#anyway I hope this is helpful to anyone reading this and I hope it makes sense!!!!! sometimes I write these things and I have no idea

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

Spencer Reid x Read fic. Reid and Reader are friends, like best friends. Reader is always offering Reid donuts and listening to his fun facts and info dumps. It's one of those, they both like each other, but also are convinced the other doesn't like them.

Spencer is taking care of a slightly drunk reader whose grandmother called and asked why they're not engaged when they're younger sibling is married and expecting a child. At some point Spencer makes his ever classic comment about how it's safer to kiss and drunk reader, before being able to think, kisses Spencer. I hope that made sense.

OOPS I DID EXACTLY THAT

Safer to Kiss (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Word Count: 2899

Warnings: Mentions of food, drinking alcohol, mild cursing, outdated expectations of women, and lots of pining

A/N: Hi I wrote this in 2 hours and was extremely entertained, please enjoy and if you send me a fic request I'll probably do it bc this is my hyperfixation hobby right now and very much keeping the demons at bay xD @bxm-1012 thank you for dropping by my inbox! I am VERY tempted to make a part 2 of this, I hope you enjoy! c:

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The whole expiration date thing that women faced was, in your humble opinion, complete and utter bullshit. Here you were, slowly approaching thirty (definitely still told people you were twenty-five, when, in fact, you were actually twenty-eight), and the biological clock was ticking. No, you didn’t want kids. Not right now, anyway. Not when you were only two years into your career as a profiler for the FBI’s prestigious Behavioral Analysis Unit. Not when you still had tons of things to check off your bucket list - go to Europe, visit an independent bookstore in every state, pilot a helicopter. 

And you didn’t buy into that whole ‘once a woman hits thirty, her stock plummets’ crap. Not usually, anyway. 

But Nan’s phone calls always left you questioning your existence. 

Back home in Ohio, your little sister, Kendra, had just announced her pregnancy. Three years younger than you (ironically, the age you told everyone you were), and married to a power plant manager, Kendra was living the dream of a woman from the 1950s. You tried your best not to look down on it, to wish for more for her - but Kendra was happy. She’d always wanted to be a mother, and you couldn’t imagine anyone better suited for the role. There was nothing wrong with wanting to be a wife and a mother, to devoting one’s life to it. You reminded yourself of that every time you spoke to Kendra. You especially reminded yourself of it every time you spoke to Nan. 

That sympathetic tone your grandmother used when she said, “Oh, Button, you’ll find someone eventually, and you’ll be just as happy as Kenny” was like nails on a chalkboard. You resisted the urge to gag into your speakerphone and simultaneously rip your grandmother a new one. You wanted so badly to explain to her that you were perfectly fulfilled with your life. 

You helped lock up bad guys on a weekly basis, you wanted to remind Nan. Your brain was one of few that had been chosen for a task force that caught criminals based on their behavior. It was amazing, working for the BAU, bouncing ideas off of your colleagues, finding a family within this small group of people that spent more than forty hours a week together. 

Nan didn’t see it that way. She wanted you to be just like Kendra. She wanted you to have that white picket fence in the suburbs, with a broad-shouldered husband and two little tykes running at your feet. Domestic bliss just wasn’t in the cards for you, you’d decided. And that was okay.

You were still reeling from your conversation with Nan the night before when you walked in to work on Monday morning. It was Derek who caught the raging RBF first. “Woah, pretty girl. Pump. Your. Brakes.” He said, halting you just as you entered the BAU’s bullpen, holding a hand up to stop you. 

“Good morning to you, too, Derek,” You flashed him a phony grin, and he rolled his eyes. 

“And you’re grumpy this morning… why, exactly?” Derek asked, turning to walk beside you, essentially escorting you to your desk. 

“Because I’m allowed to be?” You proffered, shrugging your shoulders, not really wanting to talk about it with him. You loved Derek - hell, you loved all your coworkers - but he was not the person you wanted to go to with these thoughts. You didn’t really want to talk to anyone about it, actually. You just wanted to ride the cranky train until it came to a complete stop. 

Emily was returning from the kitchenette with a fresh mug of coffee and decided that the conversation concerned her as well. “What’s going on?” she asked. 

“Y/L/N’s wearing her cranky pants this morning,” Derek filled her in. 

“Oh, those so don’t match your blouse, Y/N,” Emily teased, winking at you with a smirk before looking at Derek. “Cut her some slack. No one likes Mondays.” Derek held up his palms defensively. “Alright, alright. Forgive me for being a concerned citizen.” 

“It’s appreciated,” You told Derek genuinely before setting your bag down at your desk. “But unnecessary.” 

It wasn’t until later in the morning, around ten, that anyone bothered you about your obvious bad mood again. This time it was Spencer, the one person you couldn’t possibly be annoyed with. He rolled on his desk chair around the partition that separated your workspaces, holding his hand out expectantly, like he usually did this time of day. 

Without speaking, you opened the bottom drawer of your desk and pulled out the white bag of mini powdered donuts that you always kept in stock. They were your guilty pleasure snack, and one of the first things you and Spencer bonded over when you started at the BAU two years ago. That, and the fact that you were the closest agents in age, was how you got along so well so quickly. Over several cases, varying in degrees of intensity, you and Spencer became really great friends. Best friends, actually. 

There wasn’t anyone else in your life that you trusted more than Spencer Reid. 

You opened the bag of powdered donuts and shook one haphazardly into Spencer’s palm, then grabbed one for yourself. Silently, you cheers-ed your donuts together, and ate them simultaneously, making weird-but-comfortable eye contact as you did. 

“Derek says you’re in a bad mood today,” Spencer pointed out with a teasing smirk on his face. A smirk, and white sugar blanketing his upper lip.

“Derek’s full of shit,” you grinned after swallowing your snack, the smile on your face totally facetious. “I’m extremely happy.” 

“I can tell,” Spencer snickered as you set the powdered donuts back in your snack drawer, closing it with a clank. You watched as he brought both of his legs up into his desk chair, crossing them like a kindergartner. 

The action made your stomach flutter. You’d felt strongly about Spencer for a really long time, probably a year and half, if you had to try and pinpoint it. But there was no use in going down that road with him. For one thing, he was your best friend, and you didn’t want to risk flushing the best relationship in your life down the toilet. For another thing, you knew it was one hundred percent impossible that he could feel the same way. 

“What’d you do this weekend?” Spencer asked, and you could tell by the question that he was trying to discover the source of your poor attitude. 

“Stayed home, caught up on chores,” You said, crossing your knees and leaning back in your seat, your expression telling him that you knew exactly what he was doing. As much fun as playing mind games with Spencer was, you decided to throw him a bone. “Spoke to my grandmother on the phone last night.” 

Spencer nodded understandingly. “Say no more,” he said with a chuckle. “She gave you the whole ‘when are you going to get married’ spiel again?” 

You nodded. “Unfortunately. I usually don’t let it bother me, but for some reason it’s just, like, lurking in the back of my mind today.” You shrugged your shoulders and exhaled through your nose. “What about you?” You asked. 

“What about me?” Spencer arched a brow, and you rolled your eyes playfully. 

“What’d you do this weekend?” 

“Oh,” Spencer began, pursing his lips for a moment, like he was hesitant to tell you. “I actually went on a date.” 

Your stomach flipped. “Oh yeah?” You choked out, forcing a smile. “Who with?” 

“That girl, Lisa, from the coffee shop, the one you told me wouldn’t stop ‘ogling my boy band hair’,” Spencer held up air quotes when he repeated your words from memory.

You recalled the cute barista from the coffee shop just down the highway from Quantico, a popular morning stop for agents on their way to work. You tried to stop the jealousy from turning your blood into fire. “How was it?” You asked, trying to resist the urge to sit on the edge of your seat, trying not to hang on his every word. 

Spencer shrugged his shoulders. “It was okay. She was very nice, but there just wasn’t…” he trailed off, gesticulating as the words failed to come to that supercomputer brain of his. 

“It was like a donut without powdered sugar on it?” You suggested with a small chuckle.

“Yeah,” Spencer agreed, nodding, meeting your eyes and smiling, mildly amused. “Exactly.” 

Spencer went back to his desk a few minutes later, and the rest of the day went on. It was quiet, especially for a day at the BAU. There were, weirdly enough, no open cases right now, so you spent the day catching up on paperwork, which there was always plenty of. 

You caught the elevator about ten minutes after five with Spencer in tow, and you held the door open for him. It was just the two of you as you made the descent from the sixth floor, and Spencer leaned against the back wall. “Plans tonight?” He asked. 

“Not really, no,” You said, shaking your head. “Why, you want to do something?” You asked. 

Spencer nodded. “There’s this landscape and nature photography exhibit at one of the galleries downtown,” he said. “Might be fun. There’s this artist, Milton Harvell, who takes photos of renowned locations around the world but zooms in on an obscure detail and gives the framed photograph to the person who correctly guesses the location.” 

You smiled slowly at that. You loved it when Spencer went off on one of his tangents. You found it completely adorable. “It’s actually quite fascinating,” Spencer went on, an amused tone lining his voice, making it sound lighter. “Kind of like a Where’s Waldo, but in reverse. There was this one photograph he took of the Louvre in Paris, but he zoomed in really tightly on a young boy enjoying an ice cream cone. He even went so far as to edit the photograph to make it look like it was a different time of day. The four thousand and eighth person to view the photograph was the person who guessed the correct location.” Spencer’s head bobbed and he was smiling like an idiot. 

God, you were down bad. 

“Was the four thousand and eighth person… you?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him scrupulously and allowing a teasing grin to cross your face. 

“The photo’s hanging in my living room,” he confirmed. 

You laughed softly. “Will there be alcohol at this function?” You asked him, and he nodded. 

That was all you needed to hear. 

— — —

You and Spencer went straight to the art gallery from work, sharing a cab rather than bothering with your cars. You immediately bought a glass of red wine, and began to follow him around the gallery. You weren’t an art aficionado, not by any means, but you enjoyed looking at beautiful things, and you especially enjoyed spending time with Spencer that wasn’t hunched over a dead body or trying to map out a killer’s comfort zone. It was a rare occurrence, so you tried to soak it all up as much as possible. 

Plus, your Nan’s words were still lingering in the back of your head. It’ll happen for you someday, Button. Men just don’t find you strong, career types attractive. Maybe you should soften up your look a little. 

You downed your first glass of wine within ten minutes, and caught one of the catering staff passing out champagne almost instantaneously after. The champagne fizzled down your throat as you strolled with Spencer through the art gallery, listening intently as he went on about each piece, rattling off whatever contextual knowledge he had. But you were a little bit biased; you could listen to him list different types of soil and find it interesting. 

After the glass of champagne came another glass of champagne, and by the time you made it to the main exhibit Spencer wanted to see, your cheeks were flushed. It wasn’t that you couldn’t hold your alcohol; rather, it just made you a little bit silly. Your inhibitions were lowered, just like it would affect anyone. But with your arm looped through Spencer’s and your Nan’s nagging message still in the back of your mind, you were perhaps a little more loose than usual. 

As Spencer examined the exhibit, you tapped your foot, unable to keep still, and scanned the open space. Your eyes landed on another patron of the gallery, a conventionally handsome man about your age, and you found yourself unlooping your arm from Spencer’s, subconsciously not wanting to appear taken. 

“Are you gonna go talk to that guy?” Spencer asked, and you snapped your eyes back to his. “Because you can, if you want to. Don’t let me stop you.” 

It was almost like he was daring you to. Spencer’s jaw seemed tense as you examined his expression, the way his gorgeous brown eyes darted from the man and back to you. “You don’t mind?” You asked, arching a brow, almost like a challenge.

Spencer shook his head, his lips pursed. “Not at all. I’ll wait here for you?” 

You nodded, and turned towards the man. There wasn’t any harm in getting a guy’s number, right? Your feelings for Spencer were a lost cause, anyway. Plus, as Nan liked to point out, you weren’t getting any younger. 

The man’s eyes locked on yours and he seemed to understand that you were about to speak with him. He met you halfway, and you shook his hand. “Malcolm Greene,” he introduced himself, and you spouted off your own name in return. “You’re not here with that guy?” He asked, jerking his chin over to Spencer. Your eyes followed Malcolm’s, and you saw Spencer with his body turned towards the photography exhibit, but his head turned to the side, as if he were keeping an eye on you with his peripheral vision. 

“Yeah, I am,” you said, and Malcolm’s head inclined to the side. “I am. I’m here with that guy,” you panicked, suddenly realizing in that moment that you weren’t interested in speaking with Malcolm. No, you had absolutely no interest in spending your time with any other man but Spencer Reid. “I just, uh…” Your cheeks flushed, and you stifled an awkward laugh, anxiously trying to come up with some excuse. “I came over here to tell you that your shoe was united.” 

Your eyes followed Malcolm’s down to his shoes, which were loafers. Laceless loafers. Malcolm’s mouth opened as if to point this out to you, but you managed to stammer words out first. “Ok, well, have a great night, goodbye!” You turned on your heel and marched back over to Spencer, your cheeks red as you reached out for his arm. 

Spencer furrowed his brows down at you as your arm gripped his. “I need another glass of wine,” you confessed. 

Twenty minutes later, after two more glasses of wine and a very watchful eye out for Malcolm, you and Spencer left the art gallery. You were awfully giggly on the cab ride back to your place, cracking puns and humming along to the radio intermittently. Spencer seemed to be amused, but more so concerned with getting you home in one piece. 

As he walked you up the stairs to the door of your apartment building, he was teasing you about your conversation with Malcolm, which you still hadn’t told him completely about. “I still can’t believe you didn’t get his number. You were talking with him for exactly two minutes and twelve seconds. What, in that short of an amount of time, could have turned you off to him so quickly?” He pondered aloud, a playfully mocking tone lining his voice. 

“Listen, I shook his hand! I had my fun!” You exclaimed, bursting into laughter as you leaned against the handrail of the stairs that led up to the door. “Good, clean fun!” 

“You know, the number of pathogens that are passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to kiss someone,” Spencer rattled off, and your eyes snapped to meet his. 

You don’t know what took you over. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the way the street lamps reflected in the irises of his eyes, or how you stood just a few inches away from him. Maybe it was his stupid tweed blazer, how he looked like a tenured art history professor despite barely being thirty years old. Maybe it was the way he smelled like pine and printer ink, a combination you wouldn’t have ever thought was attractive. 

But when Spencer said that, you stood up on your toes and kissed him. It was slow and innocent at first, until it passed the border into lingering, and Spencer’s hands found your hips, pulling your body closer to his. There was a cool night breeze that filtered through the space between your bodies, and by the time you pulled your lips away from Spencer’s, and slowly opened your eyes, you were completely red in the face and breathless. 

No, that certainly wasn’t the safest choice you could have made.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #basketonthedoorstepofthefbi #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!baureader

[joelscruff]

forget my charms (dave york x f!reader) 18+

a/n finally watched equalizer 2 and he's been living in my mind rent free! i don't really know what this is tbh, it was kind of a challenge to myself to try and write a drabble because i'm notoriously bad at keeping fics short & sweet. so i'm not sure how i feel about the lack of real story here but we go anyway! enjoy & please be sure to read the warnings! summary: your new boss gives you a memorable first day. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: fingering, lap sitting, power imbalance, infidelity, unprotected p in v (doggy), creampie, finger sucking, dirty talk, praise kink, tie used as a gag word count: 1.5k

You only met him this morning. It had been brief, his office just one stop of many on your guided tour the first day of your new job. Your co-worker had tapped lightly on his door, opened it a crack and told him he should come meet the new hire. Your stomach had turned when you'd heard him sigh deeply on the other side - you were already feeling out of place, more than a little like a fish out of water, and the concept of disrupting the boss on the first day wasn't appealing in the slightest.

But he'd been gracious. He'd come to the door and opened it wider, stood beneath the arch with an appraising little smile on his lips as he looked at you. It had been memorable, the way he'd taken your hand in his large palm and squeezed, peering at you with something attentive in his eyes, almost... intrigued. Welcome, he'd told you, it's lovely to meet you.

And now, only hours later, his fingers are in your pussy.

Pumping slow and deep, rhythmic and filthy as you lounge in his lap with your legs wide and your head resting languidly against the heat of his neck. He's got your skirt pulled up, one big hand spread firm over your trembling belly while he fucks you with his middle and index. The flickering blue of his computer monitor is your only source of light, showering his office in a dim glow.

You whimper and his fingers still, lodged deep inside your heat. He hushes you softly, strokes your tummy with his thumb and leans back slightly in his chair.

"Shh, sweetheart," he murmurs, voice low and husky, "Don't want the night crew to know what we're doing in here, now do we?"

No, you certainly don't. Can't even imagine what the reaction would be were anyone from the office to know you're being fingered by the boss on your first day. You bite down on your lip and lean back into his lap, look down with hooded eyes as he slowly resumes the slow plunge of his fingers. They're so thick, coated in a clear gloss of your release that glows blue in the light. He places his thumb on your clit, applies pressure, and you let out another pathetic whimper.

"Ohh, poor thing," he admonishes gently, "You want something in your mouth to help you stay quiet?" his hand comes up to brush against your face, "Hm? You need something to suck on?"

Your brain feels empty but you nod anyway, eyelashes fluttering as he wastes no time in slipping the middle and index of his left hand past the wetness of your lips. You suck immediately, closing your eyes and feeling them roll behind your lids as he fucks two of your holes at once, just taking, using.

Is this why I'm here, you can't help but think to yourself, did I only get this job so he could play with me like some kind of doll?

You can't quite believe you're even in this situation. You'd stayed late in order to make a good impression, still had some things you needed to figure out at your desk anyway. Everyone else had slowly trickled out of the office, until you'd realized all that remained was you and Mr. York. He'd smiled at you through the open blinds of his office, leaning back in his chair with his legs wide and his arms stretched behind his head. He'd brought one down when your eyes had met, crooked his finger as if to say, Come here for a minute.

You'd gotten up from your desk and entered his office, anxiety building in the pit of your stomach. You'd hoped you weren't about to be reprimanded for something you thought would impress him.

But he didn't reprimand you. He didn't mention the fact that you were staying late, didn't ask about how the job was treating you, if there was anything you needed, no. Instead, he'd looked you up and down again with that assessing, calculative stare and murmured, "Can you come sit in my lap for a little while, sweetheart?"

You suppose you could've said no. Probably should have, actually. That would have been the most logical thing to do - slam the door and quit your job, maybe even sue for harassment. Anyone else probably would have. But you'd taken one look at his crotch, seen the noticeably thick shape that bulged against his thigh, and realized he'd been sitting there watching you for who knows how long. He'd gotten that hard just from looking, assessing.

Fuck it.

"There you go," he breathes softly now, peering at you with dark and imploring eyes as he fucks your mouth and pussy, "That's a good girl, honey, I know," his brow furrows when you whine around his fingers, "I know, baby. You're doing so good."

He rocks you in his lap like you belong there, and it's impossible not to feel the way his clothed cock throbs against your ass. You want to see it so badly, want to touch it, taste it - but he doesn't give you the opportunity. Instead, he circles his thumb against your clit until you're shaking in his arms, hands gripping anything you can reach - the chair, your knee, his wrist. Your orgasm rolls through you and his fingers muffle the sound of your whines, your gasps, until your bones feel like jelly and your heart has slowed. He stills his movements again and lazily pulls all four fingers out of you, watches you breathe deeply and fall back against him with goosebumps rising on your skin.

"Get up now, baby. Bend over the desk for me," he tells you in that low voice, "Show me your pussy."

You pull yourself out of his lap on extremely shaky legs but obey his orders, inching forward a little to position yourself against his desk. You can feel his eyes on you as you reach back and pull yourself apart for him, show him where his fingers have invaded and explored, opened you up and made you drool.

"Juicy little thing," you hear him murmur, and then his belt buckle is jangling and you know what comes next. Legs still trembling, you keep holding yourself open and push yourself further down onto the desk, skirt pulled high and panties still hanging off one of your ankles.

He's filling you up in no time at all, cock plunged deep to the hilt and so much bigger than you'd anticipated. His tip kisses a spot inside of you that you're not sure anyone's ever been able to reach, and against your own volition you moan, low and long, full of pleasure and desperation.

You hear him tsk somewhere above you, "You really can't stay quiet can you?" He says it softly but it's full of condescension, like it's starting to genuinely bother him. Before you can apologize he's reaching down for something, still bottomed out completely inside of you as his arms and hands seem to do something out of sight. A few seconds later his blue polka dotted tie appears in front of your face, and then he's carefully settling the soft material between your lips, pulling back and tying it meticulously behind your head. A makeshift gag.

"Gotta learn to be quiet when I fuck you, okay?" he breathes, raspy and dark as he slowly pulls his cock from your pussy, only to feed it back to you again just as slow, "You don't want us to get in trouble, do you?"

No, sir, you want to whisper, but you can't. All you can do is nod slightly and grip the desk when he starts to fuck you in earnest, thrusting deep and hard before pulling out and doing it all over again. Your thighs quiver and shake against the cool wood, and as you lay there and let him take, you spot something out of the corner of your eye.

A framed picture of a family - his family.

You avert your eyes, turning your head slightly to see where his left hand is gripping your shoulder as he fucks you - you spot the wedding ring immediately. Christ.

But you don't stop it. You don't push him away, you don't leave. Even though you probably should. Even though the logical part of your brain is screaming at you that what's happening really shouldn't be, especially now that you know he's a married man.

You just let him use you. You let him fuck and fill you until he's gripping your hair in his fist and his cock is spasming and pulsing inside of you. You let him release his entire load inside your pussy, bare and messy. And then you let him pull you into his chair, tug the tie from your mouth and situate you back in his lap, still impaled on his cock.

Neither of you speak for a solid minute. He catches his breath while you try not to look at the photograph, to forget its existence entirely.

"The last one quit the first day," you hear him mumble, voice edged with tiredness, "But you won't, will you?" He thrusts shallowly inside of you, holds you against his chest as his cum starts to leak out and dribble down the hefty shape of his balls. "You'll let me do this, huh?"

What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

#dave york x reader #dave york smut #*

[coraniaid]

I read this post the other day and now I can't help but try to plot out a S3 AU in which Gwendolyn Post is just a little more patient (and maybe, as a result, she's not yet managed to get herself expelled from the Watcher's Council, so she doesn't have to worry about being exposed as a fraud the minute Rupert Giles thinks to make a single phone call).

A world where Gwen realizes that having unlimited access to a emotionally unstable teenage Slayer with no friends or family in town -- a Slayer who will do almost anything for the smallest scraps of positive attention from an even vaguely maternal authority figure -- might, on balance, be more beneficial to her personal quest for power and magical treasure than immediately burning all her bridges to steal a metal glove that can't ever be taken off and continually casts a spell that summons lightning directly down on to the person wearing it.  

Put yourself in Mrs Gwendolyn Post's shoes. 

Isn't it much smarter to keep playing the part of the stern but genuine Watcher, a part you did after all train for for years of your life -- and maybe quietly help yourself to a few of the more valuable magical items your Slayer happens to bring you on the side -- than to risk it all for one single prize, however rare?  If, with just a little molding and prodding and some barbed compliments now and then, you can get that teenage girl to go out and kill demons and steal all their stuff and bring it all back to you, no questions asked, where's the harm?  All you have to do is keep making sure she remembers that she's fundamentally unlovable and unwanted and that nobody else but you will ever accept her and the best she can ever hope for is your occasional fleeting and conditional praise, as long as she does what she's told and keeps it all a secret.  Half of that is taken verbatim from the Council's own script for enlisting new Slayers anyway. It'll be easy.

Maybe you tell her how impressed you are that she's training throughout the winter, rather than letting herself get distracted by things like holidays or parties or presents. Tell her some half-true story about the focus and determination of long-dead Slayers before her.  (You can go to all the parties you want, of course.  These rules don’t apply to you.)  Maybe you show up at her motel room briefly later, just to make sure she didn't take up that irritating other girl's unexpected offer to go to her house for dinner.  Maybe you reward her dedication to the cause with some little unimportant bauble; something cheap and meaningless you notice she keeps wearing for weeks afterwards, even if she pretended not to be impressed with your gift at the time.  Maybe you stick the crappy little (obviously shoplifted) presents that she nervously watches you unwrap later in a drawer somewhere and never think about them again.

Maybe you give her a little bit of advance warning about the Cruciamentum. Not early enough she can tell anyone else, of course, but early enough that she's ready for it. Not because you care (and you really don’t; she's an easily manipulated idiot and you don't respect her in the slightest), but because you want her to realize that the rest of the Council can't be trusted. That Mr Giles can't be trusted.  That there's only one person in all the world who she can trust.  

And if one night she shows up at your door uninvited to tell you that she killed an innocent man by mistake (you really don't care about this either), and she doesn't have anyone else to turn to (you try not to make it too obvious how pleased you are about that), then ... well, what an opportunity for you.  Obviously you're not going to let anyone else on the Council know about this: maybe they'd take her back to England, wasting all your hard work. Maybe they'd send a new Watcher to interrogate her.  But the Sunnydale police department aren't exactly competent.  You can make it all go away, you tell her.  And you do. 

But you let her know, subtly -- just not too subtly -- how disappointed you are by her carelessness.  How she'll have to work a lot harder from now on to get back into your good graces.  How you've really risked a lot for her tonight (you haven't) and how much she owes you now.  How you'll expect her to do better from now on (or at least to do more, more often, without ever asking inconvenient questions).

The disgrace was almost getting caught, you'll tell her later. That's what you found so deplorable. The mistake was needing to be bailed out.  There’s no excuse for sloppiness.  Killing some idiot who got in the way while the Slayer was doing her job though … well, Faith’s right to think that he wasn’t important.  He didn’t matter.  Oh, and the Sunnydale natural history museum is hosting an exhibit of a few rare magical objects next week that it would probably be best to keep in safe hands.  (Which is to say, of course, your hands.)  You don’t think Buffy or Giles need to know about it, do you, Faith? It would be best to be discreet about securing the necessary items, but if some idiot happens to get in the way, well...

There's no real risk of Faith being tricked into outing herself, the way she was tricked into revealing she was working for the Mayor in canon, because it's not a secret that Gwendolyn Post is Faith's Watcher.  Faith is supposed to listen to her Watcher, isn’t she?  And if her Watcher tells Faith to kill some demon and bring her the valuable books he was trying to sell, why shouldn't Faith do it?  Killing demons is her job, isn't it?  She’s good at killing things.  Good at stealing things, too, it turns out. Sometimes you don't even have to pretend to be impressed.

If Faith seems increasingly sad and withdrawn all the time, why do you care? It doesn't make her any less useful. And if Faith doesn't talk to anyone much anymore, and keeps some of her missions secret from her fellow Slayer and all of that other Slayer's little friends and hangers-on, what's so strange about that?  They're not Faith's friends, after all. None of them are.  Faith doesn't have friends.  Never needed them.  She's got somebody though.  She's got Mrs Post.

#btvs

[cha-melodius]

A ship of your choice firstprince, please!

A location—(Although I dare someone to send the White House or Kensington, I WILL make it into an AU. I have ideas.) Also if you want a particular historical setting, you can feel free to include a time period too. GO NUTS, please.

Well sheesh, with that kind of tease, I suggest both the White House and Kensington Palace, circa the year 2068.

I look forward to seeing what you choose to do with this! I am certain to enjoy it, whatever it is ❤️

(This was such an intriguing prompt, and I hope you enjoy what I did with it. Also happiest of birthdays to @dumbpeachjuice, who's incredible fic "make me your god" inspired this one.)

The Impossible Soul

(M, 7.2k, read it below or on AO3)

“I shouldn’t let you do this for me,” Henry tells him in the moments before.

“You should know by now that you’re not letting me do anything, sweetheart,” Alex returns. “Anyway, I’m doing this for us.”

“Even though we still won’t be able to be together?”

“I told you, it’s only temporary. Once my mom’s no longer in office, I won’t be in the spotlight. But I can’t leave you trapped here for another four years. I won’t.” Alex cups Henry’s cheek with his hand and brushes a thumb against the corner of his perfect mouth. “Besides, what if I left you here and you forgot about me?”

Henry covers Alex’s hand with his, warm and soft. “Never.”

~~~~~

One Year Earlier

Alex didn’t think he could be surprised by AIDEs at this point, but the ones populating Kensington are really something else.

“It’s a pleasure to have you here,” Prince Henry says, his blue eyes crinkling slightly at the corners as he shakes Alex’s hand.

Alex can’t help but stare. The eyes are the hardest part, or so Nora says. All the Secret Service agents’ eyes have a kind of strange metallic glint behind them. Often it’s not even noticeable, but if you look too closely, it becomes obvious. Prince Henry’s eyes are flawless, though. Just endless, perfect blue. Really, the only flaw Alex can see in this model is that they made him inhumanly beautiful. No real person has lips like that.

Henry’s hand is warm in his, his grip firm but not too tight. Alex forces himself to let go.

“Yeah, thanks,” he says, looking around rather than staying trapped in Henry’s piercing gaze.

Palace servants flit about, attending to all of the gala guests’ needs along with those of the princes and princess. Apparently, it’s a perfect recreation of the palace’s operations from the turn of the century, back before the monarchy was abolished. Now they just keep fake royalty here, like they can’t quite let go of the idea. Alex has never understood it, and visiting hasn’t really helped. Of all the things he’s had to do on this goodwill trip, this is by far the strangest, pretending to hobnob with royalty at a fancy ball like anyone does this shit anymore. Then again, maybe showing off is the whole point, same as it ever was.

It’s not like Alex isn’t used to interacting with AIDEs. The use of Artificially Intelligent Dynamic Entities is still limited more broadly, but they’re common in dangerous or sensitive jobs. The entire Secret Service was replaced by them two administrations ago; their loyalty is never in question, nor their willingness to protect their charges at all costs. Use of AIDEs for entertainment purposes is growing in popularity too, like the Kensington ones. They play the role they’re programmed to without deviation, they don’t need to eat or sleep (though they usually do, to better mimic humanity), they can be abused or even killed without repercussion and, most importantly, they don’t need to be paid.

“I hope your visit to London has been pleasant?” Prince Henry asks with perfectly-tuned amiability. It makes Alex want to push a little, though he knows Nora would tell him it’s a futile exercise.

“Mostly I’ve been spending it in lots of meetings,” Alex says. “Kinda wish I had time to go out and see more of the city.”

“I can understand that,” Henry replies, glancing toward the doors in a way that Alex would call wistful if he didn’t know better.

Can he? Do they let them leave the palace? Probably not. Does Henry want to, though? That would be a weird thing to program into an AIDE that’s supposed to stay in one place.

“I guess you probably don’t get out much, huh?” Alex asks.

Henry smiles indulgently at his bad joke. “Not so much, no. Makes it ever-so-difficult to meet people, you know.”

Alex laughs despite himself. He’s never met an AIDE that was so self-aware. If he tries to joke with Cash about taking a day off, the agent just stares at Alex blankly. “You must talk with a lot of visitors to the palace, though.”

“I do,” Henry allows, taking a sip of his champagne. “Most of them aren’t very interesting, though. All they do is ask what it’s like to be a prince.”

“And? What’s it like?”

Henry smirks a little. “Bloody boring. Not that I can tell them that, you understand.”

“Yeah,” Alex agrees, a little lost for words. Henry is nothing like what he was expecting. “So, what do you want to talk about, then?”

In response, Henry takes a step closer. He smells like fancy cologne, like linens and fresh grass, and something inside him seems to tug Alex closer. “Can I show you something? Still inside the palace, of course.”

Alex’s eyes flick over to June and Nora, chatting with someone he doesn’t recognize—AIDE or government official, he can’t tell—and the Secret Service agents linger at the periphery of the ballroom. He knows shouldn’t leave the event, but honestly chances are no one would notice he was gone. Plus, his curiosity is through the roof.

Henry takes him to a library. There are barricades set up to keep the visiting public to certain areas, but Henry slips past them and Alex follows him. Watches as Henry walks down the rows with a small, private smile curving his lips, trailing a finger along the spines. He pauses and plucks a book off the shelf—Pride and Prejudice, Alex can just make out—and smooths a hand lovingly over the cover.

“I love to read,” Henry says, almost to himself. His eyes flick up to Alex’s, shining brightly in the low light. “All those worlds… They’re incredible, don’t you think?”

Alex doesn’t know what to say. AIDEs don’t read. They don’t dream of other worlds.

“The rest of your… family,” Alex says, diplomatically. “Are they like you? I mean, with the reading.”

Henry laughs quietly and shakes his head. “No. No one’s like me.”

Alex is rapidly coming to that same conclusion.

~~~~~

“There’s nothing special about the Kensington AIDEs,” Nora tells him, sounding more beleaguered than necessary. “We talked to Princess Beatrice for like an hour, it was the same as any other AIDE. Pleasant, but a little vacant. The eyes are a neat trick, though.”

“I’m telling you, Henry is different,” Alex insists. “We talked all night. He’s aware of what he is. He reads and he thinks and he feels. Fuck, Nora, he dreams when he sleeps.”

“AIDEs don’t sleep. Not really.”

“Henry does.”

“Someone just got a little creative with the programming,” Nora says dismissively. “He’s supposed to say those things to make him seem more real. If you went back, he probably wouldn’t even remember you.”

“And what if he did?”

“Alex—”

“What if he did remember me? What if all of it really is real?” Alex presses.

Nora frowns at him. “Then there are some major ethical implications that current AI laws are frankly not prepared to deal with,” she says bluntly. “Look, it’s just not possible. They don’t have feelings, period. He’s just a fancy computer.”

“Fine. Whatever you say,” Alex huffs, mostly because he doesn’t want to have this argument anymore. She’s not going to change his mind, and clearly he’s not going to change hers.

“Promise me you’ll leave this alone. We can’t afford some kind of diplomatic incident because you got a crush on the prince AIDE.”

Alex glares at her. It’s not a crush. “I’ll leave it.”

He absolutely will not.

~~~~~

Cash doesn’t blink—literally—when Alex tells him that he’ll be visiting Kensington Palace again rather than the scheduled afternoon tea with some MP he couldn’t care less about. He sends his apologies with an excuse that he’s not feeling well and heads to the main entrance with the rest of the tourists. He has no idea where Henry might be, but AIDEs don’t take days off, so it stands to reason that he’ll be somewhere acting princely, or whatever he does all day.

Unfortunately, he gets stuck on a tour led by an AIDE with a dirty blonde bob and green eyes who most definitely shows none of Henry’s spark. It’s boring as fuck, and he almost bails more than once, but this place is huge and he’d probably get lost forever before he found Henry. They go past a few rooms Alex recognizes, but there’s no sign of the ‘royal family’ anywhere, and Alex starts to worry. Maybe they only trot them out for big events. Maybe you have to buy a special tour package. Ugh, his mom is going to kill him if he ditches any more events.

“Next, we’ll visit the palace library,” the guide says, and Alex perks up.

This has got to be his chance. Henry had said they were basically allowed free run of the palace so long as they remained in areas where they’d run into visitors during operating hours, and Alex knows there’s nowhere Henry would rather be than the library. Sure enough, he’s reading in a massive armchair by one of the windows, though he gets up when the tour group enters and comes over to talk to them. His face is fixed in a pleasant, bland smile as he looks over the group, until his eyes land on Alex. The flash of recognition is clear, even if he recovers quickly, and Alex’s heart thuds a little harder in his chest.

He lingers toward the back as the rest of the visitors ask Henry about living in the palace and being a prince—exactly as he said they would. He answers graciously, of course, the words so bland and scripted that Alex almost wonders if maybe he hadn’t been drinking too much champagne during the gala. But he hangs back when everyone else files out, and as soon as Henry turns to him, his eyes practically light up.

“You came back,” Henry says, his voice soft with something like wonder.

“Of course I did,” Alex replies. “We didn’t finish our conversation.”

Henry ducks his head, blond hair falling alluringly over his forehead as his cheeks turn pink. The way their bodies mimic human physiology is astounding sometimes. “I suppose we didn’t. Would you care to walk with me in the gardens? It’s a lovely day.”

“Can we do that?”

“Ironically, you’re allowed so long as you have one of us with you, and I’m allowed so long as I’m with a guest,” Henry explains. “Plus, you’re a foreign dignitary. No one will bother us.”

“Sure you wanna be seen with me? My sister would say I’m the furthest thing from dignified,” Alex says, grinning probably a little too broadly.

Henry’s smile slants mischievous as he steps close enough for Alex to get a noseful of linen and fresh grass again. “Maybe I like that about you.”

~~~~

“Have you ever been outside the palace?” Alex asks on his next visit. Nora had given him a look like she knew exactly what he’s been up to when he’d begged off from an official tour of the British Museum, even though he hasn’t brought up Henry again. The fact that she’d found him down a rabbit hole of academic papers about AIDE psychology probably hadn’t helped anything.

“Not that I remember,” Henry answers. It’s rainy today, so they’re ensconced in some kind of parlor with ornate, uncomfortable furniture. The fact that Henry only knows this life is outrageous. Has he ever truly been comfortable? Does anyone even care? “They gave me a basic knowledge of London as a background. I’m supposed to be fond of the Victoria & Albert Museum, but I’ve never seen it myself.”

“That’s fucked up,” Alex blurts.

Henry shrugs. “It’s just how it is.”

“How does none of this ever seem to bother you?”

“It can’t bother me, Alex. My entire existence has been—and will be—only this, and if I allowed any of it to bother me, I’d go mad.”

This does not, in fact, make Alex feel any better about the situation. “Guess I’ll just have to be angry for the both of us, then.”

“I’d rather you weren’t,” Henry says mildly. “It’s no use being upset about my life. Nothing can be changed.”

“Bad idea to tell me something can’t be changed, sweetheart. I fucking love a challenge,” Alex returns. He’s not joking, but Henry laughs anyway. “I’m serious, Henry. You deserve to get things you want, too.”

“What if I said I wanted you not to worry about it? That I want you to be happy?”

“Because you’re programmed to?” Alex counters, letting more bitterness than he means to slip into his voice.

Henry reaches out and slides a hand over Alex’s fist where it’s curled on his thigh. “Because I like you, Alex.”

~~~~

On the last visit he can manage before he leaves London, Alex brings Henry a cell phone.

“What’s this for?” Henry asks when Alex hands it to him. It’s a cheap smartphone, pay as you go, something that Alex can renew the data and minutes on remotely.

Alex frowns at him. He would have figured Henry would be familiar with the concept of phones, but maybe they purposefully programmed him to not recognize it. “It’s for communication. Audio, text, video—”

“I know what a phone is, Alex,” Henry says wryly, interrupting him before Alex can make a fool of himself. “I mean why are you giving it to me?”

“I’d like to keep talking to you after I go home,” Alex tells him, feeling oddly exposed by the question. “If that’s something you’d like, too.”

Henry smiles, almost bashfully. “Yes, I’d like that.”

“I assume you’re not allowed to have that,” Alex says with a nod at the phone.

“I don’t think anyone would consider it a possibility that we might,” Henry muses, “but I’ll keep it hidden nonetheless.”

“Good plan.”

“I’m going to miss your visits, Alex,” Henry says earnestly. “I’ll miss you.”

AIDEs can’t miss things, Alex’s brain supplies, an oft-repeated truism. He feels vaguely sick, leaving Henry here like this.

“Yeah,” Alex croaks, unable to quite meet Henry’s bright blue eyes. “I’ll miss you too.”

~~~~~

“How would you get a site-locked AIDE off the premises?” Alex casually asks Nora one late night at the Residence, when they’re deep in the weeds of polls and projections.

The campaign has been rough; rougher than the first one. Or maybe it’s just that Alex is far more involved in the filthy underbelly of it this time around. The experience has definitely made him question his resolve to go into politics. Then again, sometimes it feels like his only option to make a difference in the way he wants to. These days he frequently gets into arguments about the need for more protections for AIDEs, though right now it feels like a losing battle. They’re not supposed to need protections, that’s the point of them, and no one believes him when he suggests that they might have more in common with humans than previously believed.

It’s been months. Months of texting, and phone calls, and occasional video chats. Months of getting to know Henry—the real him, beyond his programmed backstory. For his part, Henry has seemingly blossomed further with access to the internet. Alex was admittedly not certain that was a great idea, but Henry seems to stay off the darker parts. He watches a lot of Bake Off, apparently. He’s obsessed with some cute beagle account on Instagram. He reads travel blogs and insists that just knowing that these wonderful places exist is enough for him.

Alex doesn’t believe him. Well, he believes Henry believes that, but that doesn’t stop Alex from yearning to show Henry some of them in person. Even something in London would be worth it. Hence, the question.

Nora looks at him like she knows exactly what he’s on about. He’s kept his correspondence with Henry a secret from everyone, but he’s pretty sure she suspects something is up. Him broaching this topic all but confirms that, but he needs the help.

“Permanently, or short-term?” she asks.

“Let’s go with short-term to start.”

Another capital-L Look. “Well,” she says eventually, “I would probably hack into the control system and override the barrier protocols. These systems are self-healing, though. You’d have a couple of hours at most.”

“And what happens if the AIDE was off-site when the system kicked back on?” Alex asks.

“Depends on the program. Possibly just an alarm or something. Most of the time it’s full deactivation though.”

“They kill them?”

“AIDEs aren’t alive, Alejandro,” Nora says pointedly. Alex bites his tongue. “But yes, in a manner of speaking.”

“Fuck,” Alex breathes, wiping his hands over his face. “And to permanently get him out?”

It’s a slip. He’s not dumb enough to think she missed it, though she doesn’t show it.

“Not entirely sure,” she admits. “I’d need one of the tablets they use to control them so I could go into the AIDE’s code. And good luck with that; the companies that make them have some of the tightest security out there.”

“Yeah, of course.”

She turns back to her laptop, and Alex half-expects the conversation is done, at least for now. But then, as she’s typing, she says, “I assume this isn’t idle curiosity.”

Alex sighs. “No.”

~~~~~

It takes nine months from their first meeting for Alex to find a reason to visit London. His mother offhandedly mentions sending someone to some conference he doesn’t really care about, and he jumps at the chance. All he can think about is Henry. Being in the same city as him again. Seeing him. Touching him.

Alex has had time to come to terms with his desire for Henry. Honestly, the bisexuality was easy compared to the AIDE aspect of it. Nora is fond of pointing out that they’re literally designed to be desirable, even the ones not populating what basically pass for sexy amusement parks, but Alex doesn’t just want Henry physically. He wants to spend time with him, to make him laugh and see the crinkle of his eyes not through a phone screen.

Frankly, he also wouldn’t mind a little clarity on the whole situation. To either get incontrovertible proof that Henry is fundamentally the same as a person, or else be reminded that he isn’t, that Alex has deluded himself into believing Henry was more than a machine (a possibility that Nora regularly reminds him of).

On the flight over, Alex finds himself watching Cash, not for the first time. He’s doing a sudoku puzzle, which can’t really be much of a challenge for him. Still, he works on them religiously. Did someone program that into him? Or does Cash actually enjoy doing them?

“Do you like your job, Cash?” Alex asks.

Cash looks up at him, setting his ballpoint pen down—he does the puzzles in pen because he never makes a mistake. He’s got an expression on like he doesn’t really understand Alex’s question, even though it should be straightforward. “It’s my job,” he finally says.

“Yeah, but do you like it?” Alex pushes. “Do you find it fulfilling?”

The tip of his head means Cash is analyzing Alex’s body language. After another moment, he says, “Yes.”

Alex can’t quite hold back a sigh. The answer is predictable. Cash is only saying that because he thinks Alex wants to hear it. That’s what AIDEs do, they anticipate your needs and wants.

“Is that not the right answer?” Cash asks, frowning.

“Don’t worry about it,” Alex says.

He knows Cash won’t.

~~~~~

Henry is understandably nervous about the plan. It is, after all, his life on the line.

“The control system will go down at the very end of the visiting day, so we can slip out with the exiting crowds,” Alex tells him. “It’s gonna look like maintenance, which shouldn’t set off any red flags right away. Between that and the roadblocks Nora’s set up, we should have five hours.”

“For what?” Henry asks.

Alex just grins. “It’s a surprise, sweetheart.”

Henry looks even more human in Alex’s Longhorns baseball cap and hoodie. Soft. Dangerously so. It makes Alex want to do reckless things. Instead, he sets his watch for four and a half hours and reminds himself how high the stakes are. He’s arranged everything just so tonight. No surprises.

The escape goes off without a hitch, and Alex breathes a sigh of relief once they’re making their way through the crowded city streets. Out here, the two of them are completely unremarkable, even with Cash trailing a few steps behind them. Henry seems to take it all in stride, though Alex doesn’t miss the quiet looks of awe that steal over his face as he takes in the city. They stop and get falafel at a food truck. Henry asks to pet every dog they come across. He looks indescribably happy in a way that makes Alex’s heart clench in his chest.

At the back entrance to the museum, Alex pays off the night guard—not an AIDE, thank god, they’re nearly impossible to bribe—and they slip inside, leaving Cash by the door. It doesn’t take long for Henry to catch on.

“You brought me to the V&A,” Henry breathes as he looks around.

It had seemed like the obvious choice, after what Henry had told him. “I’ve never actually been here,” Alex admits.

“That’s all right, love,” Henry says, grinning now. “I know my way around.”

Alex has never been so enraptured by someone telling him about art, but it’s impossible not to be taken in by the passion with which Henry speaks about the sculptures. He tells Alex about Tipu’s Tiger, about Giambologna, about Narcissus and Zephyr and Pluto rendered exquisitely in marble. His programming hadn’t bothered to give him anything more than a general interest; all of Henry’s knowledge comes from reading in the palace library—and now on the phone Alex gave him—and he’s apparently done a lot of it. His programming also has nothing to do with the wonder and emotion in his voice, with the tears that glitter in his eyes when he gets overwhelmed by the experience.

Machines don’t cry over art. They just don’t. Art is supposed to be a fundamentally human experience, which is proof enough to Alex that, whatever he was designed as, Henry is just as human as Alex is now.

~~~~~

In the Santa Chiara chapel, Henry finally pauses and turns his awe on Alex.

“I’ve dreamed of this,” he murmurs, closing the space between them until only inches remain. Alex has to tip his head up to meet Henry’s bright gaze, and his heart thuds hard in his chest. “You risked so much to give this moment to me. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You deserve it,” Alex tells him, meaning every word of it. “You deserve the entire world.”

“Alex,” Henry breathes.

Alex doesn’t think; he leans up and presses their lips together, a fleeting thing, over before he can convince himself it was a mistake. Except it was, because now he knows the softness of Henry’s lips against his, and he’ll never be satisfied with anything else. Henry’s eyes are wide when he pulls back, his lips slightly parted, and all at once Alex curses his impulsivity. What if Henry thinks that’s what he wants in return, that he owes Alex part of himself for this, when the last thing Alex wants is to take advantage of his programmed desire to please?

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

But Henry presses a hand against his face and pulls him in again, slides their lips together with intention, leaves Alex breathless when he pulls away again.

“You don’t have to do that,” Alex breathes into the silence afterward. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I want to,” Henry says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I want you, Alex.”

“You’re not just saying that because you think I want you to?”

Henry laughs a little, shaking his head. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you,” he confesses. “I can assure you, that wasn’t programmed. And neither is this.”

This time, when Henry kisses him, Alex can’t help but smile into it.

~~~~~

They go off-plan. There are two hours left when Alex takes Henry back to his hotel room and presses him back into the bed. Peels away their clothes and kisses across warm skin that feels no different from his own under his lips. Henry gasps and twitches under him as Alex takes him in hand; for an AIDE that was only supposed to staff a museum, whoever designed him really went all out on the anatomy.

“Have you ever done this?” Alex murmurs into the crease of his hip, breathing in the scent of him. Linen and fresh grass and something else, musky and heady.

Henry shakes his head, and relief floods through Alex. It isn’t some virginity kink, ok? He’s just heard stories of how some people treat AIDEs no matter what their jobs are, like they’re free for the taking because they never say no, and he’s glad Henry’s never been in that situation.

“And you’re sure you want to with me?”

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Henry nearly growls. He drags Alex up from between his legs and kisses him hard, then rolls them over so he’s on top, straddling Alex’s waist. Slides back until Alex’s cock is pressing into the cleft of his ass and rocks his hips in a way that makes them both moan. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

Alex is pretty sure he sees God when Henry lowers himself onto his cock, sitting upright with one hand behind him gripping Alex’s thigh and the other splayed over Alex’s chest. Or maybe it’s just that Henry looks like a god, like one of the mythical marble sculptures in the V&A, muscles rippling beneath his skin, but warm and yielding and vibrant and alive.

You’re unreal, Alex almost says, but that’s not quite it. Henry like this is very, very real. Impossible might be a better word.

Henry is impossible, and Alex is impossibly in love with him.

~~~~~

“Do you think you could steal one of the tablets they use to access your code?” Alex asks as they lie together in the darkness. His ear is pressed to Henry’s chest, listening to the steady thud of his circulatory pump—not quite a heart, but not not one either.

Henry’s hand cards through his hair, idly twirling Alex’s curls around his fingers. “What are you planning, love?”

Alex tips his face up to look at him. “Can you?”

“I doubt I can,” Henry answers after a pause, “but the technician responsible for us… he may be willing to help.”

“And you trust him?”

“He’s protected me before. I think he knows about my… differences.”

Alex hums. “How do we contact him?”

~~~~~

What Shaan Srivastava is not willing to do is speak over any sort of electronic form of communication, which Alex honestly takes as a good sign. They meet in a cafe on the other side of London, the day before Alex is set to leave.

“I want to get him out,” Alex tells him plainly. “For good.”

“Mountchristen Technologies puts numerous failsafes into the AIDEs they build,” Shaan tells him. “Trackers. Latent viruses. Kill switches.”

“Can they be disabled?”

Shaan takes a sip of his tea. “I have an idea, but I have no way of implementing it. I’m just responsible for keeping them in good working order. I’m not a coder.”

The hope that flares up in Alex’s chest is dangerous but oh-so-seductive. “I think I know someone who could help with that.”

~~~~~

“This is insane,” Nora tells him. “You honestly think it’s a good idea to pull off some kind of heist from the world’s biggest tech company a month before the election?”

“No,” Alex says reasonably. “That’s why we’re waiting until after. I convinced mom to let me take a trip to London between New Years and the inauguration.”

Nora shakes her head, every movement like a knife in Alex’s gut. “I can’t do this. I won’t. I never should have helped you on that little excursion in the first place, but this is a whole ‘nother level. We could both go to jail for who knows how long. And for what? Because you fucked an AIDE and now you want him for yourself?”

“Fuck you,” Alex nearly shouts. “I love him, asshole! I can’t let him stay a— a slave in that fucking palace.”

“He’s a machine! That’s what he was designed for, Alex!”

“Maybe he was, but that doesn’t mean that’s what he is now,” Alex insists. He holds out the tablet that she has yet to take from him. “Just look at his code. Even I can tell it isn’t like anything else out there.”

Finally, she snatches the tablet from him and jabs at it a few times. Her frown gets deeper. “There’s something wrong with this tablet,” she says eventually. “It’s not displaying things properly.”

“It is.”

“It can’t be, this level of complexity is impossible—”

“He’s writing his own fucking code, Nora,” Alex interrupts. Shaan had explained his theory on Henry’s code as best he was able before Alex left London. “With every one of the choices he was never supposed to be able to make. That’s why it looks like that.”

Heavy silence stretches between them as Nora stares at the tablet, occasionally swiping around and tapping. She chews on her lip. “It shouldn’t be possible,” she mutters, half to herself.

“But it is. He is. Please, Nora,” Alex pleads, not caring how desperate he sounds. “I’ll do anything.”

“Yeah, well. Hopefully it won’t come to that.”

~~~~~

“You need to understand that the changes to his code means that accessing the safeguards is much more difficult.”

“Ok.”

“And I can’t guarantee that this will work. We can’t test it out. Once we shut him down, there’s no way to know exactly what will happen when we boot him back up again. He might come back the same as he is now, but he also might undergo some kind of reset. Even if he retains his free will, he might not remember his life before. He might not remember you.”

Alex swallows hard. “I understand.”

“Does he?”

~~~~~

It takes Alex a month to work up the nerve to broach the topic with Henry. On video call not long after the election, he explains Nora’s plan, how they need to do a full shutdown so she can extract the safeguards like a surgeon. He makes himself explain the risks even though his first impulse is to downplay them. Henry deserves to know, deserves to make the decision for himself. Alex would be a huge fucking hypocrite to take that away from him.

That doesn’t mean he’s required to like Henry’s reaction, though.

“It’s too much risk,” Henry says, a stubborn look on his face that Alex is very familiar with by now. “Things are fine now.”

“They’re really not,” Alex argues. “You’re no better than a prisoner there, Henry. Your freedom is worth the risk.”

“It’s not.”

“Of course it fucking is!” Alex snaps, rapidly becoming frustrated by this argument.

“Not when it could mean losing you!” Henry bites out. He presses his lips together and looks away from the camera, but Alex can see the tears shining in his eyes. “My memories of you—of the museum, of us,” he says eventually, his voice unsteady, “are the only things I have that are truly mine. And you tell me I could lose them… I can’t do it. I’d rather stay here forever.”

“Don’t you understand?” Alex pleads. He wants to reach through the screen and grab him, turn his face and make Henry look at him. “I’m trying to give you the world, baby.”

“I don’t want the world,” Henry says miserably. “Please, Alex. It’s better this way. You may think this is worth it now, but one day you’ll change your mind when you realize that having a secret AIDE lover isn’t exactly compatible with a political career. You’ll want to be with a real person. Someone whose affection you can be certain isn’t just programming. Just… leave me here with my memories.”

Then Henry hangs up on him.

~~~~~

Henry doesn’t answer his calls or reply to his texts, and Alex couldn’t be more miserable. He doesn’t eat and sleeps only fitfully, which confuses his family. Everyone’s still riding a high from winning the election. They think Alex is seriously ill and try to bring in a doctor, but nothing’s physically wrong with him. He can’t tell them he’s suffering from a broken heart like some pining Victorian maiden.

On the fifth day, Nora comes storming into his bedroom in the White House and throws a duffle bag at his chest.

“Pack your shit, we’re going to London,” she says bluntly. “Also take a shower. You reek.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“It’s Henry.” She waves the tablet in the air, which is still linked to Henry’s code in real time. “Someone’s trying to make changes to his code.”

Alex flops back down onto his bed and stares at the ceiling. “It’s probably just him deciding he’s done with me.”

“God, you’re pathetic,” she huffs, now rummaging through his dresser. “It’s not him. Looks like someone else is poking around, and that can’t be a good thing.”

That’s enough to make him rocket straight out of bed, an icy spike of dread shooting down his spine. “Have you gotten in contact with Shaan?”

Nora shakes her head. “No. He’s radio silent.”

“Fuck.”

“I booked us tickets with your credit card on a flight that leaves in two hours, so hurry the fuck up.”

“Nora, is he—” Alex starts before his voice clips off as his throat closes. He forces out, “Can you tell… is he ok?”

Her expression softens, and she puts a hand on his forearm and squeezes. “For now.”

~~~~~

The good thing about Kensington being a museum is that no one can stop him from just buying a ticket and going in. He’s been here enough times to know his way to the library, at least, which is where he goes first, barely aware that Nora’s following hot on his heels. All he can think about is Henry.

Henry’s not in the library, though, nor in any of the surrounding rooms. Alex stops a palace attendant and asks for directions to Prince Henry’s apartments, which she helpfully provides. It’s a part of the palace that’s not on any tours, but that doesn’t seem to matter. A palace attendant’s directive to be helpful to humans is off the charts, even for an AIDE.

Somehow he’s not expecting Shaan to answer the door when he knocks. Alex immediately shoulders his way into the room, anger and fear an unholy cocktail in his veins.

“Where is he? What going on here?” he demands, frantically looking around. “Henry, baby, where are you?”

“Mr. Claremont-Diaz—”

“Henry!” There’s no answer, and Alex rounds on Shaan again. “Are you doing this to him?”

Shaan sighs, and it forces Alex to look closer, to take in the bags under his eyes and the grim set to his face. “I told you, I’m not a coder, Mr. Claremont-Diaz. I have, however, been doing my best to slow their progress.”

“What’s happening?” Alex demands.

“Someone higher in the company noticed Henry’s unusual code. I’m not sure how. A standard review of the AIDEs in the palace, I suppose. Or your trip out of Kensington was less secret than you hoped.”

Fuck. None of that is good. Alex scrubs a hand over his face, forces himself to take steady breaths and not descend into a panic attack. “Ok, ok. Is he all right?”

“Alex?”

Alex’s head whips around so fast he nearly strains his neck. Henry’s standing in the doorway, dressed in his usual slacks and button-down with a blue v-neck sweater over it. He looks… normal, and Alex nearly sobs in relief.

“Baby,” he breathes, practically throwing himself across the room and into Henry’s arms. He buries his face in Henry’s neck and breathes deeply, and the barbed wire wrapped tightly around his heart loosens a little.

“What are you doing here?” Henry asks, his strong arms wrapping automatically around Alex’s body.

Alex yanks his head back and looks askance at Shaan. “Does he not know?” He stares up at Henry. “Your code is under attack.”

“Ah, yes,” Henry says carefully. “It’s not the first time.”

“This has happened to you before?” Nora asks, and Henry looks at her in shock, like he hadn’t realized she was in the room.

“You must be Nora,” he surmises. “Yes, it has. I might have thought you’d have noticed the effects in my code.”

A look of understanding dawns over Nora’s face, and she nods. “They’re like scars. Fuck. How many times?”

“It’s not important,” Henry says in a way that suggests he’s been doing this for a long time. “The main point is that I can handle them.”

“Fuck that,” Alex spits out. “I’m not letting them scar you anymore.”

Henry closes his eyes and sighs wearily as he extracts himself from Alex’s grip. “Alex, love, you shouldn’t be here—”

“No, you listen, asshole,” Alex snaps, his terror giving way to fury. “You can’t fucking hang up on me this time.”

“I told you my decision, Alex—”

“And what about what I want? Doesn’t that mean anything?”

“Fine,” Henry says shortly, his own temper flaring. “You know as well as I that we can’t be together as long as your mother’s in office and the public’s eyes are on you. So if you still want me in four years, come back and we’ll talk then. You know where I’ll be.”

He says it with a humorless slant to his lips that’s probably supposed to pass as a wry grin, like it’s a joke. Alex wants to fucking scream.

“And let them keep on trying to chip away at what makes you you? Take the chance that they’ll just get rid of you?” he retorts instead. “Fat fucking chance! I’m not leaving the man I love in captivity for four fucking years!”

It takes Henry’s eyes going wide and his mouth falling open for Alex to realize what he’s said. “Alex, you can’t—”

“What, love you? Because I do,” Alex says defiantly. “And I think you love me too.”

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you AIDEs can’t love?” Henry says, his voice wavering as he stares at the floor.

Alex steps close, forcing Henry to look up at him, until their noses are almost brushing. “Yeah, well, I know better,” he says, low and heated. “I also know I’m not gonna want anyone else, ‘real person’ or not. You’re a real person to me, Henry, and that’s what matters.” He raises a hand to Henry’s cheek and swipes his thumb through the tear track streaking it. “You’re it for me, sweetheart. I’m never gonna love anyone like I love you, and no one can take that away. Plus,” he adds, for the first time letting a corner of his mouth tug upward, “you know how annoyingly persistent I am. If you forget me, I’ll just make you fall in love with me all over again.”

Henry lets out a wet laugh and covers Alex’s hand with his. “It won’t take long.”

~~~~~

Seeing Henry shut down is wrong. He doesn’t even look dead, he just looks… not there. There’s no light in his eyes. Alex hates it. Can’t make himself watch as Nora works furiously.

It takes longer than he expected, but eventually she takes a deep breath and mutters, “Here goes nothing,” then taps a big green button on the tablet.

Henry’s eyelashes flutter as he wakes up. He looks around the room, eyes landing in turn on Shaan, Nora, and Alex. He holds Alex’s gaze and Alex stares back as if he could make Henry remember him through sheer force of will.

“Hello,” Henry says pleasantly. “I don’t believe we’ve met?”

~~~~~

Five Years Later

Alex stands at the end of the long driveway that leads to a small bungalow by the sea on a tiny island in the middle of the Caribbean. He’s got a bouquet of flowers clutched in one hand, which feels silly now. Maybe this was a mistake.

He’s kept tabs on Henry and his life after leaving Kensington. From what he can tell, Henry seems happy. He visits the markets and restaurants, knows the locals, and spends lots of time writing. He’s never taken a lover, but Alex doesn’t let himself believe that’s because of him.

It seemed easier, if they were going to have to be apart, to not fill Henry in on their history at first. At least one of them could weather the years without heartache. Alex threw himself into law school, letting nothing distract him. Graduated at the top of his class, got the job of his dreams working for a firm specializing in civil rights litigation, one of the few considering cases related to AIDE protections. He lives a pretty quiet life. No one really cares about what the former FSOTUS is up to these days. And now he’s here, half a decade later, with little more than hope.

Hope, and a wilting bouquet of flowers.

In his darker moments, he’s wondered if it wouldn’t be kinder to Henry to leave him be. Let him live his life. After all, Alex will get old and die, and Henry… won’t. No one really knows how AIDEs might break down over time—their organic-based bodies must, eventually—but their lifespans will surely be much longer than a human’s. In that context, coming back and hoping Henry will fall in love with him again seems nothing but selfish.

Still, he made a promise, and he owes it to Henry to tell him, if nothing else. Maybe Henry will decide that he’s happy as he is, that he doesn’t want the eventual heartache. He owes it to Henry to let him choose.

The gravel of Henry’s driveway crunches loudly under his shoes as he walks toward the bungalow, announcing his arrival as well as any doorbell. When he gets closer, he catches sight of Henry sitting on the porch that faces the beach, a notebook on his lap and a drink on the table next to him. They’d dyed his hair brown after fleeing Kensington, and brown it has remained. He’s still as pale as ever, though; AIDEs don’t tan or get sunburned.

He doesn’t turn at the sound of Alex’s approach, just stares fixedly out at the ocean until Alex stops at the bottom of the two steps that lead up to the porch. Alex’s heart is in his throat when Henry finally gets up and walks to the top of the steps. The smile on his face is warm, fond. Nothing like what he’d left Alex with when they’d parted.

It shouldn’t be possible… but then again, Henry is the very embodiment of the impossible.

He holds out his hand, and Alex climbs up to take it, letting Henry pull him in.

“Hello, love,” Henry says, raising a warm hand to his cheek. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince #rwrb fic #rwrb fanfic #firstprince fic #firstprince fanfic #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #my fic #chamel's fandom fest

[lyssak09]

Hey can i ask a Yandere archangels hcs (separated) where their obsession is their soulmates?

Pronouns for the reader can be She/her

I didn't know exactly if you meant them in like a soulmate AU or something so I just did some soulmate AUs from the wonderful @creativepromptsforwriting. Some have different soulmate AUs than others. I really enjoyed writing this! Happy reading 💙

Yandere Archangels soulmates

Lucifer

Name & Telepathy

Archangels weren’t made for humans, so why the fuck did a name replace his vessel’s soulmate’s name. 

When Lucifer took over Nick’s body he never thought about the soulmate thing his father put in place for you humans. Nick’s soulmate had already died so he didn’t really think about it.

Til he felt a burning sensation on his left arm one day, Lucifer saw Sarah’s name (Nick’s deceased wife) disappear and a new name replace it, Y/N.

You on the other hand were born with the name Lucifer on your left arm. Your parents couldn’t believe someone would name their baby Lucifer! When you were old enough to fully understand the whole soulmate concept you just thought your soulmate had cruel parents to name them that.

The thought that the Lucifer is your soulmate never even crossed anyone's mind. 

Lucifer wanted to know why he had a soulmate, he did research and found nothing about archangels having soulmates. This must be another cruel joke from his father. Like he could ever have a soulmate.

He tried to ignore it and pretend nothing changed. But a part of him wanted to know if you were real or not. Lucifer thought about you more than he would ever like to admit. To the point you could hear his thoughts, sure you’ve heard of soulmates being connected telepathically but never thought you’d be one of those who are.

“Why the fuck would he give me a soulmate? I fell from heaven because of humans, I wasn’t his favorite anymore because of them! They’re a broken, flawed, and murderous species! It's so like him to make one be my soulmate” You heard someone say, you shot your head up, looking for the owner of the voice. Finding nothing you try to brush it off and continue with what you were doing. “I wonder if I’m her soulmate? Now that would be a plot twist.” You hear the voice laugh. You’re either going crazy, or you can hear your soulmate. “Imagine, having the devil as your soulmate! HA! ‘Mom, Dad, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Lucifer’ that would be fun to see.” The voice cackles. Yep, you’re going crazy.

Hearing him in your head has caused you to think about the crazy person who’s your soulmate, causing the telepathic connection between you to reach him.

“I can’t believe my soulmate is crazy. He thinks he’s the devil! He’s gotta be in an institution or something.” Lucifer hears right as he’s killing a lone angel. He stares at the angel whom he has in a choke hold, “Did you say something?”. The angel looks at him like he’s nuts. “Yeah, you’re right, it's probably nothing. Anyways, enjoy your snooze fest wings!” Lucifer grins then disintegrates the angel. “The person who is supposed to complete me says he’s the devil. I mean, that's crazy! I hope he gets help before I meet him if I ever meet him.” He hears the voice again, Lucifer whips his head around but finds no one is near. He thinks before he gains a smirk, “I guess she is real. I have a soulmate.”. Lucifer laughs before looking up at the sky, “Thanks pop, this should be fun”

Since hearing your voice Lucifer is interested in meeting you now, there’s got to be a reason why God made you for him. He won’t admit it but he enjoys hearing you when you talk to yourself, he gets to learn more about you. And unfortunately, you are in fact interesting.

The more he learns about you/hears you the more he feels for you. Finding you has become a priority for him now. Lucifer finds your inner thoughts and monologues you do to be both stupid and adorable at the same time. He’s falling for you without meeting you, not that he would admit that.

Lucifer will finally figure out where you are because of your thoughts. He comes to stake you out, he doesn’t expect to be smitten by your idiotic and stupid pretty face. It makes him angry how he feels about you now, not only was he falling for you just from hearing you and your thoughts, but now he’s actually physically attracted to you!

Lucifer will secretly watch you, either he’ll do it himself or have a demon do it for him if he has matters to attend to. Watching you, your daily routines, and how you interact with people doesn’t help Lucifer in trying to find out why you’re his soulmate. But it does unfortunately cause him to fall for you even more.

He’ll ‘coincidently’ bump into you sometimes, just to interact with you, even if it's just for a second. Lucifer tells himself he does it to learn about you and your weaknesses, but he just wants to see you and talk to you.

It starts to become less of a coincidence that he’s almost everywhere you are and more of a very creepy purposeful thing in your eyes. To the point where you just straight-up confront him on it one day.

“Look Nick, I’m starting to think you’re following me everywhere and it needs to stop. If you have something to say then just come right out with it.” You scold the man, expecting his smile to fall, but no… He smiles wider. The man you call Nick seems like he’s about to say something but he stops himself. “I’ll see you tomorrow Y/N,” He says giving you a look you can’t decipher. You shake your head and continue walking home.

The next day you would in fact see him again. Not knowing everything is about to change.

You enter your living room and find ‘Nick’ looking around it, picking up and staring at the photos you have up. “What the hell are you doing Nick? Why are you in my house!” You scold the man and her turns to face you. “I’ve come for my soulmate” ‘Nick’ smiles then pulls up his sleeve a bit up and shows you his left arm, your name clear as ever on his arm. You feel a shock and panic course through you, you scramble to look at your arm, knowing that it has said Lucifer all your life, and it still does. Confusion washes over your face. “My arm says Lucifer, not Nick.” You replied, your eyebrows furrowing. ‘Nick’ walks towards you. “My name isn’t actually Nick babe, it’s Lucifer. And we’re meant to be” He smiles and then his eyes flash glowing red…

“I know why my father made you my soulmate, why he made us soulmates. The irony of me falling for a human, the very species that caused me to fall and no longer be favorited or accepted by him, is too much for him to not enjoy.”

He takes you to your new home, Hell. Lucifer will confess how he didn’t want you at first but you’re so special and different. How could he not fall for you?

Gabriel

Telepathy & Dreamy

Archangels don’t sleep, right? Then why is he dreaming?

Ever since he went to earth and became one with his vessel (who is unnamed) he blinks and then finds himself in some weird place. A dream maybe?

He’ll be in said place for however long then ‘wakes up’ back wherever he was, more like he blinks then is back in his house or whatever. Like he never left.

The times he was shoved into this world/place (?) would vary. He couldn’t do much in this place. Mainly watch what happens. The main constant in the place was a girl, which happens to be you.

As he witnesses what must be dreams, he learns more about you.

You’re the best part of humanity he’s seen in a very long time.

Gabriel will start doing research, finding out what he’s witnessing is in fact someone’s dreams, his soulmate’s actually. He learns this is a part of the soulmate thing his father put in place for you humans. 

Why he’s yours or why you’re his, he doesn’t know. But he frankly, doesn’t care as to why. He just wants to know more about you.

Gabe will learn how to gain more control of your dreams, trying to manipulate them slightly, in hopes of talking to you.

Gabriel was quietly watching your dream from the sidelines. He found you so cute and adorable. Seeing what your brain comes up with as you sleep was also fascinating to him. He can’t wait to finally be able to interact with you and your dreams. Gabe is already picturing all the dates he’ll take you on in your dreams. 

You didn’t believe you had a soulmate for a long time, unlike most people when you dreamt you never saw someone consistently in your dreams, aka your soulmate. So when you started to see this man in your dreams you didn’t really think he was your soulmate, just something your brain conjured up.  

Until the man came up to you in your dream and spoke to you. You were happy to finally have a soulmate. The man you learned is named Gabriel and he was beyond giddy to finally be able to talk to you.

From then on when you would dream Gabe would change the dream, making it like dates. So you could learn more about him, don’t worry he already knows everything about you now 🙂

Gabriel doesn’t tell you that he’s an archangel or that angels and god actually exists yet, so when he tells you about himself he makes it simpler. “Oh, do I have siblings? Yeah, I have 3 brothers I was close to, the others I never really interacted much with since they were made way after me.” “Do I still see my brothers? HA! Hell no, not after the war- I mean the falling out between two of them.” “Am I close to my parents…..uhm no, my father abandoned us basically.”

But the longer this goes on he starts to show more of himself to you, his unhealthy feelings towards you. Becoming too touchy, sharing way more information about yourself than he should know, and getting irritated when you mention any male in your life. 

Gabriel starts to come off too strong. “You people believe in marriage right? We should do that then. Secure the deal legally!” 

He says that the 3rd time you talk to him in one of your dreams.

Gabe starts to push the idea of meeting you way quicker than you’d like. If you mention that he’s moving too quickly for you he’ll get upset. 

“What-what do you mean? We’re soulmates Y/N! You were literally made for me! My father made you for me! We’re meant to be!” Gabe exclaimed in frustration. You give him a strange look. “What do you mean ‘your father’?” You try to question him, Gabriel lets out a sigh before explaining that he’s an archangel and his father is God, who happens to actually exist. ‘He’s crazy! He thinks he’s an angel? He cannot be my soulmate!’ you think before trying to wake up and get away from him.

He didn’t appreciate you cutting your time together short. Nor will he appreciate it when you start trying to avoid him by not sleeping. Not only is that unhealthy for you but you’re staying away from him! He hates that. It feels like you’re abandoning him, and we all know how he feels about that.

Gabriel starts searching for you, which isn’t too hard since he knows way too much about you. While you’re trying to find out if you can get rid of a soulmate, or at least keep them out of your dreams.

Unfortunately for you, he knows what you’re trying to do, luckily for him, he can hear your thoughts if he focuses on you. You don’t know he can do that as your soulmate. 

After the fifth night of staying awake, you’re starting to get the sleep deprivation effects, such as hallucinating. Which will give Gabriel a huge advantage.

He’ll come for you after finally figuring out where you are in the world. It’s late at night and you’re too exhausted to fight against him or even realize that he’s real. You just think you're hallucinating when a man looking like your soulmate randomly appears in your room.

You honestly made it way easier for him to take you home, if you had slept more you’d be able to fight against him, maybe he wouldn’t have had to take you so quickly if you slept and met him in your dreams. But it's too late for it now. He easily scoops you up and takes you to your new home, his home.

“Welcome home, sweetcheeks”

Michael

Danger alert & name & telepathy

When Michael took over Dean’s body he didn’t expect to gain a soulmate, especially you. You were Dean’s soulmate, your name was on his left arm and everything. But after Michael was in his body for a couple of weeks he felt a weird sensation on Dean’s right arm, your name was starting to appear. 

He was more confused than anything. Why would his father give you two soulmates? Why would he make you his soulmate in the first place? 

Michael couldn’t understand why Chuck gave him, an archangel, a soulmate.

As much as he would have liked to ignore this, he couldn’t. He was intrigued. Not just because he somehow has a soulmate, but because you are his soulmate. His destined vessel’s soulmate is also his! That is fascinating to him.

So he’ll go through Dean’s mind to learn about you, even change up the imaginary bar he made to keep Dean preoccupied, to involve an imaginary you. He’ll learn more about you and why you’re so special to Dean that way. And it keeps Dean from realizing he’s locked away in his own mind/body for a bit longer.

The more he learns about you and sees memories of you from Dean the harder he falls. Who could see that coming?

Michael becomes obsessed with you, you’re not like other humans. Maybe that's why his father made you his soulmate.

He’ll also start to become overprotective, especially since he can feel when you’re in danger thanks to Dean’s soulmate connection to you.

You could be on a hunt with Sam or a dangerous research mission (to find a way to get Michael out of Dean’s body) with Cas, and be in danger till whatever creature was about to/was harming you all of a sudden disintegrates. But there won’t be a sign or a trace of what killed the creature.

You were pinned down by a vampire, trying to get it off of you while Sam fights his way towards you. This was supposed to be a simple hunt and research mission! “Y/N!” You hear Sam yell your name as he gets closer to you. “Y/N! I’m coming!” He yelled just as the vampire was going to bite me. I close my eyes and wince, but the weight against me disappears. I sit up a bit, All that's left of the vamp that was on me is some ashes. Sam and you look around trying to see who or what saved you, but find nothing. Not noticing Michael hiding in the shadows of the warehouse with you guys.

He won’t get to meet you for a while since you’re off helping Sam to get him out of Dean’s body, and he’s busy running around Earth. 

Michael has the upper hand though. You and Sam don’t know that he can hear your thoughts, because that's not a typical soulmate connection to have. You don’t know that you’re his soulmate yet either. So whatever plans you and Sam come up with are easily foiled by him.

Michael likes to try and implant thoughts into your subconscious using the telepathy he’s gotten as your soulmate.

He might convince Dean to work with him by manipulating him and telling him you can be his forever if he just works with him, Michael will even supply that apple pie life Dean wants. 

Michael will still be in control more often than not if Dean agrees though. He’ll let Dean control his body much more often than he currently is if works with him.

And how could Dean resist? Not only would he gain control of his body back, but he’d also get his soulmate and the dream life he wants, and he’d be able to finally act on all of his dark feelings for you while being able to blame it all on Michael.

You still only have Dean’s name on you though. This will infuriate Michael once he finds out. How can you be his soulmate but he’s not yours? It makes him angry and jealous. Shouldn’t he be meant for you just like you are for him?

But it doesn’t matter, as long as you’re with him then everything is fine.

He is extremely manipulative. During one of your attempts to get him out of Dean’s body, Michael takes note of how much you love Dean and how you’re willing to do anything for him. He wants you to feel like that for him. 

So one day after another failed attempt to save Dean Michael makes a deal with you. Give yourself up and you’ll have Dean back. You want to immediately agree but why does he of all people want you specifically to give yourself up?

You demand to know why and he smiles. “Because I want my soulmate by my side.” His smile turns into a grin as he pulls up his sleeve on his right arm, revealing your name on it. You gasp, your jaw unclenches, going slack, and you scramble to look at your left arm. You’re afraid that his name has taken Dean’s place but find it hasn’t changed. “As much as I would love to explain it, I don’t know why my name isn’t on your arm when we’re destined to be together. But that doesn’t matter right now. Will you come with me or not?” He leans towards you as he crosses his arms. You pace in thought for a moment before looking at him, shoulders slumped and frown. “You promise you’ll let him go? Like vacate from him, find a new ‘vessel’ or whatever?” You question and nervously fidget. He licks his lips quickly before gaining an even wider grin, “Yes. I’ll leave his body.”, Michaels lies right through his teeth. He’d be stupid to give up his true vessel, the one that makes him even more powerful than he already was. But you don’t know this, so you reluctantly agree, thinking you’re saving Dean. No matter how much Sam screams at you to not say yes, that we’ll find another way to save him, you can’t hear him over the thought of Dean being free again. “I’ll go with you.”

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere male #yandere headcanon #miss blue writing #ask lyssa #yandere supernatural #yandere soulmate au #lucifer spn #yandere lucifer #gabriel spn #yandere gabriel #michael spn #yandere michael

[the-boy-meets-evil]

not according to plan | hjs (teaser)

summary: your ex-fiance is getting married and everyone you know is going to be there. when he calls to ask if you're coming, you accidentally mention a boyfriend. which would be fine, if you weren't very single. thankfully your best friend comes through with the perfect solution when he sets you up with a friend of his.

pairing: joshua x f.reader genre: fake dating, strangers to ?? | fluff, slight angst, smut rating: explicit (in the full fic), minors DNI word count: ~1.1k in this teaser (full fic ~22k) notes: johnny suh as the ex (sorry!), also includes other idols not in seventeen solely as face claims, there's a heavy focus on the fake dating, mentions of food & drink, warnings to be added to the final fic fic post date: friday, april 26th

a/n: i started this legit months ago as kind of a joke, talking about it with @shuadotcom but it's finally done (and a lot longer than i anticipated).

thank you to: @wonwussy & @kwanisms who read over this for me (too long ago), and to @cheolism @wooahaeproductions @hannieween, & sj for all the brainstorming help along the way. tagging: @aaniag @gyuminusone @crepecakeu

if you'd like to be tagged in this fic (or any of my fics), comment, click here for my tag list, or send an ask 💕

You still think this is a terrible idea, yet agree to meet Jeonghan’s friend, Joshua, anyway. Apparently, he’s somewhat new to the area, doesn’t know many people, and is incredibly easy to be around. There’s no mention of why Jeonghan thinks he might be willing to pretend to be your boyfriend. A part of you wonders if your friend even told him, but he’s not that cruel. So, whatever the case, Joshua must at least have some idea of what he’s walking into. 

Several days pass between the nightmare of a call from Johnny and you actually meeting Joshua, which only adds to your anxiety about whether or not this is going to work. Johnny is asking for a name for the seating chart and for dinner selections. Your mom wants to know when they’ll be able to meet this new boyfriend before the wedding (because “meeting him for the first time at a wedding is gauche” and we wouldn’t want that). Your sister is convinced that he doesn’t actually exist since you haven’t posted him on social media. That you can at least answer to say that not everyone posts their entire life online like she does. It doesn’t seem to allay her suspicions, though. 

Then, there’s the fact that you’re actually meeting Joshua for the first time at dinner. All you wanted was to go for coffee, yet he insisted. You couldn’t exactly press the point. Not when you’re planning to ask this stranger to pretend to date you just so that you can avoid the embarrassment at your ex’s wedding. On top of that, because Jeonghan really is a demon at his core, you don’t know what Joshua looks like. Don’t know who to look for. Which leads to you doing the only sensible thing and showing up 5 minutes late for dinner, hoping that he’ll already be at the table when you get there.

It works.

When you give the reservation name at the host stand, you’re immediately led back to a table. Without even thinking about it, you smooth your hands down the front of your dress, looking for a small amount of comfort in this situation. It’s not even that you struggle around new people, this is just…well, it’s a lot. It’s out of anyone’s comfort zone. Whatever you’re expecting, it’s not the man sitting at the table the host leads you to. He nearly stops you in your tracks. 

His black hair is perfectly styled down to the pieces on one side that come down over his forehead. The black dress shirt he wears is open at least one button too many, but he makes the exposed chest look work in a way models would envy. Even though his pants are black as well, he makes it look classic and effortless, rather than too dark. That’s all without even acknowledging the soft smile on his face. This man would break a thousand hearts without even saying a damn word. While you’re appreciating him, you miss the way his eyes rake over you appreciatively. Miss the way his eyes trace your curves and the way the dress clings to you. 

In one fluid motion, he’s standing up to greet you, a gentle kiss placed on your cheek. Is it weird if your knees are a little weak? Well, even if it is, there’s nothing you can do. You’re completely captivated. 

“You must be Joshua,” you say. Brilliant, you think. That’s obvious.

“It’s nice to meet you. Jeonghan had nothing but good things to say,” he answers with another smile as he pulls your seat out for you. 

“I feel like he hardly told me about you,�� you respond. Joshua raises a perfect eyebrow at that.

“Then why did you agree to go out with me?” Joshua asks. 

“Go out with…is this a date?” The question comes tumbling out. 

Joshua’s eyes widen in genuine confusion. “Is it not?” 

“What, exactly, did Jeonghan say to you?” 

A lot and nothing at all, it turns out. Joshua tells you about how he’s somewhat new to the area, which you knew. About how he met Jeonghan through work, kind of. They work in the same building doing very different things and happened to run into each other getting coffee a handful of times before Jeonghan introduced himself. The two had hung out several times, something Jeonghan had not really mentioned, and gotten to know each other over drinks more than once. The very first time, Jeonghan had mentioned you and Joshua admits immediately being intrigued without pressing for more information. 

In any case, Jeonghan talked about you pretty freely, a fact that’s hardly surprising. Before Joshua texted you, Jeonghan had mentioned, in what Joshua calls an offhand way, that you were sick of dating the same people. According to Joshua, through Jeonghan, you were looking to possibly be set up. (Read: Jeonghan thinks he’s crafty and isn’t going to come out and tell this man what you’re really looking for. Typical Jeonghan, honestly. You know that “offhand comment” was anything but. And you had the audacity to think Jeonghan would have to tell Joshua what he’s getting into. Rookie move.)

Now you’re in a bit of an awkward situation because this man is honestly gorgeous, one of the prettiest humans you’ve ever met. And, already, he seems like he might be sweet with a pretty good sense of humor. It’s just…well, you’re absolutely not looking for a relationship and this is the last person you want to get involved in your mess. Thankfully, you get a moment to catch your breath when someone comes by to take a drink order and suggest an appetizer. It’s just enough time for you to talk yourself into telling Joshua the real story.

To his credit, he only looks mildly surprised as you outline your whole situation, inform him that yes, Jeonghan does know all of this, and clarify why you didn’t actually realize it was a date. It’s hard to miss the way his eyes seem to sparkle a bit when you also admit that he’s absolutely stunning in a way that hurts your feelings. Easier to miss is the way his face barely falls when you say that you’re not actually looking for something right now. Interesting. 

“So that’s the whole thing and now that I’ve embarrassed myself in front of you, I’m sure you’ll understand if we never see each other after tonight,” you finish.

“How am I supposed to go to a wedding as your boyfriend in a matter of weeks if we don’t see each other after tonight?” Joshua wonders.

let me know if you want to be tagged when i post the full fic next week 💕 (and what you think so far)

#joshua smut #joshua fluff #joshua angst #joshua x reader #joshua x you #joshua x y/n #joshua fic #joshua fanfic #seventeen smut #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt x you #svt smut #svt fluff #svt angst #svthub #kvanity #joshua imagines #joshua scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt imagines #svt scenarios

[bloodofgrapes]

May I ask what your top tips for appearing more masc are prior to hrt? No matter how basic, I want to hear them (im desperate) (esp voice-wise)

Well anon, as with all things, your mileage will vary. Are you looking to be fully stealth/cis passing? Do you want to simply feel more masculine? Think about what you really and truly want, not what your friends or society or anything else may tell you, but what YOU specifically would enjoy doing. There is no one way to be masculine, and what works for me may not work for someone else.

With all of that out of the way though, here are a few things that helped me specifically. I'm stealth in real life, and I prefer to be... more or less conventionally masculine. My partner put it aptly: "you look like a boring office worker."

Take fashion advice from cis men/cis oriented groups. No offense to my fellow trans masc/trans men, but taking fashion advice from them is often a case of the blind leading the blind, at least if your goal is to be cis passing. You can dress well and look presentable (I certainly do), but don't put male fashion on a pedestal, because even the best dressed cis men don't--this is just what they're familiar with and they're going about their day the same way you are.

Clothes can get you a good portion of the way there, because I was functionally stealth even prior to starting testosterone (though I will confess a large amount of genetic luck), but if you dress and act with confidence, most people won't put much more thought to you than what is immediately apparent.

Your hair will also massively help you: men tend to favor fairly plain and boring cuts. A traditional cut will help you look more masculine than anything that requires a blow dryer and copious amounts of gel. I'm a boring (and lazy) person, so this suits me just fine, but I know this can get dull really quick to a lot of people, but that's just the way it is. That said, always, ALWAYS get your sideburns and nape squared off rather than tapered, I swear it's like the only irl cheat code for masculinity. The little details are usually what count the most.

On voice, you're in luck. Far too much emphasis is put on having a deep baritone that would put James Earl Jones to shame. You don't need a deep voice to sound like a man, but you do need to consciously keep your speech patterns and the way you speak in mind. Pay attention to the cis men around you, not what you see in media--most of them really don't have voices that are particularly deep. But you'll notice that they don't pitch their voices and inflect the way that women are typically taught to. This has nothing to do with genes, these are purely social skills, and while it's a pain, they can very much be learned by anybody who works at it. Cis men tend to speak much more flatly and bluntly, and use fewer words to get their meaning across (which is a good skill to have no matter your gender, in my opinion). When I put on my Woman Voice™, it's not so much that I speak in a higher pitch (though I do), but that I draw out my words and speak a little more theatrically. A simple "hey, how are you doing?" becomes "Hiiii, it's SO good to see you again, how have you been!"

That's a pretty stark difference! And again, this is just what works for me. I have not cut out any parts of my personality or toned down who I am, not least of all because I'm a pretty flat and monotone person to begin with, but I do restrain certain aspects of how I present myself, particularly with people I'm not close to.

I'm sorry that this is a long winded way to say "dress appropriately, get a decent haircut, and flatten down the way you speak", but I do try to be cognizant of the fact that you can feel and present masculinely in more ways than there are grains of sand on earth. All of the above are things that help me feel better and more comfortable in my own skin, and are not necessarily what I would prescribe other people to do to feel right in theirs. Only you can know what works best for you, which is why I prefaced this with advising you to think long and hard about what would make you happy and comfortable.

That said, if any of the above appeals to you, do a little research. I enjoy browsing Reddit's Male Fashion Advice sub, not least of all because you see an enormous range of fashion that goes beyond t shirts and jeans. Look for men that have face shapes similar to yours to see what kind of haircuts flatter them, and study the way that the men in your life speak, gesticulate, and generally act. Study them like they are animals in a zoo and it's your life mission to document them, and you'll pick up a lot. I hope this helps!

#things that will pull my out of my hidey hole #I've been gone for about a week because I've been busy #but I can never turn down the siren call to try to offer advice where I can #I am again sorry this is so long winded but I hope it helps you anon #I also try to avoid some.... discourse over the concepts of passing and stealth #which I didn't even bother touching on here #I feel that people should do what makes them happy #for me being stealth and cis passing is happiness #anyway I hope it helps to anon or anyone else who might read this

[lucyvaleheart]

.

#sigh. another vent post.... #almost getting tired of making these but. I'm just.... I just don't really have much else I can do without botherin people #uh pretty big trigger warning for this one BTW #don't read on if you're low on spoons and whatnot. genuinely it's fine and I will be fine I always am #but like. yknow. when shit sucks it fucking sucks #anyway. uh. I just can't stand the idea that I might be bothering someone #so at least this way my stupid cries for help have a possibility of getting me some without making any specific #person feel obligated. yknow? maybe you see the post maybe you don't #Maybe you don't read all the way maybe you do. either way you can choose if you have the spoons to reach out #without feeling guilty either way. I hope. #.......i kind of want to fucking kill myself again #.....it used to be a much rarer thought. and I used to be much less struck by intense loneliness and longing like this #but I just feel so fucking needy. so desperate for attention and love and it hurts so much if I don't get it #and like. it's realistically nobody's fault but my own yknow... i need to ask for it more. i know that. i just suck at it #and then I can't ask. so I don't get attention. and in turn I feel neglected. secondary. like I'm not anyone's primary focus #and it just fucking hurts so much and it's just my own damn fault and I don't know how to fix it. #......i do. I need therapy I need meds or something. that's the answer here really #picked out a psychiatrist. need to call and make an appointment. but adhd and executive function and anxiety (that last one I need meds for) #mean it's very hard to both remember and then actually perform the task of calling the fucjing Dr #......believe me I'm trying.....like fuck I'm trying so hard.... and I started bawling having seen sparkles and ms robot girl reblog that #post from me about letting prev know you're proud of them. bawled when quinn called me cutie last night. bawled when #ginny said they wished they were here.... fuck me I do too I want to be the focus of someone's attention so so so so badly #fuck #...............it's redundant to say at this point a second time but. goddess above its a little scary how much I wanna kill myself #........sigh #....anyway. please do not feel obligated to respond to this in any way. do what you got the spoons for. #thank you for even reading all of this shit if you've gotten this far. i love you deeply and with all my heart. I'll be fine I promise #won't act on it no matter how strong the feeling is. just.....hurts in the meantime. but I'll be ok. I promise #................fuck. im going back to bed

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

THEY BOTH BELIEVE NO ONE WILL COME FOR THEM

#HOLY HECK I JUST HAD AN EPIPHANY #actually heck now i want to read the arc that one panel that makes me feral is from #bc two kids who believe no one is going to come for them #one because he just doesn't think he's anyone's priority and the other because the last time he called for help it came too late #but they have EACH OTHER??????? INSANE CRAZY #i like how i take one step into comics fandom and immediately go ah yeah I'm gonna read a random run no context #just bc I was shown one(1) panel that happens to be good #anyway so the POINT HERE: tim just flat out doesn't expect people to care enough to come for him. he's so used to handling stuff himself #and not really having anyone else care. that he just. doesn't expect it. he's sorta resigned to it. #whereas jason held so tightly to the hope that bruce would come for him- that HIS DAD would come for him- in his final moments #that because bruce was too late when he comes back as red hood he just doesn't think b or anyone else will come for him again #especially after the ways he's changed. and that HURTS. it isn't acceptance like tim has it's a scabbed over wound #idk how to explain this but it makes sense in my head. neither of them thinks anyone is coming for them if they need it #bc jason has hoped and been let down and he can't do that again. and tim never had the hope in the first place. #I'm just AUGJJJMKDCNMN THESE TWO #Lu rambles #meta finding tag #batfam #tim drake #jason todd #...the meta is in the tags but hey whatever

[calamitydaze]

long tag ramble below u have been warned

#ok i feel like i should say Something before i start being active again #but i dont want it to be a Statement which is why i’m putting it in the tags #(also bc i procrastinated doing this for weeks so i know this is a very stale topic by now #but i also haven’t been on tumblr literally at all so this is 100% my organic authentic opinion lmao) #so read if you gaf and ignore if you don’t #anyway: george def could’ve done more to ensure she was comfortable #and as someone who has also gotten in over my head with older men and regretted it #her hurt is valid and i’m deeply sorry she feels the way she does about that night #but with that said i see no reason to believe george Should have known how she really felt #or that he deliberately took advantage of either her youth/inexperience or her discomfort #and that’s the most important thing for me— he fucked up and misread a situation but that doesn’t make him an evil person #and i hope they can both move on and grow and heal #as for my future in the fandom: i honestly dunno how active i’ll be going forward #i was already becoming pretty disconnected so this might’ve just sped up the process? i’m tired of being put through the wringer #but i also don’t really have a fandom to replace this so i might just continue casually participating in the way i have been #either way rest assured i will never become a rabid anti. that shits embarrassing #i got HORRIBLE drolo rsd the other day when tommy’s mom needed clout and vagued him so like if nothing else. droloisms are forever #also as a last thing— this feels kinda silly and self centered to say but i will anyway #sorry for not opening up my blog as a forum for discussion again the way i did with the drituation #i know i helped a lot of people sort out their feelings and that was (and is) really really important to me #but it also tanked my mental health (mostly as a result of the fallout and not the act itself but still) #plus my life irl was pretty stressful at the time when everything was first going down #so i just didn’t feel up to putting myself through that again #but i’m sorry if anyone wanted to discuss w me but wasn’t able to #anyway. i think that’s all i have to say! #i don’t want to turn this into a capital D discussion but as always my askbox and dms are open #love you all tons! i hope you’re having a good day 🫂🫶 #bella talks

[calamitousxlove]

I do not like Colleen Hoover books at all, two out of the three I read are probably the worst books I’ve read this year. That being said, I feel like her books are getting the twilight treatment 🧌 otherwise known as: has reasons to be given valid critiques, but instead is hated solely because it has a big audience of young women/girls. Like, I have never met a Colleen Hoover girly that wasn’t nice 💔 why are we insulting the girls who enjoy reading those books, when it’s easy to acknowledge that just because someone likes something doesn’t mean it’s good.

#again I think not liking something is so valid #like I did not like the Colleen Hoover books #at one point I read one solely because I wanted to complain about something #which I guess makes this post hypocritical lol #also this isn’t about anyone who gives actual good critiques #more about how i see so many hate tiktoks towards the Colleen Hoover girlies #like if you’ve never liked something other people deem as bad you are either lying or think very highly of your interest #maybe this is just because I like glee #IM SORRY THIS WAS A VERY RANDOM RANT #but like I keep seeing tiktoks and it’s annoying me #because I am all for making fun of Colleen Hoover #but if it’s just a person on tiktok making a tiktok about how they had a fun time reading something #you do not need to go out of your way to be mean to them 😭 #colleen hoover #anti colleen hoover #<- it’s somehow both at the same time?? #I’m anti Colleen Hoover pro girlies having fun reading #hope this helps #books #anyways I think everyone reading is a good thing :) #unless the author is living and has done something atrociously bad and you don’t pirate their books #i don’t see the issue #meg’s incoherent thoughts

[cloudblaze]

Omen of the Stars + out of context messages my sibling and I have pinned on discord

#i don't remember the exact context for all of these but I can guarantee every single one of them was about video games #my sibling and i have kinda poor memory so we love pinning messages that make us laugh and looking at them later like ''huh???'' #also! the briarlight and jayfeather one. at some point recently briar woke jay up because she was concerned he was having a bad dream #and when i read that part the sentence i put them with instantly popped into my head #which is why i drew them specifically. didn't realize til just now it seems pretty random lol #i hope i drew everyone distinctly enough that you can tell who they are. i didn't wanna fuss with labels like i usually do #anyway! I'm sharing these in case they're funny to literally anyone but me #when i'm feeling a bit art blocked looking at our conversation history for stuff like this genuinely helps! #gives me a reason to draw cats DOING or SAYING something which is always good #and makes me have to get a little more creative than usual. #warriors #warrior cats #oots #my art

[marnz]

every so often i recall that will readings, a now antiquated practice, has been so normalized by media using it as a plot device that people think that's what happens. that it's real. it's not real okay? ppl do not sit down and read a 30+ page technical legal document out loud. it is a fun thing hollywood and books do for the drama and the narrative of it all

#currently #did anyone read that nancy drew book where there's a Will hidden in a clock #very fun #anyway iirc this practice came about bc people were illiterate. #i promise this isn't me being nitpicky for no reason lol i just think it's fun trivia #also honestly grieving and probate and dealing with loss is so hard that i think we could stand to make the process more transparent #every single tv show about law lies about how it works. hope that helps. 💜 #so does maggie stiefvater's the raven cycle but we've already discussed that at length #this is not legal advice #i'm not a lawyer!!!!!! i just work here

[cryptcombat]

My feelings about h*nkai are always extreme, extreme love for the combat and s*mpo, extreme hate for the writing and (female) character design

#pretty sure im the only who thinks this im in the school of free thinkers thinking very unique thoughts 💖 #the only way to make peace with the spoilers i saw is to pick out the parts of story i like and them for ocxcanon material #hoyo multibillion dollar company still can only make like 4 character models that look the same #some might ask if i hate canon sm do i even like the game?? no i don't i like sampo hope that helps 💖💖💖 #i would not rec this dumb gacha game to anyone 💖 #there are typos in the tags idgaf no one reads them anyway

[scattered-winter]

looking to fuck myself up this weekend inquiring top 5 jason comics :)

while there are in fact very many jason comics in this world, asking for 5 good ones is a very tall order. nevertheless I did my best because I love he :]

5: batman: a death in the family

as depressing at it is, it's a great look into the catalyst event that really created jason as he is today <3 it has some.....less than stellar moments (joker becoming an islamic diplomat for some fucking reason, for one. what the fuck, dc) but overall if you're looking for being fucked up <3 that's a good way to go <3 and also a very good starting point for jason comics in general if you're getting into them for the first time!!!*

4: wayne family adventures (on webtoon)

funky and fun :] if you're looking for basic info/characterization on jason (or ANY batman character, tbh) it's a pretty good place to start for people who don't know who they like yet/where else to go. I will say that the character portrayals are VERY surface-level and since the webtoon is more of a comedy/slice of life genre, a lot of the....darker, messier aspects of the characters are left out, and some of the fanon characterizations have some influence on the writing from what I've seen. however it's very good for some fun shenanigans that don't require much brainpower <3

3: countdown: search for ray palmer

jaykyle bible <3 I also really love jason's characterization in this one as well, which is fairly hard to come by because his writing is so inconsistent. if you want clarification on the huge crisis event that this comic is part of, I am the Wrong person to ask <3 I largely ignore the big crises because they're so fucking confusing and I have a brain the size of a peanut

2: red hood: lost days

second to utrh only because of The Unspoken Thing that happens at the end of one of the issues (I.....cannot remember which one for the LIFE of me) that every jason fan has collectively wiped from their memory <3 it never happened <3333 but other than unspoken horrors, it's a good jason read!!! it shows some background on how he grew and changed after his resurrection into the red hood

1: batman: under the red hood

here it is <3 the red hood bible <3 every time someone has an incorrect idea of how jason acts/thinks I am waving this comic under their nose and assigning it like homework. imo this one is essential reading to understand red hood jason and if I had my way it would be required to read before writing ANYTHING about him (both canon dc writers and fanfic writers smfh)

*it's a good place to get into jason if you want to read about him as red hood, since that's the kickoff that begins his red hood journey, but if you want to read more about him as robin it's one of the last things you read. unfortunately I haven't read very many robin!jason comics since (while i LOVE the boy!!!!) he isn't as interesting to me as red hood!jason, but there are people you can ask for recs!!! @/autisticredhood would be a great person to ask for robin jason comics I think <3

ask me my top 5/10 anything!!

#i'm not a gatekeeper but utrh is in fact the jason todd bible and if you havent read it you shouldnt be writing red hood jason <3 #on GOD it was hard thinking of 5 entire jason comics that i actually like. dc cant write him consistently worth SHIT #but regardless!!!!! #these are in no particular order btw!!! they're only in order of how much i personally like them :] #but for people new to jason i would suggest reading death in the family > lost days > under the red hood #with wayne family adventures on the side as a separate thing because its fun to read but not very accurate to jason's characterization #(or Anyone's for that matter) #anyway :] i hope this is helpful :] #for Peak emotional devastation i would suggest death in the family > under the red hood #just because there are so many PARALLELS between the two that make me sooooooo unwell #its been a really long time since ive read lost days so idk where it fits into the emotional devastation aspect #ANYWAY. I KEEP GETTING DISTRACTED #ik there were some mutuals thinking about getting into comics (can't remember WHO) but hopefully this is helpful :] #if you don't know where to find any comics there are a NUMBER of free websites you can use!!! i can rec if needed #day 💫 #jason todd

[that-tall-queer-bassist]

Easiest Cookie Recipe ever

(Use to buy good grades, better social standing, and social interaction) (quick for holiday party potlucks)

My mom stole this off pintrest years ago, and its since been our family favorite!

So since it's holiday season, and i made them this morning, I'm sharing it with y'all :) It has 4 ingredients, takes 7-8 minutes of baking time per sheet, and each batch makes a little over two dozen cookies that are beloved by everyone we can get to try them.

Warning before the actual instructions/recipe, this is written very nuerodivergently and in common terms. It's step by step instructions after the ingredients, with sassy comments galore. I highly suggest reading all the way through before making.

Ingredients:

Box of chocolate cake mix (supposedly pillsbury devil's food works best. Or maybe just any devil's food. Idk she said blue box i can't read minds)

two eggs

1/3 cup of oil

about 2 dozen, or 2 and a half dozen rolo's candies. (aka 24-30)

Steps:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees farenheit

Wash your hands

Line cookie sheets (1-3 for one batch) with parchment paper (VERY IMPORTANT)

Mix the eggs and oil into the cake mix. (a medium sized bowl is preferred for one batch.)

It will take much longer than you expect to mix thoroughly.

Mix with a spatula until the entire thing is evenly mixed. Looks gross and sticky and dark brown and should almost be like oily play dough.

It will take much longer than you expect to mix thoroughly. Keep mixing. I promise it will work (spatula is for scraping the sides and bottom of the bowl, this ones sticky.)

Wash your hands

Unwrap all of the rolo candies. Helpful to do it before you need to.

Take a spoon, and get a small spoonful of the dough.

Use your hands*, and mush the dough around one rolo until it has a core of caramel goodness that will later melt.

Should be around the size of a ping pong ball, and no larger than a golfball unless you want unevenly cooked cookies.

Space them evenly on the parchment paper (Staggering works well. doesn't matter if they touch during baking when they spread, but try your best.)

Wash your hands. (your hands will be gross at this point)

Bake for 7-8 minutes Exactly.

They never look done until they're over cooked. Take them out at 8 minutes max. If you're not sure, break one open at 5 minutes and see if the dough is uncooked. It never is. idek how.

Wash your hands

Let cool for about 5 minutes, to give the caramel time to solidify enough, then lift the parchment paper up to unstick the cookies from the pan.

Let cool for another 10 minutes.

If you ignored the parchment paper rule, lets hope you like doing dishes and used lots of cooking spray on the cookie sheets :) (you will be spending an hour scraping caramel and burnt sugar off the pans. I told you it was important.) (Oh, and all of your cookies left their bottom half on the pan. Also happens if you don't move them after 5 minutes of cooling.)

Optional - Sprinkle powdered sugar on them for extra holiday flair. (It makes them look pretty instead of brown lumps)

Yay! Cookies are done! It's chocolate, with a caramel inside that will surprise anyone who didn't make them!

Can theoretically be made without gluten,and/or milk. It has not been tested. Fuck around and find out? (and lemme know if you do!)

*FOR ANY OF MY FELLOW NUERODIVERSE PEOPLE

If the stickiness of the dough on your skin bothers you (or is just too sticky to work with) you can use margarine on your hands like a lotion to keep it from sticking. It feels worse to me personally, but I figured I'd say it anyways just in case. Dawn dish soap makes the margarine and cookie dough come off the fastest by breaking through the oils.

#WASH YOUR HANDS #GERMS BAD WHEN COOKING #DO IT #anyways. back to tags #cookie recipe #holiday cookies #nuerodivergent writing #long post #holidays #holiday party panic has been cancelled #seriously these are a lifesaver #and easy for kids to help with #nuerodivergent baking #send this to anyone who needs cookies #best cookies ever #i promise #I wish i could underline things #it would make this easier to read #im sorry if this is hard to read. formatting online is much harder than on paper like im used to #I really hope the creator of the recipe never shows their face. I will never be able to credit anyone but my mom. #its my mom's recipe. y'know?