#so I've taken WAY too much time to set the record straight

[mayfieldss]

A night out - Jason Todd

Warnings: protective Jason, mentions of underage drinking/alcohol consumption, language, unwanted attention (some guys can't take a hint), lowkey make-out sesh.

Summary: You and Jason had kept your relationship private for some time, but when a strangers flirting goes a little too far, Jason sets the record straight.

You and Jason weren't exactly hiding your relationship. You didn't care if anyone found out, but you kept to yourselves for the thrill of it, rather than out of necessity. Certain people knew, like Kory, who seemed to see through the two of you like glass, and Dick who had figured it out after Jason spent a little too much time staring at you in awe. But the others were kept in the dark, partly because there was fun in sneaking around, as well as the fact Jason claimed he loved having you all to himself.

It was enjoyable to catch Jason's gaze across a room and wonder what he was thinking about. And Jason derived his joy from things like texting you whilst around the others, little messages of "You look so hot right now." and your personal favourite "Your lips on mine in ten minutes, yes, or no?" He also loved little things, like his hand on your thigh under the table whilst Rachel and Gar were deep in conversation, or the way you would hold his hand in yours whenever you wanted.

Right now, you were standing in Jason's room, staring at yourself in the mirror, as you pulled at the edges of your clothes. It had been Jason's idea for you, him, Rachel, and Gar to crash a party that was happening a couple of blocks away. He claimed that the lot of you never got to do anything normal and that this was a great opportunity to do so. He was right of course. It was almost impossible to act like a regular human being when living in a place like Titans tower, but the concept of trying to be normal was so much more stressful than you ever thought it would be.

"You look fucking amazing, babe. Stop stressing." You feel Jason's arms snake around your body as he comes to stand behind you, the reflection of both of you together in the mirror relieving some of your stress.

"Are you sure it's not too much? I mean, I've never really been to a party before. I don't know what I'm doing." Your frown returns and you watch Jason lower his head to kiss the top of your shoulder.

"You. look. great." He presses a kiss to your skin between each word before pulling you away from the mirror. "Now, come on. We're gonna be late."

He's walking you toward the door when you stop him, tugging on his arm "You look great too you know."

He smiles, a wide and mischievous grin as he pulls you in for one last kiss, "Thank you, I already knew that, but thank you." His words make you laugh before you're shoving him away with a playful hand. You open the door to his room and step out into the hall, just in time to avoid an awkward encounter with Rachel and Gar as they come to find you both.

"You guys ready to go?" the green-haired boy speaks, a smile on his lips. He's excited, but you can't say the same, stomach bubbling with nerves. Jason can tell. You know he can, by the way he places a hand on your shoulder as he replies. "We gotta get a move on, at this rate, we'll get there when the parties fucking over."

You watch as Rachel sends a raised eyebrow your way, most likely due to the placement of Jason's hand, and the gentle squeezes he gives your shoulder every few seconds. You ignore it, trying to mask the smile that threatens to spill at the thrill of Jason's movements. They're always casual enough that they won't draw too much attention, but filled with a certain affection that creates something of mild speculation with the others.

You move down the hall soon after, quietly making your way past the rooms of the others in the tower before you're in the elevator and outside in minutes. The party is in an apartment two blocks away, and with every step taken in its direction, anxiety rips at your insides like a fed-up circus lion. In that moment, you forget the thrill of hiding your relationship with Jason and fall back by his side, whilst Rachel and Gar are arguing playfully, to take his hand.

"You good?" Jason leans over to whisper the question in your ear, squeezing your hand in the process.

You shake your head, staring straight ahead, as you mutter a response. "I want to throw up."

Jason removes his hand from yours, opting to place it on the small of your back as he leans down to whisper once more. "If this is about your outfit, I'm telling you, babe, the color scheme isn't too much, you look amazing."

"It's not that," you spare a glance at him, catching a hint of concern in his eyes. "This whole thing is just stressful, you know?"

As soon as you say it Jason feels guilty because in truth, he's not nervous at all. But clearly, you're carrying enough fear for both of you.

"Don't think about it too much. It's just you and me in a room full of people who aren't nearly as cool as we are."

That makes you smile, and Jason is glad for the change in your expression before you make your way back to Rachel. Jason's hand leaves you as you do so and he watches as you talk with her. He does so for a while and then, so he doesn't seem as smitten as he is, Jason steps up beside Gar, striking up a conversation with the boy until you make it to the door of your destination.

You climbed many a flight of stairs to get here, the apartment on an irregularly high level, in a complex with a broken elevator. Music pumps from behind the door, and with one last look at you, Jason turns the doorknob and steps inside. He's swallowed by the crowd and you almost lose him once you find yourself amongst all the people, but soon a hand grabs yours and you don't have to see who it is know that it's Jason.

"This is great, isn't it?" He's taken it upon himself to put an arm around you, so as to not lose you among the party-goers.

"It's loud." You shout back, his laugh vibrating through you as a response.

-

You lost Gar and Rachel within the first twenty minutes. They vanished into the sea of people, and even with their unnaturally coloured hair, they were still so hard to see.

"How can we lose a guy like Gar? His hair is bright green for fucks sake." You stand on the tips of your toes as you say it, looking around as best you can. Jason doesn't seem to care, grabbing you by the waist now that you're alone. He spins you around to face him, and the smile he wears looks good on him, though everything looks good on him.

"Like I said, it's you and me in a room full of people that can never be as cool as we are. Not that bad right?" He's so close to you, so you can hear him over the music and chatter, and also just because he wants to be. He loves the smile on your lips as you look up at him, your arms around his neck, and the hidden confidence behind your eyes that he's dying to dig out.

"It's still a little intimidating, but I trust you." The way you say it makes sparks burst through Jason's chest. You trust him. You might be the only person that does. His thumb brushes over your cheek and only then do you realize one of his hands has moved up to cup your face.

"D'you want a drink?" He shifts his gaze to look for the kitchen, but when he turns back to you, you're shaking your head. "No, I'm good."

"Okay, cool." On the way here, Jason thought he would be drinking tonight, but now he doesn't think he wants that anymore. He'd rather be with you in the moment, soaking this all in, and getting drunk on the feeling of being with you in a public setting rather than on an unknown beverage.

"You can have one if you want, I don't mind." Your voice is so gentle and sincere, and Jason loves how nice it sounds against his ears.

"If you're sober, I'm sober, babe." He smiles once more, but something seems off, and you shake your head. "You don't have to be sober just because I am, you know. If you want to drink, go for it."

Jason just shakes his head, brushing his forehead against yours. "I don't want a drink, I just want you." It's a sweet sentence, and you're surprised by it, especially in the way it makes you blush.

"How long have you been waiting to use that line?" you ask, but Jason shuts you up with a kiss, short and sweet.

"I came up with it on the spot, I swear."

To that, you laugh, "It was a good line."

You watch as Jason raises an eyebrow, smirking wide as his hands come down to squeeze your hips. "You really think it was good?" He asks, and the question is so genuine that your heart melts a little at hearing it.

"Yes, Jason, it was good."

"How good?" He's back to his flirty self in seconds, the speed of the change giving you whiplash. You're smiling so wide now that your cheeks hurt, and you rest your forehead against Jason's collarbone to hide the strong blush you know is forming on your cheeks. Jason hugs you close, shifting from foot to foot as he sways offbeat to the music. "D'you wanna dance?"

"I don't think this is the kind of music you're supposed to dance to."

Your forehead, still pressed to Jason's chest, shifts up and down as he shrugs. "We could try."

It's not something you expect considering Jason isn't much of a dancer. When you ask him to dance with you, most of the time he only does so to make you happy, and he doesn't really dance. He just twirls you around once or twice, standing in the middle of the room as you move around him.

"You really want to dance, don't you?" You look up at him as you say it, trying to conceal a smile.

"Fuck, please don't make me regret asking." He's stopped swaying now, pulling back just enough that he can admire you. He's nervous now.

"We'll dance when the next song comes on."

Jason shakes his head, "By then I won't want to do it anymore, we gotta dance now before I change my mind." He's dead serious, shocking himself with the words. Jason hasn't felt this good in a while, and he wants to savor the moment while it lasts because he's not sure how long he'll have it.

"Jason, this song has no beat at all."

He swings your arms back over his shoulders as you speak, cocking his head to the side in a devilish manner. "Don't tell me you're turning down a challenge." He's pushing through his nerves as he begins swaying again, moving you with him. You're right, the music has no specific pattern, and it is more a mix of strange noises than an actual song, but he tries anyway. Jason focuses on your smile, and then the way that you laugh as he makes an attempt at twirling you around. And he feels so happy.

When the song changes, he stops moving. "Right, dancing privileges have been revoked, you never saw a thing." You laugh at that too, and Jason soaks up the sound like a sponge, wanting to keep it all for himself.

"Your secret's safe with me," the words are gentle and sweet, and if you weren't so close to him, he doubts he would have heard. But he does, he hears you just fine. "though I can't promise I won't write about it in my diary."

Jason raises an eyebrow, "You have a diary? Can I read it?"

"If I did have a diary there is no way you would be allowed to read it."

"Why?" Jason brings a hand up to your face again, tucking your hair back behind your ear as he does. "You've written about me in your hypothetical diary, haven't you?"

You screw up your nose at him and he continues, finding it impossible not to tease you. "Dear diary, Jason looked so good today. He smiled at me, I think I'm in love with him." As he says it, he sees that same fleck of confidence flickering behind your eyes. When you open your mouth to speak, excitement courses through him like he's just been plugged into some intense power source with no limits.

"There may or may not be a few pages like that in the hypothetical diary." And just like that, in one sentence you've spoken, Jason is falling so heavily that he leaves his stomach, and heart behind in your hands.

"You told your diary you love me, huh?" he tries to hide his need for the answer through flirtation, pulling you just that little bit closer. You're focusing more on his nose than his eyes now as if you're not yet ready to battle his gaze.

"Will you promise to love me back if I say that I did?" it's a genuine question and Jason is trying his best to hold back a grin.

"Definitely."

So far, he's kept himself composed (on the outside at least), but internally, Jason wants to implode. The thought of you holding so much affection for him that you could actually love him is beyond Jason's comprehension. He wants to hold on to the feeling he has now, all the feelings you're giving him, and never let them go. He never wants to let you go either. So, he drops his cool guy persona. Jason lets himself look at you with utter adoration that is impossible to mask, and he knows you can see it written all over his face, but he doesn't care. He's so used to hiding his feelings but doesn't want to hide this.

"You're being serious? You think you love me?"

There's a silence between you, and it seems to stretch on forever, a heavy contrast to the pounding in his ears, his heartbeat crying out for an answer so loud that he thinks that the whole room can hear it.

"I don't think I love you, Jason Todd, I know I do, but don't make me regret it."

A wave of reassurance washes over him at the response, and he knows it's the truth in the way you act. It's as if you're afraid he won't feel the same and Jason curses himself for never being good with honest words. But he's happy and he's relieved, and this is the best day of his life, he thinks.

"I fucking love you." the words are quiet because Jason finds them hard to say. Not because they aren't true, but because he doesn't think he's ever said those words to someone before and meant it. But he's at ease when he watches your lips upturn, the softest smile gracing your features. Jason presses a kiss to your forehead, before moving to twirl you around once more. Somehow in the process, your eye catches a clock across the room. "Shit, Jason we need to get back." You scramble around to face him, looking over his shoulder for something, though Jason doesn't know what it is.

"Hey, calm down, it's not that late."

You turn back to him, panic in your eyes, "Jason, look." You point toward the clock and Jason lets out a breath. "It could be wrong, clocks are set wrong all the time."

He feels you shift, watching as you pull your phone from your pocket and stare at the screen for a solid few seconds. Jason moves by your side so he can see the time, and exhales harshly. "Well, shit."

"We have a training session with Dick in like, four hours." You sound panicked and Jason winces at the thought of fighting the man on little sleep. "By the time we find Gar and Rachel and get back—"

"Stop," Jason cuts you off. He's not too bothered about a lack of rest. He hardly gets any anyway. He'll just take a nap later in the day if he needs it. He's done it before, and so have you, so Jason can't quite understand why you're so freaked out. "It's not that bad, if we go now, we can find them." There's a pause, and when you say nothing, Jason frowns.

"Hey, breathe." He grasps your shoulders gently, trying to snap you out of whatever the hell is happening. "We're not kids, we won't be grounded. We're fine." Jason's not so sure about the grounding part, even though you aren't children, he wouldn't put it past Dick not to try and keep the lot of you inside. He pulls you against his chest, squeezing you in a tight hug. "How ‘bout you go get some water or something? I'll find them and meet you in the kitchen."

It's sweet of him to say, Jason Todd, a boy with such a rough exterior being so gentle with you, and you nod. he does the same and you split up, you on the move for something to stop the tightness in your throat, and Jason off to find Rachel and Gar.

When you make it to the kitchen you grab the first thing you can find, which is an empty red solo cup sitting on the counter. It took you a little longer than you would have liked to find the kitchen, and when you get there your panic has only escalated. You fill the cup with water from the tap and gulp it down like it's the last thing that will ever pass through your lips. In an instant you feel somewhat better, filling the cup up again as you wait for Jason and the rest of your companions.

It doesn't take long for someone to approach you, though it's not the boy you want it to be. He's followed by a friend, and you back yourself up into the kitchen counter, hoping they'll pass by you if given the space to do so. They don't.

"I haven't seen you around before." The line is cheesy, and it's even worse that this guy thinks it could ever work on you.

"I have a boyfriend." You say quickly, hoping that might deter their interest. The two men look between themselves, a laugh escaping the first guy.

"So?"

"So," You drag out the word, "I'm not interested in whatever it is you're implying." You stare into your cup, watching the clear liquid swirl around. You're not worried, Jason, Rachel, and Gar should be with you soon.

One of them steps forward, the guy with the cheesy pickup lines extending a hand. "I'm Danny, what's your name?" Okay, maybe you are a little worried.

"Not interested." You make a move to leave, even though you're supposed to wait for Jason to find you. It will take longer to get back to the tower if you lose each other, but you're willing to take that risk if you can escape this situation. The problem now lies in how you'll escape the kitchen. The two men have shifted now, to block the exit like jocks in some cliché teen movie.

"Move." You're surprised at how strong your voice sounds, and you look them in the eye for the first since they showed up. You don't feel anywhere near as confident as you're pretending to be.

"Just tell us your name." It sounds ten times more threatening when you're looking at the guys, and there's a part of you that wishes you'd never looked up. You hold composure, however, drinking the rest of the water in your cup before crushing it on the counter.

"Like I said, I have a boyfriend. Now get out of my way."

When they don't move you take the risk of shoving past them, the action taking them by surprise enough for you to slip through the gap created between their two bodies. On the other side of them, relief wraps around your bones, as you see Jason in front of you, Gar and Rachel waiting by the doorframe of the kitchen. You take the few steps you need to be by his side, and once you're there you feel the familiar warmth of Jason's hand on your back.

"Hey," Jason offers his attention to the guys in front of him "I don't think we've met." He pulls you closer to his side as he speaks, and you look up to catch a glimpse of the anger in his eyes. It's not masked under anything except for a pissed-off smile.

"Who are you?" There's confusion written all over the faces of the boys as they await a response, and Jason doesn't bother with the dramatics anymore, getting to the point.

"I'm the boyfriend." He lets that sink in, and when the guys don't say a thing, he continues. "You know, the one she told you she had right before whatever the fuck this is" He waves a hand at the guys, and they don't seem pleased by it. But he doesn't flinch under their gaze. His is much more intimidating, and he knows it. Jason turns his head to look at you "I wanna punch them."

You could see this coming from a mile away, and you place a hand on his arm, though you don't know what that will do. "Don't punch them."

Jason grunts and you can tell he's fuming, though none of his anger is directed at you. "I'm gonna punch him." Jason nods toward the one closest to you and your eyes widen.

"Alright, the party's over." You grab Jason's hand, sparing a glance at Gar and Rachel that says, "A little help over here would be nice."

In seconds they are with you, Gar taking Jason's shoulders in his hands, trying to pull him out of the kitchen. For a moment you think you're gonna make it out without violence ensuing, but the two guys who dared to bother you before, make the mistake of laughing. Jason swings, and the sound of his fist hitting the first guy straight in the mouth makes a loud smack. The guy stumbles back, and whilst his friend is busy helping him up, you, Gar, and Rachel manage to pull Jason from the room, and out of the apartment.

The first words spoken once you're out of the party setting, come from Gar. "You guys are dating?"

"Yes, Garfield." The words sound like a hiss from Jason's mouth before he turns back toward the door. "I'm going back in there."

"No, no you are not." you pull Jason down the hall away from the door, hoping he doesn't make a break for it so he can continue the fight. "I told you not to punch him, why did you punch him?" You're scolding him and Jason meets your eyes, running a hand through his hair as he tries to calm himself down.

"He just had such a punchable face, you know? It was just made to be punched." He balls his hands into fists, before flexing his fingers out again as if remembering the feeling of hitting the guy square in the mouth. "Plus, those guys were being fucking assholes."

He frowns and you watch as concern takes over his features. "You okay?" Jason's mind is racing as he says it, and his urge to go back in there and finish the fight returns as he pictures the guys from the kitchen harassing you.

"I'm fine, Jason."

"Are you sure? It seemed pretty intense in there." It's Rachel who speaks, and as much as you love her, you hate the way her words spark Jason's anger once more. This time though, he looks to you for permission.

"Just give me ten minutes in there, I'll talk to them."

"And I assume you'll be talking with your fists?" You raise a brow, almost laughing at the concept of Jason talking something out in a civilized manner. He just shrugs, a smug smile on his lips.

"Only if a visual demonstration is required."

You swat him on the shoulder taking his hand and making your way to the staircase. "Come on, we’ve got to get back."

Jason sighs, following you with Rachel and Gar close behind. Soon, you're all jogging down the street in the direction of Titans tower, the four of you yawning and stumbling as you do so. Jason looks over at you as you race after Rachel, and he knows it's cliché, but he wonders how he got so lucky with you. You meet his eyes once, hot breath creating little puffs of steam in the cold night air. He moves up beside you, still running

"What would you do if I kissed you right now?" He pants as he says it because no matter what the movies portray, it is hard to talk and run.

"I'd kiss you back, of course." You shift your eyes between him and the ground in front of you, making sure you don't trip whilst distracted by Jason's words.

Jason lets out a heavy breath, "Awesome."

He stops running, catching your hand before you can get too far and pulling you back to him. You stumble as he does so, your sudden change in pace making you lose your footing. But Jason is there to grab you, and you conveniently fall right into his arms.

"Hey." You're breathless, and Jason gives you a second or two to pull air into your lungs before he's kissing you for what seems to be the hundredth time that night, but it never gets old. Jason doesn't think he could ever tire of your lips on his, and he thinks his dying wish if he got one, would be to touch you one last time. But he's not dying yet, so he's taking his time, one hand moving from your arm to the side of your face. You lean into him, and he soaks up the moment, knowing that at some point he'll have to pull away, but just not right now.

-

GENERAL TAGLIST: @heliads @candywh0r3 @caplanreads @s00buwu @like-gabriel-and-castiel

DC TITANS TAGLIST;

JASON TODD TAGLIST;

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[mythserene]

DRUGS COST MONEY (MARK LEWISOHN, DRUG BUDDY)

I'm late, but I'm here, and this is something I've thought about since I read Tune In the first time.

First of all, Lewisohn's definition and description of what Preludin was is wildly underplayed and misleading, so I have to just get out a few quick Preludin facts. They're helpful.

Lewisohn:

Preludin was an appetite suppressant, an anorectic drug introduced into West German society in 1954, when commercial pressures were making women become more image-conscious. Users maintained an appetite but quickly felt full when eating, and the reduced intake brought about weight loss. Preludin’s primary ingredient, phenmetrazine, was not an amphetamine but an upper, giving the user a euphoric buzz. It was soon sold internationally and used recreationally, and though available in Germany only with a doctor’s prescription...

- “Tune In” - Chapter 19; Piedels on Prellies

(Oh, those women and their obsession with weight.)

I know Lewisohn's not a chemist and I don't expect him to have done extensive study before writing “not an amphetamine but an upper”—which, first of all is just a weird, grade school sounding statement about any stimulant in general that no scientist would ever say or write—but also he makes it sound like it's a fizzy little pill that gives you the sillies.

But definitely not an amphetamine or anything bad like that.

Look, even Wikipedia says right at the top, “[i]ts structure incorporates the backbone of amphetamine,” and although I didn't spend more than a few seconds there, I saw it because it came up first in the search like Wikipedia always does. Just saying it's basically impossible to miss.

And whether he was trying to hide the ball or not, since he wrote so much about them I am going to quickly set the "not amphetamine" record straight before I go on.

“Methamphetamine hydrochloride (Desoxyn) and phenmetrazine hydrochloride (Preludin) are two variants of the amphetamine structure.”

- “Amphetamine Abuse”, Sidney Cohen, MD, JAMA

“The experience in Sweden seems to indicate that phenmetrazine (e.g. Preludin) has the highest potency, and the greatest risk of psycho-toxic, acute and chronic effects (Rylander 1966). Amphetamines and methylphenidate seem to show less dependence-producing and psycho-toxic effects than phenmetrazine.”

- (United Nations Bulletin; Vol XX, No. 2)

Basically, Preludin was synthesized by taking an amphetamine skeleton and boosting tf out of it by adding a very common sort of chemical scaffolding to it called a morpholine ring, allowing them to tweak it by sticking on a nitrogen group. But morpholine rings by themselves also increase potency and usually bioavailability.

So in the narrowest technical sense, Phenmetrazine (Preludin) is classified as a morpholine instead of an amphetamine, but in every way it is an amphetamine on speed. (And every description of it anywhere says so right up front.) It was Amphetamine Plus. The little added synthetic kicker the pharmaceutical company figured out how to attach to the amphetamine made it stronger—gave it the Preludin "kick"—made the high feel better in general (according to all this crap I spent way too much time reading) and also made it way more addictive. It increased dopamine and norepinephrine reuptake, and the compound itself displayed “some entactogen properties more similar to MDMA." It made Preludin far more psychoactive than straight amphetamines. Made smells stronger, sensations more intense, and made you horny and "increased performance." It was taken off the market in 1980 because it was so hyper-addictive and the “psycho-toxicity” was so extreme. People reported doing things they barely remembered, including to a kind of freakish degree, like a lot of users committing crimes for the very first time in their lives. And so the company tried to replace it with a similar drug called Prelu-2, which is apparently still available but also almost never prescribed because even that was excessively addictive compared to non-boosted amphetamines.

And also, it made you feel body odors?

"...perfumes and flowers get a stronger smell, and body odours are felt more strongly than under normal conditions."

- (United Nations Bulletin; Vol XX, No. 2)

What are normal conditions? Maybe my normal conditions are different from everyone else's because I don't normally feel body odors?? But tbh I would literally try this drug just to see if I could.

Okay.

So... John was feeling some serious body odors because my man took a lot of them. Usually with lots of booze.

And apparently they made him more awesome.

George spoke graphically of how they would be “frothing at the mouth … we used to be up there foaming, stomping away.” John, as always, dived straight in, wholeheartedly grabbing another new experience with an open mouth and no thought of tomorrow. The Beatles called them “pep pills”—the commonly used British term of the period—and also “Prellies.”

...Two pills a night were more than enough for most but John frequently took four or five, and in conjunction with hour after hour of booze he became wired, a high-speed gabbling blur of talent, torment and hilarity.

- “Tune In” - Chapter 19; Piedels on Prellies

Yeah, he sounds like a blast. Good thing you got a quote there, my guy. I'm sure the first description that would’ve come to his roommates’ minds would be “hilarity.” Or second, after “hero.” (Sorry, I don't want to be hard on John. I have a lot of bandwidth and patience for drug indulgences, especially in a situation like this, but Lewisohn is unbelievable.)

Ruth Lallemannd, a St. Pauli barmaid who knew the Beatles from 1960, recalls an occasion when “They crushed ten Prellies to powder, put them in a bottle of Cola and shared it between them. They were always wound up.”

Drugs cost money

Amazingly enough though, these prescription-only pills didn't just magically get from people with nice doctors to John’s hands. Someone sold them to someone else and they ended up with “the toilet lady,” Tante Rosa, who sold them.

They looked like little white sweets … but these were no mint drops.

- Chapter 19

So cute!

Preludin small-print advised against its being taken less than six hours before bedtime, in case of sleep disorders.

- Chapter 19

So if Lewisohn is reading the small print of a drug that was discontinued 44 years ago he did not miss the Wikipedia page and must know that “not an amphetamine but an upper” is wildly misleading. Technically true in the chemical classification sense, but not in the medical or pharmacological sense. And true in the same way that “fentanyl isn't morphine” is true.

But that's not my point.

My point is that these “little white sweets” were strong, had wild “psycho-toxic” effects, John took a lot of them, and they weren't free.

Because drugs cost money.

Paul slept fine on just the one pill, John and George didn’t. George would recall “lying in bed, sweating from Preludin, thinking, ‘Why aren’t I sleeping?’ ” John simply took more: “You could work almost endlessly until the pill wore off, then you’d have to have another … You’d have two hours’ sleep and wake up to take a pill and get on stage, and it would go on and on and on. When you didn’t even get a day off you’d begin to go out of your mind with tiredness.”

Or, put another way, John was “a high-speed gabbling blur of talent, torment and hilarity.” And Paul did uncool stuff like sleeping.

Also, what in the...

Tony, George, Paul, John and Pete, along with Rosi and perhaps some stray females, would stagger wearily and noisily up three long flights of wooden stairs...

“Stray females”??? Is he talking about cats? Don't call human beings “strays,” you self-important oddity.

THE GROWNUP

John was never much into paying for stuff. Like rent, for instance. But that's what friends are for.

John was blessed with a particular talent for frittering away his funds (the council grant designed to provide his working materials) and was rarely in a position to pay [rent]. As Rod remembers, “During the week I’d go and have a pint with him and he’d always have money for a beer, but when it came to the day to pay the rent he was always hard up. ‘Could I owe it to you?’ ‘Would you like this jacket?’ One time he paid me with a Mounties-type Canadian jacket he’d probably nicked from someone else.”

- “Tune In” - Chapter 13; “Hi-Yo, Hi-Yo, Silver–Away!”

He paid rent with a jacket? Landlords take those?

I'm not gonna lie, the only real issue I've ever had with Paul—the things I have the most confusion and hesitancy about—are when he seems inexplicably cheap. Like paying the Wings band so little for so long. There's only a few cases that come to mind, but they're my weak point with him.

Still, having done my share of experimenting—as well as dating a guy who became a high-functioning addict before becoming a non-functioning addict before becoming an ex who died of an overdose—I know very well how it feels to see money flow through your hands like water and into someone else's bloodstream. And what happens then is you either both starve or you are the only one eating. In the end, someone has to have money to live, and the more drugs my ex took the more I was forced into being a walking, talking, pissed off safety net.

Stu supposedly got in a fight with Paul because Stu owed Paul money. (Although that doesn't explain attacking Paul out of nowhere on stage half as well as a three-days-awake-Prellie-binge psycho-toxicity does.)

It does, however, mean that at least one guy in the band who was taking Preludin was running out of money between paychecks.

And there's no way that if Stu was running out of funds that John wasn't too. And faster. And according to Lewisohn, George was eating a lot of Preludin, too. Because he was also cool.

That leaves Paul.

John was notoriously bad with money even when he had a lot, and when everyone is living and working together it's almost impossible to be the only guy eating or the only guy smoking. But at the same time if you know you can't do anything to stop your friends from going hard and never thinking at all, it tends to make you more careful. Because you're all you've got and all they've got. You didn't ask for the job, but you drew the short straw. So you hide some cigarettes and share too many, and get increasingly sick of it and resentful, but there's no good answer.

John heaped a ton of spice into the mix by suddenly moving back into Mendips. He’s unlikely to have told Mimi of the Gambier Terrace eviction, but Rod Murray knew little of this hasty departure: John left most of his possessions in the flat and several weeks’ rent unpaid—to the tune of about £15. He just scarpered.

- “Tune In” - Chapter 15; Drive and Bash

“Spice.” Dude really said “spice.” That John, so spicy. And fwiw, that's £300 today.

Maybe John had another jacket to pitch in.

Paul says he's more cautious by nature and I'm sure that's true, but also you know they all relied on him because they knew he wouldn't be as stupid as they were. Who knows what he would've done—whether he would have lived a more libertine life in Hamburg—if he'd felt like that was an option and he didn't have to be the grownup. Who knows what he would have done if anyone else gave a shit whether they ate or smoked.

I'll end by repeating the freakishly weird way Lewisohn told a John psycho-toxicity story that the AKOM ladies pointed out in Ep 8: No Greater Buddy, since it's almost impossible not to talk about John and Prellies without it.

“PAUL AND GEORGE’S HERO-WORSHIP STAYED FULLY INTACT”

George was second only to John in the swallowing of Prellies and knew better than most the sum effect of taking too many for too long, how the combination of pills plus booze plus several sleepless days caused hallucinations and extreme conduct. He’d describe one occasion when he, Paul and Pete were lying in their bunk beds, trying to sleep, only for John to barge into the room in a wild state. “One night John came in and some chick was in bed with Paul and he cut all her clothes up with a pair of scissors, and was stabbing the wardrobe. Everybody was lying in bed thinking, ‘Oh fuck, I hope he doesn’t kill me.’ [He was] a frothing mad person—he knew how to have ‘fun.’ ”

Handling John was something his friends were well used to doing. If he didn’t murder them in their beds there was no greater buddy. They might fear for their lives but they loved him still. No way would they walk out and join another group. John was just John, and Paul and George’s hero-worship stayed fully intact.

- “Tune in” - Chapter 28; You Better Move On

Mark Lewisohn knows nothing about drugs or drug culture. Which is fine. Good. Great, even. But the thing is, it doesn't stop him from knowing everything about it. He has confidently and emphatically stated that John and Yoko weren't doing heroin in the daytime during the Get Back sessions. He even claims that they weren't on heroin during the Two Junkies interview. Even repeating this paraphrase makes me feel ridiculous, but he says that was a hangover from the night before, and that they were too lucid to be high. Which, first of all, is not how heroin fucking works. They were blasted. The aftereffects would be them being antsy and jumpy, not going in extra-slow motion and puking. Blows my mind, the hubris this guy has. To confidently state something he unquestionably pulled out of his ass without even a moment's hesitation. Not only is that not how heroin works, but it is the drug that people wake up to do. Not wake up and do. Wake up to do.

And you can tell from the way he talks about John on Prellies—“a high-speed gabbling blur of talent, torment and hilarity”—that he has never experienced anyone who's been up a few days. And I still have a more daring nature than most of my friends, and am in no way shocked by the drug use. Me and my friends in Houston used to take Fastin and go midnight bowling every Saturday. The memories are good and I regret nothing. But the naive way Lewisohn romanticizes John and low key mocks Paul—as if Lewisohn was the ultimate drug buddy and Paul a total prude—is so weird. It's freakishly, embarrassingly, weird. Like he wants to be the cool guy. Like he thinks he can be the cool guy, and is being the cool guy, but to me it's painfully embarrassing and nothing else makes him look more desperate and delusional.

#beatles #akom #lewisohn #tune in #fine tuning #the beatles #john lennon #paul mccartney #historiography #Prellies #Hamburg #preludin #george harrison #Mark Lewisohn #drugs #drugs cost money #Spotify

[monotonous-minutia]

I request a detailed tier list of all the Hoffmann productions you've ever seen 🥺

okay BUCKLE UP

from Best to Worst my absolutely objective ranking of all 48 productions of this opera I've seen. and I am only just now realizing what an insane number of productions I have seen of this opera.

the best

#1. 2009/2015 Metropolitan Opera production (designed & directed by Bartlet Sher my beloved) Hands-down the best. Great vibe, great atmosphere, great casts in both productions, great amounts of gay, and costumes/sets that evoke such a fantastical feel it's like we've actually fallen into some kind of creepy fantasy from ETA Hoffmann's universe! A must see for anyone who loves this opera and a great first production.

#2. 1995 La Scala. The cast is to die for, the costumes and pleasingly straightforward, the sets go smoothly from wacky to eerie at the appropriate times. But most importantly it contains hands-down the absolutely bonkers fantastic amazing GAYEST Hoffmann/Nicklausse team EVER--Neil Shicoff and Susanne Menzter. I lost my fucking mind the first time I watched this one and continue to do so every time I rewatch.

 #3. Munich 2013. Fun and wacky all over with a great cast and excellent amounts of gay. Delightful all the way. Diana Damrau positively slays as the ladies. Rest of the cast is excellent too, no complaints.

#4. Brussels 1985. Surprisingly gay for being so old. A lovely production overall and, as far as I know, the first recorded production of this opera containing the Violin Aria (so possibly the first recorded Oeser edit?) which makes it extra special.

#5. Orange 2000. Two words: Angelika Kirchschlager (okay, four words: The Hair). Production's a bit odd and it is the cursed short edit but it is quite gay and, well, Angelika Kirchschlager. Outdoor stage lends a great atmosphere to the creepy parts. Natalie Dessay reigns supreme as Olympia again.

#6. Hamburg 2021. Very fun (though fairly, and somewhat distractingly, odd at times) production with another to-die-for cast. Very gay. Brower and Bernheim quickly made it to my top 10 (possibly top 5) Hoffmann/Nicklausse pairs. Olga Peretyatko gives fantastic, wonderfully multi-faceted portrayals of all the ladies and Luca Pisaroni is iconic as the villains.

#7. Paris 2002. Not as much a fan of the production, but it makes my top 10 simply because we get Shicoff and Mentzer in these roles again, and you simply cannot beat them. you just can't.

#8. 1970 German film. The costumes and sets for this are very detailed and evocative of the story and the special effects are amazing. There’s a decent amount of added dialogue, especially at the end with the Muse’s speech, so a few story-related liberties taken, though some of them draw from the original play which is interesting. All-around good cast with another dynamic Hoffmann/Nicklausse duo (the way Hoffmann runs offstage calling Nicklausse’s name over and over at the end of the Giulietta act…oh. my. god.)

#9 Zurich 2021. A bit too dark lighting-wise at times (could give Vienna a run for its money) but another fun and eccentric production. No big names but a good cast overall and another wonderfully gay lead pair but the ending has MUCH to be desired. They straight-ified it. Makes no sense. (does not compel me.)

#10. Royal Opera House 1981/2016. A classic. Very gay despite being the abbreviated version. Luscious sets and costumes. Some unfortunate casting in the tenor role but beyond that quite good, and my first production so it’s got a special place in my heart.

the good stuff

#11. Metropolitan Opera 1988. Featuring Adorable Baby Shicoff in yet another delightfully gay performance with an extra sassy (and impeccably dressed) Nicklausse. Olympia’s phenomenal. Some odd bits but a mostly great cast and fun staging make up for it.

#12. Barcelona 2013. Phenomenal cast somewhat dampened by a strange production—does a good job emphasizing the darker parts of the opera, which is a relatively rare (so interesting) take, but a few directorial choices don’t vibe with me at all. Quite gay though and great acting/singing overall.

#13. Vienna 2000. Unfortunately this exists as a highlights-only reel with absolutely terrible image/sound quality but we get Shicoff yet again paired with an equally adorable Kirchschlager in one of the gayest performances on the planet (making their 2005 performance all the more bizarre, but more on that later).

#14. Toronto City Opera 2019. Hoffmann and Nicklausse are such a dynamic duo in this one in the most adorable way. It’s abbreviated even by Choudens standards which is obnoxious but it’s such a cute and fun production it still makes my top 20.

#15. Paris 2016. Same production as the 2002 one so that in and of itself is not my cup of tea but we get a good cast which carries it pretty well.

#16. Las Palmas (?date?) This one is about as close to full-on Oeser as anyone’s tried (except maybe the Genève 2008 one) so it’s remarkable for that. The production is equal parts campy and cool and the cast overall is very good, especially the villains and especially Dapertutto. Chemistry between Hoffmann and the ladies is pretty great. Decently gay. I need Nicklausse’s Act 1 costume immediately.

#17. Macerata 2005. A low-key production with an even mixture of fun and strange. Nicklausse is adorable and off-the-charts gay. Relatively unremarkable besides that.

#18. Orlando 2015. Why, oh why do we not have a full recording of this production?? It currently exists only as a youtube playlist with videos of some of the most important parts and it just looks SO GOOD it makes my top 20 without even having seen the entire thing.

#19. Regina Opera (NYC) 2011. Straightforward and fun and lots of ingenuity for a tiny space. Olympia and Antonia are particularly good. Hoffmann winds up in Nicklausse’s lap at the end. Nuff said.

#20. St. Petersburg (Florida) 2017. Another highlights-only reel but it looks really good and I’m mad we don’t get the rest of it. Refreshingly straightforward sets/costumes and engaging performance.

#21. 1951 film. This movie is so extra. There’s really no other way to describe it. Everyone is gay. The sets are gay. The room is gay. The air is gay. Ironically though Hoffmann and Nicklausse don’t get much gay time together. A lot of Nicklausse’s stuff is cut and I don’t like how they do the ending. The final trio in the Antonia act is fire though (pun intended—watch it and you’ll see).

#22 Miami 2017. Another highlight playlist on youtube. I like the “pour conjurer le danger” in particular. Nothing else terribly exciting though.

#23. Las Palmas 2022: WHY, IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 2022, ARE WE STILL USING THE CHOUDENS EDIT FOR THIS OPERA?? At least Nicklausse is adorable and Hoffmann has good chemistry with him and the ladies (especially Antonia), but this fun and quirky production is absolutely wasted on the abbreviated edit. Come onnnnnnnn. (Especially after already attempting the Oeser one a few years back???)

decent

#24.  Skanderbeg 2005. Production doesn’t do much for me—looks like it came out of a bad sci-fi movie—and most of the acting isn’t great but it’s got a really cute Hoffmann/Nicklausse dynamic that made it worth the watch. Antonia was pretty good too.

#25.  Parma 1988. Unremarkable but pretty cute and gay.

#26. Avignon 2009. Only the Olympia act is available sadly but from little there is you can tell it’s a really fun and adorable production with good acting and signing all around.

#27. Paris 2000. Same production as the 2003/2016 one but the acting is less compelling except poor Kirchschlager who really does her best but it’s hard to sing to a wall and this Hoffmann is pretty much a wall. Nicklausse does get to slap Hoffmann though which is excellent.

#28. Royal Opera House 2000. Same production as the 1981/2016 one but the acting is overall less captivating.

#29. Beijing 2013. Unremarkable production with okay cast and annoying edit but the chemistry between Hoffmann and Nicklausse?? The Violin Aria blows it out of the park. They practically kiss at the end. It’s glorious.

#30. Buenos Aires 2019. I have a visceral reaction to this one and severe love-hate relationship with it. The edit sucks (no Violin Aria) but the cast is great. The sets are cool but the production/staging is questionable. Individual performances are good but there’s not much chemistry between anyone. And finally, despite the fact that we get next to no chemistry between Hoffmann and Nicklausse (and may I remind you NO VIOLIN ARIA) they decide to have Nicklausse and Hoffmann kiss at the end. I ranted about this for a full day once so I won’t go into any more here. But seriously. Come on.

#31. Met 1973. Super old, terrible sound/picture quality, but iconic thanks to the one, the only Dame Joan Sutherland singing all three heroines (not four, no Giulietta act in this one. It’s a really terrible edit).

questionable

#32. Genève 2008. Weird and downright unpleasant at times. Phenomenally gay but Hoffmann is a total jerk. Villains are quite good but the production takes away from pretty much everything. I’d like the heroines a lot better if it wasn’t for that awful bob cut (and Olympia’s costume…or rather lack thereof…). Giulietta somehow makes the hair work. My favorite edit so far—just wish it had a better production to go with it.

#33 Mexico City 2020. They tried, they really did, to do a Kaye edit but they tripped at the finish line. Also the production is kinda “?” Actors are pretty decent but I can’t get over Dapertutto and Giulietta kidnapping Nicklausse while Hoffmann does nothing. Matching outfits are a win but there’s not much else.

#34 Seoul 2019. Interesting production with good acting. Some really odd directorial choices. Edit is awful.

#35 Monte-Carlo 2018. I hate this one for making Juan Diego Flórez one of my favorite Hoffmanns but giving him a terrible production to work with. We get a nicely devious set of villains and Olga Peretyatko is great as the ladies (thank goodness she gets another shot in the Hamburg one four years later) but I don’t even want to talk about what they do with Nicklausse here.

#36 Lyon 1993. I was hyped for this one, I really was. Reviews kept praising it for the cast (which is great) and the fact it’s the first recording to use the Kaye edit, but…it doesn’t really? The edit is practically unrecognizable; aside from some parts of the orchestration I really couldn’t tell you which edit it was using. The production itself is…wild. Disturbing almost. I have no idea what’s going on, it’s almost like some kind of fever dream.

meh

#37. Moscow 2019. Unremarkable to the point of being forgettable. Odd and not compelling. Stop using Choudens people.

#38. Nagoya 2010. Okay production. Odd at points but Hoffmann is really cute and I do like the Antonia quite a bit.

#39. Hagan 2020. I don’t even know what this is supposed to be. I don’t think the director did either.

awful

#40. Berlin 2015. Edit is atrocious and production is equally bad. Nicklausse is pretty good and some of the Hoffmanns are decent (because, yes, there are multiple performers playing Hoffmann) but it’s just…I don’t even know.

#41. Dutch National Opera 2018. Do you know how much I’d give to see (most of) this cast in a Hoffmann production? One that’s not this one because it’s awful? They try to modernize it but it just doesn’t work at all and they make Nicklausse a girl for the entire show and just. Wow. No thank you. John Osborne and Erwin Schrott deserve so much better.

#42. Madrid 2014. I couldn’t begin to tell you what they are trying to do in this one. Another terrible interpretation of Nicklausse and the rest of the characters don’t seem to know what they are doing. I don’t think anyone working on the show did.

#43. Brussels 2019. You could barely even call this Les contes d’Hoffmann because of all the ridiculous stuff they add to make it something it really is not. The production is just plain confusing. Is it the opera? Is it a movie? Is it them trying to film the movie? There’s no consistent reality. They throw the gay out the window here too with another girl Nicklausse. And Hoffmann is quite a piece of work himself.

#44. Salzburg 2005. Another monstrosity that attempts to un-gay the opera and totally demolishes the Hoffmann/Nicklausse dynamic. I can’t believe this is actually McVicar. Why would a gay opera director decide to direct one of the gayest operas ever only to mutilate it to this extent.

#45. Antwerp 2000. Same production as above so same level of terribleness.

#46. Klostenberg 2019. What. Just what. I can’t even.

#47. Bregenzer Festspiele 2015. I’m convinced everyone working on this was high on shrooms while they made it because I can’t think of any other explanation for how bizarre it is.

#48. Mexico City 1987. Didn’t even watch this one because Nicklausse is a tenor which is an unforgiveable sin.

and there you have it! Now I just need to watch two more to make it an even 50!

thank you for letting me rant about this opera yet again:) I never get tired of it!

#asks #les contes d'hoffmann #the tales of hoffman #opera #opera tag #opera reviews #holy heck i've seen a lot of this opera #and now i wanna go and watch a bunch more lol

[warabidakihime]

Shadowless

Characters: Modern AU!Levi x Reader Trigger warnings: implied death Listen to this while reading: link.

A/N: I was ready to go to bed when I got the urge to write something, so here it is; I've always wanted to write a classic trope like this, and I hope to write another one with multiple chapters in the future. I wrote this in less than 10 minutes, so please excuse any typos or other errors. I hope you enjoy it!

Please leave a comment as it greatly helps me.

Levi was cleaning the apartment you shared with him. He wasn't even sure why, but he had decided to clean it last night after he had finished his shift at the animal hospital, where he worked as a volunteer.

On his way there, each of his steps grew heavier and the look on his face grew drearier. Every fiber of his being is screaming at him to turn around and run, but he knows it's time for him to set the record straight with you or else he won't be able to move on.

So here he was, doing what he had done so many times before: cleaning the place up from top to bottom. He'd been at it for hours now, scrubbing every corner of your apartment with vigor—but not quite enough vigor—and was nearly done with his work when he accidentally hit his head on the cupboards.

"Ah, fuck."

He stopped for a moment to soothe the sharp pain in his head, and while he did so, he took a look around your home, sweet home. It still looks the same, but at the same time it's not. The homey feeling was gone, and so was your presence. When Levi first arrived there, he could still smell your scent, although it was already faint as the place had been empty for nearly a month now, but after he had scrubbed the place from top to bottom, all he could smell now was either bleach or the cleaner he had used earlier to clean the countertops.

Staring into space, Levi's eyes began to sting with tears.

It's already been a month, but it's still so hard for him to accept his new reality.

And that reality is starting a life all by himself. No, you didn't break up. In fact, you were at the peak of your relationship. You were in nirvana. You were in the middle of planning your wedding as Levi had finally proposed to you six years into your relationship, but everything came to a halt when you were diagnosed with cancer.

No one saw it coming.

You were healthy as a horse, and then one day you started losing your hair due to your chemotherapy treatment.

The doctors said you were going to beat this cancer—they said it would take time, but they were right: it had taken time. And now it was coming back with a vengeance, as if your body had decided that it wasn't ready to fight yet.

On the day you passed away, you were lying in your bed, unable to move. You can't even lift a finger, but there's a gentle hand on yours that keeps you lucid. It was Levi, leaning over you with a smile on his face. He was smiling on the outside, but on the inside he was feeling anything but happy. But you were in so much pain already. He didn't want you to worry, so he tried his best to smile for you. It was also his way of telling you that everything was going to be fine.

He leaned down and kissed you and whispered the sweetest I love you he could muster.

You want to say "I love you too," but all that comes out is a weak whisper. You tried again: "I love... Levi," but your voice croaked as you were growing incredibly weak by the minute.

Levi hated to see you in pain. It was like watching a loved one slowly lose their mind, and he hated that you were so far gone that you couldn't even understand what was happening to your body.

Levi's selfishness is the reason you're still alive right now. 

He's not ready to say goodbye, and yet seeing you like this hurts him so much.

It was obvious that you were out of time. The doctor even indicated that you just have a week. They halted your treatments after learning the devastating news, fearing that it might further stimulate the cancer cells. You're on your deathbed at this point, waiting for the inevitable. 

"Y/N, I don't want you to go, but if it's too hard for you, you can always let go. It'll hurt like a bitch and I won't be able to go on, but if it's peace you need, you're free to close your eyes and rest. Just remember that I love you so much. You've been fighting for so long. It's alright, Y/N."

As he said his last goodbyes to you, fat tears streamed down his cheeks. 

His chest hurt so terribly that he thought his heart would burst, but he knows his pain pales in comparison to the pain you're feeling right now.

"I'm going to miss you," Levi whispered solemnly.

Later that day, your already fragile grip on his hand had completely disintegrated, and your hand had fallen to your side. Your skin's hue faded gradually, and your chest stopped moving. Levi was rendered utterly numb at that point. He remained still for the entire time the doctors and nurses attended to you before they carried you outside and led you to the mortuary.

Levi was present in your wake, but after the last day, he disappeared from everyone's view. No one could reach him, but everyone thought it would be best to leave him alone for the time being and let him process everything.

And here he is now a month later.

In your shared apartment, cleaning the place like a mad lad.

When Levi finished cleaning, the sun had almost set, and the dark night sky was already visible in the distance. 

Normally, it doesn't take him long to complete a task, but his emotions would get the best of him every now and then, causing him to halt what he was doing. 

It irritated him to no end, but he saw it as a chance to work through his emotions.

It will be a long time before he is fully healed, but he has finally taken the first step.

No, he will not forget about you. 

No way.

This is simply him accepting what has happened.

Levi took one last glance around the flat before leaving. 

The breeze smacked his face hard as soon as he exited the building complex, and for some reason, it made him smile.

As he walked towards the bus station, he spoke to the wind, "Until we meet again."

TAGLIST: @babygirl-panda19 @hypnocountrymusicfunnyfan @exodarkwolf16 @qdreamueen @vesta-ro

#levi aot #snk levi #levi x reader #levi ackerman fic #levi attack on titan #levi x you #levi x y/n #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #captain levi x reader #captain levi ackerman #captain levi x you #captain levi #aot fanfiction #aot fic #snk fic #warabidakihime #uhm yeah #this happened #good night hehe

[ursarangler]

[A video is attached. It seems to have been taken the previous night. It looks like it was taken from the woods, peeking out from some thick brush at a fishing pier that extends out a ways into the Lake of Rage. Kenneth can be vaguely seen sitting at the end of the pier, drinking bourbon straight from the bottle and staring out into the lake. Two hushed voices can be heard talking behind the camera.

??? 1: That's him?

??? 2: Yeah, that's the guy. I heard from a buddy of mine who lives here that he's been acting kinda mopey lately. I know the boss said not to come up here, but look at him. Look at him. That's an easy target if I ever saw one.

??? 1: I don't know, man. He's still build like a brick shithouse.

The camera moves in a bit closer as the unknown voices move through the brush. Kenneth seems to remain unaware, staring into the bottle as it's caught by the moonlight. The sound of a pokeball activating can be heard.

??? 1: Hey, wait...! You're not actually planning on—

??? 2: This might be the best shot we have at taking him out! If we do that—if we succeed where everyone else failed and kill this fucker dead—then we'll be next in line for executive for sure! Hell, this town might even thank us for getting this damn psychopath out of here.

??? 1: Are you trying to get yourself killed!?

??? 2: "Yourself"!? No, no, we're going into this together. We swore up together, you knew what you were getting into coming out here with me, no chickening out now. Besides, with how he is now, we should be able to take him out if we can get the drop on him.

The two voices, now clearly identifiable as Rocket grunts, creep ever closer. Kenneth sets the bottle down and continues to gaze out into the lake.

Grunt 2: Are you ready?

Grunt 1: No.

Grunt 2: Too bad. Alright let's g-

The second grunt is cut off by a loud thump noise that knocks the camera to the ground, covering the feed in darkness. This is quickly followed by a yelp and some pained groans.

Grunt 1: Are you okay...!? What happened!?

Grunt 2: Ugh... What the fuck? Did someone just throw a rock at me!? Fuck fuck fuck, it hurts...

Grunt 1: Shit, you're bleeding a lot. Alright, fuck this stupid plan of yours, let's... Oh. Oh no.

Grunt 2: What, oh no wh—

The sound of an Arbok being sent out is heard followed by panicked yelling and scrambling into the woods. At the same time, something can be heard approaching rapidly, roaring in pure rage. It can be heard snarling and wrestling with the Arbok for a minute, crunching and snapping indicating that the snake's bones are being broken, scales being peeled away. The poison type hisses and cries out in pain as it's beaten and drug away from the phone, a loud crunch indicating that something major has been broken before a brief silence, then the sound of something being tossed into the lake.

Heavy, growly breathing can be heard for a moment, then the assailant growls something unintelligible in North Sinnohan before storming past the camera again and taking off deeper into the woods. The camera continues rolling for a while. Not much is heard at first apart from the sounds of wildlife, something splashing on the surface of the lake, and some quieter footsteps. After about five minutes of ambiance, two distant, terrified screams are heard. After that, several more minutes of silence are recorded before the phone runs out of storage space and the video ends.]

Found this by the lake last night. Damn Mandibuzzes. These bastards ain't even waiting for me to die, they're picking at my bones while I'm still trying to breathe. I need to pull my shit together. Ain't no use moping if it's just gonna make the Rockets cocky and get me targeted like this. So what if Martin just sees me as a tool to provide blood for his little "goddess of pain" or whatever, so what? That ain't my problem. My life ain't gotta end just because I'm alone again.

I've been alone before. I was alone for decades. I can damn well be alone again.

#dogposting #pkmn irl #pokeblog rp #pokeblogging #cw pokemon harm #cw death implied

[mr-and-mr-diaz]

BUCK & EDDIE ACTUAL SIZES: A Thorough Essay, Part 1

(I would post this all at once but the new tumblr thingee only lets me post 10 photos at a time, and THAT WILL NOT DO)

Alright folks, have a seat! Today we’re going to discuss the REAL size difference between Eddie and Buck once and for all. There are too many discrepancies at the moment, so I'm going to burn an unGodly amount of time I should be using to work to set the record straight gay bi.

Currently, based off of a good deal of collective fandom description, Buck looks like this:

And Eddie looks like this:

This discrepancy presents itself in many ways, from Clothing Sharing fanfics that show Buck *HULK SMASH* splitting all the seams of Eddie’s clothes, and the reverse of Eddie veritably swimming in Buck’s clothes (wHy to both??). Then there’s Eddie having to get in his ippy tippy toes to kiss Buck (nope), or Buck having to bend alllllllll the way down to kiss Eddie (also no). Onwards we have descriptions of hugs where Buck holds Eddie in his arms, delicate and small like a wee starved orphan and Eddie struggling to reach all the way around Buck’s *HULK SMASH* massive girth... I can go on, but I think I’ve made my point. (actually one more: What the fuck is up with giving Buck massive hands and Eddie lil teeny tiny ones?? ‘Kay I’m done now) Okay, onward to the important corrections accompanied by useful visual references.

Note: I will be going over various proportions, from head to hands, to height to torso size to musculature--and for musculature I will go by season since that changes quite a bit (but NEVER ENOUGH to justify the descriptions above). ALSO fair warning, once you have seen the proportions I will point out, you CANNOT unsee them.

(More underneath the cut to save your dash ^3^)

Height

Let's start with the most basic: height. This is simply done with a Google search--Oliver Stark is 6'2 and Ryan Guzman is 6' exactly. So Buck and Eddie are two inches apart. Enough to be noticeable but hardly enough that anyone has to stretch/duck to reach anything.

Think this:

NOT this:

Torso

Why torso, you ask? Well, for buddie it actually makes a large impact on the above mentioned height difference, you'll see what I mean in a minute:

Have a good long look at that. Wardrobe dressed them the same and it is going to help illustrate this IMMENSELY (thank you, wardrobe! ^3^)

What do your elf eyes see?

Correct, Ryan Guzman's torso is A LOT LONGER than Oliver Stark's! Why is this important? Well for one thing, it creates the illusion that Oliver is even taller when they're standing up, since Oliver's short torso gives him gorgeous legs FOR DAYSSSSS. It also means their belt lines are miles apart, despite being almost the same height, which again makes Ryan look artificially shorter at first glance. Don't let yourselves be fooled though--remember, height is only measured in one thing: How far the top of their heads are from that off-white ceiling.

The other reason their torso height difference is very important is this:

Do you see it yet? K one more:

That's correct!! Because his torso is longer, EDDIE IS TALLER THAN BUCK WHEN THEY'RE SITTING DOWN. Proportions are wild, I know XD

Part 2 coming up! In it we'll discuss head size, hand size, and the highly anticipated (and highly contested) mUSculAtuRE :)

***

Many thanks to @blutterlie, our discussion on this topic is what inspired this post! And thank you also to @trashendence for sending me the wardrobe photo where they're dressed the same, I could not find that thing to save MY LIFE!

If you want to be tagged in future posts on this topic, message me or reply here!

#Looooooong #buddie #ryan guzman #oliver stark #eddie diaz #evan buckley #tired of the odd size depictions in fandom #so I've taken WAY too much time to set the record straight #or gay as it were #*ACCURATE #BUCK & EDDIE ACTUAL SIZES

[shortestcake]

PRETTY PRINCESS

Pairing: Caitlyn x Reader

Pronouns used: none

Gendered terms: none

Genre: fluff

Summary: If there was something you hated more than any other being, idea, or object, it was enforcers. Topsiders had taken everything from you, and enforcers were the ones leading them while they did. So what on earth were you supposed to do when you one decided to sneak her way into your heart?

You detested working with Caitlyn, you really did, however Vi insisted on letting her help during missions. Saying it was 'the least you could do', which, of course, you didn't agree with in the slightest.

 Sure, she might've brought back your childhood friend, but you didn't owe her anything because of it. As much as you loved being reunited with a part of your found family, she wasn't even close to setting the record straight.

 Caitlyn, on the other hand, wanted to befriend you, she saw how nice you were to everyone else, and she hoped she'd be able to have such a relationship with you.

"What's our next move?" Caitlyn peaked from behind you, eyes scanning the project you were working on.

 You continued to tinker with the clumps of metal on your desk, not even sparing her a glance "Ask Ekko, he makes the plans." Your eyes narrowed, irritated both at the woman bothering you, and another fail at completing this weapon.

An irritated groan was heard in your small room, before another noise, metal hitting wood, as you tossed your failed project across your table.

You pushed your chair back, lolling your head backward. Soon, your defeated expression, turned into a scowl, observing how Caitlyn hadn't left.

 "What're you still doing here?" Your glare, although an odd look on your usually calm face, did nothing to scare her away. "Well, I've noticed you've been struggling with your new project, so," Caitlyn brought a small bag to your eyes view, "I brought you materials, I hope they help."

For a split second, you thought you saw nervousness in her eyes, but you were too busy fighting yourself mentally to be sure. On one hand, you didn't want to accept it from her, for her to think she's winning you over. On the other hand, you knew that there were probably useful objects in that bag. Caitlyn had money to waste in Topside's shops, unlike you, who either dug for or stole junk.

 Deciding to swallow your pride, you reached out and grabbed the sack, muttering a small 'thanks' before hastily looking through its components.

 You noted the drastic contrast between the quality of what you usually work with and the shiny metal pieces that had just been presented to you. When you finally raised your head to look at Caitlyn, she had an expecting look on her face, "What? If you think I owe you anything because of this, you're dead wrong." You scoffed, eyes becoming cold again.

 She visibly panicked, "No! Of course not, if you'd like, I'll leave.", Caitlyn fumbled with her words a bit, a peculiar look on the confident woman.

 "No, you can stay," you reassured her before you could think, "you did bring me these, stay on my bed while I work, if you want."

 The enforcer seemed more than happy to sit beside you and watch you craft all sorts of weapons. From time to time, she asked about the maneuvering for using them, her insistent bugging lead to a surprisingly pleasant conversation.

 "Fascinating." Caitlyn looked in awe at your finished project, pride swelled in your chest. Finally, all your hard work paid off, you knew you had to have been sitting in your room for ages. Once you got up to stretch, satisfying pops rocked across your body.

 "Mhm, it's definitely dark by now." You turned to the blue-haired woman, now resting in a more comfortable position, "So, princess, may I sleep in my own bed?" 'Princess' was a nickname you'd given Caitlyn the day you met, initially, it was a way to mock her for her formal language and other overly-sophisticated mannerisms, now, however, the tone you used was different, still teasing, but kinder, almost in a friendly way.

"Ah, my bad." She apologized and swiftly removed herself from your mattress, flattening your sheets.

 You've never seen her in such a domestic setting, for some reason, you'd built the impression that she was all work no play, you giggled to yourself at the idea of her falling asleep in her uniform.

Caitlyn looked back at you, a bit confused, still smiling, nonetheless. "What's so funny?", she mused, quirking an eyebrow at your behavior. "Nothing, just a thought." You tried and failed, to fight back the smile on your face.

 The two of you bid goodnight to each other while you shut your wooden door, then, you stood there for a few seconds, not removing your hands from the door nob and wall. Oh, the irony, the one person- the one topsider you constantly tried to avoid and shut out, was now walking away from you while wanted to grab her attention.

 You bit your lip, hesitantly reopening your door, then calling out, "Wanna sleep over?" Although you weren't too loud, and she'd already made a fair enough distance away from your room, your suggestion didn't fail to make her stop in her tracks and whip her head around.

 Your question clearly left her awestruck as she stood a few feet from you, jaw agape while processing your words.

 Though, her stationary stance wasn't long-lasting, since soon she found herself making her way back towards you.

"You did mention you were lonely." Were the first words that left your mouth when Caitlyn was fully in your cozy room, "So did you."

 A tired smile graced your features before you got comfortable on your bed, then you motioned for your guest to accompany you, "Well, shall we be lonely together?" Your playful tone still somehow managed to shine through the thick sleepiness in your voice.

 You noticed how flustered she got at your suggestion, you chuckled and moved to lay on your side, "C'mon, I know it's not king-sized, but it'll do."

Surprisingly, Caitlyn remained entirely silent while she got comfortable by your side.

 "You know, just yesterday I would've hated myself if I knew I'd allow this." Your voice was barely above a whisper, "Oh? And now? Do you hold anger towards yourself?" Caitlyn's wasn't much louder, you noticed that her voice, although almost always stern, held a certain softness you couldn't get over.

 You pretend to think for a bit, humming with your eyes closed, "Maybe, just maybe, a bit less."

 You woke up to Caitlyn quietly sneaking out of your room, "Leaving so soon?" You teased, pulling your duvet up to cover anything under your head. "I didn't think you were a morning person." She held the door slightly cracked open, enough to let what little light there was outside pour into your bedroom.

 "I didn't think I was either, what time is it?" You groaned, turning around and squeezing your eyes shut. A small giggle fell from her lips while she observed your state, "Around 5 am."

 If you had the energy, you would've turned back around fast enough to cause neck or back injuries, but you didn't, so instead, you settled for mumbling your response. "You're not human."

 Caitlyn rolled her eyes at your words, fully opening the oak door to continue her way back to her bedroom- if you could call it that. Ekko had been kind enough to give her a spare room to rest for when she was too tired after missions or simply stay over to give the few friends she made company.

 A few hours passed when you'd gotten out of your bedroom, you sluggishly made your way to have breakfast with the rest of The Firelights. You ate two sandwiches while discussing with Rili, one of the oldest Firelight members.

 You happily chatted with them until your conversation got cut short, apparently, a new shimmer manufacturing facility was located.

 As usual, around 20 members hastily made their way to prepare for the mission, you included. You excitedly loaded your new weapons, thrilled with being able to use them so soon.

 Usually, Ekko liked to have calculated attacks, to plan them out more, but he knew that striking fast and hard was the best way to deal with fresher sources.

 So, in less than ten minutes, your group was leaving, discussing a few attack tactics on the way to your destination.

 Coincidentally, yours and Caitlyn's fighting tactics would work best together, so it'd been decided that the two of you would stay further away together, in order to take out anyone who'd try to sneak up on the rest.

 "Would you look at that, looks like I really can't get rid of you, princess."

 "It doesn't seem like you'd want to."

 Just like Ekko assumed, there wasn't much shielding for this source, most of Silco's men were busy taking care of the older and stronger ones since they had more value.

 You were usually happy with easy missions, but you couldn't deny the slight disappointment in not being able to properly use your weapons.

 To keep yourself distracted, you talked with Caitlyn, enjoying her subtle reactions to your teasing, occasionally, she even 'flirted' back, if that's what you'd call whatever was blossoming between you two.

 The assignment ended rather quickly, you happily noted the lack of major injuries on your friends' bodies.

 By the time you'd all gotten home safely, most people were napping or preparing to, you- on the other hand- had far too much pent up energy, you ran straight after Ekko, asking him about the next mission, and if you could also be apart of it.

 Even if you had already tested your guns and bombs earlier, you'd been working on them for so long- basically, you were in dire need of the opportunity to use them in the real world.

So, he decided to let you tag along on the next weeks' mission, where you'd be attacking shimmer shipments.

 You knew it'd be a hard one since Ekko'd been planning this attack for weeks, there was a precise time for leaving, 3:05 pm sharp. Which, you found slightly odd, since, although Ekko was often very precise, he never planned out so many details, you wondered what you'd have to face.

You decided to have lunch, then spend the rest of your day tinkering with your new firearms, even though they worked perfectly fine, you still wanted to try adding some extra features to them.

 By the time you got around to sleeping, it was pitch black outside, you didn't even bother putting your weapons away, leaving them on your desk before crashing on your bed.

 You spent the following seven days as usual, except for one significant change, Caitlyn.

 The two of you had been talking daily, she'd come to your room while you worked on devices, or accompany you for meals.

 She ended up knowing all about your excitement for the mission. She tried convincing you to sleep earlier the night prior, to be better prepared for tomorrow. 

 Even with her insistent pestering, you got around to sleeping by the time it was pitch black outside, you didn't even bother putting your weapons away, leaving them on your desk before crashing on your bed.

 Before the sun started shining through the leaves and branches of your tree, you were already up, as groggy as you were, you felt oddly at peace. Was this what you'd been missing out on by sleeping in?

 You walked around the wooden balcony, your palms hovered over the railing, your eyes followed your fingertips as they undulated in the air.

 Since your eyes were trained on the movement of your hand rather than your environment you didn't notice the tall enforcer observing you a few feet away.

 "You're up early." She approached you rearwards, and you swore she hadn't made a single noise.

 "Hm? Find it hard to believe I can wake up before lunch?" you joked, using your spare hand to hug your blanket closer. "Just a bit." Her sudden boldness around you managed to catch you off guard several times, not that you let it show.

 Both of you chatted amongst each other to keep yourselves busy. Around ten minutes before you had to leave, you and Caitlyn departed, for you to change into proper attire.

 Just as Ekko had planned, your team left at exactly 3:05 pm, you each road your boards across The Lanes. 

By the time the mission was over, you had begun to wish you weren't so determined to use your gadgets. You barely had the energy to climb back onto your board. 

 Once you reached home, you would've sprinted to your room and collapse onto your bed, that is, if you had the energy. Instead, you groaned while stepping on the ground, your soar muscles screaming in protest at each movement. 

 Not as if you were the only one. Most Firelight members that were with you today were all depleted.

 The others must've heard the commotion you were causing. Some people came to help carry heavier weapons back to their respective rooms.

 Caitlyn walked toward you with a worried expression. "Need some help?'

 Instead of answering, you looked her up and down, trying to process the last few days' events. You couldn't seem to fathom how quickly your relationship escalated. How she went from the one individual you detested into the first person to check up on you when you appeared out of shape.

 "Hello?" Caitlyn's voice snapped you to reality, "I could carry your machinery back." She volunteered.

 "Hey princess, do me a solid, would you?"

 "Oh, and, what may that be?" 

 "Carry me." Her eyes, already wide with curiosity for your answer, only widened upon hearing your request. 

 You weren't sure how you'd convinced her, but you definitely weren't complaining.

 Caitlyn carried you bridal style the entire way back to your room, voicing no complaints whatsoever. She placed you on your bed and took your weapons to position them on your table. 

 Before she could leave, you called out to her and patted the spot beside you.

 "Okay, be honest, are you magic?"

 Her puzzled look made you giggle, "I mean, first Vi, then Ekko, now me. How do you do it?" You were still laying down, but you turned sideways to face her.

 "I'm not sure I understand. How do I do what?" Her confusion only made you giggle more, "This!" You gestured between both of you. "Just two days ago, I despised you, and now, I just let you carry me around this damn place."

 You took in a deep breath before proceeding, "Vi I can understand, but one of the main things that bonded Ekko and me during our childhood was our hate for enforcers."

 "I guess you're just that likable." Caitlyn was visibly flustered after your short ramble, her mouth would open and close without any noise coming from it. You chuckled at the silent movement of her lips. Once you looked back into her eyes, you noticed her gaze was further down your face.

 You also noticed how much the gap between the two of you decreased.

 Caitlyn paused before making it any slighter, looking back into your eyes, giving you the chance to pull away. You didn't.

 Finally, after a week of mutual pinning, your lips sealed one another.

 Kissing Caitlyn was everything one could expect, her lips were soft, and she was oh so delicate. It was short but sweet. 

 The look on her face when you separated was one you'd dream about. You loved it when you managed to daze her out of her usually composed demeanor, even if it was just for a split second.

 The space between you didn't last long, both eager to crash your lips together once more.

 You could tell from the way her arms moved to pull you up by your waist, that this would not be the last time you kissed your pretty princess.

(Trying to get out of my comfort zone by writing for more charcters- I love caitlyn so much, she's definitely one of my favorites)

#caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn x reader #caitlyn arcane #caitlyn fluff #caitlyn x reader fluff #caitlyn kiramman x reader

[differentkettleoffishalltogether]

I’m On Fire [Chapter 1]

Summary: With her sister’s wedding fast approaching and her Mom hounding her about finding a date, Y/N makes a terrible decision that lands her and her least favorite genius in a confusing situation.

A/N:  This is the first part in a series, I’ve written the first few chapters already so I’m hoping to update pretty regularly! I hope you guys enjoy, and any feedback is always appreciated! ❤️

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Category: Fake Dating, Enemies to Lovers, (Eventual) Smut, Fluff, Angst, it’s a Slow Burn Baby

Warnings: None really for this chapter, cursing? Mean-ish Spencer

Word Count: 6.5k

Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

Masterlist 

I wasn’t at the BAU long before it started to feel like home. The team became my family, pure and simple.

Having been recruited by Hotch at only 22 I'd sort of fallen into the roll of the little sister to the team without really meaning to. It's not that I was naive, or particularly sheltered even. I know I'm good at my job, and I'd want to be, given how my life's revolved around it almost entirely. But the team seemed to adopt a protective mindset over me right off the bat.

When I first joined the FBI everything was terrifying. I worked so hard for my PhD, trying to get into the unit, but there's almost nothing that can actually prepare you for the real thing. Being out in action in the field, working the cases out in real time. Sometimes they had a smooth, easy conclusion followed by loud obnoxious drinks together. Then there were the others, the ones that kept me up for days after and felt as though they owned little pieces of my heart still.

It was JJ that helped the most on those horrible flights back on the jet. Noticing my anxious ticks and uneasy disposition after that first case that had ended badly. JJ had been through it all before, taking too many cases home with her. Seeing her son's little faces in the kids that we couldn't help. If I was the baby of the team JJ was the big sister, looking out for everyone.

Morgan on the other hand was the outrageously cool older brother, the one you just wanted to be. Early on he'd helped my weak self with the ruthless fitness regimen the FBI required, he offered to pull some strings and get the test written off. But I couldn't accept that, there was something in me that just wanted to impress Morgan, and honestly still does. Like somehow if he thought you were cool, then it became true. So I passed the exam, but getting up a flight of stairs was near impossible for a week after.

Emily was probably the fun aunt. The one that would sneak you booze at the family gathering, or take you to your first concert. Emily was actually the one who'd found me, digging around colleges for potential recruits she'd had me picked out for a while I later found out. Insisting that Hotch give me a shot. It was reassuring to know I had someone who would stick up for me from day one.

I was an tech analyst, among other things, sort of a counterpart for Garcia in the field. So it was no surprise to anyone when the two of us hit it off as though we'd known each other forever. We weren't the same by any means though. Penelope was bold, and bright, and confident beyond measure, where I've typically felt like more of a blend into the background type. I've always thought of myself that way, despite my achievements. I'd also always believed I was fairly inoffensive, no one I'd met had ever had a huge problem with me, 'till I got to the BAU that is.

Every rose has its thorn I suppose.

That thorn in my side was Dr. Spencer Reid.

It wasn't that Dr. Reid was a bad agent, or even a bad person. I hadn't actually met him before that first day in the conference room, but I'd known who he was for a long time. Before I came along he'd held the mantle of 'youngest ever recruit' in the unit, while I was studying I'd read any of his work I could get my hands on because of that fact.

I figured it must've been some sort of hazing when he looked me up and down that first day I was introduced, and then proceeded to blank me entirely for a full week. Up until I'd wrapped my first case.

The whole team went straight from the jet to the bar. Proceeding to get far too drunk. Spencer joined, which the rest of the team found unusual, and I probably should've taken as a sign of things to come.

That case went well, and everyone was in high spirits but Reid had a sour disposition, at least it seemed that way every time he looked at me. After a few too many drinks I went outside in an attempt to sober up in the cold air, unfortunately Reid must've snuck outside not long before.

"Ugh" was all he said when he first caught my silhouette approaching him. The night was unusually cold so it had been deserted outside the bar that evening. I wasn't really sure why it made me nervous to be alone with him like this, the two of us leaning back against the same small area of brick wall, looking out at the cold night.

"Nice to see you too doctor" was all I could muster, I was drunk enough that I let my sarcastic tone leap out, "you can relax, I'm just trying to get some fresh air, it's too stuffy in there, and loud. I'm not here to talk to you or anything."

"Well aren't you a sensitive thing" he responds in kind, at that point I wasn't really sure if it was a coincidence or if he'd been genuinely avoiding me, but things were starting to clear up.

"I'm sensitive, that's a fun take on things" I joke, taking a long sip of cold water from my glass.

"And what's that supposed to mean, newbie?" his emphasis on the last word all but confirms my suspicions.

"Fuck man, what's your problem with me? Is it because I'm new, or because I beat your stupid record?" I quip. hoping that at the very least it might coax him out of his shell. Dr. Spencer Reid getting angry at me could honestly be better than the nothing I'd been experiencing from him until now.

"What stupid record?" he sounds genuinely confused

"I'm the youngest BAU recruit now?" I didn't know why else he could be so sour. He'd never met me before last week, and since he'd ignored me that first day I'd done all I could not to step on his toes. So if he had a reason to hate me this much, it wasn't something I'd done on purpose.

He takes a few moments to respond, raising his eyebrows and considering the information. He chuckles. He fucking chuckles.

"That's funny." he says, his voice leveling out, "I didn't peg you as funny newbie" that word sets something off in me again. Something about it is dismissive, or belittling. Before I could fight back he starts to move, maneuvering around me and heading back inside. A little too tipsy to think of anything constructive to say, I just mutter "Fuck you Spencer."

He swings open the door, as he walks inside he just says "See you Monday, Newbie" without even looking at me.

And that was only the beginning.

----

"You know I'm just trying to make sure you get enough rest sweetheart. There's no need to get so defensive!" it was far too early in the morning to be dealing with this call. Since joining the BAU a few years ago this was a standard call from my Mom. Equal parts well meaning and over-bearing, and generally asking far too many questions.

"I'm not getting defensive Mom, I get plenty of rest, my job is just very important to me and you know that." I knew she was right to be at least a little worried, this job was consuming, and in all honesty I wasn't sure how people like JJ were married and still here. It seemed like an impossible feat.

"Fine sweetie, how are your co-workers doing then? How's Penelope? Give her my love" she loved Penelope, I think she thought that Penelope tethered me to the normal world, and in a way she was right. She kept me sane, and fun, and made me eat pizza and do face masks once a week at least. Even when I didn't think I wanted to.

"Pen's great Mom, everyone's good. Well, the usual ones get on my nerves, but I'm fine." As I say it I glance across at Dr. Reid, the only person who's also in as early as I am most days. I'm not sure if he can hear me but he's tapping his pen so loud on his desk that it takes all of my energy not to walk across the bullpen and stab him with it.

"Y'know what Mom, I'm actually just after getting to work and it's a busy day so can I call you back later?" I chance, getting her off the phone is always an ordeal.

"Fine, fine, I'll let you go. But wait one last thing!"

I knew what was coming. It was always coming.

"Are you seeing anyone, Margot's been wondering too, just thought I'd check in?"

Pinching the bridge of my nose and trying not to scream down the line, I just sigh out the frustration instead.

"No Mom, believe it or not, I've made no progress on that front since you asked me all of 3 days ago."

"See you are being defensive!" she snaps

"I gotta go, bye Mom. Love you!" I say, hanging up quickly before dropping my head down into my arms on my desk, resting like that for a few moments in silence.

Hearing Garica chuckle behind my ear I perk up and spin around. She's holding a small paper cup of coffee and hands it to me. I look at it confused, "Sorry about the paper, I couldn't find your mug in the cabinet" she apologizes, looking over at Dr. Reid and rolling her eyes. Now I know he can hear me from his seat, he takes that moment to sip from my mug and place it gently back on his desk.

It hadn't taken long for him to start toying with me. It was always stupid childish things. Things I couldn't get genuinely annoyed at, that would give him far too much satisfaction, knowing he was getting to me in any real way. This was one trick he liked to play if he got into the office before me, he'd take my mug and make his coffee in it, just to spite me I guess.

"Why does he even do that, it's so stale" she said, just a little louder than normal to make sure he could hear. Garcia and Reid were still good friends and team-mates but she liked to stand up for me when she could. He liked to avoid me as much as possible so he'd usually go to Garcia before me if he needed help with something. Even when the two of us were out in the field together. Which was obnoxious but it was just another thing I'd gotten used to over time. And as long as it didn’t interfere with the case I just forced myself to let it go.

"I know it's such low grade bullying isn't it?" I shot back with a chuckle.

"So I'll take it that was Mommy dearest" Penelope gestures to my phone. She knew my Mom, and she knew about her general overbearing energy. I let out a groan thinking about the call again, and the calls that were to come.

"Isn't it always Mommy dearest?" I joke

"So she's still on your ass about the wedding then?" I'm sure Penelope was almost as sick of hearing about it as I was,

"Margot's getting married in like 4 months now, and every time Mom calls there’s just some new hometown loser she wants to set me up with Pen. It's fucking exhausting" I take a sip of the coffee she made me, savoring the bitter taste. She sits down on my desk for a moment, leaning in.

"Honey, did you ever think that if you got out there and found someone, she wouldn't be on your ass at all?" I don't want to think about that, about how she's completely right. All I can do is let out another small groan and lean back down onto my desk.

"Too early Pen" I say, it's muffled by the desk but she gets the message. Hopping up and heading to her own office as some more people start to arrive for the morning.

Leaving me alone to make a start on my paperwork that had built up throughout the week. Fridays were usually slow like this, giving me a little too much time to think. I couldn't shake the thought that my Mom and Penelope were actually right. Maybe I was a bit too invested in the job, and maybe that was a pretty big factor in why my last relationship imploded but I wasn't about to admit that to anyone.

----

After that the day crawls by, thankfully no cases pop up so the weekend might actually be free. Trying to make sure I clear up all of my paperwork takes a little longer than I'd hoped and leaves me alone in the bullpen. It seems like everyone's gone home by the time I've packed up and I'm ready to leave. Which wasn't as out of the ordinary as I'd like it to be really. Everyone else seemed to have somewhere to be on a Friday night.

Waiting for the elevator to arrive my phone started to ring, I could see my Mom's caller ID on the screen. If I just let it go I know she'll call back later, may as well get it out of the way. I take a deep breath in anticipation before I answer.

"Hey what's up?" I answer, stepping inside the elevator as the doors ping open.

"Hi sweetie, I've got good news! Do you remember David? That lovely boy, he helped out your Father that summer in high school?" I know what's coming and rub my temple, trying to stifle the headache I know is coming. As I answer a hand slides between the elevator doors, popping them open again.

Dr. Fucking Reid walks in, and he looks about as happy to see me as I am to see him. I make eye contact and look away just as fast, willing him away with my mind. "Yes Mom, I remember him, why are you telling me this?" I already know the answer but I'm fed up, she still sounds excited when she responds.

"Well you won't believe it! I ran into him at the market this morning and I thought you'd like it if I passed on your phone number to him, maybe for the weddi-" it took all I had not to shout into the receiver, and maybe I would've had the elevator been empty.

"Mom! Jesus!" I have to reign myself in, but I have a bad idea, "You know what, I'm actually sorted. I've got a date lined up now" I'm not sure why I said it with no real plan in place. She sounds even more excited than I've ever heard her.

"Oh my, that's amazing sweetie! That was fast, I can't believe you found one since this morning, it's someone from work so?" she assumes, and I'm just not thinking fast enough to correct her.

"Mmhmm, yeah" I'll figure out the logistics later I rationalize.

"Oh! Is it that boy you're always on about, the one who teases you?" she asks, and her voice is full of joy, and it makes me feel horrible that I'm lying already, and that I'm going to let her down.

"Yup, that's the one, look Mom I gotta go, I'll talk to you later! Night" I blurt out so fast it has to be obvious I'm nervous.

I can hear a stifled chuckle behind me. Fuck. How loud is my phone speaker. Could he hear that. Surely not. But this elevator was completely silent. The doors open and I have to stop myself from running to my car at top speed. Instead I walk out just a little faster than normal, turning around to shoot him a small wave goodbye. And he's got this devious smirk on his face that makes my stomach turn.

Sitting into my car I pull out my phone to text Garcia immediately.

I'm on my way to yours right now. It's urgent.

——

Traffic's light so it takes maybe 10 minutes before I arrive at Garcia's place. My mind's racing and my body takes me there on autopilot. Why did I say any of that, why did I even answer the damn phone. Why did I wave goodbye to Spencer, I never usually did that. Maybe that's why he had that look on his face. Maybe he was just thinking of something funny that happened earlier and it had nothing to do with me at all. That was something he'd do to mess with me for sure.

How was I going to walk this back with my Mom, she was just gonna have more questions that I couldn't answer. Fuck.

Garcia buzzed me up and her door was open for me by the time I got up the stairs. This little purple apartment had become my second home. It was where I spent most of my evenings off, laughing on the same sofa I was collapsing face first into right now. Garcia nestles in beside me and runs her hand over my hair, "Hey sweet pea, what's happening? I don't want to sound too concerned but you're not giving me much to go off? Are you dying, is there drama? You're going to have to tell me what's so urgent before I burst a blood vessel?"

I let out a muffled, "is drahmuh" into the pillow, Garcia shakes my shoulders.

"Sit up babe, damn!" I have to heave myself out of the pillows, sitting upright on the sofa beside her, clutching one of the pillows in my arms.

"It's drama" I repeat,

"Well, out with it then, you know I'll take all the drama I can get! Spill, spill" she rushes me along. I'm already apprehensive, Reid's her coworker too, but if anyone would understand why this was such an issue it was gonna be her.

"Okay, I'm after doing something stupid and I think I really need your advice" I cringe already, thinking back to the elevator, throwing out my words faster, I continue the story, mostly trying to get it over with, "my Mom called again when I was on the way out tonight and she was trying to set me up with this guy, and Reid was there, and I got all flustered, and I told her I had a date already" I throw my head down into the pillow again.

"Wait why was Reid there?" she looks like she's trying to fit puzzle pieces together and she's getting nowhere, "And what's the drama?"

"Shit Garcia, it was in the elevator and it was all quiet, and maybe he heard the call, maybe he didn't but he had this fuckin' look on his stupid face" I can't shake the smug little smirk, it's burned inside my eyelids. Garcia's face falls in what looks like disappointment.

"Ugh Y/N! That's nothing chill out, why does it matter if he heard your call? I know you guys are all weird but none of that is any of his business anyway!" she shoo's her hand in the air, dismissing the whole situation.

"No Garcia, it is his business now" I have to close my eyes when I say it, I can't look at her "I told my Mom that he was my date, well, I didn't say his name or anything, she assumed it was someone from work and so I just agreed, and then she suggested that it was him and then I fucking panicked Pen, I fucked up so bad. What do I do?"

I finally opened my eyes to look up at Garcia. She was sitting in pure silence, pursing her lips in what seemed like contemplation. The puzzle pieces finally slotting together. It's as though a light bulb goes off behind her eyes and she bursts out in fits of laughter. Doubling over on herself before finally taking a few breaths to calm herself down. I'm honestly not sure why she finds the whole thing so funny, she know's how needlessly annoying he's made my life, she's seen it first hand and heard me talk about it over and over again in this very apartment over pizza.

"Garcia, this is not fucking funny! This is serious!" I try to calm her down, I need advice not whatever this is.

"I'm so sorry Y/N, I love you dearly. But this isn't funny, this is hilarious. It's like you're Sandra Bullock in some mid-90's rom com. I love it" I don't love it, in fact I hate it. I nearly snap at her but pull myself back.

"Pen, come on, help me out. What do I do with this, how do I fix it?" I plead.

She stops laughing and pulls out her phone, "Okay, I'm sorry. I'm going to order us a pizza, and we're gonna sort this thing out together, sound good?" I just nod and collapse back into the sofa. I think I feel better now that I've gotten it out in the open.

----

Penelope makes us tea while we wait for the pizza, she keeps lemon & ginger in her cabinet for me, just like I keep mint for her. The warm mug and the steam calm me down. After a few minutes alone to think about it I start to figure it out a little better. I figure I can just lie to my Mom for a while, it might suck but I can pretend for a bit and then make up some excuse as to why he can't come closer to the time. Then I can just bring Garcia instead and everyone's happy. I'm about to float my plan to her there's a knock on her door. I was so caught up that I hadn't really noticed quite how starving I'd gotten. Leaping up of the sofa to grab the door.

I swing it open but it's not the pizza guy. Somehow it's the opposite of the pizza guy, my worst nightmare is on the other side of the door. He must notice my eyes blow completely wide. "Y/N!" he says, more of a statement than a question really, like he's telling himself that he's actually seeing me in the doorway. I'm not as gentle.

"What the fuck are you doing here Reid?!" I can't even disguise my anger. He seems a little flustered, like he's got absolutely no idea how to proceed.

"Um, uh, is Garcia here? I can, um, I can just come back later?" he swallows hard and shakes his head, before I can agree and tell him to get lost Penelope races to the door, pulling it wide open.

"Nope, that won't be necessary Doctor! Come on in, you're right on time sweetheart" she waves him in and he walks past me, his demeanor changing almost instantly. He's smug, like he's won whatever battle this was. And I hate it. Though he's still as confused as me despite the newfound attitude. Reid sits down on the sofa, right where I had been sitting. I bite my tongue and sit on the opposite end.

"Are you okay Garcia?" he asks with a genuine concern, "What's going on, what was the emergency?". He's not stupid, he knows she's not in danger now that he's here. But he wants answers. I don't know that I've ever seen him this confrontational with anyone, well anyone but me. The entire time I’m staring her down as she sits in the armchair opposite the two of us. My keys are in my pocket and my car's right outside. I could just jump up and make a break for it. Escape.

"You know what Doc, you won't believe it but I'm not actually the one with the emergency" she takes a beat, and I'm starting to think that I might understand why people murder other people after all these years, "Y/N has something urgent she needs to talk to you about" she's silent for another moment, and she almost looks giddy, "Actually Spencer, you might already know a little something about the matter already, now that I think about it" she smirks, and it's pure joy.

My keys are in my hand ready to bolt when the doorbell chimes again. "Oh, that'll actually be the pizza this time, if you two will excuse me" she hops up out of the armchair and races to the door, leaving the two of us alone in a horrible silence. The tension is almost too much, I want to speak but I really have no idea what to say, or how to even start saying it. But he starts.

"Y/N what's going on, I feel like I'm out of the loop here? What am I missing?" he asks, and there's something uncharacteristically genuine about the way he says it, but he can't turn to look at me as he speaks. I almost want to let my guard down and just have a conversation but I can’t force myself to do it. "Shut up Reid." is all I mutter, folding my arms across my chest.

He turns sharply on the sofa to face me. "Hey Y/N. Believe it or not I'm about as happy as you with whatever kind of Parent Trap situation Garcia's got going on here. But from what I'm picking up on you've got a problem and I'm supposed to be able to help with it. So do you want to tell me what's going on or not? I can just go?" I can see that there's an anger bubbling right below the surface, threatening to burst. I know I shouldn't but I let him stew in silence for a little too long and he jumps up off the sofa.

"Y'know what, typical" he mutters, rolling his eyes as he says it, "this is all about you." he throws his bag over his shoulders and begins to walk towards the door. Something in me just snaps.

"All about me?! Are you fucking kidding? I've been tip-toeing around you for years, ever since I joined this damn unit!" I shout as Garcia comes back into the room, pizza box and plates in her hands.

"So, who's hungry?" Garcia asks, trying to break the tension, or pretending there's no tension at all. Reid shakes his head in disbelief and rubs his temple before he speaks again, "Actually I was just gonna head out" he gestures to the door, "I'm clearly not wanted here so I'm gonna leave you guys to it." Spencer makes a move to leave but Garcia grabs the strap of his shoulder bag, yanking him back ever so slightly before he really has the chance to escape.

"You are going absolutely nowhere kid" She points back to the sofa, "get back there" she glances to me, staring with far too much intensity. "You too, sit." Her voice is more stern than I've ever heard it, even while we were on a case. I can't help but obey her command and I sit back down on the sofa in silence. Followed by Reid, clearly processing the same uneasy feeling of a serious Penelope.

She sits opposite the two of us again. "Y/N, Spencer, I love the two of you with all of my heart, albeit separately, and I would die for either one of you. But you've got to chill the hell out!" she says it like she's had it bottled up forever. The tension that releases from her as she says it looks euphoric.

She opens up the pizza box and lays it on the coffee table and takes out a slice for herself. Taking a bite she leaves the two of us in stunned silence. Once she finishes the mouthful she turns to me specifically, "Y/N you tell him, or I will." dead serious. And the feeling in my belly is like I've just fallen down an elevator shaft.

My stomach is in knots as I turn to Spencer on the sofa next to me. His face is puzzled and I think I might be able to make out pure terror in his expression. I don't know that I've ever been looked at like this before and my stomach screws up tighter. I have to take a deep breath and I can't believe I'm about to say it. "Fuck it" I have to take another breath almost immediately so I just have to force the rest out, "I don't know if you heard the call I was on while we were in the elevator earlier?" I look up to gauge his reaction and I can see his face relax, and worse than that, one corner of his mouth lifts into a sort of smile. It's a look of pure smug satisfaction and I think I might scream. I have to close my eyes because I really don't think I can look at that face as I say the next part.

"My sister is getting married in a few months and my Mom's been on my ass to find a date for the wedding and she keeps trying to set me up with these losers, so I fucking panicked, and I told her you were my date." by the time the sentence is out my eyes have screwed up so tight it feels like I have to pry them open.

He sits in silence for too long. Thinking, maybe?

"So I'm the boy who teases you then?" he grins. So he did hear. And he did laugh. He looks far too self satisfied. Now he knows he's right. He knows I've talked to my Mom about him, that he's gotten in my head. I can tell from his smile that he's savoring the moment. Mostly because I can't slap the smug smile off his face I drop my head into my hands. In an effort to disappear I guess.

"So," he says, taking a moment, "is that all you wanted to say then?" he asks, lighthearted and obnoxious, back to his usual self. I snap back to reality, shooting my head back up.

"What do you mean is that all?" I throw back genuinely shocked,

"Is that all you had to say Y/N? Can I go now? It's a long bus ride home y'know" he smirks but makes no effort to move. He can't possibly be making me do this.

"Well no, obviously!" I stutter, "I mean, are you, will you, uh?" I can't bring myself to say it out loud. He leans in on the sofa looking directly at me, refusing to break eye contact.

"Did you have something you wanted to ask me Y/N?" I just want to smack that fucking look off his face,

"Fuck you Spencer Reid" I almost whisper under my breath, but Garcia snaps me back to reality.

"Hey!" she looks at me, stern again, "Ask him." it's not a question, or a suggestion, it's a command.

"Fine okay" I scrunch my eyes up again, "Will you come to my sisters wedding with me as my fake boyfriend?" I curl up into myself as I say it, I can almost feel the bile rising up from my stomach. Like I'm having a biological reaction to the whole thing.

Reid crosses his arms and sinks back on the sofa, like he's performing the act of thinking. He's considering my offer to make me squirm.

When he finally speaks he says "Well I would Y/N, but I really fail to see what's in it for me" he's after getting cocky now.

Garcia pipes up, excited, "Oh, Oh! I know! I have an idea!" she interjects, "Spencer remember how a while ago, back after your apartment flooded you were all all worried about your antique books and prints and stuff?" he nods, "Well Y/N could digitize the collection for you as a back up? I know you're a technophobe? C'mon Y/N, you know you could do that no sweat, and it would take you a lifetime alone Spencer?" I really don't want to admit it but she's right. Even I knew Reid was adverse to any technology that wasn't vital, but it was your specialty. And maybe that was a good trade off, a job like that would be near impossible for him to pull off without help. I take a glance over at Reid and he seems to have had the same train of thought as me. He lets out an exaggerated sigh and relaxes his posture.

"Fine, I guess that's a fair trade. I'm in." he resigns and I almost can't believe it. I'm barely processing the whole conversation as he sticks his hand out to me, I'm confused for a second before I grab it and shake it firmly. Condemning myself to whatever's about to happen. And it's not the time to be thinking about it but maybe this is the first time Spencer and I have ever touched? But I shove that thought away.

Garcia's positively beaming and she's not even trying to hide it. "Now it's like you're both in a Sandra Bullock movie, oh, but you're Hugh Grant maybe?" she points to Reid.

"Don't push it" I shoot in her direction, taking a slice of pizza, now that my anxiety stomach has sort of passed.

Once the pizza's been eaten in near completely awkward silence Spencer stands up off the sofa. His unsure demeanor has returned and he looks nervous. "I actually should get going this time" he says but Garcia pipes up to protest,

"No, it's not even late!"

"It takes me a while to get back home, thank you though Pen. For... this?" he gestures to the whole living room, "Night" he waves. He's almost made it to the door before I stand up out of my seat. I'm not really sure what comes over me, maybe it's gratitude, maybe it's guilt, or maybe I'm just exhausted.

"Wait Spencer. Let me give you a ride home?" I ask and it's like it's not even me saying it .

"Thanks, but I think I can make it home just fine" he dismisses, and there’s an antagonizing tone in his voice that snaps me right back to our usual rapport.

"I'm trying to do a nice thing here, fuck! Just let me do something nice!" I snap, and he throws his arms up in surrender.

"Fine alright, if it'll make you feel better"

"Fuck you Reid" I mutter under my breath and I sort of hope that he does hear me really. If he's gonna be hostile about this I can be too. I give Garcia a hug goodbye but I'm going to scold her for this whole thing later.

----

I lead the way outside and climb into my car, Spencer hops into the passenger seat and it feels as strange as always to be alone with him. Especially because it's not an accident, and it's not in work. Maybe this was a horrible idea. He seems like he's unwilling to break the silence, so I just get it over with.

"Where the hell do you live man? I'm gonna need directions." I say, as deadpan as I can muster, which probably isn't all that intimidating.

"Sorry, yeah, so you're gonna want to turn on the ignition" he teases. I definitely wasn't intimidating enough.

"Don't push it" I say, turning to give him a cruel stare, he just reacts with a smirk, that same one from the elevator earlier.

"Oh, I'm pushing it?" he asks, feigning disbelief

"I'll kick you out of this damn car" is all I can think to say. He barely responds, he just lets out a soft chuckle. I want to ask 'what's so funny' but he speaks before I can get the words out.

"I can't believe you talk to your Mom about me" he continues to laugh. That's enough.

"You know what Reid, of course I have! I work with actual murderers on a daily basis and somehow you've been the only real source of friction in my life since I joined the BAU!" He stops giggling a little, but not entirely, he looks like he's making an effort to contain himself.

"I'm sorry. I guess I just never knew I got to you like that" he still finds the whole thing amusing, but I sure as hell don't.

"Directions, now" I demand, looking straight out the front windshield.

"Fine, keep going straight on this road for a while and I'll tell you when to turn" he says, finally playing nice.

The two of us drive silently for most of the journey, the radio playing softly in the background. Eventually we arrive outside his building, and it's nicer than I thought it would be. But I have no idea what I was really basing that on. For some reason it hadn't occurred to me that Dr. Reid lived in an actual home, I had pictured him sleeping upside down in a cave maybe, or in a cryogenic chamber with all the other life-like genius robots.

"So," he says, breaking the silence, "When is this wedding?"

"4 months from now, in and around" I respond, matter of factly. Spencer nods, taking it in.

"Alright, so I've got 4 months, in and around, to learn enough to convincingly pass as your loving boyfriend. Doesn't sound so difficult." he jokes, his tone harsh and sarcastic.

"Look Spencer, I know this is insane and honestly kind of stupid. But in all seriousness, you can back out right now if you're not on board with whatever this is. I'm telling you this is the last exit ramp." I try to say it with sincerity, giving him a genuine out if he's not comfortable with the weird set-up that Penelope pulled on us both. He thinks on it for a moment and shakes his head.

"So how are we gonna do this?" he asks, and I really thought he was going to back out. So I don't have an actual answer.

"Well, I uh, I haven't really given a plan much thought. How about I come over and start working on some of the stuff you want digitized like Garcia mentioned and I can use the time to give you the footnotes on my life?" I suggest, at least that would make it easier to knock things out all at once. Rather than having to spend even more of my free time with Reid than necessary. He looks content with the improvised plan.

"Alright, sounds good." he undoes his seatbelt and opens the door to hop out of the car before turning back to me, "Are you coming inside or what?"

— —

Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds smut #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine #Matthew Gray Gubler #matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler x reader #spencer reid x y/n #dr spencer reid #dr spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid imagine #dr spencer reid angst #mgg #mgg imagine #mgg smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #dr reid #enemies to lovers #fake dating au

[getitinbusan]

I've Got A Coupon (18+) 

Part 2

Namjoon: A Massage with a Happy Ending

Warnings: 18+ consensual sexual poly relationships. Always swearing, Safe sex is implied. Don't read smut if you can't handle the 🍆💦

Words: 1650

Valentine’s Day, what do you give 7 men who already have everything?

Sitting down, you create a series of Love Coupons and place them in a bowl…

Erotic movie night

Massage with a happy ending

lap dance

Voyeur, look but don’t touch!

Naked Chef, dining al fresco

Trip to the sex shop

Location of your choice!

Calling them to the kitchen they each take a turn picking their present.

Series Masterlist

6:30 am.

Joon was an early riser. Knocking lightly you were hoping he was still asleep.

No answer. Trying to silently open the door you slipped inside holding the handle so it wouldn't tip him off with the click. Loud snoring came from across the room and you could just make out his outline from the rising sun filtering through his curtains.

Tiptoeing closer you dropped your robe. Picking up the fluffy white duvet you slid underneath. God he was warm. He stirred with a sigh and moved closer, his arms wrapping around you instinctively. Namjoon was comfort. His peaceful presence could have easily lulled you into slumber if it weren't for your mission. 

"Joonie," you whispered. "Hey, wake up." 

His dimples popped as he groggily smiled. "Good morning. It's so early." 

"I wanted to make sure you started the day off right." 

Pulling the last envelope from the pocket of your robe you laid it on his chest. 

"Massage with a happy ending."  His cheeks turned red. 

"I think you deserve to be taken care of Joon, will you let me do that for you?" 

"I'm a little afraid I'm going to get too used to this…" He moved his body closer, hands hovering over your stomach. His fingertips, not sure of which way to travel, skimmed over your skin giving you goosebumps from the delicate touch. 

"What would be so wrong with that?" Your lips lingered on his. 

"I want you too badly to think of any excuses right now." 

"Good, lets start." 

Jumping out of the bed you threw your robe back on and retrieved your pile of equipment waiting in the hallway. 

"You really went all out."

He seemed surprised as you set up the table. 

"No half measures Namjoon. Now get that gorgeous ass over here." 

Pulling the sheet off the bed he wrapped himself up. 

"You know what a happy ending is right? You're just going to have to take that off in 4 feet." 

He was flustered, always so shy in his gentlemanly way. Closing the gap he abandoned his modesty beside the table. He was hard as a rock already standing straight out red and excited. 

"Should I lay on my back?" 

Pulling the cover from the table you raised your eyebrows at him suggestively. "That's totally up to you, this is a milking table." 

Never had a jaw dropped further and more dramatically than his. 

He needed encouragement. Walking over to him you let your fingers slide down his chest, "Why don't you lay down on your front and I'll just give you a massage for a bit. You won't even see me until you're ready, okay?" 

His large hands reached out and cradled your face. "It's not that I don't want to look at you. You're so fucking beautiful, I'm just a shy idiot." 

"We can work on that." You couldn't help but smile at him, "now hop on up here." 

He got on the table and lay face down.  

"We're gonna ease into this okay?" 

He nodded. 

Digging through your bag you brought out the bottle of massage oil. "This may be a little cold, are you ready?" 

Squeezing the oil in a stream down his back he squirmed at the sensation. You could have been nice and warmed it, but you liked the idea of the cold liquid making his nipples hard. 

"You've been working out huh?" You began sliding your hands over his skin. "You're a lot bigger than when we last hooked up." 

You could feel him flexing his triceps under your fingers. “It suits you.” 

Working the oil over his entire backside you wanted to up the stakes. "Is it okay if I get on top of you? It's better leverage to work out those knots." 

"umhum," he mumbled face down into the pillow. 

Grabbing the oil you quickly drizzled it down your front before climbing on. Straddling his back you rubbed yourself just above the swell of his ass. He moaned at the feeling of your pussy sliding down his skin. 

"How's that feel?" 

"So, so good Y/N."

Laying flat against him you placed a kiss between his shoulder blades and pressed your breasts into his back. Your arms smoothed down over his as you rocked yourself against his muscle. 

"Joon, I know this is for you but I'm so horny." You kissed the back of his neck, "Do you mind if I get myself off on you?" 

"Fuck baby girl, rub your pussy wherever you need it." 

Raising yourself, the mirror was in front of you. You could see the reflection of his cock hanging through the milking hole, a small slow dripping string of precum dangling from the tip.   

"If you're comfortable you should lift your head up and watch, there's a great view." 

As you rubbed yourself over his swell your hands kneaded his back muscles. He stared at you, watching you get off on him. "Fuck you've got pretty tits. I wanna feel them on my back." 

Letting your breasts hang your nipples dragged over his lubed skin. The sensation of the oil and the rubbing was too much, you couldn't help but moan the closer you got to your high. 

"That's it baby, cum all over me, make me all sticky." 

The table was rocking precariously under your enthusiasm and his cock was swinging back and forth through the glory hole.

"Joonie I'm so close." 

He flexed his glutes and with a few more passes your clit was satisfied. 

Collapsing for a second you lay heavy on top of him trying to catch your breath. "Thank you," you mustered. 

"Don't thank me, you did all the work." 

Lifting yourself to get off of him, sticky cum threads pulled between you. "That's so hot." He sat to turn himself and couldn't resist running his finger through it and sticking it in his mouth. 

"Let's do you now, are you ready for your turn?" 

He was in a daze, with a half smile and popped dimple, he could only nod. 

Grabbing some pillows off the bed you made your way under the table. Something about his penis just hanging there waiting, made it seem so much more suckable. 

"So gorgeous Joon." You licked his tip, teasing it as another ooze of precum dripped in anticipation. "I'm going to milk every drop out of you Daddy."

His moan of approval was loud. 

"Do you like that? Do you want more?" 

"Suck me please I want it so bad." He begged as you continued to play with the the tip, squirming under the torturous build up. "Take it all like you did last time.” 

"Do you think about that? Think about me sucking and fucking you in the practice room?" 

"Every day since." His breathing was heavy. 

"Do you get off  thinking about my cunt wrapped around your cock?" 

You gave him a big deep suck, you could picture his face scrunched up in pleasure and it made you want to cum again. 

"I can't stop. Whenever you bend down I can see your pretty tits in your low cut shirt. Such a bad girl never wearing a bra. I've rubbed myself raw just thinking about you."

"I put on that show just for you. When I catch you looking, I always think about your mouth on me." 

You rewarded his new inhibition with positive reinforcement. Ringing your hand around his base tightly you took him into your throat. 

"Next time you need to get off I want you to tell me. Promise you’ll use me instead of your hand, that you'll fuck my cunt open and fill me with your cum." 

He was making so much noise if anyone was walking buy they'd probably think he was recording. 

"Tell me, tell me you promise."

You were whiny, feeling the need to cum again your pussy was pulsing. Something about bringing Joon, who was so reluctant, to the point of surrender was the ultimate turn on. 

"Yeah, I promise...I promise...Fuck I'm close." 

Removing your mouth you slid your hand up and down his shaft pumping a few times before letting go. Sitting for a minute, not touching him, He was distanced from his impending orgasm. 

Legs swung over the table, he reached for your hand pulling you up and onto your feet. “You should be careful what you beg for, it might be more than you can handle.” 

He walked you backwards until your legs hit the bed. "No more fucking around."

You grinned, achievement unlocked. 

Kneeling in front of you he picked up your knees until they were bent and pushed them wide open. Staring down at your pink heat he slid two fingers inside of you. Moaning as he curled them you were left disappointed when he pulled them back out. 

"Look how excited you are." 

He held them up and showed you the sticky display before rubbing the wetness all over this cock. Pumping twice to make sure he was coated his dick hung waiting in limbo until he plunged himself inside you. The loud moan that followed was from the pure satisfaction of being stretched so completely by his girth. 

His thrusts were slow and deep, bottoming out, holding and then dragging back out against your clenching walls. "Your little pussy likes that huh?" He rammed back in. "Next time you pass me in the hallway this is what I want you to think about." 

"Fuck, Namjoon you're so fucking good. Why are you so god damn reserved? We could have been doing this for months."

He lowered himself, his body heavy on yours, his fingers gripping your hair. The slight pain with the immense pleasure shot white lightning through you. He pumped harder as you clenched and came all over his cock until he too found his release shooting his hot cum deep inside you. 

Forehead to forehead he kissed your lips. 

"Happy ending indeed." 

Part 3: Hobi - Lap dance

#BTS smut #namjoon smut #bts #namjoon #bts poly #studio sessions #noonasinnetwork

[thatonecitykid]

I bet on Losing

Hey everyone! Sorry this is so sad.. was already crying so might as well make everyone else cry.This takes place after Endgame but during the same time as Far From Home. Listen to "I Bet on Losing Dogs" by Mitski for the full experience. Word Count: 2517. Have fun angels :)

Peter had finally left for his class trip, Pepper and Morgan had gone to spend their summer in Malibu, the remaining avengers were either in space or had completely disappeared from your life. Here you were after five years of your life had evaporated, and after all this time you had to play your fathers role for all the remaining avengers. You hadn't had the opportunity to cry when you first learned about what had happened. You couldn't cry at the funeral, not because you did not want to, but because you felt as if your father wouldn't want to see it. No one wanted to leave you alone, but after months of trying to dig some type of emotion out of you they had assumed that the death and slow disappearance of your makeshift avenger family had unaffected you.

You finally had the opportunity to exist alone. You had also finally mustered up the strength to visit secluded cabin your father had lived in for the last five years of his life. Although you had been given the keys immediately after the funeral, something about visiting the area made you feel uneasy. Not necessarily creeped out but just as if you did not belong, after all it was something your father invested in after you had already blipped away for several months.

You drove up to the cabin alone, slowly unlocking the door as if to not start or whoever may be inside. Before even entering the cabin, it looks clean, you assume that Pepper has had people cleaning constantly to maintain the cabin. It made sense, it was something she's cherished. You stepped into the cabin slowly and began to look around. The walls were lined with framed pictures of Morgan, family pictures of Pepper, your dad, and Morgan, and random posters and vintage albums. Although you were not the one to complain about it, having no evidence of your existence in the main areas of the home caused your heart dropped. As you wandered through the kitchen and the main family room, there is no evidence of Tony's life prior to the blip, just a somewhat normal family of three.

You decide to wander to the basement area, leaving the office and bedroom spaces upstairs for later. There was a large sitting area that you assumed they watched movies in. There was also a playroom painted pink featuring all sorts of gadgets very similar to those you grew up with that Tony had made for you. Towards the back hall of the basement, it was a glass door to your father's workshop area. You open the door gently and made your way in.

Despite looking like somewhat of a mess, you knew that behind the madness there was a method. You could tell that although your dad left in a hurry, things were placed in specific spots very similarly to how he did in every other one of his workshops. You walked towards his swiveling chair, noticing a metal box with a button on the worktable. You press the button and jump back as a life-size hologram of your father appeared in the room. He began

"Hi Pepper. My love, my muse, my boss. If you are listening to this then I did the one thing you have always told me not to do. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all the worry I've put you through, and I am sorry for taking myself away from you. I was a gift wasn't I. You've already seen another version of this message, but it never hurts to see your face again my darling."

The tears in your eyes begin to form, not because you had not expected to see your father. At this point you had already seen the message he had left after the funeral; It was only really meant for Pepper and Morgan, never addressing you.. At the funeral you refused to enter the cabin but as you watched the message while standing outside, Happy looked over at you with remorse but you kept a straight face again. Who were you to complain at your dead dad's funeral? Yet this message radiated the same energy.

As the second portion of the message began to play tears began to fall faster. It almost feels like an out of body, sure your dad had taken up different kids during your time growing up, but this message made you feel as If you had been completely replaced. Although it felt like a dumb theory there was no evidence as to your existence prior to Morgan.

"Hello my little scientist. How's my favorite person. Daddy is really sorry I can't be there right now. Be a trooper and hug you mom for me real quick. Now you must be surprised because I'm supposed to be the strongest dad in the world but let me tell you kid, sometimes crazy things happen when put on the ironman helmet. My little minion I love you 3000. My love for you is infinite. You have been and will forever be daddy's best friend."

Here you were crying over a child who had also lost her father, filled with jealousy over the fact that you father had chosen her and failed to consider your return but had prepared for Peter's return, still had projects waiting for Harley, and had in fact set up a stable plan for Morgan's future. At this point you were sobbing, what had all felt like a bad nightmare and jumping to conclusions had started to feel way too real. This emotion was even stronger than when you watched footage from your father suit as the snap happened, this emotion felt like a stab in the back.

Maybe he never loved me.

You tried to collect yourself but were still sobbing when the holographic figure of you father disappeared. You might as well finish the house tour before leaving. The upstairs portion of the house featured Tony and Pepper's room, Morgan's room and two other doors. The main bedroom was tidy and organized, with a closet full of clothes that both Pepper and your dad had left. You walked into Morgan's room and did a quick look around, not wanting to invade child space. Returning to the hallway you opened the door to your father's office. Inside there was a rather simple with a desk, a leather chair, and two matching chairs. The plants in the room were growing well, meaning someone still came to water them. There were a few pictures on the wall, including Peter's Stark internship picture, and a random picture you took of the original Avengers after their first New York battle. On the desk there was another metal box similar to that in the workpace. You argued whether or not you wanted to potentially break your heart more before giving in, siting in the leather seat and pressing the button.

A slim beam of light scanned over your face, confirming your identity, and the box began to play. To say you were shocked is an understatement, as your father's hologram appeared across the desk sitting in one of the matching chairs.

"Hello Munchkin. If you've found this box, then I just going to have to accept that I've failed you. You've been gone for five years and regret every moment leading up to when you snapped away. You really did want to come to space with me, and honestly you would have been helpful, but I don't think I could see you Blip away and have the will to continue. That being said because I am already admitting I was wrong, I should not have had your suit take you to the bunker room, where you eventually snapped away alone. I regret that decision y constantly. On another note, I'm sorry I didn't hug you as soon as you got back, I clearly I cannot really hug anyone."

You had finally given up on holding in their tears. You didn't have to be strong in front of your dad. He had always held you when you cried and this time he couldn't. You tried to wrap your arms around yourself, but nothing felt the same.

"I hope you are crying, because if I'm crying alone during this part, I'll be embarrassed, his image continued as it stood up and leaned against the back of the chair. Munch I know you've probably walked around this house and have found no evidence of yourself. You've probably beat yourself up about how much I love Morgan, but think about it. The amount of time I've spent these last 5 years essentially idolizing you would not have been good for her to experience. "

You rose quickly from the chair. Not even one damn picture?

"Now I know you're wondering not even a single picture. Pick up the projector box and follow me ."

You did as the digital version of your father told you and followed it back into the hallway.

"Put the box down and put your hand on the center of the door. "

This activated a scanner which opened up the door to the room. As you walked in you recognized that this was an exact replica of your room back in the Malibu house. You were still a kid when the original house was blown to pieces but somehow everything was exactly as you remembered it. As you walked further into the room you noticed the large screens, placed like picture frames, which played videos and pictures of you and your dad throughout the years.

Your father walked towards the center of the room, bounded by how far the projector was.

"You see kid, me and you have somewhat the same grieving styles. I have a feeling you didn't cry at the funeral. I have a feeling you haven't cried, at least in a way that someone else could have noticed. You take after me in that sense."

The hologram started to sniffle, your dad had actually started crying when recording this. You really wanted to hug him, the reality of his death hurt even more. You had finally allowed yourself to start grieving.

"Look, I know you used to listen to the song about betting on losing dogs when you wanted to cry, but that does not apply to you at all. You may have gotten a more complicated stick of life, but I can tell ya, this does not need to be your villain origin story. From the first day I took you home I could tell you were a fighter, but I need you to feel as if its ok to cry. I've spent hours on this floor in shambles wishing you were here. The small things that Morgan does that remind me of you throw me into sadness pools constantly. You are my motivating force. I really hope you allow yourself to cry about it so that you can continue in life. I don't think I can stand in this room for any longer before I cannot speak at all, so please take the projector back to my office. "

As you lifted the projector you thought about how much this must have hurt your father to record. Maybe he didn't want anyone to encounter this box except for you. As you placed the box on the desk, you sat back into the leather chair as your father's holograph sat across from you.

"On a different note, you are probably wondering why I seemed to set up a game plan for everyone but you. With Morgan I just made sure she had a comfortable, who am I kidding, lavish funding behind her. I can't dictate what a five-year-old should do. For Harley you know that I've always looked out for him, a position in Stark industries honestly should not have surprised you. Peter is what I feel most conflicted about. I'm not setting him up to become the next Ironman, I'm setting him up to become the greatest version of Spiderman he can be. Well, I know the media is probably going to take it and run having known that Spiderman and Ironman we're friends at some point, but I'm really giving you the biggest responsibility. I don't expect you to live in my shadow, I want you to outgrow it. I think you might be surprised to see everything that I left you, besides Stark industries itself. That's a conversation for another day."

"I know I've been speaking for quite a while, but my baby, my baby yes I called you that. I know how much this has all affected you, and I'm sorry, I am completely sorry and do take full fault for it all. But now because we cannot change the past, let's focus on the present. I want you to know that I loved you with my entire being. I'm not sure how to emphasize this enough but I do want you to know you were cared for, you were loved, and you were thought about for every minute. If you don't get to see this message, and I'm already gone, that means this message will never have to play for anyone. Either I found you and I've given you a new message, or I'm rolling in my grave. Either way my darling I cannot emphasize how much I love you. I do hope for the best for. Before I have to go, I want to see you smile. Sure, I can't physically see it right now, but I can imagine it."

As the recording choked out that last sentence, you flashed a weak smile. A face sticky with all the tears that you have been crying.

Now I know you need to get back home, but when you get back to the city, stop by the shawarma place and get something to eat. you gotta eat Darling. Also don't act like you don't like Peter, you two idiots keep pushing each other away in cannot take it. Now I'm gonna say goodbye mini me. Watch over Pepper and Morgan for me, okay? I love you."

You took one final sweep of the house before heading back to your car. You had cried so much that your eyes physical hurt. You almost felt a sense of comfort having finally released some of the pent-up emotion. As you drove towards the city and towards the Shawarma place you almost felt kind of sad, knowing that all of your friends were in a foreign country. Yet you still felt as if your best friend, your Dad was watching over you. And in all reality that felt as if it was the only thing that mattered.

#stark reader #stark!reader #irondad #tony stark x reader #peter parker #peter parker x stark!reader

[geniusgub]

north//chapter twenty

genre: fluff, angst

warnings: mentions of canonical violence and deaths, lmk if I missed anything

word count: 4k

summary: Spencer is getting reacquainted with life outside of prison, and he gets a not-so-great phone call.

pairing: season twelve spencer reid x oc

please remember to comment, like, and reblog!!

AMELIA

Spencer and I managed to sleep through the entire day and the majority of the night. After all, the previous day was probably one of the most eventful of my entire life and it left me absolutely exhausted. I can't quite speak for Spencer because I'm sure he's had much longer days than yesterday, especially when he has been away for cases, but it was still stressful and way too long for both of us.

I wake up before Spencer as the sun starts to rise the next day, the sunlight pouring in through the opened window on the other side of the room. Before I even consider getting out of bed or looking at my phone, I look to my side to check on Spencer. He's sleeping soundly, his cheek pressed against his pillow and his hand on my side of the bed, no longer wrapped around mine. He looks absolutely angelic at this moment, his mouth hanging open and his body completely relaxed.

I promised Spencer that I'd be here for him and that I wouldn't leave the bed without him. I've never broken a promise to him before and I don't plan on starting now. So, moving as little as possible so I don't disturb him, I sit up against the headboard, reaching into my bedside table for my journal. I pop open the top and start furiously scribbling down everything I can remember from the last two or so days and how I feel about it, how excited I am to have Spencer home again, and how terrified I am to have Spencer home again.

I barely even notice it when Spencer starts squirming beside me, and my attention is only taken away from my journal when his hand grabs onto my thigh. I smile down at his suddenly tiny figure, finding that he's already looking up at me with a tired gaze.

"Good morning, love," I chirp, tossing my journal onto the floor and sinking back under the duvet in an attempt to absorb some of his radiating body heat. Since he already touched me and he's seemingly feeling okay in the morning sun, I let my hand stray and trail through his flat curls. "Did you sleep well? You didn't wake me up."

Spencer sucks his lips between his teeth, shrugging softly. "I woke up a few times. I just--" he wiggles his hips as he tries to come up with an excuse, "I didn't need to wake you up. I didn't need to bother you. Having you here was enough."

I bring my hand to the back of Spencer's neck, huffing with some slight annoyance, "You're not a bother. You never have and you never will be," Spencer just shrugs dismissively in response, and reaches his hands up to rub his eyes. Spencer has never been good at these kinds of conversations and I imagine he's far too tired to entertain a lecture about how important he is. So I make a mental note to bring this topic back up as I sit up and stretch. "Alright, well, do you want some breakfast? I can make us something to eat."

"Yeah, sure," he nods, ducking away from my grasp and quickly sliding out of bed, putting on a pair of shoes I hadn't realized he set up on his side of the bed.

I reach for a pair of sweatpants but when I look up to find Spencer frozen in his spot, staring at the bed, I drop the pants and sit up on my knees. The sheets are rustled and the duvet is in a heap under me, and he's very fixated on this. His arms are glued to his side but his fingers are twitching like he's dying to use them.

"Spence? Everything okay?" I ask gently, and like the other instances where he gets lost in a daydream, he doesn't react to me. "Spencer?" I call again in hopes of getting some sort of response. But his fingers just twitch and he takes a long, frustrated breath. "Talk to me," I don't know if pressing the issue will help, but if I don't at least try to get him to talk, then I'll never figure out what his issue is. "I just wanna help you, but I can't do that if you don't talk to me."

Spencer quickly covers his face with his hands, his breathing becoming labored and heavy, chest heaving. "The bed. It's the bed. It's-- I need-- it's the bed."

It looks like a bed to me. It's a messy bed, sure, but it's just a bed to me. I pause for a second to try to get my brain to match Spencer's. I try to see what he is seeing, but all I see is a bed that we just used for its intended purpose. It just needs to be made, that's all. I can't see into Spencer's brain so I have to resort to asking. "What about the bed?"

"I--" he drops his hands, balling them up into fists again, "The bed is supposed to be made. I need to make the bed. It needs to be made or else they're gonna come and I'll get in trouble. It-- the-- the bed needs to be made."

Oh, this poor baby. My heart aches for him. Not all of him made it out of that prison cell. Part of him is still there. He's not here with me. He didn't really come home.

"Spencer, you're not gonna get in trouble here. It's just me. It's just Lia," My voice shakes as I try to speak, my hands pressed to my cheeks to continuously wipe the tears that start to fall. "I'm never gonna yell at you or hurt you or get mad because you didn't make your bed. Dove, you can make the bed if you want to, but you don't have to. It's okay. I'm not gonna be mad. You won't get in trouble. It's just me."

Spencer stares at me, his eyes wide and his lips parted. His hands aren't twitching anymore but they're still reaching towards the bed. He doesn't say anything, he just stares at me in bewilderment.

I compose myself with a deep breath, wiping my cheeks quickly and climbing off the bed. "Dove, make the bed, please. I want you to do anything that makes you feel better. But if you choose not to, I'm not gonna be mad," I step towards Spencer, holding my hands out in front of me and not expecting him to grab them. "I'm gonna go downstairs and I'm gonna start cooking, and you come down when you're ready, okay?"

I give Spencer one more attempt at a convincing smile before turning and going downstairs. My first stop is to the living room, and I pop the record into the player that Spencer had put on yesterday. If it did something to comfort him yesterday, hopefully it will do the same today. I grab both of our phones and start cooking breakfast.

I mix batter for waffles in a bowl as I check my notifications, sifting through a whole load of texts. My groupchat with my friends has a couple hundred texts, starting off with lots of questions and concerns about Spencer from yesterday, asking if he's okay, if he's home, wondering how happy we are. I have other texts from Wendy and Mike, asking the same types of questions that my friends did. I send some quick responses to all of them and let them know that we're home, we slept for a very long time, and that I'll contact them later with more updates.

Spencer's quiet footsteps approach and I turn to face him, breathing a sigh of relief when I find he's not so worked up anymore. "I hope waffles are okay."

Once I've closed the waffle maker and let it start cooking, I glance over my shoulder to ee what Spencer is doing. He's sitting gingerly at the island, placing his elbows on the granite and eyes darting around the room. Honestly, I don't even know why he sat there. He absolutely hated sitting there and eating yesterday, and it made him have some sort of flashback. Maybe it's because he started off the morning with the prison-bed situation, and now the natural order of events in the day is to be transported right to prison-breakfast.

"Hey, bub, you don't have to sit at the table," I say casually, trying not to bring too much attention to it. "You didn't like that yesterday. But you seemed better when we sat on the floor so we can do that again, or we can go on the couch or the balcony." I don't even have time to see his reaction before the waffle maker beeps, and I have to whip around to pull the waffle out.

I can hear Spencer shuffling behind me, and then I feel his shoulder brushing against my leg as he slides down to the floor beside me. I put the waffle onto the plate and hand it down to him, then open the drawer above his head to grab a fork.

"Thank you," Spencer mumbles, catching my free hand in his and pressing his lips to the back of my hand. It's clearly a thank you for more than just handing him a fork, or making him breakfast, or sleeping with him, or showering with him, or anything of that. It's a thank you for being so patient with him, but I couldn't fathom not being there for him in the way he needs. I want to tell him that he doesn't need to thank me, but in his mind, it is something he needs to do, so I decide to let it happen for a while before I start to refuse his thanks.

The next week functions almost identical to this. Spencer is quiet, keeping to himself and eating his meals on the floor and making the bed perfectly in the morning, cleaning the bedroom floor every night, wearing a tee shirt to bed. I get just a few glimpses of the man he was, but not many.

Emily had called later that day to let Spencer know that the entire BAU was placed on a mandatory six week leave, but also that he had to be evaluated for reinstatement. A whole slew of people have to review Spencer's actions, have to interview him, have to test him to see if he's fit to return to work, and he didn't take this news well. He didn't talk to me for a hours and just curled up on the floor of the bedroom, staring out the window with the drawn-back curtains. I tried, for so long, to get him to talk to me, but he didn't budge and he didn't even look at me. So I just grabbed whatever book was inside his go-bag from the last case he went on and sat beside him, reading aloud in an attempt to bring him back down to earth. And when he did, he went off to shower and then straight to bed.

Spencer's work is his life and there's few things he loves more than his work. I know that he would be lost without the BAU and that he would have absolutely no clue what to do with his life if he couldn't keep working there. So hearing that there's a chance that he may not be reinstated to the BAU is absolutely crushing.

On the other end of the spectrum, the prospect of Spencer not being reinstated isn't all bad to me. In his line of work, there are always going to be enemies. There's always going to be another Cat and another Lindsay. He's always going to have guns pointed at him and bombs blowing up beside him and people wanting to kill him. If he's not reinstated, I get to have him home every morning and night and I won't stare at the wall at lunch with Jenna, wondering if Spencer has just been shot or if he has a knife to his neck. I know that he would absolutely hate not being reinstated, but it would save me so much heartache.

That's an incredibly selfish thought, I know. I'm happy and willing to strip Spencer of one of the things that makes him happiest in his life just so I can sleep at night. But all I've wanted from the moment I met him is for him to be safe and to be happy and if he's not chasing serial killers, I know that he will at least be safe. Happy? I can't help but imagine he wouldn't be.

After a tense week at home, I convince Spencer to let me take him back to his apartment. He insists that he doesn't want for stay there and would rather stay with me, even though I said I would stay at his apartment with him, but I'm happy to let him keep with me. I just want him to be happy.

So I drove him over to his apartment, picked up most of his clothes and whatever else he was needing, and he rounds up an entire duffle bag full of books that I'm sure he would read in just one day. But we collect whatever he could possibly need and shove it in my car, then go straight back to my apartment. I'm starting to get a little stir crazy, being trapped in my apartment, but Spencer doesn't want to go out anywhere yet and the last thing on my mind is forcing him into things he's uncomfortable with.

"So what do you wanna do today?" I unzip the bag full of books and start making a few small piles against the wall, glancing over my shoulder at Spencer. He shrugs gently, too distracted with picking a record to properly respond to my question. Sighing, I return my attention to the books.

The record turns on and this time, I recognize it to be a record full of Christmas music. We've been listening to nothing but Taylor Swift, Frank Sinatra, and Christmas music this past week, and while that's my favorite music and I have no problem with it, it's odd. Spencer never really listened to that music, whether we were together or not. He always managed to convince me to put on some cello concerto that wound up being fifteen minutes long. I thought he would rather listen to that and not Christmas music when it's almost the summer, but I haven't questioned this yet.

"Could we," Spencer starts speaking after a moment, tearing my attention from the books, "maybe watch a movie?"

It's the first time he's suggested anything like that. Honestly, it's one of the first times he's suggested that we do anything. He's just been staying quiet and following me around like a puppy dog, watching me attempt to draw in a sketchbook or watching me cook or watching me do the laundry. He's stuck to my side, even if he hasn't been touching me much. So now that he's suggesting that we do something, I'm not about to pass up this development.

"Yeah, of course. You can choose whatever you want. I'll be over there when I'm done," Spencer nods and turns his back to me, and I pick up my pace in emptying the books from the duffle bag. I don't want to lose this momentum of him, maybe, feeling just a little bit better.

Once I've stacked all the books, I fold up the duffle bag nicely and put it in a place where it won't bother Spencer, and then head into the living room. He's sitting on the couch with a DVD case in his lap, and he holds it out to me when I approach. Always a technophobe, he never goes near the DVD player and lets me do it.

"Polar Express?" I raise my eyebrows, but that's as far as my questioning goes. I pop the DVD out of the case and put it into the player, then grab the remote and press play.

I settle onto the couch with my favorite plaid blanket, draping it over my lap. As the movie starts and the title screen shows, I feel cold. I'm completely covered and under my trusty blanket, but I'm cold. Absolutely freezing. I pull the blanket tighter around me and when my temperature doesn't shift, I quickly realize where the cold is coming from.

Spencer and I are a very physical couple. Despite his aversion to touch, he never seemed to have the problem when it came to me. Especially when we watched movies, we were always touching. Legs, hands, shoulders and heads, laps and heads. There was always a connection, but now there's none. I'm left on my own couch cushion, not sharing Spencer's cushion and continuously pushing closer and closer until we're squished together. A shiver runs down my spine.

We watch the movie in silence for a little while, all the way up until the three main characters are singing a song at the back of the train. And while they're singing, I feel Spencer reaching over, grabbing the edge of the blanket, tugging it closer to him. "You can come closer," he tells me, looking up at me through his lashes, fingers grasping the fuzz of the blanket.

Happy to comply with this request, I scoot closer to him until our legs are touching. I think that's enough for now, but then Spencer slings his arm over my legs and tugs me closer until my knees collapse over his legs and I'm laying my head on his chest. It's a position that I'm so familiar with and I've been dying to be in, but he hasn't been up for lately. My body warms up. The shivers stop.

I completely melt into his embrace, pressing my ear against his chest to listen for the steady beat of his heart as I wrap my arm around his stomach. I let my eyelids flutter closed and relax into him. The movie isn't important anymore, at least not to me.

///

SPENCER

///

Today is a good day, one of the first I've actually had since being home since my prison release. I thought that actually leaving Amelia's apartment would make me nervous, but returning home wasn't as horrible as it seemed like it would be. For once, I'm feeling pretty good. I'm even feeling well enough to watch a movie and cuddle with Amelia on the couch, just like we used to do. She still can't creep up behind me or touch me without showing me her hands first and I still can't eat at a table, but it's an improvement. Albeit a tiny one, but it's there nonetheless.

By the time the movie is coming to an end, Amelia has slid down to rest her head on my lap, her curls sprawled out and her hands pulled up to her chin. She looks ridiculously adorable like this, and even though it's a sight that I've seen many times and I've committed to memory, I wish I could sit and stare at her forever.

But that plan is foiled when my phone starts buzzing on the coffee table. My first instinct is to look down to check that Amelia is still sleeping, and all she does is scrunch up her nose a bit before relaxing. Adorable.

I grab a pillow from beside me and slide it under her head when I slip out from under her. Thankfully, she doesn't notice and she doesn't wake up. Pleased with this, I grab my phone and rush onto the balcony. I don't have time to check who it is before I answer. "Reid."

"Hey, Reid," Rossi's voice comes through the phone. "How's it going?"

"It's-" I ponder my answer for a moment, double-checking that the door is closed as I sink into one of Amelia's adirondack chairs, "um, it's a good day today."

"Good, I'm glad. And I'm glad you've got Amelia to look after you. You've got a good one there. She really cares about you," Rossi says, and his words prompt me to turn and peer into the window at her sleeping form, curled up on the couch and holding the blanket to her chest. "Where-- uh-- where is she right now?"

"She's sleeping right now. I'm on the balcony," Honestly, this is already some of the most talking I've done in the last week and I'm exhausted. I'd rather be talking to Amelia, but Rossi called me for a reason, plus I know that Amelia needs to get some sleep. "Did you need something?"

"Yeah. I'm afraid I may need to bring your day down a bit," Rossi sighs, and my heart drops down to my feet. "I feel horrible calling you now, after everything you went through and while the BAU is on leave, but you need to know the situation."

I furrow my eyebrows, balling my free hand into a fist, digging my nails into my palm to give the pain somewhere to go. "What situation?"

"Damian Kelsey's signature popped up on two bodies in LA."

I didn't think that I would have to face a day where Damian Kelsey's signature reappears. I admit that I have stayed late at work many times just to look at Damian's case file and rememorize the details and try to predict what his next murder would have been all while ignoring the chilling family photos that contain my girlfriend as a horribly abused child.

And this is the worst possible time for this to happen. I can barely go a day without flashing back to prison or almost yelling at my amazing and patient girlfriend. How can I possibly tack on dealing with her serial killer father's signature resurfacing, all while trying to keep it a secret from her? It's nearly impossible. I thought that I could just take these stupid six weeks off to spend time with Amelia and try to rest comfortably, but I guess that's not possible.

"I'm heading to LA as we speak. I'm getting on a plane right now. And while we both know what his signature coming up again could mean, the good thing is that these are male victims and they're not surrogates for Amelia. I know that's what you're worried about. The other good thing is that this is across the country and obviously nowhere near Virginia. So--"

"Spencer?" Amelia's sweet voice comes from the balcony doors, the blanket disregarded on the couch and her hair messy on the top of her head.

"Gotta go," I mumble, hanging up my phone and tossing it aside, not even waiting to say goodbye to my coworker.

Amelia steps onto the balcony, her bare feet silent as she approaches me slowly, rubbing her eyes like a small child. "Everything okay?"

I reach my hands out for her and she smiles, placing her hands in mine and slowly sinking onto my lap, resting her head on my chest, similar to the position we had been in before. Amelia runs a hand over my chest and it takes everything in me not to let out a sound akin to a cat purring.

I just hold her tightly in my arms, probably the tightest I have since I saw her for the first time in the parking lot of my correctional facility. Rossi swears that Damian Kelsey won't come after Amelia but I just hold her tighter, as if that will protect her from the horrors of the world. I have a lot of holding to make up for from when I was gone, and I suppose that time starts now.

TAGLIST

@babybloodstonebones @bxnnywriting @blameitonthenight21 @feralreid @anepiphany @reidscardigan @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @4x24 @whollytaciturn @thegingerfairchild @yasminwashere @shrimpyblog @anamelessfacelessnerd @wonderlandhatter @whxt-to-write @just-call-me-non @imagining-in-the-margins @boldlyvoid @homoose @gubler-me-up @thundergunexpresss @eideticmemory @andiebeaword

[reignstormz]

|ROMAN REIGNS & SASHA BANKS|

✨THE STORYLINE; SHORT STORY ✨

Bio; Since WWE may or may not give us the Roman and Sasha interaction some of us want, I decided to write a little short story of how I sort of envisioned it going. This story will have three parts to it, hopefully you guys like it enough so I'll continue it! Feedback would be great. I also got a little inspiration from @haharollins someone had asked her to write a quick storyline between them and she wrote down a lot of great ideas I loved. Also @moxley-leakee from the head cannons she write. :)

Cast; Roman Reigns/Sasha Banks/Jey Uso etc. Everyone who has basically been involved with them as of late and a little bit of last year.

Warnings; Reminder, this is just a made up storyline! It has a bit of a romantic angle to it as well but this is not to disrespect their spouses in anyway, this is just for fun. If you don't really care for them to have that type of interaction, then this isn't the type of story for you. No sexual content involved either, just a regular storyline between the two.

|PART ONE|

November 13, 2020

Survivor Series was slowly approaching. The faces of SmackDown knew what was coming their way; Roman would be facing Drew McIntyre, and Sasha would be facing Asuka. However, the sudden, yet "untouchable" thorn in Sasha's side had attacked her after successfully retaining her championship against Bayley. Carmella's eyes were on the title, and even though Sasha was aware after last week, she had no idea who else's eyes were on her.

Earlier tonight, Roman had an intense interaction with Drew. During that time, Jey had gotten involved, and entered himself in a match with him. Roman was furious, and after scolding Jey at the top of his lungs, he had trouble calming down for the rest of the night. He stayed in his private locker room for a minute before deciding to take a walk in the hallway on his own to think. The camera's were on him, watching his every move. Roman stared at the ground as he walked in deep thought until he came across the television that was on the wall, and the blue-haired woman had caught his attention.

Sasha wore a cheetah print body suit that had blue accents all over it, and it hugged her body like a glove. Her blue hair beautifully cascaded down her back, while the women's title sparkled on her shoulder. As she continued to gloat into the microphone, Roman couldn't help but smirk to himself. He crossed his arms and licked his lips, taking notice of how gorgeous she looked. Roman always had a soft spot of Sasha; He always admired how confident she was, and she was one hell of a woman to him. Sasha had it all, and she was not the same girl he had tag-teamed with four years ago. He never would've thought that there would be a day they would be champions at the same time, but he never complained. If he could have it his way, he would keep it this way; It wasn't like he was going to lose his title anytime soon, and neither was she. Roman knew he was the best of the best, including her. He believed in her.

All of a sudden, Bayley's theme had interuppted Sasha. When Sasha wasn't looking, out of nowhere, Carmella had turned her around and super-kicked her in the face. Roman's smirk fell from his face and a slightly angered expression appeared as Carmella continued to beat her down. Carmella stood tall against Sasha; The camera switched back onto him and Roman sighed, looking away from the TV briefly.

"And there's the Universal Champion--Wait, What is he doing?" Michael Cole confusingly questioned into his headset.

"I don't know, Cole." Corey Graves replied, confused as well.

Roman's eyes wondered around in thought until he got a bright idea. He slowly looked back at the screen, watching Carmella leave Sasha alone in the ring. He unfolded his arms, biting his lip from holding back a smile, then he walked away from the television.

The cameras switched back onto Michael Cole and Corey Graves, and they stared at each other with a weird look. Then they looked back at the camera.

"It looks like the Universal Champion, Roman Reigns has something up his sleeve for the Women's Champion, Sasha Banks?" Michael Cole in a curious tone,

"Am I the only one that's still confused?" Corey Graves adds, "What is he thinking? And why would he want to have anything to do with Sasha?"

Michael Cole shrugs, "I guess we're going to have to find out next week." Then they moved on to talk about the other matches and segments.

November 20th, 2020

After getting attacked by Carmella, for the hundredth time, the boss finally began to feel defeated; This wasn't like her at all, and she was so confused. She was humiliated week after week, and now she was taken down in front of Asuka right before Survivor Series. What if the locker room thought she was weak? Or that her title reign would be shorter than all of her others combined? She was the boss but it didn't feel like it at the moment to her. She wondered if Carmella came to her like a real woman, then this would've went differently--but, it was clear that she had time and time again to put a stop to her surprises, and she didn't. Sasha knew that Carmella was after her, but she didn't have confidence in herself that she would be victorious in this fued when it was over.

The camera shot was back on the Women's Champion after Roman and Drew's contract signing was over. She said in the trainer's office, sitting down with her title lying next her. Her head was laid against wall in pain, and the trainer gave her an ice pack to put on her head for the time being. She sighed, quietly thanking him. Then, without a knock, the door opened. It revealed the Universal Champion along with his special counsel and his cousin, Jey Uso.

The two made eye contact with each other in an instant, and silence lingered in the room. Sasha slowly brought the ice pack down from her head, and she experienced a tingly feeling in her stomach. Despite her hidden enjoyment of seeing the Samoan, her eyebrows furrowed a little bit; What brought him here? The pair hadn't interacted in a long time. Not intentionally either, but time passed and they of course went their own separate ways after they had last been together. It might've been awhile, but the chemistry was still there. It never left; It was more than evident at this moment. Even though they knew each other, they were two totally different people than they were four years ago.

Roman switched his attention onto the trainer, giving him an intense expression before looking straight ahead, "Paul.." He said in an awaiting tone. Sasha looked between Paul, Jey, and the trainer. Paul nodded his head politely, signaling Jey and waved his hand over at the trainer to leave the room. The trainer nervously exited the room in fear, Paul and Jey followed behind him, closing the door shut. Roman and Sasha were left alone. Not being able to hold his gaze any longer, she looked down embarrassingly. He probably saw what happened, she thought.

Roman walked further in the room an stopped in front of her, but not too close to where it would make her uncomfortable, "May I?" He asked calmly, and his deep voice made her even more nervous by the second. She nodded, refusing to look at him still.

The head of the table set his title down onto the seat not too far away from him, and sat down next to the beaten up woman. He closed his hands together, resting his arms on his knees and he turned his head to look at Sasha, "I've been in your shoes."

Sasha played with her fingers while she listened to him speak. Normally, she probably would've had a rebuttal, but she felt so broken down that she had no choice but to stay quiet. Roman's attention stayed solely on her as he continued, "I can read you like an open book, Sasha. I know you."

His words replayed in her head like a broken record player; It struck a cord within her and she felt lost. What did he mean by that? What was he implying?

She finally stopped playing with her fingers and their eyes met. Roman could see the sudden confusion yet sadness right through her, which made him even more determined to get his point across.

"I know you've been beating yourself up, and I know that you've been doubting yourself, but this isn't you." Roman paused, "I know what you're going through. I've been through it all, seen it all, and heard it all. I know that people have been tearing you down for being champion; Bayley has said countless times how much you don't deserve it, and Carmella hasn't wasted any time in making sure that you lose your title. But who gives a damn about what they think? Or what they want?"

Sasha's confused facial expression turns into a softer one as she listens to what he's saying. She took in everything, paying close attention.

"The boss I remember, would prove everyone wrong regardless of the hate. You're stronger, bigger and better than any of those people. None of these women can hold a candle to you, and that's exactly why you're champion, because you're the best. You make the title, the title didn't make you. You've come so far and busted your ass for this company way too hard for Carmella, Bayley, or anyone else to take that away. Make them understand who runs this division."

Sasha realized that he was completely right. During this time, she cared way too much about what other people thought which led her to become an easy target, and the boss was never an easy target. If she was, she wouldn't be where she is right now. She had finally remembered who she was, and what she stood for, and no one was going to take that away from her. Sasha softly smiled a little bit, and nodded, understanding where he was coming from.

Roman recognized the smile on her face; It ended up making him grin a tiny bit, and he felt butterflies in his stomach which was a feeling that was mutual to Sasha as well. He gently patted her knee, getting up from his seat and slid his championship on his shoulder. Before he left, he looked down at her one last time and said truthfully, "I believe in you."

Sasha and Roman exchanged looks of admiration before he left the room, leaving her on her own. She smirked shyly, looking down at her lap. Soon enough, SmackDown went off air.

November 22, 2020

The score was so far 2-1 between Raw and SmackDown. The Raw men had successfully beaten the SmackDown men; The Street Profits beat the New Day and Bobby Lashley had beaten Sami Zayn. So far, it wasn't looking good for SmackDown. However, Sasha was determined to make the score even and hopefully Roman and the SmackDown women would be the ones to take it home.

Currently, Sasha was in a match with Asuka. The match was very intense, and it had everyone who was watching on their toes. No one was sure who would win since it was close. Sasha was close to winning multiple times, but it wasn't enough to defeat Asuka.

Asuka kicked Sasha in the chest, knocking her down roughly. When the opportunity was present, Asuka went for her finisher but when she least expected it, Sasha caught her right in the middle of it and kept her shoulders down long enough so she could successfully win the match. Sasha let go of the empress and took a deep breath while there was shock written all over Asuka's face.

"The boss has beaten the empress!" Michael Cole exclaimed. A wide smile grew on Sasha's face and she punched the air in happiness.

"And you're winner, The SmackDown Women's Champion, Sasha Banks!" The ring announcer says with his chest. The ring announcer gives Sasha her title, and helps her up so he could raise her hand. Sasha smiled brightly, feeling over the moon proud of herself that she had won.

A backstage camera showed a shot of Roman and Paul watching her victory from his locker room. He smirked, feeling just as proud. Roman turned his head to look at Paul, and he gave him a look of approval before they both turned their attention back on the screen before he started to prepare for his match with Drew later that night.

➰

Even though the score between Raw and SmackDown was now 3-2, Roman still brought it home for SmackDown and won against Drew McIntyre. After the low blow Roman had given Drew, Jey still came to Roman's aid to sneak a kick at Drew's face so it could put him down for the count for good. After Roman squeezed Drew in his submission, another referee had come out to declare the match. He had proven to Drew, and everyone else, that he was the champion.

As Roman walked out of the ring and up the ramp, he noticed Jey at the top, cheering him on even though he ordered him to leave the building after losing his match against Raw. Once he reaches the top, Jey and himself stare at each other. Jey looks at him nervously, wondering if he'll get angry meanwhile Roman decides to let it slide for the night, and let the consequences come later. He nods, opening his arm up so he could hug him and Jey doesn't hesitate to hold him tight.

When they pull away from the hug, Sasha's theme music plays, surprising everyone who was at the announce table and through the screen virtually.

"Is that who I think it is?" Corey Graves questions.

"It's Sasha Banks!" Michael Cole says in a excited yet confused tone, once again.

"What the hell is she doing?" Samoa Joe asked at the announce table.

As Sasha walked out from the gorilla with the title wrapped around her waist, Paul and Jey turned around to look at her. Paul proudly smiled at her, giving her the nod of approval while Jey wasted no time in clapping, hyping her up from her win earlier tonight. Sasha softly grinned at the both of them, and instead of dancing her way out like she usually does, she walked out more calmly since she was coming out to congratulate Roman, along with showing appreciation to him after encouraging her.

Roman didn't turn around right away, but couldn't help but smirk at the sound of her music. He licked his lips, and turned around to see her approaching him. She stood right next to him, and a small smile grew across her face as he looked down at her, admiring her beauty. He couldn't of been more proud of her. Roman switched his title onto his other hand, and held his hand out to her. Sasha looked down at his hand, and gently took a hold of it. Roman brought her hand to his lips, kissing the top of it softly before saying, "I told you, you could do it."

Sasha swooned on the inside by his sweet gesture, and she lightly blushed while she stared at her tribal chief, "It was all you."

Roman gave her hand a soft squeeze in reaction of her reply, winking at her and his strong--tattoed arm brought her into his side. Jey stood close to Roman while Paul watched in amazment. Meanwhile, Drew sat in the ring, looking at Roman and Sasha with a lost facial expression on his face.

Roman looked down at his title in his hand and said, "This is ours, and this stays with us for the near future. We'll take down what we want to." Then he raises his title above his head proudly, and Jey wraps his arm around Roman's shoulder. Roman looks down at me, and nods, signaling me to do the same. Sasha unbuckles her title from her waist, and holds her title above her head as well as Roman's theme music cues shortly after.

"Wait, does this mean that the head of the table has formed an alliance with the boss?" Michael Cole says in a surprised tone.

"This should be good." Samoa Joe adds, speaking what everyone else might've been thinking. After a lingering silence from the announce table, the program cuts to commerical.

➰

Tags; @haharollins @dilfmoxley @sassymox @reignsbanks @wwzentertainment @darksinandmadness @reignsprint @nianotjax @cptcharisma @grandslamstandard @likesummerrainn @brookethegamer @notoriouscrown @flawlessglamazon @roderickstrong (I'd tag more but I can't remember a lot from the top of my head 💀)

hope you guys liked this :)

#roman reigns #sasha banks #wwe #wwe smackdown #survivor series #rosha #romsha

[curiousconch]

Exit

Chapter 6 of Ricochet (An Open Heart AU)

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: Heather is taken hostage, but by whom? And she isn't alone. Rafael and Bryce set tries to find the missing link.

Pairing: Rafael Aveiro x MC (Dr. Heather Song) | Bryce Lahela x MC (Dr. Heather Song)

Words: 1.4k+ | Genre: Crime, Suspense/Thriller, Romance

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / violence, language

Author's Notes: Thank you so much for taking time to read this series. Please let me know if you want me to include/remove you in the tags list. Also, disclaimer: Majority of the characters are owned by Pixelberry, except the main character Heather Song and an OC Jordan Anderson.

Heather was due for another week in Johns Hopkins. So even though she didn't feel up to it after last night's fiasco, she forced herself to pack her clothes from the washer and clean out her temporary room.

She snuck glances to Bryce's bedroom door, trying to muster up the courage to face him and apologize. She was drunk last night. Drunk people make the lousiest mistakes, especially when that person is an emotional wreck. Long kept secrets of the heart creep up to the surface, often loaded with regrets like ticking time bombs inevitably blowing up the next morning.

In the end, she decided not to tell him her impassioned speech about nothing good ever happens after 2am, a reference from their shared favorite sitcom. Instead, she washed and cleaned and packed, and when the time came, left without a single word. She thought it was best to leave him be, giving them both space to process what they've just revealed. They'll just deal with it after she's done with her commitments in Maryland.

So she booked a car. And with one silent goodbye, she stepped out into the empty hallways. Her steps felt heavy against the carpeted floors, feeling more and more rueful with each. She was about to turn to the elevator bay when the fire exit flew open behind her.

Before she could turn around to see, an arm grabbed her by the waist while a piece of cloth covered her mouth and nose, muffling her shouts for help. Her head began spinning almost immediately. It wasn't long before she completely blacked out.

***

When Heather came to, she only saw darkness. Her immediate reaction was to scream, only to whimper after realizing she was gagged. Panic rose within her chest, as she struggled to think straight. She tried to blink to no avail. She was living in a nightmare, and she badly wanted to wake up. So she had two choices - either be a victim or be a survivor.

She chose the latter.

With that, she began to assess her surroundings, using her limited capabilities. She could tell that her eyes were covered, and by the tingling pain in her wrists behind her, she knew she was tied up. Strangely, her ankles were free. While most of her senses were restrained, those that weren't became magnified.

Her back felt the hard floor, she banged her head against it, confirming her theory.

Concrete? Uneven. Unfinished?

She tried to stand up, her legs felt weak, almost like jelly. She tried another time, and succeeded on kneeling. She balanced herself and used her legs to stand up, one after another.

She heard the sound of plastic rustling in the wind, and the cold night air brushing against her face.

Seems like I'm somewhere cold. Is that wind coming from large windows?

All of a sudden, she heard voices. The sounds were inaudible, but she observed intense shifts in the faint conversation.

Two voices, another room? Are they arguing?

She tried to direct herself towards the voices, taking caution not to make a noise. The volume gradually increased, aiding her to understand the conversation clearly enough.

"You're one hour late and you didn't bring enough."

"Such a whiney brat. Did you get that from juvy?"

"It's a mystery why someone haven't punched you and your perfect teeth."

"Some guy already did. But you? I bet ten grand you wouldn't. You're just a piece of shit without my funding."

"Right, without your pockets lined with cash, what are you?"

"Uh, free man with lots of connections?"

The words didn't make sense to her, but the voices that threw them around sounded familiar. She strained to get closer, trying to think who they could possibly be. Before she could hear more, she stumbled, her body making a noisy thud as it quickly planted on the ground. She felt something hard scrape against her cheek, a warm liquid trickled after, then pain.

Blood.

She shifted her head sideways, her legs dangling over something she couldn't quite figure out from the thick fabric of her jeans. Then it moved.

She gasped and retrieved her legs, her mind racing.

Who is it? Bryce? Rafael?

Her anxiety rose as she struggled with the mere possibility that she wasn't the only one kidnapped. The danger of the situation suddenly becoming more grave.

Then the body elicited a groan, a sound similar with her failed attempt to scream earlier. She heard it grumble once more, and then again. It was in the third time that Heather finally figured out who the voice might belong to.

Senator Ed Farrugia's.

Like a bucket of ice, a bone-chilling realization came to her. If they went all this way to hostage the senator, what's gonna stop them from killing her?

Her panicked thoughts were invaded by the sound of steps approaching. In an instant, she felt that she was shoved upright in a sitting position. The same person grabbed her by the collar and dragged her body back to where she came from, making her bare feet blister and bleed against the rough surface. Her face touched edges of plastic as her body followed the steps of her attacker. She tried to swallow her screams in an attempt to preserve energy, but the hairs at the back of her neck gave her fear away. She was then banged against a wall, followed by silence.

A set of steps receded, probably of the person who just dragged her back to her original place. This was quickly replaced by another set of steps, producing a distinct tapping. Different shoes, different person. First one seems like running shoes, this one sounds like leather.

Without warning, her hair was pulled backwards, making her wail beneath the cloth in her mouth. She smelled the scent of cigarettes.

"You just won't go down without a fight, eh? Well good for you, doctor. This will be all the more enjoyable."

Finally giving in on her fears, she shivered. She knew that voice anywhere. It was a sound so despicable that she hated it ever since the first time she heard it. The one man who mocked her, brought her down since her intern year. Arrogant, ambitious and immoral. All the curse words in the world couldn't describe this person. It belonged to a man she never wanted to see, hear, nor be in the presence of ever.

It was the greatest scumbag of all time.

Declan Nash.

***

Rafael was in full blown recon mode for Senator Farrugia's disappearance when he learned that Heather was also missing. Elijah called in to check if she has contacted him for the last 12 hours, he wished she did, but he told him no. When he got off the phone, the conference room he was in suddenly felt crowded.

"Dr. Song is apparently missing too," he reported to the rest of the team working on the Farrugia case. "Let's find where and when she was last seen, and start from there. I have a hunch she's going to lead us to the senator." He called IT to extract Heather's phone logs and location pings before he stepped out for a moment to process this new information. He found himself slumping in the fire exit stairwell, feeling an urge to punch the wall.

When he was about to act on it, his phone rang. It was ADA Lahela.

"Have you heard?"

"Yes, I just got off the phone with Elijah."

"And Senator Ed?"

"Yes, we're trying to find leads for the past 3 hours since we were notified."

"Okay, have you checked her phone records?"

"IT is working on it now."

"Okay. She supposedly left the condo around 4am this morning. I heard her leave. That might be a good starting point."

Rafael made a mental note.

"I'm going to meet Perry. He's in the front and center of this thing. I'll let you know as soon as I come up with anything." Raf heard Bryce say, after which the line ended.

He felt like an idiot, a sinking feeling of regret drawing him in. But he couldn't wallow in it now. Not until they find her.

There's time for that later. Right now, Heather needs me.

Fired up with resolve, he went out of the desolate stairwell and worked. He immediately followed up on Heather’s phone logs and available electronic records. He also called up field agents to go down at Bryce's complex for a copy of CCTV footage for the past 24 hours.

Once the instructions were handed over, he focused on Travis Perry. He helped himself to a cup of black coffee, willing his mind to stay sharp. He pored over Perry's file, searching for anything they may have missed.

He sighed, pushing back his emotions to the back of his mind. It's quickly becoming one of the longest nights of his life.

Author’s Notes 2: When I wrote this, I thought of merging this with the next. I just felt that they're best read together. So instead of combining the two, I've decided to publish both chapters simultaneously. Both is packed, I know, even I got dizzy writing it. But I hope you'll enjoy the roller coaster ride as much as I did. Appreciate it if you could share your thoughts!

Taglist: @ramsey-lahela @eleanorbloom @choicesficwriterscreations

#open heart #open heart 2 #open heart fanfiction #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week #rafael aveiro #bryce lahela #rafael aveiro x mc #bryce lahela x mc #choices fanfiction #choices #pixelberry

[go--ask--alice]

Ephemeris

Four

14 Days.

336 Hours.

20,160 Minutes.

That is how long it's been since I've spoken to my Joker. I don't know what happened.. I still don't know what the fuck is going on. We were suppose to temporarily move into this god forsaken townhouse together yet here I sit alone. It has taken me that long just to gather my thoughts enough to even write them down.

That morning two weeks ago started so normal. I woke up to find myself alone in bed which honestly isn't that abnormal in itself, J sometimes doesn't sleep and gets his best work done in the middle of the night. I did my usual morning routine hoping he would make an appearance as I stood in the shower under the scalding hot water. He loves to surprise me and join in for some early morning shower sex after a long night of insomnia. I had it set in my mind to give him a bit of a show since he hadn't appeared yet. I put on a modest yet cheeky outfit and set off to his office hoping to interrupt a phone call and tease him as he tried not to acknowledge me. It's a game I love to play with him and gets the most amazing reactions from him. But as I reached the wing his office resided in there was nothing. No Frost at the door, no yelling at incompetent goons over the phone, not even the soft sound of classical music that sometimes floats through the halls when he's deep in his plans.

All of a sudden this massive mansion felt empty, I knew in my gut that he wasn't here. There had been a handful of red flags recently that something bad was brewing but honestly I just expected him to ask me to cut him again. It's something we started doing last year to release some of his darker demons and as far as I knew it had been working. I try to let him come to me with the request rather than pushing. His madness is part of what I love about him and such a key ingredient in what makes him The Joker and I never want to change that.

After I took a few moments to collect myself I called J, maybe there was a perfectly normal reason for his absence? Maybe I had forgotten about a meeting and he left without me? We are rarely apart, even for a few hours, but it does happen.

9:32am no answer

9:39am no answer

9:56am no answer, not even voicemail

This wasn't like J. He may be a psychotic crime boss but he is still always available for me. Worse case scenario my missed called are answered by a text from Frost letting me know what's going on and oh boy was he next on my call list!

......Five missed calls later and I still didn't have any answers. I was ready to burn this place to the ground if someone didn't give me some information.

Finally at around 11am I got a text from Frost.

[Ms Alice, please be ready to leave for the townhouse at 2:30 this afternoon. Boss will explain later.]

My blood boiled as I read the text. It was so generic, so cold. I knew he was only following orders but I felt so betrayed by Johnny. He has become my one confidant in this crazy world I now reside in. He is the only other person who knows what it's like to be in the presence of The Joker's madness and not be a target of it.

I had no choice but to follow along and continue with the plan. My bags were already packed and in the trunk of my new and still barely driven Lambo Aventador. Apparently I would be driving myself seeing as both J and Frost were MIA.

I didn't even want to leave at this point. I felt like a child who has lost their parent in the department store. "If I just stay put they'll have to come back and find me right??" I didn't want to leave just incase J showed back up and I could get an explanation straight from him.

I spent the remaining time going over every red flag I've seen since before our wedding, anything to clue me in to what might be going on. It had almost seemed like J was apprehensive to come back from England, we both knew he needed to return and take care of business in Gotham but England had become a kind of safe house where all the everyday problems could be put on hold and his stress levels really did begin to mellow out in the last few weeks of our stay. From the moment we hit the tarmac here at home there was a noticable shift, the tension in his jaw was back and the twitch under his eye reappeared more quickly than I had anticipated.

I have learned that he lives his life as a series of distractions. Some good some bad but all carefully crafted to distract from the demons in his mind. He immediately began planning our wedding, looking into new properties to acquire, and most amusingly he began building and collecting model cars. If I ever need a good laugh I just like to stop and picture Johnny Frost, lethal weapon, standing in line at the hobby store with a basket full of paints and parts to replace the ones J had broken the night before!

I also thought back to his increased drug use. The coke has always been more of a last resort than recreational to help calm him but recently I know he's started using alot more often. It's a big part of the reason he hasn't been sleeping. I honestly attributed his more erratic behavior to the drugs and insomnia but maybe they were just side effects of a bigger problem? No matter what is going on he is always kind and gentle to me, a courtesy he does not extend to any other living soul. I have seen a level of violence I never thought possible in his presence, it's something I have started to become almost jaded by, but I will never doubt the evil that resides inside that beautiful damaged man. He has also recently taken to personally dealing with some of the lower level thugs in his employ, a task that has always been delegated to Frost or one of the other higher ranking bodyguards. I assume mainly so he has a constant supply of fresh meat for his experiments or even just target practice. I tend to not ask a lot of questions when it comes to the more violent aspects of his empire. If he does not explicitly involve me then I simply do not ask questions.

When the time was right I went down to the garage doors, my last bag in hand and expected to see my car in it's customary spot next to the Benz but it wasn't there. At this point I wasn't sure I could take much more of this bullshit and just began to cry. All the worry and frustration from the day just hit me like a ton of bricks and I didn't want to think anymore. I wanted my husband, I wanted to be clued into whatever the fuck was happening, and goddamn it if I had to leave I just wanted to get in my own car and drive away. After a few moments I wiped my eyes and grabbed my things before heading out the side door towards the front of the building. As I turned the corner a laugh bubbled up from me that sounded foreign and cold. There she was, my beautiful Ghost, J had teased me for naming my car but it's something I have done with every other junk car I ever drove so something as exceptional as this car deserved it too! She was running, her engine humming a low purr and the driver side door was open. This was starting to get even stranger.. I felt like I was in a movie and people were watching from behind the camera lens. That's when I spotted the blacked sedan, it's engine was also running and as I approached Ghost they flashed the high beams at me. It didn't feel like a trap or anything nefarious so I climbed in and slammed the door. My frustrating hitting record levels. On the screen the GPS was already programed for the townhouse. Just as I was about to put her into drive a text popped up on my screen, it was Frost.

[At the rear, head to the destination. -F]

My anger bubbled to the surface and in one swift move I rolled the window down and raised my middle finger as I hit the gas. My sharp black nails and wedding rings glittered in the winter sun, my rear wheels kicking up gravel as I pulled out onto the public road, the blacked out car following closely behind. I knew it was Frost behind the wheel but I had a terrible feeling in my stomach that J was in the backseat. Why was he doing this to me? All morning I had been trying to think of what may be wrong with him, now my thoughts turned to myself. Had I done something to cause this? Did I make a mistake or cross some line I wasn't aware of? From the moment we met it seemed I could do no wrong in J's eyes. Had he finally gotten tired of me? Did he think getting married was a mistake? Was this his way of getting rid of me? All these questions continued to race through my head the entire drive.

The townhouse is approximately 30 minutes outside of downtown Gotham, close enough to still feel metropolitan but far enough out to give the illusion of privacy. J had showed me the floor plan weeks ago as we planned for our extended stay. The building is a four story brownstone with an enclosed garden accessible only from our unit's kitchen. There are three other units on the block, all of which are owned by J, most are empty except for the far end that was occupied but I have no idea who actually lives there or if it's just a front for something else.

As I turned onto the block I hesitated, realizing I had no idea where to park. I never planned on driving here alone so the thought never crossed my mind. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Frost's black sedan take the corner alittle too fast and barrel past me. The back passenger window was rolled down a few inches just furthering my suspicion that J is in there too. I said fuck it and park right infront of the unit and storm out of the car. I stalked up the brick stairs and planted my heels at the front door. I had no key so someone needed to get out the fucking car and talk to me.

[Stay there, I have the keys. -F]

My phone buzzes with another useless text message. I stifle a sigh of annoyance as I see the door open and a visibly uncomfortable Frost make his way towards me. I've never seen him look so unsure of himself? My nerves flaired up again and he hands me a set of keys and a sealed envelope. My name is written in J's messy script and my heart thunders in my chest. I implored Frost for any information he can give and all I got was a nervous chuckle and a sidewards glance towards his car which was still idling halfway down the block. Before turning away he tapped the envelope clutched in my hands. "This is bullshit Ms Alice. Give it time." I didn't even have a chance to ask before he turned and quickly returned to the car. No use waiting for him to pull away, I unlocked the large wooden door and shuffled inside. As soon and the door clicked shut behind me I sunk to my knees and began to cry. All the tears I'd been saving up since this morning came pouring out, I let my emotions flow for several minutes until I saw J's letter discarded on the floor infront me. I took a moment to trace my name written in my loves scratchy script, almost as bad a doctor's, before tearing it open. Inside I found a short note. It was written in deep purple ink so I know it came from the stationary in his office at home.

"Darling, I need to be away for a while to deal with {multiple words scratched out} some sticky fingers at The Smile and Grin. {scribbles} I gave Frost the week off and now I need to handle some of the staff myself because someone’s dipping into my bourbon stash and I need to figure out who."

The whole thing was sloppy and disjointed, it looked rushed and made literally no sense at all. This was all so ridiculous.. The Joker is not a coward yet he couldn't come to me, his wife, and explain what ever the fuck was going on. I crumpled the letter and threw it across the room.

So here I am. It has been two weeks and still nothing. Thank God we had already hired a small staff for this place or I would be screwed.

This is all fucking worthless. When that clown finally shows his face back up here I'll give him a reason for that goddamn metal grill he's got.

-Alice

#ephemeris #joker x alice #joker fanfiction #joker x oc #go ask alice #joker #j #alice #four

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

A/N

This is Death Note meets Black Panther. So if you like the idea of Erik as Light Yagami, you're in the right place.

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

My fics have no READ MORE option because I do them all from mobile. :/ so sorry about the forever scrolls. 😫 Good thing is I'm keeping chapters to about 1500 words.

1. BEGINNINGS

Dear Journal,

I've written of much in my lifetime and now I continue this in my afterlife. But, Journal? How can I accurately describe this VAST realm where the ghost of my former self now exists? That is all I am.

I'll start with the sky for it has demanded my attention. The contrast of the deep purple and rich blue against blindingly white flashes of light make the starry sky of this ancestral plane the most majestic to behold, even greater than that of a Wakandan sunrise, and for that I am grateful. Under this realm’s sky which is so undefiled, so splendid, so divine that no mortal can look upon or stand under it without first forfeiting their very lives and human shells.. we souls of the past run free in our transcendent forms.

But are we truly free within this elaborate repetition?

When we are not running, we write. I'm sure you're beginning to understand. As ancestors, our words bind the earth realm to our own. We are accountable for recording the events in the earth as well as names.

“N'Jobu. Are you going to run?” Chika paces below on the ground, his jet black fur shining blue under the dramatic sky. Life in the ancestral plane is akin to a vivid dream that never seems to come to a point or an end. “What are you pondering so intently? Give that journal a rest, you are free, N'Jobu. You are meant to run on.. forever,” he spoke, each word echoing in my ear, a cement block sealing my monotonous fate. Is that all there is? Running?

“..I’ll remain here.”

Another omen. The curse of eternal disappointment. Chika runs, striding through the soft green grass, toward eternity. He won’t be back for a millennium and it will still be too soon in the scale of forever.

As I perch atop my branch inscribing these entries, I watch the living trapped in the sinking wheel which is humanity.

I see Wakanda entering a new era. I see impending war waged by the unjust. My claw moves on it's own, inking the names of the innocent and the young. They come everyday before their time. I cannot hold back my–is it sympathy? No, sympathy is invalidation. I’ve been removed from mortality for entirely too long to care. The thing I feel–is intrigue.

-N'Jobu

Sinking wheel aside, the human world has its interesting moments. The human mind is an interesting machine. Humans with the capacity to choose their destiny on a small scale will often cling to life for the sole purpose of defiling it. Tooth and nail, they fight to defy and delay the inevitable, still meeting the same fate they struggled against. Humans pursue the end of a certain evil only to be overcome by the specific evil they’ve created.

Humans as a whole? Predictably ordinary and violent. However, the most interesting things pertain to the actions of individuals. Individuals are the wild cards.

That's what I'd like to explore.

---------------------------------------------

Erik slid his phone from his pocket, sliding it in his line of vision as he walked briskly down the city sidewalk toward the block where his office building stood tall. Yahoo news had a few ridiculous articles, pointless in the nature. He considered putting in his earbuds to listen to his playlist until he reached his building. Or maybe he'd pick a research to dive into absorbing it for no other purpose than regurgitating it to the easily impressed. His business partner would be impressed for sure. Decisions, decisions. Clicking quickly through the internet, he stumbled on a title.

17-year-old Isaiah Mark Lewis was unarmed when he was shot after fighting with two officers who first used a stun gun on him.

Disgusting. Another senseless death at the hands of the morally corrupt, the third he'd heard of in two weeks. He hit the back button searching for something different, something lighter.

Marzeus Scott, an unarmed 35-year-old killed by police in Blytheville, Arkansas.

He exited his browser, pocketing his phone and looking ahead to the silver sky and concrete jungle which enveloped him. Black man with a bald fade and suit up ahead, 2:00. Black woman with a long skirt and blazer behind him, 6:00. He couldn't help but see clear targets on their backs as well as his own. It was an unspoken phenomenon, this fear of blackness that became the black soul's burden to carry. Like ants, black people were expected to work pointless 9-5's for CEOs that cared more for dogs and money than human life. Everyday there was the dark aura of the capitalistic, racist shoe hovering above, playing god.

His calf-skin Armani loafers hit the ground at a steady pace and the Harlequin Jacquard wool blazer he wore moved with him like a thick second skin. A police car rolled along with the traffic to his left as he kept his eyes forward.

2:00. Black man sitting on the ground. Elderly. Homeless. It was only a matter of time before he'd be chased away by some pompous authority. Erik took out a few bills folding them into his palm to quickly pass to the old man.

"I can't take this," he rasped. "I can't-- I-- Thank you so much. Thank you." He grabbed Erik's hand which held the $300 and shook it, not letting go. "Thank you so much," he repeated before Erik pulled his hand back.

Great. Now he had to wait at the crosswalk because he'd missed the break in traffic.

He checked his watch impatiently, a rose gold Patek Philippe Nautilus gifted to him by his team at 2K Security, Inc. Having fattened their pockets over the years, he was their hero. And now he was on his way back to his office for a virtual meeting with Samsung.

"Good morning, Mr. Stevens," Gloria, the receptionist perked on his arrival to the ground floor lobby. Nodding in greeting, he could feel her eyes scrolling over him but like every time before, he ignored this--stepping into one of the four large elevators which took him up smoothly to the very top where his spacious office resided.

Large floor to ceiling windows lit the white painted room naturally and his computer awaited, ON but sleep. He could practically see the seconds ticking quickly by, but luckily he was just in time for the meeting with Sandeep.

"Password and login, okay.. 2kMeetings.com. Input access code," he mumbled punching keys all to see the brown skin man with a pompadour of thick straight jet black hair staring back at him. He started the recording.

"Can I say this the best web conferencing software I've used thus far? And I've used a lot," Sandeep commented seemingly impressed. Erik wasn't surprised having been named in Forbes, but he smiled nonetheless giving humble thanks. This software was his own creation. The company overall was his baby. He nurtured it like one would nurture an actual child.

The meeting began and as it progressed, Erik had new projects to undergo, features that Samsung wanted to incorporate into their products and even into their own security and data systems. They began to talk user privacy, security VPNs, and MDMs. Soon after, it was time to disconnect and implement some of the changes discussed.

Hours later, Erik had not ceased in his work. He would not stop until he absolutely had to, it was a thing about him. When it came to his baby he was totally engrossed.

"Baby," Erik spoke into the phone catching it on the second ring when he saw the name Mika flash on the screen with a picture she'd taken and set as the icon herself. "Oh, uh--Dinner? I don't know, I've got a lotta shit to do today." He started typing a code and nearly forgot to continue his call. "Uh--Mika," he paused to type another line. "I may be late tonight."

Movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. Something had fallen through the sky.

"Hm? Oh. What happened?--Nah, I ain't hear about that story, but I just read about two more today. They're just out here killing niggas left and right." He stood looking through one of the tall clean windows to see what had dropped from the sky. No one on the ground seemed to notice. Was he buggin? "Hm? They what? His hands were up and they shot him? With cameras recording?" He listened to his girl's angry report. She was right, they'd probably get off regardless of the evidence. She would know, she was a cop. Well, a detective.

He headed back to the elevator, cellphone in hand while his girl gave him the entire story, venting her frustration simultaneously. When he stepped onto the sidewalk outside of the building, there was no disturbance. No one seemed to be glued to the area for any particular reason. He looked in every direction including up finding a black leather bound journal on the concrete with its spine in the air. If he hadn't seen it fall from the sky, he'd have assumed some random passerby dropped it and he'd have ignored it. Picking it up, he shook and dusted it, turning it this way and that. "No. No protest." Mika was bent on being front line, but it was dangerous. She could get hurt. "You're not going," he asserted. "I understand, but I want you to be safe, okay? Hm?--Aight. I'll see you tonight. Love you," he said hanging up and pocketing the phone, both hands now gripping the worn journal. Whose was it?

The deafening whir of a siren broke through the city noise before a police car appeared from around the corner up ahead. The stories of the three recently murdered men swirled in Erik's head. With the police's extreme prejudices, the results were never favorable for those who looked like him regardless of what they wore, did, or their level of innocence and involvement. He could only imagine the violence that would come from the driver when he made it to his location. Would there be another bad report?

There he was again--anticipating the drop of the sadistic shoe overhead. An ant's mentality. As an ant, this world he was chained to was nothing but disappointment.

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[scuderiabandini]

Sensational shot, & brilliant story copied from somewhere on the web :

Paul Smart's victory at the 1972 Imola 200 was the start of Ducati's superbike success.

"I was riding for Team Hansen Kawasaki in America and to be honest, the pay was not good. I got a basic wage of $12,000 a year and this was just not enough to live on.

"My wife Maggie phoned me and said that she'd got this ride for me on a Ducati at Imola. All that I knew about Ducati was that they made out of date singles, and I didn't even know where Imola was, but Ducati paid my airfare and there was £500 wages, win or lose, so I was up for it.

"I flew from Atlanta, where I had been racing, to London and then straight on to Milan. By the time I arrived, I was dead on my feet. The only thing I wanted Ducati to give me was some food and a bed

"I got straight off the plane and was taken to Modena circuit which is in the centre of the old town of Modena, near to Ferrari's factory. I got the sense that something big was happening because there was a load of Ducati staff and designer Ingenere Fabio Taglioni himself. The first thing which struck me was that bike looked awfully long. It was clearly a road machine and didn't look too exciting. The lug for the road bike's centre stand was still in place. In the paddock, they put a bolt through this and used the centre stand normally. I'd never, ever seen this done on a race bike!

"The bike looked much too long and too big to be a serious race machine but I was immediately impressed by Taglioni who reminded me very much of Doug Hele at Triumph - a good listener, very enthusiastic with a big smile and carrying a very clear picture of the complete race bike in his head. Like Hele, he knew what was needed to make the whole bike work and this encouraged me no end.

"Having just got off the vicious two-stroke Kawasaki H2TR, the Ducati felt really slow because it It didn't rev very much - only to 8250rpm.

"The handling was very slow too. It took an age to turn and ground clearance was limited but it was very stable at speed. I liked it a lot.

"The Ducati race team manager, Franco Farné, asked me what I wanted changing and I told him that the TT100 road tyres had to go. They were worried that race tyres would wear out in the 200 mile race but there was no way I could ride fast and safely on road tyres.

"I also needed a much faster reaction throttle because I had damaged my wrist in the North-West 200 and it was really weak and didn't have much movement in it.

"After the last session, I was completely exhausted and just wanted to go to bed. I brought the bike back to the pits and all the Ducati mechanics were jumping up and down. I had just broken Ago's outright lap record - and he had been riding his 500c Grand Prix bike.

"When we arrived at Imola I could see that this was a huge event from the size of the crowd. I saw Ago and he said not to worry about him because the MV was certain to blow up and in any case, it was shaft drive and didn't handle.

"I never took anything for granted but Bruno Spaggiari, my team mate, and me were both setting very fast times in qualifying so I felt confident that we would be in with a chance.

"My big worry was the bike. It's not like today when race bikes run forever. There was always something dropping off these old things so they need to be constantly nursed. In particular, I thought that the big v-twin engine would knock heck out of the clutch and I didn't want to destroy it before the first corner.

"I got away well but Ago was leading. As he had predicted, after a few laps the MV blew up and that put me in the lead. Then I lost first gear. This wasn't much of a problem, since the engine pulled so well, but what worried me was that there might be a piece of broken metal floating around inside the gearbox waiting to lock everything up and kill me.

"This put me off for a few laps and then I got my confidence back, passed Bruno and the job was done.

"During the last few laps of the race you could hear the screaming voices of the fans above the sound of the engines. I was used to enthusiastic crowds in England but this was something different.

"Bruno and I crossed the finish line first and second and I relaxed for the first time since boarding the plane in Atlanta. I remember riding the bike back into the pit lane and seeing the faces of the entire race team, especially Taglioni and Ducati's Managing Director, Fredmano Spairani. Total elation. This was a big deal for Ducati.

"Before the race, the Ducati team manager Franco Farné was so confident that Bruno and me were going to be first and second that he got us to agree to pool the prize money and split it 50/50 regardless of who won. I was pleased to do this and I think I took home about £5,000 - which was a lot of money.

"Ducati had also promised me the bike if I won and, with my past experience of manufacturers' promises, I didn't believe them. But I was wrong and sure enough they did give me the bike and I've still got it today and it's now on display in the Ducati museum in Bologna."