#Feel free to ignore just sharing in case anyone wants to help out

[hippiegoth97]

Random Spencer Reid Thought #1

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, smut, fem!reader, bau!reader, new relationship, sex at work, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, fingering, no use of Y/N, caught in the act (kinda, at the end), fluff

Some Tags: @hotwritergf @melodymunson @rafeyscurtainbangs @mediocredreams @loserboysandlithium

@bloodibambiidoll @littlexdeaths @sanctumdemunson @cairro-xx @veemoon (tbh I wasn't sure who all to tag, so I tagged some moots and people I know usually read my stuff. Feel free to ignore if it's not your thing tho lol)

"I swear to god, you're gonna get us caught one of these days, Reid." You say breathlessly, tugging on Spencer's tie to keep his lips close to yours. You'd dragged him into a nearby supply closet after the rest of the team had dispersed for lunch, most of them heading to a new BBQ place nearby. They'd asked you and Spencer to come along, but you've both had much more pressing things on your mind.

From the second you came in this morning (separately, of course, even though he'd stayed the night at your place), your eyes have wandered from your work to each other's desks from across the cluster. It's been absolute torture, forced to sit so far apart, unable to touch each other or whisper all the dirty things you plan to do later. All you had to get yourself by was vivid thoughts of Spencer tossing his papers away, stalking over to you, and bending you over your desk to fuck you silly. You're sure he was picturing similar filthy things, given how often he cleared his throat and crossed or uncrossed his legs. Although, the ideas inside his head are usually more centered around getting down on his knees and burying his face between your thighs. It's a wonder that nobody seemed to notice your discomfort, really. The amount of stolen glances and fidgeting in your seats are certainly behaviors that should set off a profiler's internal alarms. But, thus far, you've managed to fly just below everyone's radar.

You've been seeing each other for a few months now, keeping it a secret from everybody else. It started off as a fluke date shortly after you joined the BAU team, and Spencer took a shine to your quick wit and bottomless well of intellect in no time at all. He'd asked you out for coffee (after a barrage of peer-pressuring encouragement from Morgan), wanting to show you around a bit as you were new to the area at the time. Spencer was a complete gentleman, opening the door for you, pulling out your chair, offering you his jacket when you got cold. Add on the way you talked one another's ears off about everything under the sun, moon and stars, and you were hooked on each other in an instant. Neither of you had met anyone who could keep up, or maintain your interest before. By the time he walked you home that night, you shared in the knowledge that this...spark you felt was something special.

Things progressed rather quickly from there. You've gone out together at least once a week, even sneaking out at night during cases to get some quality time in. A dinner here, a tipsy make-out in either of your hotel rooms there, as well as more educational outings to the planetarium, various lectures, and art exhibits when you're at home base. It didn't take long to heat things up, either. Spencer was less experienced than you, having only a couple casual hook-ups under his belt, which went as awkwardly as one would expect. But you were patient with him, showing him what you like and what you don't, helping him figure out the same for himself. It was a simultaneously experimental and exhilarating experience for you both when you finally had sex the first time.

And now, here you are, all wandering hands and moaning mouths in a closet full of office supplies. Spencer's got you sitting on a metal filing cabinet, legs spread in your pencil skirt as he stands between them. His large hands grip and squeeze your thighs, while he rolls his hips to press his erection against your clothed cunt. "Don't act as if the idea of getting found out doesn't turn you on." Spencer teases, smiling against your lips as you tug him forward into another kiss.

"Maybe a little." You admit, letting his tongue slip into your mouth. Your eyes drift closed, and you feel his hand slowly slip further down your leg and under your skirt. His lithe fingers pull your panties to the side, rubbing sensual circles around your clit. You moan down his throat, your own hands reaching blindly for his belt now. You don't have a lot of time, as much as you hate to rush this.

"We should tell them soon. It's only a matter of time before they catch on." Spencer suggests, slipping two fingers into your soaked pussy with ease. The sound he ends up swallowing from your lungs makes his dick twitch inside his pants. Never in his life did he think he'd be so lucky to find a woman like you, or a woman at all, for that matter. Spencer enjoys every moment spent with you like it's his last, and it's been nice existing in this safe romantic bubble. But sneaking around has its disadvantages, namely having to keep his hands to himself when you're around the team. Far be it from Reid to be unprofessional in any sense, but, fuck, it's so hard to behave when you're around.

"I know, Penelope's been dropping lots of extra hints lately." You say with a light laugh, your insides boiling as Spencer curls his digits inside of you. They're perfectly long and slender, reaching all the right places every time. He's made you come with them alone on many occasions.

"I noticed. She's not very subtle." Reid chuckles, his gaze drifting down as you manage to get his belt unfastened. You waste no time in undoing to button and zip, reaching inside his boxers to grab hold of his aching length. According to you, he's very well endowed. Even though he's aware the average size of male genitalia is 5.1 inches when erect, he's never gotten curious enough to measure himself. A brief visual guess probably puts him at around seven or eight, not that he's all that concerned about it. All he cares about it making you happy, and his mind is far too vast to be fixated on how long his cock is.

"I don't think she ever has been." You comment, eyes focused on Spencer's dick in your grasp. He's rock solid, his tip rosy pink and leaking pearlescent precum. The sight makes your pussy throb around Reid's fingers. If you had more time, you'd drop to your knees in an instant.

"And that's why we love her." Spencer adds, groaning as you stroke him nice and slow. The both of you keep this up for a moment, zeroing in on one another's most sensitive areas that you've craved all day. Soft sighs and moans leave your mouths, mingling with the wet schlick sounds of your foreplay. "But, enough about the team." He says softly, meeting your gaze. His free hand cups your cheek, drawing you in closer as you stare into his beautiful brown eyes. "This moment is just for us." He nearly whispers as he kisses you deeply, lovingly. Neither of you have dropped the 'L' word yet, though you both certainly feel it for one another. But the time to say it definitely isn't during a lunchtime quickie in a damn closet. The occasion will present itself, at a later date.

While Spencer has your attention captured in the kiss, he gently takes his cock from your grasp and into his own. He gasps against you, tangling his tongue with yours to make your knees weak, just like you taught him. He gives his dick a couple fervent strokes, taking his fingers out of your cunt so he can line himself up. You whine at the loss, though your stomach twists in anticipation of what will soon take their place. Using his pruned fingers to hold your panties to the side, the sticky tip of Spencer's cock nudges against your center. More moans brew within your throats, kept hidden inside to prevent you from being discovered.

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, hands tangling in his hair as you melt into him. His lips and tongue make you feel dizzy with lust, and his cockhead rutting against your folds is sending you into orbit. "Spence, please. I need you, baby." You plead between desperate kisses.

"I need you, too, you have no idea." Reid replies, pulling back just a moment so he can see what he's doing. He positions his dick at your entrance, and pushes inside at an agonizing pace. Low moans escape you both, you at the stretch, and him at the squeeze. "Fuck, you're so wet." Spencer says, trying to keep his cool.

"All for you, Spence." You say sweetly, locking your ankles behind his back, pulling him as close to you as possible with your legs. His hands return to your thighs, holding on tight as he begins to thrust.

Spencer starts off slow, watching as his cock pumps in and out of your pussy with no resistance. Your arousal makes him all shiny in the dim light, already forming a creamy ring around his base. "God, you're perfect." He exhales, unable to think of a single thing that looks as beautiful as this. The two of you, becoming one, your interlocking parts sculpted by nature to fit together flawlessly. Nothing within his expansive memory could possibly compare.

"So are you, baby. Can you go faster? We're running out of time." You beg pathetically, needing this release before you inevitably have to go back to work filling out papers and looking over crime scene photos.

"I hate how right you are about that." Spencer replies with a broken sigh, picking up speed with his thrusts. The infallibly accurate internal clock you share is ticking down, every push of his hips against yours marking each second that's taken from you. He plants his lips on yours again, focusing on giving you what those desperate noises you're making are telling him. You need him, all of him. Every last inch rutting into your sopping cunt until you see stars. And when it comes to you, Reid always aims to please.

"Fuck, Spence, just like that." You pant between fervent kisses, marveling at the way his cock pounds into your g-spot with flawless precision. The coil of arousal you've been building up since you sat down with your coffee this morning ripples and tangles with every thrust.

It becomes rather difficult for Spencer to keep kissing you when his pace picks up even more. His head falls forward, resting on your shoulder as he continues to wind you both up towards ecstasy. He turns his head slightly, hatching the naughty idea to speak lowly in your ear. "I can't wait until we get home later, and I can take my time with you." He says, trying so hard not to let the loud groans he wants to emit come through. They come out as hushed whimpers instead, which only turns you on more.

"Fuck." You let out a small noise of your own, muted as you bite down on your lower lip. But he hears it all the same, and keeps going.

"I'll spend all night touching you in all your favorite places, fuck you until the sun comes up, make you cry out for me as many times as you ask me to." His words are equally filthy and adoring, showing you just how much he wants to worship you and your body. Chills run up and down your spine as he speaks, his breath burning hot against your neck. It's nearly too much, and yet, you can't enough.

"God, Spence, please don't stop!" You moan, far too loudly.

"Now who's gonna get us caught?" Reid teases, even though the way you squealed nearly made him blow his load entirely.

"Sorry...sorry..." You pant the words out, for fear of being too loud again.

"It's okay, baby. I like knowing just how good I make you feel." He coos to you, almost sending you over the edge. Your walls squeeze around him tightly in warning. His breath catches at the sensation, right there with you in terms of how close you are to reaching climax. "God, that's it...you're so close, so am I. Gonna make you cum, gonna make you feel so good, I swear...so fucking good..." Spencer's mind sprints faster than his mouth can get the words out, barely audible as he buries himself further into your neck. He slams himself into you even harder, faster, chasing his release and dragging you alongside him.

"Spencer, oh my god." You gasp as he hits that perfect place inside you cunt even better than before, his hips pounding against yours hard enough to leave bruises. His hands dig into the flesh of your thighs, his mouth sucking and licking at your neck in a feverish need to make you lose control. It's definitely working, the waves of bliss beginning to roll over you in thick crashes. "Oh, god, make me cum, baby...don't stop, you feel so good..." You babble mindlessly as your insides flutter around Reid's dick, threatening to clamp down on him at any moment. "Fuck, oh, I'm gonna cum...oh, god- fuck...oh, spenceSpenceSPENCE!" You clap a hand over your mouth to conceal your scream as your orgasm takes hold. You tremble violently in Spencer's grip, your pussy strangling him with all its might. Stars blur your vision, pure pleasure coursing through your veins at lightning speed. You cling to him, nails clawing at his back, heels digging into his ass helplessly.

"Fuck-ing- god." Spencer stutters out as you squeeze him so tight, biting down hard into your neck to muffle the load groan rushing from his chest. He pierces you sloppily through his release, painting your eager walls with thick ropes of sticky white, hips stuttering and feral grunts leaving him with every stab of his spent cock. He gradually comes to a stop as your shared high subsides, pulling his softening length from you, watching as your mixed release flows from your now-sore cunt. He reaches into his pocket for a kerchief he keeps for such occasions, gazing adoringly into your lust-drunk eyes as he cleans you up. He would use his mouth, if there were time for such things.

You gasp as the soft fabric meets your puffy lips, never breaking Spencer's stare while he takes care of you. You've never felt more in love in your life than you do right now, with your legs still spread wide open, while this gorgeous, scrawny, genius wipes your combined spend away. Once you're all clean, he pulls your skirt back down over your legs, and puts his flaccid cock inside his pants, fastening the belt with casual ease. He helps you down from the cabinet, noting your wobbling legs as you stand in your sensible heels.

"All set?" He asks, earning a giggle from you as his hair has become more of a mess than usual.

"Almost." You say softly, smoothing down his unruly locks to look more presentable, and less like you two just went to town on each other over lunch. "Well, we'd better get back out there. The others should be arriving back now." You say, heading for the door first. You hate to leave at all, but the last thing you need is to get caught right now.

"I'll wait the three minutes, and meet you back in there." Three minutes, the amount of time you'd determined was appropriate enough to excuse you both coming back to the bullpen near the same time without raising suspicion. No one bats an eye at three minutes difference. It could be explained away as a coffee refill, a bathroom break, anything really. But returning at the same time? Or leaving this small room at the same time? Out of the question. You'd made the mistake of returning at the same time once, and you didn't hear the end of it from the team for a good three days, despite the assertion that you and Reid had been in separate places at the time.

"Okay. See you then." You nod, giving him a quick kiss. You open the door, checking to see if the coast is clear. Satisfied with your findings, you step out from the closet, closing the door behind you. You're about to turn and walk in the direction of the bullpen, when you end up smack dab in front of Penelope. You have no idea where she came from just now, or how long she's been hiding out. But the sly smirk on her face tells you she knows enough. "Hey, Garcia. How was your lunch?" You ask nervously, failing to play it cool.

"Oh, it was good. I brought some leftover eggplant parmesan from home." Penelope replies, nearly bursting with the knowledge that you and Reid have indeed been hooking up, as she rightly suspected. "How was yours?" She asks coyly, biting her lip as she expects you to spill all the gory details she couldn't hear through the door.

"It was...fine. I packed a lunch as well." You answer, clearing your throat.

"Oh, I'm sure you packed something. What did you have? Some sausage maybe? Or a footlong?" Penelope continues to tease, and at this point, you know the jig is up.

"Oh, alright! Yes, I did! You happy now?" You exclaim, rolling your eyes as your arms cross out of reflex.

"I knew it! I knew it!" Garcia chuckles, doing one of the dorkiest victory dances you've ever seen. The few passersby give her a sideways glance, but she doesn't pay them any mind.

"Okay, okay!" You put your hands on her shoulders to still her, meeting her eyes. "Look, can you just promise me you won't say anything? Spencer and I plan to tell everyone when the time is right, but we like keeping this thing to ourselves for now. Alright?" You implore with her to keep her mouth shut, for your sake, as your friend, and Spencer's.

"Yeah, I can do that." She nods in understanding, pulling you in for a hug. "I'm so happy for you guys!" She squeals, getting excited again.

"Thanks, Garcia. I appreciate that." You smile, returning her embrace.

"So do I." Spencer says from the other side of the door.

"You better treat her right, pretty boy! Or mama is gonna get you!" Penelope warns with all the love in the world.

"I fully intend to." Spencer replies, and you can practically see his lovesick expression from out here, and how his eyes must be looking straight at where he imagines you're standing, meaning every one of those four simple words.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

A Step Towards Him

Part Two of Betrayal. Or how meeting Gothams Vigilantes leads you to look for your ex. Does it count as a Fix-it fic if it's my own work? I do not follow the canon timeline in this. ~2.8k words

The world changes for you after that night, after finding out your boyfriend is a crime lord. And not just any crime lord. Gotham's biggest. It shatters you. You take some time off of work, request to be transferred off the case. Gordan gives you strange, worried looks over it, but doesn't ask. It makes you want to hide in your office and sob.

The world changes around you too. You try to ignore the reports about Red Hood, but you can't. Not when helicopters catch footage of him confronting Batman. Not when he's sighted entering an abandoned building before it explodes. (No, you don't throw up when you hear the news. Or let out uncontrollable sobs in the bed that he used to share.) Not when he comes back as some sort of vigilante, a protector of crime alley. (No, you don't drop to your knees in relief in front of the television.)

Your life finds some rhythm of normal. You go to work. You cook dinner alone. You curl under your comforter. You convince yourself the bed doesn't feel empty. That life is normal. Except some things aren't. 

It starts with Nightwing. He drops down next to you when you're picking through an active crime scene. It doesn't set off any warning bells at first, the Bats always seem to be where they're needed. Then he speaks.

"So, you and Red Hood?" He asks, voice light and teasing.

You nearly jump out of your skin to look at him wide eyed, before your head whips around to see if anyone's heard. They haven't, the crime scene is empty save for the two of you. You turn back to him, hackles raised and eyes narrowed. "How do you–"

He shrugs, smiling easily like he's not dragging the shattered pieces of your heart across the coals. "Found out by accident."

"Well, we aren't together anymore." You huff, averting your gaze from him and back to the crime scene. You know he's analyzing you, even under his relaxed demeanor. You're just not sure what he's looking for. 

"That's a shame." Nightwing chirps, spinning the sticks in his hands you know are equipped with enough electricity to bring down a rhino. 

You can't help the wince you make at that. "Why?"

"It seems like he really liked you." 

You tap your fingers against your thigh anxiously, a mannerism he definitely sees. You know Jason– Red Hood liked you. He used to say all that and more against your skin when he thought you were sleeping. (You don't relive that memory when everything's heavy and your stomach twists and you need something good.) "It's in the past." You answer instead. 

He opens his mouth to answer, but you never hear what he wanted to say. The sound of lab techs arriving at the crime scene draws your attention. By the time you turn back to him, he's already gone. You shake your head, trying not to read into the vigilantes' words. Damn Bats.

There's a kid in your office. Not just any kid. Red Robin. Ok, sure, he's not exactly a child, but he's definitely a teenager and definitely should not be sitting at your desk, in your office, and typing on your computer.

"Um, hello, Red Robin. Is there something I can do for you...?" You ask, lingering in the middle of the room. 

He looks up, turning your computer slightly towards you. You step closer to look. "Have you thought about using this cipher here?"

You glance over the screen. Huh. He's right. That code had been troubling you for a week. Leave it to a Bat to get it done in a day. "Oh. Thanks, that's pretty impressive work."

He grins at you and sits back in your seat. "That means you have some free time to talk to me?"

You eye him wearily, remembering your encounter with Nightwing. "I– yeah. Sure. Of course I do."

"Great!" He practically lights up and starts rambling. "Did you know Red Hood has a direct comlink to the batcave? And he saved that family from the Park Row explosion last week. Did you know he likes to read? He's kind of a nerd but–"

"Woah, woah, hey." You cut him off. "Look, I heard about the rescue and I know about the– uh, reading stuff, okay? What's this about?" He studies you, he can probably read your emotions better than you know them yourself. He probably knows exactly what you're feeling about Red Hood.

He smiles wider at you, like he's found what he was looking for, and stands up, almost bouncing to the window. "No reason. Just wanted you to know." He's launched his grappling hook and is out of sight before you can get another word in.

You groan, burying your face in your hands. Bats.

You're almost expecting it when you find yourself in the presence of the next vigilante. Sitting alone in an unmarked car, the most boring stakeout of your life isn't so boring anymore when Batgirl drops herself onto the hood of your car. You only embarrass yourself a little bit by yelping, spilling what's left of your coffee on the dashboard. She's at the door and tugging the handle by the time you've frantically wiped down the lukewarm liquid off the car. 

You unlock the door. If you didn't know better you would have said the stitches in her mask turned upward. 

She slides into the passenger seat.

It's quiet for a long time. So long you actually start to get comfortable with her being in the car with you. 

"Brother."

Your gaze snaps to her. "What?"

"Tries." 

You blink at her. She's already leaving the car as gracefully as she entered it. Okay. Okay. Definitely nothing to read into there. There's no way she was talking about him. Jason– 'no' you correct yourself– Red Hood is definitely not related to Batgirl and he's definitely not anything else she says he is. 

Work was particularly long today, your shoulders ache, your head is pounding. It's a relief when you finally open the door to your apartment.

"I understand why Todd likes you so much."

"Motherfu–" You half shout, reaching for the baseball bat by the door before you stop short, gaze settling on Robin, who seemed to have made himself comfortable in your home. 

He waves a picture at you, one with you and Jason together, the one you took during a date to Gothams botanical garden. The one you know you had tucked away under your bed. 

You exhale heavily, far too tired to find the energy to scold the kid and lecture him about boundaries. "What are you doing here, Robin?"

"I am here to join the others in their endeavors to reconnect you and Todd."

You tense, jaw dropping a little before you can gather yourself. "No one's doing that."

He places the picture carefully down on the counter. "Of course they are. You're good for Todd. And he asked for you when he was coming out of the fear toxin hallucinations. That shows trust."

"He what?" You ask, voice pitched and startled.

"He asked for you." Robin responds, voice steady and factual. "You didn't know?"

You shake your head, thoughts racing. 

"Oh." He looks unsure, you've never seen any of the Bats look unsure, it snaps you out of your spiraling. "Perhaps, don't mention I told you?"

"Course, Robin. I won't." You answer, and you're relieved when your voice doesn't shake.

He nods, like he expected that answer, but you're not sure if he did. 

"Can I get you anything?" You ask and he actually looks surprised. 

"No. I need to return to patrol. Technically my route doesn't cover this area."

"Oh?" You prompt, unable to keep yourself from prying. "Whose does?"

He scoffs like it's obvious on his way out your window. 

Despite your exhaustion, sleep doesn't come easily that night.

Your final straw is Batman, because of course it is. 

Gordan had handed you a stack of files. "Detective, I need you to take this to the roof, I have the mayor waiting in my office to hear more about the Freeze situation." He rolls his eyes, dark circles and lack of sleep evident on his eyes. "Though he should know by now hounding my officers won't change anything."

"Sir," You start, "can Montoya do it?"

He gives you a pitying look. "Sorry, Detective. Montoya's in archives. You're the only one I can trust with this."

That's how you ended up on the roof of the GCPD precinct. 

"Detective." A low, distinct voice behind you nearly makes you jump out of your skin, even if you knew he was coming. 

You whip around, only relaxing when your gaze settles on Gothams Dark Knight. You silently offer him the files. He takes them, but doesn't look at them, watching you instead. Analyzing you. Studying. It's starting to get nerve wracking being judged by every vigilante Gotham has to offer.

"I know you and Red Hood–"

"Please don't." You cut him off with more bravery than you knew you had.

He doesn't. You look away. But the time you've found the courage to turn back, he's gone. 

You're walking through crime alley, alone, at night, just a few days later. You're not completely sure what your plan is, what you want out of this. But settling whatever is lingering between you and Jason is worth the danger. 

But, danger never finds you. You don't make it two minutes into crime alley before the sound of boots hitting the ground behind you reaches your ears. You know it's him. You know he could have done that soundlessly, but he let you hear him. It steadies some of the unease in your chest.

"What are you doing here?" His voice sounds robotic through the voice modulator, but his shoulders are stiff, body tense, when you turn to face him. You notice his fingers twitch towards you, that soothes another ache in your chest. 

"I wanted to talk to you." You say slowly, carefully. It feels more daunting now that you're here, in his element. 

He looks around. "It's too open."

You follow his gaze, the streets seem empty, but you know Gotham well enough that the shadows have ears. "Then where?"

He considers you for a moment. "The roof. Can I– can I carry you? Just to get us to the roof faster. Or I could drop a fire escape for you?"

"Oh. Um, sure, I don't mind you carrying me. How do you plan on getting us up there, exactly?" You ask, voice pitching slightly at the thought of being close to him again.

He holds up something you recognize as a grappling gun as he steps to your side, hooking an arm around you and firmly tugging you against him. "Hold on."

You wrap your arms around his neck and air is flying past your ears before you've even realized your feet have left the ground. 

He lets go of you slowly once you're both settled on the roof, hand lingering at your waist to make sure you don't fall over. "Good?"

"Good." You echo, and he reluctantly moves to give you space. 

"So, why are you putting yourself in danger just to talk to me? You know these streets aren't safe." He crosses his arms over his chest, it would seem defensive if you didn't recognize the stiffness in his shoulders, like he's bracing for the worst. You wish you could see behind his mask.

"I– could you talk to your family? They keep coming to see me and I think they have the wrong idea." You tell him, voice careful and even.

"Wait, wait. My family?" His arms drop to his side, confusion apparent even through the modulator his helmet.

"Yes? Some of the other vigilantes came to see me a few times–" 

He curses softly, shifting and clenching his fists. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. They shouldn't have done that."

You falter, "I didn't mean it in a bad way."

He sighs heavily, like he's carrying all of life's burdens as he unclenches his fists. "I know. It's not you I'm mad at." He shifts his weight, unsure. "It's just– you should have meant it. I'm not good."

You straighten out, upset he would even consider himself that after how much he's changed, tried to be good, succeeded at being good. You'll never admit it, but you can't help but follow every story about him, every tiny detail about what he does. "That's not true. I'm the one that's not good."

He levels you with look. "Don't act like I don't know you. You are good. You wouldn't have given up running my case if you weren't. You could have run me out of Gotham."

"You know about that?" You ask softly.

"No shit, I know about it. I know you." He says it like it's a fact, a universal truth. 

"But I– I broke up with you. Without really listening. I didn't try to understand." You protest, because with all the bad he's ever done, the good he's done– the fact that he's trying– outweighs it all.

He tilts his helmet towards you. "Because Iied to you. I was using you."

"You said you stopped that."

"I did." He answers, firm and resolute, then sighs out your name. "But I still did that to you, I still hurt you." He pauses, "Look, I'll talk to the others. They won't bother you again, okay? Just– Let me take you home."

"I don't want to go home." You step closer to him. You've decided what you want.

He seems to freeze at the movement. "You don't want to go home?" He repeats slowly, carefully like the words don't make sense to him.

"Red Hood– Jason. I'd like– I miss you, okay? I miss waking up next to you, I miss making dumb jokes with you when we cook, I miss cuddling with you while we make fun of movies together. I want to– I want to try again. If you'd let me."

"If I'd let you?" He echoes your words again. It makes your face fall, how stoic he seems. Then, his mask is clattering against the roof, his gloves tugged off and dropped haphazardly so he can cup your face with his hands. He leans his forehead against yours, and breathes out your name. "I'd let you take anything you wanted from me."

You grab his wrists, intent on keeping him close after so long apart, as your heart races, your breath catches and everything centers on him. Your eyes dart over his face, trying to see the truth in his eyes. 

"I mean it. If all you ever wanted from me was friendship, just someone to keep your bed warm at night, or something more. I'd give that to you." His eyes dart over your face in return, wanting to make sure you understand his words, his feelings for you. 

"I want more. I want you." You say quickly, because he needs to know he's important to you. That he matters to you and what he does as Red Hood didn't and can't change that. 

He lets out a breathless laugh and kisses you. It sets your nerves on end and for the first time since you told him you didn't want to see him, you feel grounded. You kiss him back, hands leaving his wrists to grab the leather of his jacket and draw him closer. 

He only pulls away when you're both gasping for air. "I know I have a lot to make up for–."

"So do I." You cut off.

"Then maybe we're even, yeah? A fresh start." He says softly, tracing the curve of your jaw with his thumb.

You smile and tilt your head up to kiss him again, sweet and lazy before leaning back. "I'd like that."

He's smiling when he kisses you again, and neither of you move to untangle yourselves until you hear whooping and cheering coming from the rooftop across the street.

It's been a few weeks since then. And your relationship is good, better than before, if that's even possible. You're picking over snacks in the grocery store with Jason when an elderly, but alert looking man walks up to the two of you. 

"Ah, I see this is your partner you've been trying to hide from us?" 

Jason straightens out, "Alfred? What are you– uh, yes. Yes. This is them." 

You grin, pulling your fingers from Jason's to reach out and shake Alfred's hand, offering him your name as you do. 

Alfred's eyes seem to twinkle and he nods approvingly as he introduces himself. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you. You're welcome to dinner any night, I know the others are eager to officially meet you."

Jason groans a little, and he rests his hand against the small of your back. "We'll think about it, Alfred."

Alfred smiles knowingly at you, "Of course. Take your time."

And as you lean into Jason's side, you have a feeling you'll be making it to that dinner sooner rather than later. 

A Side Story

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

I've had a bit of brainrot today and have to share so I can get it out of my head (maybe) so feel free to ignore lol I've been thinking of 141 having a civilian spouse (separately, just in case there was confusion) that only ever refers to them by their call sign/rank during an emergency situation. Using it just immediately sets off sirens and they see red. - 🐍

Yesss. Got a bit carried away with this one, lol. Only did 141 specifically, lmk if you'd like to see anyone else! Also tried my best to make this GN!😊

141 With Reader Who Uses Their Callsign in Emergency Situation

Warnings: mentions of guns, violence, unwanted advances/touching, stalking, swearing, injury, crying--- I promise it has a good ending😅

Simon Ghost Riley-

"Golly, aren't you a fine looking thing." You heard a voice say behind you, as you were standing at the bar getting you and Simon another drink. Simon had just gone to the bathroom, so you knew you were on your own for this.

You turned around and were met with a man double your size, a sickening smile making its way on his face.

"Oh, thank you." You mustered a small smile before turning back to the bar, praying the man would take the hint and leave you alone.

"No, I mean it. I could take that little ass of yours home right now." The man came closer, and you could just start to feel his breath on your neck, making you cringe.

"I have a boyfriend, I'm sorry." You tried softly. You were desperate at this point, your eyes searching for Simon.

"I don't see him anywhere." The man smiled, his teeth were yellow, and his breath reeked of cheap booze.

"He just went to the restroom." You mumbled.

You felt a hand grope your ass slightly, squeezing at the flesh there. "Mmhmm, if I were your boyfriend, I'd never leave you unattended like this."

You cried out, moving to swat the guys hand away, to no avail. Nobody around you seemed to notice your predicament, and you were starting to grow scared.

The man pushed you up against the counter, his hand now gripping your waist. "Be a good little pet and come with me, okay?"

You struggled against his hold and screamed out, "Ghost!"

Simon, who had just exited the restroom, heard the wail and immediately started to run to you. What he saw had him seeing red.

He forced himself between you and the man and grabbed his hand roughly. "Who the fuck do you think you are touching them."

The man looked as if he was about to piss himself, as Simon was nearly a half foot taller and twice as bulky. "Sorry, man, they acted like they wanted it."

Simon seethed and twisted the man's wrist with such force that you swore you heard bones cracking. "Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. Here. Before I decide to do something that'll end with me in jail."

The man let out a small whimper, grabbed his now bruised hand and ran for the door.

Simon watched as he fled, then turned his attention to you, his eyes softening. "Y/N? Sweetheart, are you okay?"

Your eyes filled with tears as you threw yourself into Simon's chest. "Thank you, Si."

"You don't have to thank me. That's what I'm here for, yeah? Why won't we go home, I'll draw you a bath." He pulled away and cupped your cheeks, carefully pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

You nodded your head slowly and let Simon lead you out of the bar, not expecting him to crouch down on the ground once you made it outside. "Si?"

"Cmon, get on my back. Long way to the car." He gestured to his back and helped you on it, holding your legs tightly as he walked you to his car. He'd be damned if he ever let anything like that happen again to his person.

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

You were walking around your local department store one afternoon with Kyle, looking to find him some new dress shirts. The two of you had a friends wedding to attend that weekend, and Kyle didn't have many outfits to pick from.

"What about this one?" You picked out a light blue stripped dress shirt, holding it up for Kyle to see.

"I'll look like a grandpa with that one, babe." He joked, waiving away the shirt.

"You'd be a hot grandpa." You countered, putting the shirt back.

"Oh hush. I gotta run to the restroom, I'll be right back." He chuckled as he gave your arm a squeeze. You watched him walk away with a small smile before returning to the racks in front of you.

Unbeknownst to you, there was a gentleman who'd been following you and Kyle around the store for some time now, and now that Kyle was gone, it was the perfect opportunity to strike.

You were just rounding the next row of racks when the man came up behind you and started to pull on your purse. You cried out, trying to pull back, but the man was too strong. He yanked with one mighty tug, ripping the purse from your arm, and shoved you backward, sending you toppling into the racks behind you.

"GAZ!" You screamed, as the man stared at you, frozen, before turning the other way and running.

Kyle was walking toward you when he heard you scream, and his blood ran cold. He immediately sprinted in your direction, running right into the man with your purse. The man fell backward, and Kyle looked down to see him clutching your purse.

He put his foot on the man's stomach and pushed down hard. "Give me the fucking purse, asshole."

The man refused and tightened his grip on your bag. Kyle saw red and promptly punched the man square in the jaw, knocking him out cold. He grabbed your purse as a few workers finally came to check on the commotion.

Kyle looked to see you clutching your head in pain. He ran over to you, sliding to a crouch position once he got to you. "Baby! Are you okay?"

Your bottom lip trembled as a strangled cry escaped your throat, and Kyle grabbed you, pulling you to his chest. He had to talk himself down from going and giving the man another few punches.

He tucked his arm underneath your legs and lifted you up bridal style. "I'm so sorry, babe. I've got you. Let's go home. Yeah?"

Kyle spent the rest of the night watching over you and icing the bruise that formed on your head. He made a silent vow that day, that he'd beat the ever loving shit out of anyone who dared touch his baby again.

John Price-

BANG!

You looked up from your computer in your home office at the sound of the loud noise. It was late at night, and John was asleep, so you were concerned as to what caused the sound. You grabbed the pocket knife out of your drawer and made your way quietly to investigate.

Peeking your head around the doorway, you saw a large man making his way through your shared home with your husband. It appeared he'd somehow broken in through the front door.

You let out a small whimper, the confidence you had before now fading. John was fast asleep upstairs, and you had no way to get to him without revealing yourself.

You watched silently as the man started to rummage in your drawers, trying to find anything valuable he could take.

He started to draw closer to where you were, and as you slowly crept backward, the floorboards creaked underneath you.

The man was immediately notified of your presence and caught a glimpse of you as you tried to hide around the corner.

"Hey! You!" He shouted, immediately running toward you.

You sprinted in the other direction, narrowly missing his outstretched hand. You ran into the bathroom in the hallway and tried to close the door before a hand came out to stop it.

"Nowhere to run now." He said, a terrifying smile lining his face.

"PRICE!" You screeched, your heart beating rapidly.

John's eyes flew open at the sound of your terrified cry. With adrenaline coarsing through his veins, he flung himself out of bed and grabbed his handgun from his bedside table. He slowly crept down the stairs and took in his surroundings.

He saw you right away, crouched in terror before a man, who had you at gunpoint. John swiftly made his way behind the man before hitting him hard on the back of his head with the butt of his gun.

The man fell limply to the floor, and you let out a strangled sob. "John."

"Hey love, it's alright. I'm here." He approached you slowly, his hands raised up to show you he meant no harm. You held your arms out to him, and he pulled you into him, holding you tight. "I've got you. Nobody's going to hurt you."

He pulled away for just a moment to call the cops but held a grip firm on your waist, letting you know he wasn't ever going to let anything happen to you.

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

"Alright, babe, I'll run and grab the stuff at the bottom half of the list. You grab top?" Johnny asked, eyeing your fairly large grocery list.

"Sounds good, thanks, love." You smiled at him and tore the list in half, sending him on his way after a quick peck.

You watched as he strolled away, basket in hand, and made for the toiletry section of the store.

You were comparing toothpastes when you felt two men staring at you. You subtly turned your head in their direction, and they quickly looked anywhere but your direction.

You felt a slight sinking feeling in your belly and quickly threw one of the toothpastes in your cart. You made for the next aisle, looking around deoderant for you and Johnny, when the same two men appeared again, walking slowly down the aisle toward you.

Trying to brush off the occurrence as a coincidence, you threw what you needed in the cart and started to make your way to the shampoo aisle. Your resolve quickly crumbled when you now realized the men were following you.

The store was rather empty, so there was nobody close by for you to turn to. You sped your cart up and headed in the direction you thought Johnny might be. The men were hot on your tail, making it clear they were trying to get to you.

You felt one of their hands touch your back, and you let out a cry. "SOAP!"

Johnny was just finishing up his portion of the list when he heard your scream. His heart was beating rapidly as he dropped the basket and ran to you.

"Y/N?" He called out and was met with a horrifying sight. You were cornered in one of the aisles by two men and were crying, your hands up in a defensive motion as you crouched on the floor.

Johnny immediately approached. "Leave my partner the fuck alone."

The two men whipped their heads in his direction, rubbing their hands together. It was clear they were looking for a fight. Johnny lifted his shirt slightly, revealing his sidearm strapped to his waist. "Try it, I fucking dare you. You won't like the outcome."

The men clearly knew better than to create such a scene in a store and decided to flee.

Johnny watched as they ran and crouched down to your level. "Baby. Are you okay?"

You choked out a sob and wrapped your arms around your husband. "I was so scared, Johnny."

Johnny gritted his teeth in anger, he hated that anyone made you feel this way. It took everything in him not to go chasing after those bastards.

"I know, baby. I'm here now, though. Why don't we quickly finish up this trip and grab some takeout, yeah? I'm not really feeling up to cooking anymore." He pulled your face away gently and stroked your tears away. "I've got you, always, okay?"

You nod slowly and let him help you up. He grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours, not letting go until you both reached the car.

[unlosts]

Hi! I love your work! I saw that you had requests open, so could I request something with Hotch and the reader having to share a room for a case? I'm a sucker for awkward moments and pining so could this be like pre-relationship? And maybe the reader has to ask for a shirt or sweatpants because their own pajamas aren't very appropriate.

Thank you! ❤️ (feel free to ignore it if you don't want to write it)

Thank you for the request!

Word count: Just slightly over 2k.

A/N: MDNI! not super anything but I would feel better lol. Also the ending is me chickening out, but I don't rule out a part 2 either.

“Overbooked?” You ask the concierge in disbelief. 

“I’m afraid so, it means that, unfortunately the hot-” He starts with an apologetic twist of his mouth, but you put a hand up to cut him off, already feeling a migraine beginning to form. 

“I know what it means” You say exasperated. In the short run from the car to the hotel the storm had soaked your clothes making them stick to you uncomfortably, the heat of the lobby doing absolutely nothing to fight back the chill seeping into your bones. 

Your soaking wet duffel bag hangs heavy on your shoulder forming a small ring of water on the red carpet. The people in line behind you huffing in impatience not helping matters at all. 

A drop of water running from the back of your neck through your spine made you shiver uncomfortably. 

The combined feeling of discomfort and exhaustion is making your patience run thin, and the realization that you had no place to sleep tonight was about to bring you to tears in front of the obnoxious family of four right behind you. 

“Don’t you guys have like another hotel or something nearby?” You ask, already knowing the answer by the look of pity the concierge shots you. 

“ma’am I’m sorry but -” 

Before you can cut him off once more you feel a warm palm softly touch your arm, and Hotch appears right by you. Your shoulders drop in relief knowing he’ll fix it. The thought feels silly, It’s not as if Hotch can build you another room but for some reason you’re sure that he’ll find a work around. 

“Is there an issue here?” He asks, his stature and still pristine, and somehow dry, suit more imposing than the drenched racoon look you ended up with. 

“As I was telling her there was a mix up with the reservations and, unfortunately, we don’t have an available room for her” The concierge - Paul - says probably feeling just as relieved as you are to be talking to Hotch. 

“Not here” Paul keeps going before Hotch can ask “nor in any of our other nearby branches. It’s the National Taxidermists Association Convention” He adds with an awkward smile. 

“Did you hear that? I may not have a room but the dead and stuffed deer certainly does” You add unhelpfully. 

“I understand” Hotch says before turning back to you and softly guiding you towards the side  “It’s alright, we’ll just rearrange the rooms” 

“It’s eleven PM, besides Pen said everyone got their own room tonight so it’s not like anyone will have the space” You say petulantly before looking back at him, already apologetic for snapping. 

“I'm sorry, my duffle got ruined because I bought this shitty one instead of my usual so everything's probably soaked, I feel like this shirt is painted on and I'm pretty sure one of the creepy taxidermists was checking me out so I'm honestly not having the greatest night.” 

You were all there for a negotiation seminar, which in hindsight made the fact that a dead squirrel got a room before you more humiliating. 

Hotch only looks at you patiently “it's alright” he repeated, briefly touching your shoulder “We can just share my room” 

Suddenly self conscious, the last thing you wanted was to put him out when all he probably wanted to do was talk to Jack and pass out, alone, in his own room. But he must have read it on your face because before you could make up an excuse he picks up your go bag and adds “It would make me feel better knowing you're near by and not in some motel, especially tonight.” 

As if to back him up, thunder suddenly struck, loud and impossible to ignore. 

“Okay,” you agree, going for the elevator “but you're not taking the couch” 

“Am I that transparent?” He asks as you both wait for the doors to open, along with some of the other guests and their suspiciously big suitcases. You try really hard not think of what's in them. 

“Sorry, it's the whole Connecticut WASPy manners thing, you’d probably rather get a creek on your neck sleeping on the floor just because it's more polite” You say with a shrug of your shoulder. 

Before he could reply the doors opening, everyone flooding in making you press your back against Hotch, his arm went to your waist to keep you steady after a man not much older than you almost rolled his suitcase over your feet. 

The heat of him behind you and his hand on your front made your stomach clench, it took all of your willpower not to lean back, the thought of him pressing up against you makes your eyes close briefly, his chest almost touching your back with every breath.

It feels like hours pass before you can step into the hallway keenly aware of Hotch just a step behind you. 

Stepping into the room the first thing you notice is the queen sized bed, the plush  hotel comforter drawing you in. You discard your shoes somewhere by the closet, uncaring of where they land.

“You can take the first shower” Hotch says, entering leaving both of your bags by the door “better warm up before you catch a cold” The thought feels entirely caring and entirely Hotch but the suggestion brings a more pressing issue to the front of your mind.

“um” you say, widening your eyes at the realization that you have nothing to wear “everything I have is soaked, like fresh out the washer before the dryer kind of soaked, you don't happen to have a spare set of pj's in there do you?” 

He doesn't reply, just goes over to his bag and hands you a small pile of clothing “you go ahead, I'll go down with your clothes and see if laundry service is still open, wouldn't want you showing up tomorrow in a hotel bathrobe” he says with a smile and before you can protest he's off with your duffle bag. Leaving you alone with this uncomfortable feeling in your chest. 

Once inside the bathroom you go through the clothing, the first thing you pick up from the pile is a threadbare dark blue GWU sweatshirt, soft in a way only a well loved item can be, and you can't help but take the collar up to your nose and taking in the fresh laundry smell and the remnants of his cologne still lingering in the fabric.

By the time you come out, swimming in his sweatshirt and a pair of too long sweatpants, toweling your hair, Hotch is back sans your bag, laying back in bed on the side closest to the door. Surfing through static after static channel on the TV, his head pillowed on the back of his arm. 

“There goes movie night, I guess” you joke walking over to the bed “which side of the bed do you want”

Without getting up he says “this one’s fine” 

At that you snort “that's such a guy thing” 

“Sorry?” 

“The whole sleeping next to the door in case someone comes in” 

“You say that now but by the time a guy in a deer mask comes through the door you'll be glad I picked it” 

“well how chivalrous of you” You smile at him leaning on the bathroom door. 

He smiles back lopsided and a little boyish, his dimples peeking through “It’s those pesky WASP manners rearing their head.”

Hotch looks back at you for a moment from his side of the bed “I hope the shirt is comfortable”

“It’s great, thanks” 

He clears his throat “It suits you”

Warmth spreads from the tips of your fingers all the way up your chest where a pleasant weight settles. 

You sit criss crossed next him to change the channel to something watchable before your mouth wins over your brain and you say something stupid. As you reach over him, fishing for the remote on the nightstand you miscalculate and your hand slips on the bed sheets, toppling you over on top of him, leaving you nose to nose. Close enough to count his eyelashes. 

You quickly sit back up but upon your haste you both move up at the same time, falling back into him as your hands find purchase in his chest. You feel the rise and fall of every breath he takes, the thrum of his heart matching yours. Your eyes lock again as his hands circle your waist to keep from falling from the bed and into the floor. 

“Shit” You whisper “I’m so sorry Hotch” But it’s hard to be when you’re encased in his arms, feeling the muscle of his chest underneath your fingertips as his big, calloused hands burn a mark on your back. 

“It’s alright” He says in a tone matching your own. 

With his help you sit back up and he hands you the remote you were looking for. Tucking an errand strand of hair behind your ear you put on a random channel. 

A black and white movie plays on in the background as you look at him, the faint glow from the TV casting moving shadows across his face, suddenly highlighting his strong brow or straight nose. 

Your breathing matches his, suddenly the low light of the bedside lamp reminds you of candlelight, a gossamer filter cast over you. 

As you’re about to speak, not really knowing what you were actually going to say he breaks the silence first  by standing up and heading to the bathroom to shower.  

It feels impossible to know Hotch, what he’s thinking or feeling, you want to unspool his thoughts, display them out like a film reel for your viewing pleasure. Know him as intimately as you sometimes feel he knows you. 

You’re  settled back in bed, still lost in thought, by the time the water cuts off he comes out in plaid blue pants and a white t-shirt smelling like soap  fresh laundry. His hair still damp and shirt collar askew like he dressed in a hurry. 

Hesitating for a few seconds before peeling back the covers and getting in, his body heat right next to you, a contrast against your cold skill, the cold never having left you. Immediately making you shiver despite the thicker sweatshirt. 

Hotch clears his throat again, more out of embarrassment from what he’s about to do, and it’s odd to see him like this. You’re used to seeing him be sure of himself, unflinching in the face of murderers, government officials and incensed police captains alike. 

It’s an alien feeling seeing him blush, or hesitate before speaking, it only serves to deepen your fondness for him, it makes you want to lean in and press a kiss against his heated cheek. 

He opens his arm in a silent invitation, you curl yourself sideways against him, your cold nose pressing against his neck as his warm hands trail up and down your back in what began an attempt to warm you back up. The lazy movement up and down meant to lull you to sleep, is instead sending shivers down your spine. 

“Better?” Hotch asks. 

“Much, thank you” You reply, resting your ear against his chest. 

You don’t say anything else but let your hand trail up his stomach, feel the muscles softly clench underneath your hand before letting it rest there and look up to see his eyes closed and his lips parted. As if he could feel your gaze on him he opens his eyes still panting. 

Hotch looks at you with a questioning gaze, the certainty in yours seeming like the only answer he needs. 

His hand is a gentle weight on the back of your neck draws you in until your nose to nose, lips a breath away from touching. His thumb caresses your cheekbone back and forth, clouding your senses until you have tunnel vision, the room fades away and all you can see is him. You nose trails his for a moment as your forehead presses together, your hand coming up to touch his jaw. 

“We shouldn’t ” He says, breath fanning against your lips while his eyes close briefly. 

“No, we should not” You reply, but neither make a move to part. 

“What should we do then?” 

“You should tell me goodnight” 

“Goodnight, then” He says and his deep voice reverberates under your hand still perched on his chest. You lean down and leave a kiss on the corner of his mouth as his breath stutters. 

Before you can pull off of him his hand draws you back in finally kissing you. Time stops existing right then, the kiss is hungry but unhurried, Hotch is patient and tender as he rolls you over resting your head against his forearm.

Your breathing's labored as you part “See now we really should go to sleep”  You say breathlessly, chest heaving up and down. 

“We absolutely should,” He says teasingly. 

[piastrirots]

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ not ready to make nice !

pairing: armando aretas x howard!reader summary: all you’ve ever dreamed about since your granddad being killed was the son of a bitch who did it sharing the same fate. what you never expected was to have to work with your granddads killer to rescue your sister and especially not that you’d take a liking to him. word count: 3.7k warnings: typical bad boys violence (guns, blood, death...) read at your own caution <3 notes: thank you for my first request, i had so much fun writing it! feel free to comment down your thoughts, things you want to see etc.

YOU FELT SO HELPLESS AS YOU REPLAYED THE SCREAMS OF YOUR SISTER CALLIE, but it was nothing to what your sister must have been feeling. You felt so stupid - your mother entrusted you to look after your sister whilst she hunted down your grandads killer and like a fool you left her alone at the house when you got a message to go to Dorn's you just could not ignore.

You would have disregarded the message like you did the millions of texts of pity that people from the station have sent following your indefinite suspension. It was unfair, but since your granddad was under investigation for working with the cartel (which was absolutely bullshit), it was only procedure to have his protégé and granddaughter on leave until everything was cleared up.

Following this, your mother had you and your younger sister on house arrest. You understood your mothers concern and admired her grit and ability to separate her personal feelings from her work. You couldn't begin to imagine how she must be feeling and certainly wonder how she copes with everything.

You didn't really see much of your granddad growing up since he was always working and just like him, your mother followed in his footsteps. It only made sense to everyone when you joined the police academy straight out of high school and worked at the station your grandfather did.

You fiddled with the necklace clasped to your neck nervously as you watched the drone footage of the men who had captured Mike's wife and your sister from the safety of the AMMO van. You didn't deserve to be here - it should be your sister. The same Callie who was being held hostage by dangerous people she had no business being entwined with.

Kelly squeezed your shoulder reassuringly and you give her a forced smile she could see right through. "It's going to be alright," Kelly said, piercing through the silence that enveloped the trio that was Kelly, yourself and Dorn.

You wished you could be in the thick of the action, but knew you would be no help to anyone in your distressed state. Your eyes flickered from your sister and briefly landed on the man who arguably was the reason you were all here.

Armando Aretas. The man that had cursed her family and the name that once made your stomach churn. As you observed him in the water, gun poised, you couldn't summon hatred, only a detached indifference.

She couldn't stop reliving their first meeting, each detail etched in her mind like a broken record. She knew everything about his case: Armando, Mike's son, tied to the cartel, infamous for his role in her grandfather's and other officials' deaths, and locked away in maximum security for the past few years.

Her empathy, seen by her mother as a weakness in their line of work, blurred her objectivity. She resisted this notion, yet felt a pang of sympathy for Armando.

His life story was a tragedy in itself: manipulated by his mother, misled into dark deeds, and shattered by the revelation that his beloved father was actually the cop his mother had him hunt down. It was a complex web that stirred sympathy despite his crimes. The nature versus nurture debate, something she'd studied in school, fascinated her. She pondered how upbringing and genetics influenced choices, even in someone as troubled as Armando.

Despite his past, she sensed a glimmer of remorse in Armando, especially in his recent efforts to clear her grandfather's tainted name.

Urgency had drove her to burst into Dorn's house upon receiving a cryptic message warning of Mike, Marcus, and Armando's presence, and urging her not to call the police. She remembered her eyes scanning the room, and then her eyes met his: emerging from a file, unmistakable even dressed in a bud light shirt and a truckie cap.

His expression faltered briefly, something flickering in his eyes—recognition, perhaps regret? She swiftly looked away, her mind racing. She was quick to make a beeline for Dorn, who sat at his desk, scrutinizing security footage.

The sound of gunshots shattered her focus. "Shit, shit, shit," Dorn muttered as the footage flickered and went out.

Panic surged through her. They had been warned not to intervene, but with the situation unclear and no backup in sight, the three of them impulsively decided to join the action, Dorn pressing hard on the accelerator.

They arrived too slowly for her liking, but she was the first to kick open the van door and grab a gun, rushing towards the crumbling ruins where her sister and others were held. Dorn and Kelly followed closely, but soon they had to split up due to the overwhelming number of men on the other side.

Her sole focus was on rescuing her sister, ensuring she returned home safe and sound. The thought of anything happening to her sister was unbearable, a burden she couldn't bear to carry.

She moved through the abandoned building with caution, every sense on high alert for any sign of her sister or anyone really. The eerie silence enveloped her; the absence of gunshots and screams left a chilling void that unsettled her deeply.

Just as she was about to give up and retreat to regroup with Kelly and Dorn, she spotted her. A glimpse of straight brown hair caught her eye, unmistakably her sister. And she seemed to be alone as well.

"Callie!" she called out, quickly holstering her gun. In that moment, the danger and the looming threat of the hostile environment faded into insignificance. The girl turned around, and you couldn't help but release a laugh of relief, running her hands through her hair.

Callie spun around at the sound of her name, initially startled but then relieved when she realized it was only her sister. A smile broke across her face, and she rushed forward for a warm embrace. They held each other tightly, and she felt herself finally let go of the tension.

"I can't believe it's really you," she said, pulling back slightly to grip Callie's shoulders and study her face, as if fearing she might vanish into thin air.

For a moment, they were enveloped in their own little world, a bubble that felt impenetrable. It was just the two of them.

But then Callie's screams shattered the moment, snapping you back to reality. You whirled around, but it was already too late.

A stranger had grabbed Callie, and instinct took over as you lunged forward, gripping the man's arms to pry him away from your sister. In his other hand, a knife sliced into your shoulder. Adrenaline dulled the worst of the pain, but you winced as he withdrew the blade.

Positioning yourself between the man and your sister, you shielded Callie instinctively. You swore you wouldn't let anything happen to your sister again, not on your watch.

Preparing to confront the assailant, you adopted a fighter's stance, your shoulder throbbing but ignored in the heat of the moment.

Before the man could strike again, you glimpsed Armando over his shoulder, gun trained on the back of the man's head.

Their eyes met, and in that instant, they shared an unspoken understanding. She saw trust in his gaze—at least for this crucial moment.

Wrapping her arms protectively around Callie, they both dropped to the ground just as Armando squeezed the trigger. The deafening silence that followed was broken only by the thud of the man's body hitting the ground.

Your eyes remained fixed on Armando as he swiftly approached. There was a hesitation in his movement, a conflict evident in his expression, before he went against his instincts and extended his hand towards you. Part of you wanted to rebuff the gesture, to stand on your own, but you couldn't deny that he had just saved both you and Callie's lives. Reluctantly, you reached out and grasped his hand, allowing him to help you up.

As they stood face to face, you realized just how much taller he was, which added to the lingering tension between them.

Their eyes locked in a silent exchange—yours clouded with confusion and a whirlwind of thoughts, his dark and intense. You cleared your throat, breaking the moment that felt like it stretched on for an eternity.

Helping Callie to her feet, you felt your sister's arm wrap around your waist, a comforting embrace amidst the chaos. Together, the three of them navigated through the abandoned building, searching for an exit. It took some time, but finally, Callie spotted a glimmer of light cutting through the darkness—a way out.

You felt a brief surge of relief, quickly snuffed out by the sudden emergence of danger. Three assailants descended upon Armando with lethal intent, their knives flashing in the dim light. Despite taking a few hits, Armando fought back with fierce determination. His movements were swift and calculated, deflecting blows and retaliating with precision.

Beside you, Callie clung to you in fear, her wide eyes darting between the unfolding violence and your uncertain face. Should you intervene? Part of you wanted to let justice play out, to see if these men would finally meet their comeuppance. But Callie's presence reminded you of innocence untouched by the darkness that surrounded Armando.

"Run!" Armando's command pierced through the chaos, directed at both you and Callie. Callie wasted no time, obeying without question as she sought safety. You hesitated for a moment longer, torn between curiosity and caution. In the end, the instinct to protect prevailed, and you guided Callie to a secluded spot, instructing her to hide and close her eyes until it was safe.

Returning to the fray, you joined Armando just as another assailant attempted a sneak attack. With swift reflexes, you seized the attacker by the neck, swiftly incapacitating him with a forceful chokehold. As he slumped unconscious, you brushed off the dirt and debris, refocusing on the ongoing struggle.

Armando had managed to evade most of their attacks and had already neutralized one of the attackers. But the sudden, deafening blast shattered the night, signaling the arrival of an unexpected adversary. A helicopter descended violently from above, crashing through the glass roof of the building. Smoke billowed, obscuring vision as its menacing blades sliced through the air with deadly intent.

Caught off guard, one of Armando's assailants faltered, his footing lost in the confusion. The helicopter's blades found their mark, hurling him away with a sickening thud.

"Let's go," Armando's urgent voice cut through the chaos, and he extended his hand towards you. Without hesitation, you grasped it tightly, knowing that in this moment, trusting him was your only option. He started to move in one direction, but you tugged gently on his hand, indicating the opposite direction. Confusion flickered across his face, silently questioning your choice.

"My sister," you explained quietly, nodding towards where you had left Callie. Understanding immediately, his expression softening, You hurried towards where Callie was hiding, Armando following your lead without protest.

When you reached Callie, you gently released Armando's hand and cupped your sister's face, relieved to find her unharmed but visibly shaken. Her eyes, wide with fear, met yours briefly before you focused on reassuring her.

"Let's get out of here, Callie," you murmured softly, helping her to her feet. Armando remained close by, a silent pillar of strength amidst the chaos. With Callie beside you, you navigated through the debris-strewn building, every step a cautious move towards safety.

The sound of sirens grew louder, their wail promising help and rescue drawing nearer by the moment. But as the cacophony echoed through the shattered building, Armando's presence beside you felt heavy with unspoken tension. The sirens, usually a beacon of hope, now cast a shadow of unease.

You glanced at Armando, catching the furrow of his brow and the distant look in his eyes. The sirens weren't a comfort to him; they were a haunting echo of the prison cell waiting for him when this was finished.

They had found themselves deep in the forest, the uncertainty of their surroundings providing a little more safety than the building they had just left.

Armando, who had been their steadfast protector through the chaos, now showed signs of weariness that had gone unnoticed in the heat of the escape. As he slowed to a stop and slumped against a nearby tree, it became painfully clear just how dire his situation was.

You had been laser-focused on guiding Callie to safety, shielding her from the danger that had threatened their lives moments before. Now, as you turned your attention to Armando, your heart sank at the sight of him clutching his shoulder, his face contorted with pain. The urgency of the escape had overshadowed his injuries, and guilt gnawed at you for not noticing sooner.

"Hey," you murmured softly, your voice laced with concern and regret. Crouching beside him, you carefully inspected the wound, your eyes tracing every line of pain etched across his features.

Callie hovered nearby, her own worry mirrored in her eyes as she watched silently.

With gentle hands, you lifted his hand to examine the injury. The sight made you wince; it was clear this was no ordinary cut or scrape. Blood seeped through torn fabric, evidence of the violence that had unfolded only moments ago.

His eyes followed your every movement, studying your reaction with a hint of amusement. Despite the pain etched on his face, a small smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he observed your subtle grimace.

"You squeamish?" His voice, husky with pain yet laced with a hint of playful teasing, caught you off guard. His ability to crack a joke in such a dire situation surprised you, momentarily breaking the tension that hung heavily in the air.

You looked up, meeting his gaze. A small, genuine smile tugged at your lips. "That obvious?" you replied softly.

With practiced efficiency, you tore a strip of fabric from your shirt and began to wrap it tightly around his arm, applying pressure to stem the flow of blood. Your hands moved swiftly, guided by a combination of urgency and careful precision, your focus unwavering despite the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Armando watched you work in silence, his eyes hooded with a mix of pain and something else—something you couldn't quite decipher. The forest around you seemed to fade into the background as you tended to him, the rustling leaves and distant sounds of wildlife a distant backdrop to the moment.

As you worked to stabilize his condition, you couldn't shake the feeling of his gaze upon you, the weight of his silent observation palpable. The atmosphere between you shifted subtly, a current of unspoken emotions swirling beneath the surface.

Armando's breathing was shallow, his complexion growing paler beneath the layer of sweat that glistened on his brow. You noticed the way his chest rose and fell unevenly, the signs of light-headedness and erratic heartbeat becoming more apparent.

"Stay with me, Armando," you murmured softly, your voice a steady anchor in the midst of uncertainty. Your fingers continued their careful work, applying pressure and adjusting the makeshift bandage as needed. Each touch was gentle yet purposeful.

The forest around you seemed to hold its breath as you worked, the rustling of leaves serving as a stark reminder of the isolation that surrounded you. But then, the snap of a branch shattered the fragile calm, jolting you back to the present.

Armando stirred beside you, a reflexive movement to rise, but you placed a firm hand on his uninjured shoulder, commanding Callie to keep him still. Instinct took over as you swiftly drew your gun from its holster, your training kicking in as you flicked off the safety and aimed towards the source of the sound.

Tension coiled in the air as seconds stretched into eternity, your senses heightened and focused on the approaching threat. Then, emerging from the shadows with an air of nonchalance that belied the danger of the situation, was Mike.

"Woah," Mike exclaimed, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I've had way too many of those pointed at me today."

Relief flooded through you, dissipating the tension like a punctured balloon. You rolled your eyes at Mike's antics, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the seriousness of the moment. Slowly, you returned your gun to its holster.

"Nice to see you too, Mike," you replied, your voice laced with a mix of gratitude and amusement. The bond between you and Mike was one forged through shared dangers and trust, a connection that transcended the chaos that had brought the two of them together in the first place.

Callie, sensing the shift in atmosphere, dashed towards Mike and enveloped him in a tight hug. "I missed you too, kiddo," Mike chuckled warmly, ruffling Callie's hair affectionately. His gaze shifted beyond her, settling on Armando who now seemed to be regaining some color despite his injuries.

Mike wasted no time after his affectionate exchange with Callie. With a sense of urgency, he made his way to Armando's side, offering him a steadying hand and helping him to his feet. You followed closely behind, observing with a mix of relief and concern as Mike scanned Armando's body, his brow furrowed with worry.

"You alright, man?" Mike's voice was filled with genuine concern as he assessed Armando's condition. Armando managed a silent nod in response, his exhaustion evident in every line of his face and posture.

The moment of quiet reassurance was abruptly shattered by the distinct click of a gun being cocked. Instinctively, all four of you spun around, eyes scanning the shadows and underbrush that surrounded you. The forest, once serene and tranquil, now seemed to bristle with unseen threats.

Your hand instinctively went to your holster, fingers curling around the grip of your weapon. Mike's stance shifted subtly, his protective instincts kicking into high gear as he positioned himself between you, Callie, and the direction of the ominous sound. Adrenaline surged through your veins, sharpening your senses and heightening your awareness.

"Who's there?" Mike's voice rang out, firm and commanding. His eyes darted from shadow to shadow, searching for any sign of movement or threat. Your grip tightened on your weapon, prepared for whatever might emerge from the shadows.

Minutes stretched into eternity before a figure finally emerged from the dense foliage.

The tension in the forest thickened to a suffocating level as my mother emerged from the shadows, a gun leveled directly at Armando. My initial shock at seeing her dissolved into confusion and concern as her serious expression betrayed no hint of recognition or relief.

"Mum?" I managed to utter, my voice wavering with a mix of emotions. I instinctively released my grip on my own gun, hopeful that her appearance meant salvation rather than further danger. But her unwavering aim at Armando shattered any illusions of safety.

My gaze followed hers to where Mike stood defensively in front of Armando, his posture protective yet tense. Callie's distress was palpable as she clung to Mike, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. You stood frozen, torn between the desire to protect Armando and the urge to comfort your mother.

Mike attempted to reason with her, his voice calm yet urgent, but the anger and betrayal radiating from my mother were unmistakable. It was clear that words alone would not sway her resolve. As the standoff intensified, I knew there was only one path forward.

With hesitant steps, you moved to stand between your mother and the trio —Mike, Armando, and Callie. Your hand stretched out in a silent plea, a gesture laden with unspoken desperation and determination.

"Mum, please," You implored softly, my voice barely above a whisper but carrying the weight of a plea for reason. "Put the gun down."

My mother's gaze flickered between me and the men behind me, emotions warring within her. The forest seemed to hold its breath, the sounds of rustling leaves and sirens fading into insignificance. 

"Move away from him," your mother commanded, placing emphasis on every word, gripping her gun tightly. "And take your sister with you."

Callie ran towards you and with a burst of bravery, challenged her mother. "He saved my life," she let out, looking between Armando who was watching the scene unfold, unsure of his fate and her mother who stood rock solid. 

"He saved our lives," you joined in, turning to Armando with a look of determination.

For a moment that stretched agonizingly, she hesitated. The gun trembled imperceptibly in her grip, her resolve faltering under the weight of you and your sisters plea and the truth that stood before her. 

Finally, with a shuddering exhale, she lowered the gun. With the gun lowered, the confrontation over, you should be happy, and yet a new wave of unease washed over you. Your mother's shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Go, before I change my mind," she finally uttered, her voice strained but resolute. Callie wasted no time, rushing to envelop your mother in a tight, reassuring hug. You stood apart, caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, wondering if you should go to your mother and Callie, or help Mike and Armando.

Turning away from the tender moment between mother and daughter, you approached Armando and Mike at the edge of the dock. Together, you helped guide Armando onto the boat, Mike offering last-minute fatherly advice that echoed softly against the backdrop of the lapping waves.

Watching them, you couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy for Mike—a man who had spent so little time with his son now bidding him farewell under such dire circumstances. It was a scene that tugged at your heartstrings and made you glance away, the ache in your chest growing more palpable by the second.

Instinctively, you reached for your necklace, fingers searching for the familiar weight against your skin. Panic fluttered as your touch met empty space. Looking down, you realized with a sinking feeling that the chain must have snapped during the chaos. It was a simple necklace, a gift from Callie—a token of your bond, adorned with the initial of your first name.

Before the full weight of loss could settle in, a voice cut through your thoughts, drawing your attention back to the boat now drifting further into the horizon. Armando's smirk was unmistakable as he held up the shimmering necklace in his hand.

"Thanks for the necklace," he called out, his tone carrying a mix of mockery and triumph. "Until next time cariño."

The engine roared to life, drowning out everything around it as Armando steered the boat away, disappearing into the vastness of the sea. 

"Callie is going to kill me."

the request:: Y/n attend Armando wounded as they was against the tree. Y/n were much more hurt than him didn't tell anyone your breathing was heavy but well y/n didn't care, he was the only thing that mattered. She stopped her mother from killing him.

[thestarrynightslover]

Whatever Comes

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Word count: 2,147

Warnings: A lot of angst. Mentions of blood, life-threatening injuries, hit-and-run, fracture wounds, and miscarriage.

Summary: Doctor (y/n) (y/l/n) and Jay Halstead are secretly dating when there is a terrible accident involving (y/n) and a lot comes to light.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the One Chicago shows, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way, or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: Okay, so this is my first fic in a long while and I don't think it's all that good but I had to restart somewhere, so I hope you like it anyway!

(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)

| masterlist |

You had just gotten out of your car across the street from the side of Med and, as you were making your way through the bit of road that led to the hospital, a car comes into the driveway — screeching tires, in full speed — and runs you over long before you could even see anything and, there, in the matter of a few seconds, everything goes black and you’re left bleeding out in the street.

Almost an hour later, after you had regained consciousness and had begun dragging yourself, very slowly, towards the hospital, Will and Ethan, about to go inside Med, spot you and run your way eager to help you out — even if they hadn’t known it was you at first.

“Oh man, it’s Dr. (y/n) (y/l/n)!” Ethan exclaimed.

“(y/n), can you hear me?!?” You sort of heard Will ask through your dizziness haze.

“Wow, you’re actually shorter this up close than I had imagined at first.” You attempted a joke with your friend, momentarily gaining some clarity.

Ignoring you, Will just asked no one specifically, “oh Lord, how long has she been bleeding out here?”

Decisive as always, you heard as Dr. Choi commanded, “I don’t know but, come on, Will, let’s carry her to the ED!”

As soon as your friends get inside the hospital with you, everybody stays in shock for a moment until Maggie yells: "get her in treatment 4, now!"

Following her lead, Will and Ethan get started on treating you, who has a few broken ribs, and free fluid in your belly besides from a punctured spleen. Having done their best in the ED, they decide to send your upstairs for surgery with Crocket.

Once you're going to surgery, Miss Goodwin tells Maggie and the doctors to call PD and specifically ask for Intelligence, since you were friends with the unit. As the cops get there, one stands out: Jay Halstead. He's frantic, devastated-looking, just completely lost, and desperate to hear more news about your condition. No one really understands why he is reacting like that, but all of them do share the fear of losing a great friend. Voight's giving out assignments to the team, so Jay knows that that's when he needs to speak up.

"Um, sarge?" All eyes are on him. "If you and the team don't mind running one man short today... I was hoping that I could, um, stay here with- with her?" Hank just stares at him, unlike everyone else — who are shocked — the older man's focus is on his detective's eyes, on the way he was so distraught from the moment they got the call about (y/l/n). That was the behavior, the look, of a terrified man. And, as everyone there knew, Jay Halstead — the freaking war vet — wasn't one to get scared easily. "(y/n) and I-"

"It's fine. No need to explain. You should stay here, Jay. Let us know, in case anything changes. And we'll catch the son of a bitch." He said firmly, making Jay feel as appreciative as ever, and, also, sending an implicit message to all the other members of the unit, one that said: we work this with all we got right now, for (y/n), and for Jay, no questions asked.

After the officers left the hospital, there was still a big commotion from everyone who stayed, because it was one of their own up there in the or. But, surpassing everyone else's, was Will's surprise by how distraught Jay looked, especially considering how his little brother wanted to stay at the hospital, instead of going to find who hurt you. So he comes to confront the detective about it. "So... You and (y/n) are a thing?" Will asked, trying to understand. Since Jay just nodded his head, he decided to push a little further: "And... Were you ever planning to tell me? What the hell, man?"

"Will, I-"

"She's one of my best friends, Jay! Not to mention the fact that I'm the doctor who oversees her work here!"

"Will you put it down?" Jay pleaded with his brother, motioning him to a more reserved corner of the waiting room. "I know, okay? I know. And I'm sorry if it upsets you, man, I really am. But this could've blown her career. That's why we hadn't told you yet." It was clear that Will didn't exactly like his brother's explanation, but he knew it was true.

"Just... How long?"

"Um, about six months?"

"Six months?!" The doctor yelled in shock, then repeated it in a lower tone. "But, six months?"

"Yeah, I know it's a lot of time keeping you in the dark, Will. But, trust me, we weren't thrilled about it. And we were hoping to tell you soon. I swear." Jay said, and his brother could, once again, see it was the truth.

"So, that means that when you started seeing each other she was still finishing med school?"

"Yeah, that's right. Which was, like, the main reason for us to keep it under wraps. An intern dating the attending doctor's little brother? Wouldn't look good."

"That's true..." At that point, Will took another look at his brother. Jay looked so worried and scared, even while trying to hide it. "So, uh, you guys are serious?" That question got a little smile out of the detective.

"Yes, we are. I know that it is new for you... But, I love her, Will. I really do." He took a moment to breathe, not being able to hold back some tears this time. “And, I can’t lose her. I just can’t.”

“Jay…” Will started saying but didn’t quite know how to continue. What could he possibly say to comfort his brother right now? “We just… We just gotta stay hopeful, okay? (y/n) is a really tough person and Dr. Marcel is a great surgeon, you know it. She is gonna pull through.”

A lot of disquieting hours later Crocket finally comes out of the surgery, just to be met by a very worried hospital staff and an on-edge Jay Halstead.

"Where is sh- How is she? Is (y/n) okay? Can I see her?" The detective hovers, not even taking a breath.

"Wow! Uh, you gotta calm down a little, buddy."

"Don't give me that crap! Just- just tell me how she is!" Jay shouts again, not giving a damn about what anyone was thinking. You were the only thing on his mind right now.

"Alright. But try to keep breathing, okay?" To that, the other man didn't even bother to answer. "Okay, um, it was a very complicated surgery, I had to do a lot of cleaning and moving around to get to the worst parts and-"

"Can you please just cut to the part where you tell me if she's okay? No offense, but you can fill me in on the details later." Jay stated nervously. It wasn't just that he wanted to know what was the result of all those hours in the or, but, also, because Jay knew he wouldn't understand half of what Connor was saying, even with the simplified language. You would. But not him.

"Right. Okay. She's, um, she's okay for now. We'll need to monitor her on an hourly basis, though." By that point, the surgeon could already see the relief on both Halsteads' faces, so he went on. "We controlled the bleeding, but, with all the blood loss," he stopped to take another look at the detective, "I'm afraid," another pause, because, sure he had delivered this kind of news before, but this time it was a lot harder, because those people were his friends. And, what they had just lost, he had just lost too, in a way, "we couldn't save the baby."

"The baby?" This time he got an answer from both brothers.

"Uh, uh... You, uh, you didn't know she was pregnant?" Crocket asked, kind of already guessing the answer while sharing a look with Will.

"Oh my God..." It was all the youngest Halstead managed to let out. Seeing how his brother was unable to react any further, Will decided to step up and ask the tough questions.

"So, um,  if everything goes well from now on, you think that (y/n/n) will make a full recovery?"

"Ahhh, yes, actually. She was in great health, so, after making it through, uh, through the night, she shouldn't have any major issues." At that point, Marcel himself was trying to be as objective and as doctorish as possible, in order not to make things worse for the man who had just heard that he lost a child he didn't even have a chance to wait for.

"So, is it, um- is it possible that she didn't know about the pregnancy yet?" But, damn it, Will just kept asking all the impossible questions.

"Uh... It is, actually. Very possible." Hearing that, the detective immediately glued his eyes on him. "We estimate that the fetus was about seven weeks. It's very common that women on birth control haven't found out about it at that point." As neither Halstead said anything, Marcel continued, "well, she's up in the ICU now and in and out of consciousness but, if you want, you can see her for a few minutes."

Hearing that, the detective came out of his haze and said: "Yeah, I wanna see her!"

A few hours later, as Will Halstead gathered his things after finishing his shift, he decided to go check on you but got surprised when he realized that his brother was still there, in the waiting room. "Jay, what are you still doing here?"

"I'm waiting," he said simply.

"Jay." Will called again, "you can't do this, you need to go home, get some sleep, eat…"

"I'm not leaving her alone."

"She's not gonna be alone, Jay." Not getting any response, Will decided to lead with something else. "You know, Voight called Goodwin and said that they're hitting a lot of walls in the (y/l/n) investigation…" Measuring his brother's reaction, Will continued: "Maybe they'd have better luck working with the whole team…"

"Yeah, you're probably right. Tomorrow I'll tell Voight that I want in on the investigation." Jay said, not making any sign of wanting to leave.

"Jay, you can't work tomorrow after staying here the whole night!" Seeing his little brother still not intending to leave, he threatened, "if you don't go home right now, I'll call Voight myself and tell him that you're in no shape to work-"

"Oh, c'mon! You're gonna do that!"

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you," Will said, looking as serious as they get. "Look, Jay, you know she's in good hands here. And, whatever happens, you'll be the first to know, I've made sure of it."

"But-"

"But nothing, Jay! It's time to go, come on!" Will pressed so much that Jay resigned himself to do as his brother told him.

For almost a week, you stayed in the ICU. For almost a week, Jay Halstead passed by Med on his way to work and on his way home from work.

Once you were moved to a room, Jay started feeling like he could finally breathe again, even though there was now the baby that someone had still to tell you. And, after chatting with Will and Crockett, Jay had already decided he was gonna be the one to deliver the news to you. So, one day, after Intelligence had already caught the drug dealers that were running away when they hit you, Jay asked Voight for the afternoon off to take you home from the hospital.

When you were at your place, you asked Jay what was going on: "Hey, you didn't say a word on the way here, is anything besides the fact that I just spent almost two weeks in the hospital and that everyone found out about us wrong?"

"Let's sit down for a minute, babe."

The minute he said that, you knew there was something really wrong.

"Okay, you're scaring me…" You said while sitting down on the couch.

"I just- I have something important to tell you," and, like that, Jay proceeded to tell you the worst thing you ever heard. It's not like you'd been planning on becoming a mother or anything like that anytime soon but it was still a possibility that was brutally taken away… You and Jay cried together for the first time and, consoling each other, you felt your relationship growing stronger. 

So much so that after some time you could start talking about the future that both of you foresaw with one another and, even though nothing was completely decided, there was one thing you knew for sure: as long as you were together, you could face anything.

[theemporium]

Could you maybe write something with Carlos and his wife who's shy and more quiet despite working for the social media team of Ferrari and when fans get a bit handsy Carlos steps in when he notices her discomfort?

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

You always preferred to stay behind the camera.

It had always been the case, even since you were a kid. You were shy, a little introverted. You didn’t like it at home when your parents tried to film a few home videos, you didn’t like it at school, you just didn’t really like it at all.

Your fascination came from being behind the camera. In being the one to capture all the moments around you so you could share it with the world. And with a growing love for motorsports ever since you were a young girl, it only made sense that your career and line of work would follow your dreams.

You joined the Scuderia Ferrari team the same year Carlos Sainz was signed on as their new driver, and it felt like fate that you two crossed paths.

It was difficult not to fall for the Spaniard. He lived true to his name and you were practically wrapped around his finger after you two first spoke. Carlos was sweet and kind and romantic, and despite having his undivided attention, you never felt like you were under a spotlight like you tended to feel with others.

Carlos always made you feel safe. He helped you grow, just as you did with him. And it was no surprise to anyone that after a few years of dating, Carlos finally put the ring on your finger.

The irony was never lost on you that despite your shy and reserved nature, the man you married ended up being one of the most photographed and sought out people in the world. He was constantly in front of a camera, and you were more than happy to be the one behind it. And all in all, fans were mostly respectful of your wishes to stay in the shadows.

But sometimes that wasn’t always the case.

Monza was a big race for the Ferrari team, one marked on the calendar and anticipated throughout the season. It was their home race. It was where the fans were the wildest, craziest, most passionate. And the boys were at the middle of it all, the hopes for a good race in front of their most loyal fans.

Carlos had one hand perched on your lower back as you made your way towards the paddock entrance. Both your paddock passes were in your hands as Carlos used his free hand to sign as many photos and caps and shirts as he could.

“Careful, mi amor,” Carlos murmured, his arm winding around your waist to keep you upright as more fans flooded your husband.

“You don’t need to rush,” you told him with a soft smile. “We still have another fifteen minutes before the meeting.”

He raised his brows. “Are you sure?”

“They are here for your, Carlos,” you assured him as you squeezed his hand, before letting him step away and give his full attention to the fans.

However, before you could step away from the crowd like you planned to do, an influx of more fans started pushing forwards to try and catch a glimpse of your husband. They were yelling and shoving and you started to feel hands all over you, and it made you want to crawl into yourself.

Your breathing quickened and your eyes darted around the group to try and find an escape, but it was useless. You tried to ignore the way your throat closed up, a sense of panic and dread bubbling inside of you as more people pushed and more hands touched you, and for a second you were concerned you were about to have a breakdown in front of everyone.

“AY! AY! MOVE AWAY, LET HER BREATHE!”

The crowd around you started to dissipate and soon enough the sight of your husband was no longer obstructed. Carlos quickly moved towards you, his hands cupping your face the second he was close enough.

“Mi amor,” he murmured breathlessly before he wound an arm around your shoulder protectively and began to guide you away from the crowds.

“Carlos,” you murmured as you sunk into his embrace. “The fans—”

“Can wait,” he finished for you. “I’ll go back later. You’re my priority.”

Your cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry.”

He paused, looking down at you with a frown on his face. “Do not apologise, amor,” he murmured with a shake of his head. “You’re my wife, you’re my world. Nothing will ever be important to me as you are.”

Your lips twitched. “Many years later and you still make me swoon, Mr Sainz.”

“I like to remind you why you said I do, Mrs Sainz,” he replied with a cheeky grin as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head before guiding you towards the Ferrari motorhome where you’d be safe from the onslaught of crowds.

.

[givethemsmut]

Cody Rhodes x Reader

Made of Gold | Chapter Five

Reaching below the driver’s seat I heard the lever snap while he pushed himself back. Leaning over the wide console separating us, his lips pressed against mine.

A few sweet kisses and our mouths were opening enough to slip our tongues to each other. Warm and wet I couldn’t get enough of him.

An accidental moan slipped from my mouth and I felt his hands guide me to his lap. Climbing over the console I gathered my dress up to my hips, showing off a lace pair of panties.

“God damn,” he said before helping me settle on top of him.

My heat collided with his crotch, every hard inch trying to bust through his zipper. “Cody,” I whimpered like he planned to toy with me.

I felt his knuckles work between my thighs as the small dress zipper gasped and I felt how free he was against my panties. I nearly collapsed against him, my legs still shaking, all of me physically begging for him to fuck me again.

“Take your time baby, I know I’m big.” His instructions seemed important when his fingers pushed my panties to the side and his tip smeared against my clit. I was soaking wet for him when I lowered myself slowly, ignoring the pain of being stretched to accommodate his size.

He did promised to ruin me… and he was for anyone else to enjoy me without feeling the imprint of him.

My hands reached out for him, clutching onto any part of him I could, bitting my lip to muffle the painful whimpers spewing from my mouth.

His lips planted soft kisses down my neck, my collar bones and chest as much as he could while I trembled on top of him. “I know baby, I know, it’ll feel good soon.”

Swaying my hips over his lap I started to grind into him, finally adjusting to his girth.

“That’s it baby. Just like that. Fuck…” I watched Cody try to stay composed as I rode him but failing. It felt powerful to bring someone like Cody, all masculinity and muscles, to the edge of reason.

I don’t know what possessed me when I tried to catch my breath enough to say, “I’m falling for you too.”

Our mouths collided and his arms wrapped around me, urging my pace to kick up while I nearly came.

Fisting the material of my dress he buried his face in my neck, “I’m not wearing a condom. I need you to come baby. I’m too close.”

My hands on either side of his neck I painstakingly dragged my hips over his lap, my legs still quivering, my nipples still daring to scrap against his vest I flashed him a small grin. “It’s not like I’m gonna get pregnant from one time… I just wanna feel what it’s like…”

His hands latched around my hips, holding me down against his lap and his eyes locked on mine. “You just got to experience sex, I’m not knocking you up.”

My tongue liked his perfect, prevalent, jaw before I plead my case. “I don’t want to be pregnant. I just wanna fill what it’s like to make you come because of me, not your hand.”

I was virgin but not blind. Cody finished himself off after he made me come for the fifth time, making a mess on the inside of my thigh. I wanted to be the reason he came this time.

“You think you weren’t the reason I came last night?” My hips lazily swaying on top of him.

Nodding silently I waited for him to kiss that wound.

His blue eyes hadn’t shifted away from mine, still locked, “You can’t be serious. Your legs were open, your pussy was so wet, the way you panted my name, the way you watched my hand barely touch myself while I came - fuck. I’ve never came that hard in my life. I wanna enjoy you before I have to share you with someone else. I wanna have fun with you first. God damn it, I’m gonna come. Fuckkk.”

Holding me in his grasp, he buried his chest in my chest and I felt the ecstasy of coming immediately as he filled me.

Letting my head tip back I held my breath, soaking in every second of his orgasm sitting inside me instead of splashed on my thighs. “Oh my god,” I whined.

Jerking inside me still his hands only gripped tighter while he rode it out. “My neighbors might hate us now.”

I smiled knowing they probably would. The gated community scream safe and PG yet we were fogging up the windows and not muffling a single moan in his driveway.

Carefully putting himself away I felt his hand brush my sensitive pussy and nearly gasped all over again.

“Now you see why I didn’t want to go home,” I whispered.

His square jaw tensed at the thought of me going home, “I don’t care what he said about either of us. We both have a past, it can stay in the rearview where it belongs.”

Carefully removing myself from his lap and trying not hit the horn on the steering wheel I fell into the passenger seat with a laugh. “I just care about this version. Are you sure it’s okay I stay with you longer? Not exactly normal.”

Getting out and rounding his car to open my door I waited for his answer, “Versus the alternative? No, you’ll stay here and when I leave on Thursday you’ll come with me. I have a personal bus, plenty of room.”

“Leave Thursday?” Suddenly I got anxious, nervous even.

Taking my hand he lead me inside, “For Smackdown, it’ll be my debut back at WWE. I figured you wouldn’t want to stay here alone.”

I had pushed that reality out of my mind. I was prepared to have Cody take my virginity but I hadn’t planned on sticking around after that.

“Oh, work, of course. I can just stay here. I don’t wanna make any problems for you.” The self conscious wave nearly drowned me when I placed down my stuff on the counter not realizing we never actually ate at dinner.

Raiding his fridge, I pulled everything I needed to make a creamy pasta and the steaks to jazz it up. Making myself comfortable in his unused kitchen I went to work, cooking somehow calmed me. Both of my parents were always away on vacation or business trips, always leaving me to fend for myself.

Sitting at the island he watched me buzz around the kitchen. “Problems for me? How would you be doing that?”

“It’s your debut… we’re still figuring it out, I’m underage still, my dad just declared war. I don’t want to be distracting.”

“You’d be distracting if you weren’t by my side. I don’t want you here all alone. I have a bus, we’re on our own island babe.” He stood up, coming behind me and wrapping his arms around me. “I want you there.”

The nerves wrapped around every sane part of me when I agreed to join him on the road. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, I knew nothing about this world or how to fit in.

The entire week I researched the roster, the company, the girlfriends and wives trying to prepare when there was no preparing when the bus parked at the venue. Everything felt electric, larger than life, when we walked through the tunnels filled with employees of WWE.

Squeezing Cody’s hand I made sure my pace matched his as he strutted through in his full suit. I made sure to pack everything my mother would approve - everything with a label that screamed old money.

Every female I saw was in designer, full glam and intimidating as fuck. He was surrounded by beautiful woman for his job and I’m just the taboo fuck.

A new person shaking his hand around every turn we took, welcoming him home in this profound way. “Welcome home?” I whispered as his hand squeezed mine.

“My father and brother are a WWE legacy, I left all that to prove I was good enough to carry that name. I proved it and now I can come back home on my terms.” His face lit up when he spoke and you couldn’t help feel inspired.

Leaning in without thinking I let my lips peck his, “Welcome home then.”

Quickly pulling back slightly I looked around for anyone looking at us when I realized we were finally alone. “I don’t care who sees. You’re mine.”

Wrapping my arms around his neck I pulled him closer, feeling our mouths smile over each other’s before brushing up the heat between my legs. “Don’t tease,” I begged as I felt my ass hit a huge black trunk.

Cody’s hands easily lifted me up, my ass teetering on the edge, my legs spread apart enough to let him fill that space. My hands unbuttoned his shirt until it hit his vest, wanting more of him in the worst way.

“I have a dressing room… somewhere… fuck… I’m never gonna get tired of this.” His voice was full of sex appeal, rough around the edges, enough to fuck me right here backstage where anyone could catch us.

“Don’t stop,” I begged exasperated enough to feel my chest flutter and his fingers found my slit drenched panties. The oars of his fingers applied just the right amount of pressure that drove my hips forward, chasing his touch.

I was a mess on that trunk tucked in a dark corner of the venue.

Reaching my hand out my palm collided with every hard inch of him. Pouring mouths into each other’s mouth I silently begged him to fuck me. “Baby… baby… we can’t. Not here.”

Kissing up from his chest to his jaw I felt his breath hitch, the one sensitive spot on his body I had found. Smirking to myself I closed my legs around him, my knees brushing his hips in his sweats before his head fell between us, defeated. “You’re killing me…”

“I’ll be quiet,” I teased. “It’s been forever. I need you.”

“Forever, huh? Yesterday is forever?” His arrogance stroked he cupped my face forcing my eyes up.

Shaking my head yes I palmed him through his pants. “I always want you. I don’t care where we are, who sees, who cares.”

Dropping his hands I felt his fingers nudge my panties to one side before I them slip inside me. With a gasp my back arched, pushing myself further into him. “You want everyone to know you’re mine?”

Shaking my head I buried myself in his chest trying to muffle exactly how good he felt.

“How do you feel so good?” I moaned through the words, dragging every vowel and trying to stay composed.

His mouth covered my neck, leaving kisses, “You’re made for me. This pussy is molded to me.”

Taking pity on me his fingers pinched my clit sending chills down my spine when I clutched onto him for dear life.

“That’s it baby. Come on my fingers, I want to taste you.” He purred the words into me.

Just as I was about to come we heard a deep growl of a voice echo with the venues open ceiling. “Cody, we gotta talk about your entrance.”

Stopping short it looked like he hit a brick wall when he saw us pressed together out of breath and common sense. Keeping his head down he stood there waiting for Cody.

His fingers came up between us as his mouth closed around his two fingers that were just inside me. “You taste like my new favorite addiction.”

“Cody,” he scolded like we were love drunk teenagers.

“Find catering, all the girls hang out there. I’ll be quick.” Pecking my lips he pulled away and I felt the cold absence hit while I came down from the high of him.

Everything about him was predatory: his smile, his baby blue eyes, the way his taunt muscles were always golden, and the way you knew he didn’t view himself as the good guy. Something about him told you to be careful, watch for land mines, and shame on you if you get hurt.

Snatching my mini bag, I strutted back the way I saw them go, asking every person where catering was until it seemed simple enough to find.

Cody was right, everyone gathered here like a water hole and I quickly felt out of place.

A beautiful woman noticed me, quickly linking arms with me and dragging me over to her friends. “I’m Raquel, I’ve been with WWE for years. Are you new?”

She grilled me with all the questions you ask someone you’re just meeting. All the how’s, why’s, and where’s like you have to know every detail about them before you decide if you like them or not.

Her friends were equally as gorgeous, all toned, and in deigned clothes. Introducing myself carefully to each one I made sure I made myself likable for Cody’s sake. I didn’t need to make friends but Cody deserved the simplicity of blending in.

Raquel stopped short before she introduced the last girl, “This is Brandi.”

The entire group seemed to go silent enough to hear a pin drop when I awkwardly smiled through it trying to realize whatever had happened. “I don’t get it, what happened?”

Brand, the ebony beauty, locked eyes with me before speaking. “They’re all awkward because I’m Cody’s ex.”

I stood up straighter, smile bleeding my face. “Oh. Fun.”

Raquel’s hand rubbed my back like it was heartbreak to hear he had a past, an ex. It was news that she worked here but we both have a past we want to keep buried for as long as possible.

“He wasn’t a virgin when I met him… this isn’t ground breaking, guys. Maybe that you work here but not groundbreaking. Have you seen him? He’s gorgeous.” I blushed at my own words trying to figure out why her working here bothered me so much.

He knew and dropped zero clues for me to pick up.

Maybe we needed to dig up our past to have any future.

Requested Tags:

(if you want to be tagged please let me know in the comments)

@alyyaanna

[furiousgoldfish]

We were talking about the struggle of getting survival information and skills, because the abusers gatekeep that information and lie about how tough it is to survive out there, so I'm going to open up my askbox today specifically for those seeking information about survival and life skills! It doesn't matter what age you are, if you have a question and nobody to ask to explain it to you, I'll give my best. There's some things I don't know, and in that case, maybe one of the readers will be able to answer instead of me.

I know these are all researcheable on the internet, but we're often shut down and discouraged from even doing research, and it's easier to ask someone to tell you what they know and think, to get an idea without having to do extensive research. I also welcome anyone who learned a lot from a specific resource, to share the resource! Sometimes just being pointed to the right resource helps a lot.

It's anonymous, so it doesn't matter what age you are, I'm going to assume you're all young and just trying to get some basic info, no question is too dumb or ignorant, and if I don't know the answer, at least you can be sure not to be told off or that 'you should know this'. Nobody has information materialize inside of their brain out of nothing, and everyone has the right to ask. For me it has been healing to be able to ask questions and get answers, and I want everyone to at least have that experience. And you can ask about whatever, if you think you have a medical issue and aren't sure if it's serious, you can ask that. If you're lost about how finances work, I only know about my own country's situation so I can tell you what I'm familiar with. (I'm not in the US so I can't tell you how things work over there).

I'll only do this for today, feel free to send messages in the next 24 hours.

[syoddeye]

feel free to ignore this one-

i have been a big fan of fanfiction for a while and recently got into cod. and ive noticed a lot of poetic writers tend to head down the noncon/ddne territory, and i guess it’s always a conflict for me?

cus it’s beautiful, but always so fucking sickening. nasty stuff for sure. and being one of my favorite authors, i guess im asking if you believe the writing is supposed to justify it? romaticize it- instead of condemning? maybe it slips past me but im always unsure if the writing is supposed to be seen as strictly art that divulges into the depths of a dark mind and a bad man- or it’s indulging in a fantasy.

im breaking from my comfortable shell from the ‘white picket fence happy ending cute tale’ fanfiction and actually really enjoying reading dark fics because good ones do such a wonderful job at toeing the ‘this is so beautiful but I feel like vomiting’ line- but in the back of my mind i wonder if it’s supposed to be read in a positive light- like the assaulter is…good?

im a bit new to it all which is why I guess there’s a shred of shame in it, because I don’t like the actions in ddne. they’re unsettling, gross (unfeminist? unsure) - but the writing is often times why i have to finish them because it’s jus so beautiful, pulls you in. your guts are all shriveled but your mind is wide awake and your mouth is wide open like you’re trying to swallow the poetry whole (not to be dramatic).

have you ever felt this? or am i jus like. vanilla.

hey friend, thanks for your patience on this.

i know you’ve already reached back out and i’m glad the links shared here helped. i’m gonna respond to both asks here because i don’t want to break your anonymity without your consent.

i’m also disabling reblogs. everything below this is my opinion and experiences. other folks will obviously feel differently. (if any of my smart and talented friends want to chime in or correct me, please do.)

first, i respect and appreciate your openness. you are kind and your thoughtfulness shines through both messages. feeling conflicted about complicated and difficult topics is normal. not to get all woo-ey off the bat, but we’re human beings. this is our first time planetside and all that. it’s important to cut yourself some slack. this post is generally how i see it:

“the human brain is weird. sex fantasies ≠ actual desires. if you ask yourself, “would i want to act out this thing in real life” and the answer is “fuck no,” then you’re fine. shipping is also not an indicator of what you would condone in real life. you are not secretly a monster. you are a human being. human beings are complicated.”

you ask: [do] you believe the writing is supposed to justify it? romanticize it- instead of condemning?

no, and this is where i think the posts i shared help. i do not believe dead dove or dark fic justifies sexual assault and rape, in the same way i do not believe games or horror films make people violent.

you also share:

“maybe it slips past me but im always unsure if the writing is supposed to be seen as strictly art that divulges into the depths of a dark mind and a bad man- or it’s indulging in a fantasy.” “in the back of my mind i wonder if it’s supposed to be read in a positive light”

this just tells me you’re engaging with fiction in a normal way. it’s normal to process how a story affects you. when reading fiction that depicts the disgusting, there’s a chance you feel disgusted. you remind me of how i felt when i first started reading dark fic. i had to unpack and grapple with years of being told any sexual fantasy that wasn’t heterosexual + monogamous + only explored after marriage was a one-way ticket to superhell and made me an awful person. surprise, it doesn't!

again, i’ll echo my first reply in case anyone needs to see it again: content warnings and tags aside, if readers hit an unexpected limit/boundary/landmine in a fic that they know will adversely impact or trigger them, they need to exit immediately. disengaging from fanfic is a reader’s responsibility. no one is forcing anyone to read fanfic, and no one should feel like they have to finish fanfic because it’s beautifully written, at the expense of their well-being. 

(to note, because i don’t want folks to think i’m ignoring it, but i’m not going to wade into what’s feminist or not when it comes to fiction. i think that’s a whole other discussion and i’m not in the headspace to engage.)

(another note, semi-related - something that continually frustrates me in the broader discussion of dead dove and dark fanfic is the pressure for victims to share personal information to justify their opinion, no matter where it falls. while i do share some stuff about my personal life, i do have limits. i’ve been asked point blank in my ask box and ao3 comments if i’ve ever been sexually assaulted, because some folks feel entitled to that information to ‘justify’ my writing about it. people can and will make their assumptions, but i will never divulge that info here, on tumblr.com, of all places. that’s a hard line for me.)

to your second message, i am sincerely happy that those links helped. it really boils down to ‘it doesn’t equal your actual desires’. you said it was a huge relief to see that, and it is! again! i felt a galaxy brain moment when i stopped hating myself for liking darkfic. reading/writing dark fic isn't an endorsement.

and and and not to sound like your grandpapa out on the porch, but now that i know your age—you are young. do not beat yourself up for learning or not knowing your limits just yet. i am in my 30s and learning shit about myself all the time. i’ll be 60 and having lightbulb moments reading fanfic.

okay. i think i’ve yapped enough. linking to early’s post again because it’s so, so good.

[kikker-oma]

I love the idea of Fan Joy July as a way to share love for authors and artists in the fandom! However, I’ve seen multiple pieces of fanart that don’t tag the author directly. At first I thought, ok, maybe the author doesn’t have a Tumblr or it’s not linked in their AO3. I then go to the linked fic to see if the artist commented with a link to the art, a request for their Tumblr username, or at least a nice comment since they obviously love the fic so much- and there’s nothing.

As an author myself, that worries me. If I found out that somebody made fanart for my fic without telling me, or commenting at all- I would be upset to say the least. Fan Joy July is a way to encourage interaction with people who may not get any or enough praise for the hard work they do, so it leaves a bad taste in my mouth to see authors still oblivious to the appreciation. I hope that this was just an oversight on the artists’ part, since I’m sure they didn’t intend for the authors to remain ignorant of the artists’ own work. I really hope that participating in Fan Joy July will help people find new ways to show their appreciation!

Hey lovely, this is a really great concern you've brought up!

Thankfully I think the majority of people are trying to reach out to the writer/artist they are gifting which is fantastic. But of course the ideal would be that all the giftees have been tagged or let known there is fanart for them!

I truly don't mean to sound apathetic (I really do care about this) but I just don't have the time to police this - for lack of a better phrase. I barely have time to draw and try and reblog FJJ posts as I go about my day😅To me, as long as they are linking the fic they are creating for, that is most important to me.

However, that being said, if you (or anyone reading this) notice that a writer isn't tagged and you know their Tumblr, feel free to make that judgement call and tag them! Or if you want to do some digging and see if an attempt has been made on their AO3, that's super wonderful too❤️

It could also be intimidating for some to reach out directly to the writer/tag someone, so if that's the case for anyone, I personally would like to encourage boldness! I've yet to see anyone upset at a gift of art or writing❤️

I don't want anyone to experience FOMO! As the month progresses, hopefully we can work out some of these kinks💪🏻

[athenawasamerf]

Is it Islamophobic to question why Muslim women in Western countries advocate so hard to wear burqas and niqabs? Or to generally critique gender and religion and using Islam as an (unfairly) intense example? Especially from non-Muslim women?

Religion is important to people and sure women should wear what they want, but I’m not sure if others deserve such harsh criticism in asking why or saying that it’s not a good thing but a fetishized modest ownership tradition. It’s not fair to the women who want to practice their faith wearing it, but a good part of liberal western society acts like calling out traditional conservative behaviors from a majority probably ‘non-white’ religion is bad.

Obviously women pulling off their veils or hijabs should be their choice, and that simple acts like that shouldn’t be simplified as ‘liberation’ (a very western narrative), but is it also wrong to see it that way? Religious women are deeply entrenched in conservative narrative which I can understand; it just makes me sad.

I wish you well, sorry to bother you and if you prefer not to answer that is valid!

I don’t really believe in the concept of Islamophobia to start with. Being wary or critical of any religion isn’t a bigoted stance, and all religions need to be criticised for human rights and women’s rights issues. That doesn’t mean that Muslims aren’t oppressed in regions where they’re the minority, but I believe that has a lot more to do with racism than religious persecution.

Is Islamophobia a useful term to discuss Arab/brown-specific experiences in the west? Maybe, but I find it a lot more harmful than helpful most of the time. It seems to be mainly used to stifle discussions and criticism, and foster a narrative of persecution to create an ‘us vs them’ mentality which is subsequently used to control Muslims and prevent them from seeking community with the ‘other’, and to scare them into remaining within their existing community and faith. It’s a lot like the Jehovah’s Witnesses tactic of sending their young out with intentionally annoying guides to ‘recruit’ people, knowing they’ll be met with hostility that only reinforces their safety and belief within the religious community.

That said, critical analysis of why women hold on to, and even advocate for, religious or cultural practices that contribute to their subjugation - even when they live in countries where they can theoretically be free of these expectations - is not only not Islamophobic/racist, but necessary. I could go into that topic in depth on a separate post if anyone is interested in hearing my thoughts.

Critiquing religion, as I mentioned, is a cornerstone of feminist analysis and can not be ignored to preserve people’s feelings. However, most people who are the racial or religious majority in their communities will hold conscious and unconscious biases towards racial and religious minorities, and don’t usually bother to learn about the religion or culture they’re critiquing. These critiques tend to be based on stereotypes and fear mongering, and usually stem from a place of xenophobia rather than any true concern for women. The best way to remedy this is to take the time and effort to learn about the religion and culture in detail, and listen to women, feminist or not, from said culture or religion to properly understand their experiences and issues before you start making criticisms. Try to run your thoughts by someone from that culture or religion who shares your political ideology (in this case, Muslim or ex-Muslim radfems, especially from SWANA) to sound out any misguided ideas or unconscious biases. It’s a lot of work, so if you’re not up for it, maybe it’s best to stick to criticism of your own culture and/or religion.

When it coms to hijab/niqab/burqa/other modesty garments, you need to tread carefully with real women (as opposed to impersonal ideological critique). Modesty culture is deeply ingrained and many religious people are brainwashed into fear and abject horror at the mere notion of critical thought about their beliefs. Try not to get into heated arguments with religious women unless you’re trained in de-programming and cult tactics. On the other hand, if you’re talking to a liberal who supports dehumanising and oppressive religious/cultural practices on the basis of cultural relativism, you need to stress the dignity of women above any culture or religion. That said, gently questioning the beliefs behind something is never a bad move if you can keep the discussion civil; best case scenario you plant a seed of doubt that can lead to more critical examination, worst case scenario nothing happens and you move on with your days.

As for calling something as simple as shedding modesty items being called ‘liberation’, while I don’t think it’s offensive or a western concept (in fact, considering liberation a western concept is very… paternalistic? I can’t find the right word but it definitely rubs me the wrong way), it is a reductive way of looking at this. The shedding of modesty garments should be a protected human right regardless of faith or location, such that gaining the ability to do so is a tiny drop in the ocean of rights that need to be gained in order to achieve liberation. If we deem the simple right to dress as we please to be liberation, we lose sight of the much bigger battles ahead, and we give conservatives and religious extremists an opening to claim that liberal and feminist movements only strive to achieve sexual freedom and degeneracy for the benefit of men. We already see this happening in SWANA, where MRAs and religious extremists have taken up slogans like ‘they don’t want your freedom, but the freedom to get to you’ (aka the freedom to have sex with you).

Thank you for the thoughtful ask <3

[weolucbasu]

So, @da-proti-toku-grem kind of inspired me to make a lengthy post, sharing some positive vibes across the fandom, listing the reasons why I love each member of Joker Out and why I would go full mom-mode on them and cook for them and bake them gluten-free cookies.

Anyway:

A Joker Out, brain-rot, appreciation post

(members listed in alphabetical order)

Bojan

First up - as someone who had the chance to see them live, he is an insane performer

His ability to enchant the crowd is insane and you can tell really well that he has great acting abilities too

Watched him in Gospod Profesor too, spot on for someone who is a so-called amateur

His singing voice is... amazing to say the least, it feels really unique

Also, the way he talks, the sound of his voice, the words he uses, his pronunciation, if there were awards for talking he would get one

The languages he speaks, I want to study him, linguistically, he is truly a phenomenon

We of course love a bilingual king

He looks like he has his priorities straight

I also respect him so much for how open he is about his mental illness

I might relate to him a bit too much at times whoops

And the fact that he can somehow befriend literally anyone??? Love that

His friendship with Jere is the main one of course

Oh yeah and the fact that he literally helped people who collapsed at their gigs a few times

Bless him, he deserves all the rest he is hopefully getting

Jan

First things first, I have a soft spot for math guys

And the way he talks about math is fascinating (but you still won't get me to like it Jan)

Cat dad???? We absolutely adore Igor and a man loving cats is such a green flag

I know people say he mumbles a bit and it's hard to understand him at times, but idk, he talks nice and slowly, so it's still really easy to understand him

He comes from my home region, so I am very biased haha

Also, every band needs a guitarist with luscious locks

He absolutely owns the colour red, that colour was invented specifically for him

The nose ring suits him so well too, this man KNOWS what fits him

And if that ends up being jackets with nothing underneath when he performs, THEN SO BE IT

I know people call Kris the lesbian icon, but from what I've seen lesbians are very drawn to Jan as well

Oh, and he gives me Klaus from the Umbrella Academy vibes (I blame the hair and the pink boa)

Jure

Holy shit, sunshine in human form????

The most underappreciated one in the band imo

His surname literally means 'cat' and I am so normal that Jan has called him 'muca'

He also comes from my region haha, bias again

He's really good at filming, he actually shot a few things for RTV (national TV station) and edited them as well, god, talent

Also playing drums... I have sang, I have played guitar, played bass, but drums is something I feel like I could NEVER do, so hats off to you

As @da-proti-toku-grem pointed out, THE MOLE ON HIS LIP? weak knees, yes

He also reminds me of a good friend of mine and I vibe with him so much, I feel like I would vibe with Jure as well

I really don't like the fact that drummers tend to get ignored and I just wish there was more Jure performing content

Though I love it how every time, during Novi Val, he comes to the front and hangs with the others

His hair also looks so soft and fluffy aaaaaa

Again, biased but he resembles my bf the most out of everyone so hmmmm

Kris

The baby of the band! (and the only one in the band I could actually call 'mulc')

In case you didn't know yet, he's half Dutch

And he speaks Dutch, which, as someone who speaks Dutch (in theory, not in practice) makes me really happy

I wish to study him linguistically as well

Also his parents' story feels very close to me, as I'm dating outside of my culture as well

According to him he was menace as a kid and I think we should normalise the fact that you can become a better person as you grow up

But pls don't honk at me on the road Kris, pls, I will cry

The songs he wrote??? NGVOT and Vse kar vem??? Oh boy, I love them, adore them

His holey sweaters are also a vibe

Dutch fans, if you don't shower him and the rest of the band with gifts at their Dutch concerts, I will be mad

Also gotta honorably mention Maks

They gotta be my fav nepo-but-not-really babies out there

Kinda like Maya Hawke?

I am ranting

He also looks like the only member of the band that I would fight, and idk why

Also, I must know if he supports Max Verstappen haha

Minus points for chemistry though, I cannot with that

Nace

Okay everyone

Here we go

We have reached my beloved

I love all of them, but Nace just a bit more

It was love at first sight, I cannot lie

I have a soft spot for bassists and he might actually convince me to try and play bass again

He has been playing it for so long too??? like wow

Oh and of course; THE TATTOOS, BLESSETH BE THE TATTOOS

I will always go feral about his tattoos

At every concert

I know he was the last to join the band but it looks like he fits in so nicely, it's beautiful

Strong mom-codded dad friend vibes

He kinda is the dad of the band haha

And he looks like he gives amazing hugs (lucky all of you who had managed to get one already)

A nice addition to the band

Oh and he's apparently shit at sports which is like... felt

Plus the fact that he wanted to be a vet?

Me too boo, me too, but neither of us is there now

Anway, I'll stop now. In conclusion, this band has my whole heart and they deserve every good thing that happens to them and so much more.

[amberlynnmurdock]

Blind Faith (Ch. 13)

Chapter Thirteen: The Devil Has Many Disguises

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: You take up Zach's offer to have dinner at his apartment.

WARNINGS: attempted assault, getting drugged, losing consciousness, side effects of drugs

A/N: PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION! This was a tough chapter to write because I didn't want to write anything too crazy but also not anything not-crazy... this was always in the plan/outline. PLEASE be aware of what you drink when you go out! It's a crazy world. I know this subject can be sensitive. I KNOW. I took this seriously in school and something I always thought was I wish Daredevil was real so sick people could get the justice they deserve! With that said, I hope you like this update, because I can't wait for the next one!

Tags at the end!

Ao3 Link

2 Corinthians 11:14-15 And no wonder, for Satan himself masquerades as an angel of light.

Office of Nelson & Murdock

Rain pattered softly against the windows of Nelson & Murdock. It was a quiet and calm day, completely opposite of what you felt inside. Inside, your heart was racing at the thought of your plans tonight, your mind felt like you were thinking a million different things at the same time, and in the pit of your stomach was an excitement you hadn’t felt since the beginning of summer. 

A week had gone by since the Bar dinner, and Zach was successful in his attempts to ask you out on a date—was it a date? Tonight, you were to go to his apartment just a little uptown to have dinner and discuss all things LSAT and law school. What really won you over was his genuineness, even over the phone. 

Gone was the slightly cocky, sure-of-himself lawyer you met at the dinner. Instead, Zach actually seemed shy and sweet on the phone. He blamed his attitude on the alcohol, which you’ll admit, you blamed yours on that as well. If you were comfortable enough to come to his apartment, he offered to have dinner there and show you his library of law school books and whatnot. 

“Excited for tonight?” Karen asked as she walked past your desk to drop off a few files for you to input into the system. She smiled and sat on the corner of your desk, pushing a strawberry blonde strand behind her ear. 

“I am,” you admitted, feeling your cheeks turn hot. You spoke in a low voice, so Matt or Foggy couldn’t hear. “I mean, a free fancy dinner and LSAT help? It really can’t get that much better for me right now.”

“I’m sure you’ll have a good time,” Karen said. “Text me, though, if you feel uncomfortable at all or if the date seems to be going wrong, or if he just grosses you out. I’ve had my fair share of dipping on dates early.”

You laughed, “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t go down like that.” 

Karen told you more about the files she dropped on your desk—most of them didn’t have to be put in until Monday, and instead you could use most of the day to read and learn them first. Foggy came out of his office, whooshing past you and Karen, and straight into Matt’s office.

Matt locked himself in his office all week, seemingly avoiding any small talk or conversations. He must’ve been busy with his cases—there were a lot more coming in this week—or so you thought. No, Matt’s mind was occupied with something else, something that’s been slowly eating at him since the Bar dinner last week. 

He sits in his office quietly, one earbud connected to his Orbit reader, the other trying not to eavesdrop on your conversation with Karen, but who was he kidding? He knows Zach has been reaching out to you the entire week, trying to invite you to his apartment for dinner… but something wasn’t right. Matt didn’t know what it was, but something didn’t feel right. 

So what did he do? What he does best—investigate that annoying, hard-to-ignore intuition. Earlier this week, he decided to pay a visit to Landman & Zack on his lunch break without telling anyone. Like clockwork, Zach’s been calling you right at 1:00 p.m. 

Matt was able to listen in from the third floor of Landman & Zack’s building, from the inside of a broom closet, all the way up to the 10th floor where Zach’s office was.

“Hello?” 

“Miss __,”

“Is this Zach?”

“It sure is,” he chuckled lightly over the phone. 

“How can I help you, Zach?” 

“Well, I—I haven’t stopped thinking of our meeting at the dinner last week. I was wondering if I could see you again.”

“You were, were you?”

“Yes,” Zach said, with a hint of impatience only Matt could hear. “I was.”

“Hmm.”

“I was serious about the LSAT help, but I was also thinking we could combine dinner with that, at my apartment uptown?”

“I’m not usually one to go to someone’s house on a first date.”

“None of that,” Zach shook his head. “I just want to help, that’s all. And treat you to dinner, of course.”

It wasn’t the way Matt could hear Zach tapping a pencil on his desk, or the way Matt knew the palms of his hands were sweaty that was off-putting, but it was the way Zach’s heart was beating when he spoke those last few lines to you—about wanting to help.

He was lying. 

And since that moment, Matt’s been contemplating what the right thing to do was. So, by locking himself in his office and avoiding your presence, he thought the answer would come to him—well, it was clear, but it was a matter of whether he should ignore it or not. He listens to you as you gush to Karen about your plans with Zach tonight. He doesn’t realize how tightly he’s clenching his jaw until Foggy walks into his office, seemingly picking up on what your plans are. 

“Hey man,” Foggy greets casually, “can we talk?” Matt leans forward on his desk as Foggy shuts his door. 

“What’s up?” Matt asks. 

“I didn’t want to ask to be weird, so I figured I’d come to you. Did—what happened at the Bar dinner last week? We sort of talked about it, but I don’t think I got the full scope,” Foggy explained, gesturing to you and Karen. 

Matt sighed and ran his hand over his cheek in annoyance. “We ran into an old colleague of ours,” Matt said with a forced smile, “Zachary Zack.”

“I gathered that, but—is—don’t tell me that asshole is coming onto her,” Foggy said. He runs his hand through his long blonde locks. “That guy got everything handed to him at that firm because of his father! And now, he thinks he can just cozy up to one of our employees and bribe her to leave us?”

“He’s not bribing her, Fog—he’s trying to win her over, see her—I don’t know,” Matt said exasperated. “You should’ve heard him at the party. He’s the same pompous asshole as he always was.”

“What, you mean like ask her out on a date?” Foggy asked with concern. “He asked her out, and that’s what she and Karen are talking about?” 

Matt nodded his head slowly. Hearing it said out loud caused Matt to feel an uncomfortable rush in his chest. He hands turned to fists as he took a deep breath. 

“He gave her his number at the party. I’m assuming she must’ve messaged him because he’s been calling her every day. Yesterday, he finally asked her to dinner at his apartment and to help her with the LSAT.” 

“Jesus…” Foggy sighed. “I mean, I don’t want to scare her or tell her what to do, but Zack was bad news back then. I wouldn’t want him to hurt her or take advantage—what’s his intention?”

“I don’t know,” Matt said cooly. “But I do know he lied to her about wanting to help.”

“Lied—how do you know?”

Matt sighed and took off his dark red glasses. 

“The other day, I took my lunch and decided to go to Landman & Zack, right before I knew he would call her. I…listened to their conversation and could hear Zach’s heartbeat. He was lying, Foggy,” Matt whispered. “I don’t like that.” 

“What should we do?” Foggy asked. 

“Not we,” Matt shook his head. “What am I going to do.” 

“God Matt,” Foggy shook his head, “you really think it could be that serious?” 

“I don’t know,” Matt answered. “Just to make sure she’s safe, I’ll follow her. That’s all. If he seems fine, then I’ll leave. Maybe his heartbeat was a product of nerves asking her.”

“Maybe,” Foggy said. “Well, be careful. And make sure she’s safe.”

Matt nodded as Foggy left the room. He sat there for a moment, thoughts swimming in his head—he thought of the last night you banished him from his life, as the man in the mask, as Daredevil, as your savior. He thought of the very first night he ever met you, the first night you shared on your rooftop. This wasn’t about his feelings for you anymore, or his heartache, or yours—it was about making sure you were safe. 

⠋⠁⠊⠞⠓

Entering the last case in the system, you nervously watched as the clock finally struck 5:00 p.m. Karen was gathering her bags and jacket and Foggy was almost halfway out the door. He stopped in Matt’s office for something and then wished you a good weekend, and to be safe. 

“You too, Fog,” you smiled. He looked at you with a soft expression before heading out. Karen walked by your desk to wish the same thing. 

“Let me know how it goes,” she said quietly. “Great job today, by the way.”

“Thank you,” you blushed. “Have a good weekend!” 

She said goodbye to Matt and shut the door quietly. You finished typing your last sentence before you began to pack your own things up. 

Zach said to come by his apartment anytime after work, so you weren’t going to put pressure on yourself to get ready in a rush. Though, you did want to get there at around eight o’clock. 

As you were about to head out, you noticed Matt was still sitting at his desk, hunched over a pile of papers, running his fingers over the braille. He was so concentrated, you weren’t sure if you should slip out or wish him a good weekend. He may have felt your presence, you weren’t sure, but he looked up behind his dark red glasses as you stood in the doorway. 

“Heading out?” Matt asked. 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Just wanted to say goodbye and have a good weekend. Got any plans?” 

Matt chuckled a little as if to say, me, plans? 

“Not really,” Matt answered. “Think I’ll take this weekend to relax, maybe catch up on work.”

“You’re always working,” you smiled and spoke softly. “Why don’t you take a break and actually relax?” 

“I take a break, the cases pile up even more,” Matt said. “Do you have any plans?” 

“Not much going on. I am—I’m going to have dinner with that old colleague of yours, Zach?” You told Matt. “Took him up on his offer to help me with studying. He’s making dinner, too.”

“Hm,” Matt replied, “that’s good. A date?”

“I’m not sure,” you laughed nervously. Telling Matt these things treaded weird territory, but you felt comfortable enough to talk to him like this. You remembered that night outside of Josie’s when you confided in him about your savior. “What was he like? When you worked with him, I mean. How was he?”

Matt shifted in his seat. You wanted to say never mind, but then he started to speak. 

“He was… loud.”

“Don’t hold back now,” you smirked. 

“He was a little pretentious. I don’t know if you know, but his father is the elder Zack. I never worked that closely with him, but everyone knew who he was.”

“Hm,” you answered thoughtfully, “why did you and Foggy leave?”

“We didn’t agree with how they ran their firm,” Matt said. 

“Interesting,” you replied. “Well, I guess I’ll let you know if he’s still pretentious.”

“I’m sure not much has changed,” Matt laughed, “But I hope it goes well. I really, really do.”

With that, you smiled once more at Matt, before leaving him alone in his office. 

⠋⠁⠊⠞⠓ Uptown 8 PM 

Zach’s apartment was a little bit uptown, but not much. Just like you were stunned at the venue of the Bar dinner, your reaction to his apartment was no different. On the 12th floor, his apartment had a beautiful view of Manhattan, especially at night—the building lights twinkled as you looked out his giant living room windows. He had an open floor plan, so when you first walked in you basically saw almost all of his apartment. To the right was a kitchen with a white marble countertop, and to the left was a small dining room with the same countertop. In front was the large living room, and beautiful large windows. 

He was in his kitchen, keeping an eye on the linguine he was boiling. That and the shrimp in the pan smelled delicious. 

“Like the view?” He called from the kitchen. Separating you was his large living space, with a tan suede moon crescent-shaped couch. The ceiling had a diamond chandelier and a glass coffee table. You were happy you opted to wear a white silk shirt and matching skirt. For some reason, you had a feeling his apartment would be minimalistic and classy. 

“I do,” you answered, “but nothing I haven’t seen before.” 

He laughed as he stirred the pasta. “Guess the view of the city all depends on where you stand. Wait til I show you my library.” You looked at him—he wore a white button-down shirt and khakis. His blonde hair looked more warm in the lighting. 

“The library,” you repeated. “Where all your law books are?”

“And even more,” he smiled brightly—his chiseled smile caused goosebumps to form on your arms. “Do you want some chardonnay?” 

“Please,” you accepted his offer. He turned the stove on medium heat before grabbing a brand new bottle from his separate wine cellar. Bringing out two large wine glasses, you watched as he poured you the cold, golden liquid. 

“Say when,” he said, catching your eyes. Your heart leaped. 

“When,” you smiled. 

Zach raised his glass—you mirrored him as the wine glasses clinked. He held your gaze for a moment before you both took a sip of wine. It tasted sweet. You blushed and looked away. 

Suddenly, the pot on the stove overflowed. Zach immediately turned the stove down and took the lid off the pot, scratching the back of his head. 

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, “I’m not much of a chef. Why don’t I show you the library now?” 

You laughed, sort of caught off guard by how he seemed unsure of himself. Taking another sip of wine, you nodded your head. 

He walked you down a narrow hallway in his apartment. At the end of the hall was a glass door, away from the view of the city. When Zach pressed a light switch on the wall, the room lit up a soft glow and your reaction was similar to the first time you saw the giant blue whale hanging in the middle of the Museum of Natural History. You were in awe.

“The rest of the collection is at my dad’s,” Zach laughed as he watched you gape in the room. Against each wall were bookshelves lined with the most beautiful leather-bound books. Between blank spaces were the scales of justice, or a mini statue of lady justice. At the front of the room was a long mahogany desk with two lamps on either side and a quill and ink bottle for style. You gravitated towards it, running your fingers over the smooth wood. 

“Where are the LSAT books? Could we take a look?”

“When dinner’s over and we have some more drinks in us,” Zach smiled. Part of your heart fell from disappointment, but it made sense to not rush into what you came here for. Plus, you were really hungry. And this wine was delicious. 

By the time you made it back to the kitchen, you finished your wine. You took a seat in a golden chair at the marble table and looked at this side of the room. There was a long mirror against the wall and some house plants in each corner. Zach wasn’t much for decorating, you could tell. 

With his back to you in the kitchen, Zach poured you another glass of chardonnay. He brought you your glass before he went back and prepared two plates of shrimp linguine. You drank from the wine glass and started to feel that familiar buzz wine gave you. 

“Dinner’s served,” Zach smiled as he sat in the seat next to you. It smelled delicious—you wasted no time twisting your fork in the pasta and taking your first bite with a small piece of shrimp. 

“This is amazing,” you breathed, “wow.” 

“Thank you,” Zach nodded, “it's a recipe from my grandmother. It goes perfectly with the chardonnay.”

“It really does,” you said, taking another sip of the wine. “I’m actually not much of a wine drinker, but I do enjoy it occasionally with dinner.”

“I love it,” Zach smiled. 

“So, I have a question,” you began. “What was it like working with my bosses?”

“Nelson and Murdock?” Zach questioned, “I didn’t work with them that closely. They weren’t even there that long. To be honest, they seemed a little too soft for this field.”

“Woah,” you said in defense, “these are my bosses you’re talking about—be careful, Zack,” you squinted your eyes playfully. Zach shrugged his shoulders, seemingly serious about what he was saying. 

“Being a lawyer isn’t all about justice. I learned that the hard way,” Zach said, “it’s more than just lady justice and good vs. evil. It’s a business. You’ll learn that in law school.”

You didn’t agree with what he said. The whole point of the justice system was to serve justice—it’s not all business and it’s not all money. 

“Maybe it’s business for Landman & Zack, but not for Nelson & Murdock,” you gently argued. 

“That’s why our building is on Fifth Ave and yours is off a corner in the Kitchen,” he said rather smugly. Not wanting to push the matter further—clearly, there was some weird tension between Zach and your bosses--you smiled and took another bite of linguine. 

After your next sip of wine, you placed the glass next to your plate, and there was something unsettling about the way the liquid splashed on the glass. You watched curiously as if in slow motion, as the cold wine splashed outside the wine glass and on the back of your hand. You felt an inclination to react, but you sat there, staring in confusion. 

“You okay?” You heard Zach’s voice, which strangely sounded muffled. Were you drunk already, after only one and a half glasses in? You knew wine could have this effect on you—your wine drunk was different from your tequila drunk—but why were you such a lightweight tonight? 

“Yeah,” you said or tried to say—your voice felt like it was a thousand miles away from you, and you were still staring at the glass and your hand covered in the sweet, sticky liquid. Did you even hear your voice? Were you going deaf? Where did this loud ringing sound come from? 

You watched as Zach dabbed your hand with a napkin. You flinched at his touch and tried to bring your hand close to you, but it felt like it weighed a ton. You couldn’t move it. It was like when your arm fell asleep from sleeping on it wrong—not even a pinch you could feel. Your eyes fell to your shrimp linguine, which suddenly was nauseating to look at, even smell. The linguine noodles looked like a bowl of just yellow, with a few orange dots that tried to be shrimp. You shut your eyes, blinked really hard, and opened them to feel even more dizzy. 

“Something’s not right,” you said weakly, so softly you weren’t even sure Zach heard you. Your tongue felt thick. Your heart started to pound, no, hammer in your chest—not a rapid beat from adrenaline, but an agonizingly slow and steady beat—you could hear it in your ears, your pulse, like a hammer was hitting your chest from the inside, telling you that something wasn’t right. An impending feeling of fear washed over you like an ice-cold wave, but at the same time, everything started to feel too hot. 

“Let’s lay you down,” Zach’s muffled voice said. You tried to get up from the seat but even that was too difficult. You could barely hold onto the armchairs. Zach expertly got up and pulled your seat out, lifting you from behind. You stood on your feet but nearly fell over the table. Your glass of wine spilled across the table, the glass shattering into pieces. “Let’s lay you down,” he says again.

“I don’t feel good,” you slurred. It was the strangest thing you’ve ever felt, a mix of terror and confusion. You were still wondering how you ended up so drunk, and why you suddenly felt a strong urge to go home. You could barely walk, let alone stand. Zach was practically dragging you to the long, suede couch. And you’re not sure if you tripped, but you flung onto the couch and landed on your side, feeling your whole body weigh you down like you were made of sand bags. Your heart was still hammering slowly in your chest, and you felt like you were sinking. Sinking into doom, into fear, into an abyss you couldn’t crawl out of. Sinking in a dream you couldn’t wake up from. 

The only way you could describe it was like being in the middle of a terrible, terrible nightmare—the worst you could think of—and just as things were about to get terrifying, just as whatever dream-maker had control over your dreams was going to commence the final act of doom, you think you will wake up to sweet relief and reality—except, the nightmare keeps going, and this is your reality. Tunnel vision now. You can barely see. 

“You said you wanted to lay down,” Zach appeared over your head now, his once-blue eyes now beady as he looked down at you. His fingers felt meaty as they forced you to look up at him. You furrowed your brows—I wanted to lay down? I asked?—you tried to wipe your hair out of your face but an unpleasant grip took your wrist and threw it above your head. You felt heavy, numb, powerless. 

“Shh,” Zach cooed in a sing-song voice, “it’s okay, you wanted this. Remember?” He’s leaning over you now, and you’re watching as he begins to unbutton your white shirt. 

You don’t remember. You don’t remember how you ended up on the couch, and his voice made you turn your face and push into the soft velvet cushion, away from him, an attempt to escape. An attempt to have any kind of control. To hide. 

And then suddenly, his body weight on top of you was gone, like an intense pressure on your chest immediately disappearing. 

You looked at the soft, suede, tan-colored couch. The sort of color that reminds you of old peeling wallpaper in a doctor’s office; uninviting, ugly, yellow and dry. Before, the color of this couch was ordinary—but with your cheek pressed against it and you lying on your side, you see the color for what it is. Boring, ugly, and something you absolutely hate to look at. And you want to hold onto anything familiar in your mind—a familiar feeling, a familiar image, but you can’t. You’re breathing heavily, and your eyes feel like they weigh a ton. You struggle to keep them open but now the room looks like it's spinning from the way you lie—like a washing machine. You see a figure in black moving around before black is simply all you see. 

Hell’s Kitchen 12 AM 

The first thing you wake up to is your uncontrollable shaking. It reminds you of a time when you were in middle school and you came down with the flu. You remembered being wrapped in a hoodie and sweatpants and socks, under thick blankets, and shivering like you were out in the cold. Your mom brought you chicken soup and your dad put on your favorite cartoon. There was a huge difference between then and now. You were shivering, but there wasn’t that familiar feeling of home. Only panic.

Your eyes shoot open and it takes you a moment to realize you’re not in a room you recognize—your eyes first land on dojo-type sliding doors, a soft glow coming behind them. You look around a little more, and there’s not much in the room except for a wooden armoire tucked in the corner and tiny windows in the front. Bright, neon lights shine through them before they disappear again. You shut your eyes once more. It’s then you realize you have an IV in your arm. A strange, tight pinch in the middle of your arm, on your most delicate skin. 

You shoot up in bed, shaking, and your head pounding. The bed you were in must be king-size, covered in dark silk sheets. Black or dark blue, you couldn’t tell. You’ve never slept in silk sheets before. At the edge of the bed are more folded blankets, and you immediately grab them, desperate for some more warmth. Throwing them over yourself, you immediately lay back down, cautious of the IV in your arm. Your teeth started to clatter. 

You’ve been wanting to avoid the only answer that brought you here. You didn’t even want to say his name, think of him, or that God-awful voice he used… 

Tears welled in your eyes—you can’t remember much other than that. You don’t remember how it happened, all you know now was you were in bed, with an IV in your arm. Tears streamed down your face, and the familiar hammering heartbeat started in your chest again. It wasn’t from terror, but sadness. You felt so incredibly sad, and you didn’t know why. Your whole body felt weak and cold. Your chest felt heavy. 

You jumped when you saw the dojo doors slide open slightly. Wiping your tears and holding your breath, you looked around nervously for a weapon to use against whoever stood behind the doors. 

You felt immense relief and confusion when you saw your savior step into the room—his room, you concluded. It had been months since you’d seen him, the lightness that filled your chest was telling you—that you missed him, so much. But what strange circumstances were you in now? 

“M-Mike?” God, even your voice was quivering and hard to mask. “What—you brought me here?” 

He was silent in his movements, his face half covered and in his usual black outfit. You were relieved it was him but confused all the same. Did he know where you were? How? Did he save you? 

Of course, he did. 

“Yes,” he said, slowly walking over to you. You flinched, for some reason, like second nature as he got closer. He stopped in his movements and held up his hands. “It’s me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know,” you said in a shaky voice, pulling your knees to your chest. “I don’t know why I flinched.“

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “Can I sit next to you?”

“Yeah,” you answered weakly, more like a desperate plea. “Yes.” 

“Okay,” he nodded, and you scooted over a little to give him room. The bed dipped when he sat down. You stayed in your fetal position, shaking. You wanted to reach up and touch him, but you were all too weak. “How do you feel?” He asked, even though he knew the answer was obvious. 

“I can’t stop shaking like I have a fever,” you said. “My head is pounding. My throat is dry.”

“You do have a fever, but the IV is helping bring it down,” your savior explained softly. 

“Did you hook me up to it?”

He shook his head. “No. A friend did.” 

“Mike,” you whispered, “what happened to me?” Your voice cracked at your question, and your savior’s throat bobbed, like this was hard for him, too.

“Nothing happened to you,” he said softly. “I didn’t let him.” 

“Did he… I felt like everything was fine and then suddenly I couldn’t walk. Did he slip my drink something?” 

Your savior didn’t speak, he only nodded. “You’re experiencing the side effects now. It’ll be in your system for 12 hours, but the IV is flushing it out.”

“Oh my, God,” you cried, “oh my, God,” you cried into his silk pillow, feeling something tighten in your chest. You felt his warm hand on your shoulder, caressing your skin. You sobbed, hiccuping cries, and your savior stayed there, holding your arm. 

“__,” he said your name after your cries softened. “You’re with me.” 

You opened your eyes and wiped your tears, looking at your savior. Slowly drawing his hand away from you, he reached behind the back of his head and pulled his black mask loose. With his head down, he slowly drew it back and off his face, and you swore you couldn’t tell if you believed who you saw or if the drug's side effects were still in your system because you were looking at Matt Murdock right in his hazel-brown eyes.

_____

TAGS:

@starry-night-20 @sumsytee @queerqueenlynn @mattmurdocksstarlight @marvelcinematiquniverse @hailey-murdock (please let me know if I missed you!)

[faislittlewhiteraven]

Undertale/ISAT crossover thoughts

Don't really want to write one myself (already got enough fics I'm failing to write XD) but ever since I finished In Stars and Time I've been thinking how I'd write a crossover between these two amazing games and I figured I'd share my notes in case anyone needs a bit of help/motivation in writing their own~ =D

Warning: These will mostly be in 'order of thought' as it's all barebones stuff. Also contains FULL spoilers for both Undertale and In Stars and Time so er, if you're still looking to play those/still getting through them don't read this and please play this incredible games.

Mt Ebott is located on The Island and the shattering of the Barrier brings the ability to see color back to all those on the (ISAT) surface.

Humans losing the ability to see color in ISAT was due to them/the 'wish wizards' of The Island sacrificing it (along side their seven strongest 'colour casters') in a Wish Craft ritual, naturally leading to humanity losing most of their 'colour magic' knowledge.

Undertale's 'sepia flashbacks' were all Chara's memories of how the world looked to them, BUT once in the Underground they were able to see (and remember things on the Surface) in color (hence the whole 'golden flowers' bit; it was still mostly just a cover story but Chara genuinely wished that they could see their favorite flower field as the 'gold' they realized it was rather than the 'mid tones' they saw it as on the Surface).

...The 'erasure' of the Island I'm thinking might've been accidentally poor Chara and Asriel's fault: with Chara's 'ritual' killing of themselves via buttercup taking three days to happen, Chara being from the Island insisting Asriel always give them flowers in groups of three, seven and thirteen, and an entire Underground filled with tons and tons of 'trapped' wishes from monster kind for their freedom combining with Chara's self loathing/desire to hurt those who hurt them trapping them in a loop that Just. Wouldn't. End. until Chara eventually snapped and pulled a 'May these people, this Island, EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE WHO'D EVER HURT THE MONSTERS I LOVE including me BE ERASED UNTIL THE MONSTERS ARE FREE!' and um. Welp. There went an entire nation... (also Flowey eventually remembered some of this but only after going back to being Flowey post Asriel and probably it took a while for him to sort through all that).

Which er, means in this fic, that the people of The Island and the Island itself are still 100% there but they've all spent roughly 8 years or so all blitzed out of their minds: Need to think of Chara's exact wish wording so its not just 'corpses everywhere' but very good odds the people on the Island were either running on full automatic for years or able to remember some stuff but only if they very very carefully did not think of themselves as their own countrymen/used the languages of elsewhere/were careful not to think of where they were as any actual location within their country...

...Which naturally would effect the kids by far the most as their very language is basically a brown note (bilingual types could at least swap over to a different language but likely most of The Island was rendered silent) and well, pretty hard to remember Mt Ebbot is the mountain that must not be climbed when you can't think of the locations around you by name and the adults may or may not remember the kids exist half the time so... Yeah. Cue a lot of kids climbing up the mountain due to both lack of warnings and increased chances of feeling ignored/isolated/hurt.

Aka why in Undertale we can never hear/read anything Frisk says, why the monsters outside of Flowey/Asriel never refer to Chara by name and why no one remembers Frisk's name until after the Barrier shatters: Chara's 'Wish' couldn't be broken until then.

Not sure where all the anime and high tech that's washing into the Underground is coming from but either The Island used to be a massive tech hub prior to memory erasure, a LOT of tech was lost along with the loss of color or The Island's memory erasure in the ISAT world color magitech? maybe the wizards tried to seal away more than just monsters?, or IDK maybe the Underground barrier techincally had them displaced outside of Space and Time a bit and the garbage that was washing in was from literally everywhere thanks to the Universe wanting to help them or something (side note: realizing the memory erasure from Chara may have accidentally snipped Universe worship from the monsters as well since they clearly venerate the stars also but well. That longing for the stars DID cause them pain so..).

Imagining that Siffrin and party are in Bambouche meeting Bonnie's sister (or idk, having a vacation or reunion there if you wanna give Siff a bit more recovery/'explaining his issues to his family' time) when the Barrier is broken and all the colors come rushing back. Best first sunset ever (right before the entire Surface world kinda flips out over color, and to a lesser extent those familiar with The Island start remembering more and more details as the 'curse' weakens a little with every monster leaving Mt Ebbot) followed up by Siffren and the others absolutely losing their minds over how beautiful the stars are with just a tiny bit of color to them (the stars no longer being passively pushed out of people's awareness helps).

Anyway next day the party realize they have to investigate: Partly because Siff is well, kind of losing their mind over being able to see and remember home a little, but also because W.T.F and the Island is clearly the epicenter of everything going on. ...Also Siff may remember childhood stories about colors being locked away to serve as warning for if the Monsters returned so um. That's could be a thing.

Meanwhile the Monsters are getting a MUCH warmer reception from the local humans than they ever could've imagined (accidentally saving a nation from enforced amnesia kinda does that) and are also very confused as to why no one knows who they should get in contact with for formal alliance stuff (not sure if The Island has much of a government left at this point honestly...)

Would Flowey and the ghosty Chara acompanying Frisk count as Sadnesses???

... And er, that's all I got plot/setup wise. Most of my brain energy had been spent on imagining what soul colors all the ISAT cast have and also 'What Pokemon would they all be if they ended up in a Pokemon Mystery Dungeon game?' so have a list with my reasoning on that front! =D

Siffrin: Blue/Integrity - Might seem like an odd choice given his constant lying/acting but like. Given all of the memory erasure and the torture of the loops Siffrin's absolute refusal to compromise his family's happiness/safety or use the loops for literally anything not 'helping family/ending the loops' based (even when he's basically losing his mind and could really use just... Taking a loop or three to goof off or something) just screams how devoted he is to what he believes in and well, the amount he lies syncs up well with how insane he's going so yeah. Siffren is an Integrity soul who's having a really really hard time being true to himself due to all the wobbie breaking he's gone through all his life. Specifically I like to picture his soul as a very dark, deep black/blue with little pinpricks of other colored light (mostly green, red and yellow), like a tiny heart shaped starry night's sky <3 (And er, bet that soul went very 'red/bleeding sky' as he was losing it in Act 5; Determination isn't his color by nature but they were not well at that point at all).

Isabeau: Cyan/Patience - Isa is super kind and all sorts of things but what really sets him apart is just how patient he is about everything (in ways both good and bad). I like to imagine his soul looking like a blue daytime sky, maybe with the odd white cloud and yellow 'sun' dot: partly because it fits him but also partly to cutely contrast Siffrin's. *cue me humming Like Morning Follows Night from the RWBY OST because I mean. It kinda fits honestly

Mirabelle: Orange/Bravery and/or Yellow/Justice - Again another 'you might not think so' but like. Mirabelle is hella gutsy despite her anxiety and I admire her so so much (also JUSTICE BARRIER REFLECT AGAINST THE KING YAAAAGH! XD) Not super attached to it as Isa and Siff's but the orange/yellow glow of a sunset (maybe with some pink/purple along the edges to show her Perseverance <3).

Odiel: Green/Kindness - She's hella awkward about how much she cares and not the greatest at reading situations/reacting gently but like. Her sheer affection towards the others, her always watching and coming out with the bandages and how she point blank tells Siff 'nope, not angry at you nearly blowing up the world. Also you trying to do that because you love us is cute' means I can't really see her any other way~ Not sure if her soul would be dark green (for more Integrity) or more light green (for more Justice) but all in all, very very green, like light/dark speckled leaves <3

Bonnie: Purple/Perseverance - This kid endures so much so well I swear (they're also really brave so a little orange would work well too but despite everything I don't think bravery is their main characteristic). I like to think of their soul as very 'purple evening clouds with bits of brave orange gold/setting sun on the edges'.

And Loop has a White boss monster soul for reasons; thinking that in this crossover that Monsters believe that they were born from the Universe's compassion (with The Islander's myths claiming they're the result of failed/'cursed' wishes like the 'brother who can understand my suffering Wish Craft' fairytale Siff finds in the Orary room) and both Monsters and the Islanders believing Sadnesses are born from forcing a wish of cruelty/sorrow that goes against the will of the Universe (cue Chara and Flowey who probably were Sadnesses in this until the breaking of the Barrier grumbling that yeah that sounds about right and The King from ISAT proving to even more aaagh than he already was).

And yeah. I'm out of babble thoughts now so hope that this was interesting for you all and please feel free to yoink any ideas that snag your interest <3

[anamoon63]

Hi guys, I am writing this in case anyone wonders why I have been kind of MIA lately. No, I haven't forgotten you, but I have had a difficult week, more than a difficult week, I have been through a real ordeal. Where or how it started it's a long story which I don't have the time or the energy to tell, so I'll just share a brief chronology of what happened during this past week.

Friday May 3 - I turned in my finished work and set out to do my sims posts, play and rest for the weekend since more work would be coming my way on Monday.

Saturday May 4 - My husband came down with the flu, I spent most of the day with him in the emergency room.

Sunday May 5 - I spent it taking care of my husband, who fortunately no longer had a fever. I barely slept two hours at night giving care and medication.

Monday 6 May - My birthday, we couldn't go out for dinner as usual, so we celebrated at home.

Tuesday, May 7 - My son comes down with the flu, too, another afternoon in the ER and sleepless night caring for him and bringing down his fever.

Wednesday, May 8 - My son starts to feel better, and begins to recover very quickly. I start working on the following translations, at the same time I take care of both my husband and my sick son, do food, laundry, order home medicines, and all kinds of small chores, including disinfecting things. It's like going back to 2020.

Thursday, May 9 - My husband no longer has a fever but does have a cough that won't go away and minor problems with his asthma.

Friday, May 10 - Mother's Day, my son was feeling fine, my husband still had a cough, and had a doctor's appointment at noon, when he returned, we celebrated at home just like on my birthday, I spent the rest of the day working, and juggling a thousand other things. In the evening my daughter started to feel sick, but still no fever.

Saturday, May 11 (yesterday) - My daughter woke up with a fever, another visit to the ER. She was prescribed flu medicine, painkillers and rest, and sent home.

And that's my odyssey so far. On top of it all, from Wednesday through Saturday we were in the middle of a heat wave with temperatures of 37ºC with real feel of up to 45ºC; at night we get a "cooler" temperature of 29ºC. So imagine a person with a fever of 38 ºC and with this heat, obviously it's not of much help.

Surprisingly, I haven't gotten sick so far, but I'm not claiming victory. I have been taking care of my family for a week, sleeping two or three hours a night, getting up at different times to check on them, or give them medicine. I don't have time for getting sick! Lol. Thankfully, everyone is better and last night for the first time in a week I was able to sleep straight through. Honestly, I don't need many hours of sleep, but I am routinely and usually I am in bed a 11 pm and up at 8 am every day, so all this did upset my sleep cycle a little bit.

Anyway, that is the reason why I wasn't here much, since the whole day I was too busy, and at night I was so tired all I wanted was to go to bed. I apologize if I've fallen behind on your updates, I'm not ignoring you in any way, I just didn't have the strength or the time, not even to play The Sims. If I did, it was just a little free play to distract myself.

Last week I told you that I was juggling a lot of things, well now I have even more things, lol, at times I feel really exhausted, and even a little cranky from lack of sleep, the first few days my feet and legs hurt so much from going back and forth, but I'm fine, healthy, and in good spirits. Today I believe, as never before, that the universe does not send you more than you can handle.

At this point my family is already in recovery, if I don't get sick too, it's likely by I'll be able to get back to my simming routine. Now, if I do get sick, I hope to recover as quickly as the others. Whatever happens, I'll be around. Know that, even if I don't comment, I read you, and I am with you, especially with those who are going through difficult times of any kind.

Ok, I said to myself this was going to be a short post, but I made a wall of text instead (for a change). My apologies if it's written in a sloppy or confusing way, I just wanted to write it quickly to let you know where I have been and what has been going on with me these days. I hope you are all well, please take care of yourselves, health is a treasure that can be lost at any moment, the flu is a nasty disease, we must never let our guard down and forget to take the necessary measures to prevent it.

Last, but not least, I want to thank all of you who have mentioned me, tagged me, sent me asks and/or stars to my inbox, commented and/or liked what few posts I could do these days, I appreciate it very much and I'll try to reply to you as soon as I can, though I've fallen so far behind that I don't know if I'll be able to find your mentions in my notifications. In any case, thank you very, very much to all of you for thinking about me in my absence. 💗 I'll see you soon, hopefully, with more sim adventures, stay tuned!