindfolded guy toss me anywhere, least of all into a bed with a solid headboard on it."

He touched the back of his head in remembered pain.

28: How much fapping is too much fapping:

"When yer chafed an' still 'aven't finished cuz yer too damned raw and desensitized t' get off, it's prolly time t' stop fer a while."

29: Best sexual complement you ever got:

Answered here!

30: Bald, landing strip, Jumanji:

"Landin' strip, ideally. I kin deal with whatever but tha's th' most convenient amount. Less potential fer mess."

31: Is it good sex if you don’t nut?

"What a bizarre question, 'course it is. Shit, sometimes tha's 'alf th' point."

32: Fill in the blank: “If they ____________, we are fuckin”

"Bite my neck 'r pin me t' a wall."

33: What your favorite part of your body:

"My 'air. It's gotten damned difficult t' take care of, but th' tradeoff's pretty worth it."

34: Favorite foreplay activities:

"Touchin'. Just... touchin'. Runnin' my fingers real light an' soft across ev'ry...single...inch...of a playmate's body. Learnin' th' curves, th' blemishes, th' scars, th' ins, th' outs, th' sensitive spots, th' ticklish bits, th' fav'rites all by touch. I kin do tha' fer hours if they'll let me."

35: Love (>,<, or =) Sex For those of us who don’t remember our math that's “greater than, less than, or equal to]

"Does not equal. Th' two kin be completely unrelated t'one another an' tha's perfec'ly fine. They kin en'hance each other when they're both involved, but they aren't incomplete without one another at all."

36: What do you wear to bed?

"If I kin get away with it, nothin'. I run 'ot these days, it's real easy t' overheat if I wear stuff t' sleep.

37: When was the first time you masturbated:

"Gods, Iunno. Thirteen? Fifteen? Somewhere in there."

38: Do you have any nude/masturbating pictures/video of yourself?

"Not tha' I keep fer very long. I make 'em an' send 'em t' people tha' I made 'em for, then I get rid of 'em cuz I don't wanna watch m'self wankin' or whatever."

39: Have you ever/when was the last time you had sex outside?

"So many times, gods alive. Last time was a few days ago, if y' count th' back acres on our property as outside enough."

40: Have/would you ever have sex outside?

Leon just kinda snorted. (See previous answer!)

41: Have/would you ever had a threesome?

"Sev'ral times, an' I would 'appily do so again with th' right people. Fun, but occasionally tricky t' figger out."

42: What is one random object you’ve used to masturbate?

"Most o' th' time I'm very borin' an' just stick t' my 'and an' maybe a dildo, but I got one o' those vibratin' sleeve thingers not too long ago tha' I've been meanin' t' try out..."

43: Have/would you ever masturbate at work/school?

"No, an' maybe. If I were still workin' in a kitchen where other people 'ad t' work an' there's food ev'rywhere, it'd be an absolutely not. I work in a private workshop by th' 'ouse now, so I kin get away with it more, long as 'm careful. Thus far I 'aven't been so tempted tha' I couldn't make it back in th' house first, though."

44: Have/would you ever have sex on a plane?

"Never been in one, be willin' t' try. I've 'eard 'ow tiny those bathrooms are."

45: What is one song you’d like to have sex to?

"...gonna 'ave t' ask me that'un again in a few months when I know more songs, sorry."

46: What is something nonsexual that makes you horny?

Answered here!

47: Most attractive celebrity?

"Do th' Tarts count as celebrities? I'm not even gonna try t' pick one, but tha's all I got."

48: Do you watch gay/lesbian porn? why/why not?

"Not a big porn-watcher in gen'ral, my life feels like a goddamned romance novel as it is. Not often I need more'n a couple o' particularly fond mem'ries."

49: If a child was born on the occasion of the last time you had sex, how old would that child be right now?

"Four days."

50: Has anyone ever posted nude pictures of you online?

(Hard to answer this one since the internet at large isn't really a thing in WoW, at least not in a widely-accepted enough way for me to answer it...)

51: What is one thing that NEVER makes you horny?

"Put-downs. Don't call me slut or boy or bitch--gods, especially not bitch--or th' like if y'want me t' go 'ome with y'."

52: Do you have stretch marks? (How do you feel about them? Has anyone ever had a problem with them?)

"Not tha' I've seen."

53: Do you like giving head? (why/why not)

"Like givin' it cuz it makes m' playmate feel real nice, don't like th' flavor s' much."

54: How do you feel about tattoos on someone you are interested in?

"Doesn't make a dif'rence t' me, aside from most tattoos bein' pretty."

55: How would you feel about taking someones virginity?

"Done it, though I'm not a fan o' th' phrasin'. They put some trust in me, I din't take anythin'."

56: Is there any food you would NOT recommend using during a sexual encounter?

"Nothin' spicy. Period. Just don't. It's not worth it."

57: Is there anything you do on Tumblr that you would not like your significant other to see?

(Another one that doesn't really have an answer in this context.)

58: Do you own any sex toys? (what is it? (how long have you had it?)

Leon burst out laughing and pointed at the full-size steamer trunk at the foot of his bed. "Tha's not even close t' all of it, either. Gods alive, wha' a question t' ask me!"

59: Would you give your significant other unrestricted access to your Tumblr for a day?

"Wouldn't give 'em unrestricted access t' anythin' private o' mine fer a day. If it's tha' private t' begin with, it's cuz it's my safe 'aven, an' they respect tha', same as I do their private stuff."

60: Would you be offended if your significant other suggested you get plastic surgery?

"A li'l bit if it came outta nowhere, but I've talked a fair bit about wishin' I could get rid o' some o' my scars. It's not somethin' I wouldn't consider tryin'."

61: Would you rather be a pornstar or a prostitute?

"Pretty 'appy doin' th' latter as it is. Don't think I'd wanna try th' recorded stuff, it seems like it'd be really awkward t' do tha' fer a cam'ra crew an' with somebody 'o ain't really enjoyin' it."

62: Do you watch porn?

"Not really. Most of it's not int'restin' t' me."

63: How small is too small?

"'Too small' is 'ard fer me t' quantify. I 'aven't found anythin' too small fer me t' work with some'ow."

64: Have you ever been called a freak? Why?

Bit of a flat look. "Worgen."

65: Who gave you your last kiss? Did it mean anything?

"Me an' th' guy 'o fucked me on th' fence out back shared quite a few kisses b'fore, durin', an' after. Mostly they meant 'fuck yer hot.'"

66: Would you switch phones with your significant other for a day?

"I mean, I could. Nothin' on there I wouldn't want any of 'em t' see. Be a bit inconvenient though."

67: Do you feel comfortable going “commando”?

"Frankly I'm more comfortable tha' way than otherwise. Spent too long with a big ol' poof o' fur around m' crotch t' be comfy with most undies. Same reason I'm not overly fond o' shoes either."

68: Would you have a problem with going down on someone if they hadn’t shaved their pubic hair?

"Purely in a logistical sense, yeah. I kin still go t' town an' do thin's right, but it's... sloppy. Those 'airs seem t' WANT t' get in yer mouth, an' all tha', an' it's just so much messier overall."

69: If you could give yourself head, would you?

"'O says I can't?"

70: Booty or Boobs?

"I am very much an ass man."

71: If you had a penis, what would you name it?

"I do, but I didn't. Namin' it seems strange."

72: Have you ever been on an official date?

"Sev'ral, but all of 'em only took place in th' last few years. Never when I was growin' up."

73: Have you ever cheated on someone? (Why?)

"No, an' I never will, an' you kin quote me on tha'."

74: If you were a stripper, what would your name be?

"I 'aven't th' faintest idea 'ow tha' works."

75: Have you ever had sex in your parents bed? (Would you?)

"Nope. Never 'ad th' opportunity, an' I think I'd rather throw up on th' floor an' eat it."

76: How would you react if you found out your parents had sex in your bed?

"Sweet, I'm gettin' a new bed!"

77: What was your reaction the first time you saw a penis/vagina

"Assumin' we're not talkin' about my own bits... 'That's not gonna fit!' fer a dick, an' 'This is a lot less sexy than th'other lads made it out t'be' fer a cooch."

78: If you had a penis/vagina for a day, what are five things you would do?

Answered here!

79: Oral, Anal, or Vaginal?

"Yes."

80: What’s the first thing you look at on someone of the opposite gender?

"Their face. Also 'ow they carry themselves. But mostly their face."

( @pinpep @shckaewynn @valarin-sunstorm for mentions )

#prompty things #leon #SUCK IT RANEK

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linskywords · 4 years

Text

criminal-minds-fanfiction wrote a bunch of questions for authors that you’re supposed to let people ask you, buuuut I felt like answering all of them instead of doing my actual job this afternoon. 😄 Here we go:

1) How old were you when you first starting writing fanfiction?

Like 25 maybe? I started writing about a year after I started reading it. I had a fanfiction-deprived adolescence, y’all.

2) What fandoms do you write for and do you have a particular favourite if you write for more than one?

The hockey boys pulled me in years ago and they haven’t let me go. I do sometimes write other things: I almost always participate in Yuletide, and I’ve actually written a bunch of Animorphs fic under a different name (ask me if you want to see it!). Mostly hockey RPF, though.

3) Do you prefer writing OC’s or reader inserts? Explain your answer.

Haha neither. Well, I guess OC’s, if I had to choose -- I don’t read or write reader inserts. But I tend to keep OC’s for original fiction.

4) What is your favourite genre to write for?

I was very confused about fic having genres before I realized this was probably referring to the genre of the canon works. Um...sports. :D

5) If you had to choose a favourite out of all of your multi chaptered stories, which would it be and why?

Don’t make me choose my favorite child. Um, probably the first wolfverse story -- I don’t know if it’s the best one, but I’m very grateful to it for starting the ‘verse!

6) If you had to delete one of your stories and never speak of it again, which would it be and why?

None of them, if that’s an option. If I really had to choose...probably the Kirk/Spock fic I never finished even after uploading it to AO3 and promising to finish it this time. I still want to finish it!! But it would be the first to go.

7) When is your preferred time to write?

I don’t have a strong preference. Afternoon/evening. I like having multi-hour blocks, and I use the Forest app to keep me off my phone while I do it.

8) Where do you take your inspiration from?

Plot bunnies come from all over the place: random thoughts, memes, real-life conversations, suggestions from other fandom people. I tend to have a pretty strong “THIS IS A STORY I WANT TO WRITE” response when something grabs me the right way.

9) In your xxx fic, what’s your favourite scene that you wrote?

Haha this is probably why I’m not supposed to just answer all of these in order. XD I’ll answer for my current WIP: the scene where Geno kisses Sid for the first time. So soft. So angsty. 😈 (My own story has cursed me to love Geno. I am doomed.)

10) In your xxx fic, why did you decide to end it like that? Did you have an alternative ending in mind?

In general: I know how my stories are going to end when they start. Sometimes it does evolve a bit as I write. One thing I’d like to play with is including more of the main characters being together at the end of the story, instead of ending it at the moment when they get together; the latter makes sense from a tension perspective, but I’ve been finding when I read lately that I want more of the happy times at the end, so I’m going to try to move in that direction.

11) Have you ever amended a story due to criticisms you’ve received after posting it?

Only for typos, I think.

12) Who is your favourite character to write for? Why?

Ooooh. Either Patrick Kane or Jonathan Toews. There’s something so compelling to me about Patrick’s fanon voice. And every love interest in every original story I try to write is Jonny.

13) Who is your least favourite character to write for? Why?

I...don’t really write about characters I don’t like? I wish Auston Matthews would shave his mustache.

14) How did you come up with the title for the xxx? - You can ask about multiple stories.

About fifty percent of the titles I come up with are desperate scrambles because I’ve got nothing. The other fifty percent I have a perfect song lyric for from the start.

15) If you write OC’s, how do you decide on their names?

I only write OC’s in original fiction, but: I’ve been phonebanking lately, and I’ve been writing down all the good names I come across. The best so far is someone with the last name Quackenboss.

16) How did you come up with the idea for xxx?

MAGIC.

17) Post a line from a WIP that you’re working on.

Oh...oh no. Um.

“It doesn’t matter what he was thinking about. His knot popped; that’s the important thing.”

Some of you can probably guess what that’s about. :)

18) Do you have any abandoned WIP’s? What made you abandon them?

Mostly on my computer. I have a lot of beginnings of stories I haven’t finished yet; many of them I’ll probably go back to. I tend not to post things until I’m done or close to done with them. (That one Star Trek fic being an exception. Mea culpa.)

19) Are there any stories that you’ve written that you’d really love to do a sequel to?

YES. The 1988 timer one and the 1988 story where Patrick’s a girl who sneaks onto the Blackhawks in disguise. I’d love to do a Bennguin version of both of those.

20) Are there any stories that you wished you’d ended differently?

Hm. Some of them I think I rushed a little. More Than I Could Ever Promise, I think it needs a good old-fashioned battle scene in the mountains at the end to really round out the plot.

21) Tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire?

Have I mentioned astolat? What, only two or three hundred times? I should mention her again, then. Give me that woman’s ability to plot. Inject it into my veins.

22) Do you have a story that you look back on and cringe when you reread it?

Haha. I often have slightly cringy moments in my old stories. You Made My Life an Adventure, I definitely didn’t really know what I was doing yet...

23) Do you prefer listening to music when you’re writing or do you need silence?

I usually listen to music.

24) How do you feel about writing smutty scenes?

Turned on.

25) Have you ever cried whilst writing a story?

Yes. The sequel to My Heart Forgets to Beat.

26) Which part of your xxx fic was the hardest to write?

The Sid/Geno wolfverse story I’m working on now is maybe the hardest thing I’ve ever written. The language barrier is such a new challenge for me.

27) Do you make a general outline for your stories or do you just go with the flow?

I don’t formally outline, but I tend to have a sense of the major plot beats. One reason I love writing fic is that the plot and world tend to be straightforward enough for that. I have a lot more trouble doing that with original fiction.

28) What is something you wished you’d known before you started posting fanfiction?

This will radically reduce the amount of time I spend writing original fiction.

29) Do you have a story that you feel doesn’t get as much love as you’d like?

Like You Have a Secret I think is less read than some of the others because it’s het, but I really love it. Similarly, some of my stories that are inspired by other works (Tangled, Doctor Who, The Giver) tend to be read less because people think they need to know the source material, when really I deviate from the source material so much it’s not important.

30) In contrast to 29 is there a story which gets lots of love which you kinda eye roll at?

Huh. Probably not. I’m definitely surprised when some stories take off -- Kinda Narrows It Down I wrote pretty quickly, on a whim, and I was surprised by the extent to which it resonated with people. Turns out lots of people think Tyler was coming out in that tweet. XD

31) Send me a fic recommendation and I’ll post it for my followers to see! (The asker is to send the rec not the answerer)

Ooh. Ignoring the terms of this question, but: I just read this TK/Patty story and loooved it. It’s a different take on werewolves than the one I use in wolfverse, and it’s super compelling:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24029188

32) Are any of your characters based on real people?

Hahahahahaha. (I mean...less so than you might think.)

33) What’s the biggest compliment you’ve gotten?

I absolutely love it when people write screaming flaily responses to my fic. Also anytime anyone says that they’ve been having a tough time and my story was exactly what they needed. Maybe my favorite was the responses to More Than I Could Ever Promise that told me it read like a novel; that meant a lot to me right then.

34) What’s the harshest criticism you’ve gotten?

Fandom is amazing; people almost never give me concrit. I did have someone ask once if I randomly chose when to stop writing and just ended my stories there. I was pretty offended, since of course that’s not true at all, but I can see where they were coming from: my stories tend to wrap up after the characters get together, and sometimes there’s a lot of potential story left to tell at that point. But stories have to end sometime.

35) Do you share your story ideas with anyone else or do you keep them close to your chest?

I tend to share them! I find other people’s enthusiasm to be strongly motivating, and sometimes people have awesome suggestions I wouldn’t have thought of.

36) Can you give us a spoiler for one of your WIP’s?

Well, I only have the one. XD Sid...is about to have an important conversation with Mario.

37) What’s the funniest story you’ve written?

Ooh, I’m not sure I’m the write person to answer! No idea, really. My recent TK/Patty is probably pretty funny. Or maybe Quality Time, where Patrick doesn’t understand why he keeps losing track of time when he’s cuddling with Jonny. Anything with a super dumb protagonist, probably.

38) If you could collab with any other writer on here, who would it be? (Perhaps this question will inspire some collabs!) If you’re shy, don’t tag the blog, just name it.

Wow, I have no idea. I’ve never really written a story with someone, so I’m not sure how that would work. I want to say astolat again but honestly I’d be too intimidated.

...no, I’m gonna say astolat. Even if I made a fool of myself I think I would learn a ton.

39) Do you prefer first, second or third person?

Third. For some original stuff I like first person, but third feels right for the hockey boys.

40) Do people know you write fanfiction?

My close friends do. Most of my friends have the vague idea I write fic, but they don’t know my username or anything.

41) What’s you favourite minor character you’ve written?

Patrick Sharp. No question.

42) Song fic - What made you decide to use the song xxx for xxx.

I will legit listen to a new album with a doc open to write down promising lyrics. Titles are HARD, y’all.

43) Has anyone ever guessed the plot twist of one of your fics before you posted it?

I think people guessed where the Tangled fic was going. Though I also liked the guesses that it would be about Patrick’s mullet. XD I don’t really mind when people guess twists -- in the kind of story I write, it’s more about the experience of reading it than about surprise!

44) What is the last line you wrote?

“His parents have always been very respectful of any choices Sid’s wanted to make. They haven’t pried into his private life when he’s tried to set boundaries. But they’re wolves, and they know him a lot better than Jordy does. Sid isn’t going to be able to keep it a secret from them what he’s going through.”

...no guarantee it survives in that form. :D

45) What spurs you on during the writing process?

Getting the story out of my head and into reality! Spoon out that lake, baby.

I also do love the prospect of posting it for people to enjoy and respond to. It’s one of the reasons I find fic so much more rewarding than original fiction, where the timeline to a readership is so much longer.

46) I really loved your xxx fic. If you were ever to do a sequel, what do you think might happen in it?

Things, probably.

47) Here’s a fic title - insert a made up title. What would this story be about?

This exercise might be going off the rails a bit. (If anyone does want to pose this to me, feel free!)

48) What’s your favourite trope to write?

Ooh. Mutual pining. Friends to lovers. Werewolves. :D

49) Can you remember the first fic you read? What was it about?

The first fic I ever, ever read was a random Kirk/Spock one I found through google, and I was like “OMG IS THIS WHAT AROUSAL FEELS LIKE”

50) If you could write only angst, fluff or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

Oh man. Angst, as long as it can have a happy ending. But it just wouldn’t be the same without the smut.

#this was fun #i guess i should go back to work now #fic #fandom #ao3 #tropes #hockey rpf #writing #patrick kane #jonathan toews #sidney crosby #geno malkin #tyler seguin #probably some other people

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reyesstrand · 4 years

Note

Hi!! I’m absolutely obsessed with your writings! You are absolutely amazing. If you’re still taking prompts would love to see 11. “How could you ask me that?” and 36. “You’ve shown me what love can feel like.” Thank you so much. 💕💕

thank you so much! i’m sorry for the wait on this one but i hope you enjoy!!

feel free to send me a number from this list if you’d like. also available on ao3!

“It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve gotten you alone.”

There’s no bite to Michelle’s words as she speaks, but Carlos immediately picks up on the insinuation that she’s lying down: that Carlos is a little too caught up in the whirlwind that is TK Strand for him to make time for their weekly tradition of drinks and street tacos at their favourite place downtown. He’s missed the last three or four chances they had to hang out, due to picking up shifts or getting wrapped up in his — what, friend? boyfriend? guy-that-he’s-exclusively-seeing-but-has-no-label-for is too wordy, but it’s really the only thing that makes sense when trying to describe what he has with TK.

“Sorry,” Carlos says, because he is. Michelle’s been there for him through thick and thin ever since he was barely out of high school and he started hanging out with her as much as he hung out with Iris. But she waves him off immediately.

“No need to apologize, I know that boy of yours, you should feel no shame for getting as much time in with him as you can,” Michelle offers him a wink, but when he just sort of sighs and sinks down into his chair, she cocks her head to the side. “Is everything okay with you two?”

Carlos could offer her the same response he’s been giving his sister, who’s wanted to meet his so-called mystery guy for almost a month, now. She’d noticed his change of tone whenever he spoke about his and TK’s relationships, and Carlos had quickly chalked it up to him being tired after a long day. Which was true — but he could just sense that something was up with TK, and it wasn’t something he was ready to get into with his sister. But Michelle’s different; she might actually know if something’s up with the 126 that could be attributed to TK’s slow but steady act of pulling away from him.

“Actually, uh, he’s been kind of distant, lately,” Carlos says, trying to keep it casual, but Michelle’s eyebrows furrow almost immediately.

“For how long?” Michelle asks, bringing her beer to her lips and taking a sip.

Carlos sighs. “Two weeks. I thought maybe something was going on at work?”

Michelle presses her lips together, but the corners of her mouth still turn down in a frown as she shakes her head. “I mean, he seems normal at the station. The whole team does.”

They’re quiet for a few moments, as Michelle taps her fingers against the neck of her bottle.

“How is he being distant?” Michelle finally asks, and Carlos shrugs, squinting as he looks off into the distance, the setting sun just low enough to be in his line of vision.

“We still go on dates and stuff, but he doesn’t really talk to me like he did before. He always seems like he’s lying when I ask him if he’s okay,” Carlos shrugs, taking a breath before speaking the words out loud, finally voicing the fear that’s been brewing in his chest. “I think he might want to break up with me.”

“Are you serious?” Michelle looks at him with wide eyes, and Carlos slowly nods.

“I mean, what else could it be? We gave us a shot for real two months ago, maybe he doesn’t like how it’s turning out,” Carlos rubs at the back of his neck.

“I’ll talk to him,” Michelle says, eyes suddenly a little darker as her protective side starts coming out. Carlos quickly reaches across the table and takes her hands in his.

“God, no way, Michelle, I don’t want you to scare him off,” Carlos insists, rubbing a thumb along the inside of her wrist to calm her, a little. “I think I should just ask him tomorrow. Be straight up about everything.”

He makes the decision without really thinking it through. Maybe he’s the one that’s freaking out too much — TK could just be exhausted, or dealing with his dad’s chemo appointments on top of having a strenuous job. But he knows what his ma would say, that he probably should’ve already talked with TK about this when he first started worrying. And the way it seems to settle Michelle’s willingness to go after TK herself is also a bonus.

“How’s your mom?” he asks, to shove the focus off of his issues for a little while. And it seems to work, Michelle only giving him one last wary glance before she talks about their plan to bring Iris a care package, Carlos quietly stewing in his own mind over what to do next.

* * *

Carlos knows that work isn’t the best place to do this. But he also knows just how distracted he’s been all day just thinking about all the possibilities of what TK’s struggling with, and if he doesn’t get his emotions off his chest he’s going to crash and burn. Besides, they’ve been called to an accident at a state fair — a malfunctioning ferris wheel, that hadn’t moved for half an hour with people stuck on the ride — and once the 126 rescued the ten stranded people, they were all milling around, waiting for the all-clear, and Carlos has been watching TK just chat with Marjan for the last ten minutes and he figures this is as good a time as any.

Marjan catches his eye before TK sees him, and she says something quickly to him as TK begins to turn around. He offers Carlos a small smile as he approaches and Marjan clears her throat.

“I’m just...not going to be here right now. Nice to see you, Carlos,” Marjan says as she slips away from them, going over to where Mateo’s checking on equipment. Carlos nods at her as she leaves, and TK steps a little closer.

“How’s your night going?” TK asks, and Carlos frowns a little at the way that TK has yet to really look him in the eye.

“This is going to sound stupid,” Carlos says, instead of actually answering the other man. “But are you trying to break up with me?”

After ten seconds of silence, TK barks out a laugh. But when he takes in Carlos’ worried look and his tense jaw, his eyebrows shoot up. “Wait, you’re serious?”

“Sorry, I’m just being an idiot, I—”

“Wait, Carlos,” TK says, curling his fingers around Carlos’ wrist. “Talk to me?”

“It’s just...you’ve been distant, over the past couple of weeks. And at first I thought you were just tired, or maybe wrapped up in your head, which I totally get. But I want to be there for you no matter what, and I feel like you couldn’t wait for me to get out of your hair on our past few dates.” Carlos explains, watching as TK runs a hand down his face. “So, do you want to break up with me? I just can’t keep doing this, Ty.”

“How could you ask me that?” TK’s brought his voice down to a whisper, and Carlos shakes his head.

“I’m just wondering where we stand, Ty,” Carlos says. “I really like you, but I don’t want you to feel forced into this relationship if you—”

“I don’t,” TK quickly interjects, stepping even more into Carlos’ space. “I don't feel forced into anything. You have to believe me, okay? I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you. And it still blows my mind that I get to have you in my life. Carlos— you’ve shown me what love can feel like. After all I’ve been through and all that I’ve put you through, you’ve stood by me, and I can’t even express to you how important you are to me.”

Carlos feels warmth spread through him, but he still doesn’t get the distance. He opens his mouth to speak, but before he can, TK presses on.

“I’ve been distant because I wanted,” TK stops for a second, inhaling shakily as he glances around, his eyes illuminated under the twinkling lights of the various rides and the signs advertising games and food. He meets Carlos’ gaze again and finally continues. “I wanted to ask you to be my boyfriend. Officially. But I didn’t know how to do it because you mean so much to me and I wanted to do this right, and I’ve been kind of stressing out about making things perfect and—”

“Hey, hey, TK,” Carlos says, bringing his hands up to frame TK’s face, practically feeling the other man’s mind going thousand miles a minute. “I think boyfriend has a nice ring to it.”

TK’s mouth quirks up in a lopsided smile. “Yeah?”

Carlos hums in agreement. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry for making you worry,” TK says, “that’s the last thing I wanted to do.”

“Well, this is much better than all the other scenarios I was imagining,” Carlos jokes, but when he sees the flash of worry clouding up TK’s eyes, he presses a quick kiss to his boyfriend’s temple. “It’s okay, Ty. I swear.”

TK opens his mouth to speak, only for Judd’s voice to pipe up.

“Hey, loverboys! I won’t hesitate to use this hose on y’all,” Judd teases, as the others smirk all around them. “Come on, TK, we gotta go save some chickens from a barn fire.”

“Texas manages to surprise me every day,” TK mutters, meeting Carlos’ eyes one last time. “What are you doing later? I have to make things up to my boyfriend.”

TK waggles his eyebrows and Carlos snorts, leaning in quick to kiss him. “Come to my place when you’re done, I’m making you dinner.”

“You’re seriously the best,” TK says, as he turns to head toward the rig, where Marjan’s holding the door open for him.

“Be safe!” Carlos shouts out after him, and TK gives him one last smile and wave before he’s disappeared into the truck. As he retreats to his squad car, he shoots Michelle a quick text — things are all good, won’t need you threatening my boyfriend any time soon — before he heads off to the next call, unable to stop himself from smiling to himself over that label, one he hopes will stick for as long as humanly possible.

#tarlos #tarlos fic #911 lone star #my fic #phanfiction--addiction #one shot collection

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teacherintransition · 3 years

Text

I Didn’t Notice it …Did You Notice it?

They all said you notice it … I didn’t feel nothin’

Maybe I’m doing this wrong, but I didn’t feel the restless urge to set up my old classroom or felt like something is missing. Maybe I’m not doing this right.

About fifteen years into your career, a subtle countdown begins in the back of your mind, “I’m________ years old, how many more years would I have to work before I can retire I wonder?’ “Not that I would, but just in case… how much longer?” I’ve been assured by folks in other fields this phenomenon is not unique to educators. Everyone wants “to go the house.” In Texas, an educator goes without a lot: acceptable professional pay, affordable insurance, adequate supplies, efficient technical tools to help instruct, parental support, administrative support, adequate sized classrooms, information about the uh …background of certain students placed in your class arbitrarily. Not to paint to bleak a picture of yon career of education, there are plenty of things that come in abundance, oh yes Mr. or Madam educator your district has gotten you more than covered in various ways. The Texas teacher can count on the following in abundance: endless faculty meetings with no clear point that are held after school the time you have to take your Lil Johnny to baseball practice or soccer practice…or both; a punctual yearly increase in insurance premiums; accusations that you don’t like their Lil Johnny and that’s why Johnny has a 36 average in your class; a “what about that Mr. Teacher from your principal; the speedy return of a student to your class who had just given the class a personal expression of his mastery of four letter words….ah, if only we were studying Bukowsi; opportunities to create individualized RTI (Response to intervention plans) for each child who is not having success in YOUR classroom … these can be known to equal or exceed the time needed to plan the lessons by almost 100%; department meetings; team meetings, parent meetings all of which are held at the time designed for lesson planning and that task has doubled in time because 12 out of 100 student haven’t obtained success in your class (or any other). Yes, it’s a plethora, nay a smorgasbord of delights and some of you guys think we do it for the “time off in the summer.” Sorry, JACK …. We are having just too much fun.

What Texas does offer it’s teachers is a suitable pension that is actually better than a lot of states. I’ve been told not to expect many COLAs (cost of living adjustments), but you can expect to receive an “it’s okay “ annuity payment until you die; and , heaven forbid that you should enter the pearly gates before your spouse, your mate, your significant other will receive the said annuity payment until they too shuffle off this mortal coil. Some of you upon reading this are laughing uncontrollably, others with hand on chin are thinking, “not to bad,” while others of you recognize that you will probably be required to put in for a half day on the day they bury you. Life’s not fair comrade… no, that’s not in any of the paperwork.

As my readers well know, I jumped …made the leap as it were to retirement and I’ve been transitioning (shameless plug for title of blog) for just over a year. Things are going ok, thanks for asking. When your on the precipice about to take the leap; cliches and euphemisms are freely shared. “Every time about August you’re going to get the itch. “The itch? Poison ivy, leprosy … why? I’ll pass on that shit. They elaborate that there will be this desire to supply your room, decorate bulletin boards, arrange files, fill out lesson plans, write pithy inspiring quotes on your wall. Uh, sorry I haven’t felt it. Obviously last year made me acutely aware of the decision I made…it was just weeks after retiring. It was sad, I did feel I should be doing “something” uh, I don’t know, something “schooley.” I did then and still do miss my students terribly, but the administrative stuff? It took me about five minutes of concentrating on mind killing nature of those tasks and that was all she wrote; may I be thrown into a pool of mako sharks if I ever say, “hey, wouldn’t it be great to grade a few essays …just for fun?”

As I written in other articles, none of this looks the same for everybody…none of it feels the same; but I feel that over the past year, I’ve acclimated well to switching gears …if I may. I nap more than I used to, but isn’t that a good thing? I’ve accomplished a lot, traveled to see my kids several times over the past year, we even managed to fly to Arizona for a week and had a great time. As we approached zero week in August I had none of the instinctive rumblings one expects a teacher of thirty years to experience. You see, for an educator… the month of June lasts forever; July feels like going to bed after a great Saturday night (you know that in thirty hours it will be the start of the work week.) August feels like 8:30 pm on Sunday night…every day until you report to campus. Many is the time I’d scream in my mind, “FOR THE LOVE OF GOD AND ALL THAT IS HOLY …CAN WE JUST PLEASE QUIT WAITING AND START NOW ….PLEASE!” Not, a fun place to be I assure you.

But this year, in all honesty, I lost track of the time of month it was several times. High school football snuck up on me and I only got hold of that because my son is a coach. I felt no unease that I need to be putting up bulletin boards, no lingering around the classroom supply section of any store. My days were almost free of thirty years of being Pavlov’s dog. There are deep intrinsic things that are missed terribly: conversing with my students, seeing a kid overcome an obstacle with your help, the feeling of value knowing you are needed… now that’s the good stuff…that’s why you became a teacher… not bureaucratic b*******. The only thing I kept aware of the time of year it was , when we approached hurricane season. That I attribute to my most instinctual circadian rhythm (please refer to my three part series on circadian rhythm..it was a real page turner.) Even as I write this, Tropical storm Nicholas is churning up the gulf and I can see the sky and breeze changing. This you get used to living along the Gulf coast… which begs the question, “hey teacher in Transition… would you rather ride out a hurricane or fill out lesson plans for a month?” Only real teachers know the answer.

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