#your honour it is impossible for him not to be a criminal | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

undiscovered-horizon · 2 years

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Imagine Matt "saving" you from a guy at the bar.

[tw: pushy guy, mild verbal harassment(?)]

"I'll grab another round," you offer after drinking the last sip of your beer.

"Need a hand?" Foggy offers while aiming with the cue stick. He was always ready to help with anything and you didn't have to ponder how come his friendship with Matt lasted for so many years. Franklin Nelson was one of those people you can't not be friends with once you get to know them.

"I'm good," you answered and left for the bar.

Even though it was a Wednesday night, the venue was filled with people but only some of them looked like they had day jobs. Despite the bad reputation of Hell's Kitchen, nothing about the bar's patrons indicated they were holding a green card for the demimonde. The rougher those assumed criminals looked, the less they were interested in the white-collar guests. Maybe only in places with a monopoly on strong alcohol those two worlds can coexist.

You noticed some guy staring in your direction, leaning on the counter, but it was a bar, after all - it's hard to look anywhere without your gaze landing on someone. The bartender struggled to keep up with the orders, putting one bottle of beer in front of you after every other drink she made. Perhaps because the four of you were regulars, she figured that you can wait a little longer without leaving a bad review on Yelp.

"I'm gonna have to arrest you, miss," a stranger next to you said with seriousness in his voice.

What a bizarre way to make conversation, you thought. Turning around you were met with a quite average-looking man. He had longish blond hair, strong features and was wearing a leather jacket. There was a tear-shaped, red scar under his left eye. His eyes were drilling into your face as if he was trying to see through you. A shiver run down your spine but not one of the pleasant ones. Unocniously, you crossed arms on your chest, trying to put something between you and the man. He was standing sideway to the bar, on your left, blocking off your path toward the front door should you wish to leave.

"Excuse me?" you asked him. To some degree, you wished you had misheard.

"You're too beautiful," he answered with a self-assured grin. It seemed as if he wasn't comprehending the possibility of rejection. For a moment you wonder whether he was aware of just how off-putting his mannerism was.

You clenched your jaw and barely stopped an irritated sigh from leaving your mouth. Just don't escalate this, you thought to yourself.

"Thank you," you answered indifferently and turned away from him.

"You know, I never expected such an eye-candy to be spending her night in Hell's Kitchen's pub."

Looking at him again, you didn't answer right away. His statement, with a quite obvious offensive undertone, left you baffled. You thought to yourself that it was nearly impossible for someone to be that way on purpose. The man's haunting stare never left your gaze, sometimes failing at sneakily looking at your body. The stranger must have misinterpreted your silence as interest because he kept on talking:

"Would the lady mind if I bought her a drink?" he asked. "I'll tell you about the scar and you tell me why a beauty like you goes to run-down pubs."

"Thanks but no. I'm not interested." Although it's only a short moment, you notice him clench his jaw.

"Come on, I'm a nice guy. Scout's honour."

"Look, my friends are wai-..."

"Don't be a killjoy, sunshine," the man interrupted you. He tried to brush away your hair but you flinched away before his fingers could touch your face.

You were about to open your mouth to give him a last polite warning when you felt a hand sneak around your waist, shamelessly sliding down to your hip. The feeling of slightly coarse cheap cotton and musky cologne left you no doubts about your saviour.

"You've been gone for a while," Matt said without acknowledging the stranger. "You doing alright?" He softly kisses the corner of your mouth and you can't help but blush a little. It's hard to believe that so much time has passed and Matt was still capable of bringing that school girl crush out of you.

"Yeah, it's just a really busy night, see?" you answered and vaguely pointed to the mob of people along the counter.

"Yes, pretty busy," he said absentmindedly. "Sorry, did I interrupt you guys?"

"No, I was just about to come back to you."

The stranger didn't offer a handshake like most people do. You couldn't be sure whether he had realized that Matt was blind or simply wanted to be rude. For a moment, neither of them said anything. In your mind, you were already imagining a fistfight about to break out.

Assuming that the stranger had nothing else to say, Matt started pulling you away from the bar. The odd encounter, however, couldn't end without one more exchange of less than welcome comments:

"With a girl like her, you better get a double-barrel, man."

You felt his grip on your hip tighten, although you weren't sure if it was intentional. Matt wasted no time answering, his tone nothing short of challenging:

"I'm doing just fine bare-handed."

With one hand on your back and the other holding two bottles by their necks, Matt gently pushed you through the crew, listening to the angered heartbeat of the unknown blond man.

"What was the line of the day?"

Unmistakenly, you heard amusement in Matt's voice. Sometimes you thought that, maybe, he likes to be the envy of other men. Perhaps it filled him with some unknown to you sense of pride - that no matter how suave a stranger can be, it was still him taking you home.

"Apparently I have to be arrested because I'm too beautiful."

Matt chuckled at first but then slightly nodded his head in agreement.

"It's a lost case, the jury will surely find you guilty." You laughed at his words, admiring how natural it was for him to flirt with you.

Whenever Matt got all smooth and nonchalant, you quietly wondered whether he knew that he didn't have to do it; you had eyes only for him in the most embarrassing cliche way. It was, however, a lovely thought to entertain - that he wanted to still chase after your heart.

Because of the noise intrinsic to a bar's sole existence, Foggy and Karen couldn't hear your conversation until the two of you reached the pool table and so your friends were victims only to your very last, only half-joking, sentence:

"Would you like me handcuffed, mister attorney, sir?"

Karen coughed suddenly but Franklin seemed to be greatly unaffected at the less than unambiguous words. The blond man was focused on aiming the cue ball, although didn't take a shot before commenting on the question they had just heard.

"The day you two got together was the day I started to hate romance."

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mariana-oconnor · 7 months

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Charles Augustus Milverton pt 2

We return to The Worst.

“You would not call me a marrying man, Watson?” “No, indeed!” “You’ll be interested to hear that I am engaged.” “My dear fellow! I congrat—” “To Milverton’s housemaid.”

Holmes.

Holmes... did you...

Did you fucking seduce some poor woman just to get information?

“But the girl, Holmes?”

Thank you, Watson!

“You can’t help it, my dear Watson. You must play your cards as best you can when such a stake is on the table. However, I rejoice to say that I have a hated rival who will certainly cut me out the instant that my back is turned."

There's that, I supposed. But I am disappoint.

I did not remember this part of the story.

I seemed to see every possible result of such an action—the detection, the capture, the honoured career ending in irreparable failure and disgrace, my friend himself lying at the mercy of the odious Milverton.

You're acting like this is the first burglary he's committed, Watson. This isn't even the hundredth burglary he's committed.

Though I do appreciate this glimpse into Watson's anxiety.

“Yes,” I said; “it is morally justifiable so long as our object is to take no articles save those which are used for an illegal purpose.”

Watson ponders the nature of ethics and morality and contemplates the justness of the justice system.

A case of two wrongs making a right?

"Between ourselves, Watson, it’s a sporting duel between this fellow Milverton and me. He had, as you saw, the best of the first exchanges; but my self-respect and my reputation are concerned to fight it to a finish.”

Holmes: I can take him. Let me at him. I can take him!

Watson: Only if I come, too!

Holmes: NO! You might get arrested.

Watson: I feel like there are some double standards here.

"You know, Watson, I don’t mind confessing to you that I have always had an idea that I would have made a highly efficient criminal."

We know, Holmes. You talk about it all the time. One of your favourite things to say is 'if I were a criminal, I would be very good at it.' In the last story you told a police officer all about how you sort of wanted to be a burglar... and in fact are a burglar because you keep burgling places.

This is not a secret! It is the opposite of a secret! You would tell someone that you kind of want to be a criminal if you just happened to be standing behind them in a queue!

I'm surprised you don't introduce yourself as 'Sherlock Holmes, private detective, which is a good thing because I've always been convinced I would make an excellent criminal.'

Literally no one is surprised that you have a state-of-the-art burglary kit lying around.

And no one is surprised that Watson will make the masks.

"On the other hand, like all these stout, little men who do themselves well, he is a plethoric sleeper. Agatha—that’s my FIANCEE—says it is a joke in the servants’ hall that it’s impossible to wake the master."

I see no reason for this capitalisation other than Holmes shouting the word like he wants the world to know.

This is so weird.

The place was locked, but Holmes removed a circle of glass and turned the key from the inside.

He's not even picking the lock, he's literally cutting holes in the windows.

He seized my hand in the darkness and led me swiftly past banks of shrubs which brushed against our faces. Holmes had remarkable powers, carefully cultivated, of seeing in the dark. Still holding my hand in one of his he opened a door, and I was vaguely conscious that we had entered a large room in which a cigar had been smoked not long before.

Hand-holding and B&E, the perfect date!

We were in Milverton’s study, and a PORTIERE at the farther side showed the entrance to his bedroom.

Ooooh, it was capitalised because fiance is a french word... okay then. Sure. We'll go with that.

My first feeling of fear had passed away, and I thrilled now with a keener zest than I had ever enjoyed when we were the defenders of the law instead of its defiers. The high object of our mission, the consciousness that it was unselfish and chivalrous, the villainous character of our opponent, all added to the sporting interest of the adventure. Far from feeling guilty, I rejoiced and exulted in our dangers.

Watson:

With a glow of admiration I watched Holmes unrolling his case of instruments and choosing his tool with the calm, scientific accuracy of a surgeon who performs a delicate operation.

Too late.

I understood the joy which it gave him to be confronted with this green and gold monster, the dragon which held in its maw the reputations of many fair ladies.

Wow. This imagery is intense. Holmes playing on Watson's chivalric instincts really went deep, huh? A dragon with ladies' reputations in its maw. Watson's out there fancying himself a modern-day St George, I guess.

Then the footsteps continued backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards, within a few yards of us. Finally, there was a creak from a chair, and the footsteps ceased. Then a key clicked in a lock and I heard the rustle of papers.

Dun dun duuuuuuuuun

Cliffhanger time.

Now, I do think I remember what happens next. But still. Who has come into the room? Will Holmes and Watson be discovered and their career change into crime be cut off before it can truly flourish? Will Watson ever get over this simultaneous hit to both his competency kink and his chivalry kink? We may never know.

#Letters from Watson #Charles Augustus Milverton #Sherlock Holmes #long post

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st-kitten · 10 months

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“you’re lucky I like you”

MIGUEL O’HARA x THIEF READER warnings: none, fluff, soft miguel, cute miguel words: 2,705

He shouldn't have kept you around. Miguel was no fool—even if you mistook him for one. He should have brought you to the police, but you both knew he wouldn't.

“What did you do this time?” he asked, feigning annoyance. He had known why. Miguel had wanted to hear her say she wanted him, though. She had been like an addiction. He had kept coming back knowing it wasn't good for him. No matter how much he had tried to stop, it had been futile. He was hooked.

“Wow, you’re perpetually annoyed, aren’t you?”

“Perpetually annoyed, and not ashamed of it,” Miguel replied, crossing his arms, “Especially after dealing with idiots like you for the past year.”

He didn’t break eye contact with the criminal before him.

“Drama queen much? If I annoy you that much, why’d you come? Why not send someone else?” You say.

“I would be the last one to admit to such bullshit,” he growled, “I’m an adult. I have responsibilities. One of those responsibilities is putting criminals like you in the hands of the police where they belong.”

But he couldn’t help his mind from wandering. He’d done this countless times with her, and yet, he still hadn’t managed to capture her. It wasn’t normal. It was impossible. And Miguel hated impossible. Just thinking about it irritated him.

“So, where’s the police? Or have you got some other ideas?” You asked, smirking.

His heart skipped a beat. Miguel stared at the woman before him, at the taunting, sultry smirk on her lips. If looks could kill, that woman would’ve been dead the very first time he laid eyes upon her.

“You know I’m not gonna take you to the police yet,” Miguel said, not taking his eyes off her. “So I guess you know what that means.”

“How could I know what it means? I’m just an idiot…” you said, pretending to be dumbfounded.

Miguel couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at that. The stupid criminal before him wasn’t nearly as stupid as she wanted to make herself sound. He could read her like a book. “Don’t play stupid”, he said matter-of-factly, “It doesn’t suit you.”

“Oh, come on, can’t a girl play around a little?”

“Not when your ‘playing around’ results in innocent lives being lost,” Miguel countered, staring her down. “It’s a miracle you haven’t killed anyone yet.”

“You’re welcome!” You said with a playful glint in your eye.

“Oh, so I’m supposed to thank you for not killing more people than you already have?” Miguel snapped back. “That’s rich.” He rolled his eyes sarcastically. This girl had some nerve…

You shrugged. “So, if we’re not going to the police, can we at least go and have a bite to eat? I’m ravenous…”

He was stunned for a few seconds. Not only was he taken aback by that remark, he’d never actually heard a criminal say something like that before, let alone to him. “Are you for real right now?” Miguel asked, “Like actually.” His eyes narrowed, a curious look on his face. He was getting mixed messages from this woman.

“Yes, I’m for real right now. Aren’t you hungry too, from all the chasing around and catching bad people?”

He paused for a moment or two, thinking about it for just about the first time in his life. As much as he hated to admit it, he WAS a little hungry. Plus, it’d give him a good excuse to keep her near him at all times.

“Fine,” he relented, “But I’m not paying.”

“Well, I’m the rich one…as you said…”

“Rich? You’re a criminal,” Miguel reminded, “Any money you can get your hands on was earned unlawfully.” He put his hands on his hips, staring her down, daring her to say something back. They’d had this argument before.

“I’m not arguing with you on an empty stomach. Now, will you please come with me? There’s a nice Mexican place around here.”

He let out a sigh, defeated, “Fine”, Miguel replied, “Only this time.” He couldn’t help but think he’d been baited right into her little game. He knew she was laughing at him in her mind, mocking his pride and his honour.

They both walked into the Mexican diner. He picked a seat in the far corner and they both sat down. The lights from the window peeked in and illuminated their faces.

“You ever tried a burrito?”

He looked at her curiously. “You’re seriously asking me right now if I’ve ever tried a burrito?” Miguel asked, letting out his best mocking chuckle of the night, “I’m Hispanic. I practically live on beans and rice.”

He smirked. “I think I can handle a burrito,” he said, clearly teasing her back.

“Let’s see it. Order the spiciest burrito you can find.” You suggested.

Miguel frowned at her request. “The spiciest?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Now, he liked spicy food as much as the next guy, but the spiciest? The spiciest the Mexican restaurant could make? What was she trying to prove? “Alright, sure,” he shrugged, “If you think I’m such a scaredy-cat.”

“Never said so…”

When it arrived, Miguel took a huge bite of the burrito, all while staring her down. His face contorted in disgust as he tried to chew it down. He grimaced, tried to hold back a cough. His eyes watered, his nose started running, and all the color drained from his face. “Holy…” Miguel sputtered, grabbing his glass. “That thing is hotter than the fires of hell. Where the hell did you bring me?!”

You smirked, effortlessly eating your spicy burrito. Not a single sign of discomfort on your face.

“Only the best Mexican diner in the city.”

“You ate that thing easily,” Miguel said, through the pain and tears in his eyes, “Like it’s nothing.” He was flabbergasted. No wonder they’d never caught her—she’d melt their faces right off with the flame from that food alone.

“It is nothing! If it were up to me, I’d put some more chillies and peppers in it.”

“You’re insane, you know that?” Miguel asked, finally calming down. “Not even my grandma could eat that thing with a straight face, and she ate jalapeños for breakfast!”

“So do I! What a coincidence!” you said sarcastically.

“You’re just as crazy as she was,” Miguel sighed. He knew it for sure. “You really enjoy setting me up, don’t you?” he asked, laughing a little, “I fall for it every time, and you know it.” He shook his head.

Taking a sip of his ice cold glass of water, Miguel stared at the criminal with a smile. “Not that I mind.”

“You’re fun. You make the chase interesting. And… I like seeing you every now and then.”

“So you like seeing me suffer? Is that it?” Miguel asked, a smirk growing on his face. “Or maybe you like watching me get so heated and frustrated.” He put his arms on the table and leaned in. “Maybe you like seeing me like this.” His eyes flashed a teasing gleam as a tiny smirk overtook his lips.

“Oh I do like what I’m seeing…” You said with a grin.

“Hey now, careful with those eyes,” Miguel replied playfully, putting a finger to them, “Or you might just take my breath away.” The look in her eyes made his heart skip a beat. She had this certain way about her that was, to put it simply: irresistible.

“Well, you’re still breathing, so we’re good. Would you like to share some ice cream?”

“That sounds like a great offer right about now”, Miguel admitted, “I suppose I’d love to. You got a sweet tooth or something?” He asked, tilting his head. He’d never thought to ever hear that come from a criminal before. It made him smile.

“I have a spice tooth. You shouldn’t be surprised if I find a place that sells spicy ice cream…” you say jokingly.

“You are one cruel human being,” Miguel commented lightly, “How dare you suggest such a thing?” His mouth curled into a grin as he took the suggestion one step further.

“Tell you what, take some jalapeños from these leftovers and let’s put it in whatever ice cream we eat.”

“Ay, dios mío.” Miguel sighed, already dreading the idea of the monstrosity of a sweet and spicy treat that his companion was suggesting. “I don’t like the way you think.”

The way this girl thought worried Miguel. He wasn’t too sure if he should be more amused or more scared.

You find an ice cream parlour and order a variety of ice creams, hiding small slices of jalapeños in them, not knowing when you might bite them

“Okay, your turn,” you said.

Miguel took a massive spoonful of his ice cream, and as he bit into it…it was as spicy as he though it’d be! “Jesus Christ…” he exclaimed, his face contorting and making an expression of pure shock.

“Was this your plan the entire time?” He asked, chuckling a little, although clearly out of pain. He had to hand it to the girl…she was evil…in a cute way.

“Tell me you’re not having fun right now…”

He had to admit it…this girl was a force to be reckoned with, and it took a lot to admit that. “I guess…I guess I kind of am,” Miguel admitted sheepishly, feeling his chest tighten the more he spoke. It wasn’t often that the man let his guard down.

“Not that I’m enjoying the spice,” he clarified, “But I’m enjoying this strange yet…intriguing dynamic we’ve got going on.” He smiled, looking at her with a twinkle in his eye.

“That’s the spirit. What do you say we take this to go and walk around the city? I can show the places I’ve robbed so far…” you said jokingly, but innocently.

“Ah, we going for a stroll now, I see,” Miguel said, “Sure, why not? As long as you promise to not steal anymore.” At this comment, he knew full well what the girl’s answer would be. He smirked, knowing she’d never stop being a criminal. But it was all in good fun. He knew he couldn’t help but crack a small smile.

You pay the ice cream vendor and Miguel wonders where all that cash came from.

Her wealth confused him to no end. When he was first tasked with capturing you, he’d always assumed you wasn’t that successful. But looking at all that cash, it seemed that assumption couldn’t have been more wrong. Now he really couldn’t help but wonder what he was getting himself into.

As you walked out of the ice cream parlor, Miguel couldn’t help but ask, “I don’t suppose you came by this money legally, did you?”

That’s up to you, I guess…” you said handing him his own wallet, that you’d picked earlier.

It dawned on him and he patted his pockets. “Argh, diablita, tenías que robarme la cartera, no?”

“Hey, you said you’re not paying, so I had to… somehow…” You shrugged innocently.

Miguel couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, then a full blown laugh. She was so sneaky, that girl. She could rob an entire bank and not leave the slightest trail behind. But this? This was…just low. “You could’ve stolen money from the bank,” he pointed out, as they began to walk again, “Not the person trying to stop you.”

“Where’s the fun in that? You know how much I love seeing you flustered…” you said nudging his arm. He jolted at the contact, but didn’t pull away.

“I do know you’re enjoying this,” Miguel huffed, “It’s like some sick game for you, right? You enjoy getting me riled up and annoyed, and I’m just sitting here letting it happen.” He shook his head. She was right…it was all just a game to her.

“Game or not, I do like you better than most policemen who come after me.”

He was caught off guard by the statement, but it was definitely a big compliment if he’d ever heard one. “Now that, you have to explain,” Miguel replied, walking by the side of the girl and looking down at her. “What’s not to hate about me, hmm?”

He was curious as to what made her like him so much. Sure, they had amazing banter, but was that really all it took to like someone?

“You’re sincere, Miguel. You put your best in your work and you mean well. I hate to take advantage of it, but I don’t mean to hurt you. I just love the thrill of it. What’s not to like about you? Have you met you? You’re fucking awesome”

He felt his face warm at the words. No one had ever spoken that highly of him, and to know it was the criminal he had been tasked to catch was oddly flattering. It made him want to be better—to put in twice as much work in order to show her that he could be good if he tried.

“Wow. You really mean it, don’t you? You actually think I’m…good?” He cleared his throat, looking at his own feet before back at her.

“Oh, my, are you blushing? Adorable. I like you even more now.”

“You—“ Miguel stuttered, feeling his face heat up even more as she teased him. He’d lost his composure in just an instant.

“Alright, alright, enough of those kinds of compliments,” he spoke lightly, “Let’s save that for later, alright? How about you focus on being a better criminal for the moment?”

“And how do I do that? Steal your heart or something?” You wiggled you eyebrows.

Miguel laughed at the comment. “As if you haven’t done that already,” he replied, half whispering.

He shook his head. “For now, I think your criminal activity should be kept to just stealing from the rich,” he said, his smirk growing, “There’s a line between stealing and causing harm…and you know that.”

“Alright… I can do that. But then I’d miss having you chase me to catch me.”

“Is that a challenge? Because let me tell you, I can play the long game, cariño,” Miguel challenged, turning his head to lock eyes with her. “I’m not giving up. Not now. Not ever.” He raised a brow. “You just wait until I finally catch you.”

“It won’t be easy,” you said, slightly leaning forward.

“I know it won’t…” Miguel huffed, rolling his eyes in a playful manner, “You’re incredibly elusive for just one person.” He smirked.

“But I promise that when you’re finally arrested, it’ll be worth it. Because you’ll be in prison for eternity. Maybe by then, you’ll have learned your lesson.” He smirked, a confident twinkle in his eye.

“Oh, but then you’d miss me… The streets would be no fun without me.”

He thought for a moment. He knew what she had said was true—if he ever managed to catch her. As much as he was trying to capture her and put her behind bars, something in him would miss her and those dangerous stunts she pulled and the criminal activity she got up to. Not to mention the fact he’d actually begin to miss the chase, too.

“Alright, I’ll give you that one, thief,” he sighed, “You’re right…the streets would be no fun without you.”

“That’s my boy.” You said as you leaned forward to peck Miguel’s cheek softly.

His heart was a mess now—he couldn’t focus on a single sentence. All he could see was her—the playful smirk she always wore, her rich brown eyes, her soft yet strong hands, her silky hair that flew like waves at the ends. He could lose himself in her appearance.

“You’re lucky I like you,” he responded softly, “Because if I didn’t…”

His voice trailed off and he didn’t finish his sentence.

You looked at him intently and your lips hovered over his. “… hell would break loose… wouldn’t it?”

The close proximity was driving him crazy. He was losing control, little by little, with every passing moment. It wasn’t long before he was leaning in, his lips meeting hers. He’d kissed her. He’d finally kissed her.

If he was falling for her before, he was plummeting at this point—and he was falling hard.

#fluff #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara #soft Miguel #thief reader #multiverse #burrito boy #ice cream girl

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whumpiary · 1 year

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"I was never too fond of my last name." "Well, you could have mine if you'd rather."

PLEASE I need Mal and Lou flirting

from this prompt list

content warning: briefly referenced complicated family bullshit. and fluff 😌

They’ve opted for one giant tub of frozen yoghurt between them, rather than two seperate ones, which ended up being slightly problematic when they got to toppings, but they’d managed to negotiate the delicate balance between fruits and confectionery until they were both satisfied. And Mal is graciously not pointing out that technically Lou has eaten more of the jersey caramels than he has.

But then she goes for one of his brownie bites and he’s absolutely not having it. He baps her on the back of her hand with his spoon.

She pulls back and looks at him, scandalised.

“Those are mine,” he says,

“We are sharing.”

“You wanted berries!”

“Yeah but then you put other shit on!”

“Yeah and that makes it my other shit.”

“Mi casa es su casa.”

“Okay but this side of the toppings is *mi* casa and-“

She swoops her spoon down and steals a piece of brownie while he’s busy telling her off.

“Ah! Louise!”

“Mal James!”

“Oi how come I get last-named?”

“I got full-named!”

“Yeah but I got last named.”

“You don’t have a fuller name for me to go to.”

“Mallory.”

“Literally not your name?”

“Yeah but I’d prefer you use that than my last name.”

“You’d prefer I use a fake name than your real actual name?” Lou says, incredulous and grinning. “Really?”

Mal screws his nose up and steals a raspberry. "I’ve never been too fond of my last name.”

“No?” Lou scoops a raspberry too. “Why? The family baggage?”

“I mean yeah, that, but the amount of patients at work that call me James because they see it on my tag and think it’s my first name? No good.”

“Well if you don’t like your last name, you could always have mine."

Mal nearly chokes on a brownie bite. “What was that?”

“Mal Bako,” Lou says, suave as anything, smiling as she puts her spoon upside down on her tongue. “Reckon it has a nice ring to it. Don’t you?”

Mal’s brain short circuits for a moment or two. He blinks. She grins. He blinks again. “Are you… Is that…?”

Lou’s smile just gets wider, “What?”

“You want me to take your name?”

She shrugs. “If you want it.”

“Are you asking me to marry you?”

She raises a sculpted brow, “You saying you don’t wanna?”

“You wanna get married?”

She smiles impossibly wider, spoon still in her mouth, “Mi casa es su casa, right?”

“We’re gonna get married?!”

He dives in so fast for a kiss that he knocks their teeth together and the frozen yoghurt clean over.

“So I was thinking about what you said…”

“About?”

“About my name.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” he says. They’re up at the lookout above town, sharing fish and chips for dinner as they watch the setting sun, both sitting side-saddle on their bikes. It almost looks too pretty to be real, the pink of the sky reflecting off the gums. “Reckon it is the family baggage a bit.”

It feels weird to admit out loud.

Lou, gracious and careful, stays quiet. She watches his face and waits for him to elaborate a bit more.

“I mean… James Family Real Estate. James family business. James family dependency issues,” he pauses. “James family history. Both criminal and otherwise.”

He scratches at the roses on his inner arm, the warped skin they half-cover, the two intertwined snakes he’s sure are still there somewhere underneath the scar tissue.

Lou takes his hand and brings it up to her lips to kiss the back of it. “I was serious about you taking mine if you want it. It’d be an honour.”

He looks at her and gives her a soft smile. It’s an honour to be offered it. But he can’t hold her gaze too long, turning his head as a few cockatoos make a noisy take off.

“Nah that’s the thing though,” he says. “Not that I don’t want your name but… I want mine, you know?”

She tilts her head this time. Not really.

He clicks his tongue in thought and sighs a breath.

“How come they get the name and I don’t? You know?” he says. “How come I have to change my name or something because I don’t want to belong to their legacy? The names mine as much as any of theirs.”

“True that,” Lou says. He kisses the back of his hand this time. “So you want to keep it? Reclaim it kinda?”

He turns his head to look at her, heart full of a strange feelings-soup. With a strong seasoning of nerves. “Would that be okay?”

She raises a brow, “Are you seriously asking me if it’s okay if you keep your fuckin’ maiden name?”

He laughs loudly, the sound bouncing down the hillside. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Shit my dude, we’re gonna have to review the terms of the marriage if you want that long a leash.”

He laughs again. The shake of it feels damn good in his chest. “Oh yeah?”

“Mm-hm. You want your last name, then I’m expecting an obedient house husband.”

“Dinner on the table at 6?”

“And all the housework done.”

“And I assume I’m not allowed any hobbies?”

“Or friends. Don’t even think about it.”

“Only fair, I suppose. I, with so little dowry…”

“Exactly. You’re on thin ice.”

He chuckles again and reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small little black box to slide along the seat of Lou’s bike. “Does this sweeten the deal any?”

The breath in she takes is as shocked and sweet as if she hadn’t already proposed to him a fortnight ago. “Oh my god.”

He flicks the box open to reveal the ring. Simple hammered band, imprinted with a tiny fern frond, “Whaddya reckon?”

“Dude.”

He smiles at her, a little chuffed to see her teary-eyed. “You want me to do this proper?”

“Yeah. Yes.”

So gets down on one knee, groaning right the way down.

“Old man,” she quips.

He scoffs in mock offense, “Excuse me, I’m a cripple. Cut me some slack.”

“Nuh. No excuse.”

“Shut up. I’m being romantic.”

“Okay, sorry.”

“Lou Bako…”

“Mal James…”

“Shh,” he scolds. She has a look on her face that tells him she’s barely holding back a grin. Like she’s full of every good thing in the world and struggling to contain it. Ready to burst at the seams with joy. He reckons he feels about the same.

The cockatoos take off again and he feels like the sun is setting on the horizon just so it can rise in his chest.

“You wanna be my motherfucking wife?”

#fluff #lou #mal #tooth rot etc etc #everyone go to the dentist

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riding-palominos-every-day · 11 months

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How about Jojo and/or Kenny for the character ask game? (The one where you list your favorite/least favorite thing about them, favorite quote, etc.)

Ough yesss two (2) of my boys!!

JoJo

Favourite thing about them: He's such a silly guy, I love him

Least favourite thing about them: I wish he had a few more lines, especially in UKsies bc half of them got given to other characters😔

Favourite line: "A solid gold watch with a chain to twirl it!" Not that he gets to say that anymore-

BrOTP: Him and Elmer. They are best friends your honour :] I think they became newsies roughly around the same time, so they learnt how to sell together

OTP: Don't really have one

NOTP: None

Random headcanon: He's been a newsie for a few years, but only recently moved out of the church and into the lodging house. He's still wrapping his head around having to pay to live somewhere

unpopular opinion: If considering him the most religious newsie is unpopular, then we'll go with that

favourite picture of them:

Kenny

Favourite thing about them: His potential. The biggest plus of characters with few lines and no trading card means you get to interpret them however you like!

Least favourite thing about them: He is criminally underused😭 No lines and barely ever onstage even when Darcy isn't there

Favourite line: ...

BrOTP: I don't have any evidence for it but I choose to think he gets on with Smalls and Sniper

OTP: None

NOTP: None

Random headcanon: He was also raised in a church like JoJo, but treated much, much worse. He's vehemently anti-religion as a result

unpopular opinion: Given that nobody seems to have opinions on him I think it's impossible to have unpopular opinions skdkksd

favourite picture of them: (this is literally the only photo of him I can find-)

#thanks for the ask emmy!#newsies #newsies headcanons #asks #ask game

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steampunkedemon · 1 year

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Hello Ally babes, how are you love bug?

Okay what are your top ships from five different fandoms and why?

PEELS BABY HIIIII omg i’m doing so good i think!! here’s a photo of milos btw, he’s been cuddly and cold all day <3 how are you my love??

OK so my top ships (from 5 different fandoms) in no particular order:

sam and rowena from supernatural! they’re almost tied with sastiel and samruby for me actually, but ultimately i just think sam and rowena spending time together, doing their witch stuff, being a hot power couple (and also sam getting to bag a hot milf) is so <33 and that supersedes any and all other ships! and also i go insane when she calls him samuel :((

prentiss and reid from criminal minds <3 half because i’m in love with emily and relate to reid the most and thus am projecting onto him and half because their scenes are so :( the scene where she begs him to stay bc she needs someone she knows is real and he immediately hugs her???? rent free peels rent fucking free </3

waverly and nicole from wynonna earp!! i absolutely adore them, they’re just so shsjksks my sweet angels!! don’t even have like a real reason why i ship them, it’s just impossible not to <3 they’re the babiest of babies and i want to kiss their cheeks and maybe be their third—

theo and liam from teen wolf <3 theo is liam’s anchor!!! liam chose theo to go with him to the zoo!!!! theo “i’m not dying for you” raeken immediately trying to die for liam!!!!! S6B!!!! they had so much chemistry and i will NEVER be over them EVER >:(

andddd finally even though we all know it already,,, raf and kirin from the wilds <3 my sweet angels <3 my loves <3 i have no good reason for this besides “i woke up one day and decided That’s It That’s The One”. and i haven’t looked back since! kirivan i love you but rafkirin will always be number one to me :(

a couple honourable mentions::: sparia, dair, jeronica, gallavich, sandy/debbie, and ellie/dina <3

#my baby hiiii <3333 #honourable mentions bc i adore them all too shsjskks #i’m just now realising how many het ships i have but also i hc almost all of them as bi4bi <3 #asks tag #peels tag #my cat tag #bc pic

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if-you-fan-a-fire · 1 year

Text

"Stern Sentences Are Imposed Upon Criminals by Court," Hamilton Spectator. May 21, 1943. Page 7 & 11. --- STREET RAILWAY ROBBERS GET LONG PRISON TERMS ---- Impossible To Be Lenient, Judge Lazier Points Out --- PUNISH TORONTO MEN ---- Conforti Pleads For His Companion in Crime ---- Sentences ranging from 18 months in the reformatory to seven years in Kingston penitentiary were passed on six men convicted on various charges during the county criminal court sessions last week, when they appeared before His Honour Judge E. F. Lazier this morning.

Pleads For Companion A plea for his partner in crime was made by Joseph Conforti, [top picture] on behalf of John Sutherland, in which he asked that Sutherland be given a suspended sentence. Both men are from Toronto.

"If Sutherland is sent to the reformatory he'll come out a thief," Conforti said. He added, "That's where I got my experience and once your record is started it comes up every time a man makes a move. If he (Sutherland) is not given a chance now he'll end up like me."

On his own behalf Conforti said he had tried several times to get in the army but that each time his "record" had caught up with him. His Honour, however, said that he did not feel that a suspended sentence in the case of Sutherland could be considered and sentenced him to 18 months definite and six months indefinite in the reformatory, Conforti was sentenced to three years in Kingston penitentiary.

The two men were convicted on three charges arising out of the breaking and entering premises of Christopher Sacks service station, possession of burglary tools and receiving and retaining an auto known to have been stolen on April 20. Street Railway Theft The longest sentence passed by the court was imposed against Alexander Boyko, [second from top] who was charged jointly with Roy Clairmont of having, on April 19, robbed John Walker of approximately $3,000 cash and $1,000 car tickets, the property of the Hamilton Street Railway Company. In passing sentence of seven years in the Kingston penitentiary against Boyko, His Honour said that in view of the seriousness of the offence he was "bound to punish you severely." Clairmont, 18 years, was sentenced to five years in Kingston penitentiary on the same charge. Reminding the court that life imprisonment with whipping was the maximum sentence that could be imposed on such charges, Harvey McCulloch, crown attorney, said that although Clairmont was "young in years" he was "old so far as criminal experience is concerned."

Long Record Convicted on charges of theft, Nicholas Freel [second from bottom] was sentenced to three years in Kingston penitentiary when he appeared for sentence this morning. In passing sentence His Honour commented on the long record of the accused with dates from 1928 and which records 12 sentences, "You must be put where you cannot be a menace to the community for a while," His Honour said.

Two years in Kingston penitentiary was the sentence imposed on Robert L. Harrison, [bottom picture] convicted of the theft of a motor car on May 7. Harrison, who was undefended at his trial, asked for the leniency of the court and said "I knew if I kept on drinking this would happen."

[AL: Conforti appealed his sentence, which was dismissed in July 1943. He was also sentenced in Toronto on similar charges. He had served a previous term in Kingston penitentiary, having been released in 1939. he also served three prior terms in the reformatory. He was a motor mechanic at the service station they robbed. He was 27, single, and an Italian Canadian. He was convict #7431 this time around at Kingston, and worked in the laundry, mailbags and kitchen - he had several reports on his name for misbehaviour. He was released in January 1946. Sutherland also appealed and had his sentence reduced to a reformatory term. Boyko was 22, born in 1919, of Ukrainian descent, a construction worker with only a single previous term in reformatory. He was also tried in St. Catharines on simiiar charges. He was convict #7370 at Kingston Penitentiary, and worked in the mailbags. In March 1944, he was transferred along with dozens of other inmates to Saskatchewan Penitentiary, where he was convict #4295. He was involved in a short lived but serious strike at Saskatewan Penitentiary in August 1944. He was eventually released on parole in 1949.

Clairmont was convict #7371 at Kingston penitentiary and worked in a young convict gang. He was paroled in 1946. Freel was 42, married, with six kids, and was unemployed at time of conviction. He had been in the penitentiary once before, released in mid-1942, and had also been locked up in the Barton jail in Hamilton. He was convict #7321 this time around, worked mostly in excavation and construction outside the walls, and was implicated in a trafficking ring but was never formally charged. He was released October 1945. Harrison was 3, a salesman for a magazine company, single, and a life long Hamiltonian. He was also a bad drinker, and this was definitely at the root of his two previous convictions at the reformatory. He was convict #7313 at Kingston penitentiary, and worked in the change room. He was transferred August 1943 to the low-security Collin's Bay Penitentiary, and was released from there in January 1945.]

#hamilton #police court #breaking and entering #burglars' tools #carrying stolen goods #robbery with violence #hamilton street railways #public transit #theft #car theft #car thieves #stolen car #without legal representation #sentenced to the penitentiary #kingston penitentiary #canada during world war 2 #crime and punishment in canada #history of crime and punishment in canada #long criminal record

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justmoreocs-writing · 10 months

Photo

Darkened alleyways were a staple of the city. No place for anyone to wander alone, least of all in the middle of the night. And yet, that was exactly what A.J. was doing. High above, shining brightly silver through clouds and the constant smog of the city, the moon acted as her compass point. As long as it stayed in sight, she knew there was a way back should she need it. Knew that she hadn’t strayed too far into the darkness of the city’s underbelly.

Movement out the corner of her eye set off every internal alarm A.J. had trained herself to listen to. Still, she wasn’t quick enough. An arm pinned her own to her sides, forced her back flush against the chest of her assailant. The cold sting of metal against her throat was an unnecessary yet habitual threat.

‘The Labyrinth ain’t a place for a nice young lady to be walking alone,’ a voice whispered.

‘Good thing I ain’t a nice young lady then, isn’t it?’ A.J. countered, shifting ever so slightly. A saccharine smile slipped easily onto her face when her attacker was in view, however limited.

No matter how many people were scared of William Yates, renowned criminal king of the back alleys, he would always be Billy to her. Her friend who told her stories of highwaymen and pirates when she couldn’t sleep. The boy who had helped her fight off her own nightmares, as if that might help stop his own from creeping up on him.

The knife was removed in an instant, the arm across holding her close lingered though. ‘Amy, I’m serious.’

A.J. quickly stepped away from Billy. In the dim light of the alley it was still easy to see how blond his hair was from a day in the sun; a day pretending he wasn’t the young man so many were afraid of. In the light of day, he was just another person living his life. Even this late, it was possible to make out the blue of his eyes as they skittered across her face, checking for signs of distress. His expression, usually a mask of cold indifference that was occasionally more threatening than any violence, was that of grave concern.

‘So am I,’ she assured him. ‘Or do you forget who trained me?’ She cocked her head to one side, noticed him flinch ever so slightly. Everyone knew Bruce. It was impossible not to, and the reminder of her tutor in all things self-preservation was not one he needed. ‘Anyway, who’d do anything if I threw your hat into the ring?’

Billy groaned, slipped his knife safely back into the sheath on his hip. Still, his eyes were watchful around the back alleys, taking in everything. ‘Pretty sure my name alone doesn’t stop a knife in the back.’

‘But they’d feel really bad about it.’

‘Amy,’ he complained, but she heaved a sigh; held her hands up in mock surrender.

‘All right,’ she conceded. ‘Next time I want to see my best friend, I’ll leave a message with your secretary. How’s Ramsey doing?’

A soft scoff, a little of the tension having ebbed away from the line of Billy’s shoulders, was enough to assure her she’d gauged the situation right.

‘You know, getting a secretary wouldn’t be so bad,’ Billy said, nodding briefly down the alleyway, allowing her to walk a little ahead of him. ‘They’d be able to get rid of people I didn’t want to see, right?’

‘You can do that all by yourself,’ she teased, glancing back at him knowingly. But, before he could even attempt to defend his criminal honour, she turned her attention to the lighter in her pocket. ‘You’re not too busy to go for a walk with your friend, are you?’

‘For you Amy, never,’ he assured her, moving to walk a little closer to her side, all the while giving her the space she needed. And she needed this now more than before. Needed to be with someone simple, someone who understood. Because despite everything Billy was that for her. Someone that she didn’t have to act around, and she hoped she was that kind of respite for him, too.

#Repost #Made By Me #Drabble #Nightwing OCs #The Making of a Hero #Amelia Jane Kane #William Yates #A.J. Kane #Billy Yates #A.J. Kane & Billy Yates

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dyns33 · 2 years

Text

The Moms

So I’m posting it but this is awful

"Sensei."

"Kid, for the last time, just because Red talks about the old bastard saying 'sensei' doesn't mean you have to call me that. I'm giving you advice and some techniques so you won't get hurt, but the others are helping too."

"Okay. But, Sensei, are Daredevil and the Punisher together ?"

Y/N looked at Peter for a long time. With their mask on, the spider couldn't see their expression, but he started to sulk when Y/N burst out laughing, clutching their bellies at how funny they thought it was.

Red and Frank. Together.

Nah.

Impossible.

Not that Y/N would find it wrong. The two idiots who sometimes helped them could use some relaxation, and someone to rely on.

But they weren't necessarily right for each other.

Frank was a criminal. But, like, a real criminal, who had killed a lot of people. Not nice people of course, but the code of honour of the vigilantes and heroes of the city specifies that one should not kill. Y/N never killed. Neither did Peter.

Poor Frank however had extenuating circumstances with his past. Sometimes it was hard to think straight when you wanted revenge and suffered post traumatic stress from the war. But he was kind to animals, especially dogs. And with kids. He was nice to Peter.

For that, Y/N had decided to give him a chance, they didn't try to stop him, without helping him either, and sometimes simply telling him that he could be nicer with the criminals.

Red was... Red.

It was hard to describe Red.

He was a tall guy with a ridiculous suit who was growling a lot.

Not a bad fellow, but a bit boring.

He wasn't talkative, or only when he wanted to give big moral lessons. Especially to Frank. But he had done it to everyone, at least once.

No, Spider Man, you're too young to fight, go home. No Deadpool, you're a mad killer, you're not welcome in Hell's Kitchen, go rot in hell. No Y/N I don't team up, I work better alone, go bother someone else.

Well, that hadn't really worked out, since Red was willing to teach Peter how to control his heightened senses, Wade was always hanging around, and Frank and Y/N sometimes worked with him.

But Daredevil often sighed when they were around. Little asshole. But not the worst.

When Red and Frank were on the same roof, it was always the same. Either they pretended to ignore each other, or they insulted each other. Like two teenage girls with a crush but refusing to admit it and not knowing how to flirt properly.

Maybe the young spider was right, there was something.

"Is that why you call them 'Mom' ?" Y/N asked, trying to stop laughing, to not upset Peter too much.

"No. A bit ? They treat me like a baby, but I know Mister Punisher finds it amusing. Mostly because it annoys Mister Daredevil. You're a 'Mom' sometimes too, Sensei."

"Watch out, kid, or your next workout is going to hurt a lot."

"Okay Mom."

"Run."

It was Peter's turn to snicker as Y/N tried to catch up to him across town. Even though they were fast, it wasn't possible to catch Spiderman.

The next morning, Y/N groaned as they got out of bed, all their muscles aching, but they had to go to work.

Their little job as a waiter barely paid the rent, but with their activities at night, they hadn't had time to find anything better yet. One day, later.

It wasn't so bad anyway. It was simple, and they met nice people.

Like Karen, Foggy and Matt. The heroic neighbourhood lawyers, who never refused to help anyone. Y/N liked them, they were their favourite customers. And according to Foggy, they were their favourite waiter. At least, Matt's favourite.

"Matty here is very picky, and he says your coffee is the best in town. I don't really feel any difference from the other coffees, but it's good."

"Thank you Matty." Y/N purred.

"Matt, please." Matt begged as he swung his cane at his friend. "And it's true, even if your palate isn't developed enough to scent it, the coffee here is much better than anywhere else, and Y/N brews it the best of all the waiters."

Matty kept blushing and smiling nervously as he was talking. It was cute. He too needed to relax. Y/N wouldn't mind giving him a hand.

Sometimes, although he obviously couldn't see, the lawyer seemed to follow them around the cafe, watching him intently. Weird. But exciting.

Men, women, it didn't really matter for Y/N, as long as they were attractive, interesting and nice.

Hard to know if Red and Frank thought the same thing.

From what Y/N understood, Frank only had his wife, who had been tragically murdered. They had heard of another girl, for whom the little Punisher had felt things, but it was not certain.

And Red. Y/N knew nothing at all about Red's love life. Again, there had been rumours. A certain Elektra, who was dead now. But nothing else.

Yeah, both really needed to get laid. Not necessarily with each other, if they didn't like guys, but at least with someone. Y/N were curious, they wanted to know.

"What do you think of Frank ?"

"About ? Why ? Did he do something ?"

"Relax, Red. No, he's been very good. I mean, how do you find him ? Physically ?"

"...Hell I know. In good shape ?"

"Not your type then ?"

"... What ?!"

Well, Daredevil was already starting to growl and they hadn't even talked about the delicate subject yet. But Red wasn't stupid, he probably guessed where this discussion was going. Putting himself in a defensive position, ready to flee, Red got angry on his own, while Y/N admired his cheeks turning as red as his costume. He was embarrassed. Cute.

They asked the same question to Frank who almost choked before asking them if they had lost their fucking minds.

"No, Red, he... He's too... He's an altar boy !"

"A what ?"

"He's too pure. Stupid. Kind. Idiot. Desperate !"

It wasn't really a no. Those were the adjectives a teenage girl in love would use to talk about her crush anyway. They could work with that.

The following weeks, as soon as they were all reunited, with the help of Peter, Y/N launched small remarks, to try to bring closer the two imbeciles. It worked, a little.

Red was obviously still uncomfortable, but he wasn't running away. After all, he was supposed to be the man without fear.

Frank was embarrassed too, but he was laughing and making fun of the Devil.

It was fun to watch them dancing around each other.

It would have been even cooler to be able to participate, but Y/N knew it was a bad idea. When he didn't need backup, or wasn't there to lend a hand, Red seemed to avoid them.

Frank had never seemed interested.

During daytime, at work, Y/N was having a good time with Matt. Anyway, chatting with Matt as they served him his favourite coffee. He was awesome, this Matt.

"Today, dear Y/N, we're going to need lots and lots of coffee !" Foggy said as he sat down at the counter.

"Oh ? Trouble ?"

"Tough business. Matt is nervous."

"I'm not nervous."

"He's very nervous. He hasn't slept in two days, although you can't see it with his glasses. It's worse than during the Castle case, you really need to rest, buddy."

"Castle ? Frank Castle ?"

As Foggy replied that yes, he meant the Punisher, whom they had defended during his trial, Matt's expression changed. He was more serious. Concentrated. His eyes fixed on Y/N, at least on their chest, his head tilted slightly to the side.

Weird. Red was doing that too, often.

"Do you know Castle ?" the lawyer asked, in a voice that seemed to imply that he already knew the answer.

"A bit. We see each other sometimes. He's not that bad."

"Hmm. He's dangerous, Y/N. Be careful."

This voice. That little growl. That mouth, that face. This moral lesson.

Shit. Red. Matt was Red. Shit.

That was why all the stupid vision jokes Frank made when they were on a mission. Y/N had never understood them. It was because Red was fucking blind !

Even though they didn't know much about Daredevil, Y/N knew he could hear hearts. He must have guessed, or at least suspected, who they were. And now Matt knew that they knew.

Awk-ward.

"I will think about it." they decided to respond by giving them their coffee before going to the kitchen, as far as possible.

They avoided the patrols the following nights. But Y/N knew they weren't going to be able to avoid the Devil for long. He had their name anyway, he could easily find out where they lived. Which he did.

Coming with Frank.

Because against all odds, Red had spoken to Frank. Great. And what about respect for the secret identity ?

"We need to talk."

"Nah Red. That's cool. I didn't mean to find out, and I'm not going to tell anyone, not even Peter. Well, Frankie already knows, but we won't talk about it either, I understand."

"I meant, about what you've been doing for a while."

"What ?"

"Don't pretend you don't know." sighed the Punisher.

Ah. That.

Well, at least they had noticed. Not that Y/N had tried to be discreet, otherwise it would have been useless.

"So I take it you don't like each other. Anyway, not more than friends, with no benefit. Well, maybe not friends. Partners in crime ?"

"That's not it." Red said, looking apologetic. "It's just not... possible. I can't condone his methods, and you, you... It would be too risky."

"What our Altar boy means is that we've already thought about it. It's tempting. But he is a pious martyr who loves to suffer by wanting to avoid making others suffer. Which is fucking pissing me off, because he's too naive and too nice, a hopeless case. You, you're in the middle, a bit of both. He doesn't want to hurt you, I don't want to rot you. What we have now, It's working, it's fine, so stop."

"...Stop ? Even though you... and I... Wait, you thought about that ?! You thought about that, and with me ?"

Hell, Peter was not wrong with the "moms" thing, they were his fucking parents, all three of them. Did the kid do it on purpose ? He was clever, the little spider monkey. He must have noticed too, that Red and Frank didn't really hate each other, and he must have seen how they were with Y/N.

After all, Peter was a teenager, he knew the behaviours of stupid teenagers pretty well. He was lonely too, even though he had his aunt, Ned, and his MJ.

Matt wasn't completely alone, but his friends certainly couldn't understand him. Not as good as Frank and Y/N, who were on their own.

They could be alone, or a little less alone, together.

Except that they didn't want to, because they were afraid of ruining everything. And they were stupid.

"But I want us to fuck, God damn it !"

"Language !" growled Red.

"What ? Everyone knows you chose this costume on purpose because it shows off your ass ! And Frank tears up his t-shirt all the time, that's an obvious signal ! We already do everything else together !"

"Touché, pup. But stop, really, you're going to freak out Red. The poor guy is going to have to go to confession afterwards. The last time, he..."

"Frank !" Matt barked.

"Pup ?" Y/N wondered.

Red growled again. He was almost totally red now, and he was shaking. Frank didn't answer, sighing as he scratched his neck, before smiling and snickering, which made Red growl even more.

With his ninja speed and natural grace, he suddenly lunged at the Punisher, punching him in the face to silence him, before smack his lips to his.

Just as quickly, he did the same with Y/N, without giving them time to react, then he jumped out the window, cursing.

Frank started laughing again, patting Y/N on the shoulder, kissing them on the cheek and following the Devil.

"We'll fuck another time. Maybe. If he stops being silly and you promise to not do any bullshit."

"You know me."

"Yeah pup, that's the thing."

On the next patrol, Red was very quiet and distant, Frank kept smiling, Y/N tried to pretend everything was perfectly normal, and Peter, smart little shit that he was, acted as if knew exactly what had happened, calling them "Mom 1, 2 and 3" despite their threats and reprimands.

#daredevil #the punisher #matt murdock #frank castle #matt murdock x reader #frank castle x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fanfic #frank castle x matt murdock #peter parker #matt murdock x frank castle x reader

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valwentinefics · 3 years

Text

Instincts - Helmut Zemo x F!Reader (omegaverse) 18+

Plot: Y/n, an unmated omega, forgets to get a refill of her suppressants, sending her into her heat while at work. Luckily for her notorious criminal and alpha Helmut Zemo is hiding out in the backroom. (Takes place after episode 4 of tfatws)

A/n: First of all I’m sorry, second of all I’m sorry, third of all, You’re welcome. This is my first time writing omegaverse so it’s probably not the best and I haven’t read an omegaverse fic in a hot minute. Sorry my smut is always so short, I really gotta work on that.

Warnings: smut, normal a/b/o things, possessive dirty talk, mentions of omegas being harmed, mentions of fear of being assaulted. (if i missed anything please let me know)

As an unmated omega, Y/n knew well of the dangers of the world. Everywhere she looked alphas lurked around looking for their own omega, a rare thing to have in this society. Although omegas were coveted and prized they were still at the bottom of the hierarchy and were expected to be subservient to whatever alpha marked them, a thought that terrified Y/n. Stories of alphas that harmed omegas were sickeningly common, and with everyone plastering on fake kindness in hopes to place their mark on her neck, Y/n was terrified she would end up a statistic.

Suppressants were Y/n’s saving grace, an illegal method to mask her true nature from the world and pose as a beta where she could live her life peacefully, something she could never do as an omega. If she were to get caught she could face serious time in a correctional facility built just for omegas to learn their place in the world, and so every day was filled with caution and fear.

“God I look like shit.” Y/n’s heavy eyes looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, the bags under her eyes deep and only looking worse due to the harsh fluorescent light buzzing away above her. The illegal suppressants had many side effects ranging from life threatening to mildly troublesome, but the one that affected Y/n most was the inability to fall asleep. Each night was spent tossing and turning, her body feeling restless.

Sluggishly Y/n grabbed her concealer, dabbing it on beneath her eyes, her hands shaking with exhaustion. She finished with a sigh, running her hands through her hair to remove any major knots. She didn’t have the energy to fully go through her hair, not seeing the point. She was hidden as a beta anyways, no one would give her a second glance. Y/n opened the medicine cabinet, looking for the white box of suppressants, only to not find it anywhere. Her stomach sank as she realized she forgot to get her refill yesterday. It would be fine though, she hoped. She had gone without them before and hadn’t gone in heat, surely it would be the same thing this time, but for some reason there was a nagging feeling in her mind it wouldn’t be.

Y/n grabbed her perfume, spraying it on herself. The scent was cinnamon, similar to her natural scent as an omega, but it had the slight acrid scent of being a perfume. She hoped that would be enough to convince the alphas she passed by that she was just a beta wearing perfume. It wasn’t something she used often, only when her overtired brain didn’t remember to get the refill of her suppressants.

“That's good enough, I hope.” Y/n mumbled to herself. She smoothed out her short sundress, the light flowy fabric ending at her mid thigh. It was her favourite dress, she felt and knew she looked cute in it. Y/n didn’t like to wear things like this often, she didn’t want the attention of anyone, but frankly she felt like shit and needed the joy looking nice brought her.

The walk to the flower shop had Y/n’s body feeling hot, however she assumed it was the warm weather, not wanting her paranoia to make her miss work. The flower shop she owned was Y/n’s only source of income and it wasn’t a bad one at that. It was common for alpha’s to come in and buy bouquets to give to the first omega they see on the streets in an attempt to woo them. That was another reason Y/n refused to accept her status as an omega. Every bit of romance was just disingenuous. Alpha’s only wanted to have the honour of being chosen by an omega, they didn’t care about who that omega was. However, Y/n was happy it paid her bills.

The day went by smoothly until closing time when Y/n turned off the open sign, the neon light no longer lighting up the darkening street outside. As she grabbed her keys to leave a sharp pain went through her abdomen, causing a gasp to escape her throat. She rested a hand on the painful area, eyes wide. She should have listened to her instincts, she should have stayed home, but she didn’t and now she was going into heat in her store. Y/n paced, her mind running at a hundred miles an hour as she tried to figure out what to do. She couldn’t go home, walking would be near impossible for her with her heat approaching fast. She would have to wait it through in her shop with no relief.

“Oh fuck…” Y/n groaned in pain, leaning against the wall. She knew she had to find something to eat to get the strength to get through this. With shaky steps she headed to the back, her hand glued to her abdomen as if that would alleviate her pain. As she approached the door to the back room her blood went cold, her nose picking up the faint scent of an alpha through the thick door.

She debated opening it. Her instincts were telling her to open it and get his help with the heat, her brain told her it could be dangerous. Eventually decided to confront him, to ask what he was doing and maybe for his help getting home if he didn’t seem too awful. With her keys clutched between her fingers just in case, she slowly opened the door, her body almost melting at the scent that wafted to her.

A man dressed in a long coat with a fur collar stared back at her with shock, the scent of pine trees wafting off of him. “Omega…?” He spoke with a Sokovian accented voice. It took Y/n a few moments before the identity of the dangerously handsome man registered in her mind. She had seen him on the news. He was Helmut Zemo, the man who almost single handedly destroyed the Avengers.

Y/n shook her head, forcing herself to concentrate. “You’re Helmut Zemo… What- what are you doing here?” She asked, fixing her posture to appear assertive and trying her best to resist the urge to submit right there. A mixture of fear and arousal was filling her body to the point where she thought she might explode.

“So you’ve heard about me?” He tilted his head slightly. “I needed a place to hide for a bit, I’ve been scoping this place out. You’re the owner, Y/n, correct?” Y/n gulped but nodded, worried about why he was hiding out. “That doesn’t matter right now. Why are you here? It’s not safe for an omega in heat to be out in public.” He scolded as if Y/n didn’t know that. It was odd, having the notorious criminal seem to care about her safety. She wondered what he was trying to achieve, if anything.

“It wasn’t my choice okay?” She snapped, a wave of pain washed over her and she slumped against the door frame with a groan. Zemo got up, moving to her quickly but stopping once Y/n had flinched, worried he was going to try something.

“You need to get home, where’s your car? I'll escort you there.” He said, his voice was strained and Y/n’s eyes couldn’t help but land on the growing bulge in his pants. He was going into a rut which explained his current caring and protective nature. Her mouth watered at the thought of having his cock in her mouth but she tore her eyes away, looking to the side to avoid him.

“I don’t have a car… too expensive.” She groaned out, her breaths growing to pants as she started to overheat, fanning herself with her hand.

Zemo let out a staggered exhale, running his hand through his formerly perfectly done hair. “What’s your address? I’ll bring you there myself.” Y/n was impressed at the amount of self control this alpha had. Even as his rut was beginning he managed to stay calm and collected for the most part, but Y/n knew it was hard for him, sweat ran down his forehead as he strained to keep control.

Reluctantly Y/n told him her address knowing he was her best bet at getting home safely. A whimper escaped her throat as she felt her slick begin to drip down her thigh. She clenched her legs together, desire seeping into every part of her. She wanted the alpha’s knot more than anything she had ever wanted before. She could hardly focus on what Zemo was doing, not noticing he had draped his coat over her and picked her up until they were already out the door.

Zemo didn’t breathe as often as he needed while he walked, trying not to inhale Y/n’s scent as he moved at a quick pace, shooting piercing glares at every passerby that dared look their way. He felt protective over the little omega. His cock strained uncomfortably against his pants as his mind filled with thoughts of mating with her, but he pushed them back, not wanting to take advantage of her. Arriving at the apartment building he used her keys to unlock the door to the humble apartment, locating her room and placing her down on her bed. Y/n took off his coat and offered it back.

“You can keep the jacket for now, I’ll come back for it once you’re done with your heat.” He said, quickly turning around. Y/n’s hand shot out, grabbing his gloved hand.

“Please alpha, don't leave, help me.” She whimpered. Y/n didn’t know where that had come from, but she didn’t regret it, knowing it wasn’t just her heat talking. He was powerful, respectful, not to mention handsome. Everything a good mate should be, even though Y/n knew mating with a dangerous man like him was out of the question. Y/n found herself liking the man despite knowing what he had done and not knowing him long. She knew he would treat her well during her heat, if he accepted.

“Are you sure omega?” He asked, not facing her in fear that he would pounce on her as soon as he saw the desire in her eyes.

“Yes alpha, please…” Y/n whimpered again, giving his hand a small tug. “I need you”

That was all he needed to lose control. Zemo turned around to face her, stalking to the bed as he removed his shirt, straddling Y/n’s warm needy body. Her smaller hands reached out, undoing his belt and palming Zemo’s cock through his pants. Y/n couldn’t help the filthy thoughts that flooded her mind, desire for the dangerous man’s knot consuming her.

Zemo let out a groan, taking off his pants and boxers, letting his painfully hard cock free. Y/n’s eyes were clouded with lust as she leaned forward, mouth open and ready to suck it. He tapped the side of her cheek with his cock, running his hand through her hair and gripping it.

“No liebling, this is about you. I can wait for another time.” He let go of her hair and Y/n laid down, watching the alpha as he took off her panties and put her legs over his shoulders, running his cock slowly up and down her folds and coating itself in her slick, the tip teasing her as it came so close to going in. Y/n let out a little whine, letting him know she was growing impatient. “I apologize omega, it’s rude of me to tease.” He smirked before shoving himself all the way in easily.

Y/n’s toes curled as she let out a loud gasping moan, throwing her head back in pleasure as he began to thrust in and out of her, the position they were in allowing him to reach every part of her with ease. His hands ran up and down her waist as he let out a deep moan. Y/n’s eyes were locked on him as he fucked her deeply, causing her to let out a whimper of pleasure with every thrust.

“Look at you little omega, taking my cock so well.” He reached over to cup her cheek in his hand, rubbing circles into the soft flesh with his thumb. “Does it feel good?” His hand dropped from her cheek and began to rub her clit with just enough roughness to send her over the edge, a loud moan escaping her as she came.

“Yes, fuck! harder, please!” She said between moans, her hands tangling themselves in Zemo’s hair and gripping it as she panted.

Zemo moaned as he re-adjusted her legs on his shoulders, picking up the pace. “This pussy of yours, it’s mine now. I’ll fuck you through this heat and every heat you have next.” He growled, hitting Y/n’s sweet spot, making her cry out in ecstasy.

Y/n felt warm inside at his words. Her pussy clenched around his cock as the stimulation from him rubbing her clit and pounding into her sent her over the edge again, panting as she came hard. He was good at making her feel good, and for once Y/n was glad she was an omega.

“Fuck, you feel so good clenched around me. Do you want my knot in you, little omega? Do you want me to fill you up with my cum?” He asked cockily, receiving a desperate whine from Y/n.

“Please, please, please!” She begged, the only thoughts filling her mind were those of need for his knot buried deep into her.

“How can I refuse... when you’re asking so nicely, liebling.” He spoke between grunts. His thrusts slowly became more sloppy and deep and Y/n knew he was about to cum.

With one last deep thrust Zemo buried his cock all the way into Y/n’s pussy, his knot trapping the two together as he emptied his cum into Y/n. She felt so full in a good way, her breaths heavy with exhaustion as she internally frowned at the thought of Zemo pulling out of her. His knot alleviated the worst of her heat and as she laid there sore and sweaty, her now clearer mind had no regrets about what had happened.

Zemo pulled out after a while, his knot going away. A smile danced on his lips as he saw the cum dripping out of her as he pulled out his cock. Y/n’s eyes fluttered closed as she moved to a more comfortable position on the bed. Zemo grabbed his jacket from the floor, dusting it off and draping it over the omega’s tired form. Hesitantly he hovered over her before pressing a soft kiss on the top of her head, deeply inhaling her scent.

Not wanting to intrude any more, he got dressed and walked over to the couch, exhaustion filling his body as he slumped down onto it, closing his eyes with a smile. He could tell he would need all the rest he could get while he rode out the omega’s heat with her. He was so happy he decided to hide out at that flower shop.

Tags: @peculiar-monstar @lovelyzabrak-meadow @captainsherlockwinchester110283

#a/b/o #omegaverse #zemo x reader #helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo #baron zemo x reader #zemo #zemo smut

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letarasstuff · 3 years

Text

Sass Queen

(A/N): This was requested by an anon, I hope you like it :)

Summary: First day of middle school and the first thing Spencer's daughter learns is sass. How are the team and her father going to react?

Warnings: Sass

Wordcount: 1.3k

✨Masterlist✨ ___________________________________

Anybody, who has ever seen Doctor Spencer Reid to his fullest, knows that he is a human reincarnation of a teddy bear. Well his daughter is just the same two goodie good shoes. Both of them are so innocent, whenever somebody makes a slightly naughty joke they are the only ones with confused looks on their faces. Penelope gushes over that more often than not.

“Do you have everything? Lunchbox, notebooks, schedule and pens?” Spencer lists off, seemingly more nervous than (Y/N) herself. After all, today is her first day of middle school. The thought that his child is growing up isn’t exactly sitting right with the doctor, but he knows that this is an important part of her life. It’s when the body begins to change and puberty hits you in the face with a chair.

“And you are a hundred percent sure you don’t want me to take you? Because Hotch won’t have a problem with me coming in a few minutes late.” But she shakes her head vehemently. “I’m a thousand percent sure. Dad, it’s middle school. I’m not a toddler anymore. Also, today is the day where the social dynamics are determined. I can’t be late, so I gotta go. Love you!” After a quick peck on her father’s cheek (Y/N) is out of the door, not giving him the opportunity to explain to her that all of these tween movies are nonsense.

Now her commute to school isn’t long, but the building is far enough away for her to get antsy. Countless shows and movies she watched with her Aunt Penelope taught her that today is the day where it’s decided whether or not she counts to the popular kids.

(Y/N) biggest problem is her being shy to no end. Asking a teacher for help in order to understand an assignment seems impossible to her. The shame that she says something wrong or she embarasses herself would be too much. So how on earth is the girl supposed to seem cool enough to sit with the other cool kids?

That question haunts her the whole day until lunch. Before the bell rings indicating their break, the class played a few get-to-know-each-other-games and filled some paper works for the teachers to evaluate their level of education.

Indecisively (Y/N) stands in the cafeteria, a tray with her meal in her hands. “Hey twat, don’t you know where to sit?” A girl approaches her. One glance is enough to know that she is Heather of middle school.

“Uhm, ye- no- I don’t know?” Is her not so eloquent answer. ‘Heather’ laughs. “Ah, I see. You are a newbie. You can sit with me and my friends, they will surely love you. What’s your name?”

“(Y/N), I am in Miss Huber's class.” “Oh, she is a nice one, be good to her. I’m Natalie and it’s my last year in this hellhole. You know what? I thought yesterday ‘Hey I’m in eighth grade now, it’s time to teach someone so my legacy will be kept up’ and now I decided you are my little protegee. Ok, so screw lunch with the others, I need to give you a crash course in how to be me.”

The remaining time Natalie uses to ‘teach’ (Y/N) the basics. “Ok, so to be like me, you need to stand up for yourself. No offence, but you don’t look like you are able to do that. This is the reason why I’ll give you some to go phrases to defend yourself in situations you don’t like to be in. Also I suggest you to just use them as often as you can, because everybody close to you should know not to mess with you, especially your parents.”

With Natalie by her side she is sure to become one of the popular girls and never will be messed with. The girl is ecstatic to come to the BAU and put her new learned skill to action.

“Hey, Baby Reid is back. I was afraid you forgot about us now that you are all grown up and going to middle school”, Derek greets her with the biggest smile. “I could never forget about you all, old man.”

It seems like the whole bullpen stops in its motion. It’s not that “old man” is a particular mean name, but hearing some sort of insult from the sweet goodie shoes is something they witnessed for the first time.

“Oh, I see. Don’t get ahead of yourself, shortcakes. And how was your first day? Do you already have some gossip?” Before she can get out another sassy remark, Spencer shows up.

“Hey Sweetheart. I thought you’ll go home after school. How was it? Did you make any friends?” (Y/N) smiles and nods. “Yes! There is a girl from eight grade, who took me under her wing. I don’t have to worry about being the unpopular one.”

“WONDER BABY! Can you tell me how your day was?” Penelope shouts over all of the people in the bullpen, who are not fazed at all. It’s understandable though, because a screaming Tech Goddess is not a rarity in the BAU.

“I don’t know if I can. Try and make me!” “WHOA!” Emily joins the conversation. “What happened to you? Are you now the new sass queen?”

Before she can stop herself, another snarky reply leaves (Y/N)’s lips. “Sorry, my fault, I forgot that you are an idiot.” This time the whole office goes quiet for real. But the girl doesn’t understand it. She just uses what she was taught today, so why are they so shocked?

Spencer works quickly and takes his daughter into an empty office. “I don’t know what happened, but I don’t want you to keep that attitude up. So why are you acting like that? We can talk it out, you are not in trouble, just tell me what brought this mood over you.”

His serious face confuses her. She just did what she was told to do. “Why are you mad? I’m standing up for myself, Natalie taught me how to do that. She said I’ll continue her legacy, because it’s her last year of middle school and wants someone to honour her. Isn’t that cool? When I defend myself and know how to do it perfectly, nobody is able to mess with me! No bullies and I’ll have the time of my life.”

Her father’s face falls further. “Is this about you being scared of being bullied? Sweetheart, is this why you are so sassy today?” He goes down on his knees to be somewhat the same level of height with her. (Y/N) actively tries to avoid eye contact. “Maybe?” She answers in a high pitched voice, the floor suddenly becoming way more interesting than anything else.

“Sweetheart, why didn’t you tell me? I know what it means to be scared of getting made fun of, I was in the same position once. That’s why we make a deal: Whenever anybody is mean to you in the slightest, tell me. I’ll sort it out with your teachers and the other’s parents. I know, your body and mind are going through major changes and it’s more than scary. Just keep in mind that I’m always here for you. Ok?”

Moved by his concern and speech, (Y/N) throws her arms around him. “Thank you for being so understanding. I’m sorry I was a mean tween, I just thought it would be helpful.” Spencer laughs lightly, a child’s logic never ceases to amuse him.

“It’s not me you have to apologize to, there are other people out there you owe one.” Groaning but understanding she lets go of him, knowing there it’s the only right thing to do. And she does it. Still, everybody is preparing for some oncoming sass in the near future, which is the right thing to do. Teen girls can really be mean.

Taglist:

All works:

@agentshortstacc

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl

Spencer Reid x child!reader:

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x daughter!reader #spencer reid x child!reader #spencer reid #x reader #reader insert #x daughter!reader #x child!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfic #derek morgan #penelope garcia #emily prentiss

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skei-seems · 3 years

Text

Professor Reid (PART 2)

(Click here for PART 1:) https://skei-seems.tumblr.com/post/642651570175148032/professor-reid

Summary: (con’t) After a steamy interaction with her professor on a school trip and a bad misunderstanding, Y/N tries to make up for her mistake when a new opportunity arises.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x (female) reader

Category: Smut [NSFW]

Warnings: Smut, Age Gap, Swearing

A/N: Thank you for all the love on part 1. Please like/reblog, I would really love to hear your thoughts and feel free to send me requests. Hope you guys like it! :)

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Spencer didn’t know what had caused you to change so suddenly, he wanted to talk but you were so good at avoiding him. He wanted to tell you it was all a mistake, that it never should have happened, but the other part of him wanted, no needed, you in every way. Prior to the trip he dealt with a bad breakup - his girlfriend cheated on him - and it had pushed him far enough to want your sweetness and innocence more than ever. If only you would let him talk to you...

A sharp wind of breath swirled into his lungs when he saw you that evening, you looked breathtaking. Your hair flowed perfectly around your face, and your body fit so well in your tight clothing, he adored that you always wore sneakers despite the rest of the group’s formal attire. He just couldn’t avert his eyes from this goddess of a woman.

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He was looking at you like a meal. Those melting eyes still sent shivers down your spine. Annoyed, you occupied yourself with your phone while the group waited in line. The booming music made it difficult to hear yourself think once you were all inside. The place was modern and extremely crowded, and the music more popular and recent.

The song playing was not to your taste, though there was something about the loudness sending vibrations through your chest, and the strong amount of perfume and cologne in the air that reverberated into an intense excitement in the pit of your stomach. Some of the group seated themselves at a table overlooking the crowded dance floor, the rest scattered out to join the dancing bodies or to get drinks. After getting a drink, you took a seat across from Professor Reid. He watched you tentatively through the first bit of the night, and you shifted a little your seat. Those penetrating brown eyes through his blonde curls had the tendency to burn holes in you.

You bit your lip, an idea had lit up in you. You downed the last of your drink and headed straight into the crowd, and joined their rhythmic movements. Soon, a good looking guy your age started to dance with you. He was cute, you couldn’t deny that, but he wasn’t... him. Nevertheless, it was part of your plan. Initiating phase two, you moved closer until you were dancing like you and Spencer had the other night. Your eyes wandered around until they landed on him, he was staring at you, eyes lit with a fire that you could see even from the distance where you were standing. You smirked, and continued moving without breaking eye contact. Suddenly, and without warning, the handsome stranger you were tangling with pushed his tongue down your throat. OK, none of that, you thought to yourself. It had not been part of your plan. Fed up, you pushed the horny man off of you and strode out of the club.

The fresh air was a relief like no other. Not even halfway through a night at the club, and you had already had enough. You rested against the wall of the building, a spot where there wasn’t a crowd of people waiting in line. Before you could make a move to start walking home, a slim body appeared in front of you.

“What was that about?” Professor Reid’s voice came out as husked, right against your face as he pushed both of his hands on the wall beside your face, trapping you between him and the wall.

Unable to conjure up an explanation in the closed proximity, you gulped and looked into those two orbs of honey.

You pushed him away, regaining some posture. “What was that about? Really,” you spat out. “What’s you-having-a-girlfriend about?!”

The bit of shouting had caused adrenaline to course through your body, your chest was heaving. He looked taken aback at your accusation.

“What do you mean?” he asked, his tone changing to a much softer one.

“I heard you on the phone in the cafeteria.”

He slowly took a deep breath. “That was my little sister, really.”

The look in his eye told you he wasn’t lying, you didn’t have to be a profiler to see that. For a moment you were dumbstruck, but the professor spoke again before the silence stretched too long.

“I did have a girlfriend,” this information came differently as you previously took it, when it was just an assumption. “I broke up with her not long ago,” he looked away, “she cheated on me.”

Guilt quickly built up in you, unlike it had before when you thought you would be a wedge in someone else’s relationship. No, this was something new, something mixed with shame.

“Professor,” you finally said. “I’m... sorry.”

The smart eyes studied you before he shook his golden curls. “You didn’t know. But if you think the other night was a mistake, I get it. It’s fine, we can forget about it.”

Hesitation and guilt kept you from telling him otherwise, your mouth just opened and closed. He pursed his lips, then called a taxi to take you back safely to the hotel.

-----------

It had been weeks since the trip, you hadn’t spoken a word to Professor Reid except for a few short answers in class. He seemed back to his old self. You tried, but each time you saw his beautiful golden hair and those god forsaken eyes, and those soft red lips - you could not forget how they had felt on yours - the slick feeling of hunger and lust grew from the pit of your stomach and rose up to your throat.

You were deep in thought when the door of the classroom swung open and pulled every student’s attention from whatever they had been busying their thoughts with. It was the head of your University, what on earth was she doing here? She searched the class and her eyes landed on you, “Ah, Miss (Y/L/N).”

Trying not to freak out, you hesitantly replied, “Yes, ma’am?”

“Could I borrow a moment of your time after class?”

Wide-eyed, you bobbed your head up and down. “Of course.”

She smiled, then looked at your professor. “Oh, and you as well Doctor Reid, my office.”

He immediately looked at you, but seemed much less alert than you had. Still, butterflies wove their way through your intestines at your mutual gaze. He broke the eye contact and nodded at the Head Mistress, with that, she left.

You wanted to communicate with him through telepathy. “Does she know?” Ridiculous, you thought, then cheekily added, “your ass looks good in those pants.” The professor continued with his lecture, you desperately tried to fuse down the blush that had crept up your cheeks and resumed taking notes.

Not until class was over did you remember the request of the Head Mistress. You didn’t even know where her office was, so you silently followed Doctor Reid. The two of you entered after knocking. She was sitting behind her desk with an eager expression.

“Please, have a seat.”

The two of you lowered onto the leather stools like two naughty school children in a principal’s office.

“We heard back from the university of your expedition. They said without Y/N, their research project would have been drastically insufficient.”

Professor Reid looked over to you and smiled. “Well I must say, she is one of my best students.”

Your cheeks flushed crimson again. The Head Mistress nodded in approval. “But that’s not why I called this meeting.”

Frozen in your seat, you awaited your fate. Could Spencer hear your heat racing from next to you? Why was he not this nervous?

“I called you in, because I have elected you as your year’s representative to compete against other students across the country in FBI preparation and criminal analogy.”

“Of course,” she continued, “I called Doctor Reid here too as I would like him to be your mentor for the preparation and duration of the program.”

This information was baffling you. “I don’t know what to say, ma’am. I’m, honoured.”

In truth, you were mortified. Hours alone, studying with Professor Reid? You could barely focus in class, but one-on-one? Impossible.

--------

You were dreading your mentor meetings. The schedule the head mistress had set up for you indicated twice a week, and that was twice too many. Most of them were in the universities library, and some in his classroom. Nervously, you strode through the isles of old books until you found him in the far corner. He looked perfect, like a beam of sunlight, so at home between the rows and piles of books.

“Y/N,” he smiled up at you. It was so easy for him to act normal.

“Hi sir,” you avoided his gaze and sat down.

Your study session went slowly, and with immense difficulty to concentrate. It was like he was burning you from the other end of the table, unaffected by your presence. Sometimes he would get up and grab a book to show you something, leaning over your shoulder to point out a certain word or image.

When it was over, you were so relieved you almost left without saying goodbye. You had started to doubt whether this was going to work at all, until you spoke to your best friend. Her advise was that, if he didn’t let you focus, why should you allow him to focus? You mulled it around for a while, and decided that it was either that, or you’d have to ask for a new mentor. But you knew that would raise question, or worse, hurt his feelings - which you had already done once.

From a distance, you could see how utterly childish the idea was, but he had not satisfied your need of him that night back at the hotel. You still craved him, his lips on yours, his hands over your body and him inside of you. You knew some part of him had wanted this too.

So, the next meeting you showed up in the shortest skirt you could find in your closet, and an oversized sweater. What was underneath was a mystery. Professor Reid’s eyebrows climbed his forehead when you entered, he had been reading a book but almost dropped it when he saw your bare legs. A smirk crept up your face, your plan was working.

Sooner or later you knew he would break, or stop you. Of course, he was a profiler, he could see the signs of attraction, nervousness, lust, and whatever else you could possibly feel for him - oblivious to the fact that he had the visible emotional range of a teaspoon. (I hope y’all got that reference)

“Would you mind fetching the following encyclopaedia for me?” He asked with a layer of honey coating his sexy voice.

You happily obliged and after searching for a while you realised it was on the top most shelf behind him. Perfect. You grabbed a chair and walked over to the section, climbed on top and reached your hand to the book, making sure your skirt hiked up. “This one, sir?” You asked, looking down at him. A low string of swearwords were mumbled from below you. Doctor Reid nodded and quickly looked away from your exposed bottom, occupying himself with tapping his pencil.

Smiling, you seated yourself again and started rolling the back of your pencil between your mouth as he explained something to you. His eyes briefly traveled down to your lips, then back to your eyes. He cleared his throat and adjusted his tie with those large, veiny hands of his - your thighs pressed together. He was making you squirm just by existing, literally anything he did turned you on. When he was deep in focus, he pulled his lip between his teeth or raked a hand through his loose curls.

You let him rest for the next twenty minutes, then decided to take things up a notch, test the waters, if you will. You two were sitting side by side, him facing a little toward you, each focused on diagramming statistics from multiple books, when you “accidentally” dropped your pencil between his spread legs.

“Oops,” you giggled slightly, quickly getting down before he could.

Taking longer than needed to retrieve the fallen pencil and getting down on your hands and knees, you slowly looked up at him from your position. His lips parted slightly, but he didn’t look away. From between his legs you spoke, “I’m so clumsy today,” and batted your lashes with innocence.

“I see that,” he said, the corners of his mouth turning up.

You got back into your seat, he resumed his work. Maybe your plan wasn’t working, he still seemed calm and collected. You sighed, and were ready to call it quits, when you felt a hand on your thigh.

When you looked over he wasn’t looking at you, his eyes were on the book on the table and his other hand was tugging on his collar. His touch was sending tingles straight to your core, and you almost moaned when he started rubbing circles on your inner thigh. Damn it, you thought, he was winning now. You didn’t want him to remove his hand, but you didn’t want him to have the upper hand either. So, you stood up - momentarily earning his gaze on you again - and sat on the edge of the table close to him, your legs dangling against his thigh that was facing you.

He looked up at you with suspicion. “You aren’t supposed to sit on the tables, you know.”

Your higher ground provided some confidence, you leaned in a little to him and in a whisper voice said, “We aren’t supposed to fuck on them either, how about we break more than one rule today?”

His pupils dilated and he pulled his lip between his teeth again, then abruptly stood up. “My office. Now.” He pulled you behind him as he lead the way.

--------

By the time you had gotten to Spencer’s office, your nerves had worked themselves up into snakes in your stomach. He was pulling you by your wrist, and slammed the door behind you once you got inside. You were pushed once again by those strong hands against the door, he kissed you. The feeling of his soft mouth on yours sent fireworks off behind your closed eyelids. It was bliss. You wove your hands through his hair, but he suddenly stopped kissing you.

“What makes you think you can talk to me like that, and tease me in a library full of people,” he whispered in a husky voice next to your ear, sending tingles down your back.

You bit your lip, the dominant side had come out again - and this time, you were happy to hand over the role of the upper hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Good girl, but I’m gonna have to punish you for that.” The excitement was building up between your legs at such a fast rate you were afraid it would soak completely through your tiny underwear.

“First” you said, and lowered onto your knees in front of him, “let me try to make it up to you.”

He watched you with his mouth open, and moved his hands to your hair. Smirking, you undid his belt and took him out, he was already hard. You licked up the underside, then swirled your tongue over the tip. This earned a loud moan from the professor, and an even louder one when you took him in completely. He guided the rhythm with his hands in your hair as you bobbed your head along his length, taking in what you couldn’t fit with your hands. You felt him twitch, then he suddenly drew you away and pulled up his pants.

“Enough,” he breathed out heavily, “I still want to fuck you.” His words sent chills down your spine. His hair had fallen into his eyes, his shirt and tie hanging askew - this messy look was your favourite.

You wrapped your hands around his neck as he picked you up and carried you you over to his desk, where he reattached your lips. You weren’t getting enough of him, even though your hands were exploring all the places they’ve been missing, until he grabbed your thigh and pushed his hardness onto your core. Electricity sparked between you two. A moan left your swollen lips, and he took this as a sign to continue rubbing onto you.

“You like feeling me against you?”

“Ahuh,” your reply came out as a half moan.

He put his mouth next to your ear again, “Wait till you feel what it’s like when I’m inside.”

His lips attacked your neck as he pulled off your sweater, only to discover you weren’t wearing a bra underneath. He clicked his tongue, “bad girl.” Shaking his head, he turned you around so you were bent over his desk. A hard hand landed on your behind. Instead of moaning, you inhaled sharply. “That’s it, not too loud.” He approved, and trailed his fingers up between your unclothed thighs.

You felt a little nervous like this, of course you had been fucked before, but never like this. But you wanted, and needed him so badly. “Sir,” you pleaded.

He chuckled, and rubbed you through your underwear, causing you to close your thighs around his hand. In disapproval, he separated your feet again and pulled off your underwear completely. You were left only in your skirt.

“We’ll leave this on,” he huffed, stroking the waistband softly.

The anticipation was too much. He snaked both of his hands around your waist and pulled you closer into a standing position. Now, his lips sloppily kissed into the crook of your neck as his hand moved down your stomach. A gasp left your mouth when his hand reached down there, slowly rubbing your sensitive part. Your body was squirming against his hand, and his free one came up to your throat.

“Tell me what you want,” he breathed against your cheek.

“I-” you moaned again when his finger started rubbing faster, “-I want you inside of me!”

He smiled, “That’s what I like to hear.”

His fingers left your soaking area, causing you to moan at the loss of contact. You heard him fumbling with his pants again, then felt his bare harness stroke against you, which produced another moan. He bent you over his desk again, and without warning, slammed into you. Adjusting to his size was difficult, but when he gradually started pumping in and out it gave some relief. Your breathing was now coming out as loud sighs every time he dragged back into you, steadying himself by holding your right hip by hand and using the other to hold onto the desk.

“Faster,” you pleaded.

He swore and started pounding harder, in and out. Moans filled the air of his office. The fast rhythm was now building into a climax, you were getting closer with each thrust. You knew by the sounds coming from him that he was close too. “More,” you almost yelled. He obliged and thrusted until you were hitting the desk each time he pound into you. Pressure started to build up in your legs, you were so close. He grunted and continued slamming into you, every thrust feeling harder and deeper than the last. You moaned loudly as you reached your climax, the warmth causing him to reach his own. With a few more sloppy thrusts, he pulled out. You shakily sat down, out of breath and satisfied beyond what you had ever imagined possible.

“That’s my girl,” he cooed and kissed you once again after pulling on his pants.

Professor Reid looked at you with the same intrigue that made you need all this in the first place, and for the rest of the mentoring, this continued.

--------

A/N: I will be writing more Spencer Reid x reader, please send me requests (I will also write for characters from other shows/movies/books).

#professor reid #professor reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler smut #x reader smut #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #professor reid x reader #fan fiction smut #x reader

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fuchsiagrasshopper · 3 years

Text

Contending the Flame VII

Author's Note: Not much to say here, but the story's content will start to go up in rating after this, so prepare yourself for some wild changes coming! Thanks as always for being such a fantastic audience :)

Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Word count: 2336

Warnings: language, mentions of blood, master/servant dynamic

Victory had been claimed for the sons of Ragnar. They managed to secure their hold over York, banishing the idea from the Saxons' minds that they could ever again rule the city. Hostages had been taken, and through the blood and the rain, they had seen themselves suffer their share of wounds. All battles came with a price.

Ivar had acquired his injuries, most being from arrows. After he had been tended to by healers and cleansed of blood, the damage had taken its toll and the pain had set in. He was carried to his chambers by Ubbe and another warrior. Hvitserk had not been able to lend a hand as he had sustained a spear to the leg. When first brought the news of his brother's injury, Ivar had felt a stirring of worry, and hatred towards the dead Saxon soldier. For a moment he had wished for Hel to raise the dead once more if it meant he could feed the Christian his axe. He did not want to lose another member of his family, not after his mother or even Sigurd.

The pains of war felt like a bizarre punishment after the glorious charge he had led. His body betrayed him, reminding him of his humility as a cripple once the agony of his legs joined with the burning of his battle wounds. He remembered little of the healers prodding at him and had fallen into a restless sleep, halfway between consciousness and oblivion.

When he came around again, he was roused by the smell of flowers in the dead of night. A fire was burning low in the hearth, and as he turned his head towards the table at his side, a clay vase had been filled with those familiar purple blooms. They had a delicate, sweet smell, the likes of which he had never seen around Kattegat. The harsh winters of home were something he doubted they could have withstood.

Ivar shifted carefully, trying to sit up when he took notice of the dip in the bed beside him. You were above the furs, sitting upright with your back against the wall at the head of the bed. Ólaug, or Catherine; he wasn't certain what to call you. You must have meant to sit down only for a moment but had fallen asleep instead. His eyes traced over the restful look on your face, a pleasant change from the terror that had been there the last time.

Remembering everything Hvitserk had told him, he was brought back to a state of frustration. He didn't want your fear, he wanted your admiration. You had passion when you spoke with him, something that had been driven out by this treacherous spy.

Ivar brought his attention back to his sleeping nun, taking in the rest of you. His gaze was drawn to the particular detail of your exposed calf. Your frock had ridden up to your knee, leaving your lower leg open to the air. He often found himself mesmerized by the beauty of women's legs, admitting only to himself that it was because of his disgust for his own. The smooth curve of your calf met a delicate ankle, that extended to a long, narrow foot.

He wanted to feel the heat of your soft skin, and there was no battle with temptation as he brought his hand towards the exposed flesh. His rough knuckles dragged down on your smooth skin like hail against a silk sheet. The sensation was heady, and the walls of the room felt closer from the rush of lust. Ivar was emboldened. He wrapped his hand around your ankle, forgetting from your time as his thrall that you were a light sleeper.

Your head that had been tucked into your chest jerked up, and you lurched forward, startled awake by his hand. Your eyes met and Ivar could see the same fear there that took hold of an animal before it was about to bolt away. He wasn't going to tolerate that. In no mood or condition to chase you, Ivar tightened his hold on your ankle and tugged you down on the bed with harsh force. You let out a sharp gasp, unable to collect yourself before he had you trapped below him. Everything hurt, but he struggled through the discomfort as he held himself up by his arms above you.

"I did not invite you to share my bed, Christian."

"My apologies," You sputtered. "I'm only here because your brothers do not know which slaves they can trust."

Ivar let out a huff of annoyance, unadjusted to his brothers' concerns for his well-being. It was behaviour he had come to expect from his mother, and maybe Floki. "Right, a spy who is a threat to my life, and whispers in your ear."

Your eyes that had been downcast returned to his face. "Hvitserk told you?"

"My brothers tell me everything. You were mistaken to think otherwise."

He reached for your arm between them, the one covered with the cloth bandage. You were quick to snatch it away, your face coloured in shame. Ivar brought his hand up to your cheek instead, stroking below the bruise that he had yet to get a full explanation. "Stop that, please," You whispered.

"You believe I'll hurt you, even after I've shown to be generous towards you."

"But I am only a slave, and I mean nothing to you. If you killed your brother, what chance do I have of being spared?"

Ivar frowned. It seemed the spy had filled you in on more than just the Bishop. "You know about Sigurd?"

You nodded. "I know you murdered him, like Cain slew Abel."

He did not know of these men for whom you spoke of, but he had the unfortunate feeling that the comparison was not of flattery. Now that you knew things about him that he would not have shared likely, he felt at a disadvantage. He eased away from you, only for you to let out a cry of surprise as he pulled back.

"Ivar," You exclaimed, shoving your palm at the center of his chest so he would lie back down.

He spotted or rather felt what you had seen. It seemed one of his wounds had opened up on his side, the blood leaving a cold, damp stain on his tunic. You leapt up and over him, setting to work on filling a bowl with water. Your fast pace that you had set was dizzying. Ivar watched as you opened up the leather pouch that had been abandoned on the table until now. It contained healing supplies. Your lack of hesitation for what you grabbed proved you were capable, and you were back at his side without pause.

"Off with this, please," You instructed him to shed his tunic, and you had water touching skin the moment he had discarded the soiled clothing. "Look what you've done."

Ivar had never seen you look so disapproving. It was endearing. That you had scolded him by name had not slipped past his notice. "Ivar?"

You paused long enough in your work for your eyes to widen with understanding. "Oh, forgive me. I should not have been so bold."

He turned more towards you while you continued to work, giving a small shrug in response. "It is my name, and I am no longer your master. Perhaps you should cease with formalities."

"No, it wouldn't be proper. You are still a Prince, and leader of an army."

"Then I must insist on calling you Ólaug."

He let out a hiss as you took the needle to his skin, halting only a moment to let him adjust to the discomfort before moving to close the wound. You shot him a small smile, and he grunted from time to time with each passing of the point through his flesh.

"But that's not my name," You insisted as you tied off the end of the stitch, cutting away the remainder of the loose thread with a small knife.

"And it isn't Catharine," Ivar shot back. "So tell me, who are you?"

You sat back on your chair, resting your hands in your lap. They were pink and red from his blood, with dark grime under your short nails. A healer's hands. His own were rough and stained with blood, but from taking lives, not saving them.

"Why is my old name so important? This is the second time you've asked it from me."

"I've never known someone to abandon their name. Your God asks strange things of you."

"As I'm sure yours do as well," You said with no unkindness in your tone. "May I ask about the markings on your back?"

"Your men do not have tattoos?"

You shook your head, eyes wide and full of curiosity. "The body is meant to be untainted, and we should be satisfied with what God gave us."

And yet they made women cut their hair before entering a nunnery. Ivar did not say as much. You were finally allowing your guard to slip, falling back into another one of your conversations that he'd missed.

"We do not read or write in books as you do, but we preserve our stories in runes and symbols. Tattoos are just another way to honour the Gods."

"Did they hurt?"

Ivar let out a gruff laugh. "I was born into suffering. I hardly remember what it felt like to have the colours bleed under my skin. But any sacrifice to the Gods is a privilege, be it in pain, or a life."

"I don't understand how your gods could demand the life of their people," You said, a distraught look falling over you.

"And I don't understand why you Christians nail your people up on crosses."

"It is an act of punishment and humiliation for the criminal. It should dissuade others from committing the same sins."

Ivar smirked. "But we're the savages?"

"I don't claim to be a delegate for all Christians, but I don't believe you are savages. I sometimes think we are similar."

Viking and Christian alike; impossible. "You are naive to think that."

"Maybe so," You said, coming to a stand as you started to clean up your supplies. "But this fighting for York could have been prevented if the King had settled on negotiations with you and your brothers. Our holy Father blessed us all with free will, and we chose to fight and kill, just as your people have."

"A war is a strange place to search for peace," He retorted.

You let a chuckle escape, turning to him with a face flooded in pink. It was beautiful. "Indeed."

There was a prolonged stretch of silence, neither one of them filling it until you returned to sit at the foot of the bed. Ivar liked to think you were comfortable enough in his presence for the moment that you had not felt the need to fill it with empty words.

"Is peace what you want for your people?" He prodded while shifting underneath the furs.

"I'm not in a position to speak on such matters as this is the most exposure I've seen of battle. I suppose peace is better than tending to bloody men, and women waiting at home for husbands and sons who will never return."

"And what about you? If you could wish for anything in this world, what would it be?"

Your face turned to weariness, and for a moment he suspected he had offended you. He would have offered to take the words back if it would have helped, but you chose to answer.

"I wish I was happy," You said in a voice so low that Ivar had almost missed what you had said. But he had heard, to which he frowned in confusion. "You thought I would ask for freedom?"

"Isn't that what all those in enslavement hope for?" He rebuked.

"Before I was captured by you heathens, I was still a prisoner. This is just a different cage."

"I thought being a nun was an honour?" He couldn't help but sneer the words, but you did not appear dismayed.

"When I joined the convent, it was for a sense of duty. It brought me contentment, but there was no joy in my days."

You brought your legs up onto the furs, settling in without regard of whom you were close to. Ivar was pleased by your unintentional behaviour, mesmerized by your fingers as you trailed them through the thick pelted covers.

"I don't understand," He spoke up eventually, long enough to break his concentration on your stroking of the furs.

"Of course you don't. You are a man, a Viking, and a prince. Your life was marked with freedom of choice the moment you drew breath. If I was granted freedom this very moment, where would I go?"

'With me', he thought but did not say the petulant thought aloud. If it was happiness you desired, then he would give it to you.

"I've intruded on you long enough. Would you like me to leave?" You enquired, moving to stand.

"No, stay," he commanded without thinking, and the harshness of his voice caused you to flinch. Taking a quick breath through his nose, he tried again. "Tell me about Cain and Abel."

You eased back onto the bed, choosing to stay out of arm's reach as you delved into your tale. Ivar listened, enraptured by the passion that took over you in the telling. His own heart was beating with a different excitement, and he wondered how much longer he could keep his adoration from you. You were a Christian disguised in heavy frocks and gaudy crosses, but beneath all of that lurked a free woman longing to burst forth, and Ivar was going to draw her out.

Taglist

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#ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x you #ivar lothbrok #vikings imagine #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #history vikings #ivar imagine #vikings

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turnaboutyandere · 2 years

Note

In the courtroom rival au, i have a really vivid idea for a story for s/o and why they may potentially dislike barok.

Imagine: they worked their way up a bit like gina to becoming an attorney, barely living off some of their talents (perhaps art? Maybe writing?) Theyve seen the worst in people, and het opt to defend them, quite the noble thing...

And naturally they dislike the nobles this for setting up a system that causes such suffering, so seeing one flaunting a wine bottle that could lift many of their sisters and brothers out of poverty mid trial would spark some righteous envy or jealously...

While perhaps on the other side of the courtroom, awe has sent barok stunned.

Someone of such lower class dueling in court and in some cases perhape, winning? Its remarkable, honourable, impossible.

So impossible, that he needs to look into how it could be.

One issue: they hate him, so direct information will be impossible to get.

And thus, the spiral starts...

Attempts of gaining affection, connections used, anything to understand how this supposed commoner managed to gain such skill.

Turns out it was natural born talent, unlike his own developing obsession.

(Hi! Im a big lurker, and one of mod miles anons (specifically 🌌) :) i really enjoy your work!)

Hello, 🌌 Anon! It’s nice to have you here and I hope you enjoy your stay. I’m sorry it took me so long to get to your ask, though.

In regards to your idea, I think it’s spot on!

If S/O grew up extremely poor and had to struggle their whole life to get where they are, then I can see why they’d resent Barok so much. He was born into a wealthy, noble family, so his success in life was always guaranteed. He also comes off as very cold and full of himself, and is very wasteful with things most people could only ever dream of affording, which gives them even more of a reason to dislike him.

In a way, he sort of represents what S/O hates about society: how those with wealth and connections have a far greater chance of getting a good education and job than everyone else. They’re privileged, with many of them looking down on the lower class simply because they were born poor, and they often exploit them as well.

It’s understandable why S/O, someone who’s had to fight tooth and nail their entire life with nothing but their intelligence and determination, would hate Barok.

But that’s not to say that the feeling is mutual.

On the other side of things, we have Barok who, just as you said, would be in awe of S/O. While he may be privileged and arrogant, that doesn’t mean he can’t recognize all the work they must’ve put in to get where they are now.

They grew up in poverty with no guarantee that they’d live to see adulthood, and yet... They managed to leave their old life behind and become a prodigy, all so they could help clear the streets of criminals and defend those with no one on their side. It’s truly admirable.

And Barok desperately wants to get to know them. He’s seen the way they interact with their clients, he knows how kind and gentle they are, and he wants, more than anything, to have that kindness directed towards him as well. But they hate him. Every look sent his way is a harsh glare instead of the soft gaze he craves so much, every word spoken to him sounds either angry or dismissive, and it hurts.

It hurts to know that the only light in his life, so warm and welcoming to everyone else, will burn him if he gets too close. But that doesn’t mean he’ll give up easily. He refuses to accept the way things are, and is determined to change S/O’s opinion of him so that they will one day see him as a lover instead of an enemy.

But he only has so much patience, and S/O’s hatred of him doesn’t seem to be dwindling in the slightest. So really, it’s only a matter of time before he snaps and decides to take matters into his own hands...

TL;DR Money is the root of all evil /j

(Wow, I really went off there, didn’t I? Not surprising, though, since my simping for this man is off the charts lol. But anyway, this was a fun ask to read and answer 😊)

______

- Mod Dollie

#🌌 anon #letters to the mod

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ibijau · 3 years

Text

You’re a marked man, brother

A new ghost king emerges, and promptly marries a god A martial god's temples are being targeted by the Magpie King and it is up to Lan Xichen to deal with all this trouble

I am 100% blaming the xisang discord for this, since a large part of the plot was brought up by other people

This is a tgcf AU, not a crossover, so while I'm using some of the same settings and general rules, the characters front tgcf won't appear. I also don't think it's all that necessary to have read tgcf to enjoy and understand the story (I'm personally still just going through book 3) but since this is inspired by a certain arc in the novel, I guess this could count as spoilers.

Also on AO3

The news that a new ghost king had emerged from Tonglu mountain, thirteen years after its gates had last opened, spread like wildfire among ghosts and gods. Everyone stood anxiously to the side, waiting to see what this new Devastation would be like, especially when the Magpie King was already out there, causing all sorts of trouble whenever the mood struck him. Everyone watched as this new ghost king went to settle into the eerie Burial Mounds of Yiling and established himself there. Although nothing terrible seemed to happen at first, everyone who had breath still held it, waiting and waiting. A number of bold ghosts and demons went to Yiling to offer their service to this new king, or to beg for his protection. Some he accepted into his new domain, others he rejected, all according to criteria that no one could understand.

It was almost a relief when, nearly a year after rising from Tonglu mountain, the Yiling Patriarch created trouble and destroyed some temples belonging to a martial god. Finally, the new ghost king was living up to everyone’s expectations, acting with the sort of evil intent everyone had expected, and the world made sense again.

As far as Lan Xichen was concerned, it would have been better if the Yiling Patriarch had remained quiet. It had already been upsetting to see that Devastation take root so close to his own territory, but then the Yiling Patriarch was obviously trying to cause trouble for Lan Xichen personally with these attacks. Although the damaged temples were not his own, in some ways it would have been less troublesome if they had been. There were only a few temples dedicated to his friend Nie Mingjue on the lands Lan Xichen was responsible for, but these had been the targets of the Yiling Patriarch, which seemed a clear attempt to create strife between them.

Nie Mingjue, whose domain was up in the North, was a god with a short temper who did not take well to insult. He would have barged into the Burial Mounds without hesitation if Lan Xichen had not asked him for a chance to investigate the matter before making judgements against the Yiling Patriarch. After all, just by existing a ghost king would attract enemies, Lan Xichen argued, and it wouldn’t be impossible for some lesser ghosts to try to get rid of him by sicking a heavenly official on him before he could become too powerful. After the initial burst of burning anger, Nie Mingjue agreed that it would only be just to investigate this matter, and allowed Lan Xichen to take matters in his own hands.

As usual for matters concerning the mortal world, Lan Xichen sent his brother to check on this matter. Although Lan Wangji was only part of the Middle Court, he excelled at dealing with this sort of thing, always finding the heart of chaos and untangling whatever mess he encountered while being careful of the well-being of any mortals involved. Lan Xichen could not have asked for a better deputy than his brother, and still hoped that in due time, being involved in chaos this way would give his brother a chance to ascend on his own.

Nearly a month passed after Lan Wangji was sent down to earth to investigate, and no news came from him. Lan Xichen, at first, did not worry. It was not unusual for his brother to get caught up with things and not update anyone on what he was doing. After two weeks, this was only mildly concerning. After three, it was odd. After four, Lan Xichen started to fear for his brother’s safety. It ought to have been just a quick investigation after all, and Lan Wangji had been ordered to report to his brother without attempting to handle the situation on his own, since Nie Mingjue would probably wish to punish the culprit himself. Besides, although Lan Wangji liked the mortal world too well and could be wilful at times, he simply never disappeared so long, not once in the several hundred years he had been around.

Terrified that some evil had befallen his brother, Lan Xichen decided to start his own investigation, helped (or hindered perhaps) by his husband who he thought needed a break from his official duties. Jin Guangyao complained at length about this, pointing to the piles of work he had to do, information to collect and organise, prayers to answer, outstanding mortals to check. He also pointed out that anything which might have caused trouble for someone like Lan Wangji would pose great danger, and being a civil god rather than a martial one, he would be of little help. To this, Lan Xichen countered that Jin Guangyao was an expert in collecting information, and thus would surely help finding what had happened to Lan Wangji. As for the danger, Lan Xichen was a martial god, so he could take care of it all and keep his husband sage. Jin Guangyao, knowing how stubborn Lan Xichen could be when he’d decided they were overdue a vacation in the human world, gave in and agreed to come along.

Their first stop, of course, was the dreaded Burial Mounds of Yiling.

It was also their last one.

At the foot of the Mounds, a ghost village of sorts had sprung, where those who had been refused access to the Yiling Patriarch’s domain mingled with those who had just arrived to demand such a favour. It was a grim place, filled with the unresting spirits of criminals, demons on the lookout for their next devious plan, and a number of lost souls too hurt to move on and rejoin the circle of reincarnation. And it was there, among those miserable creatures, that Lan Xichen found his brother hanging out with the ghost of a young man toiling over a nefarious looking pot of soup.

Much as Lan Xichen wished to run to his brother, something about the scene stopped him. There was something not quite right about it, though he couldn’t find what until Jin Guangyao, equally stunned, pointed it out for him.

“I believe it’s the first time I see your brother smile,” Jin Guangyao said. “Do you think he might have been cursed?”

And that was the oddity, of course. Lan Xichen, who knew his brother better than anyone, could recognise the signs of an implied smile on Lan Wangji’s stern face, but to anyone else Lan Wangji appeared impassible and colder than ice. To see him smile outwardly was something entirely unheard of. Then, to make it worse, the young man in black and red said something that Lan Xichen couldn’t hear, and Lan Wangji laughed.

It wasn’t a boisterous laughter, nor indeed a very loud one, but even at a distance there was no mistake possible when seeing the slight shake in Lan Wangji’s shoulders: he was laughing.

Seeing this, Lan Xichen could no longer stay away. He walked toward his brother, Jin Guangyao just one step behind him. Lan Wangji stood a little straighter upon seeing him, while his companion grinned at them and waved his hand.

“You’re not the sort of people we usually get here,” the young man said, distractedly mixing his pot of soup. “I’m guessing you’re here for Lan Zhan? Ah, gongzi, could you perhaps be his brother? You do look the same.”

Hearing his brother and him be referred to so casually, Lan Xichen had to fight a smile, especially when Lan Wangji, usually so formal, didn’t protest in the least.

“I am his older brother indeed,” Lan Xichen confirmed. “I had asked him to take care of a certain business for me, but instead I find him here with you. Might I be so rude as to enquire about your name, gongzi?”

“Where are my manners?” the ghost gasped, just a touch too dramatic. He let go of his ladle, and bowed. “My name is Wei Wuxian, and I am most honoured to meet you. Am I right in guessing you two must be Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao?”

Both gods instantly tensed upon hearing that name.

There were a number of ghosts who didn’t use their name, and preferred a scary sounding title that would strike terror in the heart of enemies and future victims. Even after several hundreds of years, nobody knew who the Magpie King was, and so it had been initially expected that the Yiling Patriarch would do the same. But the Yiling Patriarch liked to do things his own way, and was well known to dislike this title he hadn’t chosen, and to prefer introducing himself under his true name: Wei Wuxian.

It was a shock for this power ghost king to be this sort of a casual looking young man dressed in plain dark robes. Certainly Wei Wuxian was very handsome, but neither his face nor his easy going aura fit what Lan Xichen would have expected from a ghost capable of rising to the rank of Devastation. And yet, it wasn’t a complete surprise either. All the other ghosts and demons around were keeping their distance from Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao, instantly guessing they were heavenly officials, and thus a danger to them, but Wei Wuxian didn’t appear particularly impressed with them.

“I imagine you’re here for that business with Nie Mingjue’s temples?” Wei Wuxian asked, his attention going back to his devilish stew. “I’ve already told Lan Zhan when he came here, this had nothing to do with me. I’m not interested in making trouble, and I’d prefer to keep away from Heaven’s business.”

Lan Wangji nodded firmly to this, so earnest looking that Lan Xichen couldn’t help smiling again.

“Then Wangji should have come home right away and given me his report on the situation.”

As expected, although Lan Wangji’s face remained impassible, there was just the slightest hint of pink on his ears. He looked away, while next to him Wei Wuxian burst out laughing.

“Well, that one is my fault!” he exclaimed. “See, Lan Zhan and I met when I was still alive, and then again a few times here and there after I died, and we became good friends.”

“Good friends indeed,” Lan Xichen noted with amusement, while his brother’s ears turned a bright red. Lan Xichen exchanged a glance with Jin Guangyao who was also struggling not to grin now that he understood the situation.

“Maybe more than good friends,” Wei Wuxian admitted without shame. “Poor Lan Zhan was very worried that I’d disappeared for a few years in Tonglu Mountain, and so now that I’m back, he decided he doesn’t want to lose sight of me again in case I do more stupid things; And that’s how we got married. I really thought he’d warned you,” Wei Wuxian added, lightly slapping Lan Wangji’s arm. “How rude. I didn’t think I’d married someone so rude.”

“Being around the Burial Mounds makes it difficult to contact Heavens,” Lan Wangji said.

“Then you could have gone away for a little bit, send your message, and returned!”

Lan Wangji shook his head. “Where Wei Ying is, I am as well.”

That simple declaration had Wei Wuxian groaning and whining as if he’d been mortally pierced through by a blade, and he complained heavily that Lan Wangji was unreasonable and unkind and quite clearly trying to murder him with words too sweet.

Lan Xichen, at first, was shocked and disappointed to learn that his brother had married in secret, but ultimately decided that the decision made sense. Although he was only from the Middle Court, Lan Wangji was still a heavenly official, and so for him to marry not just a ghost, but one of such a dangerous level, was really scandalous. Lan Xichen dearly wished he could have been present for such an important moment of his brother’s life, but it would have been complicated to organise, and his own reputation would have suffered. Not that he cared too much about his reputation compared to his brother’s happiness, but Lan Wangji had probably wanted to be kind in leaving him in the dark.

As for the rest, if Lan Wangji believed that Wei Wuxian really was innocent of that incident with Nie Mingjue, it had to be true. Knowing Lan Wangji, if he liked a person he would stay at their side no matter what they did, but he wouldn’t close his eyes to their fault. If anything, had Wei Wuxian really been in disagreement with Nie Mingjue, Lan Wangji would have immediately said so to Lan Xichen so he could try to act as a peacemaker and resolve the situation.

“Will you be staying here then?” Jin Guangyao asked Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji nodded. “Hm.”

“Then we would do well to find a way to explain your prolonged absence,” Jin Guangyao mused. “Let’s avoid creating trouble for everyone. If Xichen agrees, I will go back and prepare an assignment asking you to keep a close eye on the Yiling Patriarch for an undetermined period of time. That way, no matter what others say, it won’t be a lie to say that you are here on official business.”

Lan Wangji nodded again, but it was clear he did not care much what others said about his decisions. Even after so many centuries in Heavens, he still had the firm belief that a person’s actions should be the only thing they should be judged on, regardless of gossip or social expectations. Lan Xichen found that trait charming and infuriating in turns, and so was deeply grateful to his husband for giving Lan Wangji some protection against those who would speak ill of him.

Having decided this, Jin Guangyao promptly left so he could take care of this, while Lan Xichen chose to linger a little while longer and learn more about his new brother-in-law. Since he had such an esteemed guest to entertain, Wei Wuxian abandoned his stew and the ghost village, offering that they continue this conversation inside the Burial Mounds. He’d only come to the ghost village because some of those who resided inside the Mounds had complained at length against his cooking and he didn’t want to bother anyone who didn’t deserve it.

"Then you are kinder than I might have been led to expect," Lan Xichen remarked as they traversed the village. "I suppose your mounting reputation might have more to do with memories of the Magpie King's early days than your own actions."

"Is he really so bad then?" Wei Wuxian asked. "I think I've met him once or twice over the years, he didn't seem so bad. That is, if it was even him. He never introduced himself, eh?"

Lan Xichen refrained a grimace. "If he likes a person, he'll make their life easier. If he dislikes them, they'd better start praying to every gods in the Heavens because the Magpie King will stop at nothing to destroy his enemies."

In fact, even heavenly officials weren't quite safe. Right after reaching the rank of Devastation, the Magpie King had taken a sudden dislike to a few minor civil gods and ruined their reputation so thoroughly that their own followers, ashamed of ever praying to them, had torn down their temples and burned their broken fondations. Since those gods had all been revealed to be corrupt nobody had really missed them in the end, but civic gods had lived in fear for years after that. Even the most upright of gods had secrets they didn't want to see revealed. Lan Xichen still remembered that Jin Guangyao had been terrified his origins would be revealed, and that his followers would turn away from him if they discovered he'd been born the son of a prostitute.

"Maybe it wasn't him I met then," Wei Wuxian mused. "The person in question helped me quite a bit back then, and I've always made enemies of the wrong people. If I'd met the Magpie King, he'd have hated me for sure, ahah!"

"Maybe yes, maybe not," Lan Xichen replied. "Nobody knows why he chooses to like this person and hate that one, so it's possible…"

Someone caught Lan Xichen's attention as they were about to exit the ghost village, a silhouette not far that sent his heart racing. Without thinking he abandoned the other two and ran toward the person, a young man leaning against a tree and deep in conversation with a headless monster. With trembling hands, Lan Xichen grabbed the man's shoulder, roughly forcing him to turn around so he could see his face.

"A-Sang?"

Assaulted this way, and by a high ranking god no less, the poor ghost shrieked and nearly fainted on the spot. He'd been given that fright for nothing, too. Although from the back the silhouette and posture had seemed to match, from the front it was clear that there had been a mistake.

"My deepest apologies," Lan Xichen said, bowing to the terrified ghost. "I mistook you for someone else."

"Are you looking for someone?" Wei Wuxian asked, coming closer. "An evil ghost maybe? We're family now, so I don't mind helping out."

"No, the matter is a personal one," Lan Xichen confessed, his cheeks burning at having behaved this way in public.

"Then all the more reason to tell me!" Wei Wuxian insisted. "Who are you looking for? An enemy? An old rival?"

"A friend."

Wei Wuxian looked surprised, though less so than Lan Wangji who had never heard of his brother having any missing friends. Of course he wouldn't have, when Lan Xichen had kept this matter to himself. Even Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao had never been told about this, so it would have been foolish to tell this stranger Wei Wuxian. And yet, if there was just a slim chance…

"Back when before I ascended, I had a very dear friend," Lan Xichen explained. "A few years younger than me, but we got along wonderfully and made plans to travel together someday. I remember he particularly wanted to go see the stone pillars in Wulingyuan. Before this could be done, I had to return home and deal with some things there, but as it happened, I ascended shortly after. I offered my friend a chance to join the Middle Court, but he declined for the present because there was no one else in his family to take care of his parents. He said he would gladly join me once they had passed away, but for now he was happier in the mortal world."

Lan Xichen sighed. To this day, he still regretted not having insisted some more.

"A little while after that, someone slaughtered the entire household," he lamented. "Even the children and the elderly were all killed to the last, there was no survivor."

Lan Wangji took a sharp breath, to which Lan Xichen answered by a sad smile.

"I know what you're thinking, Wangji, and you're right. It is the same as what happened to Nie Mingjue’s family after he ascended. It even happened around the same time, and the city was the same as well, so I think the two crimes were linked. And as for my friend, his soul was not among those put to rest after, so I believe he might have become a ghost."

"What was his name?" Wei Wuxian asked.

Lan Xichen laughed awkwardly.

"For how dear to me he was, I actually don't know," he admitted. "I only knew him as A-Sang. For some reason, I didn't even learn his last name either. As you can imagine, it has made it nearly impossible to look for him. Perhaps it's for the best anyway." Lan Xichen sighed. "What would I even say to him anyway? After so long, 'sorry' is a pitiful word, and anyway I am married to another now, someone who was fated for me. Still, I wish we could have had a proper goodbye."

Lan Xichen sighed again, in spite of himself. He knew it was selfish to still miss this person, and surely Jin Guangyao would have been hurt to know his husband couldn't fully get over that old flame, even after centuries. It was why Lan Xichen had never told him, nor Nie Mingjue who would have been upset on his brother's behalf. But maybe he should have said something, because sharing this secret made him feel a little lighter.

Still, this was a very grim topic to discuss with newlyweds, so Lan Xichen forced himself to smile more warmly and quickly changed the subject. Although the others were clearly curious, they understood this was painful for him and dropped the matter.

Aside from that brief incident, the rest of the day was pleasant enough. Wei Wuxian was an eccentric character, and maybe a little self centered, but ultimately Lan Xichen figured this new ghost king should cause as many problems as the first one. Wei Wuxian seemed more interested in experimenting with his new power than in causing chaos, and apparently his goal with those powers was mostly to see if the notoriously nefarious Burial Mounds could be purified. That, and shamelessly flirting with Lan Wangji, seemed to be Wei Wuxian's only preoccupation.

Still, a Devastation remained a Devastation. Although Wei Wuxian was friendly, it would be best to keep an eye on him.

As night started falling, Lan Xichen took his leave. He promised to come visit again, and at Wei Wuxian's insistence he swore he would try to bring his husband, though it would be an arduous task. Jin Guangyao wasn't found of leaving his work behind, and had little taste for ghosts.

All in all, Lan Xichen was in an excellent mood when he walked away from the Burial Mounds. But as soon as he was out of that place's area of influence, a panicked voice into his mind as Jin Guangyao shouted into their private communication array.

"I'm here," Lan Xichen said, surprised that his husband had lost his calm so thoroughly. "Were you worried because you couldn't get in touch?"

"Indeed I was," Jin Guangyao replied, already calming down now that he'd gotten an answer. "Xichen, you must return at once, the situation is urgent. More of da-ge's temple have been attacked, in his own territory, and this time the culprit signed his crime so da-ge went to confront him!"

That didn't sound like something to panic over, Lan Xichen thought at first. Out of all the martial gods in the Heavenly Court, Nie Mingjue was the most powerful by far. Ghosts, demons, mortals, or other gods, there was nobody he couldn't defeat.

Not unless the battle wasn't just a physical one.

"A-Yao, the person who attacked his temples, could it be…"

Jin Guangyao let out a deep sigh.

"Yes, Xichen, it is. Da-ge went off to fight the Magpie King."

#xisang #wangxian #there's xiyao so be warned but they're not endgame #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #marked man au

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